#if he let harry hit that despite everything then there's no way he's above a little sniff test for some clothes that have been on the floor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heyyyharry · 2 years

Text

Harry is a demon, and Y/N is just really nice

Word count: 2.8k

Warning: smut

I suck at writing one shots and always add too much world-building, and now there's a whole book series plot in my head. But oh well. Let me know if you want more of them. Part 2 will only be available on Patreon.

Harry never considered himself a gentleman. He couldn't recall the last time he'd done something remotely gentlemanly. He never got up on the train or a bus when there was no seat left and an old lady with a cane got on. He almost pushed a guy into the train track the last time he'd ridden the tube; in his defence, the bloke was a tourist, so who hadn't thought about pushing a tourist into the train track before? So it took everything in him now not to strangle this mortal girl after she'd woken him up at 1 AM and dragged him here.

"It won't take long," Y/N said, taking him by the hand and pulling him down the aisle.

They were the only ones in the library. Every person and object in this house was asleep. After midnight, the house was as quiet as a graveyard. The only sound you could hear on a peaceful evening such as this one was the rustling of leaves outside the windows.

Harry's heart thumped with every one of their footsteps across the wooden floor. The library was so big that even a whisper echoed. He never understood how his great great great uncle had chosen to build such a huge library and filled it with so many books that stacked up all the way from the floor to the ceiling. Four walls were covered by books. All dusted up and abandoned for decades.

Y/N was the only one who came in here often, and she cleaned up sometimes, but she couldn't possibly clean every corner of this old place.

"You better give me a good reason not to kill you," Harry said with a growl when she released his hand and they had reached the wall at the end of the aisle.

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming. And now he was curious about her new discovery that made her unbothered by his threat of killing her.

"I found this book." Her grin reached her eyes as she pulled a hardback out of a shelf. It was pretty old, the leather cover dirty and torn at the corners. Y/N opened it and Harry started coughing and waving his hand in front of his face, dust floating in the moonlight streaming through the oval windows above the bookcase.

Y/N dragged her fingers down the page and stopped at one paragraph. "Okay, here it says that a demon is free of his chains when..."

"When he's collected 666 pure souls," Harry rolled his eyes, "are you mansplaining me right now? This was in Demon 101."

Y/N blinked in surprise. "You had a class called Demon 101?"

"No. That was sarcasm."

Y/N didn't seem amused. "Also, it's not mansplaining because I'm a woman."

"You're human. So it's mansplaining." Then, he jabbed a finger at her face and she flinched, her back hitting the shelf behind her with a thud. "I can gladly waste a pure soul and kill you now so I can go back to sleep."

"No, listen!" She circled around him and stood in front of him. Despite his annoyance, she went on reading the content on the page. "A demon is free of his chains when he gives up his immortality."

Harry arched an eyebrow as Y/N's smile grew. "So there is a way to save you."

"Errr, that is even worse than having Lucifer burn me to ashes."

"How? Being human is great."

He eyed her up and down. "Says you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you suck, and this is stupid."

Y/N seemed offended. Good. She should be.

"Just think about it, you sold your soul when you were twenty, and according to this book, you could go back to being twenty again. You'd rather suffer for eternity than be human?" she asked.

"Wrong." He held up a finger to her nose. "I'd rather finish my job, then get released from my contract, and live a life as an immortal. I don't want to die of old age. And this book–" he grabbed the book from her hand and clapped it shut, making her jump, " –is not correct. Well, at least not entirely. Maybe this is an old version that existed centuries ago when humans had a much shorter lifespan. With the new laws of the Underworld, if I ever agreed to give up my immortality, I would become human again, but then Time would catch up with me and I'd die instantly."

"Oh."

Harry rolled his eyes at the disappointment on Y/N's face. "Sweet that you're trying to help, but don't think you can outsmart me."

She stayed silent and watched him put the book back on the shelf. He turned back to her, about to tell her off, but now that his anger had cleared and the sleepiness had faded, he finally noticed her standing there in her nightdress. She caught his intense stare and pulled her cardigan close to cover her revealing chest.

A smirk tugged at his mouth. He advanced, and she quickly withdrew. One step, two steps, three steps. Her back hit the shelf and she froze. He leaned in until he could feel her breath shudder in his presence.

"But why are you so passionate about helping me, little human? Tell me," he sighed and her chest heaved as well, "what would you gain from that, hmm?"

“N-Nothing.” She blinked fast, unable to look him in the eyes. “I-I was just trying to help.”

“Aww, what a pure soul you are.” He rested a hand on the shelf behind her head and watched her flinch. A grin tugged at his lips. “Look, I appreciate that. But I am a demon, and I’m going to take your soul. At least pay me some respect and pretend to be terrified of me.”

“But I am not,” she said, sounding a bit bolder as her gaze met his. “I’m not afraid of you, Harry. I actually feel sorry for you.”

“Is that so?”

“All this and for what? You’ll forever live a lonely life.”

“Keep going. You need to try harder to hurt my feelings.”

“Well, then.” To his surprise, she straightened her back and crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re not getting my soul.”

“Excuse–”

“I said what I said. I’m not signing the contract.”

“You said I had a year to change your mind.”

“Well, my mind is made.”

She duck under his arm to escape, but he was quick to take hold of her wrist and pin it above her head. His other hand shot out to catch her other wrist before she could hit him or push him or whatever intention she was having in that little head of hers.

“Listen, little human,” he said, his face so close to hers he could see himself in her eyes, “you’re playing a dangerous game here. We agreed that you gave me a year to convince you to sign off your soul. I’ll take your soul when you die. I don’t know how you die or when you die, but you won’t know when I take the soul. Clearly, there’s no disadvantage for you, so why make it harder?”

“The disadvantage is that I’ll be giving up my soul for Hell.”

“Well, reincarnation is overrated. What if you’ll become a pig in your next life?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and Harry had to shove the image from his dreams last night to the back of his mind.

“Can I please go?”

“Not before you promise me you’ll stick to our deal.”

Y/N let out a sigh. Was it bad that he liked how stubborn she was being?

“What if I kissed you right now?”

Harry froze. He was a demon, and nothing should catch him off-guard, but that question completely threw him off. He opened his mouth, and for the first time, didn’t know what to say.

A smile appeared on her pretty face. “If I kissed you then my soul wouldn’t be pure anymore.”

“That’s not how it works. A kiss won’t make you bad, Y/N.”

She thought for a moment. Harry didn’t take his eyes off her. He felt his chest constricted and found it hard to breathe. Why was his heart racing? Was he blushed? He couldn’t be blushing. That would be embarrassing.

“What if,” she started, rather timidly, “it won’t just be a kiss?”

Harry instantly knew what she meant. But he believed she was just saying that. There was no way she could offer him such a thing. He cleared his throat and awkwardly shook his head. “Still won’t affect anything.”

“Then why do you look nervous?”

“Because,” he said between gritted teeth, “you can’t say shit like that.”

“Why not? It was a joke.”

His fingers around her wrists tightened just enough for her to feel the pressure. Her lips slightly parted and he felt heat pooling in his stomach. He dropped his forehead on top of hers, watching her eyelids flutter as he nudged her nose with his. This pull they had been denying for the past couple of weeks was growing nonstop, and Harry had a feeling something might have to happen tonight.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he whispered. “I know you’ve been thinking about it, too. Don’t lie.”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let go of one of her wrists and held both with one hand. His other hand flew straight to her throat. He held it gently, watching her pupils expand as he tilted her head up just enough so they were face to face. “You want me to give in and do nasty things with you, but not only because you were hoping that would make me cross your name off the list, but because…” He pressed his lips gently to her cheek “...you…” her other cheek “...want..” her chin “...me.”

When he pulled back, her face was red. It wasn’t just her usual cute-ish rosy cheeks look. Her face was bright red. The red spread to the exposed area of her chest as well. Hell, she was blushing everywhere.

Harry’s eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head. “But I can’t,” he was almost saying to himself, “I won’t do it.”

“I thought it wouldn’t affect my soul,” she said softly.

“It wouldn’t. But it’d affect me.”

“How?”

He looked her in the eyes. He could tell her about his dream last night and the thing he’d done to her in that dream. How he’d bent her over on his bed, her tight little bum up in the air, her face in the pillow. She’d been wearing this same nightdress but without that ugly cardigan. The material was almost transparent, and he could see every detail on her body, from her perky tits to her round belly to that perfect spot between her legs. He’d bent her over and pounded her from behind, his fingerprints on her arsecheeks. He could still recall the feeling of her arse bouncing against him and every single sound that she’d made, like music to his ears.

Then he could tell her how sad that’d make him when he’d woken up and realised it’d been a dream. Because he knew that dream would haunt him. And if he made it into reality then he’d be haunted for eternity. She was the kind of person who would leave such a mark. This had happened before, centuries ago. Once in a lifetime was enough.

But he didn’t tell her any of that.

“Y/N, I’m a demon,” he said instead, slowly, as if he was afraid she hadn’t already known.

“I know,” she said, holding his gaze.

And that was it. He caved.

Harry had kissed more humans than he could count, but he couldn’t remember one kiss as powerful as this. When their lips attached, he saw sparks. It was funny how he’d spent years making fun of those movie scenes, but they didn’t lie. There really were sparks. Her lips were soft, just as he’d imagined, and her smell was strong. He didn’t know what she used, but she smelled like fruits and freshly baked pies, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He let go of her wrists and slid his palms down to her bum. He felt her tense though she didn’t break the kiss. What could he say? He wasn’t a gentleman.

She was smaller than him, so it was easy for him to just lift her up. She squealed, not expecting it but wrapping her legs around him anymore. He pinned her against the shelves and pushed her cardigan off her shoulders so he could kiss her neck and chest. Her skin was so warm. Oh Satan, she was soft everywhere. How was that possible? He almost stopped to tell her that, but when he sucked that sweet below her ear, she let out the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and he didn’t want to stop, ever. He knew he wasn’t thinking with the right head at the moment, but he’d been fighting against these feelings for her for so long. Now that he’d started, he just had to keep going.

She thrust her fingers in his hair. Harry found himself wondering if the wooden shelves behind her were digging too hard into her spine. This wasn’t something he should be thinking about when he was making out with a hot girl, but for the first time, it concerned him. But it seemed like he was the only one who cared that much. Y/N’s kisses had started out soft and warm. Now, they were claiming, less of a question and more of a demand.

The books rattled when Harry pressed his body along her front, for some reason he felt like he had to be as close to her as possible, as if trying to force their bodies into one. His lips drew a rough sound out of her throat. Desire swept through him, hot and curling in his belly before shooting through every notch of his spine.

They broke apart for air and Harry dragged his eyes open. Y/N’s hair looked so fluffy post-kiss and Harry’s fingers ached to touch it, so he did, hand carding through soft strands. “Your hair feels like a cloud.”

Y/N chuckled, then she kissed him again. Harry felt hands smooth down his back, felt them wrap around his ribs, and so he shoved her back against the bookcase again as his lips took and took from her.

And she gave and gave, like she wanted him to have all of her.

She reached for the hem of his shirt, desperate to touch warm skin, but his fingers once again curled around her wrist and pinned them to the shelves. He set her feet back on the ground, holding her wrists with both hands. Heat sparked at the base of his spine and caught inside of him when her breath hitched, as though the stretch in her shoulders burned in the best way.

“Harry…”

Harry smirked against her throat. The need to kiss her again was a physical ache, but he denied that from her when she leaned down. He tutted and pulled away. “I don’t think you’ve earned more kisses, have you? You weren’t being nice to me earlier.”

An embarrassing, reedy whine slipped between Y/N’s lips. It was obscenely loud in the silence of the library.

A knee slotted itself between her thighs, laying claim, pressing up in just the right way, and pleasure made her hips twitch. A whimper lodged in her throat.

Harry’s mouth curved up against hers, nails sinking into the skin of her wrists, gripping tighter. “You like that?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured, grinding his thigh between her legs in a way that he knew would have her seeing stars. He pressed his lips to her ear. “Just keep making those pretty noises.”

Y/N whined, hips rutting against Harry’s knee. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Har—”

“Look at me.” He dropped a hand from her wrist. Fingers squeezed her jaw. “Look anywhere else but at me, and I’ll stop.” His thigh jerked up again. A moan tore itself from her throat.

And Harry couldn’t keep away from her anymore. Their mouths clashed together, finally, finally. He tasted her groan on his tongue.

“If your brother hears us–” Y/N gasped, shamelessly grinding herself on his thigh. Harry didn’t want to be reminded of his brother’s presence in the house when he was literally rubbing her pussy with his thigh, but he’d be a fool to stop now just in fear of getting caught. He was never one to follow the rules anyway.

“So keep it down, little human,” he teased. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

Y/N shivered. His thigh rocked against her again, and she was losing herself.

“Please—Please fuck me,” she gasped.

Harry’s lips curled against hers. “Gladly.”

#harry styles #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagne #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles mature fanfic #demon!harry

280 notes · View notes

ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 2 years

Note

Hi! Sorry in advance that this is a bit of a long question! I’m fairly new to Larry (I fell down the rabbit hole a few months ago and am now hopelessly invested), but I’ve been reading everything I can to piece the story together myself. A lot of the established Larries I’ve seen have been pretty staunch to their belief that HL have been together beginning to end, but when I listen to the solo albums (Walls especially), I can’t help but feel there is a pretty conspicuous theme of splitting apart

and coming back together again: there’s “should’ve never let you go,” “I cut you off,” “I know you said that you'd give me another chance… mentally you were already out the door,” “I *was* better with you,” and “the day you walked away and took the higher ground,” from Walls, and also lines like “I know that you're tryna be friends” in Fine Line. These lines feel to me like they imply not just a rough patch, but an actual split. Not only that, but there is the video of Harry saying he wrote Two Ghosts “the first time he broke up with me” (unless this has been debunked and I totally missed it?) I’ve read your lyric analyses (which are incredible by the way, and I may have had a small emotional breakdown the other night while reading them — ESNY hits hard), and while it seems like you agree that these lyrics may allude to some kind of break happening, I’m really curious about what might have happened (and when it may have happened, if there was a breakup). To be clear, I firmly believe they are together now and whether or not they broke up doesn’t impact how I feel about them or their relationship, but I really don’t want to be the person that romanticizes their relationship and I *especially* don’t want to be the person that glosses over things just because they are painful or I don’t understand them, and the fact that a breakup really doesn’t fit in the timeline despite the above just keeps nudging me in the brain (hopefully that makes sense?). I’m really sorry if you’ve answered this question before and I didn’t see it or if I’m misinterpreting your analysis!! And thank you for all of the work you've put into your blog!

hello, kind anon! yeah this is one of those subjects that divides the fandom, ig, which is probably why you're having trouble finding answers. some ppl are adamant that they never broke up, others think they were apart for years, and yeah, i mean, we know nothing for sure, so either of those options could be true.

as is very clear from my blog, i love to base a lot of my convictions i have of them on their music. the stuff they themselves have written and put out, which contains so much truth maybe under a few veils of symbolism but we can work through those can't we. to give a quick answer to your question: i really don't have a firm idea of when a split might have happened.

and then i'll let myself loose a little and speculate, based on my obsessive reading of their music, some timelines here and there and my constant mulling over of anything they have ever done. their music, and then especially hs1, tells the story of a deep-rooted relationship suddenly going through changes in a way that has its members lose their footing (to put it super bluntly). my general idea about this is that they started having issues as soon as 1d ended, bc of the abrupt context shift, and them suddenly being forced to find a way through daily life without that dependence on the band's schedule. i don't mean their relationship was held together by the band, but i suspect that at some point they might have feared that. they lost sight of who they were supposed to be and it fucked with their brains. bad.

hs1 definitely mentions distance and separation, "you" being shut off, not calling, etc. so, to set my time frame super wide bc i genuinely don't have an idea, i'd say their main issues were very very active during the writing process of hs1 (which started pretty much after 1d). i do believe that h and l were in contact on and off throughout their break(s), though. their songs mention them taking time apart, and h waiting for l to be open, but there is always that baseline of being in touch, thinking about each other, loving one another okok ella don't get sappy yet save it for the end. and i also believe louis was there in jamaica for a brief period of time, while harry was making hs1. i don't mean everything was fixed by then, but they were def v happy at that point in time.

throughout the years, i think more of these ups and downs have happened, until hs1 finally got its reply in walls. louis took a while - and ofc walls was also written over the course of many years so i'm seeing this time frame very wide too - to come out into the hallway. hs1 has harry realising, slowly, what's wrong, and figuring out he needs to work on himself in order for the relationship to work, just like "you" has to. and he's just also sad about being lonely ofc, waiting for the other to come around. and then in walls, louis tells the story of an internal struggle he had to overcome to finally see what was in front of him, to finally be able to apologize and love properly. fine line, in my mind, fits in after this timeline, especially bc louis has made it clear that so much of walls was written long before its release, and simply bc the storyline makes most sense to me that harry is recounting their life after overcoming those major personal and relationship issues. by this i don't mean all of their problems are solved ofc bc in fine line there's still struggle but it's more on a personal level for harry and yk what i mean.

sooooo what's my conclusion. my view is that they struggled a LOT after 1d until hs1, then struggled some more but started talking, started working shit out properly, and during their semi-simultaneous polishing of fine line and walls, they reached that point where they could convincingly say they made it. fine line is just so full of gleeful, sappy love and walls is full of confidence and faith in their foundation as well as their future. bc hs1 still had that foundation, which we can hear the loudest in sweet creature - meaning they never gave up on each other - but in fine line the ecstasy of that love thriving is sung from the rooftops. and walls tells that entire story, to be honest. the struggle, the tenderness, the limitless dedication.

i hope this is.... somewhat of an okay answer that stills the mill of your mind trying to figure it out. i know this isn't really a straightforward answer, but i don't have one for myself either, and i've found i don't want one either. bc at the end of the day it doesn't matter, yk! they always loved each other, no matter what, and now they made it

#kind anon #discourse #pls if you don't agree w this that's totally okay #i will never argue about it in favor of one interpretation #also anon tysm!!!! you're so nice and thank you for being so considerate and nuanced in your wording #and for reading my posts :') <3

81 notes · View notes

pingutats · 3 years

Text

wake up in some promised land

despite his best efforts to keep their relationship out of the public eye, harry & y/n are photographed together as they leave a party one night —and harry has an interview the very next morning.

warnings: a little bit of angst about trying to navigate fame and a relationship. harry has a foul mouth. but there’s a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

. . . . .

Harry was decidedly not in a good mood.

It had been a late night. He’d had a few more drinks than he usually did. In his defence it was earned—he’d just released an album, it was soaring to great heights on iTunes charts all over the world and already receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews—so sue him if he indulged in some expensive champagne, a couple fancy cocktails, too many rounds of shots for him to remember clearly… It was a good night all around.

The headache he has right now though, brought on by the sudden blare of his alarm (far earlier than he would have preferred), threatens to tarnish the memory. He even considers swearing off drinking forever so he’ll never suffer like this again.

When he voices this intention to a dozing Y/N as he pulls a shirt on, his only feedback is a pillow-muffled, “You’re such an old man, H.”

He leans over the bed and kisses the small part of her forehead that’s exposed between the pillow and the blanket. “Come on, love. Time to get up.”

“You can get up. I don’t have a radio appearance to make.” She jerks the blanket up to cover her head entirely. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

He manages to drag her downstairs with him anyway, with promises of making her coffee and a hot breakfast. In the kitchen she yawns and stretches, the over-sized sleep shirt opening like bat wings as she raises her arms above her head. He has to force his fond gaze away to concentrate on turning the coffee machine on and pulling eggs out of the fridge.

“This is a really ungodly hour,” she comments, watching him rummage around in a cupboard for a frying pan.

“No such thing as a good night’s sleep when you’re as successful as I am,” he tells her wisely.

She doesn’t even indulge him with a laugh, which tells him exactly how tired she is.

The coffee’s done quickly—Harry is so addicted to the stuff he could probably make it in his sleep with all the practise he’s had—and she grabs the cup from him with greedy fingers, closing her eyes and sipping as she’s perched up on the counter.

Harry nearly lets out a moan when the caffeine hits his lips. It surely can’t work that quickly, but already he’s starting to feel alive again. He turns to the stovetop and cracks the eggs in the frypan with one hand, using his other hand to cling to his cup for dear life.

His phone starts ringing and the sound pierces through his head. His manager’s name is displayed, which is a good thing because if it was anyone else calling right now Harry would probably be tempted to kill them, and even if no publicity is bad publicity, he’s not sure a murder charge would be good for his album sales. He slides his finger across the screen to answer it and tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he adjusts the heat on the stove.

“Hey, Jeff,” he says.

Jeff laughs on the other end. “You sound fucked.”

“Big night,” Harry grumbles. “You don’t sound to pretty yourself.”

“All I’m saying is you better get yourself set in the next half hour, ‘cause a voice like that on the radio isn’t going to help you sell records.”

“I’m makin’ breakfast,” Harry retorts. “Got a coffee, I’ll be fine—oh, shit—fuck!” He’s mixed up his hands as he tried to flip the eggs, and poured coffee in the frypan. “Give me a second.”

He sets his coffee down on the counter and unsticks his phone from his cheek, turning it on speaker and placing it next to his cup. He stares at mess in the frypan and decides he’s going to have to try drain the liquid into the sink, without losing the eggs. He accepts this challenge with humility and grace, because he knows it’s his own stupid fault.

Y/N is cackling behind him. On any other day he might have been annoyed, but her laughter this morning just means that she’s in a better mood than earlier. He’d give anything to keep her happy, so if it takes fucking up their breakfast to have her smiling—so be it.

“Okay,” Harry says to Jeff once he’s secured the situation.

“Is everything okay over there?” Jeff’s voice is slightly tinny through the phone speaker, but his stress is evident in his tone.

“Yeah, we’re just—“ he looks at the eggs, dyed brown by the coffee, and glances over his shoulder apologetically at Y/N. “We’re having caffeinated eggs. You’re on speaker. Y/N’s here too. Say hi, baby.”

“Hey, Jeff,” Y/N chirps.

Jeff sighs. “Hi. Listen, it‘s probably good that you both hear this anyway. There are a couple of photos of the two of you from last night that are doing the rounds on Twitter this morning.”

Harry stiffens. “What?”

Here’s the thing: Harry and Y/N are definitely an item. It’s happened pretty quickly. They’ve been dating for a few months and now whenever they’re in the same city they’re practically living together. They’ve said “I love you” to each other often enough that its utterance isn’t a special occasion anymore. So, sure, they’re boyfriend-girlfriend, and if all goes to Harry’s plan, they’ll be more than that soon enough.

But in the meantime, she’s also his best-kept secret. There have been rumours, of course. They’ve been spotted having lunch together or going on walks. Anyone paying attention knows they’re good friends, but Harry has been careful not to let the other dimension of their relationship slip out into public yet. He conducts himself on public outings (secretly dates) like a Victorian gentleman, constantly vigilant that his affection never goes beyond what’s appropriate between friends.

“They’re not bad,” Jeff says quickly. “It’s just pretty obvious what’s going on. I’ll send them to you, hang on.”

Y/N slides off the bench and comes to stand right behind Harry, leaning around him to stare at the phone. The minute of waiting for the photos to come through feels like forever. Y/N must sense his tension, because she puts her hands on his shoulders and squeezes.

A notification pops up at the top of his screen: from Jeff, 8 images attached. He taps it quickly and frowns at the photos.

They must have been taken as they were leaving the bar that the album release party was at. He notices Jeff and others also crowded on the pavement outside, lit by the orange glow of streetlights. The focus, however, is of course on Harry and Y/N, who were putting on something of a show for all their friends—and, apparently, the rest of the world.

The first couple are okay. There Harry is, his arm slung around Y/N, clearly not sober as he bellows something up to the sky with a massive grin on his face and closed eyes. They were singing, he vaguely remembers, the karaoke they were doing inside the bar spilling over the rest of their night. Y/N is laughing at him, clapping her hands together.

Harry drags his finger up the screen to scroll to the next photos in Jeff’s chain. These ones start to reveal the two of them as much more than just friends. The arm around her dropped to her waist, pulling her into his body. And then he was bending his head down. And then he was kissing her.

He scrolls down even further.

In this one, he’s groping her ass in full view of the camera.

“Harry, you lecher!” Y/N scolds, smacking his arm in good humour.

He just shakes his head, staring at the photo. “There’s no plausible deniability, is there?”

“There isn’t,” Jeff says over the phone. He laughs weakly. “You two put on a real show.” He must sense the panic that Harry’s feeling, because he adds, “Listen, Harry, I can blacklist questions about it if you want. Just tell me what you want to do.”

Harry looks at Y/N, chewing on his lip. He feels like a teenager again, out of control of his narrative and at the mercy of the media. He’s meticulously developed his skills of privacy for years, now, and one night of insobriety and bad luck undid it all.

Jeff clears his throat. “The thing with blacklisting is that it might raise more questions. And even if you don’t talk about it, you’ve gotta remember that everyone else will be.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Look—“

Y/N puts her hand on his cheek, patting him. “Hey,” she says gently. “It’s okay.”

He sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth and holds it in for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says finally with a sigh.

She scoffs. “You’re not the only one in these photos.”

He frowns. She doesn’t get that he’s apologising for more than just the photos. It’s the fact that they have to deal with this at all, that it’s such a big deal for them to simply act like a normal couple. It’s the fact that it’s him, and he is who he is.

“H,” she presses further. “It’s up to you. Your decision. But I want you to know that I’m happy whichever way you choose.”

He searches her eyes for any hint of doubt. She didn’t manage to clean off all her make-up last night, and there’s a smear of glitter on her temple and dark smudges of mascara underneath her eyes. She looks tired, but she’s definitely serious about what she’s saying.

“You get what it means to be public with me, though,” he says at last. He hesitates. “It’s… intense.”

She shrugs and gives him a cocky grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” She’s holding his head in her hands, her fingers smoothing his unruly curls off his face. “It’s just a few photos. It isn’t everything.”

It isn’t everything. Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then leans down to kiss her gently. It’s just an innocent peck, but the feel of her soft lips against his is enough to ground him.

Jeff clears his throat awkwardly.

They break apart with embarrassed smiles. “Sorry,” Harry says, but he isn’t really.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sounding uncomfortable. “You’re going to have to make a decision soon, because we’re really cutting it fine.”

Harry looks at Y/N, who nods.

He turns back to the phone. “Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. “Let them ask the questions.”

“Yeah?” Jeff asks. “Okay then, that saves me a load of trouble. Good luck, man. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, hanging up with a sharp tap on the screen. He turns around to Y/N with a grin on his face. “Where were we…”

Y/N giggles as he gathers her into his arms, pulling her in close for a kiss that no one else can see or hear, a kiss just for them. When she pulls back to breath, he peppers his lips all over her face until she’s squirming away—“Harry, that tickles!”

He lands one last kiss on her cheek before his gaze lands on the time display on the oven behind her, which tells him he has ten minutes before he needs to be on the Zoom call for the interview.

She notices the sudden shift in his demeanour and glances behind her to see what caused it. She turns back around. “I’ll sit with you.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”

“It’s Harry Styles!” the presenter cries.

“It’s me! Hello, hello,” he says, waving at the screen. The laptop is set on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he grins at the screen. “How are ya?”

“Oh, we’re wonderful,” the presenter replies. “More importantly, how are you? Looks like you had a big night last night, judging by these photos we’re seeing!”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Big night,” he echoes, dragging out the word.

The presenter laughs. “Sounds like a great time. Well deserved after this masterpiece of an album. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you’re quite close with somebody there. Would you explain what’s going on here, Harry?”

Harry peers at the photo displayed on his computer screen, even though he knows exactly what it will be. The one they chose is a sweet one, with Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck and kiss that he seems to be melting into. He can’t suppress his smile at that. “Oh, well,” he says. “That’s my friend Y/N.”

The presenter raises his eyebrows at that. “Good friend, is she?”

Harry glances up over the laptop to look at Y/N, sitting on the other couch, her cheeks pink and round from her smile. Harry surreptitiously reaches his arm towards her, out of frame, and she leans forward to hold his hand.

“She is. She’s a lovely girl.” He squeezes her hand. “Yeah, we’re very good friends.”

. . . . .

thank you so much for reading! this fic is based on a request from @kissmyaxe140 — i really intended this to be a shorter blurb of a few hundred words, but i’m incapable of brevity. apparently. this grew into a little monster but i rlly had fun writing it!! the title is a lyric from secret life by bleachers.

if you liked this fic, a reblog and/or any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated. my masterlist can be found here and you can send me messages here. have a gorgeous day!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #fic

321 notes · View notes

nationalharryleague · 3 years

Text

Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU

Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away)

Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand

A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth @bfharry and @hardcandy-harry for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!!

****

Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.

Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.

As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.

She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.

It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’

The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.

Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.

For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.

The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.

He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.

“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.

“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.

“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.

“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.

Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.

“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.

“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.

“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”

“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”

She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”

No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.

Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.

The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.

He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.

“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.

“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”

His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.

For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.

Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.

The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.

The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.

She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.

Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.

“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.

Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.

Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.

“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.

“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”

“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”

“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”

Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”

For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.

She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.

Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.

***

They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.

When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.

Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.

She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.

“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.

“Can I sit?”

“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”

“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.

“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.

“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”

A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.

“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.

“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.

Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.

“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.

“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”

“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.

The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”

“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.

The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.

Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.

“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.

When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.

“Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.

She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.

“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.

“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”

She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.

“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”

“And which ones are those?”

“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”

“Did she really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.

“I’m sure that's not true.”

“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”

She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.

“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”

“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.

First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.

“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”

“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.

“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”

She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”

His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.

“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”

“I see.”

The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.

“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”

She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.

And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.

Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.

“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.

“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.

“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.

Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.

It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.

She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care. She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.

They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.

When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.

His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.

Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.

She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.

He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.

They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.

“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.

Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.

She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.

They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.

That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.

“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.

“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”

“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.

She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.

When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.

The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.

“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.

“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.

They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.

And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.

Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.

Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.

“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.

“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.

“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”

They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.

“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.

Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.

“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”

His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.

It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.

Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.

Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.

“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.

His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.

Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart.

“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.”

They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.

“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”

Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.

As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.

“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. “You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”

“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.

“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”

The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.

“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”

“So do I, Harry.”

The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.

Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.

“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.

She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.

His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.

She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.

She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.

He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.

***

The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.

It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.

They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.

But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.

In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.

Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.

The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.

She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.

“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.

She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”

The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.

She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.

She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.

It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.

Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.

First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.

“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.

She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.

She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.

Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.

She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.

***

She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral. Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.

He left his door open all day everyday.

When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.

“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.

The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.

She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”

“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.

“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”

He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”

He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”

She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.

She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.

“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.

He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.

Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.

***

Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.

He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.

But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.

This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.

But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.

She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.

“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”

“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.

The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.

“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.

“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.

Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.

“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.

“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.

“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Please send feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #prince harry styles #Royal AU #Harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

itsnothesameasitwas · 3 years

Note

greek mythology aus you say 👀 ana my dear pls spare some links 👉🏼👈🏼

yes… I said that my dearest friend 😌; sadly there are only a few ones but here the links of those i have already read

✰ To Hell and Back by poshboyfriends | 4k | NR | MDC (happy ending)

an au based off of the story of orpheus and eurydice, the one with the musical lute player who loses his lover and plays his way through the underworld to bring her back.

✰ The Five God Cure for One Anxious Heartbeat by homosociallyyours | 11k | GA

When OT5 decides to sneak into a music festival to have a bit of fun and maybe make a few people fall in love, they expect things to go relatively smoothly. Fate has other plans.

Or: Niall, Louis, Harry, Liam, and Zayn are just five lesser Greek gods out there trying to have a good time, and they're feeling so attacked right now.

✰ not even the gods above (can separate the two of us) by feelslikehxme | 17k | TUA

“Mhm. Soulmates, the two of them.” Harry lays back on the grass, shielding the sun from his eyes with his arm. The last thing Louis needed was the sun shining down on Harry, not that he was staring or anything. “Do you have a soulmate?” He asks, curious to how matchmaking worked. It must be nice, watching people around you fall in love.

“I do. Somewhere. Everyone has one.”

or the one where Louis finds out he's the son of Athena, Harry keeps matching him with the wrong people, Niall accidentally breaks into Louis's flat and Liam doesn't know when to stop asking out Zayn.

✰ Winter Pines and Ocean Eyes by binarysunsets | 14k | TUA

Harry is awoken by the sudden weight of his dog across his chest, and he yawns and stretches his arms above his head, relishing the crack of his back the gesture produces and sending Fen tumbling down onto the bed. There’s a niggling sensation that he has something important to do that day, but in his still-sleepy state he’s struggling to recall what it is. When it hits him, he freezes mid-rub of his eyes, and his hand slowly falls to the furs strewn across the bed. His fingers tangle into their soft texture and he bites his lip.

Right. It’s that day.The day he’s meant to travel south.

Or, the arranged marriage au between young viking Harry, son of his clan's chief, and a certain caesar by the name of Louis, heir to the empire.

✰ A Dangerous Night (To Fall In Love) by FallingLikeThis | 7k | E

“Hey, Harry!” Louis greets, walking up to Harry with a sunny smile.

Any other time, that smile would lift Harry’s heart even as it made it race. He could let himself get lost in it, would probably catch himself more than once hoping, wishing for it to be more than a smile aimed at a friend. He’d relish the moments he could forget that that’s all he is to Louis. Any other time, he’d be selfish and let himself entertain those thoughts. But this is not like any other time. Tonight is the beginning of the end.

or Harry has visions and sees the destruction of Pompeii before it happens. Now, how does he tell his best friend what's to come?

✰ this is heaven in hiding by hemakeshimstrongx | 48k | GA

Harry is destined to sit on a throne. Louis makes him want to throw it all away. Or: Harry embarks on the greatest journey of his life. Louis is there every step of the way.

✰ keep your eyes upon the skies by hypocorism | 12k | TUA

Disney - Hercules AU

✰ the tragic story of a muse and a war god orphan_account | 30k | E

Harry is a reckless god of war, Louis is a muse unspoken of, and their love might not be written in the stars.

PERCY JACKSON AUS

✰ in a sea of mist by tomlinvelvet | 126k | E

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs.

✰ How Far We've Come by hrrytomlinson | 32k | TUA

“This is Harry Styles,” Chiron offers.

He’s beautiful. His eyes are a stunning green, the color of new foliage. The new kid’s limbs are long and lanky—he looks extremely uncomfortable and uncoordinated. Louis internally smirks to himself, guessing the kid probably won’t be too skilled with a sword, or a bow, or anything sharp, most likely. His hair falls to his shoulders in sets of loose, brown curls. The color is rich and luscious, resembling soil so much that it looks like flowers could sprout from his hairline at any moment. But Louis’ eyes are stuck on his soft looking lips, pink as flower petals and slightly parted as his eyes scan the horizon of the camp.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Harry.”

✰ Like A Drum (Baby, Don't Stop Beating) by exitthequitters | 9k | NR

They walk through the camp together hand in hand, past the big house where Chiron waves happily at them, past the strawberry field where Louis first kissed Harry, past the lake where Louis first met Zayn and Liam, past the dinning hall where Niall sat down next to Louis before he knew he shouldn’t, and to Harry’s cabin.

Or, they're all sons of Greek gods at a summer camp for demigods.

HADES/PERSEPHONE AUS

✰ Breakable Heaven by amomentoflove | 44k | E

“What do you think?” Louis gets captured by Harry’s green eyes, unable to look away or even take a breath.

“I think you’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.”

“You must not have met many creatures then.”

Harry’s eyes glance downward to Louis’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own.

“None like you.”

✰ My Heart Lies With You by asphodelknox | 31k | M

“What did you hit me on the head for?” Louis said. He tried to frown, but it hurt too much. Plus it was hard to frown at someone taking care of him so tenderly. “I didn’t hit you on the head,” Harry said calmly, moving from Louis’s forehead to remove some bandages on his arm. “My friend Niall, the God of Death, hit you on the head.” “Well, why did Niall hit me on the head?” Louis asked. He noticed his lips hurt too, and felt a small gash on them. His arms were covered in scratches and cuts, and as he moved to sit up, he winced at a pain coming from his waist. “What the hell happened to me?” Harry sighed. “Niall… can get a bit… excited.” “Was he excited about hitting me on the head?” “No!” Harry said. “Niall just got away with himself.” “Does he do that often? Get away with himself, I mean?” Louis asked wryly. “Only when an idea gets stuck in his head that he can’t get out.”

For being the God of Death, Niall has a habit of acting on ideas without thinking them through. It's probably why Harry ends up with an unexpected but entirely welcome visitor in his bed the day after a Mount Olympus party.

✰ daisies & dying by xaz | 14k | E

Harry’s eyes stayed cemented to the marble tiles, engraining the memory of his shiny loafers and their contrast to the flooring as he heard the footsteps draw near. An icy hand yanked his chin violently, forcing his face forward.Hand still clutching Harry’s chin, the man gave a toothy smirk, “I’ve waited centuries to have you as my bride. I won’t settle for less than your full attention, my love.”

OR Hades!Louis and Persephone!Harry but make it pirates

✰ you flower, you feast by stylinsoncity | 18k | M

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

✰ For every reason why, you were my because. by hisfirstrealcrush | 3k | GA

He was his greatest form of love.

an au in which harry meets louis in his forest and nothing seems to matter but his ocean-like eyes and his warm embrace.

------

hope you like them!! <33

#greek mythology aus #larry fic rec #trackinghome #tracksintheam #solvetheminourdreams #stef sorry! I was half asleep when I got your ask #hope you liked them!!! <333 #@tania thanks for reading them with me hahaha #@beca i need to follow your advice and stop reading a lot JSAKSJAJS #my fic rec #themed fic rec

240 notes · View notes

comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

A Triwizard Baby Part 1 - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist,Taglist

Part 1 Fred Weasley x Fem Reader mini series

Requested/About: Best friends, Y/N and Fred Weasley share a night of passion together during the Triwizard Tournament, after that, everything changes and Fred can’t figure out why until the night of the final task. Y/N has the world on her shoulders, and Fred slowly finds himself losing everyone around him.

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

A/N: the ages/school year has been adjusted so everything is legal.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, intoxication, drunk and unprotected sex, losing virginity.

It all started when the more outspoken, confident twin crashed into you on the Hogwarts Express in your first year at Hogwarts. Sure, you were upset, embarrassed, and annoyed, but when you looked up and realised who had swept you off your feet, you knew it wasn’t your brain messing with you - from that moment you had fallen for him; Fred Weasley.

After your first train ride, classes, and many more along the way, over the years, you and Fred became best friends, going through thick and thin together, sharing the worlds loudest laughs, best pranks, and even the biggest tears. Your tiny crush on him blossomed into something much more, a love that couldn’t stop growing and spread out of control, but you were sure that Fred didn’t feel the same, and as you became older, reaching the end of your years in the education system, Fred discovered other girls and sex, whilst you drowned yourself in the life of parties and bottles of fire whiskey.

Fred loves the parties, he loves fire whiskey too, but he loves the other girls and the sex in a different way because they feed his ego, and it helped take his mind off you and the fact he didn’t have the guts to pursue you.

You were labelled as the party-girl which every girl wanted to be and wouldn’t challenge to a drinking game if their gold was on the table, and Fred gained the title as the play-boy, who made every lad jealous and watch in envy as he never got rejected and could flirt with any girl he wanted.

You had to hear the stories of your best friend fucking your classmates, and how much they loved it, praising him and gossiping about how skilled he was with his fingers, tongue, and cock. You were jealous, and you didn’t want to admit it, but you couldn't invent your sex life to reach Fred’s rank - you had never had sex - you were a virgin through and through.

Sitting next to Fred on the edge of his bed in the hospital wing you shook your head, laughing at the state of him and his twin, George.

“I’ve got to say, you’ve got a magnificent beard.” You laughed, the sight of George being an old man funnier than you expected.

Fred smirked despite still being pissed off with George “I never knew you were into older men” he winked.

“Well, you never asked.”

George groaned out “get a bloody room, the pair of you!”

You rolled your eyes at him and pulled Fred’s pillow from under his head, causing him to slump down, you bashed George with his pillow, sticking your tongue out at him and pulling a face.

“Y/N, don’t encourage them!” Madame Pomfrey hurried over, retrieving Fred’s pillow “Out! Out!” she shooed you.

Standing up and put your hands up in defence “Alright! I’m going!”

Fred’s smirk turned into a grin, “Watch the first task with us?” he asked.

You nodded “with pleasure, I heard Bill is going to be there.”

And you weren’t wrong, the first task came within the blink of an eye, you were honoured to meet Bill in passing - more like a “Hello!” with an awkward wave, followed by “Goodbye!” and another awkward wave, but the dragons fascinated you, and Fred spent the majority of the task watching you instead of the Hungarian Horntail, Swedish Short-Snout, Chinese Fireball, and the Common Welsh Green. George had to keep reminding Fred that their money and future business was on the line.

During the celebration party as it got later in the evening, you and everyone else surrounded Harry, clapping and cheering as he lifted the golden egg infant of him, parading it around, all of you watching and waiting eagerly, encouraging him to open it in hopes that it could liven up the party - giving everyone an excuse to stay up late and continue drinking.

Fred and George lifted Harry up, propping his legs on either of their shoulders, their arms strapping him in so he was above the large and busy crowd.

“Knew you wouldn’t die, Harry.”

“Lose a leg.”

“Or an arm.”

“Pack it in altogether.”

“Never!”

Fred and George stopped heaving Harry into the air, Seamus begging for a clue, you stared at Fred, your eyes getting lost in the strands of his long golden hair, but you weren’t the only one - the girls behind you were fixating on him, whispering about his good looks and height.

You zoned out completely, the same jealousy and bitterness spreading through your veins, you had to talk to him, tell him you loved him, but how?

Harry opened the egg, bright light of gold broke out followed by loud screeching, breaking you out of your toxic train of thoughts, Fred and George dropping Harry and flinching like you and everyone else, covering your ears and begging Harry to shut it up.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron interrupted.

Fred huffed and shook his head “As if this party couldn’t get any worse.” he turned around and tried to flee to his dorm room, calling it a night and encouraging everyone to get to bed.

The two girls behind you who were salivating over Fred pushed past you and called him over, blushing and batting their eyelashes at him.

“We’re throwing a party of our own” she eyed him up as if he was something to eat “tonight doesn’t have to end on a downer.”

Her plan worked, instantly gaining Fred’s attention, he grinned and nodded “Wicked, can I bring someone along?”

“George is already invited” her friend replied, smirking at George.

“Can I bring someone else too, though?” Fred asked.

The girls exchanged looks with one another cautiously, but they didn’t want to let him down or uninterested him, “Of course! Who?”

Probably his friend Lee or some girl he’s fucking.

“Y/N!” Fred called out, smiling at you “You want to join this party with me?”

The girls glared at one another, muttering and swearing under their breaths to one another.

This is your moment, Y/N, don’t mess this up, shoot your shot.

“Yeah!” You smiled back, feeling honoured and slightly shocked “Yeah, sure!”

Once everyone had cleared off, you and your new group sneaked out of the common room and into Moaning Myrtle's territory, all the professors were either partying or fast asleep, even Mr Filch and Mrs Norris grudgingly had the night off.

The dark and grubby bathroom spun around whilst you got onto your knees, the cold tile floor making you shudder when coming into contact with your warm legs. The two girls smirked and sat down too, the shorter one pulling Fred to sit down next to her, her hand continuously placing itself on his knee, ticking you off.

“Well, since Y/N decided to drink her feelings, we’ve got an empty bottle and we could do with a game to lighten up the mood.” The shorter girl spoke out, causing Fred to give her a dirty look for calling you out.

“What is it then?” George asked “Pretty shit place for a party.”

“Careful” you hiccoughed “Don’t want to make Mrytle cry.”

“We’ve decided truth or dare, but with spinning the bottle. Whoever it lands on has to answer a truth, or accept a dare from the spinner.”

You rolled your eyes “Seems very... tween like of you.”

Fred laughed.

“You weren’t invited, so feel free to leave if this party isn’t good enough for you.”

You ignored her and played along anyway.

“George” she squealed “Truth or dare?”

George hesitated for a moment “Truth”

“Does Fred keep you up at night with all the girls he brings back?”

After what felt like an eternity, the bottle finally landed back and George, and he spun the bottle, causing it to land on you.

“Y/N, truth or dare?”

I swear if you ask me anything stupid -

“D-dare.” you hiccoughed again, trying to act bigger than your boots.

George stared at the two desperate girls and looked back at you “I dare you to snog my brother.”

Okay, I really wish I went for truth, what was I thinking? Bloody hell!

“Okay then” you replied nervously, crawling in the middle of the circle, Fred crawling over to you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Fred’s warm, large, gentle hands cupped your face, leaning in, his lips pressed against yours shocking both of you as if a spark had ignited, whilst you kissed back, your hands tangled in his long golden hair and the two of you were suddenly hit with the realisation of how in love with one another you actually were.

More students had caught wind of the lame party and livened it up, playing music and brightening the bathroom up with colourful moving lights, bringing more fire whiskey and encouraging everyone to dance.

Everyone around you watched as you and Fred continued to snog, his tongue dancing with yours, his cock starting to support a semi, everyone cheered aside from the two girls who felt as if they had shot themselves in the foot.

“Okay!” the girl called out again, trying to pull Fred away “Times up!”

but he didn’t want to stop, and neither did you, the memories you shared playing out in front of you.

“I’m sorry for crashing into you” he frowned, sitting next to you on the train “is your head alright? I can try and make the bruising go away.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him, you chuckled and shook your head “It’s okay but thank you for offering” you smiled.

His twin brother entered the carriage, “Fred-” he stared at you “what’s happened to you?”

“I wish you were coming with us” Fred sighed, grumbling to himself.

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re going on holiday!” you beamed “just make sure you take plenty of pictures, I’ve heard Egypt is lovely!”

“I’ll write to you and I’ll send the photos through the owl post if I’ve got enough time.”

“We’re supposed to be studying for our O.W.Ls!” you hissed at Fred, hiding your answers from him as he continued to make your stationary levitate and drop onto your head.

“Please take part in this prank, Y/N” he begged “I promise I won’t ask for anything ever again.”

“But you always do, Freddie!”

He stared at you, pouting and making puppy eyes.

“Fine” you sighed, giving in “Let’s go and do it then.”

Fred punched the air and grabbed you by the hand, pulling you away from your desk, the two of you smirking and giggling with excitement.

“I didn’t realise it would be this cold” you shivered, standing outside of Honey Dukes, snow falling from the sky and sticking to the pavement.

Fred pulled off his knitted jumper “Put this on love, don’t want you freezing now do we?”

The memories snapped away as Fred fell back, his arm in the girl's hand, you were desperate for more and opened your eyes, frowning that he had been dragged away for a dance with her, you watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck and his hands rested on her waist.

Getting off your now red cold knees and standing up, you downed some more fire whiskey from the first bottle you laid eyes on and decided to copy Fred - dancing with anyone who wanted you - grinding against them, having them hold you close and breathing down your neck, you had to admit, for someone who had never done this before, you were doing a pretty good job, almost as if you had done it before.

Fred couldn’t get you, the kiss, the feeling of your lips, tongue, and the replay of memories out of his head. Breaking away from the girl, he approached you as you pulled away from the tall Hufflepuff lad, finally reuniting with the love of your life. Almost instantly, Fred’s lips collided with yours, your hands back to being tangled in his hair and his hand squeezing your behind teasingly, alcohol on your breath and his.

“I want you.” you breathed, pulling away from the kiss “I want you to fuck me like you do everyone else.”

“I want you too” Fred replied, taking your hand and fleeing from the party.

After what seemed like a marathon, you finally burst into Fred’s empty dorm room, he shut the door behind him and locked it before kissing you passionately, lowering you onto the bed and taking your clothes off.

This was it, the moment you were craving for years on end, this was it, this was how you would be losing your virginity, this would be giving yourself to your best friend entirely.

But Fred had no idea that it was your first time, in his head, you were having just as much sex as him.

Fred couldn’t get over the sight of your naked body, your breasts, your tummy, your bum, your inner thighs, your exquisite crotch - you were the definition of perfect, he had forgotten about every girl he had ever seen naked at the sight of you, you were making him feel as if this was his first time all over again.

Fred sucked on your nipples whilst he stimulated your clit with his fingers, warming you up, the sensation of his warm tongue and mouth sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, and as nervous as you were, you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he played with your touch starved clit.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Fred asked, pulling away from your breasts.

“Yes,” you breathed out, slurring slightly “I’m ready Freddie.”

Fred’s head, like yours, was also spinning. He stumbled and reached for the lube, applying it onto his length and then across your tight hole. Fred felt as if he had forgotten something, but the more he wracked his own brain, the more he couldn’t remember what he needed. He laid you on your back and climbed on top, lining himself against your entrance.

Looking at you one last time to make sure, you nodded, and he slowly pushed himself inside of you, stretching you out as your walls tightened around you. You winced as you experienced an entirely new feeling, Fred slowed down and stayed still inside of you so you could adjust to his size when you were ready to continue, Fred started to trust himself inside and out of you gently, holding your hand and kissing your head as you started to feel incredible pleasure, your soft moans spilling from your lips.

Fred couldn’t believe he had gotten so lucky, he was fucking - no - he wasn’t - he was making love to the most perfect girl in the world, someone he actually cared deeply for and had feelings for, you weren't a stranger, you were special, you weren’t temporary, you were soothing his aching heart - your absence was the cause, and your love - the medicine.

You watched as Fred’s hard cock slid inside and out of you, you admired his perfect body, the way he moaned and expressed the pleasure he was feeling through his facial expressions, you gripped onto his hand tighter as he picked up his speed and throbbed inside of you, you didn’t want this to end, you wanted to live inside this moment forever.

“My- My tummy feels tight” you panted, not knowing what was happening.

“Cum for me, Y/N.” Fred panted too “Don’t hold back.”

Oh, so that’s what that feeling means?

The pressure built up until it burst, you felt yourself explode as the pleasure became more intense, you relaxed and released, creaming down Fred’s length, your walls strangling him.

“Fuck!” Fred panted, the beads of sweat spreading across his forehead and back “I’m cumming baby!”

Baby.

“Y/N!”

Fred released his sperm deep inside of you without realising he didn’t have a condom on, you didn’t know whether he had put one on or not either, you didn’t know to ask or mention it, you were on birth control up until last week, you had to come off it due to the side effects and stress you under as your N.E.W.Ts approached.

Fred slowly pulled out and collapsed in your arms, the two of you holding one another, your eyes too heavy to stay open.

As you drifted off to sleep, your life was about to change forever.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @alwaysnforeverfangirl @inglourious-imagines @horrorxweasley @sebby-staan @onlyfreds @pandaxnienke @xmalfoyweasleyx

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #ron weasley #bill weasley #bill weasley x reader

418 notes · View notes

peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

ice blue - tommy shelby x reader

a/n: hi lovelies! i literally just finished typing this and i’ve gotten so many notes on my preview of it that i literally couldn’t wait to give this to you guys. i really really hope you like it :) lmk if there’s anything in specific you guys want me to write, otherwise the next thing i’m working on is gonna be with john (i’ve already started it and this one is fucking hOt a bitch is sweating). as always message me literally about anything or if you want me to start a taglist

love, abi xxx

prompt: you’re back home in Birmingham and you need a job. Tommy Shelby offers you one.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, light choking, power kink oops

You stepped out of the car, cold air coming up to brush against your ankles as you shivered in the brisk English evening, wrapping your black wool coat tightly around you. You were once again new to Birmingham, having grown up there, but at the age of 9, you were sent to a boarding school in London after your parents were killed in a house fire. You had gone on to college, but had to drop out because you simply couldn’t make ends meet. Now, at the age of 21, you were back home, looking for a job, and as soon as you arrived, the first person to call was your best schoolmate, Ada Shelby. Ada was spunky, fearless, and didn’t take no for an answer, which was one of the reasons the two of you got on so well. She had insisted on taking you out to her family’s bar, despite your pleas that you were exhausted. Fuck it, you had thought to yourself. If you were going to go out, you were going to look good doing it. So, you slipped on your best set of red silk lingerie and your shortest black lace dress which dipped low to accentuate your breasts and applied a dark red lipstick as well as eyeliner. Underneath, you slid on a pair of sheer black tights and slipped on black kitten heels. You slipped on a pair of dangly silver earrings, admiring yourself in the mirror before you had slid your silver cigarette case and lighter into a black clutch, shrugged on your coat, and made your way out the door.

There, Ada had been waiting in the back of a Model T, looking gorgeous in a dark purple silk dress. She had greeted you with open arms and a huge smile, chattering on about how beautiful you looked and how much she had missed you. The two of you had managed to stay in contact throughout the years, writing letters about the current events, so you knew all about her baby, and pressed her with many questions about how she was doing. Now, here you were, in front of a bar, the muffled drunken shouts and laughter seeping through the brick walls.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Ada grinned at you, nudging you with her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go in, and don’t worry about paying. This is my family’s bar,” she said, leading you towards the wooden doors.

“Fuck, Ada, your family owns this whole thing?” You marveled at the exterior of the building as Ada practically dragged you towards the double doors.

“Yeah, it’s all that and everything,” Ada waved her hand dismissively as she reached for the door handle. “Let’s get to the damn bar already, I need a fucking drink.” She pulled the doors open and the noise washed over you, the smell of alcohol permeating the air. The bar was dimly lit, with leather upholstery and plenty of drunk Englishmen. Bottles of spirits adorned an entire wall behind the bar in the rear. The noise swirled around you as Ada pushed her way through the crowd, determined to reach her destination. Finally, you reached the bar, and almost immediately a bartender appeared. You had known the Shelby’s were powerful, but Ada had never really talked about her family’s business. They must have been fucking loaded; the way people parted for Ada, you couldn’t even imagine the way they must have bowed for her brothers. You had never really interacted with them, but you assumed that was going to change. All you really knew about them was from the rumors, which were gruesome and plentiful.

“Give me two whiskeys,” Ada said to the bartender, who slid the glasses her way. “Thanks, Harry,” Ada yelled, handing you a glass and pulling you towards the rear of the bar, opening a door and ushering you in. As soon as you entered the room, the entire atmosphere shifted. This room was much quieter; you could even hear jazz music over the chatter. Smoke clouded the air, and you downed your drink to quiet your nerves, as you had realized that these were some of the most powerful people in the city that surrounded you. A maid appeared to take you and Ada’s jackets, and as you slipped off your coat, a wave of insecurity hit you. Ada was making small talk with an unfamiliar woman next to you, and you tapped her shoulder, telling her you were heading to the bar as she nodded, shouting after you, “When you come back, get me another whiskey!”

You laughed, turning and making your way to the bar, sliding into a stool upholstered with crushed red velvet. You motioned the bartender over, and as you waited, you took out a cigarette and lit it. The bartender set your whiskey in front of you, and as soon as you had picked it up, Ada had you by the arm and was tugging you to a booth, your whiskey and cigarette still in hand, your clutch tucked under your arm. In the booth sat three men, each of varying ages and all adorned in formal wear and newsboy caps, complete with glistening pocket-watch chains.

“Shove over,” Ada said, pulling you into the booth next to one of the brothers. “Y/N, these are my daft brain brothers, Arthur, Tommy, and John.” The oldest, sporting various scars across his face did little but grunt and touch his hat, getting up to exit the booth, and the youngest had already started bickering across the table with Ada, something about who was the biggest idiot. The middle brother, however, was fucking gorgeous. You already knew you were screwed. He had long doe eyelashes, framing ice blue eyes, and his jawline was neatly defined. His cologne alone was doing things to you. Get it together, you thought to yourself, downing the whiskey in your glass. The motion caught his attention and you felt his gaze on you, piercing your soul and sending goosebumps down your spine. He put his cigarette to his mouth and took a drag, and you couldn’t help but draw your eyes to the way his lips parted.

“You like Irish whiskey?” His smooth voice shook you to the core. You looked at him in shock for a second before quickly collecting yourself.

“I’ve always drank it, my whole family does,” you responded, your gaze lifting to meet his. He leaned back, eyes drinking you in. You chewed your lip, pressing your thighs together in an effort to quench the ache that had begun to form.

“Tommy!” A voice rang from across the room. The brother, who you assumed now was named Tommy, stood. “Excuse me for a minute,” Tommy said, stepping aside to converse with a woman you recognized as Ada’s aunt. The woman seemed angry, but then, from what you remembered, she always had. After a few minutes, she left and Tommy slid back into the booth, exhaling and shooting his whiskey. Ada and the youngest brother, who you had learned was John had both moseyed off, so it was just you and Tommy in the booth, in the corner of the room. Tommy took a drag of his cigarette and sighed.

“Ada told me you need a job,” he said, eyes lingering on you.

“I do,” you admitted, “but I don’t want you to feel obliged or anything. I can manage-”

“I need a new assistant,” Tommy cut you off, but you honestly didn’t mind. Something about the way he did it managed not to rub you the wrong way. “It’s mostly paperwork, but I’d pay you well. 40 shillings a week.” Tommy took the last drag of his cigarette, putting it out while still holding you in his gaze.

“I can do that,” you managed to blurt out. God knows what you were getting yourself into, getting hired by a man that not only had a notorious reputation but was making you trip over your own words. Something about the way he looked at you, though, made you say yes. You already couldn’t resist him. God damn it, you thought to yourself.

Across from you, Tommy pulled his jacket on. “Monday, 8 am. My office.” He slipped a piece of paper to you with an address scrawled on it, standing and leaving. As quickly as you had become intoxicated by him, he had left. The whole night, throughout all of Ada’s chatter, on the way home, in the bath, in bed, he never left the back of your mind. You wanted to be his, as much as you tried to fight the thought for not only your sake but Ada’s. You knew it was impossible, that he would want you like this, so you reserved yourself to daydreaming. His hands on your hips, his mouth on yours: you craved it, unsatisfied by your own touch even after multiple rounds. You couldn’t escape him.

***

You awoke nervous, stomach doing cartwheels. You hadn’t seen Tommy since Saturday at the bar when you had met, and the anticipation of seeing him and having to hold yourself together and not beg him to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture was almost overwhelming. You decided on a simple black blouse and a tight black skirt with black tights and heels. You pulled your fitted wool coat over your shoulders and stepped out into the cool British morning, horses clopping past as your heels clacked over the bricks, making your way past children playing and yelling. The wind whipped past your cheeks, staining them a rosy pink as you pulled open the heavy wooden door of the office building. The warm air surrounded you, and above the conversations between the workers seated and standing around desks, you could faintly hear Ada arguing with someone in a back room somewhere. The office consisted of wood furniture and a couple of separated rooms, you assumed, for Ada’s brothers, the heads of the company. The fireplace in the corner provided a much needed reprieve from the wind outside, and you slipped your coat off, hanging it on the coat rack. One of the doors read “The office of Thomas Shelby” in gold lettering, and you knocked lightly, not wanting to appear late on your first day.

“Come in,” Tommy’s voice echoed from inside the room and you opened the door, closing it slowly behind you. Tommy was seated at a dark leather chair behind a desk, taking a drag from a cigarette whilst reading from a newspaper spread out in front of him. He looked up at you, clad in a dark grey vest which hugged his chest deliciously with a white collared dress shirt and black tie underneath. Gold chains sat firmly on his biceps, ice blue eyes boring through your clothes and making your cheeks flush. He sat like a king on his throne, and it was tantalizing.

“Good morning, Mr. Shelby,” you spoke quietly but firmly, eyes trailing up to meet his. He cracked a small smirk when your gaze met his, and it felt like he could see right through your shirt and your black lace bra. It must be your imagination, you thought, that he could be undressing you with his eyes like that. Surely you were delusional.

“You decided to take me up on my offer, I see,” Tommy said, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest in a way that made you want to test his self control. “You know how to type, I assume?” His eyes flickered over your figure, lingering on the curve of your hips, making you feel like this wasn’t a regular business transaction. What you wouldn’t give to be one of the whores he visits in the middle of the night… You quickly gathered yourself together and responded.

“Yes,” you spoke. “I’ve worked as a secretary before.” Tommy nodded, standing and making his way around the front of his desk to lean on it, narrowing the space between the two of you significantly. “I’m not your normal businessman, you see,” he said, leaning back against the desk. “I keep odd hours, so if I asked you to stay late, would that be a problem?”

“No sir,” you replied, unable to rip your eyes off of the curve of Tommy’s lips and how they looked puffing at a cigarette.

“Good girl.” Your mouth dropped open slightly at his shameless assertiveness, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You couldn’t believe his forwardness, you thought, but you weren’t going to lie, it was fucking hot. Tommy grinned at you, turning his back to grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the barcart in the corner of the room. He made his way back to his seat and placed the whiskey as well as the glasses on his desk, filling each and gesturing for you to sit with his hand. You sunk into the chair, legs crossed tightly in an attempt to relieve your throbbing core. You were absolutely fucked, you thought. Tommy opened a drawer, rifling through some papers before producing a contract typed in black ink.

“Cheers,” he offered you a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. You accepted both, quickly rifling through the contract and scribbling your signature on the last page. Once you signed, your eyes flickered up to meet Tommy’s and he grinned, boyishly handsome yet devious.

“To new beginnings,” he said, offering his glass to clink against yours. You downed the whiskey in one gulp as Tommy looked on, blue eyes drinking you in.

“Nervous, darling?” he drawled, puffing at his cigarette. You suddenly felt a rush of confidence you hadn’t before. You could play this game too, and if you were, you were going to do it well.

“No,” you shook your head, a shy smile playing at your lips. “Just want to get to the point, is all.”

Tommy chuckled. “A woman after my own heart, aye?” With every glance he gave you, you became more emboldened. Yet, the man was still your boss, and you were in no place to proposition him, so you had to play coy.

“If that’s what you’d like, Mr. Shelby,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you reached for your cigarette case, taking one out and lighting it, exhaling a small cloud of smoke. Tommy refilled his glass, taking a swig as he stood and made his way to a cabinet, retrieving a stack of papers. He made his way back to his seat, placing the pile in front of you.

“I need these transaction records typed up by Friday, end of the day. Can you do that?”

You nodded, pink-stained lips puffing at the butt of your cigarette. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy’s eyes flickered towards your mouth, and he took another drink. “For now, yes. I’ll have John show you to your desk, yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. Shelby,” you responded politely, putting out your cigarette. You could feel Tommy’s eyes on you as you left the room. As soon as you closed the office door behind you, you almost let out a sigh of relief. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been pressing your legs together, and they almost felt shaky. You didn’t know how you were going to get through another day of this, let alone the rest of the week. Fuck me, you thought to yourself.

***

The rest of the weekdays flew by, as you kept yourself busy with not only the work Tommy had given you but also managing his appointments and relaying his messages to his two brothers and other various family members. You got on with everyone in the office relatively well, most likely at Ada’s enforcement. She could be very assertive, but that was normal, considering she was the only girl with 4 brothers.

Your contact with Tommy, though often, was all business. He would spend hours at his desk, frowning down at various papers and logs with his whiskey and a cigarette, long after the others had gone home. He would always send you home though, telling you to get some rest. Though he was assertive, you found him to be surprisingly sweet. He didn’t hold doors for you or anything like that, but you didn’t expect that; you knew your place in the company. However, he never kept you late if you looked exhausted and would do small things, like let Ada interrupt your work with whatever news or gossip she had, and never said a thing, just smiled. However, Ada’s chatter had gotten the better of you and it was already Friday.

Around 8pm, after most of the office had left for the day, you finally typed up the last transaction log, sighing with relief and slumping back in your chair for a brief moment before straightening up and smoothing out your plum-colored pencil skirt and white blouse. You flipped open your contact mirror, making sure your pinned-up hair looked acceptable before putting out your cigarette, gathering the pile of papers and log, and knocked on Tommy’s door.

“Come in, Y/N,” Tommy’s voice came through the door and you shivered, already nervous not only to be alone with him but also about the quality of your work. You pulled the door open, closing it behind you and walking up to Tommy’s desk, where he sat in a light grey three-piece suit reading through a folder. A pair of gold spectacles sat neatly on his face, and a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, making your mind wander.

“I have the papers you wanted typed up in the log, Mr. Shelby,” you spoke, clutching the book so tightly in your hand that you had to tell yourself to loosen your grip. “Is there somewhere you’d like me to put them?”

Tommy gestured with his right hand towards the desk, his eyes still trained on the files. “Set them on the desk, and stay.” You complied, standing in front of his desk, and Tommy closed the folder, placing it into a drawer and locking it, taking off his glasses and setting them down on his oak desk. He reached for the work you had completed, flipping through it and letting out a small grunt of approval. “Very good.”

A blush crept across your cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Shelby,” you responded, trying to focus your mind on something other than the way he would look on top of you.

Tommy set the work aside, eyes now firmly trained on you. “Tell me something, Y/N,” he said, taking a draw from the cigarette in his mouth. “Have you ever been fucked?”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Mr. Shelby, I-”

Tommy chuckled, shooting his whiskey and refilling his glass from the bottle on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not asking if you’re a virgin. I’m asking you if you’ve ever been fucked, properly.”

Your face was a rose pink, and it wasn’t just from the embarrassment. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Shelby-”

“I think you do.” Tommy smirked at you, ice blue eyes tracing your figure. The heat between the two of you was practically unbearable, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing.

“No, not really,” you whispered, thighs clenched together as your eyes met Tommy’s.

Tommy smiled, almost deviously. “I didn’t think so,” he said, taking another drag and putting the cigarette out as he stood, coming around his desk and leaning back against it, eyes still fixed on you. “Do you want to be?”

You almost couldn’t believe the words you were hearing. Yet, Tommy was here, in front of you, asking if you wanted to be fucked by him. “Yes.” The answer almost fell out of your mouth, and your knees felt weak. Tommy wasted no time in closing the distance between the two of you, pressing you up against the nearest wall as his lips met yours. The feeling of his body against yours was better than you had imagined, and as his hips met yours, you let out a soft moan into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Tommy growled, picking you up by your legs and placing you on his desk, sweeping all the papers off with a sweep of his arm. A glass crashed onto the ground but he didn’t care, tugging his shirt over his shoulders while you removed yours. He pulled you against him roughly as he reconnected his lips with yours, his cock pressed up against your damp underwear. He stopped kissing you to let you pull off your skirt, discarding it somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your black garters and underwear.

“Look at you,” Tommy groaned, palming his cock through his trousers as he stared at your touseled hair and swollen lips and the way you were breathing hard. “All fucking riled up for me already, and I haven’t even gotten you naked yet, aye?”

“Mr. Shelby, please sir,” you whined, eyes widening as you realized what you had just said. Tommy’s eyes, however, darkened as he stepped inches away from you.

“Is that how you want it, huh?” Tommy breathed down your neck and you shivered, his hand gently wrapping around your throat. “You want to be fucked on the boss’s desk?” He reached his other hand down to cup your cunt. You squirmed in protest, pushing yourself against his hand as he chuckled darkly.

“You going to be a good girl for me?” Tommy cajoled, pressing his palm against your clit. You moaned, nodding vigorously as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He pulled your panties down, ripping your garters off and slipped a finger inside of you, making you cry out in response and clench around his fingers. He quickly joined that finger with another, pumping them in and out of you.

“Oh fuck,” you cried as you felt your release approaching. “Oh God, I’m gonna cum..”

“Cum for me then, pretty girl. Make a mess for me, yeah?” Tommy growled into your ear as you came all over his fingers. Tommy chuckled as you caught your breath, bringing his fingers to his mouth.

“God, you’re sweet,” he murmured, his eyes blown out with lust. Your breath hitched at his words and you kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pushed your back against the desk, unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock before running the tip of it against your wet core.

“Please..” You squirmed against him in an attempt to get him to comply.

Tommy smirked. “What is it you want, huh?” You moaned in response, hips rocking up. Tommy’s hand made his way to your neck, holding it firmly yet not hard enough to bruise. “I wanna hear you say it, sweetheart. Maybe then I’ll give it to you.”

“Sir, please,” you cried out, hips still undulating. “I want your cock inside me.”

Tommy’s eyes dilated and he pushed himself inside of you, snapping his hips against yours at an unbelievable pace. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you were seeing stars, but you wanted everything he was willing to give you. He hadn’t even claimed you, yet you were already his. Your moans echoed throughout the office as he fucked you faster, your hands gripping at the desk, then scratching at his back. He didn’t seem to care about the marks, as he buried his face in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt yourself coming close to the edge once again, and you tipped your head back, crying out as Tommy fucked you through your second, third, and fourth orgasm. He had you over the desk, up against the wall, even on the chair, and you didn’t care. You wanted it just as badly as he did. Finally, Tommy had you on your back on the couch, hand around your neck as he fucked you. Your eyes flickered up to meet his as you gasped.

“Please come in me, sir,” you gasped as Tommy grunted, setting an unrelenting pace.

“You’re mine,” he growled as he fucked into you. “Every inch. If I catch anyone here even looking at you, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill them. You belong to me now, yeah?” He panted.

“I’m all yours,” you moaned at the thought.

“Mine,” he groaned, his cock twitching before he released inside of you, cum dripping down the backs of your thighs. It felt dirty, but you didn’t care. Tommy Shelby could make a mess of you in front of the entire World’s Fair and you wouldn’t protest.

After a moment of delirious silence, Tommy stood, lighting a cigarette and offering one to you. You took it graciously as he sat next to you, leaning back into the crushed velvet.

“So,” he said, blue eyes looking into yours, “I ripped your garters.” He reached into his discarded pants’ pocket, pulling out a 10 pound note from a huge stack and offering it to you.

“So you can buy new ones,” he spoke, taking a drag from his cigarette.

You accepted it, taking a drag from your cigarette. “So, would this make me a whore now?”

Tommy chuckled. “We’re all whores, Y/N. We just sell different parts.” He took a puff from his cigarette, exhaling softly. “But now, you’re with me. You’re going to have to get used to nicer things, yeah?” His eyes traced your figure before coming back to yours, smiling softly.

“If you say so, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled shyly before putting your cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and retrieving your discarded clothing from around the room, putting it on one piece at a time. You could feel Tommy’s eyes on you as he drank from his glass, and you liked it. Before you could start to make your way to the door, Tommy quickly pressed you up against his desk in a passionate kiss.

He broke the kiss, smirking slightly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

You looked up at him inquisitively. “But I haven’t even given you my number.”

Tommy grinned. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll get it,” he said, eyes drifting after your figure as you headed for the door. Before you left, you looked up into his ice blue eyes. “Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tommy responded. You closed the door behind you, taking a deep breath after you left his office, already craving his touch on you again.

Tommy Shelby was going to be the goddamn death of you.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #john shelby smut

834 notes · View notes

hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years

Text

In it for you (H.H)

Summary: A drunken conversation leads to more than you were expecting.

A/N: I dont even know how i feel about this... but here ya go :)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

Taglist

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff (Please let me know if i missed any)

The second Tom saw you walk through the door he was determined to find Harry before you. He had tried to keep the secret to himself, despite already telling everyone except Harry, he just… he was bad at keeping secrets, everyone knew that.

He spotted his brother quickly, making his way through the crowded kitchen to where he was standing making drinks.

"Need to tell you something about Y/N," Tom said quickly.

Harry's eyes widened as his face filled with concern, " is she ok?" He demanded.

"No, yes, she's fine," Tom stumbled over his words looking over his shoulder to make sure you weren't close to them. His eyes met yours and you smiled and offered a little wave before starting to make your way over. "Shit," Tom mumbled, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him behind him and out to the porch.

"Jesus, Tom..," Harry laughed, as he looked through the sliding door to see you obviously confused as to where the two of them had gone.

"She's in it for you, Baz," Tom told him, not even looking toward him.

"She what?" Harry asked.

"In love with you," Tom clarified, looking over to his curly haired brother.

"What are you talking about?" Harry questioned, a bit shocked, and a bit confused.

"Last week, the pub, remember how the two of you were dancing all night?" Tom asked.

"Yeah-"

"And then you left cause you had to work in the morning, so y/n stayed with haz and I," Tom explained. "She drank a little too much, got a tad emotional, and cornered me to tell me she was in love with you, like pictured your wedding day and kids kinda love," Harry listened carefully, his heart pounding in his chest at the words he was hearing.

"With me?" He asked.

"You," Tom nodded.

Harry walked over, peaking through the glass door to see you standing next to his twin, giggling at some probably not funny joke someone had told, because that's just how you were. You looked unbelievably gorgeous Tonight, a tight medium length skirt with a black blouse that was lower than what you usually wore, showing off your nearly perfect cleavage. Harry turned back to Tom, smacking him in the shoulder.

"Why did you wait to tell me you div," he groaned.

"She swore me to secrecy," Tom tried to defend himself, but just ended with an eye roll from Harry. Just then the door slid open and you stepped outside.

"Here you two are," you giggled, shutting the door behind you. "Oh, it's kinda cold, why are you guys out here?" You asked.

Harry acted fast in pulling off his zip up and draping it over your shoulders, "Tom dragged me out to talk about something," Harry explained.

You smiled, slipping your arms into the arm holes that were nice and warm, the smell of Harry wafting to your nostrils.

"Well, what's going on?" You asked innocently. Tom's face turned an unflattering shade of red. "I have to find Tuwaine," he blurted, practically making a run for the house.

You chuckled watching him struggle to get past the accumulation of people in the kitchen. "What was his deal?" You giggled.

"He's an absolute div, that's what," Harry chuckled. "Wanna know what he told me?" He asked you.

"Obviously, spill the tea," you joked, nudging him with your shoulder.

"He said you were in love with me," he chuckled, watching your face fall.

"Oh," you said, remembering drunkenly divulging a bit too much information to Tom last week. You had hoped he would have not remembered, or at least stuck to the promise of not telling anyone. "He wasn't supposed to tell you that," you mumbled as you felt your face flush in embarrassment.

"It's true then?" Harry asked, almost sounding angry.

"I mean, in a sense, I was drunk Har, it wasn't a big deal," You told him.

"It was a big enough deal that you confessed to my brother. You could have just come to me," he shook his head like he was in disbelief.

"I didn't want to tell you, honestly it's none of your business," you huffed.

"It has to do with me," he pointed out.

"My feelings for YOU, I don't owe you an explanation for that, and I didn't tell you because I figured something like this would happen, your acting like this is some major thing and you're making a big deal," you explained.

"It is a big deal y/n, something like this could ruin our friendship," he deadpanned.

"Oh my god," you groaned. You slipped his jacket off your arms and handed it to him.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm leaving," you told him. "You know, so I don't ruin our friendship with my yucky feelings," you turned and stormed inside. You didn't tell Harry, you never wanted him to know, this wasn't your fault. So you did the logical thing.. you fled.

Harry felt like an idiot, instead of just admitting his feelings he went and had to question yours, pissing you off to the point of storming away from him.

"What the heck happened?" Tom asked Harry after watching you storm through the house.

"I'm a div," Harry groaned.

"I'll say, I literally told you so that you could tell her how you have felt, what did you say?" Tom demanded.

"That her feelings could ruin our friendship," he told his older brother.

"Mate," Tom laughed. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

Harry stood up straight looking at his brother. "I have to go find her, I'm a freaking idiot," He slid open the back door making his way through the house to find you. When he couldn't find you after a couple of minutes he found his twin. "Sam," Harry pleaded.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Y/n, have you seen her?" Harry hoped he would find you before it was too late.

"Yeah, Haz took her home about five minutes ago," Sam told his brother.

"Fuck," Harry groaned, drooping his head to sulk. He probably screwed up any chance of you and him ever being more than friends.

"I didn't even tell him Haz, your big mouthed best friend did," you told him as you slumped onto your couch.

"I mean, he was probably just shocked, love," Harrison said softly.

"I didn't expect him to profess his undying love for me, but like. 'hey I like you to' or 'y/n I don't see you like that would have been sufficient. But no, I got a lecture about how my feelings could ruin our friendship, a friendship that has been going on for nearly fifteen years!" You slid farther down the couch as the embarrassment truly started to hit you. Your best friend knew your feelings, they would always be lingering, and you weren't sure you could deal with that. You loved Harry, more than you should sure, but he made it so goddamn easy. The way he put everything above himself, and was so adamant on listening to others. He was never his own first priority, and you loved how driven he was to make a difference, to help less fortunate people be seen and heard. He was the best person you knew, and you wished that he felt the same about you, but you knew you had your flaws. You weren't selfless like he was, you didn't make time for important things, you liked to spend your free time with your friends instead of making a difference, and in the grand scheme of things, you would never be enough for Harry. He deserved the world, and you, well you were barely a star.

"You actually love him?" Harrison asked you.

"So, so much," you sighed. Maybe you could call him and tell him it was all a big joke, or maybe you could just pretend it had never happened. You shook your head knowing that was unrealistic, he knew, you had spoiled that the second you confessed your feelings to Tom.

There was a light knock on your door but you were too numbed to be bothered to answer, luckily Harrison walked over to open it. "Oh, good," he laughed. "I'm going to go to bed now, she's officially your problem," Harrison told whoever had come into your apartment before going to his room.

"I'm not anyone's problem," you mumbled loudly.

"You're not a problem at all," Harry's voice said from behind you.

"Jesus Christ," you squealed, jumping up. "Scared the living shit out of me Holland,"

He laughed, shaking his head slightly, "sorry," he mumbled before jumping over the couch to sit where you had just been. You exhaled rather dramatically before sitting beside him, leaving enough space between you two so you were not touching.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, watching him intently as he avoided looking at you.

"Well, for starters, I'm a div," he chuckled.

"The biggest," you agreed.

"Yeah yeah," he looked up at you, tossing a pillow towards you. "Feelings make things messy," he blurted out.

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. "They can," you whispered.

"If I tell you how I feel, you have to promise me things won't go bad, you're my best friend, and I can't lose you," he explained.

You sighed knowing he was going to tell you he didn't feel the same, you expected as much. He was Harry of course, he could have anyone, why would he even want you? "It's ok Harry, honestly, I didn't expect you to like me, when there are girls practically throwing themselves at you," you told him.

His brows furrowed together as he studied your face. "Why would I not like you?" He wondered.

You shrugged your shoulders, "because you deserve the world, and I'm barely a star in your sky," you told him.

"And late at night, when I glance up to the sky, do you think I'm looking for the world? Or do you think I'm looking at the stars?" He demanded.

"Probably the stars," you giggled.

"So why would that make you my second choice? Stars are so much more than the world," he told you.

You smiled, nodding towards him. He shifted his weight, reaching out his arm towards you to snuggle into. You slid across the couch, cuddling into his side, his arm protectively around you, as you both just sat there.

"I love you," Harry whispered after a few minutes.

You looked up at him, tears pooling in your eyes. "You do?" You wondered.

"I have for so long," he nodded, as he swiped away a single tear with his thumb. "I've just been scared that things would change for the worse,"

"They don't have to change at all," you whispered.

He nodded, stroking your hair gently, "yeah but if they didn't change at all I wouldn't know what it's like to kiss you," he told you.

"Do you want to?" You asked, sitting yourself up a bit.

"Desperately," he nodded, leaning forward and molding his lips with yours in what was sure to be the first of many kisses shared with Harry.

Tag list:

@violetlilysunshine

@petesrparker

@harryhollandsgirlfriend

@mcushvft

@elishi03

@nelebynele

@theglitterymess

@sunwardsss

(if your name is striked out I cannot tag you 😞)

#harry holland fluff #harry robert holland #harry holland #harry holland x y/n #harry holland imagine #harry holland angst

133 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Thick And Thin (one-shot)

Synopsis: He never thought his wife would ever even think about divorce. They had problems, which is why they were at marriage counselling. But he never knew her heart had broken a long time ago. And he’d been the one to break it before they even got together.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: aaaaaaannnnggggssssttt baby, just wanted to write something that’d rip your heart out :)

Warnings: swearing, pain, kinda depressive (??), can’t think of anything else really, but please let me know if there is, also not my best work lol :D

Word count: 7102 (let’s start off the New Year with loads of pain :) )

Italics are flashbacks

“I want a divorce.”

Never in Harry’s life did he think he’d have to hear those words. Not after everything they’d been through, not after all of the effort he’d been putting in to save their relationship.

Those words had not only stunned him but their marriage councillor, the woman’s mouth open mid-word, as she tried to comprehend what was happening. Harry was fairing even worse. It was like his brain was short-circuiting, synapses broken and no longer sending any signals.

“Mrs Styles, I know it’s difficult,” the therapist tried to diffuse the situation. “But the reason you’re here is to avoid this specifically.”

“I don’t remember how you smell anymore,” Y/N continued not listening to the woman, voice like a black void, but her Y/E/C eyes rimmed with tears. “Or taste. I don’t remember how it feels to have you pressed up against me or what it’s like to hear your voice. I… I don’t have anything to cling onto anymore.”

“It’s why we're here!” he cried through clenched teeth, slipping on his knees before her, hands grasping Y/N’s in a vice-like grip. “It’s why we’re trying.”

The laugh she let out was detached and without any love. “We tried it your way, Harry.” She’d never called him Harry before. It was always Lover. “And it’s not working for me. It hasn’t from the start. We’re… we’re so unhappy. And I don’t want that for you or for me. We deserve happiness. But I don’t think we can give that to one another anymore.” She took in a shaky breath, looking down at Harry’s hands in her lap. “When I thought of it, at first I felt horrible. I wanted to throw myself off somewhere, but the more I sat on that thought, the more relieved I felt.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, didn’t want to believe it. “Relieved?” The word felt like acid in his mouth.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Relieved. Because this choice won’t make us hurt one another anymore. This gives us a chance to have a fresh start.”

“I don’t want a fresh start! We said – we said through thick and thin.” He was grasping onto the last straw he could find. “This is the thin, but we’ll get through it.”

“Harry, I already broke through the thin. And now I’m drowning. And when the thick comes, I’ll either be frozen under it and watch you walk further, or I’ll surface somewhere, and I don’t know on which side of the shore I’m gonna be on and where you’ll be. And if you try to get me, you’ll start drowning too. I don’t want that.”

“But that’s what marriage is! Going through the tough shit together!”

“Harry… I already asked Lionel to draw up the papers. The first draft is done.”

His blood froze in his veins.

“When you said to sit down and write one thing that makes me happy about the relationship,” Y/N was looking at the therapist now, “about the person, I – I couldn’t. Because I kept thinking back to the start, to the beginning. That’s what made me happy. But now…” She glanced at Harry. “If there was one thing, I couldn’t do to you, not in a moment like this, is lie. I just… I don’t remember how to be happy with you.”

***

They’d started out as the cliché of best-friends-lose-contact-only-to-be-reunited-and-not-let-their-chance-pass-by-and-fall-in-love. She was ten when she’d moved in next door to him and he was twelve when he’d seen the three vans full up to the house, a little girl hopping out from one of them. Harry watched as she rushed up the doorstep and put in a key, unlocking it and a new chapter of her life with it. Little did he know she’d unlocked a new chapter of his life as well.

She was the new kid at school, and despite the fact that he was a year above, he sat down next to her at lunch.

“ ’M ‘arry,” he said through a mouthful of a sandwich. “Saw you move in yesterday.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

And that was the start of a blooming friendship.

On her eleventh birthday, he gave her a handmade bracelet. She gave him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, making Harry blush all shades of pink and red.

He was thirteen when he had his first real kiss on his birthday. Y/N had simply tried to peck him on the cheek, but he’d turned his head, and her mouth had ended up on his. She’d walked away with a shy smile and ears on fire.

She was thirteen when a boy first asked her out. Harry was the first person she told him about it. That was the first time his heart broke.

When he was fifteen, he got his first girlfriend. Y/N was fourteen when her heart broke for the first time.

And then he'd gone on X-factor and with that forgotten about her. She called him, texted him, messaged him on social media, but usually, she’d maybe get only one picture or a small ‘miss you too’ as a response. So, after a whole year apart, she gave up. What was the point of trying to save anything when he didn’t want to?

He moved on and became an international superstar. Y/N moved on and graduated top of her class, got into her first-choice university, and graduated with a first as well. He had some relationships here and there, while Y/N had had a steady relationship since the second year of uni, but when she decided to go to a different one for her masters they amicably broke up.

Eight years later she was sitting at a café in London, laughing with her ex-boyfriend and catching up, as he explained how what Criminal Minds showed wasn’t really what was taught in his criminology degree classes.

“I’m still saying I dated real-life Spencer Reid,” Y/N chuckled, sipping on her gingerbread latte. “Don’t give a shit, I need something to flex with.”

Harry had then walked inside the café, shaking off the snow from his boots when a familiar laugh he hadn’t heard in ages invaded his senses. It was almost like he’d stepped into a dream.

When his green eyes befell on the owner of the voice, he had to take a double-take. Somehow in his brain, he’d expected the fifteen-year-old teenager, a t-shirt of his face on her body, as she’d cheered him on when he’d gone onto his first concert as part of One Direction to be sitting in the chair, not the grown-up woman.

He’d still checked in with Y/N through what she posted on her social media, but as much as he’d promised not to have the celebrity life sweep him away, it had. Harry sometimes had two concerts a day, and he barely had a moment to take a bite of food. And he hated to admit it, but Y/N simply slipped from his life. And he didn’t bother to put in the effort to pull her back.

A huge wave of guilt and longing rushed through his body as he glanced at the woman, her face lit up by joy as she and the man before her continued on with their conversation.

Someone tapped on his shoulder, making him turn around and face another customer. “You gonna order anything?”

For a moment Harry stuttered. He could walk away without inserting himself back into Y/N’s life, but he didn’t want that. He’d missed her. Harry didn’t even realise how much he’d missed her.

“You go ahead.” He motioned with his hand. “I’m still thinking.”

Harry took in a deep breath and then walked towards where the pair was sitting.

The man’s eyes flitted up to see who was towering over Y/N, only for them to widen, and his mouth hang open.

A sense of pride filled Harry's chest at the reaction and maybe quenched a little bit of the jealousy invading his body. He used to be the one who made Y/N laugh until she had to tell him to stop or she’d pee herself. He was back to take up the role.

“You okay there, Dan?” she chuckled. “Don’t tell me there’s a ghost behind my back. I told him not to walk out of the flat wit –“ Y/N had turned around and almost choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Harry! Oh – hi!” She jumped up hugging him, feeling how his body shook with laughter at her reaction, strong arms weaving around her middle. “Holy shit, it’s really you!”

“Yeah, ‘s me. Who else?”

“I didn’t know you were back in the UK.”

A warmth spread through his chest, as he reluctantly pulled away from the hug. “Been checking in on me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sitting back down, but pulling up a third chair for Harry to sit upon. “Dan’s a huge fan.” She motioned with her head to the man. “When we first started dating, I thought he was only doing it because we used to be friends, and he hoped I’d set you up or something.”

Harry masked the choke of envy by clearing his throat and letting out an awkward chuckle. “Hope I’m not interrupting a date or something.”

“A catch-up date, but not a date date.” Dan lifted his brows at Y/N, who gave him a ‘don’t start this’ look to which he threw up his hands in surrender. “I’m just making conversation.”

“You’re being annoying, that’s what you are.” Y/N flicked a crumb from the table towards him.

It was in that moment that it truly hit how much he’d missed, and it hit him hard he no longer knew the person who once was his best friend.

“You’re different,” Harry said, looking over at her trying to keep the lump in his throat from making his voice break.

Y/N shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I mean it has been almost a decade. I do hope I don’t look the same as I did then. Otherwise, the pain of braces was of no use.”

“No,” he chuckled shaking his head. “’S not that… It’s like you’re a different person.”

“I grew up,” she said, sipping on the last bits of her drink. “ ’M not the same fifteen-year-old you saw last.”

He nodded and bit his lip. But the thing was, Harry wasn’t the stupid sixteen-year-old that left the fifteen-year-old her either. This time, he wouldn’t let the chance at happiness pass him by when he could’ve had it all along.

***

He sat across from Y/N at the large marble table and watched, heart bleeding out in his chest as she put her signature on the papers, her attorney fishing out something from his briefcase and handing it to her under the table. He saw her shoulders shudder before she placed a maroon rectangle with a golden inscription on it in her own purse. Harry wanted to vomit. It was her new passport, where her surname no longer matched his, where he no longer existed, inscribed into the document as her spouse.

“Mr Styles?” Y/N’s lawyer pushed the papers his way, the pen laying atop them. “’S your turn.”

‘Your turn’, as if it was a game of spin the bottle or UNO.

“Don’t make me,” he choked out, pleading with Y/N one last time. “Please don’t make me do this. Don’t make me give up on us.”

Her words were worse than a knife to his soul. “You can’t give up on something that’s no longer there.”

When they’d been at the stage of negotiation, he’d kept pushing for giving her at least half of his income, to give her one of the houses they owned together, but she’d turned everything down.

“I didn’t marry you for your money, Harry.” He’d expected her voice to be full of venom, but it wasn’t. It was sad, resigned. “I don’t want what you’ve earned.”

“Let me give you at least something.”

“I don’t want anything from you. If it makes you feel any better, you can donate whatever amount you wanted to give me. I don’t care. All I want from this is for you to sign the papers.”

“And if I can’t?”

Y/N sighed, looking down at the table. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

That’s when her attorney had cleared his throat. “Mrs Sty – Y/L/N. Legally, according to the prenup, you are entitled to half of Mr Styles estate as well as twenty percent of all his earnings.”

But Y/N just shook her head. “I only signed those documents because that’s what he and his agent wanted. I never asked for it or anything or the sort. Donate it, for all I care. Buy a new house, Harry I literally don’t want to know what you do with your money.” Y/N took in a sharp breath and calmed herself down. It’d been the first time Harry had heard any sort of emotion from her since she'd spoken those horrible words. “I just want this over with.”

And now, he was at the moment of the end. He just never thought their story would end with broken hearts and ripped up futures.

His handwriting was barely legible at best of times, but right now it seemed as if a toddler had tried to forge it with how much his hand shook. When the pen dropped, so did his shoulders, and he saw Y/N’s drop as well.

Harry’s with weight from the love lost, Y/N’s with relief, for now their broken hearts wouldn’t hurt one another no longer.

His lawyer handed him over a new passport as well, where Y/N was no longer written as his spouse. The urge to rip it to shreds was almost uncontainable. He hated it more than the divorce papers.

***

They’d been dating for a little over two years when he decided to propose, only every plan he had was miserably ruined by some outside force.

The first time he’d decided he’d do it at a romantic dinner. Harry had found out Y/N wasn’t a fan of huge romantic gestures, so he wouldn’t get on one knee and draw everyone’s attention. He’d simply take her hand in his, kiss her fingers and ask.

But as they’d sat at the table enjoying their meal and talking, he noticed Y/N become quieter and quieter. A frown morphed on his face.

“You alright, Lovie?”

“Umm,” Y/N’s brow creased even more, and she dropped her fork. “I umm I don’t know. ‘M feeling kind of funky?”

“What’dya mean?”

“I – “ Y/N opened her mouth but didn’t manage to get anything else out as she jumped up and rushed towards the ladies room.

Harry quickly dropped his own utensils and rushed after her, not bothering with the yells of the woman who was looking at herself in the mirror, while his girlfriend threw up her guts inside one of the toilets.

A member of the staff had run to see what all the commotion was about, but when he saw Y/N half inside a stall, half outside, Harry’s hands keeping her hair away from her face, he went back out and immediately grabbed the first aid kit they had in the kitchen, handing it to Harry along with a cold wet towel.

Y/N shuddered, leaning against the stall wall sweat glistening on her face, as he pressed the damp cloth against her skin. She gave him half a smile. “Told you not to get the shrimp.”

“I’ll get the cab, Lovie.” He smoothed away the once meticulously styled hair, which was now stuck to her damp skin.

But she shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to puke again.”

In the end, she threw up two more times, her stomach really not agreeing with the entrée. The waiters kept apologising the whole time, and the chef had stopped cooking, the restaurant immediately taking action and refunding everyone who’d ordered anything with shrimps in them.

When they’d gotten back home, Y/N was so tired and felt so sick, Harry could only help her get out of the dress, clean her up with a warm towel and wrap her up in her favourite pyjamas before curling up together on his bed and falling asleep, making sure if there was a moment, she felt nauseous again, he was by her side. She needed his help more than he needed to propose.

***

He threw himself into his work like a madman. Day and night, he was either at a studio, on a filming lot, in between meetings or interviews. The media buzzed about how his marriage had fallen apart, even though Y/N hadn’t made a statement or spoken a word to anyone, and neither had Harry. But he guessed the emptiness of his ring finger gave everything away.

He refused, however, to speak on it. As painful as it was, he was still in love with Y/N. She hadn’t chosen to be in the spotlight, it was Harry’s world, not hers, so he respected her decision to be quiet and remained so himself, save for one single post his management had asked for him to put up. It'd also been the last time he'd spoken to her.

All he received was a simple text message 'do what you have to do'.

A couple of months down the line though, something came up, and Harry couldn’t keep his tongue behind his teeth.

It was an article in The Sun, a photograph of Y/N plastered all over the front page with the words ‘Gold-digger Y/L/N finally seen out after divorce with Harry Styles.” He’d snatched the paper right off the stand and flipped it open, frantic green eyes scanning the words.

‘Despite it only being two months since the two childhood ex-best friends broke up, Y/N Y/L/N was already seen in the company of a man, sharing a drink, and giving one another flirtatious smiles. An inside source tells us, how she hadn’t even been that upset about the divorce and has been going out and having fun with many male companions, one of them being her ex-boyfriend from university times.’

‘Harry Styles, known for his time in the pop boyband One Direction and for his solo endeavours in music as well as dabbling in acting, broke everyone’s belief in true love after being seen in public without a ring. This prompted an announcement that the four-year relationship and two-year marriage to who was once his best friend had ended and the two had decided to get a divorce. Although the post showed a picture of their silhouettes holding one another with their foreheads together, and his statement showed nothing but love and respect for his then-wife, sources say Y/N had been controlling and obsessive over her then-husband and hadn’t wanted him to leave to pursue his career, stifling his growth.’

He didn’t bother to read any further, as he pulled out his phone, calling Jeff immediately to figure out how to make all of it go away, how to do at least one thing right.

“They’re dragging her name through the mud!” he sneered, not even caring he was bumping shoulders with people, and if the paparazzi would dare spin a story of the state he was in at that moment, he’d sue each and every one of them personally. “I have to do something. Fuck, Jeff, I love her! I can’t let them paint her like this. Y/N – “ he choked back a lump. “She never asked for this. Didn’t ask for anything. And that man – that was Dan, okay. I know him. Yes, he’s her ex, but they don’t know anything!”

“Harry I’ve sent them cease-and-desist letters already.” Jeff tried to ease him. “But… she’s no longer your concern Har.”

The words hit him like a bullet and ripped a hole in his chest just like one of them would. “You might still love her,” Jeff’s voice was solemn. “But Y/N is no longer yours to protect.”

“I can’t just let them talk shit about her,” Harry whispered back.

His friend sighed on the other side of the line. “I know. Which is why we’ll deal with it. But you have to start letting her go.”

***

The second time Harry wanted to propose was about a month later, and Christmas was right around the corner. They’d decided that Christmas Eve would be spent with his sister, her boyfriend and Anne, while Christmas Day they’d go to Y/N’s side of the family.

Although they’d settled on one gift each, Harry had been carrying around that small box for what felt like an eternity. And it wouldn’t really be a gift, given how he’d wrap it and hang it in the tree.

“It’s an ornament,” he’d say to her, a smug smile on his lips, as Y/N would roll her eyes at him. “Just because it has your name on it, doesn’t mean it’s immediately a present.”

And then she’d open it, and would gasp, and Harry would slide down on his knee, press a kiss to her ring-free finger before asking that fateful question.

But just like before, his plan didn’t come to fruition.

He’d asked his mother to hang up the little box, so there was no chance of Y/N seeing it in his hands, but what he hadn’t thought of was Gemma’s boyfriend had decided on the exact same plan of action.

When Michal had dropped down on his knee, Harry’s sister’s trembling hand in his, he couldn’t do that to them. As much as he wanted to marry Y/N, he couldn’t take away Gemma’s moment. So while Y/N was preoccupied with looking at the gleaming diamond on Gemma’s finger, Harry plucked down the box from where it’d hung and placed it on the side no one could see, before he could put it in his bag.

“ ’M sorry, honey,” Anne had said to him over coffee the next morning. “I didn’t know Michal would do that.”

He’d just shaken his head, no hurt in his heart. “Great minds think alike. Our moment will come. ‘M happy for Gem. Besides, if he hadn’t done that anytime soon, I would’ve needed to have a stern talking.”

***

What his sister said to him made him think he had to be living in a simulation, because it couldn’t be true. Y/N couldn’t be getting married. Not this soon. Not ever. Not to someone who wasn’t him. It had been barely a year since he’d signed the death sentence to his own happiness.

Harry shook his head. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying, Gem.”

“I’m not.” Her voice broke as she said it. “I saw her at a café. Saw the ring… the man who gave it to her. Harry, I’m so sorry.”

His mind reeled with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to. Was that why she’d really divorced him? Had she been cheating on him and just needed an excuse out of their relationship to jump into the new one? He was away so much on their relationship, he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone else had swooped in and tried to win her heart.

Harry’s mind was one of the greatest things he’d been blessed him, but also one of the worst curses bestowed upon him, as it weaved a story of Y/N and the man who’d now put a gleaming ring on her finger.

He was away, like always, doing something he could do another time. She was on her own, keeping their bed warm with just her body, fighting for their relationship on her own, while he made plans once more to go to a different part of the world and leave her behind again.

Y/N pulled herself out of the bed, sighing and rubbing her face. She opened their closet only to be greeted with Harry’s half empty. Maybe that was the moment she decided to find someone who’d fill it and wouldn’t leave it permanently empty, Harry conjured up.

She’d dress in a soft jumper and some jeans, a large cardigan hanging over her body and would go to a café for her morning drink. And that’s where she’d meet him. The stranger that would take her out of the lonely life she’d been living. The stranger that would make a smile bloom on her face and her heart stutter once more. The stranger who would show her the love Y/N deserved to have.

Harry had to shake his head to get rid of the thoughts before they ventured into a worse territory.

No. Y/N wasn’t like that. No matter what, she would never cheat on him. She had enough dignity for herself and respect for him, even though in his own mind, Harry didn’t think he deserved it.

Although he didn’t have a right to, nor was it the sanest move (and if someone saw him doing it, there would probably be a slew of articles), Harry got into his car and drove to where Y/N’s apartment was, and when she opened the door after hearing seven loud knocks, he stepped inside without even waiting for her to invite him.

“You’re getting married?”

She crossed her arms. “It’s none of your concern.”

“It’s been barely a year! I refuse to believe you’ve moved on so fast.”

Maybe he was kidding himself, and Y/N truly had, but as much as their marriage had fallen apart, he did have the honour of having known her and having figured some things out deeper than others would.

Y//N scoffed. “I was proposed to. And I said yes.” The words were like venom entering his veins. “If I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t have agreed to it. And as I already said – it is none of your concern.”

Harry stood there, watching as she dragged a hand down her face, eyes flitting everywhere he wasn’t. It told him everything he needed to know.

“You’re not happy,” he whispered stepping forward and reaching for her hand. “I know how you shine when you’re truly happy. This isn’t it. Why are you doing this?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Harry was so confused, at a complete loss at what Y/N was saying. “So, you’ll what? Get married to him and be miserable? Why the hell did you divorce me then?”

Y/N sighed. “Being unhappy with him isn’t as unbearable as being unhappy with you. Because with you, I know what it feels like to truly fully loved. Which is why it broke me when you stopped.”

“I never stopped!” Harry whisper yelled, anger coursing through his veins at her words, because they were lies. “Why do you think I dragged us to marriage counselling? Why do you think I kept fighting for us? For you?! You were the one that gave up!”

“You weren’t there when I needed you.”

Harry blinked rapidly, not understanding what she meant.

“You left me for ten years. You forgot all about me until that day at the café. Not once did you message me or call me or even send fucking snail mail. I was the one putting in all the effort, I was the one who was trying to keep you in my life, but you didn’t want it. Just like it was when we were married.”

Rage bubbled under the surface, but he kept it at bay. That was not how he’d get Y/N back. “How?” he asked calmly. “How did I not want it?”

She scoffed shaking her head. “It was the same as it was ten years ago. With the movie, the new album... You were always at the studio or hanging out with your castmates. When I asked for you to free up one night, one single night, you didn’t come back until three AM, drunk off your ass, and I had to take care of you. I asked for one night. And you didn’t even give me that. So forgive me for not feeling like you still loved me.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me then?!”

“I did!” This was the first time he’d ever heard Y/N yell, before kneading her lips tightly together and then continuing more quietly. “But you never heard me. Not really. You heard what I asked, and promised to be there, but when the time came… something more important always came up. Something that always deserved to have the promise you gave me to be broken.” Y/N gave him a sad smile. “Do you remember when you first asked me out? And I said no?”

Harry nodded. “You said that we just got one another back and didn’t want to have anything rip us apart again. Didn’t even want to chance it.”

“And you said it was exactly why I should give us a chance. That we’d finally found one another again and shouldn’t let the opportunity go…” She tilted her head. “Guess we should’ve listened to me. I included.”

He couldn’t believe her. “Is that really your takeaway here? You were right?”

“But I was.” Y/N shrugged. “Look at where we are now. You forgot me for basically ten years.” She shrugged, stepping away. “Give it some time, and you’ll forget me for the rest of your life. Besides, we’ve not known one another longer than we have. So, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Why did you then? Go out with me?” Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “Get married to me?”

For a moment Y/N just looked at him, Y/E/C eyes boring into his green ones. “Because I’d once again convinced myself I was important to you, just like I did when we were teens. And in my head, I had dreamt up that maybe I’d be important enough for you not to forget me.”

***

The third time did the charm though.

They were both sleepy, under the covers of Harry’s bed, eyes barely keeping open as they were determined to finish Elf.

Y/N had her cheek pressed against his chest, bare body next to his naked one. She hated sleeping in pyjamas (unless they were staying over at one of their parent’s places,) because she said it made her feel like the clothes were suffocating her. Harry didn’t like sleeping with pyjamas because all he wanted was to fully feel the skin of his lover next to his.

Snow fell behind the large windows of his London penthouse apartment, covering the city in a white blanket. It rarely snowed there, so he watched with warmth in his heart as the flakes fluttered to the ground.

It was all so calm, so serene, that Harry realised that’d been the moment he’d been waiting for. No need for fancy dinners or present it as a loud gift. Being together was a gift enough.

“Lovie?” he asked, nose hidden in her hair. “You awake?”

All he received in answer was a small hum. She was on the verge of passing out, but this was the moment, so, he whispered the question, voice so low as if he was asking the dark to marry him not Y/N.

He couldn’t look at her, afraid of what she might say, afraid she might say no, think back to the times he wasn’t there for her, think of all the reasons why he wasn’t good enough for her, and would only bring her sorrow.

“Lover.” Her voice was as soft as a summer’s morning. “Look at me. Please.”

It was one of the most frightening things in his life, as he did so.

Y/E/C eyes met green. What he saw on her face allowed his heart to calm down a little.

“Is the Sun the closest star to us?”

That he hadn’t expected. “What?”

“Does it rise in the East and set in the West?”

“Y-yes?”

Her hand cupped his cheek, and he melted against her. “Then why are you asking me a question you know the answer will be the same as to those?”

“Can I put the ring on your finger then?” He was more excited than about anything in his life.

Y/N shook her head, bringing his lips to brush against hers. “Don’t need a ring. Just need you to kiss me.”

***

The wedding was far away from the city so that no one from the press could even think about following her or her entourage. The guest list was small, compared to the three hundred people Harry’s and her wedding had had.

Anne had told him not to go. He wasn’t invited, and neither was she or Gemma, for obvious reasons. As much as Y/N loved them, she knew it’d hurt the two women, but it would hurt Harry more. So seeing her stepping out of the car, dressed in a cream wedding gown, a veil covering her face, made flashbacks appear behind Harry’s eyelids.

She’d worn an off-white gown before as well, dusty rose to be exact. And Harry’s bow tie had matched it. Y/N had never liked the thought of wearing white at her wedding.

“Listen, if it’s white, I’ll most definitely spill something on it,” she’d told him as both of them had been flipping through some wedding magazines. “You know me. But if it’s some other colour, there’s a bigger chance no one will notice when that happens.”

It didn’t seem right to him. It was like a bad fever-dream like he’d had that one time, and Y/N had had to listen to him babble about the hallucinations dancing in front of him because of the high temperature.

Her gaze remained on the ground, or maybe on the bucket of white roses in her hands. She hated white roses.

A woman in a pale blue dress straightened out the back of Y/N’s dress and the train of it, and he watched as her mother came to stand beside her daughter, giving her an elbow to grasp onto.

All he wanted was for Y/N to be happy, and it hurt to think it wasn’t with him because Harry believed it was supposed to be him.

He took in a shaky breath and got out of the car just as Y/N had walked up the steps and disappeared behind the double doors.

It was going to be him.

***

Harry knew he wasn’t the best husband in the world. He was away for a lot of time, and as conceited of an excuse it was, his job did entail going out to parties, mingling with other people living the high life, and being seen with certain celebs.

Y/N was never one for it. She always supported Harry, but she didn’t like going out and spending time with people who didn’t care for her existence. Well, maybe they did, but only in a sense that she’d been the lucky bitch who’d snagged up the Harry Styles.

But if there was something Harry did was love, and he loved wholeheartedly, which is why it absolutely destroyed him when he’d gotten back home one evening and heard Y/N crying in their bathroom.

She’d never tell him, but it was because no longer did his pillow smell like him. Harry had been away for so long, that the essence of him that’d soaked into their sheets was no longer there. And it broke her to pieces.

When he’d get home, he’d be so tired, he’d crash on the couch, only tiptoeing his way into their shared room to go to his closet and get some clean clothes in the morning. He’d look over at his sleeping wife and allow a blissful smile to bloom on his face at the sight.

He was so lucky to have Y/N back in his life. He was so lucky she’d accepted him and fallen for him as he’d fallen for her. He’d silently move over and press a kiss to her temple, before going back down and off to work once more. Only he wouldn’t see the dried tears on her cheeks.

So, when he’d found her curled up in the tub, hands in her hair, face hidden by her knees, frame trembling like leaves in a storm, he instantly dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain shooting through his bones, as he pulled Y/N into him.

“I can’t, Harry,” she choked out, shaking her head. He knew it was bad. She never called him by his name. “I can’t do this. I’m so alone. Even when you’re here, I’m alone.”

Harry had had his heart broken before, and always he wondered afterwards if someone took it out of his chest at that moment, what kind of a sound would it make. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it’d be as silent as the tears running down his face at Y/N’s confession.

“Maybe,” he swallowed harshly trying to keep his whole body from shaking, from showing the fear her statement instilled in him. “Maybe we need couple’s therapy.”

“What?” her eyebrows had shot up to the middle of the forehead.

“Y/N, we’re clearly having problems. I – I know I need to work on things, but you’re also not telling me how you’re feeling. Maybe we just need some help.”

She didn’t really know what to respond. In her mind, Y/N had somehow conjured up an image that if she ever got married, they’d be happy. Sure, they’d fight and have rows, but they’d always be able to work things out on their own. Not once in her life, did she ever think she’d need to go and see a marriage counsellor to help her save her marriage.

Her own parents much like Harry’s had gotten divorced. Hers had tried therapy. It’d been their last resort. It didn't work. So, when he’d mentioned it to her, that’s what made her decide it was truly over.

Y/N nodded, bringing him in for a hug, and felt his body melt into hers with relief.

She’d try, for Harry, but her mind was already made up.

***

So he stood outside the doors, listening for the line of ‘if there is anyone who opposes this union speak up now, or forever hold your peace’. His hand grasped the handle, ready to push, but… he couldn’t. He’d ruined her happy ever after once before. He couldn’t do that again to her.

Tears streamed down his face as he pocketed his hands and ventured away from the ceremony. The ceremony where the love of his life was promising to cherish someone else, to fight through thick and thin with someone else, to make someone else happy, while her own happiness suffered.

Harry sat in his car, waiting for her to exit, a smile on her face as she’d hold the hand of who now was her husband. That'd be the moment he'd let go of her. But when the doors sprung open, she was alone, hands clutching onto the front of her dress, as she rushed down the steps and back inside the car she’d arrived in.

For a second he sat in his vehicle, stunned beyond belief at what had happened, at what, as horrible as it sounded, he hoped had happened. When a man, hand in his hair ran outside as well, the same woman in the pale blue dress rushing out with him, Harry knew.

He was basically a madman on the road, breaking almost every possible law as he tried to catch up to the car Y/N had jumped in.

His mind raced with the possibilities of where she could’ve gone. The airport, her family’s summer house in Winchester, honestly anywhere in the world, but Harry shut up his mind, and allowed his heart to make the decision.

It didn’t seem like Y/N had premeditated fleeing from her wedding, which meant she’d need her stuff. And that meant going to her apartment as quickly as possible before someone came to look for her.

The way he parked was probably illegal leaving the car basically in the middle of the road, but Harry didn’t care much as he frantically rushed up the steps of her apartment complex. He was scared that if he knocked, she wouldn’t open, thinking it might be someone from the wedding, but he didn’t need to be afraid of it, as he saw Y/N, her hair still styled as it had been for the ceremony, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a suitcase in hand exiting from the flat.

“Why didn’t you do it?” he breathlessly asked, startling her and making her drop the keys.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? What are you doing here?”

Harry stepped closer, hand cupping her cheek, insides trembling from all of the emotions coursing through his body. “Why didn’t you do it? Marry him? Why didn’t you say yes?”

“I – “ Y/N choked on her words. “I couldn’t say yes. It didn’t feel right.”

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t you, I was saying yes to.”

That was all Harry needed to kiss her like he'd done once before. And this time, he wasn’t going to let her go. He’d made that mistake twice. He would never repeat it again.

“I love you,” he cried through a laugh. “I love you. I love you. I love you. And I’m never letting you slip through my fingers ever again.”

“How can you even think about loving me again after what I did to us?” she asked, pulling away from his lips.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re talking like I ever stopped. Through thick and thin. It’s what we promised. Think and thin, my Lovie."

***

A sixteen-year-old Harry and a fifteen-year-old Y/N laid outside in the grass of Harry’s garden; eyes trained onto the dark night starlit sky above. It was the day before his life changed forever as did hers.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Harry asked, trying to catch a glimpse of a shooting star.

Y/N scrunched up her nose. “No. I don’t think I do. And I don’t think I want one.”

“Why not?”

“What if they’re old and in their thirties? Or dead?”

Harry snorted at her response.

“And you?” Y/N turned her head to look at him. “Do you believe in soulmates?

He bit his lip and nodded. “I think I do. I think it’s two people who’ve been brought together, and no matter what happens will find their way to one another. Through thick and thin.”

"And what if one of them breaks the other's heart?"

"That's the thin." He looked at her. "And you don't give up then. It's when you need to love them even more."

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: Happy 2021 everyone! Hopefully things are better this year, and everyone stays safe and sound.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my fics on other platforms without specific written permission. Reblogs are a okay :)

919 notes · View notes

cowboy-like-mee · 3 years

Text

please, just say it

summary: harry fucked up and you’ve had enough

warnings: little bit of smut at the beginning, lots of angst

word count: 2k

a/n: hi! hopefully this isn’t awful lmao. i had fun writing this. sorry it took a bit for me to finish. i kinda hate the end but it’s fine. please reblog if you like!!! and leave me feedback or requests here!!!

and consider buying me a coffee here <3

masterlist

"Fuck, Y/N! Just like that, baby." Harry moans out as you bounce up and down on his cock. Your legs were burning and you honestly weren't that close, You just weren't as into it tonight as you normally are with him. You can tell he was enjoying himself though- his head was thrown back on the pillow behind him and his mouth was open in pleasure. His hands are lazily rested on your ass, not helping you move on and off him at all.

"Shit, a-are you close?" He speaks out to you, pulling you out of your trance. You think for a second, not knowing if you wanted to lie just to get this done with or if you wanted to make him work to get you off.

"Not really." You shrug, continuing to grind yourself onto his cock, feeling the coarse hairs around the base of his cock digging into your clit.

Not expecting that answer, his head snaps up to you as he tries to bite back his moans.

"Shit, I'm sorry. What do you need me to do?"

"Um, can you get on top? And rub my clit?" You say shyly, despite the number of times you have done this together.

He flips you both over in one swift movement and begins railing into you, hitting the spot inside of you consistently. His hand reaches right above where you're connected and rubs tight circles into your clit. You can feel a small orgasm building up quickly.

"Is that better, baby?" He says into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine because of the huskiness in his voice. You nod and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to force your release.

"Come with me, Y/N." Harry groans out, his hips stuttering. You feel a small bubble release in your belly, spreading warmly throughout your lower body. He pulls out as soon as he's done releasing inside of you. He plops down on the bed next to you, his arm resting on his abdomen as he catches his breath. You turn over onto your side and curl up under the covers, feeling extremely vulnerable and small.

Your throat burns, tears stinging your eyes. You sniffle quietly to yourself, hoping Harry can't hear you. You can't believe you've let yourself get to this point. You're disgusted with yourself. Silent tears spill down your cheeks. You swallow down the sobs bubbling in your throat. You wish you could disappear right now.

The bed dips next to you, signaling Harry's departure. You're quick to wipe the tears off your face. Harry pulls his clothes on quickly. "I'm gonna head out," he says. When you don't reply he gently shakes your body. "C'mon, I know you're awake." You're frozen. This could be the moment when you finally let him in.

"Alright, whatever. I'll text you when I need you-" He says, but quickly cuts himself off when he sees you roll over to face him with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "What's wrong?" He furrows his eyebrows at you as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

You sit up and pull your legs into your chest. "H... can we talk?" You speak lowly. He sighs, almost sounding annoyed. Even though you've known each other for a few years, you don't think you've spent over two hours together in one day in a year. This is pushing the imaginary time limit he set for you two. You know Harry, and you know he likes to fuck you and leave, or fuck you and send you on your way if it was at his place.

"Sure." He shrugs. "What's up?"

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself for the words you're about to spill out of your mouth. "I don't think I can do this with you anymore." You spit out so quickly it's almost inaudible. He immediately reels back in shock.

"W-what? Why? Is it something I did? Are you not satisfied? I-I know I can do better. I mean sometimes I don't always try. Have you been faking it? I promise I'll do better-" He rambles on and on and you just sit there in silence as he worries more about his ego than the way tears are welling up in your eyes. You clench your jaw at him.

"Harry!" You yell at him. "Listen to me!" He slowly nods his head. "I...I just-" You sigh, trying to think of the right thing to say. "I just haven't been that into it lately and... I just have a lot of stuff going on in my life right now." Tears spill down your cheek as you speak.

"I can help you-" He tries to intervene.

"No, Harry. You don't understand. It's nothing you can fix. I just need to be left alone. I've had a lot of fun with you, but I think it's best for both of us right now."

"But how? How is it better for me? I need you." He tries to reach for you, but you flinch back.

"You don't need me." You mumble under your breath, hoping he didn't hear you.

"What?" He says, cluing you in on the fact he just heard you say that.

"You don't need me, Harry! You need my fucking pussy!"

"What the fuck does that mean, Y/N?" He says while clenching his jaw.

"Apparently, I'm only good enough for a quick fuck, Harry." You say mocking the tone he just used on you.

"Well, that's all we agreed to, is it not?" He raises his eyebrow at you.

"We agreed to hook up with no feelings! Not using me for your own pleasure every god damn day! You never even greet me or ask how I'm doing! You just push me up against the nearest wall and kiss me! What if I didn't even invite you over for sex and you kissed me without asking, huh?"

"Well, fuck, Y/N, I didn't realize I was supposed to be your therapist before I fuck you! And you ever invite me over for anything other than sex anyway!" He screams out.

"God, you're such a fucking asshole! I'm not saying that! We used to be best friends and now I can't even remember the last real conversation we've had. And I never explicitly say I want you to come over for sex! I just ask for you to come over and you assume that every time. Maybe I just want to hang out with my old best friend!" You scream out.

His jaw drops in shock and he's quick to defend himself. "You can't put this all on me! It's on both of us, Y/N! You could have tried talking to me too, and if you want to hang out without fucking you should have said something."

"I have tried! You never fucking listen to me, Harry! Everything I have said to you in the past year has gone in one ear and out the other." You scream.

He stares at you in silence, not knowing what to say. He knew he hasn't been the best to you the past year, but he didn't realize it was this bad.

"You fuck me and then leave two minutes after we're done, or should I say when you're done! You can't even look me in the eye when your dick is inside of me. What did I do wrong, Harry? I just miss how we used to be. I want to go out to eat with you again and have movie nights and paint each other's nails. I just want us to be how we used to be! Before we even began hooking up. You never stay over for longer than two hours. It's like your not physically capable of it. Am I that terrible of a person you can't even stand to be around me anymore? You used to be my best friend and now I don't even know if I can qualify as a friend." You say choking back your sobs.

He tugs on his hair and sighs. "Fuck." He says to himself. "I never thought it would get to this point, Y/N."

You roll your eyes. "What does that mean?"

"How do you expect me to have sex with you multiple times a week while continuing being your best friend without catching feelings for you!"

"What's so bad about having feelings for me, huh?" You say looking him in the eye with the most heartbreaking look on your face.

"Nothing is bad about that, I just don't need a relationship right now." He explains.

"You're the one that initiated the first kiss between us, Harry. You knew I had just gotten out of a relationship. You knew how sad I was. You took advantage of me."

You stare at him hoping he would say something. You stared at him hoping he would admit that he kissed you that night because he liked you as much as you liked him and not because he felt bad for you. You hoped he would own up to everything he's done to you, apologize, and confess his love for you, or else you might as well just pass away right there

When he said nothing, you continued, "And just because you have feelings for me doesn't mean we have to be in a relationship. I don't understand. You've made me feel like shit just because you don't have time for a relationship right now? Have you ever noticed that you've been doing this or are you just as clueless as every other straight man on this planet?"

"Of course I didn't notice. I would never purposely make you feel that way! I'm not a complete dick."

"I just..." You trail off, unsure if you should tell him your next thought.

"What? Tell me, Y/N." He says

"I just wish you wanted me as much as I want you." You say sadly, letting your head fall into your hands.

"Y/N, I-I don't know what to say." He says sadly grabbing your hand in his larger one.

"Tell me you don’t want to leave. Say I’m enough to make you stay. I know it’s not true, but please just say it."

"I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, don't leave me. I-I will be better. I s-swear. You are enough. I'll stay. I miss how we used to be too. We can go back to how we once were. I swear. " He sniffles, tears welling up in his eye.

"Harry..." You whisper.

"Y/N..." He whispers back.

"I need you to leave." You say as strongly as you can manage.

"W-what? But, I thought y-you..you just said" He stumbles over his words, letting several tears slide down his cheeks. He stands up and looks at you.

"Please, Harry. I can't do this anymore. I need to move on. I've been waiting for over a year for you. You had your chance. You broke my heart." You shake your head as you speak, trying to hold yourself together.

When he stares at you saying nothing with silent tears streaming down his red cheeks, you continue.

"And you wanna know what the worst part of this is?" You choke out a fake laugh through your hot tears. "You're the one I would usually run to after something like this, but you're the one that did this to me."

You stand up out of bed pulling your t-shirt back over your head along with a random pair of sweats on the ground, not bothering with panties. You quickly make your way to leave your house, before turning around at your bedroom door. You turn around to look back at Harry, he's standing there looking at the spot on the bed where you just were. You shake your head and sigh loudly.

"And please be gone by the time I get back." You say and make your way out of the house, getting in your car and speeding off to clear your mind.

Fuck him.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles smut

294 notes · View notes

whyareyousittingathomeonthefloor · 4 years

Text

Baby You’ve Got Me Tied Down

it’s finally here bitches

sub!harry

it’s been a long ass time coming and i love you all for being patient with me

i also love @gohometoacactus, @havethetimeofyourstyles and @tobe-sogolden for encouraging me and being the most wonderful betas. i love you all so much

this is 10.5k words of pure smut and if you squint just a hint of fluff at the end

feedback is of course welcome and encouraged as are rb’s!

enjoy!

Harry was in for it. Majorly in for it. He’d been insufferable all day. Sending you dirty texts, pictures that left little to the imagination and videos of him rutting against the bed, the desperate whimpers you loved so much escaping from his lips. All of these had been throughout the span of your work day, so you let him have his fun. Because tonight. You’d be having yours.

You knew what he expected to come of this, he’d done it many times before. Torture you while you were at work and then when you came home, he’d devour you. But this time, you had something else in mind. You and Harry had a very active sex life. You guys kept things interesting, in fact just last night the two of you had ordered some special toys to try out. All of that being said, Harry was usually the one in charge. He called all the shots and you loved it. You loved how he made you so easily give up control, how easily he pulled noises you’d never heard yourself make from your mouth and how he gave your body feelings that could only be described as out of this world. Only on very rare occasions were you the one in charge. Very rarely did you get to see Harry squirm and writhe underneath you and very rarely did you pull whines and whimpers from his mouth that rivaled those of a pornstar’s. Tonight, you were hoping to do all that and more. By the end of the night, you wanted Harry completely and utterly fucked for you. And that’s exactly where he was going to be.

You stand from the chair in your office, shutting down your computer and waving goodbye to your coworkers who were obviously staying late. As you’re walking to your car, your phone dings. You glance down and see the notification is from Harry. You bite your lip as you feel your core start to ache, only adding to the wetness that consumes your underwear. You walk quickly to your car and as soon as you’re inside, you open the message and your thighs involuntarily clench.

It’s a video of your beautiful boyfriend stroking himself. You can tell he’s close by the way his hips buck into his hand as tugs at his shaft.

“ Missin’ you.” He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow. You see his hand start to move faster and you know it’s only a matter of seconds until he releases.

“ Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pants, looking down at his painfully hard cock. “ Ugh, I’m gonna cum.” He announces to no one but himself and within seconds of his words, you see thick, white ribbons spill from him. He emits a long, drawn out groan as his orgasm consumes him and you watch him as he lay breathless on the bed sheets. A few seconds later, he lifts his head to the camera and locks eyes with you through the screen.

“ Hurry home, baby.” He smirks and then the video ends. You lean your head against the head rest and take a deep breath to calm your raging hormones enough to make the fifteen minute drive back to you and Harry’s apartment. Once you’re calm enough, you type a response to your boyfriend who’s no doubt staring at his phone, waiting for a response that indicates how needy you are for him but he’s getting the exact opposite.

“ On my way.” You type and hit send before starting the car.

The car ride was excruciating, your thighs clenched every time you thought about the video you’d just seen and any other message you’d received throughout the day. You had half a mind to reach down and relieve yourself of just a little bit of the ache, but you were almost home so you kept your hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. It became almost impossibly difficult to ignore the ache between your thighs as Siri read aloud a text from Harry.

“ Be safe on the road, babe. Know you’re desperate to get home since I left you all in a bind this morning but that’s no reason to speed. I’ll be waiting (;.” The robotic voice reads and you roll your eyes because of the cocky tone he obviously meant his words to convey but you can’t help biting your lip because, yes. He had kept you waiting. Three times actually, ignoring every plea that fell from your mouth.

“ Harry please! So close, oh my god!” You cried, gasping as your boyfriend slammed into you relentlessly, his hand wrapped around your throat as he whispered filthy things to you.

“Yeah? You’re close angel?” He whispered hotly and you wrapped a hand around his wrist. nodding furiously. “ Can tell. Squeezing me so fucking tight. Dirty fucking slut.” He growled and you let out a noise you’d never heard yourself make. It was somewhere between a scream and whimper and it made you sound like a “desperate little whore” according to Harry. But that’s exactly what you were. He’d woken you up by licking into you and then had the audacity to edge you twice before this so of course you were desperate. You always needed to cum before work, it started your day off well and helped you not snap at the incompetent co workers you’d been cursed with. All of which Harry was aware of which is exactly why when your cry of “ gonna cum! gonna cum!” erupted from your lips, Harry ceased all of his movements.

“ No!” You sobbed, feeling your third orgasm slip away and he just smirked before fully pulling out of you.

“ Get dressed love, gonna be late.” He smiled and you flipped him off, wishing your legs had the ability to stand so you could slap the cheeky smile off of his face, but for now you’d settle for a mumble of “ asswipe” as you stood slowly from the bed because as much of a dick as he was, he was right. You were gonna be late.

Now, as you pulled into the apartment complex, you couldn’t possibly be rushing to him any faster. You climbed the stairs two at a time and fumbled with the key to unlock the door, finally finding it, you took a deep breath to compose yourself and opened the door. You weren’t the least bit surprised at the sight in front of you. Harry was sitting on the couch, legs spread wide and arms spread out across the back of the couch in the most taunting and arrogant way, clad only in boxers.

“ Welcome home, sweetheart.” He smirks and you smile back at him, dropping your bags to the hardwood floor and walking towards him. He follows your every move with hungry eyes and sits up when you’re standing right in front of his seated body. You lock eyes with him as you throw your legs to either side of his body, straddling him. He smiles as his hands move to rest on your waist.

“ Knew you were needy but this a whole new level.” He taunts and you just smile. You push his fluffy, chocolate brown curls back from his face and he gives a confused look, trying to figure out how you’re so calm despite everything he’s done and sent you today. You look down into his mossy, green eyes and then down to his pink lips, studying his face.

“ So beautiful, H.” You whisper and he smiles, reaching up and cupping your cheek.

“ You too, baby.” He coos and you smile, rubbing your nose against his before pressing your lips to his. You cup his face and both of his hands go to your waist, squeezing lightly.You smile into the kiss and deepen it, licking over his bottom lip. He immediately parts his lips and you both moan as your tongues dance together. He leans back against the couch, hugging you closer to his chest and you put both hands on the wall above his head to brace yourself as he moves. You’re the first one to pull away from the kiss, bringing your lips lower down. You kiss up and down his neck, sucking softly in some places and biting harshly in others, feeding his pain kink. He moans softly, tilting his head back against the couch and squeezing your hips. As you continue to suck and kiss at his neck, you feel his hands start trying to move your hips against what is, no doubt, his rapidly growing bulge.You smile as you finish the hickey on his neck, running your tongue over it to soothe the burning. You pull back from his neck and almost laugh at the confused look on his face.

“ What-.” He goes to ask but is interrupted by the way his jaw drops as you remove his hands from your waist and place them above his head. “ Y/N. What are you-?” He pants but you cut him off.

“ Upstairs.” You whisper, looking deep into his green eyes. He cocks his head to the side in confusion and he tries to pull his hands from your grasp but the evil glint in your eye warns him not to try that. He nods and you let go of his hands, climbing off of him to let him go where he needs to go. He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he makes his way up the stairs. You smile and turn to the bags you dropped when you walked in. You wanted to make him wait, make him squirm with anticipation of what was going to happen, because by now he knew he wasn’t going to be the one in charge this time and it made him excited but also slightly nervous. You took your sweet time putting everything where it needed to be and cleaning up just a little bit, he heard you downstairs and could tell you were teasing him. He huffed but knew he had no right to complain since he did it to you constantly. He’d tell you to go upstairs and then would clean the kitchen, maybe sweep a little bit, anything that made you wait long enough for your skin to crawl with nervousness and that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve with him now.

And it was working.

He sat on the edge of the bed, nervously rubbing his hands together and then running one through his hair. He had no idea what you had planned for him, but he knew it’d probably end with him in a fuzzy state. He was excited. Sure, he loved being in control, he loved wrapping his hand around your throat and telling you to moan for him and he loved pinning your hands above your head and fucking into you so hard it made you scream, but there was a part of him, a fairly large one that loved being controlled and he was so happy to have someone that shared his desires. He loved being completely at your mercy, he loved begging and he loved being in the state that only you could put him in. A state of complete and utter submission. He had so much stress to deal with and it was nice to be taken to a place where he physically could not think about those things and was solely focused on pleasing you. You guys didn’t do it often, but when you did he could only describe the things you made him feel as otherworldly, you pulled pleas out of his mouth like it was nothing, noises out of him that he’d never heard himself make before and he lived for it. He could already feel himself growing painfully hard, reminiscing the few times he’d been in this position before. And it was perfect timing, he looked up as he felt the room grow chillingly silent and saw you in the doorway. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs and locking eyes with you.

“Hi, baby.” He whispers to you, his green eyes having a sort of doe like look to them.

“ Hi, H.” You smile, but not your normal smile. More like a cunning one, one that tells him you have so much planned. He shivers and gives you a timid smile.

“ Lay back for me.” You tell him, walking into the room and he does so immediately, laying flat on his back. You smile and walk towards him, you kneel down beside his body and you can feel his body tense as you lightly scratch up and down his torso.

“ Relax, babe. It’s still me.” You remind him and he nods, swallowing thickly.

“ What are you gonna do?” He whispers, watching as you drag your hand farther down his body. He jerks as your hand just barely grazes over the tent straining against his boxers. You chuckle and kiss just under his ear, smiling at the way he shivers.

“ You’ll find out.” You whisper and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he gulps, but nods. You stand up from the floor and walk towards the closet. You make your way to the back of it, searching for the box of special toys you and Harry kept. You smile as you locate it, bending down to lift the top off. You rummage through the gags, plugs, blindfolds, and other toys to find what you’re looking for. Biting your lip, you take the toys in your hand and walk back to your boyfriend who has his eyes closed, breathing deeply. His eyes fly open when he feels your hand come up to caress the side of his face, pushing his curls out of his face. He looks up to see you smiling and he feels a shiver race through him at the look in your eyes. It’s the same look he gives you when he stands above your helpless, squirming body that’s usually restrained. Those nights always ended with you breathless and completely fucked for him. He knew that was where he’d be at the end of this, how he’d get there? Well, that was up to you.

His eyes left yours and moved to the side table as he saw you set the things from the closet down on it. His eyes widened and he felt his heart rate pick up speed as he took in what lay on the wooden table. Handcuffs, a vibrator and a cock ring. He looks back up at you and you smile. You lean down, pressing your lips to his and you can feel his body relax under your hand that rests on top of his butterfly. You slip your tongue through his parted lips and he moans, lifting his hand to cup your face but you quickly take it and press it back to his side, shaking your head slightly into the kiss.

“ No touching.” You whisper and he swallows again, nodding. “ Good boy.” You smile and he bites his lip, feeling his cock bloat at the rare praise. You smile and kiss him again before stepping back and beginning to strip. First is your blazer, you lock eyes with him as you begin to unbutton the piece of clothing on your body, after you've unbuttoned every button, you shrug it off your shoulders and you watch as his hungry eyes follow the thick fabric as it falls to the floor. Next, is your shirt, you lift the thin material over your head, tossing it to the side and smiling as Harry’s eyes follow it as it lands on the floor too. Lastly is your pants, you unbutton your jeans, keeping eye contact as you bend down to pull them off your legs. Once they’re at your ankles, you step out of them and kick them to the side, walking once again towards your touch starved boyfriend. You kneel on the bed, swinging one leg over his hips and then adjusting both at his sides so you’re straddling him comfortably, clad only in the lacy lavender set you’d slipped on this morning figuring Harry would pull a stunt like this.

“ Shit, baby.” He breathes as he eyes your body up and down and you feel your body heat at his hungry gaze. His hands immediately come up to grab at your waist and you’re quick to pull them off of you, placing them back at his sides and then gripping his jaw in your hands.

“ Can’t follow directions can you, baby?” You ask, his lips parted as his jaw is gripped tightly in your hand. “ Answer me.” You whisper as he stares blankly up at you and he shakes his head softly. You smile and push some curls from his face with your free hand.

“ No?” You taunt and he shakes his head, eyes blown out in pleasure.

“It’s a good thing that I have the perfect toy to fix that. Isn’t it, H?” You ask and he nods. You let go of his jaw and feel him start to pant under you as you reach over him, his hot breath hitting your breasts in short bursts as you grab the handcuffs from the side table.

“ Hands up.” You tell him, as you resume your position on his hips. He lifts his hands above his head, spreading them so each of his wrists rest on the edge of the either hooks you both had installed onto the bed frame when you discovered both parties enjoyed being restrained. You hook the cuffs through each hook and then around his wrists. He takes a deep breath and tugs on them, making sure they’re tight on his wrists, nodding as he realizes there’s no way he’s getting out of these without your help. The thought excites both him and you.

“ Remember your safe word?” You ask, running both of your hands up and down his torso and he nods. “ Don’t hesitate to use it if it gets too much for you.” You remind him and he nods again.

“ I won’t.” He assures you and you smile. You lean down, pressing your lips to his once again and his lips immediately mold to yours. He licks over your bottom lip and your lips part, granting him this last bit of control. He moves his tongue in slow strokes against yours and it already has you melting into him. You moan and reach up to tug at his hair, earning you a small whimper that you greedily swallow. You pull away, traveling your kisses further down. You press, fast, wet kisses to his neck, sucking lightly on the protruding vein and he groans, titling his head back to give you more access. Your kisses move down his torso and you look up at him as you flick your tongue over his nipples, remembering how he’d once told you that they were a very sensitive spot. He moans as you nip softly at them and then soothe the burn with your tongue, hips bucking up trying to get any contact from you. You smile, pulling away from the kisses you were pressing to his lower stomach, wrapping your hand around his throat and squeezing softly. His eyes widen and he whimpers softly.

“Thought you were gonna be a good boy for me, H?” You whisper, fake pouting and he groans. Your dominance and the hand around his throat sending arousal straight to his cock.

“ I will, I will.” He tells you in rushed pants. “ I’m sorry.”

“ Good.” You smile, releasing your grip on his neck. “ You’ll get what you want soon.” You tell him and he nods. You continue sponging kisses to his lower stomach, licking and sucking in some places, You revel in the way his body squirms helplessly under your touch, remembering a night not long ago where you found yourself in this exact position. Harry’s breathing starts to pick up as you press kisses along the waistband of his boxers. You pull back and smirk up at him as you completely ignore the bulge he’s sporting.

“ No.” He breathes, head tilting back in frustration but you ignore him, kissing and nibbling on his inner thighs, causing his legs to jerk. You give one last kiss to each thigh before running your hands up his thighs and hooking your fingers inside the waistband of his boxers. His eyes fly open and he lifts his head to look at you. His breathing deepens as you pull the boxers down his thick thighs. You two maintain eye contact even as you pull the boxers down to his ankles and then fully off. You climb back up to his body, straddling his hips again. He’s panting audibly now as he looks up at you, desperately awaiting your next move.

“ What do you want, H? Hm?” You ask, scratching lightly up his torso.

“ Anything. Please.” He begs, tugging on the cuffs. You smile and cup his cheek, he sighs at the gentle touch.

“ Desperate?” You ask and he nods with fervor.

“ Yes. Yes, Y/N please.” He pants, body squirming under you.

“ Okay, okay. Relax.” You tell him, running your thumb along his cheekbones. You swing one leg off of his body, the other following allowing you to kneel beside him on the bed. You take his rock hard cock in your hands and he lets out a long, drawn out moan, his body jerking at the slightest touch. You smile and bring your mouth to his tip, spitting directly on it and relishing in the whine that leaves his pink lips as you start stroking him.

“ Need you to tell me when you’re gonna cum okay?” You ask him and he nods, looking down at his cock in your hand.

“ Okay, okay I will.” He pants, hips starting to buck just slightly up into your hand.

“ Good boy.” You tell him again, watching his eyes roll back in his head. You apply more pressure to his cock, squeezing it tighter and he groans.

“ Fuck.” He breathes, biting his lip. He tugs just slightly on the cuffs, whining when they don’t budge. “ It’s good baby, it’s so good.” He groans, hips bucking faster up into your hand.

“ Yeah? Missed my touch, H?” You tease and he nods, head tilted back and mouth agape as tiny whimpers fall from his lips.

“ Yes, fuck missed it so much.” He confirms breathlessly.

“ Bet you were thinking about me when you sent me all those videos weren’t you?” You tease even more and he moans.

“ God yes. Only you.” He whimpers. You know he’s close. You can see it in the way he tugs harder at the cuffs and the way that the heavy pants falling from his lips are now within seconds of each other.

“ What were you thinking about, baby?” You decide to spur him on, knowing this will only bring him closer to his release. “ Thinking about my hand? The way I know exactly how to touch you?” You ask, flicking your wrist as you stroke him the way you know he likes and focusing more on his tip since it’s the most sensitive part of his length and often the part that gets him off the quickest. His head is still tilted back towards the headboard and his face is pinched almost in discomfort but you know that means that he’s even closer.

“ Or maybe you were thinking about my mouth.” You add. “ How good it feels around you.” You egg him on and you know it’s working because his hips are bucking up into your hand faster than you’ve seen them this whole time and hushed encouragements of “yes” fall from his parted lips in succession.

“ Thinking about how I can take you all the way? Or about how you like to put me on my knees and-” You continue but are quickly cut off by his shout.

“ Fuck! I’m there, I’m there.” He pants and you immediately pull your hand away. He whimpers and lets his head fall dramatically onto the pillow below him. “ Shit.” He breathes.

“ Good?” You ask him and he nods.

“ So good.” He whispers and you smile, leaning up to kiss him again. His tongue gives yours slow, deep strokes and you moan at the taste of him. You drag your knees behind you as you scoot closer to his face, fully submerging yourself into the kiss. You reach up to tug at his hair and greedily swallow the whimper that follows. You moan softly as he bites down on your lower lip and then pulls away, watching in awe as it snaps back into place. You smile and lean down to kiss the tip of his nose, giggling at the way it scrunches up after. You leave kisses on every inch of skin as you crawl back down his body, leaving him panting and squirming above you. As you sit beside him on the bed, you take his cock into your hand again, smiling at the way that he involuntarily moans and bucks up into your hand. You give him a few slow strokes, basking in his breathy moans and pants. You look up to see his head tilted back and his eyes screwed shut as he zeroes in on the pleasure that he’s sure will be taken from him soon. Or so he thinks.

“ Gonna use my mouth now okay?” You tell him and he nods feverishly.

“ Please.” He barely whispers. You crawl even further down his body and swing one leg over his calf while situating the other so that you’re sitting astride his legs. You give his length a few more tugs before lowering your mouth onto him. He releases a long whine as his eyes roll back in his head and he tugs at the cuffs.

“ Fuck.” He breathes as you start bobbing your head up and down while your tongue skirts over his length. His cock feels heavy on your tongue and you moan around him, causing his legs to jerk. You look up at him and see his knuckles turning a ghostly white from how tight he’s tugging on the cuffs. You run your hands up his body and give a rough slap to his pecs, making him groan and buck up into your mouth. You pull back from his cock and start stroking him, the sounds of your hand against your spit are absolutely sinful. He moans and bucks up into your hand again.

“ Feel good h?” You tease, already knowing the answer. He nods furiously.

“ It’s so good.” He breathes, looking down at you with half open eyes. You smile and lick your lips, wrapping them back around the head of his cock, you give a few swirls of your tongue around his head before pushing him all the way down your throat.

“ S-shit!” He gasps, tugging on the cuffs and arching his back. “ Oh my god.” He breathes, looking down at you. “ You’re so good, angel.” He pants and you moan around his cock.You pull off his cock with the most sinful sound and he whines, you continue stroking him to keep up the pleasure and he’s thrusting up into you. He tilts his head back and wraps his fingers around the wooden headboard.

“ You’re close aren’t you baby?” You ask and his nod is accompanied by a long whine as you squeeze him particularly hard. You lean down again and wrap your lips around his cock, focusing more on the tip once again. He whines and starts panting heavily.

“ Yes, yes, yes, yes.” He whispers, face pinched in pleasure as he feels the white hot heat travel up his spine. “ Fuck, gonna cum.” He whimpers and you pull off of him immediately. Watching him squirm and tug at the cuffs as his orgasm escapes him. He breathes deeply as he looks up at you. You wink at him and then kiss up and down his stomach, sucking and biting in some places. Once you reach his happy trail, you press kisses back up his torso, to his neck and eventually his lips. You connect your lips with his, biting softly on his bottom lip and watching as it snaps back into place. You reach over him and grab the vibe from the table. His eyes widen and he shakes his head feverishly.

“ No, no, no. Won’t last with that. I can’t.” He begs and you smile, turning it on.

“ Good thing you don’t have to then.” You tease. His eyes widen and you wink before pressing the vibe to the head of his cock. His back arches and he tugs at the cuffs, mouth open in a silent moan.

“ Oh, f-fuck.” He sputters as his head tilts back in pleasure. You move the head of the vibe around his tip and his eyes roll back in his head. “ Oh my god.” He breathes, toes curling. You sneak a glance up at him as you move the vibe around his length. His head is thrown back against the headboard, his toned chest heaves as his body wracks with pleasure. His eyes are closed and his bottom lip is being tugged on relentlessly by his teeth, his normal raspberry color deepening.

You move the vibe down his rigid length, making sure to put extra pressure on the prominent vein that runs down it, knowing he’s sensitive there. Your attentiveness has it’s desired reaction when Harry lets out a cracked whine, his face pinching in utter pleasure. His lips part and heavy pants fall one after the other from them. He lifts his head from where it rests against the pillow and looks up at you and he has to force his eyes not to roll back so he can continue staring at the sight in front of him.

You’re straddled atop his thighs, clad in only a lacy, lavender set that leaves little to the imagination. Your boobs spill out of the bra as you lean forward to move the vibe around his cock and the bottoms are so thin he can feel your wetness sticking to his thigh. Your hair creates the perfect shadow across your face as it dances in waves around your shoulders, swaying as you move with the vibe. He’s about to tell you just how delectable you look when he feels burning pleasure travel up his spine. You’ve moved the vibe back to his tip and the pleasure is ripping through him. He lets out a broken moan as you add more pressure to his slit with the vibe, his eyes rolling back in his head and hips involuntarily bucking. He tugs on the cuffs and throws his head back in ecstasy.

“Shit.” He moans, his back arching off the bed slightly. “ I’m gonna cum.” He groans, pushing his forehead against the headboard. “ I’m gonna cum.” He says again and you smile.

“ Cum for me, h. Want you to cum so fucking hard.” You say, adding a little whine to the end of your words knowing how much he loves to hear your sounds. He nods and his eyes roll back in his head once again as you reach down to fondle his balls as the vibe runs over his tip. His lips part in a silent shout and you find yourself wishing he had enough air to make the noise he’s holding back. You’ll just have to try harder. As you move the vibe around his slit, waiting for his release you take this time to really look at him. He looks so beautiful when he’s about cum. You don’t see it much because by the time he’s about to cum, you’ve already had 4 orgasms and physically don’t have the energy to open your eyes. But he’s gorgeous. A thin layer of sweat coats his toned body, shining on his pecs and his bulging biceps as he grips the chains for dear life. His chocolate brown curls are still slightly intact but getting messier the more he rolls around the pillow. His chest is littered with marks. Angry red scratches made by you as your orgasm overtakes you, your bouncing slowing from a hard, fast pace slam to a dull, barely there jump which is usually when Harry takes over. Wrapping you in his arms and thrusting up into you as he chases his release. His abdomen clenches, a clear sign that his release is only seconds away and you find yourself almost drooling at his lean, but muscular body as it lay sprawled out and tied up for you.

Your daydream is interrupted by a soft whine of “fuck” that gradually increases in volume until you see his back arch off the bed, his jeweled hands tugging the cuffs downwards and thick, white ribbons of his release coating the vibe and your hand. You watch his body as his abdomen clenches and unclenches as the waves of his orgasm slowly start to subside. A pant falls from his lips as he leans his head back on the pillow, catching his breath. His chest heaves, making his pecs look even bigger and you have to stop a quiet whimper from escaping you. Once he whines and wiggles his legs as best he can with you straddling them, you turn the vibe off and set it on the side table, leaning down to swipe your tongue across his tip, collecting his cum on your tongue and basking in the way his legs jerk and a whimper falls from his lips. You smile and pull back, running your nails lightly up his torso as his high slowly fades.

“ Christ, angel.” He breathes and you smile.

“ Was it good?” You ask and he scoffs, opening his eyes.

“ Bloody amazing.” He smiles. “ Gotta be honest though, dove. Not much of a punishment.” You smile and run your hand up his lean torso.

“ Sweet boy, you didn’t think that was it did you?” You ask and his eyes widen slightly.

“What do you mean?” He asks and you can tell he’s becoming increasingly nervous because he shifts awkwardly.

“I mean,” you say, reaching over him to grab the cock ring. “this night is far from over.” He follows your hand as it brings the ring in front of both of your faces.

“ Been such a fucking attention whore the whole day. Sending me videos, pictures, knowing i’m at work. That’s not a very good boy, h.” You smirk and you hear him suck in a breath.

“ B-but you already let me cum.” He whispers and you nod, a knowing smile plastered on your face.

“I know.” You say plainly and his next sentence is shaky.

“ So, what are you gonna-?” He starts and you look up at him, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes widen knowingly.

“ No. No, no y/n I can’t. You know I can’t. How many?” He asks and you just shrug.

“ However many I want.” You say, looking up at him then down at his cock. His eyes follow yours and he groans.

“M’still hard.” He whispers, eyes bright with both excitement and nervousness.

“ I see that.” You answer, toying with the ring. “What do you suggest we do?”

“ Make me cum again.” He breathes, bucking his hips towards you. You smile and run your hand up his thigh, gripping his sensitive cock in your hand, making him whimper in pleasure. You stroke his length gently, reveling in the way his hips jerk in sensitivity when you run your thumb over his slit.

“ Please.” He groans, tilting his head back. You land a harsh slap on his thigh and he whimpers.

“ Be patient.” You demand and he nods, a breathless “m’sorry” coming from his lips. You smile and lick your lips, staring almost hungrily at his cock. You take his length in your hand, setting the ring down on the bed before wrapping your lips around his tip. A broken moan falls from his lips at the unexpected warmth and his back arches.

“ Fucking christ.” He breathes, a long, drawn out moan attached to it as you give small, kitten licks to his slit. After a few moments, you pull off and he whines, kicking his feet. You look up at him and land a soft but firm slap to his cheek and he moans but stops his whining. You pick the ring up from the bed and turn it on and he sucks in a breath.

“ Ready?” You ask and he nods furiously.

“ Yes.” He groans and slip the ring onto his cock. His back arches and he tugs roughly on the cuffs. “ Jesus fucking-.” He gasps, back hitting the bed dramatically as the pleasure courses through him. You move up his body, kissing his stomach lightly and enjoying the way his abdomen clenches at the gentle touch. You trail sloppy, wet kisses over the laurels decorating his lower stomach, nosing slightly at his happy trail. The kisses make their way up his body, your tongue tracing the lines of his butterfly. You watch him as he looks down at you, his mouth agape with small pants falling from them, You make your way up his body, giving each nipple a small bite and he yelps, giggling. You smile up at him and lick your way up the rest of his body. When you get to his neck, you reach up and slightly grip his jaw, tilting his head up and to the side to grant you more access. He moans softly as you begin licking and sucking on different areas of his throat, turning the tan skin red which will soon fade to the purple he loves to admire in the mirror the morning after you guys’ activities. You waste no time in crashing your lips together as you reach his face. He sighs into the kiss and immediately deepens it, slipping his tongue into your mouth and giving it long strokes. You sigh contently and cup his face with one hand, using the other hand to tug gently at his chocolate brown curls. He moans softly into the kiss and tugs at the cuffs, showing he wants to touch you. You shake your head, never breaking from the kiss and he grumbles.

“ Let me taste you.” He breathes, pulling back from the kiss. “ Can feel how wet you are from that set you’ve got on. angel. Let me make you cum.” He finishes, eyes searching yours. You bite your lip and nod, moving your body so that your center rests above his face. He looks up at you and tugs on the cuffs. “ Please.” He breathes.

“ But y’look so pretty tied up like this baby.” You counter and he pouts.

“ Just for right now, please Y/N.” He begs and you sigh, reaching up and taking the handcuffs off of his writs. You grip both his wrists before his hands have a chance to touch you.

“ They’re going right back on after I cum okay?” You tell him and he nods, looking down at the wet spot growing bigger on the lavender bottoms.

“ Yes, yes okay.” He rushes and you let go of his hands, watching the way his eyes light up as his hands drop to your hips. He dips his fingers into the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them as far down as he could. You lift your body from where it rests, just enough for him to get the underwear down your ankles. He wastes no time in running a finger over your folds when you place yourself over his face again.

“ Fuck. You’re soaked for me, baby.” He whispers, eyes focused on your dripping core. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair, gripping it softly.

“ Harry.” You whisper, hips thrusting towards him and he smiles, gripping your hips. He pulls you so that your center rests right above his mouth, his eyes free to look up at you as he devours you like his last meal. The first swipe of his tongue against your folds has your eyes rolling back and your hips jerking.

“ Fuck.” You breathe, looking down at him.

“ Good?” He asks and you nod furiously.

“ Yes, God more. More Harry.” You beg and he nods, gripping your hips even tighter and licking over your folds once again, this time sucking your clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. Your back arches above him and he moans as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. Small pants fall from your lips as you look down and begin to grind over his face. He assists you, using both hands to help you ride his face and you bite your lip, reaching down and tugging at his curls.

“ Taste so good, sweetheart.” He moans, looking up at you with dilated pupils, confirming his hunger for you as if it wasn’t apparent in his every move. His praise sends a wave of pleasure up your spine causing a pitiful whine to fall from your lips. He soaks up your noises greedily, hand moving from your hip down to his hardened cock. He looks up at you and in your haze of pleasure you nod. He gives one tug to his shaft and his eyes roll back into his head, a long whine falling from his lips. He begins to nibble slightly on your clit and you yelp, looking down at him and smiling softly as you see the dorkiest look in his eyes.

“ Shit!” you giggle and you can see a smile spread across his face as he mouths away at your center. He continues tugging at his cock and the needy whimpers he emits travel straight to your dripping core. “Feel good baby?” you tease and he nods, pulling away from your core just enough to pant a few words.

“Feels so good.” He breathes, “Fucking throbbing.” He groans.

“After I cum, gonna make you cum okay?” You ask and he nods, going back to mouthing over your folds. He pulls away only enough to slip his middle finger into his mouth, coating it in his spit before teasing your hole with it.

“Harry.” You breathe and he wastes no time in slowly pushing his finger into you, you gasp as your back arches and your hands tug even harder at his mess of curls. “Shit.” You pant, looking down at him, his smug face sending waves of pleasure down you spine as he starts siding his finger in and out of you.You reach down to grip his hair and he moans softly. He pushes his long, slender finger into you again, nudging your g-spot slightly and you whimper softly. He makes a come hither motion and it causes a wave of pleasure to ripple throughout your entire body and he revels in it. Basking in the broken moan that falls from your lips as he adds in a second finger. He tugs harder on his cock, your desperation for him only fueling his need. His eyes roll back in his head and his pink lips part as he runs a thumb over his slit, his cold ring sending a chilling wave of pleasure through his body. He kisses the part of your stomach he can reach, licking the area before softly biting it, causing you to jerk away from him and giggle. He smiles up at you and moves his mouth back to your core, lapping away at the wetness that’s pooled there since his fingers were added into the mix. He closes his eyes as he begins to devour you again, the loud moan you emit causing him to give his shaft a harsh tug. Shaky hands reach up to grip the headboard as you start to grind over his face, not even caring how desperate you sound because you just need him to get you there.

Your release had been put off long enough, from him edging you three times this morning, to you getting interrupted right as you were about to topple over the edge in the break room and to you having to deny yourself of any relief on the fifteen minute drive to the apartment. You feel yourself clench around his fingers as you recount all those events and the whine that falls from his mouth sends vibrations up your spine, a small shiver coursing through you.

“ Need to cum.” He whispers and you look down at him. His chest is heaving heavily and his mouth is open, head thrown back against the headboard as he strokes himself quickly.

“ What did I tell you?” You ask him and he whines, hips bucking.

“ You- you cum first, then me.” He pants and you smile.

“ Good, h. That’s a good boy.” You praise and he smiles, beginning to mouth away at you again, faster this time. You groan and throw your head back, your nails digging into the wood of the headboard as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“ Faster.” You moan and he immediately obliges, plunging his fingers in and out of you fast and hard.

“ Fuck!” You cry out and he moans into your center. You feel his arm next you move faster and you know that he’s speeding up the tugs on his cock, chasing his release just as desperately as he’s chasing yours. He pulls back when you start riding his face desperately and lands a harsh slap to your center that has you crying out.

“ Shit!” You squeak, looking down at him and biting your lip as his eyes roll back from the pent up pleasure. “ Again.” You moan and he wastes no time in landing another harsh slap to your clit, licking over it immediately after. He repeats that four more times before hearing your sharp cry of, “ I’m coming!” and he slips his fingers back into you, plunging them in and out at an almost inhuman speed that has you screaming his name.

His name along with a string of curse words fall from your lips like a song as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, causing your body to fall forward and go limp against the headboard, body shaking uncontrollably above your whining boyfriend. He fucks you through it, pushing his fingers in and out softly, marveling at the way your body spasms when the pad of his finger just barely grazes that spot inside of you. You take a deep breath, panting heavily as you come down from your high. You barely get any time to rest before his hips are bucking and he’s whining out.

“ Me now. Please. M’so hard.” He begs and you sigh, jelly legs crawling down his body because you have nowhere near the amount of energy it would take to lift yourself up and off of him. Your reach down and move his hand off of his shaft replacing it with your own and he moans, gripping the sheets beside him.

“ Off. I need it off y/n, please.” He whispers and you nod, slipping the ring off of his cock with some difficulty given how hard he was. You immediately wrap your lips around his shaft, wanting him to reach his release so he could finally be inside you and he gasps, head coming up to look at you only to drop back down to the pillow as he thrusts into your mouth. “ Fuck.” He moans, a shaky hand coming up to rest on the back of your head, gripping your hair slightly. You reach down and fondle his balls lightly and he nearly screams as he feels his orgasm hurtling towards him. You push him all the way down your throat and that sends him over the edge.

“ Shit, shit, shit.” He groans, hips bucking into your mouth, making you gag around his cock. “M’coming. M’coming!” He shouts and there’s barely five seconds in between his announcement and the first spurt of his release into your mouth. Desperate moans, whines and whimpers fall from his lips without any break as his second orgasm of the night consumes him. You pull back from his cock and swallow, wiping the remnants of his release from your chin and pressing the pad of your thumb to his tongue, watching him wrap his pink lips around your thumb, a tired look overtaking his green eyes. He pulls off your thumb with a pop and his head falls dramatically onto the pillow behind him.

“ Fuck.” He whispers and you smile, kissing all over his face.

“ How do you feel, my love?” You coo, brushing some of his sweaty curls back from his forehead.

“ Sleepy.” He replies, pulling you up to him and nosing at your neck. You hum and kiss his temple.

“ You think you can give me one more?” You ask and his eyes widen.

“ M’tired.” He whines and you giggle.

“ Know you are, sweet boy. But don’t you wanna be inside me?” You ask, your fingers raking through his curls as he closes his eyes. “ S’up to you, babyboy.” You remind him and he nods.

“ Wanna be inside you.” He decides and you smile. “ But y’have to fuck me. Too tired.” He says and laugh softly before nodding.

“ You weren’t gonna be on top any way silly.” You tell him and he pouts. You lean forward and kiss the pout off of his full lips and he moans softly when you bite his bottom lip gently. The next few minutes are spent like that, soft but passionate kisses, teasing and biting until you feel him start to stir slightly underneath you.

You look down to where his shaft rests on his stomach, kissing his pec lightly before making your way back down his body. He opens his eyes just slightly and gasps when your hand wraps around his cock.

“ Sensitive.” He breathes and you nod.

“ I know, one more and then we’ll cuddle.” You say and he nods, dropping his head to the pillow. You lick over his slit once and he lets out a pained groan, gripping the headboard above him. You watch his hand move and realize that he’s still uncuffed. You crawl back up his body, straddling him and reaching for the cuffs.

“ Hands up for me, bubba.” You tell him and he raises his hands limply above your head. You slip the cuffs on and secure them around his wrist before crawling back down his body and stroking at his cock again. He moans loudly and his face twists in pleasure, you can feel him beginning to harden again so you wrap your lips around his head and suckle lightly. He lets out a broken whine as sensitivity shoots through every nerve in his body, setting them all on fire. He tugs at the cuffs and opens his eyes to look down at you, moaning as your eyes meet his while you take more of him. His hips jerk when you reach down to fondle his balls, the tip of his cock meeting the back of your throat. He whimpers loudly as you gag around him, still lightly touching his balls and his long fingers wrap around the chain of the cuffs. You pull off his cock with the most sinful pop and waste no time in sucking one of his balls into your mouth, furiously stroking at his cock as you do so and his hips buck wildly into your hands.

“ Fucking hell.” He groans, throwing his head back against the headboard. “ Full.” He gasps. “ W-wanna be full.” You pull off of him and smile.

“ Yeah? Feeling empty bub?” You ask and he nods feverishly, looking down at you.

“ Please.” He whispers, bucking his hips and you smile, planting a pert kiss to his slit and marveling at the way his eyes roll back before you walk to the closet. You pull out the drawer of toys you and him keep for when either of you are feeling for some fun, which is quite often. You sift through the plugs. vividly remembering the times they’d been used on either you or Harry. After searching through the drawer, you peek your head out of the closet and smile at him.

“Which color, bubbie?” You ask and he bites his lip in thought.

“ Want purple.” He smiles and you nod.

“ The glittery one?”

“Mhm.” He nods, shifting again as you pick up the plug and walk back to him. You kneel down beside him to grab the lube from his bedside drawer.

“ Which one angel?” You ask and he looks between the two flavors of lube.

“ Strawberry.” He decides and you laugh softly.

“ How did I know?” You ask rhetorically. He loved the strawberry flavor, so much so that every time he saw it at the store, he picked one or two up. You two had hardly even touched the other bottle, it was the one you carried with you in your purse if you two were going out and you felt like teasing him even though that hardly ever happened, considering the fact that he was the one calling the shots most of the time. You slip the other lube back into the drawer and position yourself in front of his legs.

“ Know what to do baby, c’mon.” You smile and he spreads his legs, bending them at the knees.

“ There’s a good boy.” You coo and he blushes. You lean forward and brush your lips against his inner thigh and he shudders. “Gonna stretch you out first okay?” You tell him and he nods. You flip open the cap on the bottle, squirting a fair amount onto your finger considering it had been a while since Harry had been the one in this position. You rub the lube over him and he gasps, you look up at him and he giggles.

“Cold.” He grins and you laugh softly, rolling your eyes. Once you deem him properly lubed, you squirt some more onto your finger, attempting to warm it as much as you can by rolling it in between your two fingers. You press the pad of your finger against his hole and he whines.

“Inside.” He breathes and you push your finger in slowly, causing him to tug harshly on the cuffs and his back to arch off the bed. “Shit.” He groans and you bite your lip as you watch your finger move slowly in and out of him.

“God H, fucking tight.” You whisper lowly and he whimpers, biting his lip. He lets out a low groan as your finger nudges his prostate and you watch the way his abdomen clenches.

“ More. I can take it.” He breathes.

“You sure?”

“Mhm. Promise.” He nods and you oblige, slowly sliding another finger inside him. You bite your lip and watch in awe as his hole stretches deliciously, his lewd moans an added bonus.

“Touch me. Please touch me.” He groans, bucking his hips slightly and you waste no time in wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping. His head falls back against the pillow and a pained groan falls from his lips as two of his most sensitive areas are worked by your hands. You stroke his cock, running your thumb over his sensitive slit at the same time your fingers brush against his prostate and his back arches almost completely off the bed, a strangled moan falling from his pink lips.

You continue stretching him out until he whines.

“Want the plug. M’good, I promise.” He tells you and you nod since you’d been stretching him out for at least 15 minutes at this point. You reach for the plug and without missing a beat, pull your fingers from his just as you press the tip of the plug to his puckered hole and push. He groans as the cold tip pushes into him, his abdomen clenching as the plug fills him. You go slower than normal seeing as this was the first time he’s been full in weeks but he protests.

“Faster.” He whines, pushing forward to try and take more of the plug and you slap his thigh, making him whimper.

“ Don’t wanna hurt you, H. Patience please.” And he whines again but you ignore him and continue to ease the plug in. He moans lewdly when it’s fully in and you marvel at how pretty the flower at the bottom of the plug looks sticking out of him. You look up and see him biting his lip, his chest sweaty and heaving and biceps bulging from the grip he has on the cuffs. You had stopped stroking his cock while you pushed the plug into him and you feel it now, hardened again in your grip. You give him a few more strokes before rising from your position and sitting in between his bent knees.

“Want me to fuck you?” You whisper and his response is immediate. A furious nod of his head and whispered, “yes please”. All of the other times you two were in this position, you’d made him beg for you. Beg to the point of tears filling his eyes and his breath coming out in short, frantic puffs. But now, you didn’t make him wait. You were far too ready to have him fill you up so you stroked him a few more times before lining him up with your center and sinking down on him.

Both reactions are immediate. His is a gasp followed by a moan as his head lifts and drops back onto the pillow and yours is a loud whimper with your head thrown back as you bottom out. You let out a soft gasp as Harry’s hips buck up into you, his cock hitting the spot he knew like the back of his hand.

“ Have to move angel, please.” He groans and you obey, lifting up once and the dropping back down, creating a rhythm that has you both whining.

“ Fucking hell. So fucking tight.” He moans, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls clench around him. You moan as the words flow from his mouth your pace quickening.

“ Shit.” You moan, throwing your head back. “Fucking huge baby.” You whine, your hands going to rest behind you as you leave the front of your body on full display for his hungry eyes. He moans at the praise and tries his best to thrust up into you, assuming he’s doing something right by the way your stomach clenches and the gasp that erupts from your throat. He does it again and you moan, leaning forward and putting your hands above his head to steady yourself. You press your forehead to his and he smiles, laughing breathlessly as you bounce even harder. He reaches up and presses his lips to yours and you kiss him back immediately, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip and moaning when he opens his mouth. The kiss is heated but slow and precise, his tongue stroking yours in slow, deliberate movements that have you moaning into his mouth so he can swallow them. You pull back after a little bit, your hands now moving to rest on his chest, digging in slightly to his pecs and watching him hiss. You quicken your pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his as you bounce resounding across the room and his noises are short, lewd moans as his orgasm approaches. You were glad that you had edged him twice and then made him cum twice because you knew that his next orgasm would be fast and considering how desperate you were, yours would be too.

“ Feel so good, dove.” He groans. “So fucking warm and tight, Fucking christ.” He finishes with a whimper and you moan softly. Your bounces are desperate and sloppy now, you can feel the fire inside your belly growing every time his cock hits the spot only he can. He feels you squeeze around him as he hits that spot again and he whimpers. “M’gonna cum, fuck gonna cum.” And you waste no time in bouncing as hard and as fast as you can because you could feel your own orgasm fast approaching.

“Cum for me, H. Wanna feel it.” You beg and he moans again as your core squeezes him, A pained whimper is the next thing you hear as his orgasm rips through him, his back arching ridiculously off the bed and the cuffs almost detaching from their place on the headboard. His faces pinches in pleasure and his teeth are on full display as loud whimpers of “ah” erupt one after the other from his mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as you watch his face and his strained plea of “please god please” is what sends you over the edge. Your body shakes and your mouth falls open, a silent scream falling from between your parted lips. He groans both in pleasure and sensitivity as your walls clench again, milking every last drop from him.

You collapse onto his chest, panting and he smiles breathlessly.

“Holy shit.” He giggles and you roll your eyes playfully. You stay like that for a few more minutes before remembering the most important part of scenes. Aftercare.

“Let’s get you cleaned up hm?” You tell him and he nods weakly. You lift off of him, wincing slightly as the empty feeling overtakes you and walk on wobbly legs to the bathroom. Wetting a towel with warm water, wiping yourself off first, dampening it again and then bringing it out to him. You clean his stomach and thighs from the first two orgasms and then lightly clean his cock, cooing to him when he hisses in sensitivity. Once he’s all cleaned up you toss the rag into a pile with your other clothes and reach up, undoing his cuffs. His hands fall limply to his sides and he takes a deep breath, exhaling dramatically. You giggle and walk over to your drawers, you pull out two shirts, one for him and one for you. You toss a shirt and a clean pair of boxers on the bed for him and strip of your own attire before slipping on the your shirt and a fresh pair of underwear. You walk over to him and comb your fingers through his hair.

“ Can you sit up for me bubba?” You ask softly and he nods, slowly sitting and then leaning his head against your tummy. You giggle and kiss the top of his head. “Gonna get your dressed and then we’ll go to sleep okay?” You ask and he nods, pulling back from your stomach. You thank him and pick up the shirt, slipping it over his head before gently pushing him down so you call pull the boxers up his legs. Before doing that, you gently remove the plug resulting in a whine and your explanation of why it’s not good to leave it in. He huffs and then finally agrees, letting you slide the boxers up his legs and lifting his hips so you can get it under his backside. You stand up from where you knelt in front of him and climb into bed, he moves over and buries his head in your neck, sighing happily.

“Thank you for tonight.” He whispers and you smile.

“Wasn’t too much was it?” You ask, concern lacing your voice and he shakes his head furiously.

“Nuh uh. Was perfect, I promise.” He smiles and you kiss him gently on the nose.

“Sleep now, sweet baby. You’re safe.” You tell him and he nods, drifting off with a mumbled “I love you”.

#my writings #KALSLSKNSBSKSKSNS IT’S HERE Y’ALL #sub!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction

998 notes · View notes

stuckwith-harry · 3 years

Text

cried out to you alone

“It becomes a part of who you are”, Harry says, some sort of clarity coming to him. “Death, I mean. Grief. It doesn’t have to swallow you whole, but there is a little bit of it in every part of you.”

Impossible, is the only thing Harry can stand to think. That there is still sunlight in the world after everything.

Still, it pours out over the Burrow’s kitchen table in bright, luminous yellow, warming the veined wood. Harry and the Weasleys watch it creep over the tabletop, sitting elbow-to-elbow. Molly and Arthur are touching shoulders and brushing through hair as they pass around steaming mugs of tea, as they pour milk and stir in spoonfuls of sugar, the bags under their eyes swollen and purple like figs.

When Harry tries to open his mouth, to offer help, Molly quickly shakes her head at him; pleading. Like she wouldn’t know what else to do with herself.

So Harry stays, cramped between George and Ginny, and lets her place her palm on his back as she places his tea in front of him. Through the open window, a sweet-smelling breeze comes pouring in, the smell of warm soil and flowers and summer rapidly approaching, which seems impossible, too.

Tomorrow morning, they’re going to get out of bed and make breakfast. They’re going to feed the chicken in the yard, do the dishes and read the newspaper. Still, the sun is going to come up.

For a moment, he catches Ron’s gaze; Ron, whose face is oddly contorted and whose eyes are glassy and bright red. Harry can’t bear the sight of it: he stares at the old mug in his hands, examining the faded red dots, hand-painted. Anything that soothes.

Poppies, he realises. On the inside, near a chip at the rim, he can make out the small letters spelling out Ottery St. Catchpole, and below that, half-drowning in sweet tea: Flea Market, 1988.

A memory, then. One he wasn’t a part of, but one he can envision, anyway, the bright red summer day, the bustling and shuffling of the little village, the shrieking of children, strawberry ice cream rapidly melting and dripping on bare knees; a younger, happier Ron –

The scraping of a chair yanks him back, as Ginny abruptly gets to her feet and walks out without a word. No one tries to stop her, and the small, pathetic sound of her bedroom door closing from atop the stairs sounds down to them as though she slammed it.

After that, only silence. No pots stir in the kitchen sink, no footsteps thunder from several floors above, and no chatter, no yelling, no laughter holds the walls of the house together. No explosions sound from the twins’ room.

Death is an awfully quiet affair.

One by one, as the stripes on the tabletop grow long and orange, the Weasleys crawl into their hiding places. Harry knows he’s intruding, so he wanders outside, following the soft clucking of the chicken pecking away at the dirt behind their wooden fence, the only things alive and making a sound.

The solitude is a relief: he has never wished to flee the walls of the Burrow so desperately, only stayed long enough to change out of the black funeral robes and into an old Quidditch jumper. Then he pushed Ron’s bedroom door open far enough to slip out and disappear, and mercifully, Ron didn’t try to stop him, either.

The jumper is Ron’s, technically. It feels like being held, Gryffindor red and worn and entirely too large for Harry. Somehow that only makes him feel worse.

The Weasleys did not hesitate to take him home with them after the battle, because that was their way. They put up the old camp bed in Ron’s violently orange bedroom like they always had, and Ron silently handed him a pile of hand-me-downs so Harry would have something to wear other than the clothes that still reeked of the tent, of sweat and of blood.

Harry props his elbows up on the weathered fence and buries his face in the soft sleeves, breathing deeply. For a while, he simply listens as the hens, who do not know or care about anything, cluck away happily, as the urge to slip under the invisibility cloak, to disappear and never make a sound again, keeps on rushing over him.

“Hi.”

His heart jumps painfully into his throat at the quiet greeting and the sound of footsteps on dry grass that preceded it, and when he turns around to face it, he’s looking at Ginny. She’s changed out of her black dress robes, too, back into worn-out denim dungarees and a striped t-shirt. Scarlet and yellow. Her hair has come out of the braid from earlier and falls wildly to her collarbones again, no longer to her belly button, like it used to.

“I couldn’t stand the silence anymore”, she says, voice oddly throaty.

Harry wants to say, you don’t have to explain, but before he can, she pushes out: “And then I was in my room and it was just as fucking quiet, and I just – I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

She looks older, Harry thinks wildly. He hasn’t let himself look at her, not really, doesn’t even know why, just that he’s been avoiding her most of all. Ever since May 2nd, the quiet between them has stretched and stretched over miles and oceans and continents of wasteland. Harry knows it’s his fault, that he should say something, but he has no words, no words at all.

The first morning after the battle, when he came stumbling into the common room and found her there, they just held each other, and he had no words then, either. There was sunlight there, too, he remembers suddenly, poking through the shattered windows and lighting up every particle of dust floating around the empty room.

“Can we go somewhere else?”, she asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Anywhere else?”

Harry nods, mouth dry. For a moment, her eyes seem to linger on him, but then she turns away without another word, and he follows her lead without question or objection. They don’t speak again until they reach the old broomshed, and Ginny suddenly turns to look at him again, face unreadable.

“Any chance you wanna go for a fly?”

“Wh-What?”

She shrugs. “Do you?”

It’s a strange time capsule, the shed. Ginny pushes the wooden door open and sends flurries of dust into the air, catching sunlight; Harry, who is standing behind her, catches a glimpse of Arthur’s old Muggle trinkets and the old brooms lined up against the wall. Ron and Ginny’s are closest to the door; the twins’ brooms are up on a shelf opposite the square window.

For a moment, Ginny is perfectly still, and Harry knows she is looking at them, too. Then she reaches for her broom and silently pushes past him. Harry grabs Ron’s and closes the door of the shed behind him, and together they wander away from the Burrow, over the hills that surround it, where wild poppies are peeking through the unkempt grass and weeds.

Harry thinks he knows where she’s going: their makeshift Quidditch pitch hidden between gnarly old trees from summers long lost, where they used to chuck apples and tennis balls at each other, during all those afternoons spent playing Quidditch two against two.

Tall, sweet-smelling yarrow brushes along their bare shins as they walk, and pink clover, the soft heads bending back to the earth under the weight of bumblebees passing by, thick dandelion leaves spread all across the ground amidst the weeds; and everywhere poppies, peeking through the tall grass, the paper-thin petals fluttering in the breeze.

Tucked behind another hill, Harry remembers, a few minutes on foot further north, is the lake where they whiled away happier summer afternoons than this. The image comes to his mind in bright, sunny colours, Ginny’s wide, toothy grin as she sneaks up on Ron, the thundering splash and Hermione’s piercing shriek, and Ron, emerging, spluttering and yelling, his sopping hair plastered to his face.

But that was centuries ago, and their full-bellied laughter seems miles and countries away already. Here, only silence. Harry wants to ask, are you okay?, or say, it’s going to be alright, but what good would it do?

The poppies are early: they’re not supposed to bloom for another month. There’s no end to them, no matter how far they walk, a sea of red stretching out all over the soft hills. Harry can’t tear his eyes away until the first beech trees they used to climb, black pines and yews throw cool shadows over their heads.

Strange, that it looks the same. The leaves up above their heads rustle softly as they mount their brooms, and Ginny shoots into the air, a quiet cannon. For the better part of an hour, they zoom in circles through the rapidly cooling air, chucking an old Quaffle back and forth at each other. Ginny’s throws are hard and unrelenting: they’re not keeping score, but she’s playing like it’s the last game of the season, like the House Cup depends on it, so Harry lets her exhaust herself. By the time they sink back to the ground, the sky over the meadow is dotted in shades of pink and red.

Ginny hits the ground with such force her knees buckle under the impact and hit the dry grass. Harry gasps, but she is already getting up again, brushing off the dirt without comment.

They find a spot at the outer edge of the pitch and slump into the tall grass with their backs leaning against an oak tree, where they can see the sunset falling on the soft hills and the Burrow in the distance, bright red like poppies. Ginny’s hands are uselessly holding her ribs, her warm eyes staring off into nothing.

“Feel any better?”, Harry asks after a while.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She shifts next to him, tucking her scraped knees to her chest. They look like she’s spent all summer climbing trees and rolling down the grassy hills around the Burrow and crashing her broomstick into her brothers in a spectacular grab for the Quaffle.

“At least I feel a little less like I was buried with him”, she mutters.

I’m sorry, Harry wants to say, but that seems useless, too.

“I wanted to leave, too”, he says finally. “It was so quiet in there.”

“I hate it”, Ginny says softly. “It doesn’t feel anything like home when it’s like this.”

“I’m sorry”, he says despite himself, for what feels like the thousandth time since everything. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Ginny's brows furrow slightly, as if to say, yes, you should. “If you weren’t, I’d still be shut up in my room right now. Going mad, probably.”

After a short pause, she adds: “I wouldn’t know who to talk to.”

It strikes Harry like lightning: she was looking for him.

She looks over at him as though searching for something. Her brown eyes glow golden in the warm light, like honey, her whole face painted in reds and oranges and pinks.

“How do you do it?”, she asks finally, voice quiet, but steady, as the soft breeze continues to rush through the trees. “How do you lose everyone you’ve lost – and go on living? How do you live with the dead?”

Harry looks at her, the way she sits cross-legged and hunched over in the grass next to him, arms hugged to herself, and it sinks in, what she’s searching for, what she’s asking of him.

“It’s not the same”, he says softly.

She scoffs quietly. “How is that not the same?”

Harry looks around their hiding place. Maybe it’s the creaking of old branches around them, almost a murmur, the smell of the trees, that brings them back: his parents in the Forbidden Forest, walking towards him, Sirius’ bright grin, Dumbledore at King’s Cross Station.

The thought of them cuts through him, every beat of his heart sharp and stinging as they remain dead and he does not.

“Your speech”, he says finally, and watches her jaw clench. “I couldn’t have said anything like that about my parents – or Sirius …”

“I can’t believe I wrote him a fucking eulogy”, Ginny mutters, staring at the weeds to her feet, the patches of moss creeping across the earth under the wild, entangled grass. “It makes it feel so fucking final.”

“You did really well”, Harry says. “It was beautiful.”

She merely shrugs, and he doesn’t blame her.

“I’m glad I got to say something, I think”, she says after another stretch of silence. “But, Merlin, he was walking and talking and making jokes just a week ago, and now he’s six feet underground and I’ve written a double-sided page on how sorely he’ll be missed.”

She wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve.

“Up until today, I really thought he might jump up and laugh it off and make fun of us for falling for it.”

You made it feel like that today, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.”

She read it out with a completely steady voice, both fists clutching the slip of paper in her hand. She did not bother to find a silver lining this time, or to look for meaning at all; but every word seemed to bring Fred back to life a little, even earning a few teary chuckles from the other Weasleys. Every anecdote and every prank she recounted was a testament to the fact that Fred Weasley had been alive, that he had mattered, that he had left an impact on her, on all of them.

“You know my Mum had brothers”, Ginny says suddenly, looking over at Harry’s hands. “Fabian and Gideon Prewett.”

She points, and Harry realises what she’s really looking at: Fabian Prewett’s battered old watch on his arm.

“They died in the first war. Bill, Charlie and Percy say they remember them a little, but the rest of us just grew up hearing stories.”

She picks at the shallow wound on her knee, where droplets of bright red blood have pushed to the surface through the cracks in her freckled skin. “It’s why Fred and George are named after them. A little bit, anyway – you know, Fred and George … Fabian and Gideon … Mum was pregnant when they died.”

Harry swallows. “I didn’t know.”

Ginny smiles sadly. “I liked the idea that they got to live on in the twins a little. I never thought to ask Fred and George how they felt about it, actually. I can’t imagine … how Mum feels.”

Harry watches her wrap her arms around her legs, watches the strawberry blond hairs on her shins stand on end as the air cools around them. She looks tired, but her eyes are dry.

“I never made that connection”, he says softly.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you”, she says. “It seemed important.”

Even over the rustling of the trees, the chirping and creaking all around them, he can hear her clearly, her voice steady, unwavering.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes.”

She looks around at him. “Do you not miss your parents?”

“I don’t know how”, Harry mutters. “Your speech … it was full of memories.”

She doesn’t respond, understanding silently. Then: “What about Sirius?”

Harry shrugs. “He never really got to be my godfather, did he? Not the way he was supposed to, anyway … there wasn’t time. And I don’t remember when my parents were alive – I’ve never known anything else.”

He looks at her, the way she’s quietly watching. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were hoping to hear.”

Ginny dismisses it with a half-hearted gesture, lost in thoughts somewhere else.

“Do you think grieving someone is the same thing as missing them, then?”

“No … do you?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes her head.

“I just – I just want to talk to him and tell him what’s going on, and I think about how long it’s been since I’ve talked to him and how much I wish he were here and how I’m not gonna get to talk to him –”

She pauses mid-sentence, as though looking for words, and doesn’t find any.

“And then I think about the fact that he’s dead. That his life is over. And that I helped bury him today. And they’re both – awful, but it’s different, I guess.”

Harry nods, more to himself than to Ginny this time.

“And now, I just – I need to know what to do. So it doesn’t swallow me whole.”

Harry is still watching them walk towards him before his inner eye, his parents in the Forbidden Forest, his mother’s hungry face.

“I forget, sometimes”, he says. “For a moment, I think I forget they’re gone. Or I’m – I don’t know, distracted, and I’m not thinking about it – it slips away, and then it hits me again.”

Ginny’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. “I … honestly can’t fathom it right now.”

Harry looks over at her, the way she sits next to him, curled into herself, her hands still uselessly holding her ribs. Like it is physically hurting her.

“I dunno. Maybe forgetting is the wrong word. But when it happens, it always feels like it’s happening to someone else, like I am someone else.”

Ginny watches him intently as he stumbles to the end of his sentence: it feels pathetic already, having said it out loud like that.

“Like you are who you would’ve been if they hadn’t died?”, she asks, in that quietly remarkable way of hers, where she doesn’t treat him like something delicate, but she doesn’t ask for more than he can give, either.

“Yeah, I reckon. But I don’t recognise him at all.”

Ginny hums in understanding. She leans back against the bark of the tree and pulls her knees to herself again. “You would’ve been happier, anyway.”

Harry turns away at that, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

“I know it doesn’t make sense or anything –”

“No, it does, Harry.”

“I mean, I know they couldn’t have lived. Everything would have to be different. We probably wouldn’t be here.”

Ginny sits in silence for a while.

“Do you ever wonder?”, she asks finally. “What you would’ve been like?”

“I guess … more like them. In ways I can recognise, anyway.”

He gestures helplessly at nothing, and Ginny takes that as a sign to push no further.

“I don’t recognise Ginny a week ago, either”, he hears her say, and the muffled sound of her voice tells him she’s wiping her nose on her sleeve again. “Every time something terrible happened, I guess I didn’t. It’s like remembering an old friend. One whose address you lost or something.”

“Cheery”, Ginny says in a hollow voice.

“It gets less all-consuming”, he says softly.

“Good”, she mutters. “Right now it’s pretty fucking all-consuming. It’s there when I wake up in the morning, and it’s – in my tea, and on all my clothes, and it’s in everyone I talk to and everything I say.”

Harry stares at the sky overhead, the red rapidly paling. Still, there is that whispering in the treetops, the feeling of being transported back into the Forbidden Forest. Still, his parents, reaching out for him.

“I’m sorry”, he says truthfully. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Ginny shakes her head. “It’s all I needed.”

He watches her tug at a poppy near her feet, struck by how long he’s managed to stay away from her, when her company is so comforting. The resolution comes to him all on its own, that he’s going to tell her everything. The Forbidden Forest. King’s Cross Station.

“Do you want to head back yet?”

Ginny looks at him, and she seems calmer somehow. For the first time since they got here, she doesn’t seem to be searching for anything – just looking.

“In a little while”, she says.

Harry looks back at her, really looks at her, and for a long time, neither of them speak, having arrived at some quiet understanding. Still, there’s a murmur in the trees around them, but they pay it no mind, and they don’t turn to look.

#i never posted it in obnoxious long text post form so :-)#here we are.#hinny #hp #fanfiction #cried out

104 notes · View notes