#and harry laughs softly and shakes his head and then kisses her for a long time

[harryforvogue]

mia would be the one to miss the ball drop on new years because she was too busy complaining but then harry shuts her right up with a kiss 🥰

"6...5..."

"hey! my drink dropped!" mia says frowning, looking at her shoes. they're all covered with hot chocolate now. "everyone's pushing me! ugh no!""

"baby look--"

"4..."

"i really wanted it. and it was getting cold too--"

harry grabs her shoulders. "honey hold on--"

"3..."

"should i go get another? ugh, but how will i find you again? i already---"

"2..."

"and i really--" mia tries.

"1!"

"oh for fuck's sake mia!" harry growls, pulling her towards him, making her fall against his chest. he holds her face and kisses her hard, shutting her up immediately. cheers erupt around them. mia throws her arms around harry suddenly, gasping.

"happy new year!"

#harry and mia #this but also aaliyah and harry during new years #only harry's trying to kiss aaliyah and she's too excited by the lights and the crowd so she doesn't pay him any attention #until he says 'aaliyah i am trying so hard to kiss you. will you at least let me?' #and aaliyah is like #'.....aye. sorry.' #and harry laughs softly and shakes his head and then kisses her for a long time #harry and aaliyah

[stylesharrys]

all that you are | part 2 [mafiarry]

authors note: part 2 is here! another long one darlings, so get comfy and some snacks! next part will be posted sometime next week or the week after as I’m currently half way through writing. I hope you're enjoying the series so far!!

word count: 26,163 (i’m not even sorry)

warnings: lots of swearing, violence, use of deadly weapons, torture, murder, descriptions of a de*d body, arranged marriages, mentions of blood and abuse, smut; oral (fem receiving), a little dirty talk, kissing, teasing.

summary: the time has come for harry’s initiation as capo dei capi, and y/n has mixed feelings about the steps he has to take.

//

Y/N sighs softly, brows pinched together and a sad glint in her eyes. Maria stares back at her through the small screen of Y/N’s phone.

She hasn’t spoken to anyone since she found out Stefano isn’t Harry’s biological father three days ago. She’s been preparing herself for the backlash she thought she was bound to face, but it’s yet to come.

“Bruno’s just a massive dick, still. Nothing’s changed. Oh, but me, Dad and Uncle Giovanni are coming to New York next month!”

Y/N’s ears perk up and she feels tears of happiness well in her eyes. It doesn’t matter that it’s been a week and a half since she’s been gone, it already feels like a lifetime.

“You are! When? What date!? Wait, why are you coming to New York with Father and Uncle Romero?”

Y/N can’t keep the questions at bay, doubt and worry bubbling within her. She may not know much about the business her family and others within the Famiglia conduct, but she knows it’s uncommon for women, especially daughters, to travel.

Maria shrugs, a hint of nervousness glimmering in her eyes.

“Some Nino dude in Harry’s family wants to marry me… I overheard Dad and Vanni talking about it,” her voice dies off in a hesitant whisper, tone full of fear and worry.

Y/N’s very rarely seen such a side of her cousin and she hates that she isn’t able to be by her side, to comfort her and beg Giovanni not to do this.

“What?! You can’t marry Nino, Maria. He’s dangerous!”

Her mind is in a frenzy, Harry’s words boiling in her head. Stay away from Nino. He’s merciless and evil. Her palms start to sweat, lungs tighten and it’s like someone’s sitting on her chest, restricting her lungs from fully expanding and it swells a panic deep in her gut.

Maria’s seemingly oblivious on the other end, or maybe she’s just trying to not let the gravity of the situation affect her.

“I mean, I met him at your wedding. He’s hot as fuck, dude,” she gawks in her typical, vibrant self but Y/N doesn’t let herself snort a laugh like she usually would.

Guilt is what’s bubbling in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. Maybe this is Harry’s doing. Maybe this is the punishment she has to face for snooping through his personal photos that he clearly hid away from prying eyes. Maybe all of this is Y/N’s fault.

She’s shaking her head instead, gripping the phone in a tight vice and swallowing back the raw pain her throat feels from willing herself not to scream.

“I’m going to fix this, okay? I’ll talk to Harry and I’ll fix this. I promise, Maria. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Y/N spends the rest of the afternoon gnawing her fingernails raw. She’s burnt holes in the ground from pacing back and forth and every time Mike has tried to converse with her, she’s unintentionally blanked him.

She hasn’t sat down since she ended the call with Maria, hasn’t had her hands out of her hair for longer than ten minutes before she’s tugging on it again.

She’s eager for Harry to come home, desperate to get on her knees and beg him not to do this. She doesn’t think he’s the kind of person to punish someone else to upset her but she doesn’t know him.

She doesn’t know what he’ll do to get a point across. She’s sure he doesn’t like the idea of hurting women, but when a man’s ego is bruised or they’re angry, they tend to go back on their word.

It’s another three hours of aimless pacing when Harry finally returns to the penthouse. The second he steps foot out of the elevator, she’s in the closest proximity they’ve been since their first dance; glossy eyes and a slightly pink nose. Her skin is a little blotchy and he knows for a fact she’s been crying.

Harry's first instinct is to throttle Mike, assuming he’s done or said something to upset her. Before his eyes can even find her guard, Y/N’s hands are gripping at his thick biceps and she’s forcing him to look at her, for once desperate for his attention.

“Don’t do this, please!” She starts out flat begging, no build up and Harry’s dark brows are pinched together, utter confusion plastered on his face but she continues her frantic spew.

“I’m sorry for snooping at those photos, I’m sorry! But don’t punish Maria for my mistakes, please. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t make her marry him.”

Her tone of plea has Harry’s throat feeling tight, like a thick bubble has formed in his throat and he can’t swallow it. The fear in her words sends shockwaves through his body and the raw panic that swims in her eyes makes him feel sick.

He vowed he wouldn’t let her feel fear in his presence, that he would protect her through their marriage and he’s breaking his promises a week in.

“Y/N, stop,” he coos in the gentlest tone he can.

His hands reach up to clasp around her wrists and softly, he pulls them from his arms and keeps them in a hold of one hand, lowering them between their bodies so she rests her palms flat against his hard chest.

Her breathing stills; perhaps from realisation of their close proximity, perhaps in fear. There are small, dull bags beneath Harry’s eyes and he looks paler than usual.

For a brief moment, she forgets about Maria’s situation and wonders if he’s okay, unsure whether he’s eaten or not today, but the gravity of the situation sits heavy on her shoulders again and she’s thrown back in that state of panic.

“You really think I’d do something like that to you?”

His doubtful words are spoken in a hushed tone that’s just above a whisper and her panic drops a little, heart fluttering. Would he? Do something like that to her? Harry sighs tiredly, keeping his hold on her wrists and he soothingly thumbs across the soft skin.

“I found out this afternoon, and I was going to wait until tomorrow morning to talk to you about it. I had nothing to do with this, believe me,” he reassures her and she believes him, she does, but knowing he didn’t have a say in this matter and it’s still happening doesn’t make her feel any better.

The panic is rising again and she shakes her head, trying to rip away from his grasp but he holds her a little tighter and she’s staring up at him, those innocent doe eyes wide and watering.

“Maria’s a handful and she doesn’t think or care about the consequences of her actions. Uncle Romero decked her with an ashtray because she dyed her hair. What did she do a week later? Dyed it a brighter colour! She doesn’t care and he’ll hurt her and I can’t let that happen, Harry. Please, I can’t let that happen.”

He watches her in her whole glory for a fleeting moment; allows himself to wallow in her pity and fear.

It’s the first time she’s ever said his name to him and the first occurrence she’s shown such raw emotion other than fear in the two weeks they’ve been together.

It’s love, the way she speaks and begs for her cousin. An emotion full of fire and passion and fondness. It startles something in Harry’s gut and it’s like he struggles to address her properly, like he doesn’t want to risk never seeing her so herself again.

Harry opts for squeezing her wrists gently and bowing his head a little closer to hers.

“I don’t have the power to change things -- to decline the deal. Stefano is still Capo so what he says goes,” his voice is a strained apology and anger bubbles in his veins at the sight of a stray tear slipping past his girl's eye.

He’s furious at Stefano. For making Y/N cry or for stirring unsettling feelings in Harry’s stomach, he’s not sure, but he feels it and he knows what burning rage is. He bites it back, and isn't about to explode his frustrations on the poor girl.

“Stefano will be flying in for the meeting and he will be the one to decide, though it’s highly likely he’ll accept the deal. Salvatore has no doubt been down his throat about it,” he explains, his words dying off in a deep mumble but Y/N’s lips are still quivering.

“This whole thing has nothing to do with you or Maria. This is Nino’s way of trying to beat me, to earn the title as Capo. The only way he could take my place would be if he killed myself and Stefano. And it’s not something I’d ever put past him,” he admits.

Y/N doesn’t know what it is that has her keening into his touch, but she feels her heartbeat calm when he strokes his thumbs across her wrists. Her fear is very much prominent in the way she looks at him but there’s also an overwhelming amount of trust in her eyes that suggests she believes him and the look alone scares him.

It worries him what will happen if he can’t see through the silent promise of doing whatever he can to stop the marriage from happening.

“Come on, it’s late… let’s go to bed.”

He knows neither of them have it in them to show another ounce of verbal vulnerability so it’s not much of a shock to him when she agrees.

It also isn’t a shock to either when Y/N follows her nighttime routine as Harry brushes his teeth in the bathroom mirror, side by side for the first time.

Neither register the state of comfort and ease they for some reason feel as they unwind for the evening, not quite with it to realise the drastic change.

At least, not until Y/N’s getting comfy under the silk sheets she’s grown to appreciate and Harry follows after switching out the light.

Suddenly, crawling into bed together is what makes the situation really dawn on her and she takes into account his patience from just half an hour ago.

Harry’s in just a pair of plaid pyjama pants beneath the sheet and she’s facing him; eyes tracing the faint lines of his shoulder blades in his back under the dark light of the room.

She wants to test the waters a little further; she’s dipped her toes in the warm pool and now she’s ready to let it swim at her ankles, to allow herself an easy escape before she submerges fully into him, before the night bleeds into another day.

“I want to come to work with you,” she mutters softly before she can really process her thoughts because now that the words have spewed from her mouth, she regrets them.

Y/N most certainly does not want to go to work with him and she’s almost dead sure she’ll never want to either.

Harry frowns in the darkness of the room as he shuffles onto his other side, bleary eyes blinking to clear his vision to make out the outline of her soft features in the night.

He waits a beat, expecting a string of apologies to follow; begging him to forget about it. They’re both confused when it doesn’t, when the silence is more welcoming than usual and he nods slowly to himself.

He always said he doesn’t want his wife to feel trapped, like she has no sense of freedom. But he also doesn’t particularly want to expose Y/N to that side of his life, that side of him.

He supposes one day, she will see him for the monster he really is, and as much as he wishes to delay the inevitable, he’d rather her see him on his terms than by accident.

“If you go to sleep now, you can come with me next Thursday for a meeting,” he proposes, voice light but there’s an underlying timidness to his tone that Y/N doesn’t miss.

Something troubles her stomach, a warm yet uneasy feeling at the prospect of being surrounded by men like her husband, men she has no trust in and will likely scare her.

Y/N doesn’t say anything in return, too worried that her voice will betray her. Instead, she rolls over and closes her eyes; mood at ease and knowing he’s allowing her to attend a meeting instils a little more trust in the wavering faith she’s growing to have in him.

Sleep begins to roll over in gentle waves when a light heaviness sits around her midsection. She stills under the weight of his arm that slings across her middle and she hears the rustling of sheets as he shuffles closer, until she feels the heat from his chest radiating to her back.

Her heart is pounding but she doesn’t push him away.

It’s a start, Harry thinks.

//

The last time she was this nervous while staring at her reflection in the mirror was her wedding day. Y/N’s palms are growing clammy by the second, uncomfortable with sweat as she debates whether or not she should have the third button of her blouse up or not. She looks formal, important; like she runs a company and is about to head out for her meeting.

The reality of the situation is that she’s freaking out. It’s Harry’s men and Harry’s meeting that she’s about to sit in on. She’s been growing uneasy since she asked to go to work with him a week ago. A whole seven days of uncertainty and wanting to back out on her idea. But she doesn’t want to seem weak.

For the first three days after he said yes, it didn’t really register with her. She’s still shocked that he even agreed for her to come to work, convinced he’d laugh at her and say something demeaning like her father would.

Harry noticed her hesitancy as the days passed and without realising, she’s craved his presence and approval a little more since then.

She lets him hold her in the evenings when they sleep, even went as far as mustering up the courage and turning in his hold to snuggle into his chest last night. He knows why she did it; because she’s been worrying about today.

Neither of them brought the topic up since he first agreed, but Harry knows he probably should’ve reassured her before waiting until the last minute.

Now he’s watching her from the doorway of the closet. From his position, shoulder against the wall and arms crossed over his thick chest, he watches the way Y/N twists and turns to gauge her reflection, how she tucks her blouse in tighter before tugging it out to loosen it a little more.

“You look beautiful,” his gentle voice intends to coax her out of her bubble but instead, it pops it abruptly and gives her a startle.

With a hand on her chest, she turns around and catches her breath, cheeks pink under her light makeup and a nervous smile on her lips.

“Harry… you scared me,” she admits through a shaky breath.

She’s called him by his name several times in the past week, but fuck, if his heart doesn’t still leap when he hears it tumble from her lips. He offers an apologetic smile and unfolds his arms, stuffing thick hands into the tight pockets of his dress pants.

“Sorry,” he apologises. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You do look beautiful, though. Are you ready?” he asks, tone as patient as he can muster so as to not shove more pressure on her aching shoulders. Y/N lets out a shaky breath and nerves and fears rattle her body to her core.

She’s scared; terrified, really. The thought of being in a large meeting room with several merciless killers and Made Men is not a soothing flicker in her mind.

She’s positively trembling the entire ride to one of Harry’s warehouses. She’s picking at her nails and knuckles and her gaze is fixed out of the window.

In the week leading up to this, she’s been out a couple more times with Mike; showing her around to cute lunch cafes and even one or two quirky bookstores that had caught her eye as he drove her around.

Harry is yet to take her out on the streets of New York but she knows he’s busy and the more she thinks about it, the more uneasy she feels about the idea of him taking her out in public.

She doesn’t know if she feels safe enough around him to know that he’ll protect her if something were to happen. She knows if an attack is to happen on her, it’ll likely be when she’s with Mike, but she also can’t help but feel she has a bigger target on her back if she’s seen roaming the streets or dining in restaurants with her husband.

Harry makes no effort to comfort her from his seat beside her in the back of the slick SUV. His thighs are slightly parted, hands clasped and folded over his middle and she’s registered the bouncing of his knee by the way the leather seats shift under the slight weight of the movement.

The thought of him being nervous doesn’t even take consideration in her mind, not when she’s too worried about her own nerves, when he’s done these kinds of meetings all his life.

But Harry is somewhat nervous. While he’s attended these meetings since he was initiated at age twelve after stabbing a man twice his age in the throat, he’s never ran a meeting with a woman by his side.

He knows he’ll be questioned about her presence; why a woman of the mafia is attending business meetings when she has no place, but Harry also knows it’s a perfect opportunity for him to assert his dominance, for Stefano’s men to get a taste of what life will be like when Harry eventually reigns as Capo.

He doesn’t let her know that, or anyone else, for that matter. Instead, he keeps quiet. He knows she’s too in her head to notice his nervous jitters and if he’s honest, he’s not too sure how to comfort her without coming off too forward or scaring her.

If his Mother or sister were in her situation, he’d press a kiss to their head and hold their hand. His wife is a little different in their current state of relationship.

By the time the car is pulling up to a large, industrial looking building, her fears and worries are only intensified. It’s chic and modern, no doubt about it… but it’s also relatively out of the way from the rest of the public and the seven other cars parked warrant a little more fear than before.

Demetri rounds the car and opens Harry’s door. He’s been Harry’s driver for three years and knows to keep his mouth shut unless spoken to. It’s not something he’s learnt from chauffeuring Harry around, but from his time working personally for Stefano and Salvatore in their younger years.

He’s been working for the Dellucci’s for three decades and while he knows Harry to be a much kinder man than most, he knows that feeling of having a bullet in his knee much better.

When Harry steps out of the car with a polite thanks, Demetri gently limps across the back and opens Y/N’s door. He doesn’t make eye contact with the young woman, another thing he learnt from the Dellucci’s.

She thanks him politely, hands soothing down her skirt and Harry stands beside her, a silent look between the two and she takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back and raising her chin.

She feigns confidence like a pro, and for a second, Harry’s almost fooled. Almost.

With a hand gently hovering over the small of her back, Harry guides her through the glass doors and into the lobby. A guard stands to the left; tall and lean and build like a fucking brick house.

He’s got on a slick suit and a little earpiece tucked away. He nods his head in greeting at Harry and takes a step out of the way, allowing the two through. He doesn’t spare a glance at Y/N.

She can hear her heart thumping in her ears as her little heels click against the marble floors. The lighting is dim through the halls, several locked doors on each side as she passes them until they reach the very end.

Harry stands before her, his hand on the doorknob and without thinking, Y/N latches onto his bicep; out of anxiety, needing to feel him close to her, to know he’ll protect her.

He stills momentarily, giving her a slither of a moment to know he understands, and he’s opening the door. There’s quiet chatter in the room, seats occupied aside from two. Did they know she was coming?

She recognises a fair few faces; two of Harry’s uncles and the dark red hair of Brian from the wedding. He appears happy to see her; grinning from ear to ear as he approaches the couple.

Harry greets his best friend with a firm, professional handshake. Like they haven’t fucked the same girl at the same time while sniffing coke of another stripper’s ass. His gaze is fixed on Y/N, though and she feels a little uncomfortable, not used to being under the gaze of men so close to her age.

“Y/N, lovely to see you again,” he says softly, nodding his head with a soft smile in a respectful greeting and she appreciates the lack of physical interaction he offers.

Harry’s hand finds its way on the small of her back again at the realisation of several eyes on his wife.

Brian still can’t hide his grin. By the shy look on her face and how she holds herself under Harry’s touch, he knows she has no clue how much Harry’s been swooning about her. About how peaceful she looks when she sleeps, that she’s infatuated with reading books and scribbling little annotations in the margins.

She doesn’t know that he’s been cooing over the way she gnaws on her inner cheek when she’s nervous and Brian feels about ready to start teasing his boss.

He keeps quiet, though, when Harry gives him a look. A look that suggests that while he may have that little dirt on him, if he does anything to ruin any progress with Y/N, he’ll surely cut off his balls and force feed them to him. Brian knows the kind of man Harry is, so it’s not something he’d put past him if he did something to truly upset or infuriate him.

The meeting begins as Y/N and Harry take their seats. None of the men address the female elephant in the room as Harry rolls through numbers and names, what they’re owed and how they’re going to get the Mexican Cartel in their books.

Y/N barely manages to register any of what he’s saying, too busy trying to slow her heart rate and stop her fucking hands from trembling. It isn’t until Harry takes note of the lack of responses in the room that he notices all eyes are glaring or perving on his wife and a wave of anger and protectiveness rolls over him in mini tsunami waves.

Harry casually leans back in his seat, hands slipping from the table and onto his lap as he brings forward the topic of Luca Buevello and how he owes almost twelve grand. It’s when he reminds the men of their terms and conditions when handling deals that he slowly inches his hand closer to Y/N’s lap, and knocking the edge of his hand with hers, their pinkies lock together.

Her heart is thumping over the gentle weight of his hand in her lap, over the way his strong, calloused finger is linked with hers. Spooning every night doesn’t feel nearly as intimate as this; secretly holding pinkies beneath a table in a room full of Made Men.

Nonetheless, the feeling offers a large sense of safety and relief to Y/N; the silent admission is enough to tell her that he’s there, he notices her state of discomfort, and he’ll protect her.

She’s easing down now and slowly allowing herself to listen to what Harry’s saying about the terms, when an older, somewhat tubbier man speaks up before Harry can finish.

“No disrespect, sir,” he begins, knowing to address Harry in the correct way while he’s temporarily on trial as Capo.

“But why is your gorgeous wife gracing us with her presence?” he continues, leaning forward on his desk and in his position, the light falls on the balding spot at the top of his head as he licks his lips.

“Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be listening in on such violent business, sweetheart,” he jeers.

Harry’s stunned for a half second, like he can’t believe the size of balls this forty year old perv has. Harry’s seething through gritted teeth, a dark and dangerous chuckle falling from his lips.

“You’d do well to keep your mouth shut, Riccardo,” his lock on Y/N’s pinkie tightens just a little. “Who knows what we might catch.”

Y/N purses her lips and bows her head as she suppresses a smile at Harry’s insulting comment. She feels a little lighter through the rest of the meeting, shoulders relaxed and she doesn’t feel as small under the men's gazes anymore. She’s holding Harry’s pinkie as tight as he holds hers, a silent reassurance and thanks. One they both understand and reciprocate.

It’s something Brian notices as the meeting draws to a close; that Harry moves his hand from her lap slowly and their pinkies release their hold. It has a furrowed brow and squinted eye plastered on his face as Harry dismisses his men.

He leaves Y/N in her seat as he sees them through the door, Brian hovering until the end as he comes back in.

“I’ve called Mike, he’s going to take you back to the penthouse, I’ve got some business I need to finish, okay? I’ll call you if I run late,” he informs in a gentle tone, back to Brian as to offer at least some sort of privacy between the two.

Y/N nods with a small smile, doesn’t argue or push for details -- she doesn’t want to know and she’s too caught by the end of his sentence. I’ll call you if I run late.

“Okay,” she breathily replies.

“Harry,” Brian pipes up quietly from the other end of the conference table, arms folded over his chest and he nods his head to the door, gesturing for a private word.

He mumbles a ‘be right back’ to Y/N and follows his right hand man outside. Pushing the door, he raises his brows expectantly at the redhead.

“Bro, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to get laid and fuck all that pent up frustration out of your system,” he whispers through gritted teeth, smacking Harry on the side of his shoulder and the taller man can’t help but groan and roll his eyes.

Brian bounces on his toes. “Have you even slept with Y/N since the wedding night?” he pries.

Y/N knows it’s wrong, that she shouldn’t be listening to a private conversation. But when her name is spoken in a hushed tone between her husband and his best friend, she can’t help but feel at least a little intrigued.

The mention of their wedding night is enough to turn her mood sour and she can feel that familiar rumble of bile bubbling in her tummy again.

“Keep your voice down,” she hears him seethe through gritted teeth.

Harry shuffles uncomfortably in his spot and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing a hand down his tired face and shaking his head.

“We never fucked! I faked the sheets and she was too drunk to remember. I let her think we slept together,” he spits his secret through a whisper, face close to Brian as to stay as quiet as he can.

But Y/N hears -- she hears it all. She hears his admittance and she hears the white noise of everything else as it sinks in. He never slept with her. He never took her virginity. He never touched her. She feels light, like she’s floating and the impending, crushing weight of self hatred is no longer suffocating her.

She didn’t sleep with him.

She should hate him. Hate him for lying to her, for letting her believe she was drunk enough to allow him her body. Hate him for letting her hate herself. But she doesn’t, she can’t. All she can feel is free. She isn’t completely his, he didn’t take what is hers. That even in her most vulnerable state, he didn’t take advantage. That even when she was at her weakest point, he respected her.

It makes sense, now she knows the truth. How her thighs didn’t ache the next morning, that her core wasn’t pulsing and sore and she didn’t have bruises and marks littered across her hips and thighs. She feels stupid for not realising that the truth was always right in front of her.

“Are you serious? But you’ve been to the clubs since, right?” Brian pipes up again, arms across his chest like there’s no way in hell he’ll believe his friend hasn’t had sex for two weeks.

Harry shakes his head again with what Y/N deems as a pained sigh. “No, Bri. I’m a married man. Love between us or not, I won’t break or betray her trust,” he explains and while Y/N’s stomach flutters a little, Brian breaks into a laugh.

Harry frowns, can’t seem to understand what’s so funny.

“Sorry, bro… but you must be fucked if you think she trusts you,” Brian explains his amusement and it causes bolts of doubt to pile down Harry’s throat.

He knows it hasn’t been long, that he can’t ever expect her to trust him fully in such a short amount of time, but he hopes she knows he can trust his fidelity, at least.

His phone vibrates from his pocket and he doesn’t need to look to know it’s Mike telling him he’s outside. He glares at Brian, not uttering another word and upon hearing movement from the other side of the door, Y/N quickly returns to her seat, feigning nonchalance and picking at her nails.

“Mike’s here. He’s waiting for you outside,” his voice speaks gently and she nods, standing from her seat and soothing out her skirt again.

She notices the small hint of a rosy hue that sits on the apples of his cheeks and she feels like she’s looking at him in a completely different light.

She doesn’t see such an intimidating monster anymore. She sees a man that did what he had to do to protect them both, despite how shitty it felt. She knows what happens in the rare instance that a man doesn’t take his wife’s virginity on their wedding night. That she’s passed around between willing uncles and cousins until they are satisfied. She sees a man that respected her in her weakest and most vulnerable moments.

Maybe that’s what possesses her to reach on her tiptoes and press her soft lips to his stubbly cheek in a gentle kiss. Maybe that’s why she squeezes his bicep as she passes him and shyly makes her way down the hall.

Harry watches her walk away with a stammer in his chest and a light blush on his cheeks; ignoring the teasing snickers from Brian and he watches Y/N disappear with Mike, turning back to his friend.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word.”

//

His knuckles are aching; sore and swollen with gashes of blood soaking the torn skin. There’s a mass amount of adrenaline that rushes through Harry when he goes on a debt collector run. There’s an excitement to hear their fucked excuses, maybe a bit of amusement for the sadistic part of him that loves to hear them beg for mercy.

Tonight is no different. Luca Buevello, a known affiliate and person of business with the New York Famiglia. He’s been a friend of the Dellucci’s for years but as of recent, too focused on gambling away his life to pay back what he owes.

Smacked out of his head when Harry and Brian arrived, they’ve got him roped and bound to a chair in the middle of his pristine kitchen; splatters of blood coating the white floors and counter doors.

They’ve been there for two hours. At first, it was a chat; Harry having at least a thread of trust in the man for knowing his step-father for so long, but he soon grew ballsy, commenting on his marriage and how he’d like to know how his Mother tastes. That’s what got him tied up with a black eye, broken nose and a kitchen steak knife lodged in his thigh.

Harry’s breathing slowly, chest heaving with deep breaths and his shirtsleeves have been rolled up to his elbows. The last time he was dressed like this was almost two weeks ago when he and Y/N were cooking pizzas together.

Maybe that’s what’s got him so impatient. He doesn’t want to be making appearances in debt collections. He wants to be at the penthouse with Y/N, finding out what’s going on with her, what that fucking kiss means.

“I’m losing my patience with you, Luca,” he starts, leaning the palms of his hands on the edge of a counter.

Brian’s got that sadistic smirk on his face, fingers gripping Luca’s fucked jaw to force him to look at him with blurred vision.

“I was willing to give you more time, but you just had to open your fucking mouth,” he tuts, pushing off the counter and walking toward him.

Luca’s face is unrecognisable, bruised and swollen and matted with sweat and blood. “Now, I’m going to untie you and you’re going to unlock your safe with your little fingerprint and give me my money,” he explains the simple steps, standing behind the man with a knife to the ropes.

“And if you try anything funny, you know we only need your finger to get that money. I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself here, Luca,” Harry tantalises, knowing the older man has never liked the younger one.

He’s just like Salvatore, doesn't think Harry should rule as Capo with his traitor blood. He’s team Nino, if you will.

Luca makes a muffled noise of acknowledgement and Harry cuts the rope. Brian pulls it off his body and takes a few steps back, watching with squinted eyes. Harry’s got a hand fisting the back of his shirt, just by his neck, and he guides him through the kitchen and into Luca’s personal office.

He mistakes Harry’s willingness for stupidity and in a haste of movements into the doorway of the office, Luca tugs the knife from his thigh with a muffled scream and rams it into Harry’s side in one swift motion. He doubles over in pain, grip on Luca faltering but Harry’s quicker, stronger than Luca anticipates.

Luca’s hand is still on the knife, trying to jab it deeper into his side but Harry grabs his wrist in a vice-like hold and tugs, twists it backward and breaks his thumb and wrist in a single snap. Luca falls to his knees, screaming and cursing profanities as Harry pulls the knife from his side and drags it across his throat in a quick slit.

Thick blood pools from the sharp incision as his body plummets to the floor, lifeless but still twitching. Harry’s breathing is heavy, groaning as he falls back against the door frame.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his shaking hand pulling up his torn and bloody shirt and blood is oozing frantically from the wound.

“Brian!” He calls out gruffly, hand applying pressure on the wound and the chirpy redhead bounds around the corner; coy smirk on his lips but it falters and his shoulders sag when he notices Harry’s state.

“I leave you for two minutes,” he mumbles through a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He’s about to slice off Luca’s finger, unlock the safe and get the money, but Harry shakes his head, trembling hand pulling away from the gash in his side and he’s not sure he’s bled so much from a knife wound before.

“What the fuck? A little steak knife did that?” Brian quips, kneeling slightly to get a better look at the gash but there’s too much blood for him to actually see anything.

Harry shakes his head and pushes his shirt back down, maintaining the pressure. “I think he cut into a healing scar and it split,” he seethes, head bashing back against the wall as he bites back the flurries of pain.

//

It’s a painfully slow drive back to the penthouse. Harry’s laid out across the backseat while Brian drives, eyes on the road but his mind is focused on reminding Harry of what will happen if he bleeds all over his custom leather seats. Harry’s too busy trying not to bleed out to think of a snarky reply.

His mind is a little too preoccupied. He promised Y/N he’d call if he was running late and now it’s nearly 02:00 AM and he’s bleeding out in the backseat of his best friend's Maserati.

His phone is too wedged in his pocket and he can’t muster up the proper energy to call her or Mike. Besides, he supposes she’s asleep and he doesn’t want to wake her.

He’s groaning in discomfort, feeling woozy and lightheaded when they pull into the underground garage. He’s been hurt worse in the past; shot, stabbed, tortured, burned, but he took the knife out and the position of the knife tore into soft scar tissue of an old wound.

Brian holds his entire weight into his side as he punches in the code to the penthouse, both their suits are splattered in Harry’s blood. When they get inside, Harry can’t keep himself up, even with Brian’s support. Maybe it’s because he’s lost so much blood, or maybe it’s because he knows he’s home -- that he doesn’t have to be so alert anymore.

He falls straight into the dining table, chairs knocking over and in his delirious state, he sees Mike come flying into the kitchen with a gun in the air, eyes wide when he notices Harry’s state.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Mike seethes under a whispered breath, shoving the barrel of his gun down the back of his pants and rushing to Harry’s side.

Between the two of them, they manage to get him to the couch, shirt torn from his body as Brian raids the kitchen for hard liquor and a first aid kit. The frantic rummaging and knocking of furniture is what disturbs Y/N from her slumber. She stirs awake, brows furrowed in a sleepy state of confusion until another thud is heard from the kitchen with several deep, laboured grunts following.

She freezes in the middle of the bed, straining her ears to hear past the white noise of the quiet home. She hears it again.

“Fuck!” her heart is stammering and the noises continue. What if someone got into the penthouse? What if someone’s hurt Mike? Where’s Harry? Y/N’s mind runs on overdrive and she’s in that fight or flight situation.

She doesn’t even think as she reaches for Harry’s side of the bed and lifts the mattress just enough to retrieve the handgun he keeps there in the nights. The weight of the weapon sits heavy in her quaking hands but she swallows down her fear and checks the magazine is full.

She tiptoes to the door, eyes stinging with tears but she blinks them back quickly. If there is an intruder and she’s in danger, she can’t let tears cause a clouded vision. She can’t be stupid.

Light on her feet, Y/N sneaks out of the bedroom and follows the sounds. It’s not until she’s creeping down the stairs that she realises the rookie mistakes she’s probably making.

She didn’t check her phone to see if Mike or Harry texted her to hide, she didn’t call Harry to tell him what’s happening. She doesn’t do anything that will protect her apart from gripping the gun tighter.

She’s never held one of these before, let alone shot one, and she wonders if even in her alert, sleepy state, she’d have the guts and will power to shoot if she needs to. Wonder if she’ll be able to stand behind the bite of the shot and if the noise isn’t too deafening.

Y/N reaches the bottom of the stairs, creeping closer but her heartbeat sounds louder in her ears than the grunts do. It’s when she creeps the corner that the gun she’s raised lowers and a choked sigh slips from her lips.

“Oh my God,” she whispers shakily, gun dropping to the floor in a clang and she doesn't realise the safety’s been on the entire time.

Harry’s on the couch, a pool of his own blood smeared across his lap and on the oak floors. His shirt is stained red, shredded and thrown to the floor. Brian’s disinfecting the gash in the side of his abdomen, dotting the area with cotton balls and Mike sits to his other side, sterilising a needle with thread.

Her gaze catches him and he stares with wide eyes. The look of horror and shock on her face has Harry feeling sick, can’t believe he was stupid enough to have Brian bring him back to the penthouse, to inevitably set her up to see him in such a state. Y/N’s slowly making her way over, limbs weak and trembling as her legs carry her satin pyjama clad frame closer.

Bile is rising in her throat at the sight of him and he offers a weak smile. She hates that even in this state, he’s trying to reassure her, pretending that he’s okay. Y/N doesn’t know if she’s thankful or resentful -- does he really view her as such a frail child? Like she can’t deal with a bit of blood and a stab wound?

“I’m fine, it’s just a little blood,” he tries to ease her but it’s more than a little blood.

She keeps watching as Mike brings the needle to the skin, piercing through with no warning and Harry throws his head back with greeted teeth; seething profanities and the sight has something shifting in Y/N.

She shouldn’t be staring at his ripped torso, the way his sweat is letting his tanned skin gleam under the soft light of the lamp across the room. She shouldn’t have a certain feeling gnawing at the pit of her stomach at the sight of his thick Adam’s apple bobbing, or the way his jaw tenses when Mike pierces the skin again.

She shouldn’t feel that tingle and throb between her parted thighs.

Her toes are wiggling against the oak floors, fingers twitching and Harry rolls his head back down; his chin meeting his chest and he’s staring up at her through his dark lashes. He notices the flush in her cheeks from across the room; the way her nipples have pearled against the silky material of her cropped satin cami.

He notices the way her thighs clench subconsciously before she runs back upstairs, and he’s left getting stitched with a semi and the knowledge that she’s undeniably dripping under those baby pink satin shorts. 

//

Harry enjoys a lot of things in life; the sunshine, fresh sheets, a cool beer at the end of a long day, and that overwhelmingly, indescribable feeling of sinking into a tight, soaked pussy at any given opportunity.

He’s been deprived of the latter for too long. Y/N’s been in New York for five weeks now, which means Harry hasn’t gotten his dick wet in seven.

He figured it’d be easier than this. That getting himself off in the shower or late nights in his office to a dirty porno would do the trick, but it hasn’t. He’s aching in his slick dress pants this morning, rubbing sleep from his eyes despite already being up for two hours and having showered.

Usually, he likes to think he’s perfectly gentlemanly when it comes to sexual wants and urges; that he can refrain from the need of sex there and then but he very clearly underestimated himself. He’s not entirely sure where this shift in his hormonal control has come from.

Lies.

He knows exactly what’s got him so pent up and frustratedly hung. Y/N, and the sight of her soaking through her baby pink satin shorts. Harry doesn’t want to admit that seeing her perky nipples pearl through her camisole was enough to give him a semi -- thinks he’s a little manlier than that, but tits are tits and he’s starting to grow needy.

Harry knows he needs a proper release soon, not one brought on by his hand or a dirty picture. He needs to bury himself deep in a tight little cunt and pound until his heart's content. But his head is stuck in another, equally frustrating rut.

It’s been three weeks since the stabbing and that damn kiss she planted on his cheek. She hasn’t spoken to him much since she caught him bloody on their couch with Mike stitching him up.

He doesn’t know if it’s because it scared her to see him hurt and it reminded her of what he’s capable of… or if seeing him like that made her doubt wanting to open up to him, push her away from growing closer.

He doesn’t know and it’s beginning to grate on him.

She’s said a total of seventeen words in the past three weeks (yes, he’s counted), and he’s a little worried. She hasn’t asked to attend anymore meetings, if she should still cook him dinner for when he gets home. She hasn’t asked anymore about Maria’s arrangement and he’s worried.

If only Harry allowed himself to look a little deeper at the situation. Because while seeing him bloody and beaten was a shock to the young woman, that’s not what drove her away, no.

What pushed her back from any more cheek kisses was the warm, melting sensation between her thighs at the sight of his sweaty chest -- the clouded thoughts and naughty shivers that ran up her skin at the sound of his grunts.

Y/N feels ashamed and embarrassed, but he doesn’t know that.

She’s tried to avoid him since that night -- no longer cuddling into him when they sleep or trying to wait up to see him for a few moments when he comes home. She’s been isolating away from him, trying to compartmentalise her thoughts about that night and the knowledge that he didn’t actually sleep with her, while also preparing herself for her family’s visit.

She thinks he hasn’t noticed her sudden withdrawal, but he has; figures she’ll talk in her own time. Harry’s not quite ready to push her away some more.

Her nerves for today have become her primary thought, though. She’s way too nervous about being in her father's presence for the first time in five weeks to push Harry away.

She knows they both need to be on their game today in case something happens, which means she needs to bite the bullet and address the situation, or at least, the effects of it.

Dressed in a mauve, midi wrap dress, her sandalled feet carry her from their room and into the kitchen. Harry watches her enter from his seat at the kitchen table; takes note of her loosely curled hair and how pretty and shy she looks.

She stops just in front of him, hands crossed at the front of her body and she rocks back and forth softly on the balls of her feet. She clears her throat as Harry sets down his coffee and turns to pay her his full attention.

“My family are visiting today,” she says in a casual tone, eyes focused on her pink painted toenails.

Harry dips his head with slightly squinted eyes, tries to see her face. “I know,” he plays, voice teasing and she looks up at him with a deep breath, hesitancy swimming in her eyes. Harry doesn’t move.

“And we both need to be with it today and not focussing on anything else,” she continues. She’s still toying with her fingers and Harry can’t help his deepening frown.

“Y/N,” he coos, “what’s going on?” He watches her take a deep breath and unclasp her hands, looking at him full on and Harry notices the pretty specs of lilac glitter on her eyelids.

“I’m sorry for being so distant the past few weeks,” she admits. “It’s just… after seeing you on the couch like that, it scared me a little and I didn’t know what to do, so I just distanced myself. I’m sorry.”

She leaves out the part where she got incredibly turned on by the sight of his glimmering chest and she hopes to God he buys her partly true admission. He does, or rather, lets on he does, and nods his head.

“It’s okay, I know that must’ve been scary for you,” he notes, leaving out the part where he knew she was dripping the entire time.

He waits a beat, like he’s trying to figure out where she’s wanting to take this conversation but he doesn’t have to think much before she’s speaking again.

“And um, well, about the kiss,” she chuckles nervously, cheeks heating in embarrassment and shyness.

Harry’s not sure if she’s about to tell him she regrets doing it, or apologise for overstepping boundaries. He doesn’t give her time to choose, too busy holding her clammy hands in his rough palms and tugging her a little closer to him. His knees are spread on the stool and she fits between them, unintentionally holding her breath at the closeness.

“Y/N, listen to me for a second,” he begins, massaging his thumb across her dainty knuckles and she nods, swallowing down her nerves.

“I know this marriage isn’t conventional, and I know neither of us got to marry for love. But it’s still a marriage and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me or in your own home. We’re together, until death does us part… I’d like for us to be comfortable around each other, to have some form of relationship,” he admits.

There’s something about the way he words it that stings a rattle in the pit of her stomach. We’re together, until death does us part. Y/N doesn’t think she truly realised the gravity of her living with him in New York.

This isn’t just some agreement where she can return home after a couple of months or years. This is her life now, her life until her dying breath.

Part of her wants to hate him for it, wants to scream and cry because she won’t have control over her future. The other part of her, the more logical part, takes it in its strides. In that part of her mind, she figures that if this is to be their lives now, they should make work what they can. They should be open with each other and allow a bond to form a connection.

Harry may choose to sleep with other women (not that she thinks he will after overhearing his conversation with Brian), and that will be okay. Y/N doesn’t have that option to meet other men and have affairs and she doesn’t want to be miserable in Harry’s presence.

She wants to feel comfort and lightness when they’re alone together, and wants to have a small smile on her face when his name is mentioned. She wants to know him at least a little bit. Someone she can trust and count on and talk to. She needs a friend, not just a husband.

But maybe she doesn’t want just a friend. Maybe she wants that kind of intimacy that she craves with him. Maybe she wants to be able to kiss his cheek when she likes. Maybe she wants him to kiss hers, too.

Harry’s in a similar boat. He knows he’s got it easier than her. That if he truly pleased, he could go to his whorehouses and fuck the night away. But that’s not the man his mother raised and he wants something with Y/N; something platonic or romantic, he’ll let her make those calls, but he wants something exclusive with her and her only.

He squeezes her hand, notices she’s deep in thought. “We need to communicate with each other, though. If you want to keep distance between us, that’s okay. And if you want the little touches and kisses, that’s okay, too. You were forced into this marriage, Y/N, but I won’t force anything else upon you.” Her hands are warm in his hold and she lets his words maul over in her mind. He’s right, she knows it. And for once, someone’s putting her first.

“Fear has no place in a marriage, Y/N. Not with me.”

//

Her nerves are eating at her insides, even after she threw up her breakfast once they arrived at one of Harry’s offices. It’s a different building to the one she accompanied him for the meeting a few weeks ago. It’s the same look, though; modern and chic and out of the way.

They’ve been waiting for almost two hours, spent the past 45 minutes of that time stuck in the same room as Stefano, Salvatore and Nino. Y/N’s been close to Harry’s side the whole time, doing her best to coil into herself under Nino’s discomforting gaze. He’s been staring the whole time; evil glint in his eye and filthy smirk on his lips.

Harry knows she wants nothing more than to punch him in the throat for proposing to marry Maria but she also knows she doesn’t have the guts and she has to be polite in the presence of other people. She’s tucked in Harry’s side; her arm looped around his and he takes it upon himself to intertwine their fingers and she squeezes it appreciatively.

There’s a constant silent understanding between them now, so it seems. A promise to have each other's backs and offer comfort and support when they know the other needs it. Y/N wonders if Harry will ever need hers.

Silence ticks away in the spacious room and it isn’t until Y/N hears commotion from down the hall that she moves in her seat. She peers to her side, looking through the window in the door and mousy brown hair catches with traces of pink catches her eye.

Y/N’s jumping from her seat before Harry can even make sense of what she’s doing. She doesn’t care that Stefano is likely glaring at her husband for not controlling his girl, or that Nino is likely getting a good look at her ass as she jumps up. All she cares about is Maria.

She sprints through the door and down the hall, eyes blazing with hope and their bodies crash into one another. Limbs are tangled in a frantic hold and Y/N can feel a warmth flow through her being, having the chance to be with her cousin again.

Maria is sobbing into the junction between her neck and shoulder; dampening the skin with salty tears but Y/N doesn’t mind. She’s close to tears herself and she doesn’t want to let go. She tells herself that Maria is safe in her arms but she knows her frail hold could barely save her from what she’s being condemned to.

Harry watches on solemnly. Though she’s sporting a sniffling nose and watering eyes, this is the happiest he’s ever seen her and when he watches her pull away, he’s engorged by her smile. Bright and heavenly, her brief happiness beams through the hall and Harry feels an odd sense of nauseating nostalgia -- a feeling he doesn’t come close to understanding.

For a moment, his heart flutters and he forgets about the situation at hand. He nearly forgets about his Familgia, about the mafia. All he can think is what he said this morning, of how bad he actually craves a relationship with his wife. He watches her smile falter when she sees her father and that gut instinct in him wants to pull her close and protect her from every man and woman that’s ever hurt her.

Harry makes no attempt to shake the feeling.

Instead, he entertains the idea of a real marriage with her in his head. He lets his mind wander to thoughts of loving her, getting to know her, of allowing her to love him. When her smile slips completely and she’s left with a frown, Harry makes a silent promise to himself that he will be the reason behind her next honest smile.

He’s always been open to love and the idea of it. Though he doesn’t much remember his father, he remembers the love he and his mother shared. He remembers having it instilled in him and Gemma even after Danny was gone. He remembers the words his mother used to promise him every night.

“Love is never a weakness, Harry. It’s the most painful thing you could ever endure, but it gives you a strength you never knew existed.”

He knows he doesn’t love Y/N -- knows better that she certainly doesn't love him and that’s okay. He thinks maybe one day, he could, but gaining her trust in the present is more important. Not for love, but for her.

Harry feels himself instinctively take a step closer when Bruno and Giovanni stand before his wife. He notices the way Y/N’s shoulders tense at the sight of them and her father pulls her into a timid and unwelcoming embrace.

She feels frozen in his hold, like she’s trapped again and her body is completely stiff. She can’t lift her arms to offer a warmer embrace and she honestly doesn’t want to. Y/N hopes Harry is watching, that he’s got an eye on her father and he’s ready to protect her if he needs to.

Harry does watch and his stomach bubbles. He hasn’t seen her this tense since their wedding night. He knows he shouldn’t, but he feels an odd sense of pride that he’s been able to encourage her to relax in his presence. But it doesn’t make the sight of her fear any less painful to witness, just because he’s not the cause of it.

He watches with squinted eyes as Y/N shifts in her dress uncomfortably. Giovanni’s lips are close to her ear but Harry can’t make out what he whispers -- he just knows it’s something cruel. Y/N pulls away from her father and her arms protectively wrap around herself.

Harry can see how she coils into her frame; making her look much smaller than she is as he bounds over. He’s sure he notices a flicker of something in Giovanni’s eyes as he meets the young Dellucci. Harry hasn’t got it in him for fake pleasantries. He stands in front of Y/N to shield her from her family's prying eyes.

Maria smiles shyly at Y/N as she hears them mumble their relief of being in the other's presence, when Giovanni reaches for Harry’s hand. He offers a firm greeting but his father-in-law takes it further and reaches forward, subtly leaning up on his own tiptoes as to reach Harry’s ears.

He feels his thick, musky breath on his neck and Harry tries not to grimace. “If she was still under my roof, she wouldn’t be seen dead wearing a dress so revealing to a family meeting.” Bruno is smirking from behind his father but Harry sees nothing entertaining about the situation.

His vision is dithering and he doesn’t know what he’s more offended and disgusted by: his demanding and controlling tone about his wife, or the sheer audacity he has to talk to him like that. Harry’s grip on Giovanni’s hand tightens like a vice and he knows the older man is struggling to stifle his groans under the crushing grip.

Harry snickers a hum, like he’s feigning agreement. “But she’s not under your roof, and Y/N can wear whatever the fuck she wants.” Giovanni tears his hand from Harry’s, eyes dark and swimming with absolute fury. He doesn’t expect for Harry to defend his daughter and the threatening tone he uses is taken as a challenge.

Giovanni straightens his jacket and stretches out his fingers -- popping his knuckles. Neither say a word to each other as the two Saccaro men saunter past Harry and into the meeting room. Y/N’s Uncle Romero follows close behind, keeping his head down and Harry thinks he’s the wisest out of the three.

Y/N is hovering behind him still, eyes glossy and fingers picking at her nails. A sense of safety washes over her when their eyes meet and she wants to reach out to hold his hand, to thank him, but she knows now is not the time. He’ll no doubt be the talk of California when her family returns home and she knows he needs to keep his hard facade up.

Instead, he offers a tight lipped smile and nods his head ever-so-subtly. She appreciates the acknowledgement and lets him guide her into the meeting room. She’s tucked beside him through it all, eyes focussed on her twiddling fingers or her fidgeting cousin.

She can’t really focus on anything that’s being said but whenever she hears Harry’s voice, she holds onto it. She doesn’t really take in what he’s saying but she lets his voice ground her, offering that piece of safety and reassurance.

Her fingers are busy tugging at the hem of her dress; trying to pull it further down her thighs when she feels Nino staring straight at her.

She doesn’t need to look up to know his eyes are zeroed in on her rounded chest and Harry catches on just as quickly. He allows for Stefano to take over, to discuss the terms in which this marriage would include. Harry reaches blindly for her hand and tugs it away from her dress.

She looks gorgeous and he isn’t about to let a comment from her father make her feel anything less than that. He intertwines their fingers and Y/N forces herself not to look, to keep her eyes on her cousin. Her heart spasms when she feels him lift their hands and his soft lips press a gentle kiss to the back of her palm.

She tries not to make it known that she’s choking on her breath and she knows Nino witnessed the display of affection and she wonders if that was Harry’s intention all along. To make him jealous? A silent warning to back off? She doesn’t know but her body is ignited in a welcoming sense of warmth.

She can’t focus on the legalities of the situation that Romero and Salvatore discuss. Nor can she focus on the comments Nino makes or how Giovanni and Bruno snicker like school children. All she can focus on is the turmoil in her head that he just kissed her hand in front of a room of other notorious mobsters.

It’s when Harry’s thumb starts to run smoothly over the divots of her knuckles that she feels herself swoon. She’s overwhelmed. He’s trying to make her feel safe and comfortable; something no one has ever done for her. She’s too caught up in her inner monologue of what this all means, that she doesn’t hear Harry’s voice raise as he tries to fight against another arranged marriage.

What she does hear, and what does snap her from her oblivious state, are a stack of papers that smack against the oak table and the faint scribble of Romero’s signature whizzing across the paper. Y/N’s frantic eyes dart between made men as her heart kicks up a fuss. That once comforting warmth is now a sweltering heat she can’t seem to bear.

Her eyes find Maria who looks all too calm and composed for her situation. Y/N swears she notices a hint of a smile flitter on her lips and she feels sick. She knows her hint of excitement is all for Nino’s looks, but Maria doesn’t know the type of person he is. She wants to scream at her to run, to never look back, but nothing comes out.

A hand squeezes hers and she looks to her side in search of Harry. His lips are pursed and there’s a hint of something she hasn’t seen before that swims in his eyes. Regret. Regret that he couldn’t stop the arrangement, that nothing he said or did was good enough to sway either party involved. Another part of him knows it’s not his fault. Stefano is Capo and therefore, his say goes.

Y/N looks away, can’t bear to look at her husband and see the same nauseating look in his eyes. She does, however, squeeze his hand back gratefully for his attempts. She knew not to get her hopes up, but she still feels like her spirit and soul have been shattered. Even being married to one of the most powerful Made Men of today’s society doesn’t protect your family.

“Then it’s agreed,” Nino smirks. “Maria Saccaro will be my wife.”

Y/N’s blood boils and she rises to her feet as hands are shaken across the table. She rests her hand on Harry’s shoulder as she stands, leaning to bring her lips to his ear.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” There’s anger and spits of venom laced in her raging voice and he can’t say he blames her.

He watches her leave the meeting room with squinted eyes before Bruno is leaning over to shake at his hand.

“Where’s she running off to?” he asks, but Harry knows better than to tell him anything. He scoffs at her brother and tightens his grip.

“Your sister hasn’t been a concern of yours for a long time. Don’t try that big brother bullshit with me now,” he warns.

He shoves Bruno with the force of his shoulder to greet Maria properly. Her eyes are a little wild, like she’s trying to process what’s just happened. She eyes him sceptically as he reaches for her hand in an open palm. When she sits her trembling fingers in his grasp, he closes his other hand above hers.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop this,” he admits lowly as to not attract the attention of his family or hers. Maria doesn’t say anything and Harry doesn’t expect her to. Instead, he nods in a respectful way and is pulled out of the office with everybody else.

It’s Stefano that shakes his hand next, a gleaming smile and a sweat-dotted hairline. Harry frowns at the precipitation that sheens on his ageing skin.

“That’s how it’s done, boy,” he grins wickedly, like he hasn’t just condemned a young girl to a lifetime of misery with his psychotic nephew.

“Why are you sweating so much?” he asks with a grimace.

Harry chooses to ignore the comment he makes back and pulls his hand from Stefano’s clammy one. He wipes his now damp hand down his dress pants and eyes his step-father. He’s pulled away by Salvatore before he can answer and Brian is swooping in to his friends side, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“That went well,” he notes.

Harry rolls his eyes at his choice of words and clears his throat. “As well as an arrangement can go with the Saccaro’s, I suppose.” Brian scoffs, nudging his shoulder.

“You say that like you’re not married to one of them,” he snorts. Brian’s leaning on tiptoes, known for being one of the shortest, in search for the aforementioned woman.

“Where is she anyway? You know Mike’s not with her, right? Too busy ogling over her cousin.” Harry follows Brian's direction of a head nod and finds his wife's guard standing off to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets but his line of sight is strictly on Maria who looks all too lost and like she’s searching for the same woman Brian is.

Harry sighs. “She’s in the bathroom. Needed to cool herself down after that shitshow. Can you blame her?” he mumbles, shoulder brushing against Brian’s as they stand offish to the side. He hums, agreeing with his superior and rocks slightly on the balls of his feet.

Harry’s eyes are fixed on the corner that rounds to the bathroom and he’s beginning to get a bit impatient. She’s been in there for nearly ten minutes now. He’s been too caught in what Brians been saying and keeping tabs on Mike that he hasn’t noticed Giovanni sauntering off in search of his daughter.

Y/N comes shuffling out of the bathroom when she notices her father waiting outside for her. The second their eyes meet, he’s shoving her into the wall and a finger is being pointed in her face. Her face is stricken with fear and she’s shuddering beneath his tall figure.

She tries to push him away -- to slip out from his grasp, but he’s grabbing her wrist and forcing her back against the wall. “You listen here, you little bitch,” he’s seething through gritted teeth. She can’t comprehend what’s happening. She doesn’t understand.

Y/N hasn’t done anything to warrant a punishment. She doesn’t understand that he’s taking his frustrations from Harry out on her. Giovanni isn’t a silly man. He knows he won’t stand much of a chance in a quarry with Harry, but he has his daughter to take his anger out on. He blames her, anyway. Harry wouldn’t have spoken to him or tried to break his hand if his daughter wasn’t acting like an insolent whore.

In a fit of fury and bravery, she rips her hand from Giovanni’s hold. She thinks if she’s loud enough, Harry will hear her and save her. How pathetic, running from one man just to beg for help from another.

“I’m not your property anymore,” she spits, but her moment of resilience is backfired as Giovanni raises his fist in an attempt to beat the respect back into her.

She cowers to the side when his fist kisses her eye and a sharp yelp cries from her lips. Her mind is frozen but her body is in shock. In the month she’s been away from him, she’s forgotten the painful impact behind the bite of his blows. She hasn’t been hit in two months and if she’s honest, she thinks that’s her longest streak.

Y/N’s shaking, chest rattling and she’s on the verge of hyperventilating. She feels like she’s stuck in her bedroom in California; screaming and begging for someone to take her away as he punches and kicks. She thinks this is about to be the same way -- that her father will bruise her black and blue to teach her a lesson.

But Harry’s growing impatient waiting for her to return. He’s rounding the corner as Giovanni takes a step away from the entrance to the bathroom, and that’s when he sees her cowering against the wall with an angry red cheek and mascara-smudged eyes. Y/N’s sobbing, holding her cheek, and neither her nor Giovanni notice his presence.

He goes to raise his hand again but Harry’s tackling him into the closest wall with a hand around his throat and another on his gun. He’s seething, fucking spitting through gritted teeth at the balls on this dude. Giovanni’s got a sick grin on his lips and Harry really can’t believe his eyes.

“What?” Giovanni croaks. “A month with you and she forgets how to respect men?”

Harry’s forcing an iron fist into the side of his face at the comment, ignoring the sharp sting that throbs in his side. Blood splattering from Giovanni’s nose and mouth to the opposing wall and Harry’s almost certain he’s torn his stitches. Giovanni spits at the floor, head rolling back to grin filthily at the younger man.

Y/N’s still stuck to the wall, watching everything unfold. Her hand is still close to her face as she cradles her blooming bruise but she can’t take her eyes off Harry. The commotion of it all attracts the attention of everyone else and Maria is gasping at the sight of her cousin.

She tries to reach for her, to coddle her and attend to her bruised face but Y/N doesn’t look her way and a firm hold on Maria’s shoulder stops her. She doesn’t need to look to see it’s her father holding her back. Brian’s got a hand on his gun, just like Stefano and Bruno do.

Mike’s watching it all unfold, horror seeping in his eyes at the sight of Y/N hurt. He knows this is his fault -- that he should’ve just followed and waited outside the restroom for her. Knows he should’ve been doing his fucking job properly because now she’s hurt and Harry’s angry.

“Touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking throat out,” he warns through gritted teeth, spit hitting at Giovanni’s face and he smashes the back of his head against the wall for extra measure. He shoves off him, biting back the dull pain that aches in his side and turns to Y/N.

His eyes manage to block out the glares of confusion and glints of light that reflect from drawn guns. His main priority is attending to Y/N and chewing Mike out. He knows it’s not the guards fault but he has to make it known that incidents like this can never happen again.

There are many things Harry won’t stand for, and violence among women is one of them.

“Meeting adjourned, go catch your fucking flights” he mumbles.

He doesn’t care for the lingering looks of judgement from their families as he wraps an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and lets her coddle into his side. He ignores the confused glances and whispers of disapproval from Stefano and Salvatore.

Y/N keeps her face hidden from sight, knows she’s got all eyes on them and she wants to scream, coil into herself. Her father hit her, her brother watched, and her husband defended her honour. What kind of family was she born into?

//

It’s been hours.

Stefano flew back to England after the incident, claiming he didn’t feel too hot and the Saccaro’s hopped on their jet back to California. Harry’s been left with the mess to clear away paperwork and a shaken-up wife.

She’s sitting on the kitchen counter, thighs parted in her flowy dress as she watches Harry rummage through the freezer. They haven’t uttered a word since they left the warehouse and Y/N did well at pretending she didn’t hear him tear into Mike over the phone when they took a couple detours so he could put things in place.

He’s wrapping a bag of frozen peas in a thin dishcloth as he makes his way back over to her and she struggles to breath in his presence again. Harry stands between her thighs, peas in one hand while the other reaches up to brush her hair from her face to get a better look at her eye.

It’s swollen just a little but there’s a dull, purple marking that’s starting to stain the skin.

“This is gonna sting a little,” he warns in a soft tone.

She lets him raise the clothed peas to her face and gently press the frozen fabric to her eye. She winces at the foreign feeling and he coos, keeping her softly in place.

Her eyes flutter open to look back up at him. His brows are knit in a gentle frown and she can feel his warm breath fanning across her face; mint and cinnamon. He brushes hair from her eyes again and Y/N decides that out of all the men she’s ever known, ever met, he’s by far the kindest.

No man has defended her like him. No man has threatened her father for her.

Maybe it’s because the situation has finally had a chance to sink in and she’s grateful, or maybe it’s because what happened opened her eyes to what she wants and what could be. She doesn’t know, but something wills her to drop the peas and lean forward until her soft lips smear against his.

Harry’s eyes are wide in slight shock. He gives her a couple of seconds to pull away, to take it back -- but she doesn’t. So he lets himself sink into her touch and kiss her back, just as soft and tenderly. It’s as innocent as their first and last kiss, on their wedding day, but so much more is said behind it.

She pulls off him bashfully, cheeks tinted pink as she clears her throat and blinks down at her hands.

“Thank you,” she breathes.

Harry’s eyes are glued to her partly-shielded face and his hands reach for her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Y/N’s eyes are wide, lips plump and glossy. He kisses her again, lips parted as he envelops hers. She hums against him, lips closed and he licks at her bottom one, coaxing them open. When her mouth parts the slightest, his tongue slides against hers.

Harry’s got his hands on her hips as he takes the lead of the kiss, allowing her hesitant tongue to explore his skilled one. Her own hands are trembling against his chest at the new form of intimacy between them but she can’t get enough. His taste and touch is intoxicating and she wants more.

Harry’s no better; his heads swimming and he’s trying to will himself not to fucking ruin her there and then on the kitchen counter. She’s sweet on his tongue and it’s fogging his senses. One hand leaves her hip to grip at her thigh and he manages to coax them around his waist, tugging him impossibly closer so he can smell her sweet perfume.

Y/N wants to tell him that she knows. Knows what he really did on their wedding night, that he faked the sheets. That while she remembers what he told her that night, she doesn’t fear him. That she knows he didn’t mean it. That she knows he will protect her.

She thinks she’s got the courage to tell him, to open up and learn who he truly is but there’s a harsh vibration coming from beside them as his phone rattles on the counter. He pulls away from her with a groan, lips swollen and pink and Y/N looks royally fucked and flushed.

He makes no effort to look at the caller ID and opts to answer it anyway, bringing it to his ear.

“It better be important,” he mumbles harshly.

His hand is kneading the fleshy skin of her hip above her dress and Y/N takes the moment to catch her breath.

“Harry,” he hears a breathy voice shudder across the other line. His brows furrow and he stands straighter. His eyes leave Y/N’s as he focuses on the wall behind her, blood running cold.

“Mum?” He treads carefully.

“It’s Stefano… he’s dead.”

Harry feels sick. He can’t focus on Anne’s insistent cries or Y/N’s pleading looks. He can’t let himself ravish in the sight of his wifes swollen lips and hooded eyes, or worry about his mother’s frantic state of urgency.

All he can hear is white noise and all he can feel is a biting numbness. He knows what this all means; that he is now Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia but he can’t focus on that right now, either.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think or feel. He can’t make sense of anything.

“Mum, stop,” he mumbles, hand pinching at the bridge of his nose and Y/N’s dipping her head to get a better look at him, to chase his gaze and find out what’s going on.

“Are you okay? Is Gemma okay? Are you safe? What happened!?” he asks frantically and while Anne confirms their safety, her sobs become a drilling in Harry’s ears and he can’t take it.

“Mum, just stop!” he raises his voice.

Harry tries to ignore the way Y/N flinches away from his sudden outburst. In his current state, though, he can hardly bring himself to actually care.

“Stay where you are and do not call anyone. I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before she has the chance to argue and his phone is shoved back in his pocket.

His hands find purchase in his unruly locks as he twists on his heels and seethes through gritted teeth.

“Fuck!” He’s red in the face, punching a hole into the closest wall and Y/N’s watching with wide eyes and trembling lips.

She slips off the counter, bare feet cautiously padding closer to him and she bravely sits a hand on his shoulder.

Harry spins to face her, vision clouded with anger and confusion. He can’t wrap his head around what’s happened. He saw Stefano just a few hours ago and now Harry thinks about it, he was acting oddly -- sweating and panting.

But he got home to England and now he’s dead? Now Harry will have to reign as Capo, and as much as he’s wanted this and he’s ready… he never thought it would happen this way.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Y/N speaks up softly, voice trembling and he has to remember she’s scared and vulnerable.

He takes a shaky breath and cups her jaw in his palms, dipping down to kiss her lips. She welcomes it briefly before she’s pulling away in confusion and curiosity. If she’s honest, she’s never seen Harry act so wildly before and not knowing the reason behind it is scary.

It doesn’t matter that she trusts him more than before now. She still needs to know.

“Stefano’s dead. I have to fly out to England,” he explains through a strained voice. Her eyes are wide, jaw slack and she’s sure her heart just stopped.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she breathes as she takes a step away from him. Her fingers are tangled in her hair, breath shallow as she paces nervously.

If Y/N knows anything about random deaths of Made Men within the mafia, it’s that they’re never random and are always planned and thought out by another. Stefano isn’t just dead. He’s been murdered.

No matter how much her family tried to shelter her from the Mafia life, she knows things about these types of situations -- a situation her family dealt with when her grandfather mysteriously died five years ago.

She knows an investigation will be undergone by the newly reigning Capo and if it shows that Stefano died in Anne’s presence, he’ll be expected to execute his mother to prove his loyalty to his men and his title, to his step-father's honour. Harry knows it, too. Maybe that’s why he’s so torn.

“I’m coming with you,” she blurts out, hands falling to her sides and Harry watches her, sceptical as she takes a step closer to him.

He’s shocked by her sudden outburst and he’s about to fight her on it, to assure her that Mike will be here to keep her safe when he’s gone. But this isn’t just about her safety.

She wants to be there for Harry’s support, to offer guidance and reassurance of her own. She wants to be there to prove to Harry that he can trust her, that she wants to be there to console and support his mother and sister.

“I’m coming with you,” she repeats and Harry doesn’t argue.

Neither of them hang around long enough to pack bags or set a plan in motion. Instead Harry kisses her feverishly and takes her hand in his.

He’s guiding her to the rooftop when his private jet lands and he’s calling Connor and Mike to give them an update. He keeps his composure, save for swears of anger when he gets on the plane but Y/N thinks she knows better.

His knee is jittering and he’s gnawing at his inner cheek. She can see a thin sheen of sweat that coats across his tanned skin and he taps his fingers in a frantic rhythm against his knee cap.

He can’t get out of his head. He’s now officially Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia and he thought owning the title he’s worked so hard towards would feel better than this.

Harry can’t help but feel he’s cheated his way to the top, despite having nothing to do with Stefano’s death.

He knows Y/N feels like she’s treading on eggshells as she watches him from the seat opposite his. He knows she’s worried about him, about his family, about what will happen now.

But she doesn’t say anything and he’s thankful for that. He’s thankful and overwhelmed that despite her bruising eye and uncertain anxiety, she’s worrying for him and silently reminding him that she’s here and waiting when he’s ready.

Harry’s never experienced anything of the sort before and he tries to remind himself that he most certainly doesn’t deserve it. But he’s selfish when it comes to her and he doesn’t plan on changing anything about that.

Y/N doesn’t want to overstep boundaries by asking what’s going through his head, by offering physical, emotional support. But Harry still needs it, so without voicing his desperate desires, he reaches forward for her hand and encourages her to stand from her seat and take the empty one beside him.

He guides her to intertwine their fingers and rest her head on his shoulder as he kisses the top of her hair.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures her in a gentle whisper and she nods, offering his hand an understanding squeeze and he lets out a breath of wanton relief.

//

There’s a car waiting for them when they arrive at the deserted landing strip not far from his family's mansion. He helps Y/N into the highrise of the SUV and gets in the driver's seat. The night is dark as they drive the lonely roads to his mother.

Y/N’s got her gaze fixed on the trees that whizz past her window and Harry’s had no choice but to stop jittering his knees as he drives.

She doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to put him further in his head and she knows nothing said will put him at ease until he sees Anne and Gemma. It’s not until now that it dawns on Y/N that she’ll be seeing her in-laws again and the throbbing of her eye reminds her of her current state and what they’ll think when they see her.

Anxiety is eating at her insides but she doesn’t let it show, she can’t. The focus right now is on Harry and his family and she will not take that away from him. She knows he’s never liked his step-father but it doesn’t make losing him easier. Or maybe it does, but with the current circumstances, nothing is easy right now.

It’s another twenty minutes before Harry is pulling into a gated home after his finger unlocks the biometrics. The house is huge; three stories and castle-like. There’s a little pond on the left side of the front of the house and two big Range Rovers off to the right. She swallows back the nerves as Harry parks the car but neither of them get out for a moment.

Y/N thinks she should wait for Harry to make the calls but right now, he’s a bit too in his head. He hasn’t been to this house in over five years and he's not sure how he’s going to take the sight of his step-father's dead body or his mother’s broken soul. He’s not stupid -- he knows his mother has never loved Stefano, but she’s scared and lonely and he’ll protect her and his sister over anything.

After a couple minutes of gaining his bearings, Harry clambers out of the car and rounds the front to help Y/N out. His hands cup beneath her arms as she steps down onto the ground; her hands bracing herself on his shoulders and he closes the door behind her. She’s peering up at him as he frowns at her bruising eye, thumbing softly against the skin and she tries not to wince under his touch.

“Stay close, and if you have to: run,” he warns with a lingering kiss to her forehead. She watches him tug the gun from the back of his pants and lets him gently shove her behind him. They’re sneaky as they make their way through the unlocked door. Y/N’s too alert to properly admire Anne’s home -- the chandeliers and high ceilings and windows. She’s too scared to take in the chic furnishing of her surroundings.

It’s silent as Harry creeps closer inside, knees bent and gun cocked to the ground but ready to be aimed. She’s thankful she changed her heels for a pair of flat pumps before they left for England. A desperate whimper is what catches their ears and she half expects Harry to falter his movements, but he doesn’t. He raises the gun and races through the hall and into the kitchen, Y/N following close behind with an erratic heart.

She watches with wide eyes at her surroundings. Stefano is dead on the floor -- foam smothered across his mouth with trails of blood that have pooled beneath his head. Her eyes find the owner of the whimpers and Gemma is trembling to her left. She’s hunched over a  cream couch that sits opposite a fancy fireplace.

“Oh my God…” Y/N can’t help the whimpering mutter that slips from her lips, and the sound of the familiar voice causes Gemma's head to perk up. Y/N doesn’t notice Anne sat emotionlessly at the kitchen table, but Harry does and he regards the older woman with caution. Gemma breaks into fits of uncontrollable tears upon seeing her brother and with all the energy she can muster, she jumps up and crashes into his arms.

Y/N doesn’t see him hold her close to his chest and coo at her. He refuses to look at the body, unlike Y/N who can’t fucking look away. She’s too fucking frozen looking at the dead body at her feet to hear the breathless and frantic mutters of “he’s gone, he’s finally gone,” that Gemma repeats against Harry’s chest. He’s trying to calm her erratic state, eyes on his mother and her wanton stare.

It’s when Gemma pulls away to take a breath that she also notices Y/N’s presence, and even through her bleary, blurry-eyed vision, she can make out the stricken horror and dark bruise painted across her face.

“Y/N!” she shrieks, shoulder knocking against Harry’s and she’s making for her sister-in-law.

The sound of her name breaks her from her trance and she opens her arms for the younger girl, welcoming her embrace and offering a sense of reassurance and comfort. Y/N coos as she smoothes down her matted brown hair and keeps her close. Harry’s heart quakes at the sight of his wife coddling his sister and he takes a deep breath, turning away and he’s reminded of how intimate they were just hours before this.

Anne still hasn’t said a word and Y/N thinks she gets the hint that she doesn’t want to talk about it around her daughter. She swallows her shaky nerves and pulls Gemma away at arm's length. “Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?” she speaks, guiding the older girl away before she can blubber out questions about her eye.

When Harry’s certain they're out of sight and ear-shot, he pulls the seat beside his mother and sits. “What happened?” he asks lowly.

Anne still makes no attempt to look away from the table, and it isn’t until now that Harry notices all the food that’s been placed on it. They were halfway through dinner and by the position of Stefano’s body, it looks like he dropped dead during the meal.

Anne swallows. “I drugged his scotch with rat poison.” His eyes land on the half empty scotch glass and he takes in a deep and shaky breath. He’s cursing in his mind for the massive clean up he’s going to have to deal with as his first priority as Capo. He shakes the thought and pulls her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head when she lets her cheek rest on his shoulder.

Harry knows she’s never been happy with him, that she never loved him, or even liked him, for that matter. He knows the pain and heartache both she and his sister have had to endure for all these years and he wishes to God it was him that had the balls to off him years ago. But he’s proud of her. Proud because it’s the bravest and most strongest thing she’s ever done.

“I’ll cover it up, okay? I’ll get in contact with Riccardo and he can forge the autopsy. Once everything’s sorted, you and Gem are coming back to New York with Y/N and I, okay?”

He walks her through his plan and how it’ll work and Anne can do nothing but nod and sniffle back the tears of relief. She knows why she waited so fucking long to do this -- she didn’t want Harry to have to deal with the mess and the fights.

But there’s only so much a helpless woman and her daughter can take before one of them snaps. She’d rather have murder on her conscious for the rest of her life than on Gemma's.

“How is she?” Anne asks when she finally pulls away.

She’s reaching for her glass of wine and takes a sip, twisting in her seat to look at her son a little better. It’s been a few weeks since she last saw him and being apart for so long is making a bigger effect on her than she first anticipated. He keeps changing and she can’t keep up.

Harry watches her drink her wine with slumped shoulders and visibly lighter eyes. He knows they don’t have time to chit-chat right now, but he entertains her anyway.

“I saw the bruise…” She continues, brow raised but Harry takes no offence -- she’s not implying anything, she knows he’d never lay a hand on his wife, or any other woman unless they posed as a threat.

He scoffs and shakes his head, reaching for the port of whiskey and eyeing his mother skeptically. She shakes her head and he reaches for her bottle of wine with a chuckle instead.

“Giovanni paid a visit. Not letting him near her alone again,” he grunts, taking a long swig. Anne nods in understanding and takes a deep breath as she eyes her son.

“Are you okay?” she finally asks.

He knows it’s more than just a motherly check-in. She’s not just asking if her son is okay -- she’s asking if her son is okay after being forced into an arranged marriage with a woman he didn’t know. For a moment, they both forget the dead body that lays lifelessly slumped on the floor and neither of them hear Y/N’s soft feet pad down the stairs and carry her toward the kitchen to get Gemma some water.

But the sound of Harry’s voice causes her to stop beside the staircase. “It’s hard, Mum. I know she’s never felt safe in her entire life and I can feel how much she’s relaxing around me. I know she doesn’t trust me -- not yet -- not after what I let her believe happened on our wedding night,” he takes a breath and rubs a hand over his face.

Anne’s got her eyes on him and she can see the turmoil and uncertainty painted across his face. She can see the gears working behind his eyes and the fear and anxiety is damn near transparent. Y/N’s heart is hammering in her chest as she cowers behind the wall. She feels sick with herself, listening in on his private conversation but she needs to hear this just as badly as Harry needs to admit it.

“I want her to trust me. I want her to know that I’ll always respect her and what she wants.” She feels tearful and light -- like she’s floating and can finally breathe clearly for the first time in her life. She’s always known Harry was a genuine person, but hearing him speak so soft and fondly of her without knowing of her presence, stirs something deep inside of her.

No one has respected her like he has. No one has shown her common, human decency like he has and she feels stupid for feeling so grateful and happy, but she is. Y/N takes a moment to compose herself before letting her feet heavily carry her into the kitchen slowly, clearing her throat to make her arrival known.

Harry watches her with soft eyes as she grabs a glass from the counter and fills it with some tap water. He notices the way her bruise seems angrier in the light of the kitchen and Anne places her wine down, standing to greet her daughter-in-law. She rounds the kitchen island and hugs the girl comfortingly, allowing her fingers to ghost over her eye and cheek.

Y/N visibly keens into her shoulders a little with a shy, nervous smile. “I’m okay,” she says. “Just a little accident getting out of the shower this morning.” She tries to pass it off and Harry suddenly feels a little sick with himself. He didn’t think that maybe she wants to keep what happened as a secret, that maybe she’s embarrassed by it.

Anne nods, makes no attempt to throw Harry under the bus and she hums. “Oh, I know all about those shower incidents.” She tries to make light of the situation but Y/N can’t help the sadness she’s overwhelmed with at her confession and she’s willing herself to ignore the body. Anne is quick to sense her discomfort and takes a step back.

“Is Gemma okay?” She changes the subject.

Y/N nods with a shaky breath, a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips, thankful for the switch in topic.

“She’s calmed down a little, yeah. But um…” her eyes glance over to Harry and back to Anne. “Is there somewhere else you guys can stay for the night? I can’t imagine you’re going to want to stay here and it’ll look too suspicious if you come back to New York with us before his um… his… you know… is announced.”

Anne’s lips part at her consideration and she thinks Harry’s got himself a little angel. Harry’s starting to think the same and all he wants is to grab hold of her pretty face and kiss those plump lips and tell her over and over again thank you, thank you, thank you.

He waits a beat, decides if his idea is something he can truly share. But he looks at Y/N and he feels light and warm and he wants her to know about this, wants to share it with her, too.

“How about the old house?” Harry suggests with a raised brow and Y/N’s furrow slightly in confusion. Anne feels her heart thumping in her chest and she knows going back to that house is exactly what she needs right now.

Maybe it’s what they all need, to go back to the house they used to live in. The house that Harry learnt to walk, where Danny taught him to talk and where Anne felt loved and safe. When Danny died, the house was handed over to Harry and he kept it in his name for years, hiding it from Stefano and claiming it was one of the safe houses he had.

It was never a lie. It’s always been a safe house. “I’ll make a few calls and we’ll go.”

//

Harry’s pulling up to the house with a shaky breath. It’s small, compared to the home they were just standing in and as Y/N leans forward in the passenger's seat, she can feel her heart swelling. It’s beautiful. She can tell Harry’s kept a frequent gardener because flowers have been blooming and tended to, and she feels dizzy knowing she’s about to embark on a part of Harry’s childhood.

Harry leaves the car first and opens Gemma’s door who was sitting behind him. He beats his mother to open her door and then he helps Y/N out and down to the ground, closing the door and hauling Gemma’s bag over his shoulder. “What is this place?” she asks tiredly, arms around her arms in the brisk, British air.

Anne smiles softly, heart full and her eyes are welling with tears at the sight of the old house. “Home,” she tells her. She fiddles with the keys in her hand before she leads the others to the front door and unlocks it. It’s dark and cold and Harry reaches in to switch on the light and mess around with the thermostat while Gemma and Anne take in their surroundings.

It’s the same since she was last here, Anne. The old school furniture and late 90’s wallpaper. A sense of comfortable nostalgia washes over her when she sees old photo frames sitting on the fireplace and she bashfully sheds a tear at the photo of her late first husband. She feels safe, comfortable as she sits on the couch and pulls Gemma down to sit with her.

Harry’s been here enough times in the recent past to have come accustomed to being back in the house. He’s kept a close watch on it, making sure no one tried breaking in or vandalising the property like Danny's old places were after he died. He’s been here enough to keep things clean and working in the event they needed to run, and while he did up the two spare rooms, he didn’t have it in him to change his parents or his childhood one.

While Anne shows Gemma around the house, Y/N is frozen by the entrance. She’s yet to step foot in the house and she feels like she shouldn’t -- that she shouldn’t be here, intruding on something so private and family oriented. She might be Harry’s wife, but she isn’t their family… not really.

“Hey, what are you doing out there?” Harry finally asks when he realises the chill is coming from the open front door.

She’s gnawing on her inner cheek, hands on the doorframe and he frowns. “I just -- I don’t want to intrude,” she explains. Her tone is shaky and vulnerable and Harry won’t have any of it. He grabs her wrist and gently tugs her inside, closing the door and allowing her to warm up a little.

She feels like she shouldn’t look around, like she’s out of place in a far too personal home. She knows she’s wanted Harry to open up to her but this feels too much, like he hasn’t actually had a choice in the matter. “Hey, communication, remember?” he pipes up softly, thumb under her chin to get her to look up at him.

Her breathing catches in her throat for a moment and she blinks, wanting nothing more than to lift up on her tiptoes and kiss his lips again. She doesn’t know what any of this means between them; the kisses and the touches. She doesn’t know how he feels or what he wants and the uncertainty of the new situation is killing her.

“Just a little overwhelmed,” she admits and she thinks Harry believes her, but he knows her better than to believe that’s all that’s bothering her.

He nods, though, locks the door and intertwines their fingers to tug her through the house and up the stairs. She follows blindly and silently, too in her own head to notice the toothless baby pictures of Harry nailed to the walls.

He ushers her in a double bedroom, closing the door behind them both and sighing as he switches on the light. There’s not much character to the room and Y/N supposes it’s been used as a guest room since the past. The walls are bare and tan, a double bed standing against the left side wall with night stands either side. It’s cosy, and the bed looks a lot smaller than hers and Harry's back in New York.

She turns around to see him digging through a dresser, tugging out two t-shirts and a pair of sweats. He offers her the grey t-shirt and she takes it with a timid smile, rolling on the balls of her feet and he raises a brow.

“Do you have any shorts? Kinda don’t wanna sleep in my thong,” she admits bashfully. She notices the way Harry tries not to groan at the thought, or how he’s gnawing on his inner cheek and forcing his body to not grow a bulging erection.

She stifles a laugh at his reaction, a blush sitting on her cheeks but she doesn’t feel as nervous as she would’ve before today. Being as intimate as they were earlier has allowed her to relax more than usual in his presence and about the ideas of being sexual. But maybe the only thing stopping her is not knowing what will happen if she trusts him like that. Does he want to grow to love her? Will he let her grow to love him? Because she thinks she already is.

She cares for him, more than she’d admit to anyone else and maybe even him. The idea and realisation of it all scares her, but what has she really got to lose? She’s got him for the rest of her life.

Y/N dresses in the bathroom like she usually does every morning and night. When she comes back out after brushing her teeth with a new toothbrush she found in the cabinet, Harry is sitting on the edge of the bed, changing the dressing that wraps around his middle. The wound has healed a lot, skin scarring over but he has to be careful as to not tear the stitches again.

He watches her throw her dress and panties on the dresser and he swallows thickly. The last time he saw her wearing his clothes was their wedding night when he dressed her drunk ass and waited until she was asleep before he got in bed with her. Now, five weeks later, she’s in his boxers and a t-shirt, willingly crawling into bed to cuddle up to his chest. His heart surges at the progress they’ve made and he’s suddenly overly eager to have her in his arms.

Harry throws on a shirt once he secures his bandaging and crawls into the bed. His arm is outstretched, ready to welcome her in after she switches off the light and clambers into his good side. Her head sits on the junction between his arm and chest and her arm wraps around his middle as she settles into his hold.

It’s quiet for a few moments, darkness swarming them both and they can hear the muffled sounds of the tv down the hall that Gemma is no doubt watching in her room. Y/N wants to ask him if he’s okay, see how he’s feeling about the situation. And she thinks she’s built up the courage, but he speaks before she can.

“This was my dad’s house. I grew up here,” he rasps into the darkness.

Y/N feels her tummy coil from the amount of trust she’s about to be given. “When Dad died, the house was put in my name and I hid it from Stefano. He found the papers once, almost clicked on that it was mine and Mum’s home but I told him it was a safe house and the fucker believed me.” Harry squeezes her tighter without realising but it only encourages Y/N to coddle into him a little closer.

She doesn’t say anything — too afraid that if she asks any questions, he might not be so open about this. Instead, she stays quiet but she thinks Harry notices her inner turmoil because he starts to scratch at her scalp and kiss at her hairline.

“I learnt how to walk and talk in this place. Mum and Dad used to cook together every night and I remember Dad sleeping on my bedroom floor whenever I had a nightmare or couldn’t sleep,” he reminisces. Harry’s rubbing smooth circles across Y/N’s arm and she hums, barely taking in his words.

When she raises her head to look up at him, she’s got a lovesick grin on her face and she’s reminded of the way he consoled his little sister and mother, and how he held her close while he kissed Y/N’s lips so passionately. She’s reminded of everything he’s done for her -- of how much he’s protected and cared for her and she thinks her heart has grown three times its size.

“Why are you so kind?” She blurts out in a strained voice.

Her neck is craning up to get a better look at him and Harry dips his head so his chin sits against his chest, a smile on his lips as a soft chuckle rumbles in his throat. He doesn’t think he’s a kind person, but rather a respectful one to women and those who deserve it.

Y/N seems to read his thoughts and she adjusts her position so she’s kneeling beside him on her side; hand on his chest and her finger trails absent patterns through his shirt. “Don’t laugh like that, you are,” she tells him with a little more vigour. Harry’s reached a hand behind her body to rub soothingly at her back and he settles his laughs to hear her out.

She blushes. “You’re the first person to ever show me a shred of kindness and respect,” she begins in a shaky tone. Her fingers begin to tremble and Harry reaches for it with his free hand -- intertwining their fingers and offering that encouraging squeeze she’s been growing accustomed to.

Harry thinks his black heart is breaking at her admission and suddenly, holding her hand isn’t as close as he wants to be. He releases his hold and reaches up to cup the side of her jaw. He eases up to graze his thumb across her bruised cheekbone and she flinches under his featherlight touch. Harry has to remind himself she does it because of the pain and not because he’s touching her.

He swallows back the need to apologise but makes no effort to remove his hand. “I will always be kind to you and show you respect. You’re my wife, Y/N. A marriage is a team, not a contract,” he promises. Y/N can’t help the roll of her eyes or the scoff that teeters off her lips in an ironic laugh.

He can’t help but grin at the sound. 1 - 0 to Harry. He got her to laugh.

“This whole thing is a contract,” she reminds him and he can’t stop staring.

The lightness of her eyes is pulling him in and he thinks he wants to see that smile on her face every day for the rest of his life. “It doesn’t have to be,” he finds himself mumbling and neither of them say anything -- they both know what he means and upon the promising possibility, she reaches up to connect their lips.

It’s better than their last kiss and Y/N wonders if it will always be better with every intimate moment they share. Their lips are enveloped by the others and her hand crawls up his chest to cup at his stubbly jaw, pulling him closer. She’s confident as he licks up and into her mouth, massaging his tongue against hers in a sinful dance.

It doesn’t take long before he’s rolling her onto her back and slipping between her parted thighs. Harry’s got both hands pinned on either side of her head to support his crushing weight above her. Y/N’s thighs knock and rub across his healing wound but he doesn't care -- he’ll take whatever she’s comfortable enough to offer.

Her fingers are tangled in his messy curls as she tugs and pulls at the hairs. He’s groaning inaudibly into her mouth as she gasps into his. Harry lets one hand wander down her shoulder and over her chest, groping a tit in his wide palm and massaging and kneading the fatty flesh over her (his) t-shirt.

He doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s chest presses to his when her back arches off the bed and he can feel her nipple pearling under his touch. She’s panting when he rolls the hardened nub between two fingers and lets his plump and warm lips smear down her neck in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Harry,” she lets out a wanton, breathy whine when his lips suckly soft bruises into the skin behind her ear.

He’s frustratingly hard in his boxers and he can almost smell Y/N’s wetness. He’s about to trail his hand down her stomach, to cup her through his boxers and let her get a taste of what he can give her, but she catches his wrist in a light grip and shakes her head.

Harry pulls out of her neck breathlessly. He expects to see her with wide eyes and a frantic stare, maybe even quivering lips. But he gets the opposite. He’s greeted with calm waves of excitement that wash over her eyes and her mouth is parted, eager for more but she’s refraining herself.

The sight causes Harry to frown in confusion.

“Not here, not yet,” she swallows. “I want to, but… not now,” Y/N tries to explain.

Harry doesn’t know what more to do than nod his head and move his hands to her waist, respectably, and kisses her swollen lips. He’s full of complete and utter adoration for his little angel and he knows she’s right, she’s always right. But that's not what he’s focussing on.

“When we’re home,” she decides for them both.

It’s those three words that send his heart on overdrive and mind in turmoil. When we’re home. When we’re home. When we’re home. The first time she’s ever called it home. Harry nods, pecking her lips as he bites back a smile.

“When we’re home.”

//

By the time she awakes, she’s alone and cold. The bed is empty on Harry’s side and she doesn’t realise that he replaced his body that she was cuddling with a pillow when he awoke an hour ago. Y/N’s stretching with a wide smile on her lips, and even though she’s chilly, she’s giddy with warmth from the memories of the night before.

She makes her way out of the room, pads of her toes soft on the carpet as she descends the stairs. It’s warmer as she enters the kitchen and she’s greeted with the wafting smells of pancakes and bacon. Gemma is sitting at the table digging into her food and Anne notices the girl's presence first from her position at the stove.

She raises a brow at her daughter-in-laws sleep attire, a knowing grin on her lips but Y/N doesn’t notice it. Her eyes are focussed on her husband. He’s off to the corner of the room, head down and hand stuffed into his suit pocket. He’s dressed and ready for the day and he’s holding the phone to his ear, muttering quietly.

Y/N fights back the blush of happiness that rises to her cheeks and she greets Anne, leaning against the counter while she flips another pancake. “Silly question, but how did you sleep?” she asks. Anne is visibly lighter in her mood as she makes breakfast and there’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes, something Y/N’s never seen in her before.

She flips the pancake again, smoothing down the old, tatty apron that Y/N doesn’t know Danny used to wear every morning. “Like a baby,” she tells her with a firm smile. The sight of her happiness warms Y/N’s heart and Harry joins them back in the kitchen frown set in his brow and his wife regards him cautiously.

Anne seems to sense his confusion without even looking at him. “What’s wrong?” she asks, dishing up a plate for Y/N and starting on Harry’s pancakes. She takes her plate from the woman but she’s too concerned about the look on Harry’s face to worry about food, despite what her stomach is telling her.

“That was Riccardo…” he starts, leaning forward on the counter. “He did the autopsy on Stefano at the house, was ready to fake the results to cover us,” he begins to explain.

Anne hums, refusing to make eye contact as she pours the batter into the frying pan. Harry’s eyes are flickering between her face and her movements. “And?” she asks, eyes still not meeting his.

He swallows. “Didn’t you say you laced his scotch with rat poison?” His words pique the curiosity of Gemma and she’s no longer got herself much of an appetite. Y/N’s got her eyes on Harry, like she’s trying to understand what he’s about to tell them but she’d never be able to prepare herself for the truth.

“Because he said he found large traces of Penicillin in Stefano’s blood from nearly six hours before his death…” Anne stills her movements, almost dropping the spatula in her hand as she stares at her son, eyes wide. “There’s no sign of rat poison,” he concludes, brows still furrowed tightly and Anne's shaking her head.

There’s confusion and unspoken fear in the air as the Anne struggles to take in what her son has said. “What? But he’s allergic to Penicillin… and he was in New York with you six hours before…” she’s trailing off at the end of her sentence, shoulders slumping and chest heaving.

It’s like the realisation of the untold truth weighs heavy on all of their shoulders at the same time. They’re all racking their brains back to six hours before his death -- when he was in New York, in the meeting, with the only person Harry can think of that wanted Stefano dead more than he, and it clicks.

“Nino.”

//

In her pretty yellow ditsy dress, Y/N is positively sweating from her seat at the dining table. Harry is sitting beside her, same solemn expression and dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. It’s 10 am and he hasn’t styled his hair -- in fact, he’s nervous as hell and in three short hours, he’ll be faced with the ceremony that will initiate him as Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia.

The laptop is set up in front of them, the reflection of their nervous faces staring back at them. It’s been a week since the night of Stefano’s death and four days since they’ve all been back in New York. Gemma and Anne are currently staying in the penthouse with Harry and Y/N, and neither of the latter two have slept soundly since.

Harry’s been on edge since Stefano’s death was announced. He’s been watching his back more than usual, like he’s waiting for Nino to strike down on him, too. He spoke with Salvatore to announce the news and Harry wonders if he suspects him or his son.

He’s heard nothing from his cousin or other members of the family. What he has received is a date and a location from Dante. The time and place of Harry’s coronation. The coronation where he will bleed and bind himself by duty and honour to the Famiglia and Dante himself. Where he will be marked and crowned as the youngest serving Capo known.

In the four days they’ve been back in New York, Harry has kept Y/N closer than before. Neither of them have left the penthouse since their arrival home but he’s gone as far as restricting her from using the balcony as precaution. He isn’t prepared to endanger or lose her.

She understands, of course. And while she doesn’t appreciate the lack of little freedom she had before, she’s thankful and she listens. He isn’t being paranoid, he’s being cautious. Harry isn’t the only one that thinks it’s Nino and Y/N will be damned if she lets her husband be played by him. She’s on his side, always.

“Hey!” A chipper voice is what breaks the pair from their distant monologues and they focus on the brown-haired beauty that is Maria Saccaro. The tips of her curls are barely pink anymore and she’s taken out the majority of her piercings. Y/N almost doesn’t recognise her in her cream sweater and light makeup. She looks younger, innocent.

She frowns. “Hey, Ria. How are you?” Y/N greets her cousin with a timid tone and she can feel Harry squeeze her thigh from under the table.

That’s another thing that’s had time to progress in the past week: their affections. Kisses and cuddles and holding hands at any opportunity -- even in front of the eyes of Anne and Gemma. The one thing they promised each other is the one thing they haven’t yet managed to do. But maybe that’s for the best. Now she’s thought about it, she’s not quite ready for that.

Maria shrugs with pursed lips and shimmies closer. Y/N can tell she’s sitting on her bed with her computer propped on her lap by the string of fairy lights wrapped around the metal rods of her bed frame. “I’m okay.” Y/N frowns harder. There’s something off about her cousin and it’s unsettling.

Harry clears his throat and leans a little closer into the frame. Maria hasn’t yet acknowledged his presence but Harry doesn’t take offence.

“Listen, we need to talk to you about this arrangement with Nino,” he says.

Y/N pries his hand off her thigh and intertwines their fingers in a show of support and reassurance.

The pair notice Maria’s shoulders visibly sag and the spark in her eye from when the papers were signed is completely gone. Y/N can sense her disgust and nausea on the topic and she squeezes Harry’s hand absentmindedly.

“Now that Harry’s Capo, we’re gonna try and find a loophole to get you out of this. We know you think Nino poisoned Stefano, too. We’re gonna stop this wedding, okay? Harry and I will find a way.”

There’s a flicker of silence that washes over them and both Harry and Y/N know Maria isn’t telling them something. She’s oddly quiet and reserved, like she’s swallowing back a lump of detrimental secrets.

“Maria?” Y/N asks, brows furrowed and head slightly tilted.

The young woman on the computer screen lets out a shaky breath and scratches at her eyebrows, lips pursed and Y/N can tell she’s gnawing on the skin. “I need to tell you something,” she admits in a worrisome tone. She’s never acted so oddly when sharing secrets with Y/N before and she’s starting to wonder if it’s because Harry is there, too.

He thinks the same but makes no attempt to excuse himself.

“I met someone.”

There’s another wave of silence that washes over the three and while Y/N is quivering in fear of the repercussions her cousin will have to face, Harry is squirming at another coverup he’ll have to forge after his initiation.

But Maria isn’t looking at Harry with pleading eyes that beg for forgiveness. She’s staring at Y/N instead, with a look on her face that cries for acceptance and understanding.

“Maria…” Y/N breathes, eyes closed and she’s gripping Harry’s hand much tighter than before. Her cousin is spluttering on the other end of the call and shuffling closer to the camera in an attempt to have her listen.

“I know, I know… but it’s not what you think!” She quickly tries to defend and Harry can’t believe his ears.

Y/N scoffs and neither of the other two have ever seen her act that way toward Maria.

“Oh, really? Then what is it, Maria? Huh? What is it? Tell me, because I can’t keep trying to cover and protect you, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”

Harry’s eyes are glued to his wife, slightly wide and glossy. He doesn’t know why he has the urge to let a tear shed at her dismay but he blinks it back and steadies his heart. His and Y/N’s knuckles are burning white from their tight grip on the other and they seem to need a better, grounding safe code that won’t break their hands.

Maria stays silent for a moment longer. Her head is bowed in self-disappointment and she knows Y/N’s right. But Maria’s serious this time. It’s not what it looks like.

“I met a girl…” she swallows, eyes fluttering nervously to the couple and they regard her with stone expressions but their eyes are drowning in confusion and curiosity.

Y/N can see how she’s trying to stop her bottom lip from trembling relentlessly and she’s wringing her hands out in her lap.

“Maria…” she whispers softly.

Her voice holds nothing but concern and sincerity and she wants to hold her cousin and never let go. Maria chuckles wetly and she sniffles back tears.

“I know, I know. Surprise, I’m gay,” she tries to joke but she blubbers into her hands instead.

Y/N’s crying with her, frustrated and angry at the world they live in and Harry feels sick to his stomach. He knows the kind of shit that happens to homosexuals within the tight confinements of the Mafia and it’s been something he’s disagreed with since he understood what gay meant. Since the beliefs that same-sex love is wrong were forced upon him at a young age.

“Who is she?” Harry speaks softly and both pairs of Saccaro eyes are on him. Y/N’s hand is trembling in his hold and he tugs her a little closer to him.

“A girl from church,” she admits and Maria can't help but laugh at her own predicament. Falling in love with a girl that she met in church. Could it happen to anyone but her?

Y/N and Harry snicker laughs under their breaths at the situation and it somehow seems to lighten the overall mood a bit. Harry nods and Y/N is coddling into his side, head on his shoulder. She’s hardly spoken to Maria and she doesn’t miss the side-eye glance that her cousin offers at her willing closeness to the made man.

“I’ll find a way to fix this, Maria,” Harry promises. “In the meantime, try not to deflower any more church girls.”

//

Upon the coronation of a Made Man to a Capo, there are many things that are required to take place to deem said party fit and honourable enough for such a title. There are limits that are pushed and tests that are made, edges that men are pushed to, pressure they’re hoped to crack under.

The chosen location is one of the many abandoned warehouses that the Famiglia have access to. It’s packed to the brim, every folding chair occupied and facing the platformed stage that Dante stands upon, beside a thick concrete looking podium.

He’s in another one of his slick black suits -- everyone in this place is -- and as Y/N looks around from her position beside Mike on the right of the stage, she’s the only woman on the premises.

She made it clear before they left an hour ago that she was unsure about this. Y/N doesn't know what to expect attending this kind of ceremony -- a coronation that women are typically sheltered from. But like Harry had said, things will change under his hand and let it start with his wife standing by his side from the second he reigns as Capo.

Harry’s still standing behind her, dressed in a crisp white suit -- a tradition that has followed through generations, a rule that must be followed. For blood is seen and tarnished on the white of a soul. Harry’s remembered that saying since he was a child.

The warehouse is silent as Dante raises a hand, chatters and mumblings falling still and Harry leans closer to Y/N, lips against her ear.

“Under no circumstances do you leave Mike’s side, unless it’s with me,” he reminds her, standing tall before she can utter anything back.

She doesn’t, but she lets her hand knock briskly against his to silently promise him that she understands and she’s here.

They’re both rattling with nerves. Harry doesn’t want to leave her side in fear someone will attack her. Y/N doesn’t want him to get on that stage in fear someone will take a shot. She’s gnawing on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling -- not that it’s doing much use, but she can’t show weakness for either of them.

Head high, shoulders low, Y/N. She can hear her mother's voice rattling in her head. It’s perhaps the only sound piece of advice she’s ever offered the young girl.

She tries to ignore the hard expressions of unfamiliar faces, tries to pretend she doesn’t know that every single one of them has at least two guns and a knife on their person. She tries to forget that half the population of the building despise Harry, that they believe he’s a traitor by blood. She tries to forget it all.

“We are here today to test the fitness and the loyalty of Harry Styles-Dellucci -- to determine the strength and honour to crown him Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia.” Dante’s overpowering voice booms and the coldness of it spikes shivers down Y/N’s torso and spine.

He extends an arm to Harry’s direction and her husband follows it. He climbs the tall step of the platform to stand beside his Boss and he meets Dante’s judging eyes. Between them both, they know Harry will own the position no matter how this goes, but for the sake of appearances, they put on facades and follow tradition.

When he stands beside his superior, he shows no emotion, ignoring the stares and snickers of disgust. He doesn’t have to look at the audience to know Nino is sitting front row with a filthy smirk on his thin lips.

“Remove your shirt. Show those of the Famiglia your scars of duty and honour,” Dante commands.

Harry shuts out all emotion, like he can’t feel anything. He shrugs off his blazer first, throwing it to the ground and off the platform. He stares blankly at the podium when removing his shirt and when it slips off his arms, he makes a point to let it drop at Nino’s feet.

Dante has to bite back a snicker. Y/N has to bite back a gasp.

No matter how many times she’s seen him shirtless, she never gets used to the sight of his scars. No matter how many times she traces her fingers across his chest and back, she never gets used to the feel of the raised or indented skin. He turns to the masses, shoulders squared and chin high, surging nothing but pride and power.

Dante circles him, a fixed blade glistening between his fingers as he twists it in his palm.

“Harry Styles-Dellucci is a valuable asset to the Mafia,” Dante begins, voice echoing through the ears and minds of his soldiers. “His allies ensure safety and power within our Famiglia. He has promised potential and respect since before his initiation at age 11, when he mercilessly stabbed a member of the Bratva through the bottom of his chin and through their skull,” his voice fades off in a low drawl and the admission sends shivers through Y/N’s body.

She’s struggling to hide her discomfort and in her weakened moment of unfamiliarity, she misses the way Nino eyes her with curiosity and knowingness. She misses the plan he plots right in his head. He’s got that sick smirk on his face and while Y/N doesn’t notice, Harry does, and it rattles something dangerous in the pit of him. Something monstrous and merciless.

Mike notices it all, but his gun stays strapped to his chest and his hands remain folded over his front -- awaiting the signal to take Y/N out of the situation, but it doesn’t come. Brian is close behind the two, eyes dark and there’s a chilling excitement that burns in his eyes; a hungry desire and need to kill.

“Today, we test Harry on his true self. We test his loyalty and we question his power. We initiate him with the three steps of the coronation,” he announces. “Bleed for the Famiglia, torture a traitor, take the oath.”

With gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, Y/N watches her husband spread his arms either side of him. She watches Dante raise the blade, watches it glisten under the beams of sun that peer through the cracks of the warehouse, and swallowing back uncertainty, she watches the blade swipe across the tanned skin of his chest in one succession and a red river is unleashed.

Harry shows no sign of pain, no flicker or glint of discomfort. His facade doesn’t falter and the blood spills down the divots of toned muscles until it stains the white pants of his suit. Everything is white noise to Y/N as he slices again across his left bicep before bringing the knife down a third time to his right.

She feels faint, dizzy. She’s ignoring the comments and snickers and Dante’s shrill voice as a piercing scream echoes through the warehouse. Another suit drags an unknown party to the platform; a brown, stitched bag wrapped around his head and he’s shoved down on his knees with a thud and a cry.

Y/N’s trying not to look, not to show the complete and utter stricken sickness and fear she’s hammered with. But the bag is torn from the stranger's head and she sees distant fear and desperation in his eyes. Then she hears it.

“Take his life. The same way you took your first.”

Y/N’s blood runs cold and she can’t hide the fear anymore. She doesn’t want to see this side of him, she doesn’t want to let it taint what she thinks and has grown to adore. She doesn’t want to fear and hate him, but she can’t look away. She doesn’t miss the way Harry’s head snaps up at Dante’s command and a bewildered look flashes across his face for a brief moment.

He doesn’t say anything, but Dante gives him a look. A look that tells him to shut up and do it. Harry wants to turn around, to look at her, to plead for her to forgive him, but he can’t.

He doesn’t ask the questions that rattle his mind: what did he do to deserve this fate? Who is he? Can he not redeem himself? No. Instead, Harry ignores the begs and pleads of the doomed man and with a flicker of regret and remorse in his eyes, he says a silent prayer and the knife is jabbed into the traitor's throat.

Y/N bites back the shrill that almost escapes her trembling lips and she loses her footing, crashing into Mike's side. There’s an onslaught of cheers and encouragement that burst from the soldiers and Famiglia and it drowns out Y/N’s empty sobs of disgust and worry. Mike is quick to wrap his arms around the girl, to hold her up and get her out of the situation.

But her eyes meet Harry’s as he turns to seek her comfort and she can’t move. She knows that look in his eyes, the look of uncertainty and an unwavering feeling of fear. She shakes her head and pushes her weight off Mike, swallowing back the bile for her husband's sake and she stands tall, head high and shoulders rolled back.

“No,” she protests. “I’m staying.”

Her voice is firmer than she hoped, steady and calm and in seeing the worry and unrelenting fear in Harry’s eyes, she’s calmed herself to a state of complete ease and serenity. She doesn’t squirm at the sight of the dead body on the floor -- she doesn’t gag at the sight of Harry’s blood dripping down his body.

She needs for the Famiglia to know Harry is their right choice. That he doesn’t have an insolent and untamed wife that will create a scene at the sight of a little blood. She needs them to think she’s an obedient little wife, that he’s whipped her into complete and utter submission.

So she watches on.

She watches Dante retrieve an old, leather-bound book from the podium and offer it palm-up to Harry. He knows what to do without prompting. Left hand to his heart, right hand on the book, he takes the oath.

“Born in blood, sworn in blood.” He places his palm upright and Dante takes another swipe across his golden skin.

Harry clenches a fist, lifts his hand just enough for blood to drip a few drops on the leather.

“Born by honour, sworn by honour,” he recites and his heart is racing. He can hear the beat stammering in his ears, can feel the sweat dot across his clammy skin and when Dante beckons the audience to rise, he turns to them.

There’s an overwhelming gleam that oozes from him as they stand and kneel before him. Not Stefano’s soldiers. His.

“As reigning Boss of the Italian Mafia, I, Dante Vitiello, crown you, Harry Styles-Dellucci as Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia from here, until your final breath. All rise and hail your new leader.”

“Born in blood, sworn in blood.”

Y/N repeats the curse with her husband's men. She’s weak in the knees, besotted with the sight he is; basking in all his powerful glory. But she’s had that small slither of what his cold persona is capable of, of how quickly he can forget such a devastatingly evil act. And she’s reminded that despite how kindly he treats her, he is just as bad as the others.

//

Soft cotton towel wrapped around her body, Y/N rings her hair out in the bathroom sink. She rolls her head, neck cracking as she does so and it relieves some of the tension that’s built up through the day. She feels a little hazy if she’s honest -- a little out of touch with reality like she can’t actually fathom what happened today.

After the ceremony, Mike escorted her back to the penthouse while Harry took care of business and it’s safe to say she’s felt a little off since. It’s nearing midnight now and even after her call with Maria when she got home, Y/N doesn’t feel much different.

It’s an odd sensation that leads her down a path she’s never seen before. A part of her mind is reeling because she’s seen him in the shadows of a dark night, without an ounce of light shining on him and maybe it’s scaring her to know exactly what he’s capable of again.

It’s like she forgot and witnessing it brought it all back. But her heart is telling her to breathe. It’s telling her that really, what choice did he have in the matter. She noticed his hesitancy when Dante struck the command and she can only hope that no one else did and will question his strength and power.

Harry is a noble and loyal man. Becoming Capo isn’t something he’s doing to pass the time or to exert dominance as a power show. Y/N has to remind herself that it’s for the benefit of themselves and her family. That Harry can be the one to save her cousin from a marriage of neglect and misery. That Harry can be the one to enforce new laws and whither aged ones.

She tries to ignore the grave she’s dug by ignoring his presence when he got home. She busied herself with an hour-long shower and while part of her hopes he’s not there when she leaves the bathroom, the bigger part of her hopes he is. Y/N takes a deep breath as she smears her moisturiser into her skin, rubbing firm circles and wiping her fingers down her towel.

She doesn’t want to look at herself in the mirror because she knows she won’t be able to stomach the sight of herself. Not when she knows exactly what she’ll give into if he’s still home. “Snap out of it, Y/N,” she chastises herself and takes another deep breath. Her hand twists the door handle as she pulls it open slowly. She hasn’t locked the door in weeks.

She’s rattling a little in herself, eyes too focussed on her pink painted toes to notice much of her surroundings. But she does notice a pair of clothed legs hanging from the end of the bed and she jumps back in a shriek of surprise, one hand pressed over her heart, the other clutching her towel in place.

“Shit,” she seethes at the sight of him. Her heart is thumping and rattling against her ribs. “You scared me,” she breathes half-heartedly but Harry takes it as more than just surprising her at the end of their bed. He takes it as a general newfound fear she has for him, stemming from nothing but the earlier events of the day.

Y/N’s trying to crack a smile but the sight of his solemn self-scowl doesn’t sit well in the pit of her stomach. Harry shakes his head. “I won’t apologise for who I am,” he tells her.

His tone is sharp and one of a pointed and accusing nature, like he’s defensive and he can’t believe she’d ever view him differently. Or maybe it’s that he can’t believe he’s been stupid enough to possibly fuck up any progress they’ve made.

She’s frowning at his sudden tone of reply and she’s trying to understand what’s going through his head.

“What are you--” He’s cutting her off before she can verbally express her confusion.

“I was born into violence and death, Y/N. I live and breathe for the Famiglia. It’s who I am and I won’t apologise for it.” Silence swarms them both for a moment and Harry allows for his words to sink into her pretty little head.

It’s a silent reminder that if they try this, a relationship of any kind, she will have to accept every part of him. Even his deepest and darkest parts. If they’re going into this platonically or romantically, he will not hide who he is.

Y/N understands, of course, she does. She doesn’t want him to change, she wants to learn to adapt and understand. She isn’t silly. She knows she’s been sheltered from the cruel and harsh realities of their lives and she wants to learn. She wants to know it all, no matter how dark and sick it is.

She takes a step between his parted thighs and his face is level with her stomach through the towel. She feels bold when she lets her fingers tangle in his dark curls, when her nails gently scratch and massage at his scalp. She does it to let him know she’s listening, that she understands. That she’s thankful he trusts her enough to show this vulnerable side of himself.

Or maybe she’s got it wrong and he doesn’t trust her at all. Maybe he tells her because he knows she’s no threat to him. That she’s not strong enough to be. Y/N doesn’t let herself dwell on the thought too long. Instead, her fingers tighten on his curls and she tugs just gently enough for him to get the hint.

He looks up at her through long lashes, chin raised and she thinks he looks like a fucking angel with brown curls for a halo.

“I was born into the same world as you, Harry. I know it was different because I’m a woman but if you can accept my scars, I can accept yours.”

His eyes are in flames as he lets his hands grip her hips over the towel, needing to feel her, to know he’s not dreaming.

She pretends the simple touch doesn’t ignite her entire body and soul. “I don’t want to be trapped in a contract with a man who doesn’t care for me. I’ve had that all my life with my father,” she swallows and Harry’s can’t look away.

She’s opening up and she’s trusting him and he thinks he might be falling for her. But he’s frustrated -- frustrated that she doubts his care for her.

“I want a relationship with you, as stupid and naive as it may sound. I want for us to trust each other and care -- even if it’s just as a friend. We both deserve that at least.”

He wants to tell her that she doesn't know what he deserves. That no matter how many good and selfless deeds he does, it’ll never even begin to make a dent in the horror and sin he’s caused upon the world. Wants to tell her that he certainly doesn’t deserve her. But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he feels up her hips until his palms are sprawled across the sides of her curved waist and he tugs her down. She bends her knees until she’s straddling his lap, the hem of the towel riding up just enough for her bare core to sit on the clothed crotch of his dress pants. Her arms are around his neck as he noses at her cheek tenderly -- drinking her in.

In the unfamiliar state, she finds comfort under his touch. Her mind is frantic and it’s telling her every reason to pull away but she can’t bring herself to. Not when her heart is telling her she’s safe and this is the right thing. Not when his lips are meeting hers again and she forgets what reality feels like for a moment.

He knows she’s soaked as she gently rubs herself against his crotch. His length is bloating in his pants as she suckles innocently on his bottom lip. He’s licking into her mouth, savouring the sweetness of her on his tongue but he thinks he needs more. “Please. Wanna feel you, please,” she pleads through an unsteady whisper full of eager desperation.

Harry nods against her lips, arms wrapping around her middle and he lifts her in his arms. He spins them and kneels on the bed, gently easing her in the centre of the mattress and her own hands untuck the towel and tug it open. In her exposed state, Y/N’s mind is rolling in fear and anxiety. What if she’s not enough for him? What if he isn’t attracted to her like she thought he was? What if he changes his mind?

“Holy shit,” he breathes and her nerves and worries are eased just as quickly as they were built.

She’s gorgeous, completely bare beneath his body and her nipples have pearled under the cool air of the night. Her breasts are still full as they flatten against her chest and her little kitty looks smooth and delicious and Harry is eager for a taste.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he praises, his hands on her spread thighs and he kisses her knees tenderly.

The affirmation alone has a blanket of safety and comfort settling over her and Y/N’s confidence is quick to begin to grow again -- despite having no experience in whatever is going to happen. There’s just something about seeing his gentle nature hours after being cruel and merciless that she can’t wrap her head around. She knows what he’s capable of but knows more than anything else that he’ll never direct that anger to her. The way he interacts with his mother and sister is enough to speak volumes.

“I want this, Harry,” she promises. “I want to feel this with you.”

The verbal confirmation and tugging on his fingers are enough for Harry and he nods, kissing his way up her thighs as he situates himself between her body. He knows what she’s asking for, to feel him completely but he knows better than her that she’s not as ready as she thinks she is.

His face is level with her pulsing core and she shudders at the sensation of his warm breath on her sweetest spot. Her eyes are fluttering with nerves and excitement and she doesn’t know what to expect. He kisses at the apex of her thighs softly and massages at her hips.

“Relax for me, we’ll do this slowly,” he reassures her but Harry wonders what he’s actually doing.

She’s confessed how she feels and he’s given her nothing back but silence and kisses. Her words replay in his head and he’s torn. Even if it’s just as a friend. He thinks he might be a bit of an idiot. What are they? What are they doing? Will touching her give false hope that they’re building for something more than an arrangement? For something romantic and promising? Who is it giving false hope to?

But her insistent, breathless begs of “Please, Harry. Please, want this so bad,” is enough to sway him in her current favour and he supposes the logistics of what they are is something they can discuss another time.

He’s not the only one. Y/N’s in the same boat, worried and doubting that this is a good idea. She pushes the nagging away by telling herself the same thing every time.

Platonic or romantic, she will take what she can get. They have each other until their final breath. They have time.

Harry licks a broad stripe from her hole to her clit, tongue soaking up her arousal and flicking across her throbbing little bud. Y/N’s fingers are tangled in his curls, tugging deliciously at the wanton tendrils that tickle at her thighs.

“Oh my God.” She’s breathless and her eyes are wide, the cool yet warm sensation of his skilled tongue swirling around her intimate little honeypot.

“Tastes so good,” he hums in praises of appreciation.

His words are muffled but Y/N hears them loud and clear. She feels like she’s finally in tune with her body and soul -- like every feeling before this has never compared. His tongue is everything she didn’t know she needed and with every stroke and build of her release, she feels heavier and heavier.

He’s been between her thighs for mere minutes but she can feel an unfamiliar weight that sits heavy on her lower abdomen that she’s never experienced before. Harry can’t get enough of her sweetness or the way her velvety smooth lips feel against his hot tongue. She’s pretty and warm and he’s slurping at every string of wetness she has to offer.

He doesn’t know what’s turning him on more. The sight and taste of her, or the knowledge that he’s the first one to make her feel this way and the last. No one else will ever get a taste of her sweet little cunt or have the privilege to watch it clench and throb when he pulls away. No one will be blessed with this sight but him and it makes his cock twitch and bloat until it’s painful in his pants.

He’s immersing himself in her entirety, lips and chin and cheeks soaked. “Pretty little cunt, baby.”

His lips have taken to her neglected little clit and he suckles teasingly, teeth grazing across her most sensitive nub and Y/N’s thrashing beneath him, pulling at his hair so harshly but he loves the burn. Harry keeps her as still as he can when he feels her squirm and he thinks he’ll try something.

One hand releases his hold on her and his middle finger tauntingly probes at her swollen hole. She thrashes again and tightens at the risk of intrusion but he coos her, slurping her up and she relaxes the best she can.

Y/N’s got his filthy words replaying in her mind and she feels like a dirty little girl. She’s thrown back to all those times her dainty little fingers weaved their way into her panties late at night at the blank thoughts of faceless lovers. Now she’s riding her cunt against her husband.

He eases his digit in her dripping hole and she clenches around it desperately. Harry groans at the sensation of her walls fluttering around his finger and it only makes him impossibly harder. She gets used to the intrusion quickly and the pinches of discomfort twist and ease into waves of undeniable pleasure.

Y/N’s thighs are trembling when he slowly starts to pump his digit in her cunt, curling it in a ‘come hither’ motion and she’s seeing stars. She can’t believe how deep his thick finger is reaching and the way he manages to hit every dazing spot she never even knew existed. Harry continues to suckle on her clit, eyeing the underswell of her breasts as she shudders and trembles.

Her head is thrown back, eyes pinched closed as the burning becomes too much and she can’t control the overwhelming senses that take over her body.

“Oh god, what’s -- what’s hap-- oh my God!” She’s coming on his tongue in a rush of arousal and panic; a feeling she’s never even come close to experiencing with just her nimble fingers.

Harry guides her through her high, sucking and fingering until she’s quivering with tears in her eyes. She wants to look down at him, to see what he looks like in between her thighs but she isn’t ready for such a sinful sight -- she doesn’t think she’ll be able to look without blushing in pure shyness and embarrassment.

He eases his movements when she begins to twitch in the aftershock and he kisses down her thighs, smearing her wetness across the plushy skin until he’s crawling up her body with a glistening face and mischievous eyes.

Y/N can hardly see through the white spots that distort her vision but she makes out his grin and can’t help the bashful smile that tugs on her parted lips.

“Happy first orgasm,” he congratulates her and an outrageous laugh bubbles deep from within her chest and Harry is fucking gleaming at the sound of it.

He grabs the towel she’s laying on and pulls it from beneath her body, bunching it up to wipe his face dry before pressing a kiss to her cheek. She watches him scurry to the bathroom, door pushed ajar but she can still see him taking off his clothes. She sees the thick length of his hard cock slap up against his midsection when he tugs down his boxers and she struggles for breath.

Her cheeks are hot and heavy and she wants nothing more than to feel the weight of his pink tip on her tongue. Y/N has to blink and clear her throat. She can’t believe she’s actually thinking these things. It’s minutes later when he’s crawling back on the bed with just a pair of boxers and the tent is still visible in his briefs, despite how hard he’s tried to hide it.

They talk for hours, whispering the night away with midnight giggles and reminiscent childhood memories that no one else knows. And for the first time, they fall asleep in each other’s arms with limbs tangled, light hearts, and a floating feeling that maybe this is the start of them.

//

what a fuckin ride lmaooo. please do leave some feedback and let me know what you think of the series. I'm so excited for you all to see what happens next!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagines

[underoospeterparker]

okay i really hope this makes sense because i love your writing - shy!reader x remus <3

reader is in the wrong place at the wrong time and gets detention for something she didn’t do - too shy and nervous to speak up for herself. when reader doesn’t meet up on time with remus he begins to worry

thank you for requesting! writing in the actual harry potter universe is tough, but i really like how it turned out!

grumpy!remus lupin x shy!fem!reader, 0.7k words

Remus paced back and forth in the hallway, frantically trying to think of an excuse as to why you might be late. James and Sirius watched him, clearly amused at his antics.

"Moony," James spoke up, "might I remind you that she's only ten minutes late?"

He turned around with an annoyed look on his face, a frown turning the corner of his lips downward. "No, you may not."

Sirius burst into laughter, clutching at James's blazer to steady himself. When he took a look at Remus's face, he fell silent. "Sorry," he murmured, "that was not funny."

"She's never late," he said, mostly to himself rather than to his best friends, "maybe I should check her classroom?" He paused, then answered his own question. "Yes. I'll do that. See you later, guys," Remus added, before heading off in the opposite direction of the Great Hall for lunch.

James sighed in mock disappointment. "Now what'll we do?"

Sirius played along, grin wide on his face. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "we'll have to follow him. I mean, what else could we possibly do?

-

You sat, hands shaking, in front of your professor. The only sound was the clicking of his pen as he surveyed you. "I don't understand what I did wrong," you managed, looking at your lap because you could not meet his gaze.

Snape stared at you, an incredulous look on his face. "You don't understand what you did wrong?" He repeated your statement. "Well, let me remind you, (Y/N). A student told me that she saw you in the bathroom, attempting to perform an expulso curse."

You didn't say anything. You knew it was Pansy, but if you said anything, which you wouldn't have done anyway, she would do much worse to you. "I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice quiet.

He nodded, a stern look on his face. "Do not let me catch you doing that again," he said, then paused. "Detention, then. Two weeks, starting today. 6'o clock. Don't be late," he added, then motioned for you to leave.

Packing up your things, you left in a hurry. You bumped straight into Remus, who had been making his way to your classroom. He steadied you, setting a hand on your hip. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Hey, where've you been? I've been looking for you everywhere, I-"

He was cut off by you promptly bursting into tears, hiding your face in the crook of his blazer. "Oh," he murmured. He wrapped his arms around you, hand going up to soothingly scratch at your scalp. "Oh, angel, you're okay," he murmured softly. "It's okay."

You sniffled, and the sound made his chest hurt as you burrowed your head further into his jacket. Then, you pulled away, bringing your sleeve up to wipe at your eyes hastily.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. You tried to explain yourself. "I was in the bathroom at the wrong time," you said, and Remus raised an eyebrow. "Snape thought I was trying to do an expulso curse."

"But you weren't," Remus said slowly. "Of course you weren't. Must've been Pansy, the little git." When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shook your head. "I didn't want to get in more trouble."

You looked up at him, and his eyes softened. "I get it," he said, although if it had been up to him, he would have blamed it on her to get you out of trouble. Remus swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you back into his chest, which you went into gladly. "So, how many days of detention?"

Wincing, you replied, "two weeks."

He groaned, then said, "how am I supposed to go that long without seeing my best girl?"

You laughed. "You'll see me at lunch, and at Charms."

He pressed a kiss to your head. "Nope. I gotta get into some sort of trouble so I can be in detention with you, sweetheart."

Your eyes widened when James and Sirius popped out from behind the corner, identical mischievous grins on their faces.

Sirius was the first to speak up. "Did someone say trouble?"

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus x you #remus x y/n #remus fluff #hurt/comfort #comforting #comfort #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fluff #james potter #sirius black #hp fanfic #hp fandom #hp marauders #harry potter fanfiction #fluff #moony #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #the marauders era #marauders imagine #remus lupin x y/n

[atlafan]

“You’re not the third base coach, you know?” Layna teased Harry. “Well, you could coach people on third base, but that would be an adults only thing.”

“We have been to every single one of your nephew’s little league games this season. This is a big game, I’m paying atten-that was a ball, ump!”

“You’re going to embarrass him.”

“Plenty of other parents are-good eye, Joshy! It wouldn’t kill you to show your support.”

“Alright.” Layna clears her throat. “Down by the bay, where the watermelons grow…” the other players on the bench start singing along, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Did you even play sports growing up?”

“Of course I did.” Harry scoffs. “I played soccer, baseball, and I ran cross country.”

“Ooohh, a jock.”

“I wouldn’t put myself in that category. I didn’t do well in my classes, so I let myself be a good athlete. Oh, that call was bullshit. That’s a ball!”

Josh frowns as he comes back over to the bench, pulling his helmet off. Harry goes right over to him, and takes a knee to be at eye level.

“Hey, don’t let it get to you.” He assures the young boy. “That umpire needs better glasses. He probably knows the coach on the other team. You did great up there.”

“I should have swung. Grandpa always says to go down swinging.” Josh pouts.

“Next time you’re up to bat you can do that. Shake it off, yeah? No matter what, Auntie Layna and I are taking you for pizza and ice cream afterwards.”

“No way?! Just us three?”

“Just us three.”

“Cool!” Josh heads over to his coach and his teammates, feeling much better about his strikeout.

Harry makes his way back over to Layna and puts his arm around her shoulders. She looks up at him, grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She giggles and buries her face in his chest. Harry laughs softly and curls his finger under Layna’s chin so she’ll look up at him. He shuffles them over to the side of the bleachers so they’re not front and center in everyone’s view. “It’s nothing.”

“Just tell me. Make fun of me for being like a baseball dad.”

“I wasn’t going to. I got that out of my system before.” She bites her bottom lip as she looks up at him. “You’re really part of the family.”

“I like your family. Well, not so much your parents, they’re in sane. But your brother’s kids are cool.”

“They love you.”

“I like being involved. I should volunteer next season.”

“It would take you an hour to get out of the city every day to make it here in time.”

“Meh.” He shrugs. “The coaches clearly aren’t teaching them fundamentals. They’re not boosting their confidence.” Layna giggles into his chest again. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Her arms a wrap around his neck. “I just love you.”

“I love you too. Now tell me why you’re giggling. I’m obviously doing something.”

“I was just thinking…you’re going to be a great dad someday, and I really hope it’s to my children.”

“Who else’s father would I be?”

“I don’t know. You could decide you don’t like me anymore.”

“Not possible.” He looks around before sneaking a kiss. “Let’s go have sex in the car.”

“Harry!” She squeals. “We can’t.”

“Obviously not here, we’ll drive somewhere.”

“We can’t just leave. We promised pizza and ice cream.”

“You can’t just bring up wanting me to be the father of your kids and not let me do something about it.” He pinches her hip. “That’s a paddlin’.”

“Noooo, don’t be mean to me, daddy.”

“Now you’re really gonna get it.”

“After pizza and ice cream, I’ll let you fuck me in the car before we drive home.”

“And then?”

“And then you can fuck me all night long and make the bed shake and I’ll be a good girl and take everything you give me and thank you for it.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He grins wickedly. “Consider the paddlin’ rescinded.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

No Complaints Blurb

#no complaints #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles x oc

[buzzyb33]

Make-up

Prompt: getting ready for a girls night out while josh is streaming some among us you just can’t get your make up right and get beyond annoyed.

Warnings: swearing, switching POVs, fluff‼️

“Okay..” I say to myself as I start my makeup.

After a while, I’m done the majority as I put on my dress jacket and heels I sigh as I have to do my eye makeup, the worst part.

I let out a sigh as I begin trying to do my eyeliner and repeatedly failing. I let out a sharp exhale before rubbing it off and doing it again, a red patch developing on my left eye.

My breaths get heavier as I attempted again.

I reach out and pick up my hair spray and spin it in my hand as I try again.

“Oh my fucking god..” I whisper.

Six more attempts later I can feel tears boiling.

I do it again and do it worse than any other attempts.

I launch the hairspray bottle against the wall and begin wiping off all my makeup, eyes welling with tears.

The girl wipes her makeup just leaving her red lipstick which she didn’t notice

“Ah!” Josh says not really shouting but not quiet as his head whips to the closed door.

A loud groan is admitted from a couple rooms over.

He looks back at his camera before standing up and opening his bedroom door.

“Y/n, are you alright?” He calls out.

“… uh… yeah!” I respond and text my group chat, apologising for cancelling last minute.

I take my dress off and change into something more comfortable- shirts and a sidemen hoodie.

“Fucking hell josh, was that Y/n?” Harry says with a laugh.

“Hm.. yeah- give me a minute, boys,” he replies as he pulls his headset off and goes to Y/ns door.

His girlfriend is one to get angry quickly and one of three things happens, she shuts off completely annoyed in her own mind, trying to handle her anger which normally means she’s with him a lot more. And snappy, she gets annoyed at things he does and is in an overall bad mood.

“Y/n?” He says softly as he opens her door to see her sat in front of her desk where she does her makeup, packing her back up neatly as she looks at him with narrowed eyes.

He smiles slightly and comes into the room.

“I thought you was going out?” He says as he goes over to her.

“I was- but then I couldn’t do my fucking eyeliner! It was so-“ she exhales.

“No, I’m not going out anymore.” She says as she runs her hands through her long black hair.

“Oh- alright.. I’m still streaming, u can end if you want in like 10 minutes if you want.” He says as he puts his hands in his pockets.

Her eyes soften at that and she shakes her head and stands up, moving closer to him.

“No- I’ll come watch you stream, give me a couple minutes.” He nods and goes to turn around but is pulled into a soft kiss.

He smiles into the kiss and wraps his arms gently around her waist.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a minute.”he smiles down at me and heads back to his room.

“Back.” He says with a smile as he puts his headphones back on.

“You’re girl has a temper.” Freezy says as he hears Josh’s voice.

“She can, I suppose.” Je shrugs in response.

“Mate, didn’t you say when you like first met on one of your dates you went to get something or some shit like that and she was getting hit on, then.. fuck what did you say?” Harry says.

“Right. That’s not important- and she had the right to get mad at-“ josh cuts himself off with a sigh.

Ethan laughs. “What happened josh?” He questions as he follows his among us character, due to proximity chat.

“She was getting hit on and as I got back I went to open my mouth but she like shushed me in a way then turned to guy down then he was like ‘come on just a drink’ and she said no again then he started insulting her.. I think he like called her a slut for wearing a dress with a thigh slit, then uhm- she told him he couldn’t please her with his dick even if he was rock solid- an appropriate response then this guy called her an ‘emo bitch’ so she punched him in the face.. and broke his nose- and yeah.” Josh says calmly.

“Oh- well.” Ethan laughs as josh scans in the video game.

“Interesting story..“ he says, a smile evident in his voice.

“Mhm..”

Around ten minutes later she opened Josh’s door gently.

“Do you want anything to eat?” She asked softly, a soft smile on her pink lips.

“Yeah- please get me whatever..” he says and straightens his posture.

“Kay, love you.” She says as she turns around.

“Hm, yeah love you too..” he mumbles as he passes Harry in the game, him hearing what he said.

“No PDA, josh.” He fake gags.

“Yeah fuck off Bog.” He scoffs as he goes to check who’s on cams.

After the food or here Y/n came in and handed him his food.

She kissed his forehead and smiled as he thanked her, though this was during a meeting.

“Oh my good josh, get a room.” JJ says loudly.

“Uhm, I’m in my room? And my girlfriend bought me food? No issue.” Josh retorts as he leans back in his seat.

JJ grumbles in response.

After some shouting matches with some other YouTubers from the game, Josh ended stream, he had finished his food and as he stretched his limbs, he put his bowl in the sink and looked around the house for his girlfriend.

He leaks his head into her little walk in closet and she isn’t there, he checks there shared room and she’s in there, sitting up watching something on the tv.

Josh smiles and pulls his hoodie off and sits next to her.

“Oh, you finished streaming? Sorry I didn’t know what you wanted me to order- I hope what I got you is okay-“ she starts and he cuts her off by a soft kiss, his hand travelling to the back of her head to deepen the kiss.

He pulls away and she looks at him, flustered.

“What was that for?” She smiles shyly as he places is hand sob her shoulders.

“Just love you, and what you got me was fine.” He says and holds her gently.

“You okay now?” He asks as she means unto him to which she nods.

He smiles and watches Tv with her in his arms, which she eventually fell asleep in.

A/n:

I HAVEN’T FED YOU LOT!!

Here you go- a quick fic in the drafts- I’ll have a Danny Aarons one out soon! Happy holidays!

Requests are open!

#sidemen x reader #sidemen #sidemen x y/n #josh zerkaa #zerkaa x reader #zerkaa #miniminter x reader #miniminter #simon minter #vikkstar x reader #vikkstar123 #vik #tobijzl #tobi brown x reader #tobi brown #w2s #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #ksi x reader #ksi #jj olatunji #youtuber #youtube #youtuber x reader #merry christmas

[harrys-titties]

“I can’t- I need to go home.” 

“No, don’t go.” He reaches toward her but stops himself just before he grabs her, bringing his arm back towards his body like the very thought of pulling Y/N back to him burned. 

She turns to him, tears brimming. “I-, no! I can’t do this anymore, Harry.” He watches as she wipes a tear. She hadn’t looked at him since they’d returned to his apartment. “All the big sighs, the angry looks. You clearly hate Xander, or maybe you hate me being here.” She chooses this point to look him dead in the eye, and Harry feels his stomach turn. 

“But you won’t say it. I keep- I thought you would but you haven’t. So what the fuck am I meant to do, huh Harry?” 

There’s no confusion in Harry’s voice when he speaks, only a sort of dejection that Y/N hates. She hates all of this! Harry was never supposed to be the person she had this conversation with. 

“Say what, YN?” 

That you love me. 

It’s on the tip of her tongue, just begging to come out. But Y/N knows this is one of those sentences that she couldn’t take back, one that would change the dynamic between them forever. She didn’t want to be responsible for that. So she says nothing and lets Harry read the frustration and begging in her eyes instead. 

The silence settles over the room, so long and thick it begins to choke her. 

It’s Harry who speaks again. “Yet you won’t say it either,” he shakes his head. “What do you want me to tell you, Y/N? That I love you being with him? That I’ve always imagined you coming here and the person you ending up with being the one person I can’t stand? What did you expect exactly?” 

“Plea-.” She opens her mouth to speak, but Harry had never spoken to her like this before, and the fear of losing him snakes up her throat and squeezes. 

“Do you want me to be happy for you? Because fine, if that’s what it takes, then so be it, but I’m not gonna be happy for him. And I’m not going to be happy that he took you away from me. And I’m never going to forgive him or accept him because he’s not and never will be good enough for you.” Harry hates the hurt that spills from her eyes.

But what was he supposed to say, that he was in love with her? He couldn’t. How could anyone say something like that so brazenly? This wasn’t a movie. She wasn’t going to run into Harry’s arms in the rain and forget the fiancé left in New York. Harry couldn’t be the Noah to Y/N’s Allie because she didn’t choose him. She’d never chosen him. 

She chose Xander, and Harry loved her too much to force her into making a decision she shouldn’t have had to. 

“I need to leave.” 

Harry sniffs, nodding like he was trying to convince himself she’d just said that. He lets the disappointment sink to his stomach and stew, beginning to feel sick with the implication that she was making her final choice, and he wasn’t it. Maybe he was never in the running and had only let himself believe it. 

“Okay.” 

Opening the door for her, he stood looking at the floor, waiting for her to walk past him so he could close it and try to forget how she’d looked at him twenty seconds ago. 

“Harry- please.” He looks at her then, and a tear threatening to fall from his eye causes him to clear his throat, “What, Y/N? Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, please.” 

She still doesn’t move. 

“I- I’m so scared, Harry.” It’s whispered so softly that he knows he would never have heard her if he wasn’t straining his ears, praying she’d admit she loved him.  

“Scared of what?” 

She laughs, but neither of them sees humour in any of this. “Of fucking up and losing you. Of hurting Xander and doing something I can’t take back. I’m scared of it not working out and losing both of you at once. Which is selfish, I know, but I can’t help it.” 

She looks so scared, so vulnerable that Harry is immediately transported back to their days at University. The hours they spent drunk sitting on the floor of her dorm room, the thousands of tears they’d wiped off of each other’s faces, every time Harry had thought of kissing her, and all the times he knew she was thinking the same thing. This gut-wrenching, spine-twisting feeling was exactly the same as when he’d told her he was moving. When her eyes held the same dullness they do now, every gaze and blink screaming that he’d betrayed her. 

“He’s not good enough for you, he won’t- he can’t take care of you the way that-" he gulps, “the way that I could.” 

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry #harry styles writing #writing #am i feeling dramatic today? yes xxx #is this cringey and overdramatic? ALSO yes #love u all as always

[forestdeath1]

Hopelessness

@prongsfoot-microfic

It turned out that this microfic is 1600 words long, so if it's more convenient for someone to read on AO3, here's the link.

It's jilypad.

---

Sirius kisses Lily’s belly, stretched by a muggle T-shirt with Black Sabbath on it, his gift. The air's filled with the light scent of jasmine from the open window, letting in the cool June breeze. Lily isn't really into Black Sabbath, but Sirius hopes the band's symbolism might somehow influence Harry’s musical taste, since he’s got no hope with Lily and James. As Lily recently said, she wears that T-shirt solely because it features a "handsome vocalist" who reminds her of Sirius.   Sirius is quite pleased with that outcome.

They're sprawled on a wide sofa under a soft blanket, Sirius snuggled up beside Lily. The quiet of the Potter home, only interrupted by the ticking of antique clocks, always puts Sirius in a peaceful state. Lily gently strokes her rounded belly, while Sirius, with his arm around her waist, draws patterns on her skin, occasionally leaving soft kisses in response to the baby's sharp kicks. James, sitting opposite in a battered chair once favoured by Fleamont, reads the newspaper, his eyes scanning the pages gloomily.

"Oh," Lily exhales lightly. "He's been kicking all day. Extra lively today."

"Harry," Sirius murmurs softly, amazed at the depth of feeling he has for a child not yet born. "My handsome, smart boy."

"When did you get so sentimental?" James asks, not looking up from his paper.

"Since you married this incredible woman and started your own amateur production of 'Tiny Humans.' Even my frostbitten heart had to defrost for the premiere."

"Oh, my love," Lily, smiling softly, reaches out to gently ruffle Sirius's hair, "sometimes I think, what if I'd married you instead of James? How much prettier would my child be?" Lily's light, carefree laughter makes Sirius smile.

"Hey," James perks up, pretending to be offended. "There’s a lot of Blacks. And only one of me. Harry's gonna have the most unique hair in all of Magical Britain."

"And the dullest sense of humour," Sirius shoots back, still focused on the belly, speaking in a teasingly sweet tone as if talking to Harry. "Hopefully, you’ve got a better one. You got a bit short-changed on the genes from one side, but I promise to teach you."

"At least my humour doesn’t make people want to off themselves," counters James.

"You adore my jokes, don't kid yourself."

"Haven't heard one yet."

Sirius flicks his middle finger at James, who just chuckles, then removes his glasses and rubs his nose bridge in mock exasperation.

"Everything alright?" Lily asks him, concern in her voice.

"Yeah," James replies, trying to mask the worry in his voice. "Just going to make some tea."

Rising from his chair and heading to the kitchen, James leaves a trail of unspoken thoughts behind him. Sirius watches him go, and Lily, with a soft sigh, shakes her head.

"He's like this all day. Lost in thoughts about the war. Sticks to me like glue. Fancy taking him out somewhere? Hit a pub? Even stay out all night. He needs to get out more. He can't keep guarding me from God knows what," Lily adjusts a stray lock of Sirius's hair, a simple, familiar gesture.

"Alright, but not tonight," Sirius responds tenderly, kissing Lily's belly one last time before gently running his hand over her soft skin and carefully standing up from the sofa to not disturb her.

"Patrol?"

"Yeah," Sirius glances at the old wall clock, "and I'm already late."

"Why don't you move in with us?" Lily stops him with the question she poses every month.

"Don’t start," Sirius says with a light reprimand. "I'd end up covered in old people's dust here, sipping teas and reading newspapers. Tea? Seriously? When was the last time I drank tea?"

Her laughter, bright and full, fills the room, reflecting off the warm glow of the candles. She could easily shift from a pensive mood to mirth, and really, it took nothing to make her laugh. Lily was always so light, Sirius adored that about her. Like an autumn maple leaf playfully dancing with the wind – always ready to soar at the slightest breeze.

"Come here," she extends her arms, and Sirius leans in, allowing Lily to plant a tender kiss on his lips. "I love you," she looks at him, her gaze filled with care and tenderness, "Be careful."

"You too," Sirius smiles and ruffles her hair. "Look after Harry."

Stepping into the hallway, leaving Lily resting on the sofa, Sirius grabs his jacket from the coat rack and pulls it on, whistling a tune he caught in some noisy muggle café.

"James! I’m off."

James peeks out from the kitchen, holding a pack of tea.

"Not staying for tea?" he asks, knowing the answer already.

Sirius isn't much for tea, yet James has been offering it to him for years. In an attempt to make the drink more appealing, he once even started spiking the tea with Firewhisky. That gimmick worked for a while, but soon not even Firewhisky could dispel Sirius's irritation with the whole tedious, monotonous process.

"No, got patrol."

James looks slightly disappointed, tosses the tea pack onto a table cluttered with books and newspapers, and approaches Sirius.

"Lily suggested we should hit a bar," Sirius mentions.

James shrugs, adjusting his glasses absently.

"I can't leave her alone. Every time I go on patrol, you know it’s torture for me. I keep thinking something might happen, that they might attack our home, and…"

"I know," Sirius cuts him off. "That’s why I’m not inviting you. Just passing on Lily’s words."

James gives a soft smile, tilting his head slightly.

"You’ll come over on Friday?" he asks.

"Yes."

"And stay the night?"

"Of course."

James nods and hugs Sirius, pressing his face to his neck. Sirius leans into his ear, kissing it and breathing in the scent of earthy moss and the morning forest. James's scent always carried the notes of their moonlit adventures, as if his skin had absorbed the essence of those nights. They stand in silence for a moment until the soft hum of an old radio playing a vintage jazz tune Lily adores drifts in from the living room.

"Everything will be alright, James, hear me?" Sirius whispers, probably a bit too roughly patting James on the head as his movements have grown more abrupt lately. "I promise. Everything will be alright. With Lily, with you, with Harry."

"Yes," James says, rubbing an eye then running a hand through his hair. "Of course. It'll be alright. With you too."

"I'm not that important."

"Don't talk like that," James responds in a strained voice.

"I’d do anything for you, whatever it takes," Sirius says in a matter-of-fact tone, as if they’re discussing a Christmas dinner menu, not talking about things people usually don’t say to each other when everything’s fine.

James steps back, looks up at Sirius, and smirks, chasing away the worried shadows from his face.

"Have I mentioned you’ve become sentimental?"

"I've spent too much time around a mushy sod like you," Sirius grins, shrugging. "Bad influence."

James laughs, shoving Sirius's shoulder then pulling him in close, as if wanting to hide away in Sirius's broad embrace.

"I love you, you idiot," he kisses him, fingers threading through Sirius’s hair, tousling it. "Don’t be late on Friday. Lily’s making your favourite blueberry pie."

"I won’t," Sirius breathes out huskily.

James nods, and Sirius steps out the door. The June air hits his face, a warm breeze flicking a lock of hair from his forehead. The scent of night flowers mingles with the smell of fresh paint – someone nearby decided to give their fence a fresh coat.

Sirius moves a few meters away, casting one last glance at the Potters' house. James stands in the doorway, leaning on one shoulder against the frame. Sirius catches his worried gaze and nods subtly in response.

A moment later, Sirius apparates, but James's troubled face lingers in his mind like an echo. Usually, James's face brings peace, but this time it leaves a quiet itch, a reminder that Sirius is missing something, yet can't quite grasp what it is.

The war makes everyone nervous, anxious, and lost, and Sirius knows better than to succumb to these draining sentiments. But seeing those feelings in James – the person who made Sirius believe that even in the coldest winter, there's an unbeatable summer living inside him – Sirius realizes things are grim.

Of course, Sirius will come over on Friday. Perhaps he'll stay for the weekend, and they'll spend it together, like old times, before the threat of war knocked so clearly on their doors. They'll wake up to a late breakfast in the garden, reminiscing about school under the rustling of green leaves and birdsong, and perhaps even making plans for the future where the war is just a distant memory—a future where Sirius already knows exactly how to raise Harry and what gifts to give him from the very first months of his life.

A future where they're together.

After breakfast, they'll apparate to the lake, where James will set up broom races, beating Sirius yet again.  Lily, always rooting for Sirius, will put on a theatrical display of disappointment and spend the day cheering him up, recounting for the hundredth time the tales of James's rare Quidditch misplays at Hogwarts—as if Sirius didn't already know each one by heart.

After dinner, James will suggest a game of wizard chess, and Lily will pick out a book to read aloud by the fireplace. Soon, she will head to bed early, as has become more common since she got pregnant, and James and Sirius will go out to the garden, lie on the grass, and spend the night forgetting all worries, remembering that it's moments like these for which they're fighting and ruthlessly suppressing the hopelessness that seeks to consume their souls.

#james potter #sirius black #lily evans #prongsfoot microfic #jilypad #it seems to me this might be too saccharine #prongsfoot

[badasgirlfriend]

Secret | | Harry Potter Imagine

pairings: harry potter x malfoy! fem oc

genre: secret relationship

warnings: ??

a/n: hope u like it<3 reqs are open

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·..·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

"Class is over. See you class," the professor's voice booms, causing all the students to stand and rush towards the door. As soon as they're able, they exit the classroom, eager to get to their next class or to take a long-needed break from the day's lessons.

Harry smiles at Lyra as the two of them gather their belongings and begin to head out of the classroom together. As they reach the exit, Harry pauses and suddenly grabs Lyra's hand, gently pulling her closer to him. Lyra is caught off guard by this gesture and looks at the green eyed boy with a surprised expression.

"Um...Harry, what are you doing?" she asks.

“Holding my girlfriends hand what does it look like” he snorts

“Harry” Lyra says looking around “Someone could see us”

"Shhh, it's perfectly fine, Lyra." Harry brushes her concern to the side with a light chuckle as he leans in to kiss her. "What's the issue in spending some extra time together?" he says with a grin, pressing his lips against hers.

“Harry, please...let go. What if someone sees us?" she whispers, trying to make him understand

"Lyra, you’re being paranoid. I doubt anyone is going to come here anytime soon." he continues to hold onto Lyra's hand with a firm grasp

But she still feels anxious, what if her brother saw them together…or his friends. She can risk that “Harry please. Can't we go to somewhere else?" she begs.

Harry sighs and eventually lets go of Lyra's arm "Lyra...you know I love you."

Lyra gulps at his words, feeling a bit awkward “But...this whole secret relationship is getting to me," he adds, he wants to be open with her about how he feels and doesn't want to keep their romance a secret anymore.

Lyra looks at Harry with soft eyes, she knows that they cannot be together publicly because of her family and brother's beliefs "Harry...you know we can't," she says with a slightly regretful expression. "Draco and my family...they won't accept us," she explains.

"Yeah, I know," Harry cuts in, understanding her concern. "But that doesn't mean we can't try. You're their daughter; they'll accept this," he says

She wants to be with Harry, but in the back of her mind, she knows that the relationship was doomed from the start. Perhaps she was being selfish when she started dating Harry, knowing full well that their relationship would eventually break apart because of her family. However, she couldn't help it; she liked him way too much at the time, and now she loves him.

"Harry...you don't know them like I do," she says softly. "Maybe my mother would accept us- even Draco, but my father...he'd rather disown me,"

Harry laughs in disbelief and shakes his head “Lyra im sick of meeting in secret holding ur hand in secret…do you know how much it hurts seeing other guys flirt with you or even ask u on dates- fucking hell i cant even take my girlfriend on a date in public” he ran his hand through his hair “i just want…to hold your hand in front of everyone, hug you kiss you in fhe hallways not in the broom closets or the changing rooms”

He was stressed, between Umbridge and her detentions, the DA classes, and Snape tormenting him, Harry is feeling overwhelmed. And on top of that, he can't help but feel a bit insecure. Maybe Lyra doesn't want to be with him, or perhaps she's ashamed and that's why she doesn't want anyone to know about their relationship.

Lyra groans “Harry I didn’t mean to-“ she stops and immediately takes a few steps backwards when students enter the class. Some of them give the couple weird looks

Harry shakes his head “Well Malfoy” he spits her last name and she cant help but feel hurt “you and your brother need to leave me alone, Im done with you two” With that, he leaves the classroom, bumping into Lyra's shoulder on his way out making her stumble a little

When she spots a group of third year ravenclaws staring and whispering about her, she has had enough.

"What are you looking at?" she snaps, causing them to flinch. "Go back to writing your notes," she adds, before making a swift exit and making her way towards her own common room.

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·..·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

Almost three days had passed since that argument between Lyra and Harry, and they had not spoken since then. The Malfoy girl was starting to feel torn by this distance. These past days had been difficult for her.

She saw Harry frequently in class or alone in the hallways, and he would always avoid her gaze and disappear before she could say a word. Enough was enough, and Lyra refused to wait any longer for a conversation. She would speak to Harry today, whether he liked it or not.

Harry was also struggling. He missed his girlfriend and couldn't help but blame himself for the argument they had. It was his fault, he should have just accepted her "no" and left it at that.

"You're so dumb," he thought to himself, feeling guilty and ashamed. He thought Lyra hated him now, and he couldn't blame her.

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·..·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

"Draco, please stop!"

Lyra hissed, gripping Draco's shoulders tightly but he easily shrugs off her grasp. She is desperate for him to listen, but he pushes her away

"What did you just say about my sister?"

Cornac McLaggen can't help but tremble under the fierce glare that Draco shoots him. If looks could really kill, he would surely be digging his own grave at this moment. Despite the tension, Lyra is too focused on Draco to care about Cornac

"I said I wouldn’t wouldn't mind fucki-..." He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence before Draco, who had caught his breath just in time, threw a bone-shattering punch that left Cormac's jaw hanging by a thread, and Lyra's heart racing with fear.

Lyra grabs her brothers arm to try and stop him. Draco, however, appears to want to deliver another round of punches, which forces Lyra to struggle to restrain him. She screams at him in an attempt to stop him "You will regret that," growled Cormac raising his wand in warning.

"Mess with her again, and I'll make sure that not even Madam Pomfrey can heal you," Draco spat out, struggling against the hold of Blaise and Theo who had just arrived.

"Oppungo!" Cormac yelled as he pointed his wand at the birds that Luna was feeding. But in his rage, he ended up misaiming his spell, sending it towards a couple of large rocks instead.

Cormac, realizing his mistake, seemed more focused on protecting himself from his own spell

When Cormac misfired his spell, Blaise, Theo and Draco immediately ducked to avoid any injuries from the rocks that were barreling towards them. However, Lyra didn't have the same luck. She was blocked by the three large guys standing in front of her, so she didn't see the rocks heading towards her. As a result, she was caught off-guard and hit by one of the heavy rocks, which knocked her to the ground.

"YOU FUCKER!"

Lyra could hear her brother's voice ring out through the air, but a loud pounding in her head was keeping her from seeing anything. She touched her head and felt liquid pouring down her face.

"Lyra, can you hear me?" Blaise's voice reached her ears, but she couldn't manage a response. With her head falling into Blaise's arms, he grew increasingly worried about her condition.

"What's going on?" Snape’s voice cuts through the tense atmosphere and quickly grabs everyone's attention. He looks at Lyra, his concern growing with each passing moment. Then, he turns his focus back on Theo, who is still holding Draco, and Cormac, who stands before them. The latter is shivering in fear.

"Malfoy, follow me." With a quick wave of his wand, Snapce casts a spell. Lyra levitates into the air with ease,

Snape turns to Cormac, his eyes cold and unfeeling. Though his words are brief, they are filled with a deep menace.

"I'll see you ... in my office," he growls.

Snape leaves immediately, making his way to the hospital wing, Cormac, however, is left in sheer dread

.·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·..·:¨¨ ≈☆≈ ¨¨:·.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the Great Hall, seated at their usual table and discussing plans for the next DA meeting.

Unfortunately, however, they were completely unaware of what was happening outside.

Harry couldn't help but often glance towards the door. He was waiting for a certain blonde girl to enter the hall, but she never did. He checked his watch, confused since she was never late.

His confusion only grew as the seconds ticked by. "Where is she," he thought to himself, unable to concentrate on anything but the empty seat at the slytherin table

Cho Chang sits at the Gryffindor table, deep in conversation with Parvati Patil. “Did you hear about Lyra?"

The two girls continue to chat amongst themselves, not realizing that a few heads have turned in their direction. One boy in particular, Harry Potter

He listens closely for a moment, and then can't help but join in on the conversation. "What happened to Lyra?" he asks, turning their attention towards him.

Both Cho and Parvati turn to look at Harry. "Hi, Harry," Cho says sweetly, smiling at him, while Parvati nods in greeting, her blush intensifying.

Parvati quickly adds: "How are you? It's been awhile."

Harry doesn't want to be rude, but he is genuinely concerned about his girlfriend. "What happened to her?" he asks, sounding much more frantic this time.

"Marietta just told me that Cormac McLaggen..." Cho flinches and pauses, sensing the tension in Harry's eyes. Before she can finish what she was saying, Harry abruptly stands up and rushes away from the Great Hall, leaving both her and Parvati behind.

The two girls stare at each other for a moment, confused and surprised by the sudden turn of events. "What just happened?" Cho whispers quietly.

Harry's mind is only focused on one thing - 1) running towards the hospital wing and reaching Lyra. 2) killing Cormac McLaggen

As he speeds through the castle, he ignores the yells of his best friends Ron and Hermione, who beg him to stop.

Just before he reaches the hospital wing, he suddenly sees Theo viciously kicking Cormac on the stomach. The boy's rage flares up, transforming to a blinding red color. He can't control it in this moment. All he can think about is getting back at Cormac, no matter what it takes.

Harry marches up to them in a fit of rage, his anger only intensifying as his eyes focus in on Cormac.

As Theo looks at him with a confused and wary look, Harry simply pushes him aside, unable to hear or care about what anyone has to say in this moment.

"Finally," Cormac mutters out of anger, but he never finishes his sentence. In a flash, he is knocked to the ground by Harry.

"What the fuck mate?.

"I'll kill you!" Harry's rage only intensifies with every word. His grip on Cormac's collar tightens, and he prepares for another round, not intending to stop until Cormac is no longer breathing.

"Be thankful," Harry growls, his tone and expression darkening."Be fucking thankful that she's in the hospital right now, otherwise, you'd be dead for sure."

Harry punches Cormac in the face again, and this time, Cormac's nose breaks with a sickening crack. Blood splatters across the ground, painting it a crimson color as he falls to the ground with a thud

Theo stands in disbelief, his mind racing as he struggles to process the news.

"What the fuck..." he mutters, his voice tinged with confusion and surprise. "Oh Lyra, you little minx,"

Harry storms through the doorway. The force of his entry is so intense that it creates a loud bang, catching the attention of Draco, who immediately turns to face him.

As soon as Draco sees Harry, his face twists into a grimace, unable to hide his anger "What do you want?" he snaps, his frustration and anger growing.

Ignoring him, Harry rushes towards Lyra's bed, his heart breaking as he sees her lying there, so still and vulnerable, her head bandaged.

Draco watches Harry touch Lyra, his eyes darken and his expression changes to one of pure rage. His voice is strong and sharp as he speaks, his eyes locked on Harry “What the hell are you doing, Potter?" he grabs Harrys shoulder and shoves him away

"Let me see her, Malfoy," Harry says, his voice as calm and cold as ice.

"I said leave," he says through clenched teeth. "You have no reason to be here."

"I have every fucking reason to be here," Harry snaps back, his anger boiling over. He glares at Draco, his whole body taut with frustration and desperation.

Draco laughs "Name one then, asshole."

"She's my-- "

“H-Harry is that..you” Harry is cut off as another voice calls out from the other side of the room. They both rush over to Lyras bed. Draco is too focused on the situation at hand to even notice that it was Harry's name that the girl just said.

Draco kneels before Lyra, his face full of worry and concern. “Lyra, are you okay? Does it hurt that much?" He softly takes her face in his hands and looks at the bandages on her head. “I’ll write to father”

Lyra tries to sit up, but she quickly winces in pain, unable to get up. “No don't write to them," she whispers, fear evident on her voice She doesn't want to get into more trouble with her parents,

Harry cannot hold back any longer, "Lyra baby," he whispers, taking her hands and holding them “I'm so sorry," he continues, kissing her hands.

"I should've been there," he says, full of regret and remorse. He knows that if he had been there, she would not be in this condition.

Draco watches the two with wide eyes, his jaw dropping in disbelief. He has always seen Harry as the enemy, and this moment throws him for a loop, making him unable to process what he's seeing.

He tries to speak, but the words stick in his throat. His heart races as he watches the pair show affection towards one another like they never have before.

Lyra's face softens as Harry kisses her hands, his tenderness warming her heart. She knows that he's feeling guilty and trying to make “It's okay, H," she says, her voice quiet. "It isn't your fault," she adds, her words filled with understanding and forgiveness.

As she looks at Harry, it's as if her heart skips a beat. Her gaze is one of pure affection and love.

Draco can't believe his ears, or his eyes. He can't help but wonder if this is all just one big joke, or if there really is something going on between the two of them.

“H?" he yells. "Baby? What the fuck is happening?" Her brother’s face is filled with anger and hurt as he faces both Lyra and Harry. His voice is loud and frustrated, as he tries to make sense of the situation that’s in front of him

Lyra's eyes widening as she only then notices that her brother is in the same room as well. She tries to remove her hands from Harry's grasp, but he doesn't let go, shaking his head. 'Draco, it's not what you think,' she pleads.

“Oh?” Draco says in a mocking tone. 'Then please enlighten me, my dear sister. Because to me it looks like it,' he adds, letting out a cold laugh that chills Lyra through and through.

"Malfoy, calm down," Harry says firmly, gripping Lyra's hand to reassure her.

Draco looks at him furiously, his gaze full of raw hatred as he tries to contain the rage that is boiling

"You fucking shut up," he spits out, his eyes locked on Harry's face. "You don't get to speak. It's better if you leave."

This is it, this is your chance, Lyra thinks to herself “No” she looks at her brother “My boyfriend isn’t leaving”

"B-boyfriend? How could you do this?!" Draco yells angrily. "He's our enemy."

Lyra speaks up, and her voice is firm.

"He's your enemy, Draco, not mine."

Her words make Draco's jaw drop. How dare she take Harry's side?

"Did you even think about me before going with him?" Draco yells furiously. "For fucks sake, Lyra, what were you thinking?"

Lyra rolls her eyes. "Grow up, Draco," she replies. "Just because he rejected your handshake doesn't mean you still have to be butthurt over it."

Harry looks guilty as he realizes that Lyra wasn't ready for this to happen, Draco shakes his head in disappointment.

"I see," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Well, don't let me ruin your little romantic moment. By all means, continue."

Lyra glances at him in frustration, about to say something, but Draco quickly slams the door.

"He'll understand," Harry lets a sigh

Lyra stares at the door through which Draco just left, tears in her eyes.

"I know," she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion. "It will take him time. Way too much time" Her voice trails off as if she can't say anything more

She makes some space for him so he can lay beside her “Anyway did Cormac get detention?”

"That idiot" Harry mumbles. "He has no idea what's coming for him."

Lyra lets out a soft snicker, amused by Harry's words. "Harry," she says, her tone chiding. "You're already in deep shit with Umbridge. You don't need to dig your own grave even more."

"I don't care about her," Harry says, his tone brushing off any further discourse. "All I care about is you."

Lyra smiles and lays her head down on Harry's chest, relieved to hear the words she'd been waiting for. She closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms and his tender touch.

She feels safe with Harry, her worries and worries melted away in his embrace. She is finally at peace, knowing that she's with the one she loves.

Harry looks at her eyes, softening as his gaze meets hers. He brings her closer, his love for her palpable in every touch.

"Everything will be fine, my love," he whispers. "I promise you that it will."

He kisses her gently on the forehead, trying to convey the reassurance and love he feels for her.

#harry potter #marauders #harry potter hogwarts game #hp marauders #harry potter imagine #harry james potter #harry x reader #harry x oc #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x oc #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter fanfic #harry james potter imagine #draco malfoy #malfoy girl #malfot sister

[dcbbw]

Catch and Release

I’m back, Tumblr! Unsure if anyone even realized I was gone, but I have missed sharing stories with you guys. I am slowly easing my way back into writing on a somewhat semi-regular basis; currently working on a couple of items on my WIP Wishlist, and Stormholt.

First up is a story that is my “hold my beer” response to a recent conversation I had with @ao719 about how Liam would never be a cold-hearted asshole EVER, even in the face of betrayal. This is a rewrite of the Drake and candles scene during the Homecoming Ball, sans assassins.

This is a one-shot, but already toying with an alternate version ….

THANK YOU to all who read this over in parts and pieces! The key smashes and follow-up questions reminded me why I love writing, and sharing on this hellsite.

To those who will read this, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated more than you realize.

Please excuse any and all typos, grammatical errors, and missing/extraneous words. MS Editor rates this piece as 99% error free.

Song Inspo: Fine Line, Harry Styles

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Drake x Riley

Rating: M for Mature for a smallish, unripe lemon

Word Count: 3,213

I can’t breathe.

My arms are stiff by my sides, hands tightly clenched into fists. The pain in my heart aches and pulses with every breath I draw. The rage that boils my blood also tightens my throat. Images flicker through my brain, snapshots of the scene I walked in on.  Even as my mind reels from the betrayal and my heart falls into a million pieces that shred me from the inside out, I still try to justify and deny.

My eyes are fixed on my fiancée who still sits on the edge of her bed; her eyes are trained on her slip-covered lap. I notice the fingers of one of her hands comb through her hair; the other hand lays limply against silk sheets.

Her skin is golden in the candlelight, her hitched sobs mixing with the crackle and hiss of the wax torches’ flames.  For reasons known only to Drake and Riley, there are dozens of lit candles covering nearly every available surface. No lamplight, no overhead lighting.

Just candles.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and the only woman I’ve ever hated.

No. I don’t hate her, not really. But in this very moment, I see why crimes of passion are committed.

Drake. Naked. Kissing her neck before their lips lock in a heated kiss.

Riley. Clad in only a slip. One of her hands stroking his member as she slides to her knees.

“Liam,” she says softly in a quavering voice.

I shake my head slowly. “No, Riley. Whatever you have to say right now, I don’t want to hear it.”

She swings her leg; it’s a nervous habit she has. One of the swings increases into a stretch and I wonder if it’s deliberate.  Her leg is long and tanned; my eyes take in a luscious thigh leading into a toned calf that flows into a shapely ankle. Her perfectly manicured toes point downward as she arches her foot.

Her limb is suspended for a moment too long before it falls.

The moment it takes for my cock to stiffen and butterflies to take up residence in my stomach.

She turns her face towards me; I see her lipstick smeared across her mouth, shiny streaks on her cheeks, and regret in her eyes.

Regret. Not remorse.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” Her voice is thick with tears.

Our relationship has been littered with apologies … always from me … beginning with our first meeting. If I could, I would laugh at the irony that the one apology I find myself repeating stemmed from accusations of the American suitor being unfaithful to the future King.

The rumors weren’t so unfounded after all.

This is her first admission of guilt and/or wrongdoing our entire time together.

She has no choice.

I attempt a deep inhale, but my chest is too tight.

The wedding is in one week.

“Yes, Liam yes!!! A THOUSAND TIMES, yes!”

Tonight is the Homecoming Ball; a celebration of many things, including our engagement.

I caught her … them … the woman I love madly, truly, deeply and the man I trust more than anything in the world … preparing to indulge in an act I consider so sacred, I have never dared to ask her to perform it while we are merely engaged.

I manage to choke out a single question. “Why?”

Her shoulders slump as her head falls forward, causing her hair to cover her profile. “It hasn’t been going on long; it started on the Engagement Tour. I told him in Vegas that what we had would have to end.”

I watched her leave the stag-and-doe party arm-in-arm with Drake Walker. My best friend, with whom Riley wanted to have a fling. She swore it was a one-time affair; she was so much in love with me, but she wished to satisfy her curiosity.

I attempted to leave first, but I was not only one of the honorees, I was also King.

Per traditional protocol, the King is the last to leave.

So I remained behind, drinking copious amounts of American liquor, making small talk in a loud voice so as to be heard over noisy music, and dancing with women I had previously rejected.

All while Riley spent the night with another man.

“But it hasn’t,” I interrupt harshly, abruptly.

Her gaze lands briefly upon me, an irritated scowl marring her features. “I don’t love him,” she says simply, as if that excused everything.

I turn away from her; as disgusted as I am, I still find Riley Brooks distractingly desirable. I say that as if we’ve been treading this road of infidelity and discovery for years and years. Except it’s only been months since we first met, and if I hadn’t come looking for her this evening, I still would be none the wiser.

She was in my arms, kissing me deeply as we waltzed our way around the ballroom barely an hour ago. 

We beamed brightly at each other and the crowd as the gathering toasted us with champagne and strawberries.

I smoked a celebratory cigar with Drake.

An hour ago, I was the luckiest man in the world. I was happy.

Now ... I’m heartbroken.

I stumble my way towards a wingback chair, pausing to shrug out of my dinner jacket and drape it across the back of it. I sit heavily, legs spread slightly apart; I push off my shoes and undo my tie while maintaining eye contact with my fiancée.

“I’m highly upset with you, Riley. This … this has hurt me. Deeply.”

“I know,” she whispers as the back of her hand swipes at errant tears. “Other than promising that this will never happen again, what can I do to make it up to you?”

The pad of my forefinger taps my chin thoughtfully as my eyes scan the room. I see the flames flicker and dance in silhouette against the walls. One of Drake’s shoes lies on its side near her night table.

When I cleared my throat to announce my presence, his eyes had gone wide as his face paled. Drake gathered his clothing, trying vainly to make eye contact with Riley; however, she was suddenly fascinated with the pattern decorating the carpet.

I could practically hear his unspoken question to her: What does this mean for us?

In less than a minute, my “best friend” was half-dressed and ran out, not speaking one word to either me or Riley.

“I’m not sure. You know I harbor trust issues about being open, honest … vulnerable, with women. No one’s ever wanted Liam for Liam; I have always been merely a conduit to bigger and better.”

And apparently, best friends.

“Liam, I love YOU. Not your moniker, not your wealth. Tonight … with Drake … was a moment of weakness!  YOU are my bigger and better!

I arch an eyebrow.  “Whatever the excuse, your love for me doesn’t diminish the lust you have for him.”

She has the decency to look ashamed.

“Please, Liam! It won’t happen again, I swear it! You mean too much to me! Just tell me how to make this up to you!”

Her pleas are urgent, not fervent. Insincere, almost.

I find the lack of apology perturbing.

 It is obvious she has no idea the jeopardy she has put me, and our relationship in. Very few at Court are in favor of our impending nuptials due to the simple fact that a union with a foreign commoner yields nothing for the Crown. A marriage with Riley does not increase Cordonia’s landholdings; it does not give the country seats at tables where we are already overlooked; I, and by extension Cordonia, gain absolutely nothing from this.

Riley is the only winner here.

And I don’t care.

The last thing my country is worried about is its fiscal health. Our prosperity is guaranteed for the next 80 generations without investments and development. All I wanted from Riley was her love and loyalty; with that, I would be able to scale mountains and slay dragons. But even the bare minimum I require is too much for her to give.

But I’m in love with her. Even now, I can’t not be with her in some fashion. I need to know that she is still mine, even if only in the basest of ways.

I unfasten my belt buckle and undo my pant button; my cock is uncomfortably hard. I crook my finger, beckoning her to me, wondering how many times the woman I have put first, the woman who influences my thoughts, actions, my very decisions has given me sloppy seconds.

An expression fleetingly crosses Riley’s face; I am uncertain if it’s hope or smugness. After a moment’s hesitation, her walk of shame towards me is contrite, yet confident. Like a child who knows they’ve done wrong but realizes a way of escaping punishment.

I tug my zipper down before slipping my hand inside to release my raging erection. The head of my cock is purplish in the muted lighting and pre-cum leaks from the tip. My hips arch upwards as I begin to pull my pants and underwear down. My eyes glance up to see Riley standing expectantly before me.

It reminds me of our first meeting in that bar in Brooklyn.

“A little help would be nice,” I quip with a small smile that doesn’t feel quite right.

She kneels before me, pulling and tugging at my trousers and silk boxers. My eyes are trained on the rounded tops of her cleavage as my hand slowly slides along my member. Once Riley’s task is finished, she looks up at me with repentant eyes.

“Do you forgive me, Liam?” Her voice is hesitant, her tone tentative.

I lean forward, the back of my fingertips caressing the curve of her cheek. “I’m in love with you, Riley. There’s nothing to forgive,” I assure her in a soft whisper.

She leans into my palm. “I love you so much. I’ll never lie to you, or hurt you ever again,” she promises.

I aim my cock towards her plump lips, still smeared from her earlier kiss with Drake. Small halos of smoke wreath her hair.

“Would you … could you … perform oral on me?” My voice is shy, hesitant. Even in the face of her obvious infidelity, I am uncomfortable asking her this.

Her eyes fill with relief that forgiveness would come so easily, and wariness at the request. “You’ve never asked for that before.”

I lock eyes with her before quietly replying, “We’re betrothed.”

She nods in understanding. If that act is good enough for her lover, it’s certainly good enough for the man who will make her Queen.

Riley places her palms flat against the top of my thighs; her head dips and I feel the tip of her tongue lightly lick my balls. It tickles, but no mirth escapes my lips. Without thought my hand drifts to the top of her head, fingers combing through her soft hair.

The flat of her tongue licks wetly up the underside of my cock while she cups a hand to fondle my balls. I stare down at her cleavage, the rounded tops of her breasts teasing me as they rise and fall in time with her breathing and ministrations.

My head falls back against the chair’s headrest when her mouth opens wide enough to engulf half of my cock. When she has a tad over half of me in her mouth, she hollows her cheeks and snakes her tongue around my erection while stroking its base.

Memories and images flash in my mind as my hand tightens its grip on her hair.

Kismet.

The Masquerade Ball

Hedge Maze

Cronuts

Forgotten Falls

Deep pants escape my lips as I simultaneously lift my head and slide down further into the chair; my hips arch upwards. Riley’s head bobs as she sucks me. A thin line of drool ekes from a corner of her mouth. My cock eases deeper down her throat, and my hand pulls and pushes at her head to get to take all of me.

I close my eyes as her warm mouth tightens around me.

Coronation Night

Fydelia

Barn Raising

Italy

Her gagging breaks my reverie and hardens my cock even more. I sit up, my palms pressed against either side of her skull as I begin fucking her mouth. Her eyes are closed; bliss or boredom, I don’t know. Her lashes are dark against her skin.

“Look at me,” I order in a voice that isn’t mine.

Obediently her eyes open; her jaw and chin are wet with spittle and pre-cum. She continues to suck me, emitting low moans over my member. My strokes get faster, longer, rougher. My balls are heavy, and I feel a tightening in my muscles before the last image flashes before me.

The scene I walked in on.

With a harsh yank, I pull her even further down onto my cock as I push myself down her esophagus as far as I can. A primal yell rips from my throat as an intense orgasm comes over me. My body shudders and convulses as ropes of white cream pulse out of me.

As my seed fills my fiancée’s mouth and spills down her throat, I forcefully tug her hair so she is looking up at me; her eyes are questioning.

It takes me a moment to compose myself and catch my breath. I watch Riley swallow all that I have given her.

“The engagement is off. Our relationship is over. I am finished, do you understand me?” My voice is gravelly, tone firm. “You shall retain your title of Duchess, and ownership of Duchy Valtoria, but you will never be my Queen.”

Fright and fear fill her eyes. The heels of her hands press deeper into my flesh as she attempts to pull away from my cock, but I don’t relinquish my hold.

“A press release will go out tomorrow afternoon, after security and housekeeping move you and your belongings to the South Wing.  I think you will appreciate being closer to Drake Walker.”

I release Riley’s hair, and she falls back on her haunches.

“WHAT are you talking about??” she demands angrily.

I stand and begin collecting my clothing; I step into my boxers, glancing over at her.

“I trust you fully comprehend what I just stated. I believe I communicated openly and honestly what our next steps are. Already, I have offered you more than you or Drake have ever given me.”

I glance at her left hand; the engagement ring glints in the light. “I would like my ring back, please.”

I am tucking my shirt into my pants when I see her rise from the floor and come at me, fists flailing. Her pummels upon my arm and shoulder are no surprise.

“YOU BASTARD! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” she rasps as her fists beat on my shirt. “YOU JUST SAID THERE IS NOTHING TO FORGIVE!”

I do not defend myself against the attack; I merely sidestep and continue dressing.

“And there isn’t. I will once again assume the guilt and blame for your lack of transparency and communication. But this is the last time. We’re over.”

I reach for my jacket from the back of the chair and begin to pull it on. Riley’s face is twisted in rage and hurt; her eyes are narrowed into slits.

I look her over impassively and hold my hand out, palm up. “The ring, Lady Riley.”

“FUCK YOU,” she shrieks. “This is ALLLL your fault, and you KNOW IT! If you had never picked Madeleine …”

“I picked her because neither you nor your lover felt the need to tell me what happened in Applewood, something I have never been offered an assurance or reason for. I made a decision for your safety and protection with absolutely no context. I have apologized and explained this to you over and over and over again.”

Riley blanches before playing her last card. “My BEST protection would’ve been with you, under your care!”

“My engagement to Madeleine was the most viable protection. With all eyes on me and my fiancée, it took the target off you, and freed up our friend circle to freely pursue Tariq with the aid of my HEAD GUARD!”

I cut my eyes at her. “Presumably you were too busy justifying spending all of your time with another to even consider that I was the doing the very best I could in a situation that I was blindly thrust into.”

I jostle my hand impatiently. “The ring,” I remind her.

Her mouth hangs open slightly, her eyes baffled as she slowly pulls off the engagement ring. Her fingers hover above my palm before dropping the jewelry into it.

“Liam, why are you doing this to me? To us?” she asks brokenly.

I am slipping the ring into my jacket pocket; I pause to look up at her in puzzlement.

“Me? You did this, Riley. You have been holding onto one incident our entire relationship while committing multiple transgressions against my love for you. You accepted my proposal. You betrayed my trust when it was unnecessary. I’ve been the one saying sorry, being tormented by guilt, feeling less than for not being there to protect and defend you. And the whole while, you were with Drake.”

“I was single when I was with Drake!” she hollers.

“Were you single after accepting my proposal? Were you single tonight when you were getting on your knees for him?” I challenge in a cold voice.

Riley looks around helplessly before offering more feeble excuses. “I was tipsy! He caught me in a moment of weakness! I SWEAR to you, it’ll never happen again!”

I am at the door, my hand on the doorknob, twisting it.

“Liam, you still love me! I never stopped loving you. We can work through this!” Her words are rushed, laced with desperation.

But they strike a nerve, sparking hope.

 My head drops and my eyes close; my feelings and her words tumble in my brain. I breathe out a deep sigh and turn to look at her.

“You want me to forgive you, yet you have never forgiven me.”

The door is slightly ajar and light from the hall spills into the doorway; chatter and merriment from the party can be heard. It muffles the last break of my heart. But I do not leave immediately. Instead, my hand falls from the knob, and I deliberately make my way back to her.

The merest of fractions separates us. My eyes take in her tousled hair, ruined makeup, her curves and swells making an hourglass of the slip.

I pull her in for an embrace, which she eagerly responds to. Her body fits perfectly against mine as it always has. Familiar scents assail my nostrils: strawberry shampoo, coconut rose lotion, jasmine and vanilla perfume.

I wonder if I’m making a mistake.

“Riley, I am in love with you but it’s apparent that even with all my wealth and resources, it isn’t enough for you. I’m not enough for you. We both deserve to be people who will find us ... sufficient, not supplemental.”

She is silent as tears fill her eyes again; I brush them away from her lashes and cheekbones before I place a gentle, lingering kiss on her forehead.

Her lack of reassurances and promises tells me I’m not.

“Thank you for giving me the Drake Walker treatment,” I say politely as my eyes burn from smoke and unshed tears.

And I let her go.

Her hand reaches for me, but she lets it fall as she watches me exit the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

Tagging: @jared2612 @marietrinmimi @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @beezm@gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @gardeningourmet @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @lovingchoices14 @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @queenjilian

#dcbbw writes #trr au fanfic #liam x riley #drake x riley #writer on tumblr #it's been 84 years

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Daddy's #1

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Warning: Daddy kink, creampie, Blow job, Jealousy sex, Spanking, Dirty talk, Teasing and Mocking, Cuckholding, Ownership, Boss-employee/ lovers relationship, hair pulling,Dealmaking, Power Domenic, Mean Austin (well not the reader), Cumming in pants Just nasty stuff ya know the drill.

Summary: Austin Butler was your pimp and you were his number 1 money-maker. Austin needed to make a deal with another pimp, Daddy Harry so Austin took you with him and Harry take an interest in you. Your Daddy is not happy bout it so he shows just how much you belong to him, you and Harry.

A/n: Sorry for this taking so long but here it is! Also for those who don't know one of Austin's favorite colors is blue.

Austin kisses your neck and down to the valley between your breasts, his big hands kneading them before pushing them against his face and he shakes his head; motorboating himself as he blows raspberries. You giggle and laugh at his goofiness. Running your fingers through his hair and spoke up "What's wrong daddy?" "How'd you know?" Austin mutters between your boobs. "well I recall you saying "Nothing makes everything better but your breasts"." You mimicked his deep voice " What?" he raised his head and his eyebrow "I said you make everything better." He corrected you and you just grinned at him "Same thing." Austin shook his head in playful disbelief "Please, tell me." you begged him.

" I have to make a deal with another pimp," Austin rolled his eyes before he looked at you lustfully "You're gonna come with me but for now let's finish what we started." He smirked kissing along your jawline, his cock twitching inside of your cunt, distracting you from asking more."O-oh, Daddy." You mewled hopelessly as he began to pound you into the mattress as if he'd die if he didn't.

It was Saturday, the day of Daddy Austin's deal and you waiting to hear the familiar sound of his car horn, while you waited you looked over your makeup and lingerie in the body mirror beside the door of your apartment. You had on a rose-gold shadow with a dark brown on the corner of your eyes, blended perfectly with clear lip gloss to make your lips shine. You wear Austin's favorite set, it was baby pink with gold hearts paired with pink high heels and a light pink choker with another gold heart in the middle. Your hair was on the side to show off Daddy Austin's ownership over you, a tattoo of his first initial with a king's crown on top.

You smiled softly to yourself, it was wrong to be in love with your boss, you knew it. But It was hard not to. You met him when your friend suggested that you get a job at the club that open up 5 months ago, giving your dance history, you considered it. Blue, purple, pink, and white lights flashed around you when you had laid eyes on him, he was sitting on a VIP couch, laughing with what seemed to be his friends and a girl, a stripper in his arm.

You played with the hem of your shirt, you needed this job! So with a shaky breath, you quickly made your way to the VIP section. "S-sir?" you gulped as the whole group turned to you "I..um—" "You can't be here." the raven-haired woman under Austin's arm glared at you. "Can I help you?" Austin's voice was surprisingly deep and smooth "I need a job a-and a friend said you're hiring, right?" you stuttered. the girl scoffed and opened her mouth to say something but stopped when Austin stood up "Let's talk more in my office," He smiled and walked you to his office his hand hovering over the small of your back "Oh! I'll see you guys later!" Austin called over his shoulder.

You got the job even though you didn't have much confidence but Austin helped you along the way. It wasn't long before you became the crowd's favorite. The girl that glared at you, Scarlett, whose you've learned was her name, was not happy about it before you came, she was top dog and she was gonna let Austin know that but she didn't get the chance.

BEEP!

You inhaled and grab the long white fur coat Daddy Austin bought for your birthday, you quickly put it on, and grabbed your purse, keys, and phone. You locked the door to your apartment and ran as fast as you could in your heels to the pretty light blue Cadillac. Austin always had a love for old things, cars were no exception that was one of the many things you love about him. Austin didn't spare a glance at you as you got in the car, his hand on the wheel was white from how hard he was holding it.

You put your hand on his knee and his tensed body relaxes at your touch, as he puts the car on drive, he holds your hand for the whole ride, you don't say anything. knowing sometimes he needed silence to think and calm down. You realized why he hated this deal when you pulled to 'Falling.' one of Pimp Harry Styles's clubs, he and Austin had some kind of rivalry, and Austin felt like Harry was always upstaging him despite being just as a successful pimp and clubs owner.

Austin got out of his Cadillac and opened your car door, offering his arm to you which you took with a smile. You leaned more into his body and hummed a tune, feeling his warmth as he walked you into the lively stripper club, the music boomed loudly but you could barely hear it, it was like every time you were alone with Austin it was only you and him in the world. You gently massage his arm, doing your best to help, he only brings you to deals if he doesn't like the pimp or is uneasy around them. He doesn't say it out loud but you knew; you've become a safe space for him, someone to go to when he's in his head too much because you bring him down to earth.

"Austin! Welcome mate." Harry greeted, his curly hair resting again on his jawline, his black suit jacket sparkling in the fleshing purple and red lights, Harry smirked as his green orbs laid upon you "Who is this beautiful lady?" he asked without looking away from you "Her stage name is Cherry Valentine, and that's all you'll know." Austin spat "it's a pleasure to meet you miss Cherry," Harry said taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles all the while looking up at you from behind his long beautiful brown lashes. Austin's jaw clenched.

You smile at him shyly as he lets your hand go "Let's go somewhere private, so we can talk about business." He said leading you to a VIP room you take this time to look around, Two beautiful women dance on the stage, one on the pole while the other seductively rolls her hips, Men and women rain them with money, and there's laughing, and talking, people taking shots as they watch the girls perform. "Here we are." Harry opens a door, and a single purple C-couch sat in the middle with a circular stage with a silver glittery polstandingod in front and the carpet is a furry white. You and Daddy Austin sat on the right side of the cushioned couch, facing Harry "Darling!" he called and like Magic, a girl with back-length pink hair walked dressed in a baby blue baby doll With black heels carrying a tray with two glasses of whisky. "Thank you." Austin sends her a smile, grabbing a glass, a blush spreads across her pale cheeks "Thank you, dear." Harry said taking a sip, "I recently have gotten a few new women, Some from Africa, Japan, and Puerto Rico. I haven't marked them yet, of course, and I thought why not have a mate get some, they're trained well and follow orders of reasonable command " Harry leaned back.

"Thank you but my girls are enough," Austin assured "Mate what bout your other clubs? I know 'Blue suede' is as popular as 'Falling'—" Harry started "They perform excellently." Austin fired back now full-on glaring "oh..So does she perform excellently?" Harry asked his eyes racking down your lingerie form, licking his bottom lip, his green orbs darkening. Austin leaned back, an idea in mind and a smirk on his face with a devilish glint in his icky blues "She's better than excellent." he replied, looking at you with an unreadable emotion as he stroked your cheek gently before tapping your chin.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling while you shrug off your coat, letting it drop to the floor, you knew exactly what that meant. You put your knees on the couch and pulled his hardening cock out of his black dress pants, you swirled your tongue around the tip of his large cock, moaning at the taste of his salty pre-cum, you exhaled as he had trained you, and with an inhale you took his whole length down your throat, saliva leaked out from corners of your mouth your arousal created a darker pink of you light pink underwear, you bobbed your head along his member, and drool pooled around the base of his cock and pants. Austin watches harry focusing on the sight of his girl choking and gagging around his dick, his smirk growing wider, he grabbed your hair and forces himself down your tight throat without a warning, Harry groans as his cock forms a tent in his black pants.

Austin kept you there for a good 10 seconds before pulling you off and just as you take a sharp inhale Austin pulled you off the couch and pushed you toward Harry, you yelped as you catch yourself on harry's knees "Oh, I'm so sorry—" you started but was interrupted as you felt Austin pulling down your panties and pushes himself roughly into you, making you grip Harry's knees tighter to stop from crushing head first onto him. You looked everywhere but harry, Austin gripped your hips hard so that it would surely leave bruises as he pushed back you onto his dick, his thrusted had started slowly and deeply, his balls smacking against your clit "Fucking look at him." Austin growled grabbing a hold of your hair and forcing you to make eye contact with Harry, as he pounded into you. You could barely hold in your moans, he typically wasn't this rough.

Austin spanked your ass with his other hand leaving a sharp sting sd on your right cheek, "you love this cock, don't you baby?" he asked slapping your ass again harder this time "YES! L-love it so much!" you shouted cock drunk as you fought to keep looking at harry. The said man gulped, his dick stirring wake in his pants, a tent taking from as he is helpless to do anything that is if he wanted, Harry bit his lip to stop from moaning, your breasts bouncing his face. Suddenly you and Harry were brought back to reality when Austin laughed cruelly "Aww Harry 'Mate' are you turned on? So desperate for My woman that you're hot and bothered from watching me fuck her? Pathetic Harry even for you." Austin smirked looking Harry in the eyes as you nearly scream at his rough, animalistic pounding, it was getting too much, you are close and you were sure Austin could tell by your clenching walls.

Daddy Austin pulled out, and before you whined he manhandled you to sit on Harry's lap with your back against his chest, forcing your ass on harry's hard on, Austin thrusted himself back inside of your hot core and resumed his wild pounding, you moaned and whimpered, rolling your hips up. Austin's long fingers rubes your swollen clit with a hectic pace all the while you were in your world of pleasure, you couldn't hear Harry's soft moans and whines from the friction of your butt against his clothed dick, he clawed at the poor couch. You let out a long, loud moan as you reach your climax, Austin grunted, filling your abused pussy with his steaming hot cum, and harry swallowed down his moans, his cum filing his boxers, wishing it was him cumming inside you.

Austin jerks his cock out causing a little river of his seed to flow out of you, his chest rose up and down from his heavy panting, and after calming down Austin runs his fingers through his messy-sex hair and pulled himself back his pants, he quickly fixed his suite "Come on baby it's time to go." his deep voice a raspy, you with a little trouble got off Pimp Harry's lap and grabbed your coat, you wrapped it around but with you walked to your pimp, your feet give out just before you hit the ground Austin caught you in his strong arms and without sparing a look at harry, he makes his way to his car.

Austin gently kissed your forehead as he laid you in the passenger seat, he put the seat bait around your fucked-out yourself, shut the car door, and walked to the driver's seat. The drive was quiet but comfortable, when you stop at a red light, the street lights created a tan-like color on you both Austin called out your name softly, you turned your head and focused on him "Yeah Daddy?" you spoke just as softly Austin stay silent for a moment before he lifts his jacket and shirt to his chest, there on his hip, close by his v-line was a tattoo of your name initials in big, black cursive writing and a crown with light pink and blue jewels on top, a large lavender heart-shaped jewel inside of the front "I'm yours." He spoke up finally not taking his eyes off the road.

You smiled.

He loved you as you loved him.

Taglist: @babyxshy, @lovincherries @godlypresley, @galaxygirl453 @plasticfantasticl0ver, @dre6ming @lanadelray-gurl @purejasmine

#elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #elvis 2022 #austin elvis imagine

[stylesharrys]

hot distraction [bisexual!y/n]

authors note: a little cheeky subby!y/n smut for you guys, had this idea in my drafts for months and months but i never really got round to writing it. anyway, here you go darlings, enjoy <3

warnings: dom/sub relationships, unprotected sex, kissing, teasing, swearing, spanking, dirty talk, anal (fingering)

word count: 2,862

summary: y/n breaks up with her girlfriend and harry helps take her mind off things.

//

Harry has no idea what to do. He’s never seen her cry before and he doesn’t know if he should give her a hug or try to make light of the situation.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

Harry’s even more confused than he was before. He’ll never ever understand women’s emotions. And by the sight before him, he doesn’t think he ever wants to.

“S’okay, petal. It hurts now but it’ll be a distant memory in a few weeks time.”

She scoffs at him, at his sorry attempt to cheer her up. Y/N doesn’t need or want pity. She wants to warn off all women and whore it up for a little bit.

If she’s honest, the breakup has been a long time coming. They’d only been together six months but things weren’t the same as when they first met.

Alora was a beautiful woman, funny and kind. But the first few times of fooling around were a lot more exciting than six months in, where her sex drive seemed to just vanish.

Y/N has thought that perhaps she was the problem. Maybe she craves sex too much and too often and that’s the issue. She also thought that maybe she secretly had a fear of commitment and that’s what made her more than okay with Alora calling things off.

She knows now that’s not the case. Alora was seeing other people behind Y/N’s back. Given, they never really spoke about being exclusive, but Y/N had just assumed that if Alora was seeing other people, she’d have the decency to let Y/N know.

And now, she’s about ready to swear off all women.

She stands from the sofa, wiping the tears from her face and taking a shaky breath. There’s no way in hell she’s going to ruin her Friday night sobbing over another woman. No fucking chance.

“Do you have plans tonight?” she asks Harry, chin raised as she acts unbothered by her situation.

Harry shakes his head. “No, why? You wanna go out?”

Her lip is taut between her teeth as she considers the proposition. A night out could be perfect – sex with a hot, random stranger will most definitely take her mind off things.

She nods, once. But it’s like Harry can smell the hesitation. He squints at her, leaning forward in his spot on the sofa.

“You’re not just wanting to go out so you can have a one night stand, are you?”

“No!” her voice is high-pitched, a dead giveaway that that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

Harry huffs, closing his eyes for a moment. It’s no secret that he’s got the hots for Y/N. He’s always found her incredibly attractive. But in the two years he’s known her, she’s only ever dated women.

He doesn’t think there’s ever even been an instance where she’s acknowledged another man. Harry notices her sheepish expression and his tummy knots and twists.

“If you were into guys…” he mumbles out, more to himself but it still reaches Y/N’s ears and she frowns.

“I am.”

Harry’s head snaps up, staring at her in bewilderment. “You are? I thought you were gay.”

Y/N laughs softly. “I am… slightly. I prefer men usually, but women are just softer and more attentive I find.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, a cocky smirk on his lips. Bingo.

“That just means you’ve never been with the right guys.”

His voice has grown deeper, sultry. And the entire mood of the room has changed. There’s a tension in the atmosphere, one they’re both awfully familiar with but never with one another.

“Is that so?”

They’re dancing on a tight rope between friends and something more, neither too sure who’s going to fall first. It feels naughty, wrong. So wrong to allow this tension, these thoughts.

But there’s nothing inappropriate about it. They’re both single, consenting adults. What would it matter if he kissed her? If she kissed him back? If he spent an hour between her legs and had her creaming all over his cock?

“And from what you’ve been telling me, wasn’t you getting frustrated that Alora was too vanilla?”

Heat rises to her cheeks at his words. Harry moves closer, tips of his fingers ghosting are her bare thighs, the hem of her baggy t-shirt barely covering her knickers underneath.

“Something tells me, you don’t want something soft. You’ve just never been manhandled the way you want, so you’re taking the easier route.”

Y/N has never felt so seen in her life. “Isn’t that right, pet?”

She grows shy under his words, feeling small and vulnerable and her little panties are fucking soaked.

“Maybe,” she squeaks.

Harry’s smirk grows tenfold, eyes dark and lustful. His gaze never leaves her face as he stands in front of her. His tall build towering over Y/N’s.

“Personally, I think you just want to be a good girl…”

His hand finds her face, gently caressing her jaw as he speaks. When her eyes flutter closed absentmindedly, she hears Harry tut before her.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, puppy.”

Her eyes open, wide. All doe-like and fluttery. It awakens that hunger deep in Harry’s stomach – one full of need and desire.

“Y/N… d’you like it when I call you puppy?”

She nods, so innocent and sheepish. It has Harry’s cock twitching in his pants. God, she’s going to be the death of him.

Y/N’s nuzzling her face into his hand, eyes heavy but open, like she doesn't want to be scolded by Harry. He pouts down at her, a look of sympathy in his eyes and Y/N’s never felt so warm and safe.

“My poor petal, all touch starved and needy.”

It’s like a flip has been switched within her. She’s no longer that bubbly and bratty girl he’s always known. She’s soft and quiet, desperate and eager to please and Harry is stretching out his boxers.

“Go in your bedroom for me, puppy. Want you naked with your legs spread.”

He places a gentle kiss to her lips, barely offering a taste of what’s to come. The act has her heart leaping before she rushes to her bedroom to rid herself of any clothes.

She’s never allowed herself to look at Harry in the way she is now. She always told herself that friends are only friends and never to indulge in anything else with them.

Y/N can admit that she’s always found him attractive, always enjoyed his company and mayb often stared a little too long whenever he was topless or when the veins in his arms and hands were that little bit more visible than usual.

She supposes he’s always had some sort of chokehold on her, something she’s never thought too deep about. But now, she can’t get out of her head. Laying naked on her bed, legs spread as he approaches her bedroom door.

She’s pulsing, cunt hot and leaking. God, she doesn't remember the last time she felt this turned on, this excited, this ready to submit completely.

Whatever he wants, she’ll give him. Whatever he offers, she’ll take.

Harry eyes her as he enters her bedroom, gaze focused on that weeping little cunt. He’s holding his breath, fighting back a wanton cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so sexy in his life.

Y/N watches with glossy eyes as he tugs his t-shirt over his head, the ripples of his golden skin exciting her more. If he’ll let her, she’ll happily lick the expanse of every single tattoo adoring his body.

She’ll do anything. Anything.

Her hips begin to squirm as his thumbs loop into the waistband of his shorts and boxers, anticipation getting the better of her. Harry notices, pulls his hands away and raises a brow.

“I don’t remember saying you could move.”

Y/N’s body stills, blood running cold. Her lips are pursed into a thin line – “I’m sorry.” Her words come out shyly, like she’s embarrassed to be told off.

Harry tuts, no longer interested in pulling himself free. Instead he moves toward the foot of the bed and climbs up on his knees, sitting between her shaking thighs.

Y/N’s chest is heaving in excitement, bottom lip gnawed between her teeth. Harry reaches for her left thigh, gently massaging the soft and supple skin before raising his hand and dropping it again in a harsh smack.

She shrieks at the unexpected impact, brows knitted as she bites back a moan.

Oh, he wasn’t fucking around.

“If you’re sorry then you’ll lay on your tummy and take your punishment.” He flips her over before she has chance to register his words. Flat on her stomach, hands held behind her back, Harry takes her in.

He lets his hand caress her hips for a moment, trailing down to her bum and he smoothes over the skin. “And I don’t want to hear a fucking sound.”

He spanks her once, her entire body jolting. Y/N buries her face into her pillows, suffocating any desperate moans that beg to be cried. She keeps quiet, eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Harry spanks her again, harder this time. His hand print is left on her supple skin and he groans to himself. He spreads her cheeks apart for a moment, allows himself the sight of her dripping cunt, eagerly trying to clench around something.

“Look at you, puppy. So wet and good for me.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack!

Her bottom is sore, stinging as he finally relents. There’s tears in her eyes as she struggles to compose her breathing. She’s not brave enough to admit she almost came from her punishment.

Harry takes a moment to admire his work, how raw her pretty bum is. Her skin is beginning to rise in the form of his handprint, sore and tender. He holds her hips, thumbs rubbing along the stripey lines of silvering stretch marks on the sides of her bum.

“Pretty puppy, did so well for me.”

She coos at his praise, fingers wiggling in an attempt to feel him. Harry chuckles, leaning down to pepper kisses to her bum and up her spine. He fools her with his kindness for a moment, allowing her body to relax under his touch.

But when his lips reach her neck, he grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her head up, teeth nipping at her jaw and nosing at her ear.

“Now you’re going to be a good puppy and let Daddy fuck your pretty little hole, okay?”

Y/N’s cunt throbs at his words. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Fuck, she can’t get it out of her head. Harry releases his hold on her hair, her face dropping back into her pillows as he clambers off her.

He strips from his boxers and shorts, thick length smacking at his lower tummy as he clambers back onto the bed again. Harry’s hard, painfully so and Y/N wants nothing more than to lay on her back and watch him work his way around her body.

But he doesn’t allow that. Instead, his hands find her hips and he’s hoisting her bum in the air, back arched and chest to the mattress with her face buried in the pillows.

The sight is mesmerising and Harry can’t look away. Pretty pussy all wet and plump. The tip of his cock slides through her slit and Harry lets out a shaky whimper. A noise that does not go unheard by Y/N, who’s jaw slacks at the sound of it.

She’s eager for more, gagging for his cock. She’s never felt so submissive in her life, so willing to be used as a fuck toy. And she never would’ve pegged Harry for the type.

Y/N supposes he does possess a lot of dominant qualities. Whenever he speaks, all eyes are on him. Whatever he says, it’s always respected. And when Harry doesn’t like something, nobody challenges him.

It’s been right in front of her the whole time. They’ve both been so blind.

“So pretty, baby. Look at you.”

The praise goes straight to her head. She’s woozy and needy and thinks she might fucking cry if he doesn’t fill her with his cook soon.

“Daddy’s good little puppy. Want me to fill your little hole, baby? Want Daddy to fuck you so hard you can’t even remember your name?”

Y/N’s too deep into subspace to respond, but that’s not a good enough excuse for Harry. He strikes down on her sore bum again and she shrieks, nodding feverishly.

“Yes, Daddy! Please, I’ve been so good.”

The sound of her begging is something Harry will never let himself forget. Her body responds to every tiny touch he offers, she keens for him. For more.

Lining himself at her hole, Harry pushes forward just enough to allow her half of his length. A wanton cry escapes her lips, muffled by her pillow as her body tenses.

Harry gives her little time to adjust to his length, sheathing himself further into her tight hole until he bottoms out.

Y/N struggles to stay quiet, struggles to not reach for him, to touch him. Harry reaches for her hands again, pulling them behind her back and holding her in place by her wrists.

“You’re fucking soaked, puppy.” He praises, breathless at the sight of himself tucked deep inside her.

Harry begins to rock his hips, slowly at first until he finds a comfortable pace and her ass jiggles with every thrust he gives. Y/N’s cunt grips him like a vice, obscene noises filling their ears and Harry decides he wants to hear more.

“Wanna hear you, puppy. Tell Daddy how good it feels.”

Y/N is wailing the second she’s given permission, wild and desperate and begging for more and more and more.

Harry’s thumbing at her puckering asshole, softly smoothing over the taut skin as Y/N begins to buck her hips back into him. He’s seething through gritted teeth, struggling to keep himself together as he gently pushes his thumb into her tight hole.

“Yes, Daddy! Please… please….”

She’s incoherent as she tries to speak, words still muffled and gurgled. She can feel him in her stomach, filling every inch of her body and subconscious mind. As if she exists solely for him, for his pleasure.

“My sweet girl, taking me so well. Look at you, puppy. All dumb for my cock.”

Harry’s thrusts get harder and faster, his thumb lodged deep in her ass as he fucks into her. Y/N’s arousal soaks his pubic bone, skin slapping and gruff moans echoing through.

She can’t stay quiet, not even if she tried. Moans are tearing throug her throat with no sense of hesitancy, her entire body being rocked as Harry pummels into her.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, jaw slack, she’s close. Her cunt begins to tighten around him, desperate to mild him dry for everything he has to offer. And Harry can feel it – he feels every little squeeze she gives him, every spasm of her slick pussy.

His spare hand smacks down on her bum in quick, constant successions, his pace impossibly faster and the breath is knocked from her lungs.

She can’t see, can’t think, can’t hear. It’s like her soul has left; experiencing eternal bliss for the first time in her life. But she feels Harry’s fat cock twitch between her walls, she feels the stinging bite of every spank, she feels her coil begin to tighten and pull.

“You gonna cum, puppy? You gonna cum all over my cock?” Harry pants.

She’s nodding, unable to find her words. It takes her a moment to catch a breath. “Please,” is all she can manage to whimper out, her entire body on fire.

Harry spanks her again, eager and hot moans bubbling from his chest. “Cum, puppy. Make a mess on Daddy’s cock.”

Y/N’s entire body begins to tremble relentlessly, a high pitched whine falling off her tongue as she explodes around him.

Her arousal coates his cock and stomach, squirting out the best it can with Harry’s length still shoved in her cunt. The sight of her squirting all over him has him seeing stars, and he’s quick to pull out, coating her back and bum in thick ribbons of arousal.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

He’s a panting mess as Y/N’s hips fall onto the mattress with a soft thud. He watches her body move gently as she catches her breath, listens to the soft pants that escape her plump lips.

Only now does he realise, he’s yet to kiss her the way he’s been dreaming. Harry crawls beside her, brushing the hair from her face and she’s quick to nuzzle into his touch.

He moves closer, his lips encapsulating hers in a soft and tender kiss. Both their eyes flutter closed and their mouths work in unison, gently. Y/N never knew she’d crave the taste of someones lips until Harry pulls away and rests his forehead against hers.

“Have a nap, puppy. You’ll need your energy for later.”

//

thank you for reading, i'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on this one 🥺

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic

[gucciwins]

Since we've been seeing jealous and insecure harry and bel reassuring harry, do you think you could do something where bel hears Harry's friends saying they're surprised they've lasted because she's not Harry's usual type and then later they run into an ex of his who is the complete opposite of her and she's feeling insecure

this is something many of you have been waiting for and hope I delivered. what better way to start the year with than a harry and bel blurb. happy new year my darling loves💜💜💜

+

Harry promised her a party would be fun. He had finished tour for the year, and being back home, a few friends reached out to come to a party, and he didn’t want to say no. Harry was very persuasive in getting her to say yes. It seemed his kisses were her weakness. 

As soon as they arrived, a crowd came to greet them. Harry ensured he got to introduce everyone to Bel, or how he likes to put it to everyone important. There were so many people that it was hard to keep track of. The music was loud, and drinks were passed all around. Harry held her right by his side, not wanting her to wander off. Harry told her that he’d miss her too much. 

“I need the bathroom, amor,” she whispered in his ear. 

“I can take you, lovie.” He offers. 

She is quick to shake her head. “I can do it.”  

Harry gives her a quick kiss and tells her it’s the third door down the hall. 

Bel is searching for the restroom when she finally finds the hallway and sees two gentlemen talking, Mark and Christian. She remembers them because Harry introduced her to them when they first arrived. She remembered them because they were quick to tease Harry about how long he’s been gone, and when he does show up, it’s with a girl. She excuses herself and goes in to do her business. After washing her hands, she hears a conversation happening outside and freezes. 

“That’s Harry’s girl,” the voice was full of surprise. She recognized it as Christian as he had a thicker English accent. 

“Mhm…” Mark agrees.

“Not his usual type.” 

“Her accent’s different,” Mark remarks. 

Christian responds with, “I thought she’d be more talkative.” 

“Did you see her hanging off his arm?” 

“Harry didn’t seem to mind.” 

“She’s probably a good f–”

Bel swings the door open, knowing she’s heard enough. She doesn’t bother shooting them a polite smile, knowing they don’t deserve it. It isn’t nice hearing someone talk about you behind your back. As she makes her way through the crowd, she feels everyone’s eyes on hers as if they were judging her. 

It honestly makes her skin crawl. She wants to leave. She can’t handle all of this emotionally, and she knows that as soon as she tells Harry, he’ll understand and escort her home. Except, when she finds Harry, he’s in the kitchen with a drink in hand, leaning against the counter, and a gorgeous girl standing a few feet away. 

“Harry,” she breathes out softly.

“Bel,” his arm settles around her waist, and Bel hums at the feeling. It helps ground her. 

“Caroline. I’m his ex,” Caroline offers proudly.

Bel frowns but is quick to wipe it from her face. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Bel.” 

“Huh, Harry was just talking about you.” Caroline laughs, but it sounds more like a scoff to Bel. “He said you were beautiful, but I’ve got to say you’re honestly gorgeous.” 

Bel laughs, not at all having expected the compliment. “You as well. Love the tinsel in your hair really makes your eyes pop.”

“Oh, you’re a doll. Keep this one longer than you kept me, Harry.” Caroline throws a wink her way and walks away. Harry shifts uncomfortably, not at all liking the conversation. 

“You okay, Bel?” He checks in.

As much as she wants to say no, another part of her responds. “Everything’s fine. We were bound to run into exes, right?” 

Harry presses a kiss to her temple. “I hope to never run into one of yours. Don’t think I’d be as graceful as you.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” she feigns.

He swung his arm over her shoulder, giving her another kiss. “It’s okay. You can say it was awkward and awful. We went on a few dates, but I-I didn’t want to commit to anything. She’s the one I told you would get a new fish almost daily because hers would mysteriously die.” 

Bel laughs because she remembers that story. Harry has been open with her, and she appreciates it so much. He walks them outside, promising to get her a drink. Bel is content to sit alone, even if her thoughts might get the best of her. Anything better than being inside a room where everyone is judging her and her boyfriend. 

She’s never been the jealous type. There’s no reason to be now. Harry is with her, and he loves her; it's not something she doubts. Not for a second.

Her insecurities were rising. She never thought she fit a certain mold. She has always been her authentic self when meeting others and in front of the camera, so for Harry’s friends to say she’s not his type didn’t hurt her it’s how they spoke about her behind his back while mocking her accent. 

Bel grew up being told she was different. She had to assimilate to not be picked on, but her parents always told her that her accent was 100% hers. That no one could change that. She loved her culture and who it made her. 

She was letting herself get lost in her head, letting those intrusive thoughts win when she shook it all away. Bel knew it was time for another appointment with her therapist. It’s not something she wanted to talk about, but she'd tell him as soon as they arrived home. For now, she wanted to enjoy the night with him, or at least what was left.

Harry was in the kitchen when he heard someone call his name. He sends them a smile but keeps a hold of his drinks, letting both men know it will be a short talk. It doesn’t matter Mark and Christian cut right to the chase.

“Harry, can you apologize to Y/N for us. We weren’t–we didn’t mean to offend her,” Mark looks to Christian, who nods in agreement. 

He frowns, looking at both men in front of him, looking guilty for something he has no idea about. “If you have to apologize through me, I don’t think we can continue to be friends. Y/N is her own person. She’s not just a connection to me.”

Harry walks away, leaving both drinks he had gotten, and goes for Bel. He’s ready to go home. He was looking forward to a nice night out, but it has taken a turn for the worst. Harry doesn’t even want to imagine what those men said about her, but it’s safe to say he would no longer be in contact with them.

“Where’s my water?” She asks, seeing him come back empty-handed. 

Harry walks towards her and places his hands on her face, tipping it up, making sure she’s looking at her. They shine bright, just like they always do when he’s nearby. 

“I love you,” he reminds her.”

She giggles, “lo se, mi vida. Te amo.” 

Harry has heard those words thousands of times, but the flutter in his stomach is always the same. 

“Mark and Christian cornered me, telling me to apologize to you.” Harry takes note of her reaction and knows it can’t be good when she doesn’t meet his eye. “Bel?”

“It’s not worth repeating.” 

He sighs but doesn’t push. He connects his lips against hers, relaxing when she’s quick to respond. “Let’s go home. Think we deserve a bath and some ice cream.” 

The way home was quiet. It was odd for them, but Harry could see Bel lost in her head and didn’t know how to reach her. He didn’t want to push her.

As soon as they returned to Harry’s house, it seemed more like theirs in his mind. She set off to the kitchen to get their ice cream, and he went upstairs to prep the bath. Everything was done in easy silence, a kiss here and there. Harry helped Bel strip from her outfit. He had a different way of undressing her earlier in the day, where he’d happily bring her to an orgasm or two, but he’d take any moment with her. He could see her lost in her head, but every smile his way assured him she was still present with him. 

Harry settled in the bath first, then she followed. He felt himself relax when Bel let out a deep sigh of relief. He knew not to push, and Bel was thankful. His hands skimmed her thighs in soft touches. Harry always seemed to know what she needed. 

“Your friend they–” 

“Not my friend,” he corrects her.

“Harry,” she sighs. 

“I knew them because I’ve worked with them, but they aren’t my friends, especially after tonight.”

Bel nods, “they were just saying that I’m not your usual type or about how I was hanging off your arm the entire night.” Harry squeezes her tight against his bare chest. “They talked about my accent and how they thought I should talk more. Caught them by surprise before they could finish saying you probably kept me around because I was a good fuck.”

Harry takes a deep breath, “Bel.” 

She’s quick to stop him. “I’m just feeling hurt and insecure, I guess. It has all messed with my head. I usually let everything roll off my back but not this time. Maybe because these people are in some way an association of you. It’s one of my fears, not being good enough.” 

He can’t take not seeing her, so he doesn’t care if he spills water out of the bath. He turns her on his lap. His heart breaks, seeing her eyes glisten with tears and a frown on her face. He moves his hands from her waist to her face making sure she’s looking at him. “Listen to me. I love you. You’re my best friend. I love every bit of you, from that birthmark on the bottom of your right foot to the scar on your temple. I love how you speak Spanish to me like I can understand what you’re saying. I love your cooking and all the seasoning you add. But most of all, I love how you give love and kindness to everyone you know. I love loving you.”

“Harry,” she cries. He laughs, seeing her tears spill over because he knows she’s overwhelmed, and if showering with love is the answer, he’ll remind her the entire night if he has to. He’s prepared to do it for the rest of his life. 

“I love you, cariño.” 

Bel presses her lips against his. She pours all the love she has for him into the kiss. She wants to remember the feeling and security that he gives her. Others might talk and say what they want, but they know the truth. Bel knows Harry loves her exactly as she is, and that’s all she could ever ask for. 

#harry styles #harry styles x famous reader #love on tour series #love on tour #love on tour series asks #harry and bel

[robynlilyblack]

The Holiday

Part 2

Fred Weasley x fem! Potter! reader

Summary: After a colourful morning Fred and y/n get to spend some alone time together

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of eating, sex and food, slow burn, mutual pining, lil to a lot of sexual tension

A/n: 7.3k words, this is so cutesy, completely self-indulgent fluff and I love this to utter bits x

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

You scrunched up your nose as you felt the sun hitting the side of your face, slowly becoming aware of everything around you, feeling the warm body pressed against your back, an arm wrapped across your chest and a hand placed on the mattress just under your arm. You smiled to yourself, it wasn’t the first time you had been spooned by Fred, but it had been years and he had never held you this close, this intimately, like you weren’t friends napping but something more, something you had always longed for.

Your eyes fluttered open to see the clock, 06:32, the sight made you smile wider, eyes shutting as you hugged his arm closer to you, placing a kiss on his bicep and feeling him hum in his sleep behind you, nose nuzzling into your hair as you drifted off once more

About an hour later the sun had moved in the room, now hitting Fred with more intensity than it did before causing him to groan and hug you closer. He smiled before he froze, eyes opening to see your pretty head of hair in front of his face and feeling his feet dangling over the end of the bed as he must have shifted down in the night to be the same level as you. He then felt you squeeze his arm with your own as you whined in you sleep, his heart practically exploded, letting his head lean in and smell your hair

As he smiled into you he glanced over at the other bed, seeing his brothers knowing grin, currently sat up a small prototype in one hand and a small screwdriver in the other while Jess lay on her stomach sleeping, soft snores coming from her

“Cosy” George says quietly wiggling his eyebrows 

Fred felt his face heat, George had teased him for years especially the first time you two had ever slept beside one another. It was just after the Quidditch world cup, you were utterly exhausted and couldn’t bring yourself to walk up to Ginny’s room to sleep so Fred stayed with you on the couch, letting you use him as a pillow and you lay on top of him. The following morning George found you both, taking a photo to tease his brother with, of course Fred couldn’t steal it from him without moving you and to this day he had no idea where his brother hid it

“Shut up” he rebuts but makes no effort to move away from you, if anything he held you tighter, although he did become rather aware of his arm resting between two soft parts of you which made his blush increase

George just smirks “You two are acting like a couple already” he notes shaking his head as he returns to tinkering with the device 

Fred looks at him strangely “We aren’t, we’re…we…” he struggles to explain it, his heart aching that this was all one-sided and you merely seen him as your friends’ sweet older brother…who was definitely having not so sweet thoughts about you

“You’re what? So, in love we’re all planning the wedding…we are by the way, Sirius is going to be the ring bearer, well his Padfoot form will be” he says with a smile

Freuds eyes widen “Who…?” he asks a little panicked causing you to stir but not wake, shuffling back into him to which he can’t stop himself from smiling “Who is we?” he asks quieter

“Gin, Ron, Mione, Jess, Lee, Angelina, Luna…Nev…basically everyone Freddie, we’ve had bets for years…oh Dumbledore and Minnie too we overheard them once”

“Harry?” he asks nervous

George shakes his head “Nah, he’s as oblivious as they come” he laughs lightly “Pretty sure James and Lily know though” 

“What?” Fred sits up waking you this time as he hears you groan softly, waking up from his sudden movements

You shift to look around at him, arms still tangled but looser than before “I was having a rather lovely dream you know” you say groggy pouting so cutely Fred eyes linger on your lips as you rub the sleep from your eyes sitting up

“Sorry love” Fred cringes, nudging his shoulder with yours before remembering his hand was still resting on your stomach and reluctantly removes it 

He stays close to you however, knee laying over your upper thigh as he shifts to sit properly “It’s fine, least you didn’t kick me out of the bed” you giggle “Mornin George” you send him an adorable little wave like he isn’t less than a meter from your own bed

The younger twin matches your energy waving back “Mornin” he smiles at you 

“Do I not get a good morning?” Fred says with false annoyance

You turn your head in his direction then back to George “You hear something?” you shrug with a grin on your face

George muses for a second “Nope must have been the wind” he shakes his head

“Ha ha very funny” Fred waves his hands in the air 

You furrow your eyebrows “I think it was a squeak actually…oh something nudged me...weird” you act confused to which Fred huffs crossing his arms

“Looks like there a breeze too” George comments with a shit eating grin on his face

Fred shakes his head “Right you’ve had your fun but please stop, I can’t survive 3 days like this again…it’ll ruin the holiday” he pouts while you and George chuckle

“Fine” you lean into him, loving the way his lips quirk up “So, what you working on?” you ask noticing the device in Georges hands

His face lights up “I think I’ve finally fixed the little…glitch” he grunts a bit as turns the screwdriver “Wanna see?” he asks to which you bounce up and down on the bed

“Yes!” you say excitedly lifting up the covers and attempting crawling out of the bed, only to slip as you do, face going into the mattress “Oww” you groan as the boys chuckle, propping yourself up on your elbows as you look at George “At least I didn’t swan dive off the bed this time” you say giggling but only register Georges laugh

Fred was busy trying not to go crimson as your arse was basically in his face, shorts tight and rode up, eyes lingering there even though he knew it was wrong to. His gaze was only broken when you sit back on your feet then swivelling them around to get off of the bed and head over to join George, settling in between him and Jess

“Freddie you not coming?” You tilt your head as you gesture

His mouth opens then shuts “Nah I-I’m good here, I’ve seen it” he chuckles nervously, shifting the covers over himself an act his brother notices, raising an eyebrow

As you turn to look at the product he mouths ‘fuck off’ at George as he wiggles on the bed, trying to focus on what you’re being shown than the pretty sight he just witnessed and the lewd thoughts that were swarming his brain

“What does it do?” you ask smiling 

Both of their hearts warm at your enthusiasm, you never judged them for their products, in fact you helped with them, came up with your own ideas, even helped them design the packaging. It was then they were reminded that you were going to make an excellent addition to their shop, if you chose to join them of course

George shifts to face you and Jess, who was still sound asleep “Just watch” he says as he places down the screwdriver and presses a little button on the side

You hear a couple of clicks like gears being turned before a soft ding and then the lid bursts open. You barely heard Georges and Fred’s in union ‘oh no’ as you feel some kind of water, maybe paint blast over you. Poor Jess who hears the rather loud pop of the lid lifts her head up at the wrong moment and is covered in the liquid too

“What in the flying fuck!” she cries wiping her eyes and staring daggers into George before looking at you “Gal your hair is all rainbow…” she starts giggling before putting at the coils of her own hair finding them mutli coloured too

You don’t reply as you struggle to wipe the paint from your eyes, luckily George helps you “Here doll” he gently removes what you figure must be multicoloured goo

“Thanks George”

You feel the bed dip next to you followed by a voice “You alright love?”

Humming you finally open your eyes “Yeah…is my hair really a rainbow?” you turn to Fred, you weren’t mad in the slightest, if anything you were excited to know how they’d managed it

He nods grinning as he gently takes at strand of it between his fingers “Here” he takes out his wand muttering something to clean the goo and dry yours and Jess’ hair 

You smile at him “Thanks Freddie” you say gently squeezing his arm before turning to see Jess, her gorgeous chocolate curls now rainbow “Jess you look so beautiful!” you gush over her

The girl’s eyes light up “Me what about you” she cups your face giving your nose a quick kiss before grabbing a mirror from the best side table “Alright I’m not even mad anymore, I do look fab…how long will this last and can you make it permanent” she look up at George with a hopeful expression

The boy was about to answer when the door opened revealing your father and Harry “We heard a scream and though we should investigate…wow!” James starts to explain before he looks between you and Jess “When you do that? It looks amazing” 

Harry nods beside him “You both look really pretty” he says sweetly

You and Jess cuddle into each other at the compliments “You can thank a product gone wrong for that…although that glitch could be a great seller, what was it supposed to be?” you wonder looking to Fred

“Well we were hoping it would shoot rainbow sparks for pride but it seems like it didn’t travel through the device quite right…” he picks up the device pointing “...see it shot out this tube instead of the charmed one, hence it just shot the goo instead being turned into colourful sparks” Fred explains looking at you as he finishes, loving the way your attention was on him the full time

“You know Marlene always wanted hair like that, could I commission one? Her birthdays coming up and I need brownie points after I set her couch on fire” James cringes as all of you start giggling 

George and Fred theorised you and Jess would be stuck with rainbow hair for at least the rest of the holiday but neither of you minded much. Your parents, Molly and Arthur were planning on spending the day down by the lake, but mentioned to everyone there was an ice cream shop in the village and we should all go out since it was a bit breezier today, perfect weather for exploring.

You put on some denim shorts, vest and light cardigan before heading down to wait for everyone outside. As you leave the house you see Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione taking amongst themselves, Ron’s arm lazily around his girlfriend and Ginny with her arm linked with your brothers, head on his shoulder

“Hi!” you greet cheerily

They turn to you smiling “You look cute” Ginny notes with a wink “Love the hair” she nods the three others nodding in agreement

“Looking cute too Gin, when you realise you choose the wrong twin let me know” you flirt back making Harry chuckle, for years you and Ginny flirted just to annoy him, at one point he really did think you and she were serious

“Where’s the twins and Jess?” Hermione asks

“Jess wanted to braid her hair so George and Freddie are doing one end each when I decided to head down, it was such an adorable sight” you scrunch up your nose as you recall how giddy she was

“They loved doing that with my hair when I was younger” Ginny notes

Ron chuckles “They did it with mine when we had long hair…oh merlin you remember that”

“The year no one got haircuts…how could we forget?” Hermione says sarcastically, earing surprised giggles and a proud look from her boyfriend

A few minutes later Jess and the twins appeared, all of you giggling as she poses with her braids while George and Fred did little jazz hands behind her. 

Soon you all headed out, Jess linking her arm with yours as you all make the walk down to the village, catching up and reminiscing about things that happened back at Hogwarts. 

When you get into town the group stops in the small square “Wanna split up and explore for a couple hours then meet back for ice cream around 1 or something?” Hermione suggests, taking Ron’s hand, clearly excited for a mini date

Everyone nods 

“So two groups of four or four groups of two?” George asks

Ginny and Hermione eye each other, having a mental conversation of whether they want a double date or not “Four groups of two” Ginny decides 

Fred sees Jess about to ask you to be with her so he butts in “Dibs on y/n” he says pulling you into him “Then it’s a cute, boy, girl, boy, girl situation” he tries to justify it, mostly for Harry as by the knowing looks everyone but you and your twin were well aware of what he was doing

“Grand” Jess smiles turning to the younger twin “Wanna go cause mischief?” she asks

He nods “Hell yeah, come on rainbow girl” he gestures letting her link her arm with his as they wander off in a random direction

The others head away, leaving you alone with Fred “So, what’s the plan Freddie?” you link your arm with his, heart fluttering you’re going to spend some real time together

He grins down at you “Close your eyes and hold your hand straight out, I’m going to spin you. Whatever direction you point in when you stop is where we shall go” he asks, heart melting as you do as he says without question

He starts to spin you, ducking as he realises he should have asked you to point afterwards but when was anything he did not chaotic “Freddie if you don’t stop me soon I might puke” you warn him giggling away

“Alright, stop anytime love” he says before quickly moving to help when you stumble coming to an such an abrupt halt “Wow there” he grips your hips steading you, followed by him nuzzling his nose into your hair without thinking

You close your eyes once more at the contact, you could stay like this forever “Thanks Freddie” you say opening them and seeing where you were pointing “Looks like we are going down that cute side street” 

Fred is pulled from his daze and remembers the point of the whole spinning thing “Perfection” he says but he isn’t looking at the direction you’ll be headed

You step forward out of his grasp, turning and grabbing his wrist “Come on then” you say excitedly pulling him along with you, both smiling the whole time

As he lets you drag him towards the entrance to the small street he stops you just before you enter it making you peer up at him oh so cutely. He chuckles at you before taking your hand in his properly and continuing to walk into the side street

It was just big enough for two people to walk down side by side, old painted white brick walls of the large cottages on one side and a shorter painted white wall on the other with hanging branches from the gardens behind it

“You picked a good one little Potter” he notes

“Little Potter? Haven’t called me that in a while” you say running your fingers along the grooves of the brick

He squeezes your hand “It’s an accurate nickname being the baby of the group” he smirks to himself 

You huff “Ginny’s younger than me” you pout at him, taking you hand out of his and crossing your arms over your chest “and Luna” you add 

“They don’t count, because Ginny is more way more mature than most of us and Luna isn’t here. Besides back at Hogwarts you did hang out with most of my year instead of your own” 

That was true, even Jess was a year older than you as well. The reason for it was because Jess lived nearby your uncle Remus’ cottage, hence the two of you became friends before Hogwarts and through her you became friends with Cedric. Then you met the twins and through them became friends with Angelina and Lee. However, you would be a liar if you didn’t hung out with them just so you could be near Fred

You scrunch up your face mocking his voice as you repeat some of his words making him chuckle at you

“I had my reasons” you say after a couple seconds

“Mischievous ones I hope” he leans down to your ear

You turn to look at him in the eyes “Very mischievous” you smirk

He mirrors your expression, watching that beautiful glint in your eyes that he just adored. 

The two of you were so caught up in each other you hadn’t noticed you were approaching a small shop until the owner called out “Hello there” the older man greets

You and Fred tear your eyes away from one another and towards the man “Hi” you smile at the man while Fred gives him a nod

“You two look like you are in need of an adventure” he says as you approach, handing you a map

You take it from him, it detailed the whole village and surrounding trails, little red x’s marking specific locations “Is it some kind of scavenger hunt?” you wonder

He bobs his head “Sort off lass” he says with a thick accent “It’s called geocache huntin’, this…” he gives you another sheet “…had riddles you need to solve in order to find the cache. Each one is filled with little trinkets and whatnot, you can’t take from it but you can swap something of yours” he explains making you and Fred smile

“What do we get for finding them all?” Fred asks

The man raises his eyebrows “A surprise, depends on how many you find, no one’s gotten them all yet so the big ones up for grabs” you and Fred look at each other excited “My stalls open till one…you two in?” 

“Yes” you and Fred say in unison 

The man lets out a large smile “Brilliant! Hopefully I’ll see you two in a wee while then” he gives you a nod

You both smile back before walking off

You begin reading the map “Looks like this is us here” you point to the man’s shop “So if we head straight…” you start but Fred cuts in

“One second love we need one of those muggle pens, I’ll be back” he quickly kisses the side of your head, leaving you a little dazed but a huge smile on your face

“Found them already” the man jests 

Fred chuckles “No no, but you don’t happen to have a pen” he asks making a writing motion

The man nods reaching into his pockets “Ah here you go lad” he hands Fred the pen before glancing briefly at you looking at the map with a big smile on your face “She’s a keeper that one and just between us the prize is for couples” he winks

Fred’s cheeks heat that the man assumed you were a couple “We…” he stops himself “She is, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna marry her if she lets me” he says genuinely making the man give him a charmed nod

With that Fred jogged back up to you “You get one?” he nods “Great” you shine up at him, holding out your hand and letting him take it “The first one is just up here”

You and Fred walk hand in hand down the lane, coming out you are in a small community garden, lots of bushes of flowers, even an apple tree “This is nice” Fred nods “So what’s the hint?” he inquires

You turn to him with a straight face “I am hidden in a bed without sheets, where I’m always dirty” you say coyly your eyebrows raising

His eyes flash with the same thing you saw yesterday while swiming in the loch, a smirk appears on his face “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me little Potter” he bends down to your eye level

“Call me little Potter one more time and I’ll stop” you challenge him leaning closer to him noses almost touching 

He lets out a laugh “You want me to stop little…” you face flashes with disappointment making his heart ache but it quickly recovers “…bird?” he says remembering the previous night’s conversation

Your eyes brighten immediately and Fred makes a mental note to call you that from now on

“Never” you say turning away from him and back to the riddle “So bed without sheets and always dirty” you ponder eyes looking over the garden until you land on a row of flowers “Look” you grab his arm, tapping it

“What love” he follows your hand as you point “Flowers? Oh, flower bed, dirty ah, muggles are quite clever” he admires  

You walk over to the bed, gently moving the flowers and finding a small plastic box “It’s a lil owl” you hold it up to Fred “It’s so cute!” you say as you figure out how to open it

Fred kneels down beside you, loving how excited you are

Opening the box, you see a bunch of items, mostly keychains, some beaded bracelets as well as a small plastic packet with a signing sheet and the code to prove you found it

“You want to do the honours, your hand writing is much prettier than mine” he gives you the pen

You giggle “Not only my handwriting” you say earing an endearing ‘cheeky’ from the boy

Y/n and Fred, 2nd June 1998

“There we go” you say as you write the first code down

There were 10 in total and you both were determined to get them all, especially Fred, since he knew you would be gifted some kind of fancy date out of it and maybe, just maybe, one he could take out on later in the week

The some of the puzzles where quite simple

I am hidden under something that goes up and down, but never moves, beneath a staircase 

You might get stumped by this one, within the roots of an old cut down tree

Then they slowly got harder:

These too easy? Okay I lay behind the place where today comes before yesterday, behind dictionary in the local library

Stay tuned for this next hint, I am within something that has strings but can’t be tied, that one was difficult as it was in an old guitar that had been refashioned into a diy flower bed

“This way Freddie” you call out as you find the spot 

You hear him jogging up “You find it?” he asks as he joins you

Humming you point to a tree “I lay in a small house preached upon something that dies once every year but it only strengthens it. Must be that birdhouse…it’s so high though” you giggle “Good think I brought a big tree”

He nudges you “Big tree? I’m offended love”

“You shouldn’t be” you say as you both head to the base

“No?” he asks as he reaches up

“No” 

“We have a problem” he says hands resting on his hips “I’m ironically too short” he states

You let out a laugh “First for everything. How are we going to get it?” you say looking over at him, met with a cheeky look “Oh no what?”

He places his back against the tree “Come on lil bird let’s get you to your bird house” he winks at you, bending his knees

You bite your lip, if you only knew Freddie, you were excited to reveal your form to him but there were too many muggles around that could see you right now, because you really would have flown up to get the cache instead

You hesitantly placed your foot on his knee “Come on” he gestures 

Fred watches as you place your hands on his shoulders pushing yourself up, slipping a little but he’s got you “Sorry” you say with a giggle as you had unknowing fell into his face chest first, something he certainly wasn’t complaining about 

“You never explained why I shouldn’t be offended” he says looking up at you while your reaching in for the box

You lift the box out placing it on the edge of the tree “Pen?” you make a grabby hand at him

“One second” he extends the syllables as he reaches into his pocket retrieving it before handing it to you, intentionally brushing his hand over yours before it goes to steady you once more

You start signing and jotting down the code “Because you’re the best kind of tree” you answer simply “You’re an autumn tree, the prettiest kind”

He smiles to himself, most people made fun of him being ginger, not that he really cared nor listened to them but hearing you call him pretty because of it made more than his day. It was something he never knew he needed to hear until that moment and it made him adore you more that he did already

“You calling me pretty?” he teases you as you finish writing

You look down at him as you shove the map and sheet into your shorts pocket “You know you are” you say moving to push the box back in, griping onto a branch as you do

“I learned that from y…ooooo” he says before hearing a crack followed by a squeal from you as you slip and send both of you to the forest floor “ugh” he groans as his back hits the ground followed by you landing on top of him

You scrunched your eyes together, legs setting either side of his stomach as you sat up “Freddie are you okay, I’m so sorry the branch snapped” your hands go to cup his cheeks before moving to check for any kind of injury 

He just watches you fawn over him, how worried you were “I’m okay love” he assures you, moving to rest on his elbows “You got the code right” he makes sure, as much as he loved your current position he didn’t need a concussion

You nod shifting down so he could sit up if he wanted “Yeah I did. Need help big guy?” you hold your hands out for him, his eyes lighting up at the pet name

He takes them letting you pull him up “Thanks…” he says a little breathless as you were seated closer on his torso than either of you realised, faces centimetres apart

Your eyes are fixed on each others, breathing slowly as everything else begins to fade out. His eyes wander, unable to help themselves, down your nose then to your parted lips, before cheekily flicking once or twice further down, she’s so pretty...more than pretty

You do the same, eyes roaming his pretty freckles, how his shirt had been pulled down and you could see the top of his toned chest and sculpted collar bones, merlin he is perfect

Your eyes return to his face, catching him checking out your cleavage and smiling to yourself. When his eyes return to your face, you swear they flick down to your lips and he was moving in…

“You both better not be canoodling over there…children are about” a women’s voice interrupts you

I was gonna try for a bit of canoodling, Fred thinks, a little annoyed yet another moment with you was disturbed 

You giggle “We were just trying to get the geocache up there...” you point to the bird house “...and I fell on him” you explain with a smile although your cheeks did feel hot

The lady raises he eyebrow, giving you a slightly sassy ‘mhm’ before heading on her way, you turn back to Fred finding him already looking at you. The tension before had dissipated again, leaving the two of you to burst into giggles

Harry comes out of the shop with a huge ice cream cone taking a lick as he takes a seat outside with the others. 

He looks up to see George and Jess coming, the gingers eyes searching as he speaks “Where’s Freddie and Y/n?” he asks 

Everyone shrugs “No clue, it’s only half twelve though” Hermine says checking her watch

“Maybe they got lost” Harry suggests to which his girlfriend laughs “Gin?” he smiles weirdly at her

Her eyes widen a little “Nothing sweetie, I’m sure they’ve just found something cool” she assures him and as he goes back to his ice cream she makes kissy faces to the rest stopping as your parents come around the corner 

“Hi mum” Harry greets as he sees her “Hey dad”

“Hello honey” Lily smiles back “Ooo that looks good” she points to Ron’s small tub

He sucks on his cheek swallowing “You want some?” he offers but she shakes her head

“I’ll get my own you enjoy that one” she assures him

“Where my little fawn?” James asks looking around

The group looks between each other before you appear “Hi Y/n…you lose Freddie or is he stuck up a tree again?” George jokes making the others laugh

“That was one time” Fred calls out coming out of a different alley

The group was about to question what you were doing before you called out “I got the 8th one”

“I got the 9th, one more to go” Fred says

“What’s happening?” Ginny asks

“No time to explain sis” Fred says jogging towards you “Need to get the last one by 1” he says grabbing your hand, both of you smiling and laughing as you run off together

James and Lily share a look while everyone else just giggles at the two of yours antics 

“I’m shattered” Fred says falling into the bed, wanting to wrap himself in the covers but he waits for you

George and Jess laugh on the other bed, already tucked in while you were just brushing your teeth “Can’t believe you went on an adventure with me” George pouts

Jess rubs his back 

“Sorry Georgie but there was a time limit” Fred shrugs, he did feel a little bad for his twin…nah he didn’t, he got to spend the whole day hunting with you, alone, hand exclusively in his the entire time

“Did you win the prize?” Jess asks

Fred nods “Yeah we won a free day out” he smiles, of course he was leaving out that it was a couple’s day out filled romantic and fun things to do with one’s partner

“Lovely” George says slyly “That just for the two of you?” he smirks at his twin as does Jess beside him

Fred’s cheeks heat, faint blush appearing but hidden in the dim light “Shut up” he mutters as you open the door

“I’m gonna to sleep well tonight” you announce climbing into the bed with Fred, neither of you speaking, just knowing as he opens his arms and lets you crawl into them

“Night” George sings

“Sweet dreams” Jess copies him 

You and Fred both respectively stare daggers at them, saying your goodnights to them before turning to each other and saying your own goodnights. 

However after around half an hour Fred still couldn’t get to sleep “Y/n” he whispers “Y/n” he squeezes you in attempt to wake you as gently as he could

“I’m sleeping” you say with a smile breaking across your face, his heart skips “Is this your turn to ask me a weird question?” you open your heads looking up at him

He shakes his head, shifting under you “Would you mind…can you…” he was nervous to ask but you got it, just like you always got him

You wiggle out of his arms, shifting back and opening your arms, hithering with your hands “Come here big guy” you say a little tired but with complete endearment

He doesn’t say anything just tries to contain his smile as he lays his head on your chest, arms slithering around your torso while yours wrap around him gently 

“Night” my little bird

“Night” my big tree

Your eyes fluttered open to see the cutest view, Fred snuggled into you, a small smile twitching on his face as he dreamed. The only downside was his weight was pushing into your bladder and now you needed to pee. You slowly shifted him over, hearing the sweetest whine as he lost contact with you

“Mornin” you hear a soft whisper, turning to see Jess coming out of the bathroom

You smile “Morning” you greet before standing up, joining her side looking over the two twins both fast asleep, looking so peaceful “You thinking what I’m thinking?” you glance over at Jess

“I already have the pens”

Fred scrunched up in face at the bright light “What the…” he mutters to himself as he opens his eyes, greeted with the sight of you with a camera and that gorgeous smile of yours

He also saw the mischief “Something tells me you didn’t think I was sleeping cutely enough to take a photo” he stretches his hands out in the bed, letting out a groan as he sits up

“It can be both” you quip as you take the polaroid and wave it in the air gently

He chuckles looking over at George who was just waking up as Jess finished her masterpiece “Why does my nose feel wet” he says groggily before seeing the pen “What’s this then” he eyes the girl

“Payback” Jess scrunches her nose playfully

George and Fred chuckle “Alright kitty cat” Fred teases his brother, finding his twins new whiskers rather amusing along with that fact Jess had gelled his hair in a way to give him false ears too

He nods “Well played puff” he shakes his head a Jess before turning to his twin “Alright my good sir” he says doing a little bow and flare with his hand 

“Oh” you bounce on the balls of your feet “Freddie the fancy man” you copy Georges movements

“The fanciest of all the men” Jess joins in 

Fred just laughs “Give that” he gestures to the polaroid

You hand it to him, watching the amusement on his face but also the admiration “Simple but every effective love” he comments “Maybe I should grow a tash?” he pinches the place it would be, to which you giggle “George wanna grow tashes?”

Everyone was confided indoors as it was raining pretty heavily outside, the morning spent having a long breakfast and laying on the couches, twiddling your thumbs

“Wanna play board games?” Hermione suggests 

Jess perks up “Yeah…although I think the ones in the cupboard are all 4 players” she pouts

“We could pair up?” You suggest

Fred’s face lights up “I’m into that”

“You’re into her…oof” George whispers in his twins ear earning a nudge “Guess it’s come to this, twin against twin” he says with a smirk “Jess you wanna help me beat everyone’s arse?”

“Hell yeah” She says high fiving him as he moves to join her on the couch, while you stand up and take Georges old place by Fred

As you pass he pulls you down onto his lap, making you squeal “Freddie!” you nudge him giggling

Harry eyes the boy “No funny business with my sister” he warns him to which Fred’s eyes widen lifting and plopping you on the couch beside him

“Sorry Harry…” he appologises before eyeing him back “Bit of a double standard though” he adds making the boy flustered and you smile, does that mean you have a chance?

Eventually you decided to play Cluedo after Ginny flipped the board around 30 minutes into monopoly followed by you all giving up on trying to put the board for mouse trap together

“Do you have…love who’s that one again?” Fred asks a little bewildered

You giggle “Colonel Mustard” you remind him

“I thought that was Krutsy, you said that was his name” Ron pouts looking at Hermione

George lets out a breathy chuckle “Is the whiz kid finally wrong!” he exclaims

“I’m not wrong” she crosses her arms “His name is Krusty in the show but Colonel Musters in this game that’s themed from the show” she explains but all of the Weasleys look at her like she said a bunch of gibberish

“Think of it like this, imagine it was themed on Hogwarts and the people were based on the professors, instead of their real names they used funny fake ones” they all go ‘ah’ while Hermione mouths ‘thank you’ “Perks of being half and half” you smile as does your own twin

“Okay so Colonel Mustered with a poisoned donut in the frying Dutchmen” Fred continues “Muggles are weird man”

Of course Hermione and Ron…okay Hermione...won Cluedo with her beautiful detective brain. 

After that your parents, Molly and Arthur joined for some charades until they when to chill upstairs, to which you split into groups again, deciding to play cards with a twist…and no it was not strip poker

You played in teams but the losers of each game had to do a forfeit decided by the winners. To name a few, Jess and George had to exchange clothes, Jess now in a fluffy jumper and oversized sweatpants, while George was in a form fitting vest top that looked hilarious on his larger body and a flowy skirt which he actually took a liking too. Harry and Ginny had to go the next two games without touching each other or another game was added…a forfeit from Ron as he didn’t enjoy their constant smooching. Hermione and Ron had to eat a spoon of mayonnaise which Ron enjoyed while Hermione almost puked. 

You and Fred hadn’t lost yet, you weren’t winning but you were staying under the radar, that was until Fred threw away the wrong card during a game of dutch and blew it

“Right” George rubs his hands together “I dare the two of you to run around the outside of the house 5 times, in the pouring rain” he smirks

“I’m assuming no jacket or shoes” you ask

Jess giggles “Naturally” she affirms

While you and Fred ran outside, the others headed upstairs to watch you from the big windows in your parents’ room

“Hello” James greets watching as all of them say very quick hi’s as they bunch up at the windows “What we looking at?” he joins them as does Lily

“Y/n and Freddie lost the game so their forfeit was to run around the house 5 times”

“In the rain” Lily pouts mum voice kicking in but James wraps his arms around her

“Oh here they come” Jess points while George opens the window so they could hear you both better

You and Fred raced around the house, with him just in front beating you until he slipped and fell in the mud, allowing you jog past him and technically win your little race

Giggling you held up an ‘L’ with your hand “Loser” you tease him, the rain long forgotten as you watched him try to get up but slips again

He looks up at you “Little help” he holds out his hand

“I don’t know” you shrug making him poke his cheek with his tongue “What’s the magic word”

“Please” he pouts at your fluttering his eyelashes

You tut making an ‘x’ with your arms “It was abracadabra” you inform him

He laughs shaking his head “I’ll abraca-dab-a-dab dab you in a minute if you don’t help me” he warns light-heartedly

You gasp dramatically “So rude” you cross your arms turning away “I don’t want to help you anymore”

“Please” he begs so cutely

You roll your eyes “Fine but only because you know I can’t resist that face” you hold out your hands to help

He smirks taking them “Thanks love…oh no” he says as he pulls you down into the mud

You land on your side mud splashing up, I’m going to kill him, you think as you try to sit up in the cold, mushy ground 

“Here let me…” he ‘tries’ to help by grabbing mud before he cups your face “Opps made it worse” he says as he smudges it over your face “Here let me…nope” he can’t stop the chuckles

You play him at his own game “Freddie” you pout sadly, pretending to sniffle

He stops his movements, actually cupping your cheeks and checking on you “Sorry love…you alright? Let me help you…no tricks promise” he assures you in a such a concerned tone you start to feel a little guilty for what you’re about to do

You continue to look sad, before moving closer to him, slyly grabbing some mud as you do. His eyes flick to your lips, leaning in until…smack…you throw mud over his the side of face and scamper away leaving him shocked

His eyes widen before a smirk takes over “You little minx come back here!” he shouts as he clambers to his feet and runs after you

After he chased you for a good half an hour you returned to the house, coming in you were given a quick cleaning spell and a light scolding from Molly before beging told to take a warm shower to heat up

By the time you both had finished, your friends had all fallen asleep on the couches downstairs, you placed a blanket over Ron and Hermione as Fred put one over his twin. You then did the same with Harry and Ginny, giving your brother a kiss to the forehead while Fred tucked Jess in.

You both walked wordless up to the attic, deciding to just go to bed but as you got there you realised both beds were free tonight. Fred glanced at you, he wanted nothing more than to cuddle with you again, he’d sleep beside you every night if you let him, but he didn’t want to force you.

“Looks like we’ll get the beds to ourselves tonight” he says with a semi forced chuckle

You smile at him but your heart drops, you really hoped he’d not say anything “Great no threat of being kicked out” you joke but it’s only half hearted, you hoped he didn’t notice the slight disappointed but he did, and instantly regretted it even bringing it up

The beds were cold without one another, empty, like a part of you both were missing

Eventually Fred forced himself asleep while you lay awake, you sighed as you sat up, you couldn’t get comfortable at all and all you could think about was Fred. Looking over at him you decided to be brave, shifting out of the covers you shuffled over to the other bed. 

As you get in Fred stirs, eyes opening to see you trying to fix the covers, tucking him in again after you had messed them up climbing in 

His heart fluttered that you joined him “Hi” he whispers startlingly you a bit

You smile shyly “Hi” 

He opens his arms “Come here” he welcomes you into his embrace with the brightest smile

Once you were settled in you turned you head up on his chest to look at him “Night Freddie” you lean up to kiss his cheek but he turns accidently catching your lips

You let out the smallest of gasps while he freezes, both of your faces melting into smiles after a while. He then nudges his nose with yours, testing the waters and when you nudge his back he wiggles it with yours, rubbing them together and making you giggle 

When your laughter dies down you both lean in slowly, capturing the others lips in the softest sweetest kiss, lips not moving just pressing them together for a couple of seconds before pulling back. When you Break away he chances one final kiss with you, one you accept happily

Properly pulling back this time you nuzzle your head into his chest 

“Night my little bird” he kisses your hair

You look up, planting a kiss to his neck “Night my big tree” 

Thanks for reading, there will be a part 3 💛

#fred weasley and reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred weasley and you #fred weasley and y/n #freddie #golden era #the holiday

[four2andnew]

April Prompt #14: Hope for @hinnymicrofic (Some NSFW shenanigans implied)

Harry dragged his toes across the ground with each step until he flopped on picnic blanket next to where Ginny was stretched out on her belly, propped up on her elbows as she read a novel. Harry rolled onto his back and scooted until he was fully pressed up against her, nudging her arm with his face like a cat until she set her book aside and lifted her arm for him to slide under her. Ginny smiled down at him as they laid chest to chest, taking in his drawn face and the dark circles under his eyes. He sighed as she ran her fingers through his hair, his warm breath curling around her neck and sending her skin tingling. She stayed quiet, letting him decompress from his day couped up at the Ministry. His breaths evened out, not the heavy sighs they were when he first collapsed beside her. She wiggled down until she could lay her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and just when she thinks Harry might have fallen asleep, he started talking.

"Today was a shitshow. It's like they didn't learn anything from the last time. They're out for blood and they don't really care who they hurt in the process. Sometimes I wonder if wouldn't be better to just burn the whole damn thing to the ground and start over. I'd be no better than Voldemort, though."

Ginny turned her head so that her chin was resting on his sternum. His lips were chapped as if he had been licking and chewing on his lips in frustration all day long, but his face was relaxed, the stress from his day long since drained from his muscles until all he was left with were these thoughts. She shifted up again, tracing her finger along the bridge of his nose.

"I hope you know, you could become some kind of Mafia King and I will be right by your side. It's you and me, babe."

Harry cracked open one eye to peer at her. How the man could convey such intensity, such heat, with one fucking eye, Ginny would never know. All she cared to know was how they felt tangled together, clawing at cumbersome clothes and pulling hair until they were both gasping for breath. Harry rolled off her, because at some point he had turned them without her even really noticing, and put some distance between them as he caught his breath. Ginny giggled at his attempt to turn his hips away from her, like she hadn't been the one to unbutton and unzip his trousers in the first place. She tucked her head into the hollow of his shoulder with a sigh and straightened her shirt, pulling her unlatched bra out from underneath the fabric in the process. They laid peacefully and once again, just when she thought Harry had drifted off to sleep, he spoke again.

"Gin? How the fuck do you know what a Mafia King is?"

She shifted so she was facing him, her hand tucked under cheek and her leg hooked over his hips.

"Do you remember me telling you how Fred and George helped me smuggle some illicit items to the others at Hogwarts?" He hummed, letting his fingers trace circles on the sliver of skin exposed at her hip. "Well, some of those items included books by Muggle authors. One book in particular that made the rounds through the school was this one, honestly racy novel, about a Mafia King and his wife. The Boss man was always described as tall, dark, and handsome all throughout the story, it made me think of you."

Harry chuckled lightly before bursting into loud belly laughs. Ginny sat up, looking down at him with a bemused expression, giggling at his unbridled glee. He couldn't do anything but shake his head at her until finally his laughter subsided. He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her down for a sweet kiss.

"One of us is already a Mob Boss and it isn't me," he said softly, his fingers carding through her hair. At her cocked brow, he chuckled, "You ran a smuggler's ring that supplied an entire resistance against the establishment. You're a fucking Mob Boss, Gin!"

#post battle fluff #harry x ginny #hinny #hinny microfic #ginny is a BAMF #harry is here for it

[xtom-darling-x17]

heyy this is for the sweat treat party. can you do a fix where you’re really drunk and clingy but tom is just trying to take care of you and get you ready for bed? tysm!

😍 short juicy request x

Drunk on love

- Pairing Tom Holland x reader

- Summary You get drunk from a night out, Tom being a loving bf takes care of you

- Warnings being drunk, but nothing harmful just full of fluff!

- A/N Thanks for your request, much appreciated! Please feel free to participate into this event for my celebration of 200+ followers! 

You had one to many to drink on a late night out with Tom and his brothers in the city. You stumbled as you walk through the town as Tom holds you up.

“Careful love,” Tom takes your hand as he guides you to the car so they can go home, “I got you, Darling,” He catches you into his arms.

“Harry, can you open the door, thanks,” Tom asked, holding you up.

“You look cute,” You giggle to Tom as you swirl his curly hair around your finger, “have you got a girlfriend?” You smirked, playfully at him.

“You are my girlfriend love, can you please get into the car,” Tom kisses your forehead, you nod as Harry gets the door.

“Yh, of course,” you get in seeing that sam is in the car too, “Is Y/N ok?” He questions looking up to her drunk ness.

“Yh and thanks, I’ll take care of her,” Tom smiles, “I’ll drive if you want to,” Harry suggests.

“Are you sure? Your sober right,” Tom asks, “Yh, I’m good driving” Harry nods, “Cheers,”

“Come on poppet, we got to get your seat belt on,” Tom pulls your seat belt across you, buckling you in. You lean into his shoulder, taking is hand to hold.

Harry drives you home.

“Your a pretty boy,” you whisper, giggling into his ear. Tom smiles, “And your a pretty girl, who had a little too much to drink baby,” he smiles.

You guys arrive home as Harry parks the car. Tom gets out first to help you out, you haven’t gone to sleep yet surprisingly.

“Let me lift you up, Darling,” Tom wraps his arms around you as you nod your head, he kisses your cheek. Shutting the car door, he walks through the door with you in his arms.

Tom goes up the stairs but not without hearing giggles from Sam and Harry, knowing he definitely will be getting teased later. Honestly, he don’t care as long as he takes care of you.

Tom looks down to see you all sleepy, “We need to get your pjs on, Sweetheart and that make up off too!” he gently, lays you down on the bed as he grabs your pjs.

“Can I help you get your pjs on? baby,” Tom strokes your head, “Yh,” you giggle. Making grabby hands at him, your arms around his neck not letting him go.

“You need to let go of me, love,” You shake your head, “All mine,” you giggle, Tom had an idea! He tickled your sides for you to let go, “your all mine too! But I need your arms up!”

You put your arms up, he takes your shirt off. He unclips your bra then, Puts your pjs shirt on you. You laugh, “love, hold still!” Tom chuckles, trying to pull down your trousers.

“Sweetheart, I’m trying to help you,” Tom kisses you, “Your doing a good job, Spiderman,” You laugh even more, snorting at your own joke.

Your a high, giggling mess when it comes to you drinking too much! Causing you to get drunk and apparently clingy to Tom too!

Tom slips your pjs bottoms on you, “Finally, Darling!” He tucks you under the covers, “Warm and Comfy, my love?”

You nod, snuggling into the pillows of his bed. “You stay there as I go get my own sweats on and a few things for you,” Tom smiles, kissing your head.

Tom didn’t really take his eye off you, quickly coming back with now sweats and no T-shirt on. He have to take your make off with cotton pads and cleansing solution.

Tom puts the cotton pad onto your face, gently wiping off of your make up.

“Darling, close your eyes for me,” Tom asked, softly. You nod, “Tommy,” you mumble, “that feels nice,” you feel the cold pad with cream on your face.

Tom even put cream on your face after he wiped your make up off to hydrate your face, remembering at what you do yourself.

“That’s it baby,” Tom kisses your forehead, sliding under the covers.

“Oh, shit,” Tom gasped, “you should drink water and I’ll get paracetamol for you!” He quickly rushes out of the room, down to the kitchen.

Tom comes back up, “drink this, Darling,” He Pets your head, “you only need to drink a little bit, I don’t want you to get dehydrated,”

You nodded, drinking some of the water. You smile as Tom finally turns the lights off getting into bed with you.

You finally curl up into his chest, sighing at how comfy he is. “Sleep well, my love,” Tom kisses your head, “Love you,”

Tom cuddles back further into you, he wraps his arms around your waist. Bringing the covers up over your shoulders more so you don’t get cold.

“Love you too,” you whisper, even in your drunken state you can some what tell! of his love for you.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #lovers #tomhollandfan #tom holland fandom #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you

[daaydreamy]

sweat

summary: harry’s a motherfucking rockstar.

warnings: coarse language, smut, oral (f receiving), degradation kink, hair-pulling, spitting, choking, pain kink

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes off of Harry.

He had his eyes closed with his head tilted back while he played the drums, knowing the song so well he didn’t have to look. His long, sweaty hair went past his shoulders, swaying along with his head whenever he bopped his head to the music. He showed off his various tattoos, glistening whenever the light hit his sweaty skin. His mouth was slightly open, his tongue sometimes darting out to wet his lips. The heat was licking his skin all over, his skin prickling with sweat.

Harry knew that Y/N was watching him from somewhere in the big crowd that was cheering loudly, trying to find her. He would look through all the people, looking for the face he recognized the most. He enjoyed looking at all the many people, though, smiling from all their loud cheers and whistles.

The music was loud and thumping against the floors. The atmosphere was so… electric. The raunchy sound of electric guitar, the loud thumps of each hit of the drumsticks, the loud singing and almost yelling, it all felt so electric. It made pure adrenaline run through Harry’s veins that went all throughout his body, it made him feel such euphoria.

Y/N was cheering along with the crowd, sometimes taking a few pictures with a couple fans. Her eyes were mainly focused on Harry, admiring how he looked while he was up there.

Harry eventually found Y/N in the crowd, laughing and shaking his head a little when she waved at him innocently.

He looked like pure sex.

•••

“Need you so bad.” Harry said against Y/N’s lips, placing his hands on her hips and squeezing softly. They were back at the hotel they were staying at for now and Harry was still high on all the adrenaline. He was so needy, unable to take his hands off of Y/N and stop running his hands all over her body. He couldn’t stop begging and saying how much he wanted—or needed her.

The kiss they had was hot and messy, their tongues sliding against each other’s and their tastes lingering on their tongues. Y/N’s hand was on the back of his neck, lightly gripping the hairs at his nape. Harry’s fingers were digging into Y/N’s hips, gripping them so tightly she was sure he was going to leave bruises for her to see the next day.

“Yeah, baby?” She chuckled softly, pushing his hair away from his face. “You looked so pretty on stage.” She murmured and Harry hummed, leaning in to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to her neck. She moaned softly and tangled her hand in his hair, her other hand slowly trailing down his chest, eventually reaching the bulge in his pants. She palmed him over his pants softly, the small whimper that he let out against her skin making her smile a little, and she pressed her hand a little harder against him.

“Please.” He groaned softly.

“Please what? I need to know, darling.” She said calmly, even though she knew exactly what he was begging for.

“Please touch me.” He sighed softly, leaning into her touch, “I’ve been so good for you, please.”

He was a sight to see, honestly. He was so tall and muscular yet he was such a pathetic little mess for Y/N. He would melt into a puddle beneath her feet whenever she degraded him and called him her little whore, his eyes would roll to the back of his head whenever she called him a good boy, and he would get off simply from the reminder that he was all hers.

“Maybe.” She said softly, “Wanna use you first.”

Harry looked at her, pleading with his eyes. His pretty pink lips were shiny with spit and Y/N just wanted to make him cry.

“Get on your knees. Don’t touch yet.”

All Harry could do was listen, so he got down on his knees in front of her, maintaining eye-contact. He watched her every movement, wishing so bad that he was the one undressing her instead of her having to do it herself. He took his lower lip in between his teeth, inhaling sharply at the sight of a pair of lacy panties clinging to her body deliciously. He watched her unclasp her bra and ignored how it fell to the ground right beside him, his eyes flickering to her soft tits that he wanted to kiss and suck.

She looked divine.

“Eat me out.” She said bluntly, “But don’t touch.”

Harry only nodded and shuffled a little closer, looking up at her as he took the waistband of her panties in between his teeth, pulling them down her soft thighs. He kept his hands on his thighs obediently, his nails digging into the fabric of his black jeans a little bit. They eventually fell to her ankles and Harry looked at her sweet pussy, leaning in whilst darting his tongue out to taste her.

“Fuck.” She said softly, closing her eyes and tilting her head back a little. She grasped his hair and pulled him a little closer, holding him there. She let out soft moans as he started off slow, running his tongue along her slit and teasing her clit with his tongue.

Harry hummed softly against her in satisfaction, resisting the urge to bring his hands up and hold her thighs. He kept looking up at her as he tasted her sweet arousal, getting impossibly even more turned on purely from her taste on his tongue and her pretty moans entering his ears. He let out a soft whimper when she gripped his hair, telling him to make her come, which became his main and only focus.

He closed his eyes, working her up with his tongue. He would moan and whimper against her ever so often, licking at her core eagerly. She would grip and tug at his hair harshly while letting filthy, obscene moans slip past her lips carelessly. She was starting to get hot all over, getting closer and closer to her peak as the time passed. While Harry ate her out, he subtly started palming himself over his jeans while he ate her out, trying to get himself off.

Y/N noticed when she had looked down and saw, letting out a disapproving sound before using one of her feet to push his hand away.

“Don’t touch yourself.”

•••

“Shut up.” Y/N said firmly while grasping Harry’s face, making him whimper while he looked at her. “All you do is whine and beg like a pathetic little bitch, don’t you know how to shut up and be good?” She degraded, making his cheeks grow warm.

“Open.”

Harry parted his lips and stuck his tongue out when Y/N let go of his face, moaning softly while he watched spit drip from her lips, soon falling down onto his tongue. He swallowed before she even told him to, sticking his tongue out again after, as if he wanted more. That made her chuckle softly and she leaned back, sitting on Harry’s thighs.

They were on the bed now, messing up the pristine white sheets on it. Y/N had been teasing Harry for a little while now, riling him up and dragging this out for as long as she possibly could. She would touch him everywhere except for where he needed her most, and she would also touch him exactly where he wanted to her, but just barely giving him any stimulation.

“Y/N.” Harry groaned, starting to get impatient.

“Ask nicely, baby.”

“Please touch me.” He pleaded, desperation clear in his voice. His breath hitched when her hand trailed up his chest and her fingers wrapped around his throat, his slightly-wide eyes looking into hers.

“Use me. You can do anything to me, just- just please touch me.”

a/n: i wanna fuck him

🏷: @them-fucking-crows, @stockholmsyndromegf, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @poppet05 (couldn’t tag you!), @graciefostrr, @harringt8ns, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @ambrosia-bloom, @estrellarimar (couldn’t tag you!), @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @drewandanyasfirstborn (couldn’t tag you!), @sad1esgf, @taylorsreputationsversion

#sub!harry #subrry #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #sub!harry x dom!reader #dom!reader #dom!y/n #drummer!harry #writing