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#hard same mitch
3416 · 1 year
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Styling off the ice with hockey superstar Mitch Marner | WHAT DO YOU WEAR?
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teruthecreator · 1 year
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when are we gonna talk about the “cast as a male character but forced to make it a woman but still be masculine-leaning to retain the image” -> butch lesbian pipeline . 
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the-smile-of-a-veil · 11 months
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At this point Marvelous Mrs Maisel is just a bad show that is really good at painting itself as good
#like what happend???? what???#I already was really dive with season 4#like if you would put like season 2 and season 5 against each other.... ufff#maybe I just love season 2 so much because my memory tricked me#but I mean it's so repetitive?#it always has new characters and new sceneries and new jobs for mitch but like that isn't a good thing anymore#it's always the same? it's always the same szenes and scenarios but in a different shape#like nearly every fucking episode there is someone having a mental breakdown on stage but they are still smart and funny#it's boring#and OH BOY they can't STOP throwing in random love interest for Mitch I'M TIRED.#it's just to much!!!! because you NOW this isn't gonna lead anywhere and that guy will never show up ever again after 5 episodes#like I'm just not invested in any of that relationships! especially the one she has going on with her boss rn#like who cares!!!! who caresss???? like OF COURSE she has to have a complicated relationship with every men my GOD.#like I was like in season 4 'Oh FINALLY they gonna stop like this entire cycle and she finally gets with Lenny'#and then they just.... stop again???? the same with Joels new girlfriend. she was trown in just to be pulled out immediately#it's not good writing!#I'm also just so tired of everyone being friends with mitch and everyone lovveeee mitch#not like she doesn't deserve it but like. it's always the same!!!! first it's really hard for her to break the ice with the new people but#then they are best friends! and 2 episodes later they never will be seen again#and the fact that they still haven't stopped the mitch and joel bullshit OH. MY. GOD.#like it's just a bad taste? to make a show in the 60s about a woman who is always kinda going back to the man who treated her wrong#but hey! they where married and marriage is holy. bad bad taste.#also the way they put in 20 new characters but everyone is the fucking same. they have like 5 character types that they are constantly#recycling#if it ends with joel and mitch getting together again I swear to god...#also the way they already kinda pushed out the entire rose doing marriage arrangements? like thats what I mean when I say they don't keep#up with they own stories. it's always just thrown away immediately and rarely but mostly never mentioned ever again#again: bad writing!#but the high quality production and the fact that the first 3 seasons where actually good will make you think it's still good#marvelous mrs maisel
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cherryjuiceblues · 6 months
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𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 | 𝟒
➯ HARRY SPECIFIES A FEW THINGS ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP, Y/N ENTERS A NEW HEADSPACE, AND A FEW TEARS START TO FALL. ✰ dom!harry accidental plate smash. a few emotional breakdowns. sexual content. dominant and submissive dynamics. bondage. cum play. subspace. daddy kink. tickling kink. lots of praise. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 16.6k ッ mutually beneficial masterlist
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Harry hasn’t had someone visit him at work in a very long time.
In fact, Harry can’t even recall the last occasion in which he’d been granted that luxury at all. 
So to have Mitch step inside his office (whilst Harry was on the phone and proceed to speak over the man on the other line) to let him know Miss L/N is downstairs, nearly had Harry struggling to remember how to behave. He’d felt special, thought about, cared for—to know Y/N had disregarded her fears and visited him anyway. He’d felt proud of her.
Until the distasteful conversation of his least favoured employees had seeped through his walls and the quieter, less pointed replies of his darling girl made his eyebrows furrow. Knowing that she was being subjected to their entitled prying was enough to squash his initial excitement, but all elation just withered away when Harry heard Y/N minimise their relationship to that of friends.
He can’t say he was expecting to hear that. Not from her pretty mouth. He couldn’t even attempt to school his reaction as he stepped outside of his office, his feet clicking on the ground at exactly the same time the rancid word left Y/N’s lips. I’m his friend. Harry wondered what kind of friends she’d had in her lifetime to warrant that sort of response. 
The feeling is new—being irritated and having Y/N be somewhat at the root of his displeasure. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like himself for even letting his brain linger in such a murky area. She’d done nothing wrong. What else was she to say? Oh, he’s actually my dominant. I’m his submissive. We practise BDSM ideals. Factually correct but perhaps inappropriate for casual conversation. And Harry isn’t unaware that they’ve never referred to themselves as dating. Despite feeling in every way Y/N’s boyfriend, her partner, her lover (if he was talking to someone he felt more than comfortable with), he knew she was not the type to assume even the smallest of things. Calling Harry her boyfriend without his ‘permission’ would weigh on Y/N’s mind for days—no matter how unbothered he would be by it.
And yet, he’s still infuriated. Couldn’t she see they were far more than friends? Didn’t she want to tell people that? He’s never been an insecure man but suddenly it sits on his chest like a brick. Maybe she doesn’t want the commitment of a label. Maybe this was just a fun fling; something to look back on in her senior years as an exciting rendezvous. Telling tales to her grandchildren—Your grandma used to get up to all sorts of escapades, you know. Harry didn’t want to be some offhanded story; he didn’t want to be just a memory of hers.
So he behaves inappropriately. He behaves like that of a jealous, unassured brute of a man that has no regard for the communication Harry insists is so important all the time. He becomes a hypocrite. He becomes a man who punishes unworthy actions and plays into power dynamics to make himself feel better.
“Sweet girl,” he traces her upper lip with the pad of his thumb, sliding past to brush the round of her cheek. His voice lacks his usual soft inflection and his face stays hard. “Came to bring me my lunch like a good friend.” She frowns, pulling her head back with sad eyes. Harry’s presence looms over her as she perches on his desk. What is usually a comforting and safe crowding of space now feels distressing to Y/N. She doesn’t want him so near if he’s upset with her. If he’s upset with her she wants to run away—move countries in fact.
He closes his eyes, brows relaxing, and then he leans forward to rest his forehead against hers in a short window of reprieve. “It’s okay. Let me be spiteful. Let me, love.” It’s confusing—of course it is. What he’s asking of her is completely unreasonable! But she’s… she’s perfect, she’s a wonder; an angel reincarnated. Because she nods slowly, unsure and hesitant, and then he kisses her gently. An only slightly lingering enmeshment of lips. Then he steps back.
“Lock my door,” Y/N lags a little but she listens. Harry hadn’t even taken note of her dress; pretty in silky pink—a portrait from a wedding. But he likes that she kept it on to come here, no matter the formality in which she suggests. He can’t deny he admires too, the speed in which the fabric can be loosened from her shoulders. Two dainty straps to push aside and pool the silk at her middle. “Good girl, sit back down.”
“I’m very busy today, Y/N,” he spans his hands over her knees, “I don’t have the time to be dealing with you professing our friendship all over my workplace. Because now—” Harry steps impossibly closer and edges the hem of her dress a few centimetres up her thighs, “now, I need to alter your definition of the word.”
Y/N doesn’t quite know how much Harry is playing. If a part of him is upset but he’s channelling it into sexual energy, if he’s punishing her for coming to see him—clearly something about the way she’d described their relationship has riled him up—Y/N’s not that oblivious. But she’s not a mind reader… and Harry has never been stern with her like this. 
It feels fitting to use his preferred honorific. “Sir…” she whispers, unsure of what exactly to say to him. “Have I done something wrong?” It’s a reasonable question. 
Harry drags his blunt nails across the tops of her knees. “No,” flattening his palms to slip under the silk until his fingertips tease the satiny skin above the hem of her panties. Y/N grips the edge of the desk with clammy hands. She’s not convinced… but she’s also not inclined to ask anymore questions—she finds that she trusts him regardless—a new discovery considering they’ve never had a conversation so tense before. But it relaxes Y/N a little to realise she still feels safe.
But she isn’t so wrong to wonder if this is a punishment.
With his soft fingertips trailing underneath her dress, his thighs pressing into her knees and his face looking down at her, shadowed by the harsh line of his brows, Y/N feels small. She feels as though he could squeeze into her skin and shrink her down into the palm of his hand, push her back with his strong legs and pin her to his desk, and burn her with the stoniness of his glower. 
Those things do happen, in minimised ways, but in order for Harry to reach her neck—as he heavily leans forward for—it’s sort of unavoidable that Y/N’s body makes room. That her head tilts back, and her thighs widen, and her lips part in a silent gasp when he kisses underneath her ear. It’s deceivingly sweet—the sound his mouth makes when it parts from her skin. A quiet smacking and gentle breaths hitting her neck. Y/N’s eyes flutter shut and she just feels as Harry kisses her. Parted lips paying attention to the spot that he knows makes her melt and hands—that manage to balance being soft and rough at the same time—scratching against the tops of her thighs. 
Y/N moans quietly into the air, knuckles tightening against the desk when she feels Harry’s teeth tease the underneath of her jaw. Then he takes her skin between them and nibbles—rolling, teasing, harassing the sensitive flesh in a way that makes Y/N squirm. She can almost feel her blood rushing to the surface, hooting and hollering to make an appearance on her neck. Look at us! We’re desired! She hopes and prays her red blood cells choose to calm down. Because Harry certainly isn’t going to… and Y/N finds that she doesn’t want him to either.
His hands push upwards underneath her dress to the bottom of her stomach, and then back to her thighs, and then to her hips. Almost frustrated in the restriction of his movement. And then he lifts her just slightly, enough to pull her dress from underneath her bum and pool on top of her thighs. The cool wood makes Y/N jump a little, straight into Harry as he crowds even closer to her mollifying body. Now much more satisfied with the easier access to the state of her undress, he squeezes her waist with bruising fingertips and tugs her quickly wettening front to his own hardening one.
“Do you do this with your friends, Y/N?” He bites down particularly hard and she gasps.
“No,” her voice barely carries as she tries to shake her head. She doesn’t find it necessary to specify that Niall is her only friend.
“No?” Harry pulls back, lips wet and pupils large, feigning shock, “So, are we not friends?”
“We are!” She pleads, trembling fingers tangling in the front of his shirt.
But Harry disagrees. “No. I am not your friend.”
Y/N’s head scrambles, the high of his lips on her neck providing it difficult to maintain conversation. “Wh—I don’t—” She didn’t want to ask ‘what are we?’. It felt so juvenile.
Harry takes her earlobe into his mouth before trailing back down, across her jaw and all the way to her chin. Down the column of her throat and back up to the underneath of her ear. He kisses, and licks, and sucks. And marks. Then he loosens his tie and removes her hands from his shirt. “Hold your wrists together,” he demands, voice deep and commanding. Y/N’s heart beats like it’s warning her—unable to identify that she’s as safe as she can be—and her mouth dries out completely when she realises what he’s about to do. His tie around her wrists, looping through and underneath her hands to incarcerate them entirely. “Is that okay?” Harry’s eyes meet hers, softening around the edges in a genuine ask of approval; a break of character.
“Yes, Sir,” Y/N nods, twisting her wrists a little to test Harry’s tying ability. It’s perfected. She’s completely and utterly at his disposal—and it’s oddly calming. He smiles, encouraging her tied wrists to rest in her lap as he cradles her cheek with a palm, nurturing thumb painting goosebumps across the rounded flesh.
Then he kisses her. And it’s not gentle, despite the soft lingering of his hand on her face. His mouth captures hers, breaths shared as Y/N is consumed by him, and he takes whatever he pleases. They kiss and they kiss, as though they have all the time in the world. As though they’re floating down a river covered in cherry blossoms and not in the middle of his office during work hours.
But Harry keeps her safe. It’s what he does. Whether they were treading water deep enough for Y/N to drown in, or she was perched upon a desk that was teetering over the side of a volcano—Harry wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
He doesn’t let anything happen to her when Mitch’s telling knock sounds at the door. Y/N tenses up and her eyes widen. She knows she locked it but… Oh God. She’s tied up… on Harry’s desk… with her dress up around her middle.
“Not now, Mitch!” Harry leans back, projecting his voice away from Y/N’s ears.
That’s seemingly all that needs to be said, despite the way Y/N worries about the sure fact that Mitch must understand something unsavoury is happening on the other side of the door. But he doesn’t knock again and Harry secures Y/N with a hand around the back of her neck. If he were feeling more playful, he might take her incarceration as an opportunity to torture her with tickles—to squeeze, and prod, and wiggle as much as he pleased until she was begging with tears in her eyes for him to stop. To want to force eustress laughs and squirms out of her… it makes him feel sadistic. But he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s certain Y/N would bask in the powerlessness it grants her. 
Harry pushes the desire down for now. Later… he would, he’d do it. “You told me I could keep you, yeah?” He says millimetres from her mouth. Y/N had told him that. And she’d meant it. She still does. She yearns to be kept—to be cherished, desired, and looked after. Their noses brush when she nods. “You’re mine and I’m yours. Okay?”
That was more than okay. They were each other’s; something Y/N could easily understand. “Okay,” her breath mingles with Harry’s, nudging forwards ever so slightly to press her lips against his in a soft puckering. The sound it makes is equally as delicate—almost enough to make Harry want to pull back and start all over again; untie her hands and materialise the softest of beds to lay her down upon. 
But he needs to exercise this control just as much as Y/N needs it demonstrated to her. “Okay,” he repeats, kissing her once, twice, three times. “Let’s make sure it really sinks in then,” and Y/N is reassured enough now to allow a slight smile to upturn her nurtured lips and the excitement to buzz through her veins once more.
It still feels like punishment though. When Harry nudges her tied wrists up enough from her lap that he can smooth his thumb over the front of her underwear. Over the wetness. It makes Y/N shudder, the light weight of his digit brushing over her pulsing bundle of nerves. And when he lifts her feet up to rest on the wood, plucks the sodden material aside and spits down directly onto her cunt… it’s disgusting. Disgusting and disgraceful to be doing this on his desk, for Christ’s sake. But it makes her pussy flutter… pulsate and clench and send swarms of butterflies to her tummy.
He rubs it over with his now shining thumb, dips down to her hole and back up again, in motions too delicate to take Y/N far enough… but just seeing him tower over her—wearing the power of his suit so well—and claim her with his saliva is enough to ignite every nerve in her body.
That’s when she’s sure he’s being mean. When he stops touching her and unzips his slacks to pull himself out. Doesn’t even pop the button. It’s cruel enough that she can’t touch him. That she can’t thumb over his pearling precome and slick it down his thick shaft. But what is infinitely the nastiest thing Harry has ever done, is swipe the flushed tip through her lips—sure to spread her wetness around thoroughly—and start fisting his cock in filthy motions. It’s too fast to be deemed as foreplay, or working himself up enough to fuck her. It’s with purpose as he slides his hand up and down, spitting once again—a hypnotic string falling to his cock—as Y/N is forced to watch Harry build himself up to the brink.
Y/N’s feelings coalesce—sadness and arousal confusing her infinitely. As if the two combine to create something even more overwhelming. To watch such an erotic sight, the sexiest man (who she can now confidently call hers) as he loses himself in pleasure is enough to make her heart beat erratically… and yet it pushes her brows to the centre and makes her restrained wrists itch with the knowledge that she is unable to get him there herself.
Her throat is dry. “But—why are you punishing me if I didn’t— if I didn’t know?” She daren’t say the F word. If I didn’t know not to call us friends.
Harry’s eyes flick up from the spots between their legs to meet Y/N’s conflicted expression. He says, through shallow breaths, “Who said anything about punishment? I’m not punishing you, darlin’, I’m—teaching you, yeah? Helping you learn,” he pauses when he gives himself a particularly good squeeze, swallowing around a groan. “What have I taught you today?”
Y/N fights the urge to stare at his dripping cock, hovering above the perfect hole. He’d feel much better inside her, why won’t he just— She exhales, “We’re not just friends. You’re… you’re keeping me. I’m yours.”
He hums, deep within his throat, fist still moving in dizzying tugs. “Such a fast learner, my clever girl.”
The low cadence of his voice makes her squirm, hips lifting to get just that bit closer to him. She’s balancing uncomfortably on the tips of her elbows, thighs aching with the width in which they are spread. But in this moment it all fades into the background of her thoughts—especially when Harry starts letting out grunts that have arousal immediately pooling at her entrance.
“Oh, fuck,” he leans over, planting his hand next to her folding waist as their bodies dare to meet. Harry keeps them separated though, cruelly; his eyes trained to the distance between her cunt and his cock. He won’t give it to her, she knows that. Understands in the back of her mind that this is supposed to be quick, and somewhat agonising for her, no matter what he’d said about helping her learn. That Harry is in Boss mode and it’s only making her wetter and she can’t do anything about it.
He spits again, lifting himself out of the way so it falls down and onto her pussy. Y/N’s entire body shivers, chest heaving as his saliva drips from her clit to mix with her arousal. And he doesn’t even touch it—doesn’t swirl his fingers or mix their fluids. He just watches as he speeds up the flicks of his wrist and then tears his eyes away to admire the devastation on Y/N’s face.
“I’m g’na—fuck—g’na come all over this pretty pussy,” a squeeze and a groan, “and then tug your panties back over to keep it all nice and safe. And then you’re g’na go home and stay wet for me, aren’t you, darlin’?” She can’t do anything but whimper, face scrunched up as her core throbs and she nods pitifully. “Wish I could come inside of it instead. Stuff just the tip in and tug myself off until I drip out.”
“Oh,” Y/N whines, the noise pitiful and weak. She wishes that too. She wishes he’d come deep inside her and stay there forever.
“But we can build up to that, yeah?” He’s groaning at the very thought.
“Mhm,” her head goes up and down without any contemplation at all.
“Oh, I’m gonna fucking come, baby,” Harry moans and Y/N’s face urges towards his, wide eyes looking up at his glowing skin and dilated pupils. Their noses knock, and then their lips meet in a frenzied clash as they smother one another’s sounds. His fist slicks up and down, up and down—wet, heady skin thumping at the base with each pass of his hand. Precome and dribble coats his fingers, his knuckles, and Y/N is half inclined to open her mouth expectantly until he has no choice other than to stuff it full. 
Harry pulls away from her mouth, spit following him as he holds the weight of his head on heavy shoulders. His hand has migrated to the small of Y/N’s back, pulling her as close as possible without letting their middles meet and his hair tickles her face. He’s conservative with the volume of his groans but liberal with the way they topple past his lips—hushed, panted expletives.
“Fuck, y’little pussy’s dripping. Is this what gets you off? Silly little girl likes being treated like a silly little object.”
She nods fervently, “Yes, please, Sir.” Y/N’s pelvis aches, her back is unsupported, and her elbows are digging into hard wood. But it doesn’t matter because she’s Harry’s. His girl, his object—whatever he desires. And the thought of leaving the evidence of their rendezvous in her underwear for the rest of the day, unable to relieve the throbbing between her thighs; it excites her in the most masochistic way.
And when Harry comes, the warmth of his release drips onto Y/N’s neglected pussy and sears through her skin and down to her bones. His quiet moans—reserved but still erotic—fizzle along the surface of her skin and embed themselves in her mind to be replayed over, and over. White dribbles decorate his large hand and paint Y/N’s spread centre, coalescing with the thick, glassy slick of her own arousal—and she only just catches his hypnotised whispers.
Mumbles of a half-conscious man, “That’s it, fuck. So pretty.”
But then he suggests complete clarity—the ability to stay cruel, as he fixes the gusset of Y/N’s underwear back over her sticky, come-painted pussy and smacks down with four fingers over the swollen sensitivity. She gasps and bucks, head throwing back before snapping forward to catch his gaze. Then he does it again, hard enough to jolt her entire body but not enough to hurt. It tingles, and warms, and spreads through her entire being.
And Y/N thinks that’s it. Harry has come and she’s going to keep it in her underwear just like he’d told her to. But then he expertly takes his forefinger and traces a circle around where he knows her clit lies underneath. He teases the nerves and utters something… something he’s said before.
“Let Daddy’s come soak in, that's a good girl.”
The blood rushes through her ears deafeningly. 
Let Daddy’s come soak in. It bounces around inside her skull. Let. Daddy. She shivers. He gives her another hard pat and her legs collapse from their propped up position, thighs landing heavily against his desk. Harry’s smile is one of a blissful man. Blissful yet perhaps sadistic. He tucks himself back into his trousers before starting to gently untie Y/N’s wrists. They fall like dead weights into her lap but Harry picks them both up to dot soft kisses around the tender of their pulses. Then he grants her a moment of stillness as his encapsulating palms glide along exposed skin. Up her thighs and to her middle where he adjusts her dress to fall over her lap. From palm to shoulder, blunt nails leaving trails of goosebumps as they scratch soothingly. Along her neck and up to her face, thumbs applying salve as they fix unruly eyebrows and trace imaginary lines.
She’s still undoubtedly buzzing, but Harry’s touch tells her it’s okay. He’s proud of her. She’s good. She’s his and she’s good.
“Thank you, love.” Y/N opens her heavy eyelids. “For letting me be a bit mean. I needed it.”
“It’s okay,” she smiles, “...liked it.”
Harry exhales a laugh, “I know y’did. But regardless,” he rests his hands on her waist and squeezes gently, “we’ll have a chat when I get home. About this, about specification and making sure we’re on the same page. And about certain types of… play. Yeah?”
Y/N sighs, something dreamy that trails off into something whiny. The centre of her legs is begging. She nods.
He knows. “I’ll take care of you, promise. But you’ll wait for me, won’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Lovely girl,” he kisses her—soft and saccharine. The type of kiss a husband gives to his wife.
Harry thinks he needn’t have asked. He certainly needn’t have ordered. Y/N would’ve waited for him no matter what. If not because she can’t make herself feel the way he does then because she just knows. Purposely or not, she just gets it. And he thinks he loves her for it.
Y/N might as well be on another planet.
She is uncomfortable to her own detriment—her thoughts are helpful to no one and she thinks if she were to hold her hands out in front of her they would shake. Her underwear is surely the consistency of paper mache and just placing one foot in front of the other has her feeling akin to a penguin; the waddle, in which she is paranoid she’s exhibiting, enough to make her rush home in a hypnotised funk.
But aside from the stickiness between her thighs and the distracting pulsating calling her like a siren, Y/N feels good. Much better than a few hours prior when she’d worried she’d been the cause of greatly upsetting Harry. That she’d ruined their relationship before it had even really begun.
Her mind can focus on only one thing… Daddy. It felt wrong to like the way it sounded coming from Harry’s mouth—the implications of playing with such a word—but Y/N couldn’t deny the way it made sense for her. His capability, his dominance, his ability to have Y/N’s overworking brain suddenly be granted tunnel vision for him and him only. His control, his power; it all clicks into place.
For a handful of absent minutes, Y/N sits and stares at the wall. Processing. But it’s hard—almost like her brain has been cloaked in a thick covering of fog—which Y/N is familiar with in other contexts. Of anxiety, and low mood, and exhaustion. Never has this fog been so direct in its assailing of her senses—she feels light and heavy, at the same time—is half inclined to just sit and wait at the door for Harry to come home like a dog. Her thoughts can only surround him; the way he spoke, the way he touched her, the way he controlled her. All of it replays over, and over, and over—keeping the torturous throbbing in between her legs alive and well. Until she sees the time and realises the thirty minutes she’s convinced herself have passed, has actually only been five.
So she does the only thing she can think of. She cleans.
Y/N finds cleaning therapeutic; the motion of washing away grime, of making things shiny and smell nice. It feels like renewal and it makes her feel competent. It’s something she struggles to do in her own home—finding the motivation can appear impossible at times. But for her to do it for Harry… it feels like something that will make him happy, something that will make her good, something that will make up, even the tiniest bit, for just how much he’s done for her. 
It’s exciting.
Her body whisks her around the house, almost as if on autopilot, as she hoovers, and dusts, and disinfects, and washes. Time moves so much faster now that she’s busy, that when Harry walks through the front door she’s sure he’s left work early. She hardly sees him until she’s right in front of his tall body. Then her heart melts.
“Harry,” her tone is soft, somewhat unshackled by the hesitancy she regularly possesses. Her lips curl into an easy smile and her muscles relax.
“What have you been up to, my fair maiden?” He teases, glancing at the pink rubber gloves decorating her fingers, delicate feathers tickling her forearms, and then to the little bucket hanging off her arm, filled with sprays and cans—cloths and wipes.
“Made it all clean for you…” She feels as though something is missing when she speaks… like it would be appropriate to call him Sir right now.
“What’s ‘it’, lovely? The house? You cleaned the whole house?”
Y/N’s grin widens and her head bobs up and down in an excitable nod. Harry’s chest tightens. Never has he come home to something like this before. A cooked meal, yes. A kiss and a promise of more later, yes. A girl bubbling with giddiness at the anticipation of his reaction to his home that she’s made spotless… never. It overwhelms him a little—the encapsulating desperation to smother her all of a sudden. To just hold her until their bodies fuse together.
Harry steps forward, taking her supplies and setting them down before gently unrolling the gloves from her hands. Then he’s snaking his arms around her waist and hoisting her up with ease, relishing in the squeal he gets from Y/N when he gives them both a little spin. He buries his face into her neck, pretending to bite her like he loves to do so often (it’s hardly pretending when he does actually do it). Her laughter bounces around them and blooms in his chest, echoing like the perfect birdsong. 
“What made you do all this?” He asks, pulling his face back to look into her eyes.
She goes shy, eyes avoiding his face as her lip catches between her teeth. “I missed you… wanted to do something nice. For… for…”
“For…” Harry prompts, capable hands stroking along her back.
Her eyes squeeze shut and her forehead falls forward, knocking against his own gently. It’s on the tip of her tongue and yet it feels impossible to get out. “For… Daddy,” she finally whispers. And it’s embarrassing. Heat spreads throughout her body—the humiliating kind but… but it feels good too. It feels submissive. Harry’s fingers dig into her back for a moment. Almost as though he can’t believe she actually said it. But she did, and she’s less nervous than usual, so she’s surely slipping through space.
“Well, he’s certainly very pleased with you, baby. Thank you.” He kisses her forehead. And he really concludes she’s feeling floaty when he tries to place her down, only to be met with grappling fingers knotting into the back of his shirt and strained whines of complaint. 
He does what she needs him to do. “Go and sit down in the living room. I’ll be in.” Y/N looks at him for a second, eyes darting back and forth between green. And when the sincerity of his gaze shines through, she relaxes and turns away, doing as Harry says.
He doesn’t need to make her wait. It’s not necessary. So he’s quick to hang his jacket up and loosen his tie, before retrieving a glass of water from the kitchen and taking it to Y/N. 
When she sees him again, the creases in her mind smooth themselves out. The sound of his dress shoes tapping along the hard floor is cushioned by the rug, and then he stands before her, silenting ordering she have a drink. There is no hesitation to comply.
“How are you feeling?” Harry asks, crouching down in front of where she sits. His trousers tighten around his thighs.
“Good,” she nods her head.
“Yeah?” He reaches for her legs, smoothing his palms up her knees to splay on top of her thighs. Warm. Secure. “Is your brain nice and quiet?” She nods again. “How long have you felt like this, darling?”
Y/N’s smaller hands rest atop Harry’s, fingers curling around his own for stability. “Since I left your office.”
He hums like he knows… which he does. Of course he knows. It couldn’t be more obvious that the centre of her thighs is sticky and hot. With his come, with her arousal. Harry’s blood pumps faster at the thought of the image—one he’s already seen but not for long enough. So he asks with complete understanding, “What did you like the most about that?”
Y/N’s eyes drop to the collar of Harry’s shirt. “Your tie… and your control… and you—you said… y’know...”
He tries not to laugh. “You’ve already said it once, sweetheart, surely it’s not so hard. Did you like it when Daddy came in your pretty panties? And all over your pretty pussy? Did you like it when he slapped your little cunt? I could feel it throbbing, baby. So desperate to come but Daddy didn’t let you, did he?”
Y/N mewls, head shaking and knees starting to bob up and down nervously. Harry keeps them still. 
“You’re slipping into a subspace, my love.” Harry grips her face gently, forcing eye contact. “I need you to really listen to me right now. What are your safewords? Tell me.”
“Red and Yellow.”
“Good girl. Never forget them, okay?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He smiles, pulling her towards him to sponge a soft kiss to her lips. “I want you to start using Green, as well. Green means you’re good, you’re enjoying yourself and you don’t want to stop. I’m going to ask you for your colour more than usual today, darlin’. You understand?”
“Yes, Sir. Green is good.”
“Lean into how you’re feeling. I’m more than capable of taking care of you, okay? I want you to feel safe. But if you want to stop, you’ll tell me. You’ll say that tiny, little word. Just one Red, or one Yellow, and I’ll stop everything immediately.”
“Okay. Okay, Sir. I understand.” Her fists reach out, landing on his chest in soft frustration. She’s waited long enough. She understands—she understands very well, in fact. And whilst her head might be free from the usual weight of anxiety, it’s since been replaced with the deafening resounding of Harry’s name, Harry’s voice, Harry.
“Do you want me to take care of you, Y/N?” He asks it but it’s a command for her. To look him in the eye and communicate.
“Yes,” she nods. “Please, Harry, I—need you.”
It settles thick and buzzing in his stomach. I need you. He needs her just as much, he’s certain. 
“Darling, tell me your colour.”
Green. So fucking green. Bright, luminescent green—Great Gatsby light-at-the-end-of-the-dock green.
Y/N had done so well to ask to be tied up again. Pulling her hands up above her and to the headboard; so much more intense, so much more vulnerable. Harry had made her ask, mind you, (goaded and teased until she was fervent with need) but he is still so proud. Her body is stretched out for him, ankles too shackled in soft ribbons and tied to either side of the end of his bed frame. 
This was different territory, and that’s why Harry has to keep asking. He leans over her, looking for her gaze. “Darlin’,” Y/N blinks up at him with a coy smile, “colour.”
“Green.” She pouts her lips expectantly, head lifting up from the pillows to reach him. His mouth is right there… right there. He drops slightly and kisses her chastely. Unsatisfyingly for Y/N who wants more—who wants everything—but Harry pulls away, content that she’s happy. 
“Good.” He stands back up at the foot of the bed, admiring the naked girl below him. Completely nude except for her underwear, where underneath she is still very much unsatiated and painted in Harry. It’s impossible to resist smoothing his fingers over her mound; fabric long from being dry. Just the pressure of his digits makes her skin scatter with goosebumps. “Pretty thing. Is this what you were thinking about all afternoon? Waiting for me to come home and spread you out... and take care of your little ache?”
Y/N feels drunk. Her body is hot and cold, light and heavy. She’s embarrassed to be so open for him but it feels squashed somehow—like shame and shyness couldn’t stand a chance in getting in her way. It’s why she feels confident enough to push her hips up into his hand, and stare directly into his eyes without giving a verbal answer.
But Harry knows, so perfectly, how to respond to her. Harry knows what Y/N wants before she does. “Have we forgotten how to speak?” He looks down to her jutted hips pointedly, pushing them firmly back to the mattress and taking his hand away. A minor punishment for demanding his touch.
“No, Sir.”
This is new. She’s… cheeky. She’s begging for help—she’s swimming through waves of fog and clarity, desperation and discipline.
Harry has to bite back a smile; refusing to give her a small victory. It seems the descent into subspace has given her confidence—an unconscious urge to push his buttons. He could push her deeper with ease, mould her into the malleable state he knows well… or he could see what else she has to say for herself.
“No. Sir.” Harry repeats her words slowly, bluntly, almost as though he’s feeling them out. “I thought…” his fingertips dance up her left calf. “I thought…” up to the inside of her thigh where the skin is oh, so sensitive—silky and delicate—“that we established an affinity for the other word, hm?” He takes the backs of his nails and drags them down her right leg, provokingly slowly, and watching as it twitches into his touch.
Whether it’s the excitement of finding out what Harry will do next if she doesn’t comply, or the genuine mortification of saying it—Y/N can’t do it. She can’t force the word out of her mouth; it swims around in her brain but refuses to meet her tongue. “Ha—Harry.”
“Oh,” he laughs humourlessly, “Harry, she says. Harry. Okay, love, and what about the other one?”
Her face breaks a little, scrunching up as she shakes her head. “Can’t.”
Harry smacks his fingers on her right breast, pulling downward as he assaults her peaking skin. It’s not so hard, but the sound and the shock of the sudden strike has Y/N gasping out, her back arching. “Yes. You can. Managed just fine earlier.”
“No,” she whines, sounds getting caught in the back of her throat as she pulls against the headboard slightly.
Harry demands in earnest, “Colour.”
Y/N huffs, “Green,” her tone petulant and sulky. It was really hard to admit liking something when she was fighting it at the same time.
“Oh dear,” Harry frowns, “she’s having a little strop.” Y/N only pulls harder, unable to hide her face in any way with her limbs so restricted. She tries her legs too, knees able to bend ever so slightly before Harry flattens them to the bed. “That’s okay, I can wait.” Then he pulls his hand back, watching for Y/N’s body to tense up as he feigns bringing his harsh fingers down again. Instead, when her back arches as he holds his hand in the air, he puts it to her left breast in a hard squeeze. The air is forced out of Y/N’s lungs; surprise, relief, disappointment all coalescing. “I can wait or I can force it out of you. One word—it’s all I want. Admit you like it.”
She looks at him—embarrassment, pleasure, vulnerability all clear as day on her face. He can see the thoughts as they pass behind her eyes. She yearns to obey but she’s still clinging onto the mortification. Saying that word once had felt like climbing a mountain and—she’s doubting herself—it hadn’t sounded right from her lips. She’d been too coy, too ashamed. It’s too much, she’s panicking, she wants Harry to push her deeper.
“Hm? What’s the word, baby, are you g’na tell me?” Harry’s hands flatten against her sternum, dragging down to rest on her stomach. He’s got one knee propped up against the outside of her thigh, like he’s preparing to join her on the bed.
Y/N frowns and shakes her head like she’s sad to admit it. Like she’s apologising for not being able to, remorseful to let him down. Her eyes are glassy, and her face is warm. She’s so close to letting go; to sinking deep into the mattress like it’s made of marshmallow. She assumed she was already there whilst she was pottering about, waiting for Harry to get home, but her thoughts were still very much buzzing at the forefront of her mind—no matter how thick or concentrated they may have been. She wants to think nothing. She just wants to feel.
“No. Okay,” Harry sighs. He sounds frustrated but he’s not really. He’s excited. But his stoic demeanour remains. “That’s okay, I’ll take care of it. I’ll get you so dumb that that pretty mouth responds no matter what I ask of it.”
Y/N nods. Yes, yes, that’s exactly what she wants. “Please.” Her hips push up again instinctively. Harry finally climbs up to hover over her, thighs bracketing one of her own. His knee threatens to push into her centre. 
A hum sounds from the back of his throat as he leans down to kiss Y/N’s cheek with soft lips. “Still Green?”
She exhales dreamily, head tilting a fraction to encourage his mouth to meet hers. “Yes.”
Harry gives her what she silently asks for. His lips over hers, his hands smoothing across the sides of her face and into her hair, shared breaths, and gentle strokes of tongue. Palms trail down her body, landing on her waist. They squeeze enough to make Y/N jolt and Harry smile against her mouth. Then he hoists her body up so she’s bearing her weight on her upper back and the hot middle of her legs meets Harry’s thigh. 
Her breath catches. Thick, warm muscle cloaked in tight black material pressing against damp, slick underwear. She feels full without actually being so—the presence of him there making her clit throb and her panties rub tantalisingly over her arousal. Harry controls her movements with the fingers digging into her waist—his thumbs brush featherlight over her stomach and it makes Y/N shiver; the softness.
But, rather contrastingly, the softness between her own thighs and the hardness that presses into her core is far from chaste. He moves her up and down over his meaty flesh, “Still… Green?” he asks, knowing damn well Y/N is silent with pleasure and nothing else. Her mouth is agape—the first sign of finally appeasing the lasting thrumming shocking her into speechlessness. 
The inside of her panties is cold against her… and feels full, and sticky, and nasty. She’s sure were Harry to peel them away that they’d stick, and take strands with them as they went. Y/N finds she’s dreading that moment significantly… or is it precisely the opposite? Is she despairingly desperate for him to see her all messy? Is she hoping he’ll have no other choice than to mock and ridicule her? She whines loudly and the sound drags on as she points her chin to the ceiling and pushes her cunt further onto Harry’s thigh.
Her breast stings, and Y/N looks up to find one of Harry’s hands squeezing it tightly. He’d smacked her again but she can’t possibly think why. Until he says, “I asked you a question, silly girl. Still Green?”
It takes her a few seconds to process his words—warmth spreading underneath his hand and the feel of her nipple grazing his palm adequately slowing her brain function—but when she does, her head moves up and down fervently. Harry can’t help but slip his hand up from her tit to slink around her throat, squeezing the sides and deliciously restricting her blood flow. “I don’t understand dopey nodding, baby. Tell me,” which is cruel because there’s a rather large, compressing element against her voicebox.
“Gr—een,” Y/N exhales.
“Good girl,” he releases the pressure of his fingers, hand still holding as Y/N’s throat contracts underneath. “Does that feel nice? Against Daddy’s thigh, hm?” Harry pulls her onto him harder, flexing his muscle as he starts grinding her hips for her. Y/N mewls and moans, nodding despite Harry’s previous aversion to it. Her wetness is starting to seep through to his slacks, warm and sticky. “I know you love it, Y/N. Why won’t you just say it?” His hands move down to clutch onto her hips, speeding up the way her centre rubs against his thigh. “Just one… tiny… word. That’s all I want.”
Y/N’s abdomen tightens. Her orgasm has been dormant all day, and even the most pathetic of touching is awakening it. She shakes her head before she realises she’s even doing it; too focused on the feeling between her thighs to appropriately respond.
And that’s when Harry really starts to fray around the edges. There’s a certain thing that’s been floating around in his head. For weeks, and weeks, and weeks. Ever since he met Y/N. The idea of tickling her at her most vulnerable, as a pleasurable torture device. Her hands and ankles are tied—there’s no getting away from it, no escaping Harry’s cruel, slender fingers as they start to wiggle and dig into Y/N’s sides. Harry watches her squirm and relishes in her immediate shriek. Her back arches as she tries fruitlessly to get out of his grasp and her bound limbs tug and twist against the silky ribbons. He could do this forever; literally and figuratively. She’s at his complete and utter disposal. He pulls her against his thigh again, and in a frenzied motion, tugs her panties aside hard enough to hear rips and see elastic snap.
Her pussy is swollen—unsurprisingly so but Harry still groans. Copious amounts of slick, turned creamy with drops of his come still nestled between her, immediately staining his trousers. She cries out, sucking in desperate breaths when Harry stops tickling her for a moment. Too transfixed to multitask. He runs a thumb through her and near shivers at the sound of her gasp, putting his shiny digit to her lips to paint them salaciously. He hums, “Dirty girl, leaving this filth in your panties all day.”
And Y/N can’t even respond. Not because she’s at a loss for words (although that remains true) but because Harry starts to speed up. Everything. He attacks her in motions so fast that Y/N cannot process them—she can only take it.
Harry spits down onto her—so much like the way he did in his office—watching it land on her clit before rubbing it in with his thumb. It’s so unnecessary; to make her wetter. Y/N has literally never been this wet in her entire life, but she supposes it’s addictive—to make things all messy. He circles her quickly with such perfect pressure that Y/N could come if he just kept going. But he doesn’t. He stops to grab her waist again, forcing her hips to roll over, and over, and over until Y/N is right on the edge—back arching and cute, erotic sounds flowing from her lips—and then he digs his fingers into her flesh, cruel and calculated.
Y/N stutters, and the desperation to escape only has her cunt pushing harder into Harry’s thigh. He’s relishing in her squirms, evil to his core. “Please!” She begs but it’s not clear.
Harry coos, “Oh, I don’t know what you want. You’ll have to tell Daddy, sweetheart.”
“Please, please, please,” Y/N cries, jolting body bending all out of shape as Harry burrows into the sensitive skin of her waist.
“You wanna come? Is that it?”
“Yes!” No. Not right now. Right now she wants Harry to stop. fucking. tickling. her. “Harry…” she drags the sound of the ‘Y’ out, whingy and pathetic. But then he does stop. He stops and he pulls his thigh away and Y/N panics. “No! Please, Sir.” She wants to reach for him but her wrists remain.
“Dumb, whiny girl. You don’t know what you want, either.” Harry leans over her sensitive body, lips trailing up the centre of her chest and up to her ear. “I’m half inclined to just stick my dick in you and go to sleep. I’ve had a long day, you know? I’d quite like some rest… with a warm, tight cunt to soothe me.” Y/N clenches around nothing. She can feel a thick trail of arousal dripping down to her bum. It makes her wriggle. “I know what I want,” he says, breath delicate against the shell of Y/N’s ear. “I want you to admit you like calling me Daddy. It’s not a hard ask, sweetheart. Just say it.”
Harry kisses down her neck, sucking her skin into his mouth; pressing his lips to every available inch of flesh. Y/N’s heart pounds, heavy and loud beneath her ribs. Harry might even be able to feel it as he passes over with his mouth. “If you say it…” his face is hovering over her tummy—down, further, until his soft exhalations are hitting Y/N’s clit, “I’ll let you come. If you don’t… well… I happen to be very content staying right here.” And then he flattens his tongue against her, finally cleaning her up.
Harry moans just to watch Y/N’s mouth fall open—nose nudging her clit tantalisingly. He licks her so slowly but so intensely, sighing happily as his stubble saturates. Y/N can feel her orgasm building already. He knows, of course—doesn’t let her tip over the edge. Especially not when she doesn’t even try to beg. His palm comes down against the inside of her thigh, stealing a cry from her as she writhes around.
Big hands snake underneath to hold Y/N’s ass, pulling her into his face. She doesn’t take long to get there again, noises increasing in both frequency and volume. “Har… Oh, please. Please.” Her clit is so sensitive. It was before it had even really been touched but now it’s just bullied. Harry pushes his face in deeper as his response, tongue stroking her walls and nose bumping her with each curl.
But then he pulls away again, inhaling deeply and dropping Y/N’s hips to the mattress. “We taste good together, y’know,” straddling her waist with his thighs—one still considerably stained by her slick—and capturing her lips in a proper kiss. A kiss that makes Y/N whimper into his mouth, a kiss that makes her head clear, a kiss that tells her she’s hopelessly in love. He holds her face, lips parting just enough for him to mutter, “What’s your colour, darling?”
“Green. But—Please, can I come?”
He pulls back to look at her. “I don’t know, sweetheart, have you called me Daddy yet?”
Y/N pauses… and then she nods, “When you got home.”
Harry’s fingers quickly reach down and squeeze her waist, smiling when she yelps. He laughs, “That doesn’t count.”
“Please?”
“You’re being so coy. We both know you want to say it.”
“It’s embarrassing!”
“You’ve already done it once!”
“That was different, Sir.”
Harry strokes his palms along her ribs and over her breasts. “Why’s that?”
“I was… I don’t know.” She inhales. “I do like it, I really like it, Harry please.” Y/N tries to twitch her hips; impossible underneath the vast weight of Harry’s sturdy body.
He hums, pleased to hear her admit something. “What are you missing?” He thumbs over her nipples. Her breath catches.
She could do it. She wanted to do it. “D—Daddy.”
Harry kisses her again—surges forward bruisingly to sponge their lips together. “Good girl,” he whispers into her mouth. “Good girl, say it again.”
She huffs, frustrated, aroused, and desperate simultaneously. “Please, Daddy.”
“Fuck, there you go,” he grunts, shuffling his thighs down her body to bracket her knees. He wastes no time smearing four digits over her clit in rapid swipes. Y/N throws her head back, mewling and gasping. “Does my pretty girl w’na come? All over Daddy’s fingers? Yeah?”
“Yuh-huh, yeah, yeah, please, oh—” Harry presses his hand into her abdomen, refusing to let her hips undulate, as he finally lets Y/N come, sending her over the edge with a swat to her cunt. Her moans crescendo—cute, uh’s and other choked sounds—wrists pulling at the headboard as soon as the overstimulation kicks in. “Oh—oh, God, yes,” she breathes as she comes down, Harry’s thumb now swiping gently through the thick arousal that has pooled out of her.
He brings it to his mouth, “Mm, well done, baby.” Overwhelmed tears pool in her eyes, the pleasure buzzing through her veins. Now, she’s floating. Harry frowns, smoothing a palm over her head. “Col—”
“Green!” Y/N exclaims quickly. Her bottom lip wobbles. “Felt really, really good.”
Harry reaches behind him, blindly but gently, untying her ankles from the bedposts. Y/N doesn’t move them. “Would you still be Green if I fucked you, darlin’?”
She nods instantly, “Yes, yes, Green,” pushing her hips up.
He rubs his thumbs over her ankles—a soft moment—before he’s flipping her body over. Her bound wrists cross and her face pushes into the pillow. It smells like Harry; Y/N breathes in deeply.
Harry looks over the woman lying face down on his bed. Her pretty bum, her soft miles of skin begging to hold the indentations of his fingers, the ribbon adorning her wrists—he breathes out. Then he loosens his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt. He kicks his shoes off and unzips his slacks. Y/N turns her head to the side, seeing Harry’s clothes fall to the floor out of the corner of her eye. She wriggles in excitement and Harry gives her ass an affectionate tap.
“Hips up,” he says, reaching over her to grab a pillow and stuff it underneath her body. Harry is sure he’s never seen a more beautiful view. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he kisses the bottom of her spine. Y/N exhales a shaky breath, feeling as though she’s drifting peacefully in a vast ocean—as Harry caresses her skin slowly, surely, taking her all in.
She could so easily profess something silly in this moment.
“Harry,” she says instead.
“Yes, darling?”
“Will you untie me, please?”
He reaches up for her hands immediately, pulling the ends of the ribbon and letting it fall up her arms and flutter to the sheets. “Are y’hurting?”
Y/N shakes her head, letting her limbs fall heavy beside her head, “Want you to hold them,” she whispers.
Harry kisses her cheek, “Let me get a condom. What do you say if you want me to stop?”
“Yellow or Red,” she replies, eyes closing delicately. She could probably fall asleep and dream of that everlasting ocean. But then the mattress shifts, and safe, warm hands glide up her back.
“You’re so lovely,” he murmurs. Y/N hears the ripping of a wrapper, and the silence of Harry rolling on the condom. She feels his hands adjusting her hips, pulling at her bum. “Such pretty holes,” he mutters to himself. Y/N whines and buries her head into the pillow, humiliated and overwhelmed with anticipation. But then Harry runs a thumb over her untouched entrance and her head comes shooting back up. “Shh, shh, I’m just feeling you. I can’t wait to play with you here.”
“Harry,” Y/N complains, butterflies going rampant in her tummy. She can’t wait either, it seems.
His hands drop to the backs of her thighs, thumbs brushing the outside of her lips. Then they leave her skin and a familiar thickness swipes through her, tapping against her clit momentarily. Instinctively, Y/N wants to push up on her knees, but Harry keeps her flat with a palm to the bottom of her spine. “You g’na take Daddy like a good girl?”
A shiver runs through her, “Yes—yes, yes.” She takes a deep breath.
“That’s it,” his voice is tight as he watches himself get swallowed around her. He wants to be cruel—wants to keep just the head snug inside of her, pull out, push back in, pull out, nudge it around her clit… He thinks about it—he does. But he just can’t bear the thought. She’s so warm and squeezes him with every breath; pulling out would be sacrilege. “This little pussy loves me, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir,” Y/N whines, every inch forcing the breath from her lungs.
Harry smacks her ass, holding firmly onto her hip when she jolts, “Yes, who?” pushing in deeper as she struggles to process his question. His palm comes down on the other side. “Yes, who?”
Y/N wants to push her body back, feel the weight of Harry’s balls snug against her clit, prod the space inside of her that he is so familiar with. But she takes too long to answer. She must do—because Harry starts to pull out and Y/N’s heart plummets. No, no, no.
“Daddy! Yes, Daddy.” Her face burns. “Please—please don’t leave me.”
His hips stutter. He knows what she means. Literally—she doesn’t want him to leave her, literally. To pull out entirely. But the way it sounds… It sounds like… 
Harry pushes back in. All the way. He leans his immense body over Y/N’s pretty back and entwines his fingers with hers that lie beside her head—just as she’d asked. His big palms holding and protecting. She all but disintegrates into the bed, a relieved sob leaving her lips as Harry’s weight presses her down and he kisses her cheek. Her eyes struggle to stay open; the overwhelming fullness inside of her and the compression of Harry’s body, it’s peace incarnated.
“Does that feel good, baby? Daddy’s thick cock filling you up.”
“Mhm. S—so, so…” She weakly squeezes Harry’s fingers, blissful sigh falling from her lips. But when Harry starts to pull his hips back—having let Y/N adjust—her grip tightens. “Please. Stay.”
Harry is only surprised for a moment, and then he says, “Stay? How am I supposed to fuck you if I don’t move, darlin’?” Y/N pushes her bum back into him, silently begging. “You jus’ want me nice and deep in you, yeah? Is that right?”
“Yes, please.”
“Does this make you happy?” His voice softens and he unlinks one of their hands so he can trace Y/N’s hairline, behind her ear, across her cheek, down the bridge of her nose. He’s never seen her so content. He’d thought he had before, when she was with him, specifically. But this moment, right here—this is the most tranquil he’s ever seen anyone. “Yeah? Are you happy, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy, ‘m so happy—thank you.”
Harry nudges her chin and captures her lips. It’s awkward from the position she’s in, neck stretching to reach him, but it’s perfect. It’s intimate, and trusting, and says so much with no words. They look like the perfect depiction of raw, human connection.
They kiss and Harry stays atop Y/N in mind-numbing serenity. He’ll shift his hips inside of her and her mouth will stop responding to his, slack against his lips as he licks into and against her tongue. Everything is slow. And maybe Harry hadn’t necessarily planned this pace but he likes it—it makes sense.
He starts to grind his hips into her bum and Y/N tightens up. “Relax, sweet girl, know it feels good but relax.” Harry thinks if his dick wasn’t screaming at him to chase pleasure, that he’d be happy to stay like this forever. In the most intimate and warm of embraces. He retracts ever so slightly, not enough for Y/N to complain about, and then sinks back in. Flush against her body. She squeezes around him and Harry can feel how wet her walls are. A part of him wants to fuck her hard enough to hear it too.
They fall into a rhythm. A slow, intense rhythm. One that builds up to the type of orgasm that overwhelms a person so much, they can never forget it. Almost a core memory. One they think about; the way it consumed their entire being—for vivid minutes—and left their body weak and pliant. Y/N’s muscles give in completely, allowing Harry to nudge all the right places with every single twitch of his hips. 
She’s mewling—a constant stream of pathetic noises—and Harry’s finding it hard not to do the same. He can feel the increase of the pulsating around him. “You’re close, baby.” He doesn’t need to inquire—he knows. “Hold it. Can you do that f’me?” Y/N moans, the side of her face smushed against the pillow. She hasn’t had one coherent thought for the last ten minutes, so she surely can’t start now. She can’t hold it, not really; she’s never had to before. But Harry doesn’t need her to, as such. He’s sure his orgasm is just as close as hers. “Darlin’, tell Daddy you’ll hold it.” It’s still fun though.
“I—I’ll ho—hold it, Daddy,” she slurs, crushing Harry’s fingers. His chest is flush to her back and his hips to her bum. He unlinks one of their hands to curl a bulging bicep around her throat, dewy face pressing into her cheek as he whispers expletives to her. Murmurs of how good she is for him, his good fucking girl. Daddy’s so proud and he loves you so much—
Except—No. He can’t say that. It lingers on the tip of his tongue but he pushes it back down and swallows uncomfortably around it. Daddy’s so proud and he wants you to come for him. Yeah. That’s right.
Y/N nestles her mouth around the skin of his arm—the inside of his elbow—attempting to burrow her nose into his flesh and muscle as she whimpers and whines. Her tummy is swirling and her heart is racing and it feels so good her eyes are watering. “Pleathe,” she muffles around his skin. And Harry can feel it too, the way it builds for them both. A fusion of throbbing, and ecstasy, and something so monumental they feel as though they’re the only two people alive. Because how could there be other people living when Y/N and Harry felt so good?
“Come on, baby. I can feel it, give it t’me.”
Y/N clenches around him as he nudges so deep and then releases Harry’s arm to beg, “Inside, inside, please.”
It nearly ruins everything, the sudden disappointment that washes over him at remembering his inability to do so. But he plays along—after all, Harry loves to play. “Yeah? Y’want Daddy to fill you up? Want his warm come dripping out of you, baby? You’re so dirty.” 
She nearly comes then, just from his words alone. But then he reaches his other hand down, roughly shoves it underneath her body and finds her clit easily. Y/N might as well have exploded. She withers, she disintegrates, she is dismantled to nothing but a shaking mess as she orgasms. Her body trembles and her throat releases high pitched cries, trailing off into tired moans as a few tears escape over her waterline. All while Harry bites down on her shoulder, holding off as long as he can for no good reason. To stay coherent enough to witness Y/N at her most beautiful, perhaps. But her cunt quivers around him, squeezing and releasing so quickly that he can’t help but finally let himself come. 
“Oh, yeah— f—fuckin’ shit.” He buries his face in the back of Y/N’s hair, holding as much of her as he possibly can with the arm around her front. His fingers cease on her clit shakily, thumping down next to their bodies as he tries to support his weight. It’s fruitless, and he lets his chest mould to Y/N’s back as the last of his release fills the condom. He came a lot and he’s almost upset that he can’t fall asleep right now. But Y/N is still trembling and his instincts kick in once again.
“Good girl, baby. My best girl. You did so well,” he whispers, adjusting his hands so they’re holding himself above her. He dots kisses wherever on her face he can reach. A tear falls down the bridge of her nose and he sponges his lips to it. “Can you talk to me? Are these happy tears?” Y/N nods clumsily, stiffly trying to turn onto her back. Harry pauses her. “Let me pull out, sweetheart. Breath in f’me. There you go, darlin’, let’s see your pretty face proper.”
He doesn’t get much of a chance, however, as Y/N launches her heavy arms around his shoulders and urges him to lay on top of her again. Harry laughs gently, wrapping his arms around her back. She exhales contentedly. “You made me stop thinking,” her throat tightens. “I didn’t have to think.”
Harry squeezes her, “You don’t have to start again yet. You don’t ever have to think when you’re with me.”
Silence overtakes them for a while. Harry has rolled over so that Y/N is lying on top of him. Then he says, “I’m sorry, baby.”
Y/N frowns and props her chin on his chest. “What for?”
“If I had known you were floating away earlier, I wouldn’t have made you come home.”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay… I think—I think I’ve been like that before. Not sexually but… when I’m having a bad day I can go a bit… weird.”
“It’s not weird. You just get into a headspace. That’s what I’m here for. It doesn’t have to be sexual all of the time.”
They talk. They talk, and talk, and talk.
About her subspace, and the office, and the… friends thing.
“I didn’t know you liked to be so… so mean.” She treads carefully. She doesn't want him to think she doesn’t like it.
“I like control… which you give me plenty of already but—sometimes I need to be rough, sometimes I need to be angry.”
“You were angry? Earlier?”
“Not angry… frustrated. I was frustrated and I was a hypocrite, actually, and I shouldn’t have turned it into a sex thing.”
“I didn’t mind.”
He laughs, “I know but…I don’t want to get into that habit, love.”
“But…” she pauses. Harry looks at her and raises an eyebrow. “You said we’d talk about… about certain types of play.”
He hums, “I did. You like being tied, yeah? Like being restrained?”
Y/N nods, her chin moving against his chest. She’s more honest in this state. “I think… doing what you tell me to do… is the thing.”
“Mhm. I do too. You’re not gagging for silk, you’re gagging to be given orders and to have me do as I please to you.”
“Maybe,” she admits coyly, flattening her forehead to his sternum. Harry sinks his hand into her hair and tugs lightly in response. Then she purposely speaks so that it is near impossible for him to hear.
Harry still picks up certain, important words. “I can’t come in you, baby. Not unless we discuss it first.”
“Let’s discuss it now!” Y/N lifts her head up again, a hopeful glint in her eye.
Harry pinches her arse. “No. Later, I promise.”
Silence befalls once again, and they really ought to get up, pee, clean up, eat dinner. But Harry asks one more thing of Y/N. “What have I taught you today?” He echoes his words from when the pair were hidden away in his office.
She answers with no hesitation. “I’m yours.”
Y/N wouldn’t say she had purposefully littered her personality around Harry’s home, but when you spend more time somewhere than you do your own house, it tends to happen.
She buys some fridge magnets one day. A pack of letters—one of each in the alphabet—and the numbers zero to nine. Which, even as she is buying them she thinks, how ridiculous—that you can only spell words that don’t require more than one of the same letter. And yet she pays for them anyway.
She thinks about what she’ll spell out on her own fridge—but she’s too impatient to ponder for longer than a couple of minutes, sure that they’ll just be displayed in alphabetical order and reveal a true lack of imagination. 
Somehow, they end up on Harry’s fridge, and Y/N finds that she’s much happier with that. Now she could leave him swear words and other insignificant things alike. Peas, Crow, Nip, Oink. Once she spelt out C-U-N-T but felt it too inappropriate for kitchen decor and quickly changed the C for a P.
Whatever word Y/N chooses to leave for the day has always been altered by the end of it; the silent game between Harry and her soon becoming a reason to peek at the fridge unnecessarily just to see if their letters have been rearranged. If he is up before Y/N, the morning light makes his head especially saccharine and the magnets are always spelling sweet names. Love, Pet, Angel, Darling. But by the evening, he’s a little less soppy. Stinky, Mush, Gremlin, Bean.
Y/N once spelled out I Love You (using the zero as the second O) just to see what it would look like but felt like she was doing something naughty and quickly disorganised them in a far from natural manner.
Then Harry buys her some little strawberry magnets and places them on her fridge without telling her. When she sees them, it makes her heart skip a beat. Along with the dozens of clothes he continues to purchase for her, his wardrobe has been considerably disturbed and he figures he ought to leave his mark somewhere in her home too. If not her wardrobe then her fridge would do just fine. But there's really no competition, because if you were to take a peek inside of his dresser, Harry’s clothes would be generously making room there too for Y/N’s—something she always feels guilty about but Harry denies her any opportunity to move anything to her own home. 
He wants to tell her to do the opposite. To take everything from her house and put it in his. But he doesn’t. And he won’t.
He’ll just keep relishing over seeing her shoes by the front door, her shampoo in his shower, and her charger plugged in next to his bed.
The stomach has an interesting relationship with the brain. And the brain has an interesting relationship with the heart.
Because Y/N’s heart tells her (and has been for longer than she wants to admit) that she’s fallen in love with Harry… but her brain refuses to take love—as an option entirely—into consideration. And at the same time, on a particularly bleak weekday evening, her stomach says that it’s threatening violence if she doesn’t eat something and her brain translates that to a complete dismantlement of her capability.
It’s funny (only in retrospect) that being hungry can result in such a drastic change in one’s behaviour. That an empty tummy can make even the gentlest of souls behave erratically—so suddenly full of anger that even the smallest of things can make them explode.
Y/N has had a bad day… and… well… Every day is a bad day for Y/N. When you hate your job—hate working, even—every single day ends in dread for the next. And sometimes, every so often for Y/N, things start to build up. It’s slow and steady, and can take weeks if not months to lead to a breakdown. But she does break down… and it happens far too often for the average person to deem healthy.
Today she’s reaching her limit.
It’s just something she can feel brewing, from the moment she wakes up. And there’s no denying that her life has improved drastically in recent times. That waking up now fills her with the excitement of being able to see Harry again, instead of what was once a solemn reminder that she was still living the same old, uneventful, depressing life. She didn’t even class it as a life. Y/N was just existing.
But Harry isn’t a drug. He can’t calm the buzzing in Y/N’s head, all the time. He can distract, sure. But he can’t cure.
So when Y/N woke up with the knowledge that she was going to Harry’s house after work and it didn’t get her through the day with ease, she knew her balloon of stress was about to pop.
Her body feels heavy as she unlocks the grand door to the home she’s spent more time in than her own, recently. Except there’s no Harry to kiss her hello, to take her bag and to sweep her off her feet. No. Because he’s still working. Because that’s what he does. The same as always, and yet today it breaks her heart.
Classically and disastrously, a telling sign that Y/N’s period is due makes itself known as a cramp sears through her abdomen. Which only upsets her further. Because, really, where is the necessity of pain before the bleeding has even begun. Where is the respite? And not so long ago, Y/N would have walked past the kitchen and fallen face first onto her bed. But knowing she has someone now that will care very deeply if she doesn’t eat dinner has her feet heading for shining tiles. Y/N doesn’t know if she could take a punishment today. Not a punishment fuelled by genuine disappointment, anyway. Maybe if Harry swatted her hard enough it would rewire her brain.
But now that she’s acknowledged the existence of food, Y/N is suddenly aware of the intense hunger beating in her stomach. And she’s too tired. Too weak to try and make anything, or do anything. She just wants to lie down. The island becomes a surface intended for rest as Y/N transfers her weight to her forearms and lets her head turn into a dead weight on her shoulders as it hangs down. Just for a moment. Just for a moment that feels impossible to physically shift from. She could sleep standing; it’s not impossible.
Her empty insides howl. Gurgle, and moan, and fuss. Y/N groans pitifully into the counter.
Sluggish movements carry her to the fridge—pulling the door open with the strength similar to that of a baby bird. Leftovers greet her like awkward friends in an uncomfortable situation. Desperately attempting to lighten the mood and only twisting the knife further. Because Y/N doesn’t want lasagne. And it nags at her, the voice of her mother exclaiming, “If you were really hungry, you’d eat it.” Which holds logic, it does. Y/N is hungry and she should want anything to quell that need but her brain doesn’t accept that. Her brain sees leftover lasagne and decides that it would rather starve—despite normally enjoying the meal.
Tears brim over Y/N’s waterline, frustration and exhaustion threatening to drip down her cheeks. Why was something so simple causing this much trouble? How could she be letting the concept of dinner make her cry?
But then she hears Harry, soft encouragement echoing in her skull. He’d tell her that he understood. That he knows she doesn’t want to eat but she will do to make him happy. To go to bed with a nice full stomach and take good care of herself.
And that outweighs everything. 
She reaches out for the ceramic dish, cold numbing her hands and tugs it to the counter. Even looking at it makes her frown. But Y/N finds a plate, and a serving spoon, and a knife, and a fork. She lays them all out in preparation, so orderly and neat. So much so that she doesn’t know how it happens. It shouldn’t happen—and it wouldn’t if she were another person or herself on another day—but today is a bad day, as previously mentioned. 
Perhaps she tugs the lasagne too quickly, or surprises herself with the amount of strength she uses. But the plate gets shoved too close to the edge. Close but not over. Not until Y/N panics to keep it on the counter and instead of guiding her hand underneath, she manages to knock it downwards and watch—in what feels like—three times speed as it crashes to the floor.
It’s far too loud. It’s piercing to Y/N’s tired ears. And it’s the icing on the cake of her poorly concealed feelings. The tears start to stream without constraint as the picture of shattered porcelain starts to blur.
The sound of the smash masks the opening of the front door. But whilst Y/N doesn’t hear Harry, Harry hears her, and he comes rushing into the kitchen with purpose. Her back is to him when he asks, “Have you hurt yourself?”
Y/N jumps, a wet gasp tearing from her throat. She spins around reflexively, unable to wipe away the tears on her saturated skin first.
Harry’s face falls. “Oh, my love. Did you cut yourself?”
Y/N wipes at her face frantically, head shaking. The broken plate taunts her from the floor, its jagged pieces begging her to get closer—to slice her skin on the sharp edges. Perhaps that would carve some sense into her. “No,” she forces out, her voice thick.
“What’s the matter?” He steps around the mess, comforting palms smoothing over shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, refusing to meet his eye.
“It’s just a plate,” Harry brushes it off. “What’s upset you, sweetheart?”
Y/N can only cry harder—her mind suddenly insistent on the reminder that she’s falling hopelessly in love as Harry’s soft, gentle voice caresses her soul. And love doesn’t help. Not right now. It makes her sob louder. Usually, Y/N is a woman of few words. Often nervous words, in a less than manic manner. But once she starts, it’s difficult to stop for long enough to claw back composure.
“I’m… hungry,” she blubs, eyes squeezing shut as she tries to inhale. “And tired—and my period is about to start. And I hurt. And I hate my job….I don’t—want to do it anymore. ‘m not ha—happy. And I want to go to bed,” she trails off in quivers, wet fingertips digging into fragile features.
Harry breathes for her, a slow, deep inhale as he processes all of her emotions. “Okay,” he whispers, large hand scratching the back of her head in hypnotic motions. Y/N’s face falls against his chest. Strong and steady, unmoving against her wracking body. He murmurs into the top of her head, “You’re as safe as you could possibly be right now. I’ve got you.”
And that’s exactly what she’s worried about.
The thick grogginess that comes with intense, painful crying is starting to fog up Y/N’s head. She’s never stepped away from Harry’s embrace before but that’s precisely what she finds herself doing. Harry doesn’t question it with the same ferocity that is plaguing Y/N’s thoughts; she’s not in a good place, after all. “One thing at a time, let’s get some food in you, yeah?”
What is realistically a simple request that Y/N would never refuse otherwise, has her head shaking from side to side once more. She doesn’t want to eat. She wants to sleep.
“No?” Harry cocks his head, palms outstretched in front of him in a silent expectancy that she’ll slip back into his hold. “I don’t know that I was asking you, darling. I believe I’m telling you. You know you need to eat.”
It feels foreign to disobey. But Y/N needs to protect herself, she needs to protect Harry, she needs to push these feelings down. “I don’t want to eat.” Her voice hardens. It’s jarring and more tears spill.
“I want you to eat. And you will. Because I know what’s best for you.” He stays gentle, somehow. His words are statements—orders—and yet his cadence stays wonderfully light. Y/N agrees with him; that he knows best, but it doesn’t translate to her mouth.
Or her head as she shakes it fervently, struggling to maintain eye contact as she looks up at Harry’s impressively calm face. His previously styled hair now falling over his forehead in delicious swirls. The dreamy slope of his nose that points towards his stubble dusted cupid’s bow and raspberry tinted lips. His beautiful face stays blank—not implying of any emotion.
“I’m not going to punish you. Or shout at you, or scold you, or do whatever it is you think you deserve. I can see it, darlin’. I know you’re tired, I know your head hurts you. I wish I could take it all away.” Y/N’s lip quivers and she sniffles loudly. Her eyes pinch shut, refusing to cry anymore, but it’s fruitless. Especially when Harry hoists her up by her waist and encourages her thighs to wrap around his body. The immediate relief from holding her own weight has Y/N lugging her arms over his shoulders and burying her wet face into his neck. He holds her tight, strong arms wrapped around with no intention of letting go as Y/N cries.
She thinks she starts to fall asleep, uncaring of Harry’s silent movements around the kitchen as she stays latched on. Half-consciously does she recognise the sounds of the microwave and the gentle nudging of broken porcelain with his foot into a pile he’ll clean up later. She hears him taking the lasagne out and her stomach certainly takes note of the smell, despite how fervently she refused to want it.
He hoists them both up on the counter, Y/N’s knees knocking a little against the hard surface. “G’na eat now, okay?” Harry says softly into the side of her head. The tears have ceased, but her face is very much melded to his neck with cold, salty trails.
Y/N shakes her head, “Tired.”
“I know, sweetheart. Let me see you.”
It’s embarrassing—to peel her face away. To show herself at her lowest, mentally and physically. And she knows the least relevant thing right now is how attractive she looks, but in the lap of a man that she’s sure has never been less than stunning, it’s intimidating and Y/N can’t help but have it on her mind. Along with everything else.
But she listens and Harry praises her for it.
“Hi, baby. You look so pretty,” dancing his fingertips around her hairline to bury behind her ears.
Y/N can’t help but snort—the sight relieving to Harry. “I’m crying.”
“I know. Call me a sadist, then, but you’re still pretty.” He doesn’t elaborate on how the wet clumping of her eyelashes makes her look something akin to a mermaid that guards the key to his heart at the bottom of an enchanted lake or that the shining of her cheeks begs to be kissed and soothed by his lips.
Although it seems she can hear his thoughts when she says, “You’re silly.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Stop!” Her hands meet his chest in a light thump and he smiles.
“Let me feed you?”
And that… that does sound quite nice. But there was something about this height of emotion that was making Y/N stubborn. So she doesn’t respond. Verbally or non. She looks at Harry, at his soft sea-glass green and stays silent. He brushes her wet cheeks with his thumbs, leaning forward to press the soft pillow of his lips to the tense space between her eyes.
Then he drops his voice to a tender brush of air against her forehead, “Do this f’me. Do this for Daddy,” and Y/N leans back with glistening eyes open wide to see as much of him as possible. It clears the fog a little, that one, small word. The dissolvement of responsibility—her weight supported by Harry, her face framed in his hands and her mouth the only thing she’d need to worry about when she inevitably gives in. When she nods slightly and curls her fingers into the back of his shirt. In return, Harry sinks his hand into the back of her hair, close to her scalp, and tugs a little. Not hard—just enough to feel tight and secure. “Good girl.”
For a moment, Y/N can’t even remember what she was crying about. And when she does recall, it doesn’t feel like such a big deal anymore.
Harry scoots further onto the island to allow room between them to hold Y/N’s dinner. Her knees are starting to ache against the surface but she doesn’t say anything. Not when she’s finally on the precipice of feeling peaceful. Not when Harry holds a mouthful up to his lips and blows gently to make sure the steaming pasta doesn’t burn her. Not when he hums quietly as Y/N accepts the food and her eyes flutter shut in contentment. 
One thing at a time, as Harry had said. Maybe he couldn’t quell her overworked brain but he could relish in her relaxed brows as he fed her. And then he could carry her to his bed (now just as much hers as it was his own—especially with the sprinkling of products and clothes alike decorating his furniture) and help her fall into a much needed slumber.
When it comes to it (going to bed), Y/N plucks up the courage to put on her comfiest nightie that she’d stowed away in Harry’s dresser for a bad day. It’s not inherently embarrassing to wear a nightie but… what’s on it makes Y/N feel a little silly. Cartoon Ariel and Flounder underneath a banner that reads ‘100% Mermaid’… She’d had it a little while. And it’s not that she worries that Harry will make her feel stupid but it does make her look a little childish—it’s hardly lingerie.
But she needn’t have worried when Harry takes her tired brain and cradles it in his hands—spews some filth like he can’t help it—and calms the bothersome thoughts. “Why would you think, when I can see your nipples hardening through the material, and you’ve got your pretty legs all bare, and when I hold you tonight as your little nightie rucks higher and higher up and over your ass for such easy access, that I would give a shit about what’s printed on it? Would you rather me say that my dick goes limp at the sight, darling?”
It’s safe to say she learns to love the way it looks.
Harry notices a change in Y/N’s behaviour.
It’s subtle to begin with—something he doesn’t question straight away—because he wants to figure out what’s going on without making her aware.
Little things like forcing Harry to ask her more than once to do something—Come here, sit down, stand up. They might sound disrespectful from an outside perspective but that’s how the pair operate. Y/N likes being told. But recently she has been hesitating, literally and figuratively. She’ll abide only after Harry has asked two or three times, and on multiple occasions she will say something he deems bratty (“Make me,” tends to be her favourite) and trail off with big eyes—as though she’s waiting for him to punish her for it.
He never bites. He thinks he can tell that she wants him to; he never does. It never feels natural, never comfortable in his heart.
And then there’s the breaking of rules. Which he takes far more seriously. Not even to protect his ego but because Y/N’s rules are set in place to keep her healthy—and Harry cares about nothing more than her health.
When Harry first served Y/N fruit for breakfast, along with her magnificent blueberry pie he begrudgingly loved, it was obvious that Y/N wasn’t entirely impressed. She still ate it all, and grabbed a slice of toast as well (very much encouraged by Harry) but it wasn’t her deliciously disgusting cereal that she so often tucked into. So, being the kind, caring man that he is, Harry decided to find a way to increase her enjoyment of a healthy breakfast.
He did so with cookie cutters. Because Y/N appreciates cute, thoughtful gestures that don’t necessarily change one’s life but look nice on the eye and make things feel pretty. So he buys stars, and hearts, and flowers, and spends his time pushing fruit through them and presenting them nicely in a bowl. Just for Y/N. 
And she loves it. Her eyes go all big, just the way Harry admires, her hands clasp and come up to her chest, and she responds as though he’s made some sort of grand gesture. He thinks she’s adorable, and watches her eat with a satisfied smile when she makes no complaint and bobs from side to side with such a sweet expression on her face.
That’s how he first gathers that something is off, because he knows she loves her breakfast now, so why is she suddenly refusing it? Why is she suddenly so insistent that she needs to have pain au chocolat or a fry up or something else just as equally soaked in oil or butter? Harry doesn’t give in, he doesn’t get angry. He tries to compromise with her in as calm a voice as ever, which he’ll admit he’s not used to having to do—because Y/N is never usually so argumentative.
Never so argumentative and never so absent whilst he was speaking to her. Like she’s trying to tune him out, or her thoughts are overpowering the sound of his voice. That frustrates Harry—feeling ignored, feeling unworthy of her attention—and he nearly snaps at her a few times for it. Somehow he maintains the patience and restraint not to, and is able to bring her back with a stroke of his knuckles over her skin. It feels wrong though, like they’re taking a step backwards, or like she is. Like she’s hiding herself away again. And he hates it.
But they still haven’t even had their first argument yet, though Harry feels it might be on the horizon.
It’s a cold, rainy day when that fact of their relationship changes.
The couple are at Y/N’s house for a change, huddled together on the sofa in a sweet exchange of kisses. Soft patterings against glass create the most wonderful ambience, like little fairies dancing on the keys of a piano, as the quiet smacking of lips fills in the gaps.
Harry’s arm, cloaked cosily in a thick, knitted jumper, rests around Y/N’s shoulder. Their heads are turned to the side in a way that suggests it was only meant to be one kiss—that inevitably turned into ten minutes of nothing else. Y/N’s fingers curl into the thigh of Harry’s joggers and his into the back of her hair as they sigh into each other’s mouths. Sweet balm is transferred to and fro, unable to identify who first applied the product.
When Y/N’s neck gets tired, she falls back to rest against the sofa; Harry follows in smooth motions, free hand coming to prop himself up on the other side of her body. He pulls away slightly, registering their reclining position and feeling his heart hammer at the sight of Y/N’s spit-slicked lips, plump from his own. She reaches behind his back to push him down onto her again, desperate pawing still remaining lethargic and unhurried.
He nestles her top lip in between his own two, nose squishing into the soft of her cheek. It comes out so blissfully, a harmless comment that turns sour—what he assumes is a hopeless display of how happy he is in this moment. Of how much he wishes he could stay like this for the rest of his life, as he whispers into her skin, “Y’should quit y’job.” Y/N doesn’t register it straightaway, too caught up in the heaven of Harry’s kiss—but when she does, her body stiffens.
He stops too, confused and suddenly worried he’s said something else. But she looks up at him with a nervous expression, like she has so much she wants to say but can’t possibly imagine articulating any of it. Despite having been somewhat out of it, Y/N remembers when he’d first asked her. In the shower, after changing her life on his sun lounger. She’d been able to play it off then, fuelled by dopamine and sleepy courage. But now… now it scares her. Now she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it.
Harry leans back further, eyes darting around her face as if to check for physical damage. “What’s wrong?” Almost as if controlled by a person, the rain hardens and thunder booms in the distance.
She jumps and shakes her head instinctively, despite her brain drowning in worry. “Nothing,” she whispers, hesitant hand scrunching into the front of his jumper to encourage him back. 
“Don’t do that.” He’s gentle, grasping her fingers and entwining them with his, but his rejection sears deep. “You clammed up, baby. Talk to me.”
Y/N’s skin itches. “I— When you—,” she exhales, “Do you mean that?”
“That you should quit your job?” She nods. “I do. I do mean it. Do you not like that idea?”
She wants to more than anything. “I—I can’t.”
Harry’s patient. “And why not, darling?”
Y/N thinks that would be her dream come true. After all, the first night she’d met Harry she inadvertently spewed how happy she’d be not to work, and Niall had so obviously proclaimed her displeasure. But how could she actually, genuinely stop working and not feel completely using of Harry? They aren’t living together, they aren’t in love—at least not from his perspective, surely—they aren’t even conventionally matched. Because certainly, someone like Harry; someone so important and beloved, deserved a person on his arm that was confident, and flashy, and impressive in their own right. Y/N can hear him telling her how ridiculous of a notion that is, as she thinks it. But anxiety isn’t always rational.
What falls from her mouth hardly hits the tip of the iceberg. “I— It’s— I’d feel bad.”
“You’d feel bad?” Harry asks. He’s trying to think about this from her perspective. Understands, maybe, the initial hesitancy. It’s a big thing, to stop working, to rely on someone else but… what they have feels secure, it feels good. He thought she’d love the idea. “I need you to explain it to me, Y/N.”
She panics just trying to order the words into some sort of acceptable speech. “No,” she shakes her head, “no, it’s fine. I’m sorry,” her heart drops when Harry sits back completely, removing all of his touch. “Please, I— I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We have to talk about this, darlin’. It’s not good to push stuff down.” Y/N doesn’t say anything. She sits there, gaze averted from Harry’s intense jade. When the silence tips over the edge of definitive, and Harry feels his grasp of the situation loosening, he sighs, “Okay,” and stands up. He leaves her alone on the sofa and takes himself stoically to her kitchen to stare out of the window at the bleak downpour soundtracking this moment.
“Harry?” He hears her call, confused and nervous. He thinks if she won’t talk to him then he’ll just remove himself altogether. What purpose does he serve being there if she can’t even look at him? “Harry?” Another call followed by quiet shuffling along floorboards. “Why are you ignoring me?” Her voice sounds sad—it makes his chest tight to know he’s the cause.
Harry takes a deep breath and turns around to take in her dejected appearance. She looks so much smaller when she’s upset. “I’m not going to have this lack of a conversation with you anymore. If you can’t talk to me then I will go home. You need time to think.” His tone of voice is hard—lacking in delicacy. It sounds meaner than he intends it to.
Y/N’s brain immediately goes haywire—she can almost feel her neural pathways shrivelling up, imploding, disappearing completely. He’s upset with her. Finally. It’s happened. She’s actually done it—he’s going to go home and never see her again. He’s going to block her number and return all her stupid clothes and disgusting shampoo in a box on her doorstep. What had first felt like an attempt to protect her heart in a sabotaging but worthwhile way (and save Harry from the stress in the process) doesn’t feel relieving in the slightest. It feels despicable.
“I’m sorry,” her lip quivers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Her lungs feel pea-sized, and her head feels thick. Tears blur her vision as she stands there in front of Harry like a little girl, crying over nothing. It’s made worse when he crouches down in front of her and encourages her knees to collapse around his body. He rubs her back soothingly, the warmth of his palms seeping through her cardigan, saying nothing but shushing gently into her hair.
After a while of Harry breathing deeply and slowly, and Y/N silently matching him, he speaks up. “I’m going to talk now. You don’t have to say anything, just listen t’me, okay?” She nods into his neck. The longer she can stay here, the longer she can avoid the humiliation of looking him in the eye after bursting into tears. “I think you should quit your job. I’ve known you loathed it since I met you—I encouraged you, in fact—that your want to stay at home isn’t silly. And not even a whole week ago you were telling me you hated it. You do so much for me, my love. Whilst still working. You bake wonderful treats, you clean everything despite me imploring that you do not have to. You breathe life into every room. You give me someone to come home to. And above all, you make me so, incomparably happy. Every single day. 
“What about me wanting to share my wealth with you makes you so uncomfortable? I just want to provide for you the way you provide for me. And quite frankly, I haven’t been strict enough. I shouldn’t encourage you to work all day and still try to take care of me, especially when you don’t take well enough care of yourself. But that’s my job, yeah? Why won’t you let me do my job?”
Y/N’s breath quivers, “Y-you still want to?” peeking out from Harry’s freshly soaked neck.
“Of course I d—” He pauses and his expression turns to sadness. “Oh, darlin’. You didn’t think… Just because of a little argument? This is the tamest argument I’ve ever had in my entire life, baby.” Her face burns. “It is so normal for couples to fight. I’m not going to do anything drastic, don’t be so silly.” He pushes his lips to her hairline, feigning calm despite his heart weighing heavily in his chest. “Now come on,” his thumbs swipe underneath her eyes, “talk to me, please.”
“It’s just—” her fingers pick at the skin around her nails. “I feel so guilty. Because I’m so needy a-and you do so much for me already. And money is… money is a big thing. I don’t want to be a—” she whispers it, “—a gold-digger.” Harry opens his mouth but Y/N continues, staring at her hands, “We don’t li—live together, we’ve known each for months, it—it feels too good to be true. I don’t know.”
“You’re worrying about societal standards, lovely. You’re not a gold-digger and time doesn’t have to mean a thing.” He kisses the space between her eyes. “Look, we’ve discussed it now. I’m so proud of you. We don’t have to do a single thing else, just think about it, okay?”
Y/N looks up at the man who she loves more than anything in the entire world and feels her lips twitch ever so slightly into a small smile. It’s not the most authentic of smiles she’s ever displayed. But she still means it. And suddenly she wishes to tell him—she wishes to but she won’t. Not today. She feels proud of herself because Harry does, decides she’s been vulnerable enough as she nods and squeezes her arms underneath his armpits. 
But this feeling of invincibility, the relief of having a cry and having someone there to soothe her—the adrenaline won’t last long—and maybe she should have confessed her feelings before the doubts returned.
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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months
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The Inheritance
Guys, I keep messing up the timeline. So here we go. Christian, Geri, and Mitch find out about Lorenzo and your parents disowning you at your last F2 race. Max finds out about Lorenzo in this chapter (although not written in detail). Max then finds out about your parents in chapter 18 “All For You.” 
This is proof that I listen to my readers :D @dreamy-state-of-mind asked to see how reader bought her cars and this chapter was created! I can't do every ask for an idea but I try to listen to what y'all want!
Y'all are being fed...two chapters in a row (which means the next one won't be out for a little bit - so I apologize!)
Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy!
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
Your hands were in your pockets as you walked around the open room. You had somehow lost Max, Vito, AND Christian. It wasn’t like you meant to walk away, you just did on accident. How could someone know that the foreign car dealership was this big. Well, you would know, but that’s beside the point. 
It was quite cold in Germany. Thankfully, you had packed extra layers, something the men seemed to not know how to do. You were sure that Max would have worn his Red Bull polo if you didn’t mention to Kelly where you were going. Sure, he could dress on his own, but who would want that? 
Your eyes gazed at all of the cars on the floor. Most were the common stock models. Audis, Mercedes, and even Volkswagens littered the area; yet, the cars you were looking for were nowhere to be found. You kept heading in the same direction, hoping to at least find a familiar someone who looked like they worked there. 
Your ears picked up on some German words. Feet taking faster steps, you rounded a corner. Ah, there they were. 
Somehow you completely missed seeing that the Porsches would be in a different room. You gingerly stepped farther into the vast open-ceiling room. Your hand itched to touch them, but you knew better. 
Looking at the cars brought back some great memories of the first time your godfather took you here. Yes, he could have gotten any Italian brand of car that he wanted. Everything was at his fingertips. Yet, he brought 11-year-old you to Germany to get his imported cars. 
Your eyes landed on a familiar model. If you thought hard enough, you could hear the imprints of Lorenzo’s and your laughs as he took you to do donuts in abandoned parking lots. 
“A beauty isn’t she,” a voice scared you, causing you to fall on your ass. Your cheeks burned at the thought of being caught. Yet, when your eyes met familiar friendly ones, the redness left. 
“Hi Seb,” you greeted as you took his outstretched hand that he offered. He pulled you to your feet and into a hug. After you were done, you pulled away to turn back to the car. This time, you let your hand gently grace the older door. 
“Enzo had one,” you simply stated, leaving it at that. Most knew you didn’t like to talk about the man, since it brough on so many emotional memories. 
Sebastian took a couple steps and stood next to you. 
“Do you still have the keys to the garage?”
You grinned up at the German ex-driver. “Of course I have the keys. You know he left me the entire house.” 
He bumped your shoulder, head jerking to lead you away from the car. You followed without hesitation. 
“What do you plan to do with it?” 
You cocked your head in thought. “I’m going to keep it for now. I don’t want to sell it. It’s not like I need the money anyway.” 
He chuckled. “I forget that you’re like a multi-millionaire at 20.” 
You just shrugged. “Not my fault that I was basically his only family. I never asked for it.” Your eyes dropped to the shiny floor below. A hand was placed on your shoulder. 
“I know. I’m glad that you’re well off. Makes me feel better about not seeing you as much.” A sad smile graced his face as he looked at you. 
You tried your best to give him a genuine one in return. “I’m doing much better than I was.” 
“Have you showed Max your vast array yet?” 
“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’. “I plan to soon, actually. I told him that I needed to go to Italy after this.” 
Seb raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything else. You went to talk, but familiar voices echoed in the big room. 
“Kid!” 
“Seb?” 
Your head whipped toward the sound. Ah, there they were. 
And they brought an assistant with them. 
Max and Christian looked at Seb in question as Vito brought the German into a big hug. You stood toward the side to watch the two friends reunite. The assistant took this opportunity to approach you. 
“Ah Miss L/n, so good to see you again!” 
“Again?” Max questioned, looking at you. 
The assistant turned to the Dutchman. “Yes. Miss L/n has been a patron at this establishment for years now.” He turned back to you. “I have the two models that you called ahead for. I will lead you to them.” 
The man turned on his heal and began to walk deeper into the room. 
Sebastian was now talking to Vito and Christian, which led to Max walking by you. 
“I didn’t know you’d been here before.” 
You looked up at him with a sly smile. “My godfather bought a lot of his cars from here and would take me with him. Some of the cars at the front are a part of his collection that I donated when he passed. He left me so many, I didn’t know what to do with them.” 
Max stopped in his tracks as you kept walking. Once he got over his shock, he sped up to catch you. 
“So many?”
You placed a hand on his shoulder. 
“Maxie, how much money do you think I have?” you asked, an innocent look on your face.
“Couple thousand?”
You shook your head. 
An eyebrow rose. “A couple hundred thousand?” 
Another shake as a mouth dropped. 
Max looked around before whispering, “Millions?” 
“Bingo. We’re going to tour my house when we go to Italy.” 
You kept on walking, leaving the even more confused Dutchman. 
“House?” 
A few steps more and you had caught up with the group of four men. Christian whistled at the sight of what lie before him. 
“Thank you Mr. Klein,” you shook the assistants hand as you looked at the two dark green cars in front of you. “Did the payment go through well?” 
The man nodded. “Yes it did. Mr. and Mrs. Fischer send their best regards and also thank you for the donation.” 
The four men (minus your manager) gawk at you. Yet, you were too busy beaming. 
“I’m so glad. Tell them that I will reach out the next time I’m here for longer. I want to see their children again, I miss them.” 
With a couple more goodbyes, weird stares, and going over plans to ship your Porsches to Monaco and England safely – you were on your way to Italy. 
Thankfully Sebastian wanted to join, saying something about how he hadn’t seen the house in forever. Which brought on more questioning looks from Max. 
However, Christian had to sadly say goodbye as he had a connecting flight to go somewhere else for business. You promised you’d send some pictures when you could. 
A chauffer had met you at the airport, names written in fancy calligraphy on a starch white piece of paper. 
The man gave you two cheek kisses as you greeted him. 
“Guido! Come stai amico mio?” (how are you my friend?) 
Max couldn’t wipe the look off his face as you began to talk to the older gentleman in perfect Italian. Vito only patted his shoulder. 
“You’ll get used to it. She’s definitely someone to unravel. You’ll get there.” 
The four of you then followed the man to the Rolls Royce that was waiting in the parking area. Suitcases were loaded in, and the three of you were on your way to your house. 
Or, more like mansion/estate/castle that Max found out as the car pulled closer. He turned to you. 
“Kid?” 
“Inheritance Max. Inheritance.” 
Your door was opened once the car was parked. Multiple people came out of the house, wanting to greet you. 
“La mia famiglia! Mi siete manvati tutti!” (My family! I’ve missed all of you!”) 
A couple of the staff took your bags as you walked through the giant doorway. Once you were through, you turned around and opened your arms. 
“Max, welcome to Casa di Lorenzo Alessandrino.” 
Max’s head was in a state of looking upwards as he walked in. He would have held his mouth open, but the interior seemed to demand respect as power and poise dripped from its walls. Now it was turn for Max’s hands to itch, wanting to touch everything.
Once everything was settled, you gave Max a tour as Vito and Seb went to go get some drinks. Your fingers twirled a special key ring as you led Max to your garage. 
You turned to him and gave a smile. “You ready?” 
Let’s just say, Max was not ready to see so many cars. Max let his jaw drop. 
The garage was deep and long, probably housing close to 40-ish cars. Your eyes glimmered as you looked at the older cars that you missed dearly. 
“You can go look you know,” you told Max as you made your way down the little staircase to the floor. Your heels clicked and echoed with each step. Max was quick to be on your tail. The Dutchman made his way quickly to each car, stopping for only a second before getting distracted by the next. 
You hummed as you looked at the empty spot among the Ferrari’s on the back wall. You pointed to it when Max came up beside you again. 
“The only car Lorenzo never had in his collection was the F40. I need to talk to Charles or Carlos about seeing how I can get one ethically. I want to complete the collection, but not pay far more than what it’s worth.” 
Max nodded, soaking in your words. He was about to say something, but a flash of orange caught his attention. His eyes sparkled as he looked at the spaceship looking car. 
“What kind of car is that?” 
You smirked as you gazed on your most prize possession. 
You walked closer and clicked the keys, making the car roar to life only for a second. (You don’t want to give you and Max monoxide poisoning.) 
Your hand ran over the orangey hues that covered the car.
“This is the Apollo Project Evolution.” 
Max looked down at the hyper car. 
“What that a V12?” 
“Yep. A Ferrari V12 to be exact. Three million dollars, one in ten made, over 700 horsepower, and completely street legal. I’d take you for a ride, but I would rather keep this between me and whoever knows about it.” 
You turned on your heel to start walking toward the door where you walked in. “I bought it because it reminded me of the spaceship from Guardians of the Galaxy.” 
Max snickered as he could imagine you at 14-years-old, watching that movie and falling in love with the space craft. Then, he imagined you last year, trying to find out how you could get your hands on it. 
He took one last glance at the big room, before following you back into the house. He softly shut the big door behind him. 
“Does Arthur know about this place?” he asked as he caught up to you, not wanting to get lost. 
You softly smiled at him. “Yes. I brought him here after Lorenzo passed away in 2020. I just didn’t want to be alone. Vito was here as well.” 
Max returned your sad smile. You and Vito had told him about the place on your way here. Tears were shed, hugs were given out, but you’d get through it. 
But then he suddenly pouted at the thought of you not bringing him here earlier. 
You tutted. “Don’t worry, Charles hasn’t been here if that’s what you’re pouting about.” 
That brought an instant grin to his face. You rolled your eyes at his childishness. Soon, you joined Vito and Sebastian in the kitchen. Aperol Spritzes lined the kitchen counter. Your hand reached one, before Vito was thrusting an different one into your hands. You pouted when you realized that yours was probably nonalcoholic.  
Sebastian snorted. “Let the kid have one.” 
“Vito, what do you think they do for podiums? Make sure mine isn’t actual champagne?” 
Vito rolled his eyes and handed you one from the kitchen counter. You quickly smiles and took a sip of the bubbly drink. 
“So kid, did you show Max the garage?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his own drink. 
You nodded as you placed your cup down. “Yep!” 
“And the track?” 
“You have a track!?” 
y/n.89 has posted
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y/n.89 glad to be back to my home away from home. Italia, quanto mi sei mancato. conserverai sempre ricordi preziosi e non posso ringraziarti abbastanza per amarmi da bambino. quando tornerò sarò sul podio, ne sono sicuro
(translation : italy how i've missed you. you will always hold precious memories and i can't thank you enough for loving me as a child. when i return, i'll be on the podium - i'm sure of it)
liked by sebastianvettel, vito_official, y/nlover, and 58,204 others
y/n's_fav who was going to tell me that our girl knows Italian?
y/n_updates she speaks it fluently! her godfather was Italian and taught her when she was growing up! y/n_on_top all I'm hearing is that her, Carlos, and Charles can now talk shit about Max if needed
charles_leclerc quindi Max non riesce a capire? (so max can't understand?)
y/n.89 no, quindi è ora di svelare i segreti dell'infanzia, Charlie (no, so spill the childhood secrets Charlie) carlossainz55 abbiamo molto da dire (we have a lot to tell) maxverstappen1 I CAN READ MY OWN NAME - I KNOW YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ME y/n.89 senti qualcosa? (do you hear something?)
vito_official così felice di essere a casa. possiamo restare ancora un po'? Guido e Luigi dicono che gli manchiamo troppo (so glad to be home. can we stay a bit longer? Guido and Luigi say they miss us too much)
y/n.89 mi mancheranno così tanto. torneremo presto! (i'll miss them so much. we'll be back soon!)
sebastianvettel glad to have been able to go with you! I'll see you soon kinder!
y/n_in_italy NOT HER HOUSEKEEPERS'S NAMES BEING GUIDO AND LUIGI
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TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19
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batboyblog · 2 years
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Senate 2022: You'd Better Vote!
If you're an American VERY IMPORTANT! elections are coming up on November 8th. Since the 2020 election the US Senate has been tied at 50 Democrats and 50 Republicans with Vice-President Harris casting the tie breaking vote that gives Democrats their majority. Even with such a tight margin Democrats have managed to pass the largest climate action taken by any country so far on earth (yet), lower prescription drug costs, pass the first gun control law since the 1990s , made lynching a federal crime after over 100 years of trying, made Juneteenth a federal holiday, confirmed the first black woman ever to serve on the Supreme Court, passed a trillion dollar infrastructure bill to rebuild our roads, bridges, transportation, better internet, clean water, and support electric cars, saved the US Post Office, passed a renewal of the Violence Against Women Act which had been in limbo since 2019.
Imagine all that the Democrats in the Senate could get done in the next 2 years with a stable majority? On the Flip side if Republicans net just one seat Mitch McConnell has made it clear there will be no progress if he's majority leader again. There are 35 Senate seats up on November 8th, I'm gonna list out the 9 seats with vulnerable Democrats who need re-electing and seats Democrats can flip to expand their majority. Everyone needs to vote, but voting is the start, the most basic thing you need to do, if you live in any of these states PLEASE sign up to volunteer for these candidates, to go talk to voters, to register new voters, to give rides to the polls etc. If you don't live in any of these states, you can still volunteer to make phone calls or text voters it's easy! if you have money to give please please give money campaigns are so expensive. Finally most of these campaigns have merch shops so if you feed more comfortable buying a shirt or a bag or whatever do that lots of them have cool pro-choice things.
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Arizona
Mark Kelly (Re-elect)
Senator Mark Kelly was elected in a special election in 2020 and is running for a full term this year. Kelly is a former astronaut and the husband of gun violence survivor and gun control advocate Gabby Giffords. Kelly is a strong supporter of gun control an issue he's worked on with Giffords as an activist for 10 years before Congress. Republicans have nominated Blake Masters, who worked for one of Trump's top supporters, Peter Thiel, Thiel spent 13 million dollars to get Masters nominated. Masters calls himself a "America First Conservative" and a "hard-core nationalist". Masters has embraced the racist "Great Replacement" conspiracy theory, supports Trump's conspiracy theories about the 2020 election being stolen, is against gay marriage, says gun violence is all the fault of black people, and is against aid to Ukraine. Kelly is a good democrat, Masters is a white nationalist and election denier, we need Kelly back in the Senate, and we need to keep Masters far far away
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP
Florida
Val Demings (Flip)
Congresswoman Val Demings has represented the city of Orlando in the US House since 2017. Before that she served as Orlando's first woman chief of police. In Congress Demings has used her law enforcement background to lend credibility to gun control and police reform. Demings also served as one of the impeachment managers in Trump's first impeachment trial. If elected Val Demings will be Florida's first woman and first black Senator. Demings is running to unseat Republican Senator Marco Rubio. After running against Trump in the 2016 primaries Rubio became one of Trump's biggest supporters in Congress. Rubio reacted to the Parkland shooting in his state by doubling down on opposing any gun control, Val Demings voted to ban assault rifles. Rubio has also been a cheerleader for Florida Governor Ron DeSantis' anti-LGBT/anti-Trans policies that bully queer students in Florida, he doesn't believe in the right to same sex marriage and is for banning books. Rubio also wants a total ban on abortion in all cases, Val Demings has a 100% rating from NARAL Pro-Choice America. Florida needs a strong supporter of Gun control, climate action, the right to choose, and LGBT rights in the Senate, Florida needs Demings not Rubio
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP
Georgia
Raphael Warnock (re-elect)
Senator Raphael Warnock was elected in a special election in 2020 and is running for a full 6 year term this year. Warnock is the first black senator from the State of Georgia and the first Democrat elected in 20 years. Before becoming a senator Warnock was the pastor of the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church, which was Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's church and a center of the 1960s civil rights movement. Warnock used his position to protest and fight against the death penalty, to expand medicare in Georgia, for gun control, and for voting rights. In the Senate, Senator Warnock has been one of the most outspoken on voting rights pushing the John Lewis Voting Rights Act named after his late friend Georgia Congressman John Lewis. Republicans for nominated former football player, and Trump super fan, Herschel Walker to try to unseat Senator Warnock. Walker vocally supported Trump's election lies, posting many times on social media that Biden did not win the 2020 election. Walker declared this week that climate action was "giving money to trees" and "don't we have enough trees?". Walker believes in a total ban on abortion, and is against LGBT rights. Walker is against gun control and floated the idea of the government monitoring all social media and internet usage by Americans instead of gun control. Walker beat his now ex-wife Cindy Grossman, and threatened her with a gun and knives multiple times, after the divorce Grossman feared Walker would kill her and her boyfriend. Walker also is a dead beat dad who has a number of children out of wedlock that he has no contact with, he has criticized black men many times for being absent fathers. The US Senate doesn't need a man who threatens to shoot women, re-elect Senator Warnock.
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP
Nevada
Catherine Cortez Masto (re-elect)
Senator Catherine Cortez Masto was narrowly elected in 2016 and his running for her second term in the Senate. Senator Cortez Masto is the first women elected to represent Nevada in the Senate and the first and to date ONLY Latina elected to the US Senate. When she was Nevada's attorney general Cortez Masto sued Bank of America for it's predatory lending practices and won nearly a billion dollars against the bank. As a US Senator Cortez Masto has been a major supporter of clean energy jobs and hopes to turn Nevada into the solar energy capital of America. Republicans have nominated former Nevada attorney general Adam Laxalt to try to unseat Cortez Masto. Laxalt spent his time as AG (2015-2019) suing the Obama Administration EPA to fight against strong climate regulations. Laxalt opposed a multi-state law suit against ExxonMobil for it's role in downplaying Climate change. Laxalt also sued the Obama administration to stop DACA, filed briefs supporting radical anti-abortion laws from Texas and Mississippi when they went to court, and sued the Obama Department of Labor to stop certain workers being paid over time. After leaving office Laxalt was the Chairman of Trump's 2020 re-election effort in Nevada. As Chairman Laxalt was the leading figure in the election conspiracy in Nevada claiming the election in his state was fraudulent and Biden hadn't really won Nevada. Laxalt has made many false claims of election fraud in Nevada in the 2020 election. Laxalt launched his 2022 campaign for Senate claiming "woke corporations" "academia" and "the radical left" have taken over America. Nevada has to send Cortez Masto, the only Latina in the Senate, back for another term, Laxalt is dangerously unfit.
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP
New Hampshire
Maggie Hassan (re-elect)
Senator Maggie Hassan was elected in the closest senate race of 2016 and is running for her second term in the senate. Senator Hassan was a key vote to save Obamacare from repel in 2017. During her time in the US Senate Senator Hassan has helped pass bills to more than double the funding to help treat the opioid crisis as well as banning surprise medical billing. Senator Hassan first ran for office 20 years ago as a way to advocate for her son who has Cerebral palsy, she's been a strong advocate for disability rights and special education through out her time in public service. Because New Hampshire has one of the latest primaries (September 13th) we don't know for sure which Republican will be nominated to face her in November. The front runner is a retired general named Don Bolduc. Bolduc's first foray into into politics was spinning and supporting 2020 election denial conspiracy theories, even after the January 6th riot. Bolduc has closely tied himself to Trump. Bolduc called fellow Republican, New Hampshire Governor Chris Sununu "Chinese Communist sympathizer" and accused him of "supports terrorism" for not being conservative enough and loyal to Trump enough. New Hampshire should send back a Senator who gets things done and not a wing-nut calling people in his own party communists and terrorists.
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE
North Carolina
Cheri Beasley (flip)
Former Chief Justice of the North Carolina Supreme Court Cheri Beasley is running to fill a Senate seat opened up by the retirement of Republican Senator Richard Burr. In 2008 Beasley became the first black women to win a state wide election in North Carolina when she was elected to the Court of Appeals. In 2012 she was appointed to the state Supreme Court and won election in 2014. She was appointed the Chief Justice in 2019 the first black woman to serve as the State's Chief Justice. Beasley lost by less than 500 votes her run for a full term as Chief Justice in 2020. In her time as a public defender and elected Judge and Justice Beasley has stressed fairness and equity. If elected she'd be the first black Senator from North Carolina. She's stressed health care and abortion rights as key issues of her campaign. Republicans have nominated Congressman Ted Budd to try to fill the seat. Congressman Budd is a member of the radical "House Freedom Caucus". He voted to repeal Obamacare in 2017. Budd was also a major support of Trump's attempt to over throw the result of the 2020 election. Congressman Budd voted against certifying the election result on January 6th, even after the capital had been stormed by violent Trump supporters. Budd is Trump's hand picked candidate for the North Carolina Senate seat, Budd only launched his campaign after meeting with Trump in Mar-a-Lago. North Carolina doesn't need an election denying Trump toady for Senator, send Cheri Beasley to Congress.
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP
Ohio
Tim Ryan (flip)
Congressman Tim Ryan is running to fill a Senate seat being opened up by the retirement of Republican Senator Rob Portman. Congressman Ryan has represented the Youngstown area of Ohio since 2003. In his time in Congress Ryan has been a champion of unions and American workers. His Senate run is focused on protecting American manufacturing jobs and bring well paying union jobs back to the American heart land. Ryan is strongly pro-choice. Republicans have nominated author and venture capitalist JD Vance. Vance is closely tied to Trump money man Peter Thiel as well as Arizona candidate and white nationalist Blake Masters. Vance has publicly said that women should stay in abusive marriages. Vance is against abortion in all cases even rape or health of the mother. Vance has also publicly stated he sees the populist, antisemitic, anti-LGBT dictatorship of Hungarian Prime Minster Viktor Orbán as a model for America. Vance talked about how he hopes in a second Trump term to purge all civil servants who don't agree with Trumpism and replace them with "our people". America does not need a pro-fascist who supports wife beating in the Senate, send Tim Ryan to the Senate instead.
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP
Pennsylvania
John Fetterman (flip)
Pennsylvania Lieutenant Governor John Fetterman is running to fill a seat opened by the retirement of Republican Senator Pat Toomey. First elected Lt Governor in 2018 Fetterman has used his platform to advocate the legalization of marijuana. Fetterman also is a vocal supporter of the LGBT community clashing with the Republican state legislature repeatedly about the display of a pride flag off the balcony of his official office at the state capital. Fetterman is running a campaign that is strongly pro-choice, supportive of criminal justice reform, and calls healthcare a human right. Republicans have nominated Mehmet Oz, better known as Dr. Oz. As a reality TV star "physician" Oz was criticized repeatedly for advocating fake cures and dangerous weight loss pills. During the Covid-19 pandemic Oz pushed Trump's favorite fake cure, Hydroxychloroquine, which is not a treatment for Covid. While running for the senate Oz has endorsed banning trans people from sports by law, and that trans youth are based on "false science". Oz is also says he'd vote to repeal Obamacare and strongly supports fracking. Pennsylvania doesn't need a flip flopping TV huckster from New Jersey as its Senator, election Fetterman.
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP
Wisconsin
Mandela Barnes (flip)
Wisconsin Lieutenant Governor Mandela Barnes is running to unseat Republican Senator Ron Johnson. Barnes served in the state legislature from 2013 till 2017 before being elected Lt Governor in 2018, he is the first black person to win state wide office in Wisconsin. As Lt Governor Barnes served as the chair of the Climate Task Force putting forward a 55 point plan to combat climate change. Barnes has been a vocal supporter of policies like Medicare for All, a Green New Deal, and marijuana legalization. If elected Barnes would be the first black Senator from Wisconsin and one of only two Senators in their 30s. Incumbent Republican Senator Ron Johnson has been Wisconsin's Senator since 2010 and is running for his 3rd term in office. In the Senate Johnson was one of Trump's strongest allies. Johnson was one of the main congressional pushers of the 2020 election conspiracy theories to the point his home town paper the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel called him a member of the "Sedition Caucus". Johnson also has pushed conspiracy theories that the January 6th riot was the fault of Nancy Pelosi or the FBI, and said he didn't think it was a big deal and felt safe during the attack because they were Trump supporters. Johnson has also pushed Covid misinformation, such as mouthwash as a treatment for Covid-19 or that "thousands" of deaths had been linked to the vaccine. Johnson has blamed mass shootings on a failure to teach "values" and is against gun control. in resent weeks Johnson has floated the idea of privatizing Social Security and Medicare. Protect Social Security, send Barnes to Congress.
VOTE VOLUNTEER DONATE SHOP
If you're one of the 85 million Americans who live in one of these States please PLEASE PLEASE remember to VOTE November 8th
Everyone remember to VOTE NOVEMBER 8th! vote in EVERY election from School Board on up to Governor and Senate, now more than ever all these elections matter and they matter a lot.
if you have $10, $5, even $1 to spare please please please think about giving it to one of these candidates, Democrats are passing big things and are running against the worst of the worst.
If you live in one of these states please please PLEASE think about giving just one weekend between now and Election Day to talk to voters and help turn out the vote. Even if you don't live in any of these states you can call or text voters in these states and help these campaigns
6K notes · View notes
watermelonsugacry · 8 months
Note
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Y/n applying lotion on his torso..!
It would be last minute..and he would run to her and be like
‘Be quick’
NO BC THIS IS THE DOMESTIC SHIT THAT GOES ON ALL THE TIME WHEN THEY'RE ON TOUR TOGETHER
Ever since the couple has arrived to their hotel room, YN has been bugging him about applying sunscreen to his torso. Especially now more than ever since he chooses to basically go topless on stage (she'll never complain about that) while playing in an outdoor venue in Barcelona.
The first time she brought it up was in their hotel bathroom. Harry, fresh out of the shower with nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, was busy untangling the necklaces around his neck when his wife comes into the room. She holds the bottle out to him with a suggestive tone and a raise of her brow.
He stands frozen for a second, eyeing the sunscreen with a contemplative hum before decidedly shaking his head.
"M'good, baby. Thank you."
She narrows her gaze at him, flickering her eyes from the bottle to her husband, before saying, "M'gonna bring it anyways."
YN turns on her heel but before she can fully leave the room, he reaches over and smacks the underside of her bum just to hear her squeak. He chuckles to himself when he sees her hand peek back into the room to show her middle finger at him.
The next time she brings up the sunscreen, is when he's doing a sound check later that day.
She watches from the sidelines, perched on top of an equipment box as she sits in on Harry and the Love Band rehearse before the show tonight. The yellow sunnies sitting on her face help block some of the glare from the bruiting sun reflecting from the massive stage. Everyone has the same idea along with shorts and some type of short sleeve top for their attire.
As much as YN loves to watch Harry in a white tank top, black Ray Bands, and a clip securing his curls on the top of his head, she wants nothing more than to sooth his tan skin with a protective layer of SPF.
While Harry talks some things over with Pauli and the horns ensemble, YN perks up when Sarah waves her over.
Harry's eyes flick over to his wife up on the platform with his drummer, helping apply lotion to the top of Sarah's back before going back to his conversation.
Soon enough, YN's offering sunscreen help to the rest of the band like a mom at a soccer game. Even Mitch rubs some over his arms while YN dollops a blob on his nose. Everyone happily accepts her offer...well, almost everyone.
When the band rehearses Grapejuice, Harry waltz up to where his wife sits as he sings, "There's never been someone else so perfect for me."
When she waggles the bottle in his face, he gives her a cheeky smile, playfully grabbing and tossing the bottle to the side. Before she can even get one word out in protest, he tugs her off her seat and pulls her in close as he sings.
She tries to pull away as he brings them to the middle of the stage, but his grip on her is strong.
His high notes go wobbly as he giggles, watching as YN gives up her efforts to escape. Eventually, she succumbs to his swaying and lopsided smile and slow dances with her husband for the rest of the song.
The last time she brings up the sunscreen is in his dressing room. And this time around, she doesn't ask.
Harry is already dressed for the stage and was busy tying his shoe laces when his wife's heels come into view. Not even a second later, so does that damn sunscreen bottle.
"Put it on."
"M'fine. I don't need it." Harry tries to reason. "It's gonna be night time when I'm performing out there anyways."
He holds back the temptation to smile at her stubborn look but he knows that'll only make her frustrated. But given that the cute pinch in her brow is already there, he guesses there's no point in trying to hide his smirk.
Plus, it's really hard to not already have a pleased expression at the sight of her in a silk blue dress that was only waiting to be taken off of her body by the end of the night.
"I don't care. Put on the fookin' lotion."
"No."
"Your chest has been red since the last show."
"You look beautiful."
"You're getting sunburned!"
"No m'not."
Before he can get another out, YN presses the pad of her index finger into the a spot by the one of the shallows tattooed on his chest and he hisses at the sting from his inflamed skin. He bats her hand away and notices how the yellow imprint from her finger slowly fades back to red. Despite the clear indication that she's right, he still doesn't say anything.
Even married, he can't let go of his pride to being wrong to his love. He's denied her of her help all day that it would only embarrass him and make him look bad if he gives in now.
Knowing this herself, YN tucks her lips in with a shrug. She places the bottle on the vanity and decides to leave the matter alone. She tried, and if he needs to have aloe vera be applied to his skin when it begins to peel, well, he could do that himself.
Despite how frustrated, irritated or upset the two might be at each other before a show, they're never ones of break their traditional pre-show ritual.
She cups his face and presses a short kiss to her husband's lips.
"Have fun out there. You're gonna do great. I love you."
His mouth opens to say something, anything, as she turns to walk out the room, but no words come out. Instead, he's left to finish getting ready with the icky feeling of guilt settling in and that damn bottle staring back at him.
Before the show starts, YN and her manager, Jenny, walk backstage to get to their designated spot in the pit for family and friends. She turns her head to the sound of feet hitting the pavement and a call of her name.
She furrows her brows when she sees Jeff and her husband running up to her, his cropped blue vest in hand instead of on his torso.
"What's wrong? Everything alright?" YN's voice is laced with concern given that he's supposed to be moments away from being on stage.
"Be quick." He pants out of breath. She's confused for a moment at what he could possibly mean. It's when she looks at what he's shoved in her hand that it finally clicks. She's quickly popping the cap off the bottle and squirting some lotion in the palm of her hand. After handing the sunscreen to her manager, she rubs her hands together before lathering up his torso, his abs, his chest--anywhere she can cover.
"Aw did you have to put on a little sunny-screen because your mummy told you to?" Jeff teases in a baby voice before breaking out in a laugh, only to receive a slap on the arm from Jenny.
YN doesn't even hit him back with a witty comment. Too smug, smiley and occupied with smoothing the lotion over her husband's broad shoulders and down his arms to care. So much so, that she doesn't even notice when Lloyd takes a few quick pictures of the couple before running off to take his place on stage.
She rubs the remaining bits of lotion over the apples of his cheeks, his t-zone, and his nose before taking hold of his face to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.
"Okay, yeh all set."
He shakes his head at the smugness written all over her beautiful features. It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone how he always folds for her in the end, no matter how strong headed both of them are.
"You're lucky I love you."
"Please, you're the lucky one."
"Damn right I am," He grins at her giggle as he pulls her back in for another kiss. Too enthroned and stupidly in love with this woman, he doesn't think twice about cupping her cheek with one hand while his arm circles around her waist, deepening what was supposed to be a short and sweet kiss.
"Um, H?" Jeff calls after a moment. "You got a show to do, remember?"
"Mhm, yeah." Harry mumbles out of the corner of his mouth to not completely break the kiss, fully enclosing himself around his wife while her arms go around his neck. "Be there in a sec."
Jenny's back is the the couple, her hands clasped together as she looks up at the ceiling to give them their privacy. She already knows that its best to just let them be than trying to break them apart; for Harry's shows anyway. But when it comes for her singer, she's hustling YN to be on stage, ready to perform, and on time.
Jeff on the other hand is looking down the empty hallway, anxiously looking at the watch on his wrist before scratching at his brow. He spares a glance at the two with a pained expression.
"You Love Birds need to go on a second honeymoon or some something, you horny fucks."
"Way ahead of you, Jeffery."
Harry give a lopsided grin at YN's words, pressing another smearing kiss to her lips. The two weeks they used for their honeymoon back in January was barely enough time for anything before having to go back on their respected world tours. With both of their show numbers decreasing by the week, the married couple plans to go MIA for a very long time: drinking wine at their private villa in Italy, walking along the shore at their getaway beach house in Malibu, tangled under the sheets in their bedroom in France.
From their spot backstage, they can hear the field full of fans begin to scream in excitement as the intro video plays. Desperate, Jeff turns to the wife for some complacency. "Mrs. Styles? Unless you want your husband to be out of a job in the next 60 seconds?"
YN pulls away with a smile, biting her lip as her husband looks down at her like he's one kiss away from canceling the show.
"Think of me when you're out there." She closes her eyes when he bumps their foreheads together, nearly melting when he rubs their noses together; a soft and loving gesture despite the dirty thoughts swimming in his head.
"Always." Harry answers easily, bringing her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the rock on her finger.
With a new sense of spunk and pump to be on stage, Harry throws a sly wink to his wife before maneuvering around her and walks towards the stage. YN's eyes linger on his back muscles as he lifts his arms in the air, looping them through the arm holes in his cropped vest.
His words are cheeky and light as he says over his shoulder, "You coming, Jeffery?"
.
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gucciwins · 1 year
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Can you please write one where harry and reader, who is apart of the love band, being together and they get married without the media and the fans finding out. So when he is introducing the band he introduces her as mrs. Styles and everyone freaks out?
a/n: hiii friends! it's been a while but I am here to share another story. originally this was supposed to be something short and sweet but here is 9k of a new story I hope you enjoy 💜💜💜
+
Harry had fallen in love with her from the moment he saw her though he can’t say the same for Y/N. He knew it was foolish to call it love when all he knew was her name. He fell in love with how she got lost on stage playing each song. It was something he wanted to never forget. When Jeff told Harry he was going to meet Y/N, he froze and almost decided to leave, but he knew he had to see her and hear her voice because if he didn’t, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
The reason Harry was here tonight at the Roxy was because he was forming his band. He was in the middle of writing an album, and Jeff thought she would be the perfect addition. Harry didn’t know then how meeting Y/N would change his life. Harry loved telling this story to anyone who asked how they first met. It’s one he’s said during the production of his first album endless times and during interviews. 
He walked up to Y/N, smiling, but it dropped when she turned around, and his eyes caught the grin she was giving him. Instead, he dropped her gaze to rest on her collarbones, where a delicate pearl necklace rested. Harry knew he was admiring her necklace, but to everyone else, it looked like he was admiring her chest. Harry only realized when Jeff nudged him. Y/N didn’t say a word, only told Harry it was great to meet him and looked forward to hearing his music. 
“There is no music yet,” he told her honestly. 
“What is there?” She asks, looking at him curiously. 
“Heart and soul,” he confesses. 
“Well, Harry. I look forward to joining you in the studio if that’s alright.”
Harry quickly nods his head. “Tomorrow if you’d like.” 
Y/N shares a look with Jeff, who only shrugs, “if that’s what you’d like.” She’s called away, and Harry knows he will be counting down the minutes until he sees her tomorrow. She leans close to him, and Harry relishes her sweet cherry smell. “Next time you want to stare at my boobs, maybe don’t make it so obvious.” 
Harry pulls away, shocked, at a loss for words, unable to defend himself. 
“See you, Harry.” She sends him a smile that makes him feel warm, and he tries his best to commit it to memory. 
Jeff claps his shoulders, unable to contain his laughter, “man, you’re down bad.”
“I’m in love,” he breathes out. 
“You’re insane. That’s what you are. No way Y/N will ever date you,” Jeff laughs, but Harry is determined. 
Harry shakes his head, “I’ll be sure to remember that at our wedding, where you will not be invited.” 
Safe to say, Harry had to work hard for her love, but he never regretted it. Not one single moment because it led him to be loved by her. 
+
After that studio session, Harry had no shame in asking Y/N to join his team as a writer and guitarist. She told him she’d think about it, and with the fear that her answer would be no, Harry got on his knees and begged her to say yes. She couldn’t even hold in her laugh. “Jeff thought you’d do something like this, but I assured him you’d be professional.” 
Harry laughs awkwardly on his knees, looking up at her. “Is that a yes?” 
Y/N shakes her head at Harry’s antics. “Yes, Styles. I’ll join this team.” Harry gets up and hugs her tightly. “With one request,” she voices. 
“Anything. Absolutely anything.” Harry promised. He would give her the moon or a million dollars if she wanted. 
“Sarah Jones. She has to be brought on as your drummer.” Y/N sighs then, “I don’t know if she’d say yes, but you’d be a fool not to ask.” 
And like that, Harry had three members in his band. 
Mitch would be hired a week later. 
From there, the four of them became the best of friends. While Harry was enraptured around Y/N, trying his best to spend time with her, he missed seeing the sparks fly around Sarah and Mitch. Harry was busy when they arrived from Jamaica, having no time for the band, which broke his heart. He loved seeing them and getting dinner with them but promoting a new album was no joke. 
His new friend Mitch was living in his old flat. Mitch quickly got on with Harry’s friends, but soon enough, even they did not see him. It was then he found out how Mitch was always getting dinner with Sarah, and Y/N would join occasionally. Harry knew he was more than welcome, but with the single releasing soon and tour rehearsal starting, he knew he’d seen her more than enough. 
They had been rehearsing for a few days when Y/N walked into the studio in tears. Harry quickly rushed over to her, leaving Jeff to speak to himself. He looked her over and found her unharmed, but he still took her in his arms, assuring her she was okay. Harry knew it was bad because she didn’t even push him away. 
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he kept repeating. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was more for him or her. 
Y/N pushed him away after a few minutes. Sarah was beside her, slipping her hand around her waist to support her. “My guitar was stolen,” she mutters. “I-I-I went for coffee in the shop down the street, and when I returned, my window was smashed. They only took the guitar, nothing else,” Y/N cries.
Harry feels his heartbreak for Y/N. During a restless night in Jamaica, she shared how it was her grandfather’s guitar. He gave her lessons from a young age, and her mother hated it because she always had a new cut or callous. It was a big part of her childhood, and when Y/N shared she wanted to pursue music as a career, her grandfather was the first to support her. He gifted her the guitar knowing she would produce magic with it, and he wasn’t wrong. Y/N created beautiful melodies for his first album with that guitar, the Fender J Bass American Deluxe. The one her grandfather, played on his wedding day. 
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he voices, knowing this heartbreak is not something he can heal. Harry immediately sends a message to all the crew and friends in the area to see if they spot her missing guitar or see someone with her guitar case. Harry tells the band they’ll meet tomorrow instead, and she is quick to disagree, stating she can play, but he promises her it’s okay. “Jeff was telling me about this meeting I have to attend.” 
Jeff nods, frowning at Y/N. The band gathers around Y/N, and they’re quick to have her laughing, promising to take her to lunch. 
“Y/N, your car? Is it okay?” Harry asks, knowing it can’t be safe to drive with broken glass. 
“Huh,” she turns to him, confused. “Oh, uh. I drove it here. The backseat is full of glass, and I didn’t even think of anything I needed to fix.”
Harry waves her off, “I know a guy. He can take it to the mechanic. I’ll make sure to have it dropped off at your flat.” 
“Harry, I couldn’t–” 
He cuts her off. “Please, it’s the least I can do.” Harry knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, but if he hadn’t scheduled a band practice, then her guitar wouldn’t have been in her car and therefore stolen. Sarah assures him she’ll get Y/N home. 
Y/N walks out with the band all crowding around her, and Harry knows she’s in safe hands. It doesn’t hurt that he wishes he was the one comforting her, but it’s true he has business to take care of. She just doesn’t know it’s all for her. 
After the hell of the day, she had Y/N went home and cried some more. It was well into the evening when she got a text from Harry that her car would be dropped off soon. She was thankful. He was kind enough to help her. She knows other bosses would be rude and awful, but not in this industry with Harry as her boss. She opens her door to find a young man with a key in one hand and a guitar case in the other. 
“That mine?” She points at it, confused. 
The young fellow shrugs, “you Y/N?” 
She nods silently. 
“Then it’s yours.”
Y/N takes it from him, bidding the man goodnight after checking her car was out front. She hurries inside, curious as to why they also sent a guitar. She opens it up and gasps. In the case is a yellow semi-hollow Epiphone Jack Casad. She told Harry this was a dream guitar she was saving up for during their first studio session. Her name is engraved on the top of the guitar in beautiful handwriting. Y/N is careful to pick it up and is mesmerized by how nice it is. To no surprise, it’s a perfect fit in her hands, as if it was made for he
Y/N
I know there is no replacing the guitar you lost, but I was having this one made for you as a thank you for creating this album with me. I couldn’t have done it without you. Hope we can continue to create music together, and if not, because you’re too talented to stick around with someone like me, I hope you take this gift as an appreciation for my love for you. 
Love, H 
Harry was thinking about her because she knows a guitar takes months to make. Y/N appreciated it more than he knew. Y/N would spend the night playing with the guitar until it felt like hers. When she showed up the next day with the guitar, no one dared to say a word, but between the looks Y/N and Harry shared, they all knew. 
That note would be the first sign that Y/N picked up on that maybe, just maybe, Harry liked her as more than a friend. 
+
The album was well received, and Harry was over the moon. The first shows were nerve-wracking, but having Y/N there calmed him. She gave him pep talks assuring him that the fans would love him, and love him they did. They screamed his songs back to him, and it was easy to get lost in the feeling of being on stage. Before he knew it, they were taking off on a sold-out tour across Europe and North America. 
He had started writing his second album with the help of the team and Y/N. She brought a beautiful melody, and it’s how the start of “Sunflower” kicked off the first song on the track though it would undergo various changes. He loved being in the studio with Y/N because she brought these ideas and perspectives he had never thought of. She was the heart of the album. Touring and writing with Y/N was a dream come true. 
Harry was having the time of his life, but Y/N still paid him no mind. She acted as if there was nothing between them, like there was no spark, which drove him crazy. Harry watched as Mitch and Sarah fell in love, and he wanted that. He craved it with Y/N, with only her. The fact that he couldn’t have her weighed heavy on him, and it got worse when he heard rumors of Y/N going on dates. It broke him because he loved her, and she only saw him as a friend.  They spent every free moment together, so the fact that she didn’t share she was seeing someone hurt because, at the end of the day, he wanted to see her happy. 
He wasn’t proud of what he did next.
There was woman after woman he brought to the show. Harry didn’t know what Y/N thought, but he slowly began to pull away, needing to get lost in someone else; even if it was for an hour, Y/N could consume his thoughts for the other 23 hours. Harry wanted her to want him, to miss him, so he began bailing on lunch with her, not including her in conversations. He thought she didn’t care because she had no response. She treated him the same with a friendly smile and easy conversation. 
Harry didn’t notice the change in her because he was too focused on the new person he was bringing around. If he got his head out of his ass, he would have seen every sad look Y/N shot his way. Or how Sarah urged her to talk to him, but Y/N would walk away. He didn’t see that she was slowly pushing away from not only him but the band. That she thought her days were numbered. 
It wasn’t until she fell sick that Jeff told her that her backup would be able to cover for her for however long she needed. That was all the confirmation she needed to know Harry was replacing her. It broke her, but it was his band, after all. 
Harry was ready to perform, huddled in the circle with the band, when he looked across from him to find unfamiliar eyes. He looked around but saw every member of his band except for her. His heart rate increased, and Harry knew he had lost her. 
Sarah met his gaze and took pity on him, “she’s sick.” 
At that moment, Harry wanted to cancel the show and run to her side, ensuring she was alright, but he couldn’t. He was sure it was the worst show of his life, but he didn’t have time for Jeff or anyone to give him shit for it. When he was off the stage, he drove to their hotel and pounded on her hotel room door. Then suddenly stopped when he realized that wouldn’t help her.
The door creaked open, and there was Y/N with a red nose and sleepy eyes. 
“Hi, petal,” he greets softly, knowing he has to tread carefully. 
She rubbed her eyes as if trying to see if he was actually there. “Harry?” 
“It’s me. Can I come in?” 
Y/N doesn’t respond. She steps back, opening the door wider. She locks it behind him and crawls back into bed. She tells him to stay away because he has a show tomorrow, and he knows she’s right, but he doesn’t care. He sits at the foot of her bed. 
“How are you feeling?” 
Y/N rolls her eyes, “I’ve been better.” 
Harry hates this lingering tension. “Sorry, you felt you couldn’t tell me.” 
She shrugs, “Jeff didn’t want to get you sick.” 
“You’ve never gone through, Jeff before,” he reminds her. 
“That was before,” Y/N muttered.
Harry sulks, letting his shoulders drop in frustration. “What you goin’ on about?” 
“The fact that I’m getting sacked,” she tells him, never one to beat around the bush.
“Sorry,” he can’t believe what she is saying. “I would never.”
She scoffs, clearly not believing him. “Don’t have to lie to me. Very convenient that your friend is my replacement tonight. We clearly know I’m replaceable.” 
“Don’t you dare say that,” his voice firm. He had never seen her as replaceable. His heart breaks thinking about doing a tour without her. “You created this band. I wouldn’t be having the time of my life on stage if you weren’t there next to me. You’re my best friend.” 
Y/N has turned away from him, and as much as he hates it, he respects her enough to let her be. “Some way to show it,” she murmurs. 
Harry hates that her voice is so weak and timid around him. She’s never once taken his shit, but here he is on the verge of losing her.  “I-I,” he sighs. “I’ve fucked up badly.” 
“I get that you’re dating and such, but when you start acting like a dick and treating others like they’re beneath you, that’s when you know you’ve lost against the industry.” He lets her words sink in. “I feel like I’ve lost you.”
A direct hit to the heart.
“You did nothing wrong,” Harry assures her. Y/N motions for him to explain. “I was going through shit and felt selfish going to you for help. You’ve seen me through a lot, and I didn’t want to add more,” he lies. Harry is full of lies, but he can’t tell her he loves her. Not like this. “It was easier to get lost around others that don’t care about me.” 
Y/N turns to look at him. Her tired eyes are locked with his, and he knows she’s trying to read him. That he’s an open book for her, he always has been. She won’t find anything at this moment because he knows he has to bury his love for her deep inside if he wants to keep her. 
“Y/N, I’m sorry for icing you out. I’m sorry for not showing you I care. You’re always my number one since the moment you entered my life. I would never dream of kicking you out of your band. I will understand if you want to leave but know you will always have a spot here with me. 
“Well fuck you first,” she tells him outright. “I’m not going anywhere. I just needed you to get your head out of your ass. Though if you ditch me for a groupie, I’ll cut off your dick.” 
Harry shakes his head, not surprised at all by her words. This is his girl. 
“Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favorite girl.” 
Those words settle deep in Y/N’s heart. When Harry pulled away from her, Y/N swore she felt a crack in her heart because it was sinking in that she was losing him, but she didn’t understand why it hurt so much to be replaced. 
It wasn’t until later that night after she kicked him out of her room to stay away until she felt better she received a basket of her favorite teas and snacks from home. Even a few books she had been eyeing but had not had the time to buy. It’s when Y/N began to realize that she was in love with him. Though she had no idea how he could feel, she did the only thing she could do. She packed those feelings in a box and moved on.
+
Real World Studio was a dream to work at, and it was even better because he had his friends with him. Harry usually could not keep his eyes off Y/N, but tonight he wished she was anywhere but here. After seeing her on a date last night, he was fuming, and he knew it was dumb to ignore her. It was impossible in the studio. Y/N had her guitar in her lap, and it was this beautiful melody someone could get lost in. Except, he wouldn’t take the time to give it a full listen. 
“H, just give it a listen,” she pleads, knowing her song's potential. 
Harry exhales, “nothing special, it doesn’t fit.” 
Y/N feels her anger rise at his dismissal but decides better than to argue with him. She goes to the corner of the room, dropping her guitar, not wanting the memory of Harry for the moment, and picks up Mitch’s spare. She doesn’t notice when Mitch sits next to her. Too lost in her head, cursing Harry out. 
“Y/N,” she looks up at him. “It’s good.” Having heard the song a few times, Mitch now plays it on his guitar, and Y/N can’t help the smile that takes over her face. Mitch’s talent is undeniable. 
Harry perks up, calling out Mitch’s name to play that song again. “Come on, Mitch, again.” 
Mitch grimaces, “H, it’s—”
“Again,” Harry requests.
Mitch does as he asks but only gets a few notes in when Y/N stomps over to him. She pushes him hard, causing him to stumble. The entire room falls silent. Harry feigns confusion, not knowing what he did wrong.
“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch,” she spits angrily. Y/N walks out of the studio with her head held, and Harry deflates, knowing he went too far. 
“Man, what’s up with you? That’s—you have never treated any of us like that,” Sammy tells him, confused. 
Harry throws his notebook across the room in frustration, “Y/N has a fucking boyfriend and hasn’t told me. Saw her having dinner last night.” 
Mitch scoffs, “so that gives you permission to be a dick.” 
Sammy laughs, Harry whips his head to look at him and is about to tell him to shut up when Sammy drops a bomb on him. “I went to dinner with her last night.” Harry feels his anger bubble. “I have this friend that wants to work with her.”
Harry backs down, shoulders slumping, “I’m a dick,” he agrees. 
“Think you should go find her,” 
“And say what?” He looks at them for answers. 
“Sorry, is a good start,” Tyler offers. 
Mitch shakes his head, “he can never admit he’s sorry or that he’s the jealous type.” 
Harry walks out knowing they aren’t any help but knows he does have to apologize. Y/N doesn’t deserve how he treated her. The good thing Y/N didn’t go far; she’s sitting on the hood of her car staring at the night sky. 
“Y/N,” he calls out to not startle her. 
“Thought you’d come out sooner,” she sasses. 
He exhales, “The boys were chewing me out.” 
“Hmm…” 
Harry stands before her, and regret is written all over his face. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I was an asshole for my own stupid reasons.” 
“Okay,” she mutters.
He takes a step closer, his hands resting on her thighs. “I’m just a jealous son of a bitch and took it out on you. I’m sorry, you’re my favorite person, and that’s no excuse for treating you this way.” 
She smirked, hearing him repeat her earlier words she screamed in the heat of her anger. “I put up with a lot of your crap.” 
“And I’m grateful,” he promises her. 
“Maybe too much,” she teases. 
Harry knows she’s right. “Then don’t anymore.” 
“Fine.” 
“Fine,” he repeats. 
“Leave then,” she waves him off, and something inside him snaps. Her words don’t hold malice, and he’s not leaving without her. They both know that. 
He steps between her legs, not giving her any room to escape him. Y/N looks at him with wide eyes, uncertain of his next move. Harry pushes a few strands of her hair back. His eyes fall down to her lips and then move back up. Before he can convince himself otherwise, Harry leans in, pressing his lips against Y/N’s. He feels her tense up, but she melts into him within the next few seconds. He leads the kiss in a steady rhythm allowing himself to get to know what she likes. It feels like coming home, and he wonders how he went so long without tasting her. He knows one will never be enough; he wants more. Harry wants all her kisses. 
Y/N pulls away breathless, one look at her face, and Harry knows she’s panicking. It’s settling in quick, but Harry has always been able to calm her, a special trick he’s learned for years of knowing her. His take will be slightly different tonight.
“Y/N I l–” Y/N stops him. 
“Please,” she pleads. Begging him not to say it. Harry sighs, taking a step back.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promises. 
Harry walks her back to the hotel for the night with the promise of breakfast together. He hopes breakfast happens, but part of him knows it won’t happen. The following day he was informed she had checked out. All that was left was a note saying she was sorry and that she would call him soon. That same night he was on a flight to Japan. 
After all, there’s an album to finish. 
+
Two weeks in Japan weren’t enough to heal his heartbreak, but it was the perfect place to meet friends, try good food, and write new songs. He had written five new ones, and though he knew some might not make it to the album now, maybe they would for the next one. 
His birthday had come along, and he spent it alone reading in a cafe. Harry got endless texts from his family wishing him a happy day, but there was one person he hoped would call. Except that she didn’t. Everyone told him to move on, but he wanted to grieve this love because Y/N wasn’t just anybody to him. She was the one. He’s willing to fight for her because he knows what it’s like to live without her and hates it. Harry misses her, but he’s also hurt. 
It was early morning when there was a loud knock on his door. He stumbled out of bed in no rush to open his door. After a surprise party last night, he allowed himself to have one too many shots and now is paying the price for it. Y/N always reminded him to have some water and a Tylenol before bed on nights they went drinking.
Harry swung his door open, expecting to see Tom or Tyler but standing in front of him was Y/N. A timid smile was on her face, a large duffel hanging off her shoulder and a gift bag in her hand. 
“Hi, Harry,” she broke the silence after a few seconds (minutes, he couldn’t be sure.) “I-I’m sorry to show up announced. Uh–Gems convinced me it would be a good idea.” 
He has no idea why he’s here, and he can’t even ask her why she’s here because it seems he has lost the ability to speak. He never imagined her coming to Japan for him.
“I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for stopping you from saying something you probably have held in for a long time.” She pauses, looking around her, nervous someone could overhear her. That’s when Harry realizes they’re standing at his doorway.
Wordlessly he moves aside to let her in. Harry locks the door behind her as she drops her bag and presents by the door. Y/N takes her time slipping off her shoes. He can spot her hands shaking but doesn’t dare comment on it. 
“Harry,” she says his name with so much love it gives him a glimmer of hope. “I love you,” she shouts. 
Harry was not prepared for her confession. He wasn’t prepared for her. “And I think you love me?” She questions. 
Harry doesn’t answer. 
Y/N looks around the room nervously. This is not how she pictured the moment on the flight here. Sure, she wasn’t expecting the warmest greeting, but she also didn’t expect silence. Y/N was not sure how to go from here. Before she can begin to think about how bad of an idea this is, Harry takes a step forward; she doesn’t dare move away. He stops until there is no space between them. 
There are two things he could tell her: one would make her the happiest person alive, and the other has the possibility of breaking her. Except, there’s a third option she wasn’t thinking about because Harry was never good with his words. He always thought actions speak louder than words, so he leaned in and kissed her. This kiss was soft and full of love, nothing like their first kiss. Harry was gentle with her, like if he was rougher, she’d break or disappear. Y/N lets herself fall into Harry as he explores her mouth, their mouths moving in perfect unison until he breaks away, giving her a chance to catch her breath. Even then, he doesn’t move far away; he kisses every inch of her face until Y/N breaks into a fit of laughter due to the brush of his stubble on her skin, something he was letting grow during his time here. 
“I love you,” Harry tells her. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, but it doesn’t feel like the first time, not when he’s loved her for years. “I have loved you from the very first day.” 
Y/N slaps his shoulder playfully, “shut up, Harry.” She doesn’t believe him. Why would she? Y/N was a stranger, but the first time he saw her, Harry felt like he had arrived home. He was united with someone who had been missing from him all his life. 
“Will never shut up,” Harry promises. “Not when I get to tell you I love you every day, every hour, every minute.” 
“I’m sorry for the wait,” she holds his face in her hands, taking in his beautiful green eyes staring at her with so much love that she feels she might explode.
“You will always be worth the wait. Always, Y/N.”
+
December 13th had finally arrived. 
“Are you really doing this?” Harry asks nervously on the chair next to her. 
Y/N rolled her eyes, “I told you I would.” 
“Tattoos are forever,” he reminds her. 
Mateo, her tattoo artist, places the stencil on her ribs as Harry checks in for the tenth time to see if she really wants to be tattooed. “The cherries on my ass are a good reminder I know what I’m doing.”
Harry sinks back in his chair, defeated. “It’s just this is permanent. These are my lyrics going into your skin forever.” 
“Oi, give me some credit, would you? Worked on these songs with you. This one is special. I want it with me forever,” Y/N vows.
Today, his second album Fine Line was released for the world to hear. Every time he released music, he gave a bit of himself away from Lights up to Cherry; these were his stories on love, identity, and heartbreak.  Harry knows he didn’t do it alone, but his fans don’t care for the process; they want the stories and meanings of each song. He won’t give them that, not now, not ever. Y/N, his guitar player and now also his girlfriend, was getting a tattoo in honor of the second album they have written together being released. 
“I thought you’d get a sunflower tattooed or even a watermelon,” he smirks at the last suggestion. 
Y/N scoffs, “you dirty-minded lover.” 
“You love it,” he tells her.
She does. She really does. “Doesn’t matter. I love you. I want to know that no matter what, we’ll be alright. I would go through hell and back for you, so what better way than to get those words that mean so much to me.” 
Harry knows there’s no chance she’s leaving without the tattoo, so he relents letting Mateo begin. “I love you.” And that’s enough for now. It seems he will have to get a new tattoo for her seeing as she’d have his handwriting etched in her skin forever. 
He was going crazy and set to go on stage in twenty minutes, yet no one could find Y/N. Harry had called her again and again, yet no answer. He knew she hadn’t left the venue, but somehow everyone on staff could not find her. It wasn’t until he found Y/N in a small green room sitting with his special guest of the night, Stevie Nicks. They were lost in conversation and didn’t even hear him come in. 
“Y/N,” he breathed out, relieved. He shoots a text to Jeff that he found her. 
Y/N grins up at him, and simple as that, all his worry evaporates. “Hi, pretty.” 
To no surprise, Harry’s face heats up at the compliment. “Poppet went crazy searching for you.”
Stevie stands up, “oh, that’s my fault. I just had to steal her away. It’s been some time since we’ve been able to catch up. Nice to know you took my advice.” 
“Actually, Stevie–” Y/N begins, but Harry interrupts her. 
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We’ve got to get Y/N ready to stage soon.” Harry pushes her towards the door. 
Y/N makes a show of rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically. “Bye, Stevie, always an honor.” 
Harry promises Stevie to see her soon, all while Y/N mutters how she can’t believe he embarrassed her in front of Stevie Nicks. He knows she’s joking but never makes anything easy for him. 
“Hey, Y/N?”
“Hmm…”
“I love you,” and like magic, she melts into him, allowing him to take her towards his dressing room as he grabs her in-ears and prepares her to head out on stage. 
“Love you, Harry. Proud of you. It’s your big day.” She’s been telling him all week, from listening parties to the Spotify event to last night at 9pm when the album dropped on the West Coast to this very moment. 
“Our, our special day,” he reminds her.
Y/N waves him off, “your album. I’m just the guitar player.”
Harry won’t have that. He approaches Y/N, gently lifting her face to look at him. She’s staring at him with those glimmering eyes full of love. “You’re the muse of this album, but you’re also the co-writer. You play a killer solo in She that Mitch is begging for you to let him play. This album is ours, but it is also entirely yours. I am entirely yours.” 
Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. “Ours,” she repeats. 
It ends up being a perfect night. A show they’ll go on to share with friends, family, and future generations for years to come. 
+
Gearing up for tour after a successful album had everyone buzzing, except everything came to a halt because of a pandemic affecting the entire world. Everyone was taking the needed precautions to keep the safety of others in mind. Harry and Y/N decided to stay with Mitch and Sarah because it was better to be with others during this challenging time.
As awful as everything was in the world, Harry was grateful for the time to flourish his relationship with Y/N. 
It gave them a chance to fall more in love with each other. He learned all her childhood stories, and she learned that he was an early riser and liked his coffee dark. They used this time to write an album full of love, longing, and heartbreak. It was their love story in the strangest of ways. He knew the album might not be well received, but he loved it. Most importantly, Y/N loved it, and that’s all that mattered. 
They stayed in California with friends for nearly a year until it was safe to fly home. It was then that they knew they would have to split a way to stay with family. Harry was not ready to let her go, not when he had her for all this time. Instead, he followed along to where she called home. Her baby sister was overjoyed to have Y/N home. Lila got to show Y/N all the knitting supplies she had gotten. Even all the plushies she made Y/N because they reminded Lila of her. (The bunny was his favorite, he got to keep it because he asked nicely.) Harry would never forget meeting Lila for the first time, seven years old, and worshiping the ground Y/N walked on. He understood the feeling very well. Y/N had brought her along for a rehearsal and, by the end of the day, had a meltdown because Harry mentioned them leaving for months. Lila begged Y/N not to go, to quit saying that she’d be able to take care of her if she stayed. Harry saw Y/N’s heartbreak and was tempted to step in, but he knew it wasn’t his place. 
“I hate you,” the young girl whispered when Y/N rushed off to get tissues. His heart broke knowing he was the reason she was hurting so much. “Fire her, fire my sister,” she pleaded.
Y/N returned with sympathy in her eyes, and Harry knew nothing he could say would make her feel better. “Poppet, you know those are harsh words. We don’t say them unless we mean them.”
“I do. I mean it,” Lila sniffled.
Y/N shook her head, wiping her younger sister’s tears away. “No, you don’t. You know how I know?” Lila shook her head. “Because you’ve got the biggest heart in the entire world. I know there is no way you can hold any darkness in there.” 
Lila wraps her arms around Y/N’s neck, and Harry knows he should leave and give them space, but he’s in awe at how well Y/N is validating her sister’s feelings. There’s no telling her to stop crying, only trying to make her understand. 
“I’m leaving, poppet. It’s my dream,” Y/N whispered. “I told you stories about being on stage that it’s my second favorite thing to do.” 
“First is painting with me?” Lila questions.
Y/N laughs, “you know it.” 
“Okay,” Lila hides her face in Y/N’s neck. “I love you.” 
Y/N kissed her sister’s cheek. “I love you too.” They squeeze each other tight, relishing in being together. “Now I think you owe someone an apology.” 
Lila sighed but did as Y/N requested. She walked towards Harry with Y/N standing behind her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Styles. You have to promise to care for her. She loves tea in the morning with lemon poppy muffins.” Lila shares making Harry and Y/N laugh. He keeps a mental note to make sure it’s always available for her during tours and meetings.
Harry kneels down to be at Lila’s level, knowing it will make them at an even level. “I promise to look after her. If you ever need her home, all you have to do is call, and I’ll have her on the first flight back to you.” 
Lila's eyes widen in surprise, “you can do that?” 
“I’m the boss,” he whispers. 
Y/N rolls her eyes at him, but mouths thank you. 
Harry kept true to his word, there was only one time when Lila called, and that’s all Y/N needed to say for him to assure her that it was okay to go. He went as far as buying her a first-class plane ticket. Lila fell, broke her arm, and needed her sister home. She was gone for five days, the longest days of his life, but when she returned, Y/N gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. It’s something he will never forget. 
Now at twelve years old, Lila “tolerated” Harry. Y/N told him Lila was joking, but a part of him knew it was true he had taken her favorite person away. Harry knew he’d be heartbroken having Y/N leave him and hated that he made Lila experience that time and time again. 
“You break her heart, Harry, and I break you,” she threatened with her fist in the air.
“Woah, there, Rambo. No need to defend my honor,” Y/N giggled. “Just because you’re doing kickboxing classes doesn’t mean you need to go punching anyone.” 
“I will if he makes you cry,” Lila tells her while keeping her eyes on Harry.
He found this amazing because Harry was the younger sibling. He knew what it was like wanting to defend his older sister, not that she ever let him. He knew Gemma didn’t need protecting. “If anyone will do any crying, it’s Harry,” Y/N tells her sister. Y/N winks at him before turning her attention back to Lila. “He cries at The Lion King.”
“He does?” Lila says in disbelief. 
Harry scoffs playfully, “that was a secret.” 
Lila steps forward and taps his hand twice in what he assumes is her way of showing sympathy. “There, there. I understand. Scar is the worst villain. Let’s watch it now.” 
She pulls him away as Y/N mouths for him to remember to cry. Harry knew Y/N wanted her favorite people to get along, and if he had to cry during Mufasa’s death to get on a young girl’s good side, then so be it. Harry knows he would do anything for Y/N.
After a few months with Y/N’s family, they traveled to his family. When his mum saw him, she burst into tears and did not let him go for over ten minutes. Y/N got reacquainted with the cats then it was her turn for a long cuddle. His mother was in good hands, but returning home always made him realize how much he has missed. 
“Gems has gotten into a puzzle,” Anne shares as she serves them.
Harry laughs, “not surprised.” 
“H got really good at poker,” Y/N chimes in.” 
“And you miss paint by number,” he teases. 
Anne smiled fondly, seeing them tease each other as she took in the love clearly displayed on his face. “I can’t believe you’ve filmed movies.” 
Y/N rolls her eyes, “oh, Anne, he’s such a drama queen. Oh, that’s not what I ordered. It was a green smoothie, not pink,” Y/N mimics his accent awfully, making Anne burst out laughing. 
“Mum, you’re supposed to be on my side.” 
Anne shrugs, “she’s always been my favorite.” 
Y/N sticks her tongue at him, happy to return to conversing with Anne. Harry knew his mum was right; she had always been his favorite too.
+
With filming complete and the world a bit safer. It was time to get back on the road. Harry had a completed album that he was not ready to share yet. He wanted to enjoy singing songs from Fine Line before adding more to his setlist. Prepping for this tour, there were many new changes. For one, he hired Pauli Lovegood as his musical director, and the band had never sounded better. 
Harry was not surprised to see how well Pauli and Y/N got on. They were two people who instantly clicked when first meeting. Harry had many conversations with Pauli about the band and the chemistry and trust he liked to have on stage. Pauli stated that Y/N was the heart of the band and didn’t even realize it. Harry knew every time he got on stage because she kept him calm and safe each night. Sure, everyone raved about Sarah calling it Sarah’s band, and he didn’t doubt it for a second, but there was a special energy Y/N brought that no one was able to replicate. 
“Y/N goes out on stage every night like it might be her last,” Pauli shared after a rehearsal. They just didn’t realize Y/N was behind him listening.
“Is that a bad thing?” Y/N asks.
Pauli shakes their head. “Not at all. It makes your performance special.” He points back to the stage. “Because that was sound check. You played as if the crowd was already here.”
Y/N ducks her head, flustered, not realizing that Pauli was complimenting her. 
“Does that mean he won't ever fire me?” Y/N laughs, knowing it’s a dumb question.
Harry swings his hand over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “I’d be an idiot to let you go. You know the only reason you’ll leave this job is if you decide that.” 
His words are true. Y/N has had many opportunities and offers to join another band or become a songwriter working with different artists, but it’s not what she wants.
During the tour, Y/N and Harry celebrate two years of dating. It’s a significant milestone for both of them because they had always had a slight fear of commitment, but together forever doesn’t seem long enough. It’s a cold day in November for Los Angeles, but Y/N doesn’t seem to mind since she dragged Harry to Malibu beach with her. 
They held hands as they walked down the shore, seagulls flying high and the beach vacant. No one is brave enough to visit the ocean during this cold season. Y/N had told him that water calms her; it reminds her there is so much more to life, and though she might never have the chance to learn about it, the world keeps turning.
“We’re almost going home,” Harry comments.
Home is London, in her small flat, while Harry goes to his large mansion. There are small details they have to work through, seeing as during this entire tour, they have never slept apart, even when Harry manages to push her buttons. 
“I’m excited to see Lila,” Y/N tells Harry. She talked to her sister as much as possible, but time zones made it difficult. “She’s grown two more inches, mum said.” 
Harry kisses her temple, there is so much they sacrifice for the life they live, but he wouldn’t change it for the world because it led him to Y/N. 
“Soon, you’ll see her soon,” he promises. Little does she know that in a few days, time in New York, Y/N will be hugging her sister, and Harry will happily share her because nothing makes him happier than seeing her happy. “I love you, Y/N.” 
Y/N nudges his shoulder playfully, “alright, you sap. I love you too. Come on, I'm getting hungry.” 
Harry stops walking. She doesn't notice until he has let go of her hand. She looks back at him confused but finds him kneeling on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. Y/N doesn’t give him a chance to open it when she’s jumping on him, knocking him back into the sand. She’s crying against his chest, whispering yes over and over again. 
He laughs, “I haven’t even asked, love.”
She sniffles, “what are you waiting for?” 
Harry sits up, but Y/N doesn’t move from her place on his lap, sandy ring box back in his hand. He knows her answer, but his nerves are back, making his hands shake. Y/N notices and grabs his hands, pulling them to her chest. “Y/N, meeting you in 2015, I knew you were special. From our first conversation, I knew I could fall in love with you, and fall I did. It seems I’m still falling even now. You’re the reason the sun rises every morning and why the moon shines bright at night. You’re the reason why I wake up with a smile every day. You make the hard times bearable and the good times memorable. Y/N Y/LN, will you do me the biggest honor and marry me?” 
Y/N has endless tears running down her face, but her smile is bright. “Yes, Harry. I will marry you. Forever with you is all I want.” 
Harry leans in and kisses his fiancé. 
His fiancé.
Y/N is his fiancé. 
Anthony and a few friends gather somewhere in the distance, taking photos and videos for them. Y/N lets herself get lost in the feeling of his lips against hers. It’s slow and passionate. They are pouring every ounce of love into each other. This is the start of forever. 
“We’re getting married,” she laughs against his lips. 
“We are. Today, tomorrow, in a month, a year. Whenever you want, I will marry you,” Harry promises her. He hopes it’s sooner rather than later. 
“Let’s go home. I want to celebrate.” 
Their family could wait on the news. Tonight was all theirs. 
+
On April 29th, 2022, Harry married the love of his life in a private villa in Italy with their closest friends and family. It was the perfect day, the sun shining bright, and the Amalfi ocean gave them a wonderful breeze. 
“Today’s the day,” he whispered as Y/N sat in his lap out on the balcony of their room. Everyone told them it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding, but Y/N didn’t believe in superstitions, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to say goodnight to her after their rehearsal dinner. 
Y/N sighs, leaning back into him. “Feels like I’ve been waiting for you all my life.” 
Harry laughs, “I think I did all the waiting.” From the start, he always thought she’d never see him as anything more, but he is hours away from making her his wife. 
“Mhm…you’re right. Sorry for the wait.” 
Harry kisses her exposed shoulder. “I’d wait forever for you, my heart.” 
Y/N turns, taking in his expressions. Glimmering eyes and a shining smile, he was about to become her husband. “Let’s go get married, Mr. Styles.” 
“After you, Mrs. Styles.” 
Mr. and Mrs. Styles, it was music to his ears. 
After getting married with Sarah as their officiant, and Lila as their flower girl, they had a beautiful reception. There were speeches from Jeff quoting that Harry knew he would marry Y/N from the minute he set eyes on her to Y/N’s mum, Roslyn entrusting Harry to make her little girl happy for the rest of their life. Even Lila got up to the microphone making Harry promise to share Y/N with her still because she was her’s first. Harry assured the young girl he'd do anything Lila asked of him if it made Y/N happy. It was the most beautiful day, one he would never forget. 
They went on a month-long honeymoon and returned blissfully happy, ready to perform to thousands of people each night. 
The tour began in Glasgow. A sold-out stadium all for him. Harry was ready to share the stage with his wife and best friends. He was prepared to go out and have the time of his life with his fans, but he could not stop crying. Y/N tried her best to comfort him and was doing well, but she was buzzing, wanting to take it all in. He had done this many years ago with four other boys, his brothers. Harry was okay never doing anything at that level again, but here he was about to play his first stadium of many in Europe. 
“Y/N does not want to leave the stage,” Luis rushes in, exhausted, knowing it’s a bit of a walk from the dressing room to the stage. 
Harry laughs, shaking his head. She told him she loved the stage and didn’t want to be elsewhere. He didn’t really believe her, but Y/N kept true to her words. 
“Let’s go get her.” 
It turns out Harry had to carry her out. He threw her over his shoulder as she screamed to let her stay. They knew it wasn’t possible with fans about to be let in and the opener set to perform in a few hours. Harry was happy to share these moments with her. 
They were preparing for their third sold-out night in Wembley, and Harry was happy because he and Y/N had many friends and family coming out to support them. Harry knows that through the years, the audience has come to love his band, also known as the “Love Band,” while Mitch and Sarah were crowd favorites, and Pauli’s dance move always had the fans screaming it was Y/N who managed to steal everyone’s hearts. She didn’t have to try hard. Y/N had that charm about her, from smiling at fans who locked eyes with her to signs made for her to pose for a fan's camera and especially when she handed out guitar picks at the end of the night. Y/N loved walking down the side to reach the middle, and Harry got to see how each interaction she had with a fan only made her shine brighter. 
Today was different; Y/N and Harry sang together during soundcheck. Lila was there and begged for Y/N to sing, then two sisters with similar pouts stared at him, begging him to say yes. There was no telling them no, and Harry sang Sweet Creature with his wife to a young girl who could not stop smiling. Harry was thankful to have Anthony here capturing everything because he knew he wanted to remember this for years to come. 
“I’m pretty sure fans heard us,” Y/N tells him as she plays with her ears.
Harry shrugs, “they’ve never heard you sing before.” 
“Heyy,” she frowns. “Be nice to your wife.” 
He smirks. He will never get tired of hearing that. “My dear wife, I apologize for hurting your feelings. Will you forgive me?”
She taps her lips twice, “kiss?” 
He leans in, happy to comply with her wishes. She hums against his lips. Harry is tempted to take it farther but knows there is no time for that now.
“Love you, Y/N. Thank you for sharing the stage with me,” he whispers, feeling overwhelmed. 
Y/N grins, “thanks for paying me the big bucks to be here,” she teases. 
Harry groans, giving her a loving tap on her butt. “You’re a menace.” 
“Yeah, but you love me,” she sing-songs.
“I do. I always will.” 
He doesn’t know where life will take him and Y/N, but he knows it will all be alright as long as they are together. 
+
A year ago, he played at Wembley stadium and was freshly married. Now he has celebrated his first anniversary and was back to play four sold-out nights. Harry’s House is out to the world and has received so much love from fans to the Grammys. He remembers winning album of the year, the most prestigious award of the night, and how tempted, he was to kiss Y/N there because this album is a love letter to each other. The new album gifted him so much, but there will be nothing better to Harry than sharing the stage with Y/N as he sings songs they wrote together. 
“Wembley, the last time I was here wasn’t long ago, but things have changed in my life.” A dramatic pause. “For the better,” he assures the audience. “Thank you for having me back. Now let’s dance.” 
The night moves on with Harry coming to bother Y/N more than ever, but she doesn’t mind. She gives it right back before sending him off to bother Mitch, who stays stoic, not letting Harry’s antics bother him. “Now, Wembley, you have been the most amazing crowd tonight.” The screams get louder as they listen to him talk. “But I couldn’t have done this alone.”
Harry introduces the band, going through everyone, purposely skipping Y/N. The band looked around, confused, but Y/N did not take her eyes off Harry, who was stepping closer to her. “Now you all know and love her, give it up for Y/N Styles!” Harry kneels down on a knee gesturing to Y/N. 
Y/N smirks as the crowd falls silent, taking in the confession Harry dropped on them. The cameras pan over to her, and she gives a wave with her right hand, her left stays resting on her guitar where she’s sure the fans can see the engagement ring and wedding ring resting on her fourth finger, no longer on a chain around her neck but on display for everyone to see. Harry talked to her about the plan earlier in the day and decided to wear it to show it off.
After a moment, the fans seemed to have processed his words and began to scream and cheer. It’s louder and overwhelming, but Y/N takes it in stride as Harry laughs, looking out at the crowd. Harry brings his microphone up to speak, but the screams get even louder. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief, unable to understand if it’s excitement or shock.
“Sorry,” Harry giggles into the microphone. “I know her as Y/N Styles. Give it up for Y/N Y/LN. But please address her as Y/N Styles. The paperwork was endless,” he jokes to the audience of 90,000. 
Sarah gives Y/N a crazed look, but Y/N shrugs. It was bound to come out, but she was glad they had the power to choose how and when. No better place than on stage doing what they both love. 
“Alright, alright,” Harry begins trying to settle the cheers, but they are not stopping. It’s been going on for minutes, and Y/N’s just taking it all in, loving the support they are receiving. “Thought you came here for me,” he tries. 
Y/N laughs into her microphone, making Harry look at her with a fake pout. “Oh, enjoy this, Y/N. You’re fired.” 
She rolls her eyes, knowing he’s joking. The entire band knows he wouldn’t dream of doing this every night without her.
“Do you want a song?” Harry asks his crazed fans. 
“Together?” Y/N asks into the microphone. The fans have no idea how to react anymore. This show will be going down in history; that’s all Y/N knows.
She steps close to Harry, who welcomes her in a hug, careful with her guitar.
“Which one, love?” Harry inquires, even though he already knows the song she will pick.
Y/N flashes him a pearled smile, “love of my life.” 
Harry looks out at the audience and then turns back to Y/N. He takes her ring hand and kisses her wedding band. “Seems only fitting.” 
+
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pillowpersonpp she’s a rockstar and a wife 
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yourinstagram I LOVE YOU! Thank you for marrying us 
pillowpersonpp its the least i could do since you're the reason i met my husband 
harryfan1 pause…i did not know this
harryfan2 i would marry her too 
mitchrowland the best guitarist!
harryfan3 I love her friendship with y/n
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liked by yelyahwilliams, harrystyles and 4,534,266 others
yourinstagram officially the better styles 
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annetwist a wonderful addition to the family
gemmastyles you know what…you’re absolutely right. 
_basselin oh my friend! Lovely photos 💗
fan1 wedding photos dropping! pray for me
fan2 the most beautiful couple congrats 
fan3 rockstar marries rockstar
harryfan I really thought he was never going to marry 😭
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lloyddddddddddddddddd the (not so) newley weds 🤍
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annetwist I have these framed at home 
anthonypham had the absolute joy of capturing our friends wedding with you
yourinstagram forever grateful! h and i love you boys
yourinstagram 🫶
harrystyles thank you for capturing our special day 
jefezoff they really spent the entire day in their own bubble 
fan1 STOPPPPPP he shot the wedding! Oh i'm so jealous
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harrystyles every moment on stage is special when i get to share it with you, my heart
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glenne_azoff the prettiest girl!
yourinstgram i love you! thanks for falling in love with me back in 2015, baby
harrystyles thank you for joining my band in 2015
paulithepsm y/n the heart of the band 
jefezoff I'll take credit for introducing you to y/n by you naming your first born after me
harrystyles fuck off
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lovebandupdates HARRY AND Y/N SINGING LOML AT WEMBLEY AFTER ANNOUNCING THEIR MARRIAGE
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fan1 all i can do is cry 
fan2 it really is the love band *cries*
fan3 how long do we think he’s been married 
fan4 I was there tonight 😭😭😭 harry is so in love
fan1 spill babes spill
fan4 okay so they sing right and it's the most perfect duet. y/n has a perfect voice that fits harry's perfectly. the song finishes and harry holds her in an embrace for a long time. they come back out and harry has a new ring on his left hand but he basically spends the last of the show kissing her cheek and dancing with her. harry is so in and y/n looks at him with so much love in her eyes. a perfect match
fan3 why you got to say all that. 🥺😭 I am never recovering from this
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justice4canyonmoon · 11 months
Note
something about y/n losing her virginity to harry? please
I hope you enjoy almost 3k words of the softest filth I've ever written 😉 Also, I pictured this as LHH (my beloved) so that's why he's described as having long hair!
warnings: smut!! 18+ only!! vaginal fingering, nipple play (briefly), p in v sex, loss of virginity, innocent reader, soft dom! harry
WC: 2.8 k
Your parents always told you to wait until marriage. Said it wasn’t “ladylike” to give yourself to someone before you were truly dedicated to one another for life. And for a long time you believed them. But now, you were about to graduate college, and you still hadn’t had sex. Your friends all had: Sarah, Mitch, Adam, Harry, Niall, and all of the other people you hung out with found someone to suit them (with Mitch and Sarah it was each other, which you all totally called your freshman year). But you still hadn’t. And you had to say, you didn’t really believe your parents anymore. You wanted to see what the fuss was about. And you wanted it with Harry.
You had always had a bit of a crush on him: the long curls, bright green eyes, full lips, and dimple had drawn you in when you first met in your math class, but his sweet smile, gentle laugh, and kindness made you fall head over heels. Every time he got a new partner, your heart broke a little more, and every time he broke up with them, it healed again. You went through this vicious cycle all throughout your schooling, but tonight, you thought maybe you could break out of it. Harry had been single throughout your whole senior year, and your friends were hanging out at his place tonight. Maybe you could get him alone…
“Alright, I think you’ve had a few too many, Mitch. I’ll get him home.”
Sarah held her boyfriend up, still giggling at how he could barely get up from the chair. Adam had already gone home, since he had an 8-page final essay due for his writing class, and Niall hadn’t been able to come since he was studying for his music theory final. As soon as Harry finished helping Sarah get Mitch out to her car, he came back to find you still on his couch, taking a small sip from the bottle of hard cider you had been drinking. You purposefully didn’t drink enough to get you drunk, wanting to remember this. Sure, this could go horribly wrong and Harry could reject you and not want to be your friend again. But maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way as you. And you would get what you wanted.
“Will you need a ride home? Or are you okay to drive?” he asked.
You smiled, “I’ve only drank one bottle of cider. I’ll be fine, H.”
He smiled back, sitting beside you once more, “Can’t believe it’s almost over. I’ll miss you all when we go.”
“Me too,” you replied, “but I think I’ll miss you the most.”
Harry quirked up a brow, his smile becoming more of a smirk, “Oh, really? And why would that be?”
You sighed, pushing down your nerves and steeling yourself for a potential rejection.
“Because I want you, H. As more than just my friend.”
You paused, waiting for his answer. You locked eyes, trying to read his expression, but it was unusually blank. There was silence. A bit too much. Then his response.
“I wish you had told me that earlier. Before we were about to move home.”
You took one of his large hands in yours, interlacing your fingers.
“I’ve liked you for so long, Harry. But it seemed like every time I worked up the nerve to say something, you’d be with someone else. I didn’t want that to happen again, so I just didn’t say anything,” you explained.
His eyes softened, holding a twinge of guilt, “Only dated other people because I didn’t think I could be yours. Didn’t want to ruin the friendship.”
He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You couldn’t help but get a little flustered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.
“I felt the same way. Except I just stayed single because I’m a loser,” you joked.
A frown stretched across his lips, “No, you’re not. Don’t say things like that.”
“Well no one’s ever fucked me, so I think that might be true.”
And there it was. The invitation you wanted to send. You could only hope that he would accept. 
Harry looked you in the eyes, his expression unusually serious compared to the bright eyed, joyful man you’d come to know.
“I don’t ever want you to think that about yourself. You’re such a lovely person, could never be a loser,” you smiled bashfully at that, but he continued, “and, well, if you’d like to change that…”
He trailed off, knowing you would know what he meant.
“I do, Harry,” you pulled him closer to you, your knees touching because of your close proximity, “I want that with you. I just wouldn’t really know where to start.”
He let go of your hand in favor of cupping your jaw, brushing his thumb against your soft skin, “Would you like me to teach you?”
You nodded, feeling a bit too shy to speak now. Harry smiled reassuringly, gently resting his other hand on your thigh.
“Let me know what you feel comfortable with, okay?”
“Okay,” you managed to get out.
That was all he needed before his lips were on yours. 
They were just as soft as you imagined: plush, pink, and experienced as they moved against your own. You had kissed someone before, so this was at least familiar territory. But soon, he pulled you into his lap, his long curls tickling your skin as he deepened the kiss. You couldn’t help but gasp softly in surprise as his hands moved from cupping your cheek to wrapping around your waist. You felt almost dizzy, and it was just a kiss.
Harry pulled away then, looking deep into your eyes, “Still okay?”
You nodded, but he shook his head, “Need you to tell me. I want to make sure I have your full permission for everything we do.”
Your heart swelled. You doubted you’d find any other man who would treat you like this.
“I’m okay, Harry. Still a little nervous.”
He smiled, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you. May I take this off?”
You hadn’t even noticed he was tugging on your shirt, but his question brought it to your attention.
Remembering his request, you said, “Yes, H.”
You lifted your arms above your head as he undressed you. You couldn’t help but feel a bit shy at your exposed position, moving your arms to cover yourself.
“Fucking beautiful,” Harry cooed, gently unwrapping your arms from your torso, “don’t need to hide from me, baby, you’re so damned pretty.”
Heat rose to your cheeks again as you mumbled a bashful “thank you.”
“Here, I’ll take mine off too.”
You gawked as Harry stripped his shirt off, revealing his toned and tattooed torso. 
“Glad you’re enjoying the show,” he quipped as he stood from the couch, “but I’m not doing any more until we get to the bedroom. Not taking your virginity on my couch.”
You broke eye contact, slightly embarrassed as you stood up as well, “I didn’t mean to stare, H.”
He gently gripped your hips and leaned forward, lips brushing your ear, “I want you to look, darling.”
As quickly as he stepped into your space, he left it, walking the short distance to his bedroom and gesturing for you to follow. You did, still flustered as you walked past him into the familiar space. Harry closed the door behind you, despite the two of you being alone, and sat on the bed, patting his lap.
“Come here, baby.”
You quickly obeyed, sitting on his lap.
He cupped your face in his hands again, “If at any point you feel uncomfortable, please tell me. It’s okay if we don’t go the whole way today, just want you to feel safe.”
“I’ll tell you, I promise. But I don’t think anything you’ll do will make me feel uncomfortable,” you answered honestly, making him smile.
He leaned in and kissed you again, reintroducing the familiar motions. You went along happily, already addicted to his kisses. But soon, he was gently laying you back until your back was against the mattress. Harry’s hands traveled down your body, stopping at your bra.
“May I?”
“Of course, H.”
He unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the ground carelessly as he took in your fully topless torso. His large hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing against your nipples. You jumped from his touch, making him chuckle.
“Sensitive, aren’t you?” he remarked before replacing his thumbs with his lips, licking and sucking at your pert nipples.
You gasped, grabbing at his luscious curls, “Oh, Harry.” 
You felt him smile against you as he continued his ministrations. You barely noticed his hands traveling down until they tugged at the zipper of your jeans. He looked up at you, silently asking permission.
You nodded, lifting your hips, “Please, H, take them off.”
Harry obliged, undoing the zipper and button of your jeans and tugging them down your legs until you were left in just your panties. He lifted his head and drank you in, tugging down the cotton fabric until you were bare before him. Just like before, you felt a bit shy from the attention, but Harry wasn’t letting you cover up.
“Shit, baby, you’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be.”
You had lost count of the amount of times you blushed, “Y-you thought about this?”
“So many times,” he confessed, “wanted to be the first one who made you feel good.”
“I’ve wanted that too. For so long. But you can’t do that if you still have your pants on,” you teased.
He chuckled, “I suppose you’re right. Want to help me?”
You nodded eagerly, tugging the zipper down on his ridiculously tight jeans and helping to shove them down his thick thighs. Now all that was separating you was his boxers. There was a sizeable tent in the fabric, and Harry laughed softly again when he caught you staring.
“Want me to take those off, too?”
You nodded, not bothering with words since he knew how needy you were. He guided your hand to the waistband of his underwear, encouraging you to drag them down. And you did so happily.
Holy shit, he was big.
Of course, this was the first time you had seen a cock, so you supposed you didn’t have much to go off of. But it looked big. 
Harry could see the nerves return to your expression, “Don’t worry, lovely. It won’t hurt. I’ll open you up a bit first. Lay back down.”
You listened, laying your head back on the plush pillows as Harry leaned forward, hovering above you. His hands gently ran along your thighs. You knew he was doing it to make sure that you were comfortable, but quite honestly, you were beginning to get a little impatient.
“Want it, H. Need your fingers.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Not so shy anymore, hm? Am I making you wait too long?”
He didn’t give you a chance to answer his question, running his fingers through your folds to collect your wetness on his fingers. The response you would’ve had came out as a choked moan as you watched him slip his fingers into his mouth.
“Taste so fucking good,” Harry groaned, “definitely eating this perfect pussy next time.”
Heat rose to your cheeks once more at the implication that there would be a next time. But you didn’t have much of a chance to think about it as he used those fingers to spread your pussy open.
“So pretty,” he murmured almost to himself, dragging his fingers through your wet folds.
“Please, Harry,” you whined, tired of being teased.
He smiled at you, “Don’t worry, baby. Said I’d take care of you.”
And his first finger entered you, stretching your entrance in a way it hadn’t been before. Sure, you’d used your own fingers and a toy or two. But it was so different in the best way when someone else did it. 
“Shit,” you gasped as he stretched you open, smirking at how tight you were against just one of his fingers.
“Relax for me, baby. Gonna need at least one more finger, if not two to make sure you’re nice and ready for me.”
You willed yourself to relax, allowing yourself to sink into the pillows as he pressed inside of you. He pulled out completely before re-entering with two fingers, making you moan out in pleasure.
“Oh fuck! Harry!”
“That’s it, beautiful. Look so good taking my fingers like this,” he praised, curling his fingers inside of you, “bet you’ll look even prettier with my cock.”
“Want it, Harry, please,” you begged.
“Not yet, pretty. Need to make sure you’re nice and stretched open for me.”
He took his sweet time, teasing you with the slow drag of his fingers. The sounds coming from your pussy were obscene, wetness squelching around his fingers as he fucked you. You could feel the coil in your belly and your pussy clenched around him.
“Gonna cum for me, baby? Can feel you squeezing me.”
You nodded, already too far gone to speak. Harry smirked, then leaned in to suck your clit. 
You saw stars, vision becoming slightly fuzzy as you experienced the best orgasm of your life. He fucked you through it, fingers not stopping as you soaked them.
“That’s it, pretty. So good for me,” he praised.
When you came down from your high, Harry smirked at you, “Think you're ready for this cock, baby?”
“Please, Harry! Need to feel you in me, please,” you begged, not particularly caring if you sounded desperate. 
He rolled a condom over his cock and lined himself up with your entrance.
Harry’s expression turned serious again, “Promise you’ll tell me if it hurts at all.”
You nodded, “I will, H, promise.”
Satisfied with your answer, he leaned in and kissed you softly as his tip breached your entrance. You gasped softly: if you thought his fingers stretched you out, it was nothing compared to the girth of his cock. Harry murmured soft encouragements into your skin as he slowly entered you, filling your pussy for the first time. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, the only sounds escaping your lips were broken whimpers. Soon, he was fully sheathed inside of you, making you the fullest you had ever been in your life.
“Harry,” you whined.
He smiled at you, lovingly brushing your hair from your face, “Feel okay, baby?”
You nodded, “So full. Move, please?”
Of course, he couldn’t say no if you asked so politely. So slowly, he rolled his hips, testing the waters. The sweet moan that spilled from your mouth was enough confirmation that you were ready. He pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, setting a slow yet still somehow relentless pace as he fucked you. Choked gasps and whines fell from your lips with abandon as Harry pounded you. It was absolute bliss. He looked like an angel, long hair framing his perfect face as his brow was furrowed in concentration, determined to make you feel good.
“So good, Harry,” you managed to gasp out to assuage his worries.
He smiled then, lips brushing your temple as he continued his slow, yet powerful thrusts, “Yeah? You like it?”
“Love it,” you moaned as he brushed a spot inside of you, “Right there, H.”
“Here?” he asked cheekily as he hit that spot again, turning you into a pile of mush.
Harry sped up a bit, sensing that you could take more. You moaned desperately as he continued to hit that perfect spot inside of you with every thrust. His cock filled you deliciously, and quite honestly, you didn’t know how you went without it until now. 
“Fuck, feel like I’m gonna cum soon, your pussy is just too perfect. Are you close, pretty?”
You nodded, feeling the coil in your belly once more, “So close, Harry! Please!”
“Need you to cum so I can. C’mon baby, give it to me,” he commanded. 
One of his thumbs moved between your bodies, skillfully rubbing your clit. You writhed around his as your orgasm slammed into you, completely taking your breath away. Somehow, it was even better than the first one, your vision blurring even more as you clenched around him. You vaguely heard yourself whimpering his name brokenly as he spilled into the condom, groaning as he found his release. You were brought back to reality from the feeling of his lips brushing against yours, and you responded to his kiss as best you could.
He smiled, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks, “Was that good for you, baby?”
“Absolutely perfect, Harry. Thank you,” you answered shyly, running your fingers through his curls.
You may not be going to college together anymore in a few weeks, but you knew this wasn’t the last time you’d see him. Not when he treated you better than any other man possibly could.
747 notes · View notes
1d1195 · 27 days
Text
My Friend's Toyota IV
Read the rest here: My Friend's Toyota
~6.2k words
Warnings: fluff, some angst, some 18+ escapades mentioned/described but nothing over the top, virgin reader/experienced H (semi-spoiler: you will not be reading about their first time in this one) I'm sure we all know I do 3rd POV typically, but I think this will also feel like it's rapidly switching between our characters within that lens, so just keep that in mind. Also I think this part is really... complex if you will. Think coming of age, trying to figure out life kind of stuff. It's not easy and I wrote it randomly in a way, because I don't think you can wrap all this stuff up in a neat little bow the way you expect to. There are curveballs in life and especially in sex. There are difficult conversations to be had and things that are hard to explain; this is just the way I chose to portray such a relationship. I kind of left this open-ended in a way that I could come back to it for follow-ups. I hope that doesn't detract from the story.
Sorry for the long note; here is the last part. Thank you for reading it. I hope you enjoy 💕
Harry wondered if he kissed her would his lips stick to hers.
He kind of hoped they would.
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She’s not ready for the air to get colder / ‘Cause she’s so used to living on the beach down in Florida / Wanna take her to the mountains / We can take my friend’s Toyota / But the heat don’t work so when the air gets colder / I can hold ya
Harry was going to kill Mitch. When they stopped for gas, he texted him while she ran in to the station to grab some extra snacks. How come the heat isn’t working?
Whoops. I forgot about that...
Mitchell. She is FREEZING.
Sarah says it’s an excuse to snuggle.
Honestly, Harry had already thought of that. But he wanted her to be whole and warm when they made it to the cabin. It made him so anxious that he was ruining their weekend getaway before it barely started. But she returned chipper as ever, four cups of hot liquid in a little cardboard tray. He smirked, raising his eyebrows suspiciously at the copious number of drinks.
She smiled shyly. “It’ll be warm,” she shrugged.
He chuckled as she settled the drinks in the middle of the bench seat and made sure they wouldn’t spill while Harry drove. It was only another hour to the cabin. It was freezing. Truly, freezing didn’t even justify the cold temperature she was feeling. It felt like there was ice in the bottom of her shoes—she contemplated spilling one of the cups of hot chocolate she purchased into her boots just for warmth. “M’so sorry about the heat, kitten. I didn’t know.”
Despite her jaw silently chattering (she hid the sound of it from Harry by pulling her lower lip into her mouth ever so slightly) she smiled at him. “I’m fine,” she promised. Really, she was. It wasn’t like she was going to get hypothermia or anything, it was just cold. The hot liquid helped though, the cup warmed her gloved hands and melted her insides as she drank it. Harry also provided her with two warm, fuzzy blankets to snuggle under during the ride. It wasn’t too late—but winter up North anything past four PM was late. The sky was nearly black, only stars and stray wispy clouds. It didn’t help the chill in the cab of the truck. She packed an overnight bag of her regular belongings with clothes and toiletries, her backpack (because it was really hard for her to part from her schoolwork when school was in session), and plenty of jackets and sweatshirts. Harry packed about the same and all their bags were piled into the thin backseat of the cab of the truck as well. In the bed of the truck was an assortment of drinks and food items they might need as general basics when they got to the cabin. They would still need to go to the grocery store.
The prospect of playing house with her was very exciting.
Harry thought she was the cutest little ad for ski gear with a little knit headband around her ears and matching mittens. She was so pretty it made him feel dizzy. “Do you want some?” She asked, grabbing a second cup from the tray. He smiled, taking it with one hand and sipping it. He popped out the cupholder that resided within the dash and slid it in.
His mum always warned him that driving at dusk and dawn were the two hardest times to drive. Between the animals and other drivers struggling to see in the fading or growing light he wasn’t surprised.
Add in snow coming off the mountain? It was another added distraction.
But she had never seen snow. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
He smiled silently at her awed expression, keeping his eyes on the road, the wiper blades pushing the fluffy squall of flakes off the glass. She shifted in her seat edging closer to the dashboard, the seatbelt stretching to accommodate her closeness. “Is it always sparkly like that?” Her voice was reverent. Soft and warm despite how icy she must have felt. Harry was focused on not skidding on what could be an icy cold road. Maybe he should have waited until the morning to start driving but he wanted to milk every possible second of the weekend with her without interruption from anyone. A two-night, and two-and-a-half-day stay was hardly enough so he wasn’t going to lose that half a day for nothing.
“I’ve never noticed it sparkling,” he admitted. She used her teeth to pull her glove off before she reached for the windshield. With one finger on it, the heat from her finger creating a little halo of steam on the glass, her eyes scanned the fluttering snow as it fell in front of the headlights.
“It’s like glitter,” she murmured. “It’s so pretty; I don’t think I’ve ever seen something this pretty…can we stop?”
It was fortunate they were coming to a rest stop—Harry had only been to Mitch’s cabin a few times but when they travelled in from their hometown, it was a much longer journey, and the rest stop was always needed. Pulling off the highway, she got out of the car quickly. Harry followed suit, locking the vehicle and fell into step beside her. She was so bright-eyed. The chill in the air didn’t seem to bother her, although Harry was sure it had to because it almost bothered him.
There was a thin layer of snow coating the ground. If he had a measuring tape, it wouldn’t even read a millimeter. She stood still gazing upward, the fluffy flakes caught on her little headband, in her hair. They melted as they hit her face, making her cheeks spotted with a little drop of moisture.
But what had him falling further in love with her was the way they fell on her eyelashes and clung to them for a moment before turning into water again. Her cheeks pinked in the chilly air and Harry wondered if he kissed her would his lips stick to hers.
He kind of hoped they would.
Without warning, she hurried to the picnic table that was also covered in snow and laid across it, stretching her arms out and sighing deeply. “I know I’m always cold, but I do love it. It’s so much better than the heat,” she looked so gorgeous, Harry could hardly breathe. She turned her head and smiled at him. “You think I’m crazy,” she giggled.
He nodded. “I do,” he sounded so serious, but his smile was so enticing it made her stomach hurt.
“You know, this is where you would murder me,” she told him.
He snorted and shook his head at her. “Oh?”
“Yup. You kill me here, abandoned rest stop, closed for the season. No one finds me till spring. You have your nice long weekend alone.”
He rolled his eyes. “You think Allie wouldn’t hunt me down?”
“You stole my phone tell her I couldn’t be here anymore, too cold. Move back south.”
“Your parents?”
“They haven’t a clue,” she shrugged.
“No more podcasts, kitten.”
She turned her attention back to the sky, the falling flakes making her look like a literal snow angel, speckling her hair. “It’s beautiful,” her voice was so soft. Harry smiled and moved to lay beside her. She shifted, allowing space on the creaky table. He let one leg dangle off the side, propped up by the bench seat. He tried to see it the way she saw it. It had been so long since he had stopped and watched the snow fall. He knew it was beautiful. There were reasons people visited the mountains to ski and have romantic, chilly getaways. But he could hardly tear his eyes away from her to look at the beauty she saw that wasn’t her own reflection. “Do you even like snow?” She asked.
He nodded. “When I was younger,” he started. “I was the only boy,” he smiled fondly. “Mum and Gemma were adamant that I do what was proper and right. But it was more than that. I wanted t’be a gentleman t’them, y’know?” She didn’t obviously, not exactly, but she nodded. “I actually liked shoveling. Our neighbors paid me t’shovel their drives as well,” he explained. “It was so quiet. Y’can’t really tell right now,” he gestured toward the highway that had cars singing down the road to their destinations. “Snow absorbs the sound of everything else, traps it in the flakes and carries it t’the ground like s’tucking a kid into bed,” he shook his head with a smile. “S’the only way I can describe it. Felt like when Mum would carry me t’bed when I was sick,” he paused. “You must think I’m crazy,” he smiled.
She shook her head eagerly. “No,” she promised. “I mean, it’s a weird way to say no one will hear me scream when you murder me,” she shrugged and Harry laughed, rolling his eyes again. Seriousness came over her features again and she turned on her side to face him. “Tell me more,” she whispered. “It’s quiet,” she reminded him, encouraging him to continue his story. “You liked shoveling?”
He kissed the middle of her forehead and took a deep breath inhaling her perfume and the smell of her laundry detergent that mixed together to create this amazing scent that was entirely her. “My mum and Gemma did so much for me,” he explained. “I’d do anything for them. So...I like the snow a lot. S’peaceful.”
She looked back up and watched the flakes fall and land on Harry’s skin without any pattern. It made his skin dewey and somehow more beautiful. She brushed her glove thumb on his eyebrow, brushing the flakes that landed there before they froze. “It is peaceful.”
“We should go before we freeze.”
“Eager to kill me in private, I see.”
“There’s something wrong with you.”
“You picked me,” she giggled getting off the table and right as she stepped away, Harry grabbed her hand, pulled her back so she was between his legs, arms pressed to the front of his body and his arms circled around her waist.
“I’d pick you, again and again,” he promised before kissing her sweetly on the lips. Fortunately (or unfortunately, for Harry), their lips didn’t stick together.
Harry forgot how much warmth was produced to melt any hope of staying stuck to her.
*
“Can I do something?” She asked about ten minutes longer into the drive.
“Of course,” he chuckled.
She unbuckled herself, scooted to the middle seat, replacing her old spot with the warm drinks ensuring once more they wouldn’t spill while driving. She leaned toward him, her body snug against his side. His hand fell to her thigh wrapped in at least two layers and he still thought she wouldn’t have looked sexier in lingerie. Carefully, she draped her blankets across Harry’s lap as well. “This is much better,” she sighed.
Harry couldn’t have agreed more. He squeezed her thigh and kissed the top of her head without moving his gaze from the road. “Warm?” He asked.
She nodded. “Very.”
His heart was in his throat because the snow was getting a little heavier as he creeped further north to the little mountain town. Her sweet voice was going on and on about how pretty the snow was, what she was looking forward to this weekend, and how not even their upcoming finals had her in a bad mood.
It took every ounce of self-control to focus on the road and not her. When she started pointing at how fluffy the flakes were once more Harry cleared his throat. “Kitten,” his voice was soft. She could hear the warning tone. A frown graced her lips in his peripheral.
“Yeah?”
“I love your voice,” he began.
Looking away briefly she turned and nuzzled her face against his jacketed arm. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” She asked quietly.
“God, no,” he shook his head, it seemed horrible to face forward and not look at her while he reassured her. “I’d listen t’you for hours jus’ t’hear y’read the ingredients in m’shampoo,” he promised. “But you are the most precious cargo I’ve ever driven—”
Immediately, she turned her face toward his arm, still pressed to his side. Like she was embarrassed over the notion. “That’s the sweetest—”
“—and I want t’stare at you, and talk t’you about the snow, finals, everything, love. But I want t’get you to the cabin safely. Your sweet voice is so distracting. S’not your fault at all. S’mine. I jus’ want t’look at you.”
“I’ll be quieter,” she promised, but there was a smile in her voice as she murmured quietly into his arm again.
“You’re not mad, no?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve never driven in the snow. Forgot it might be scary. Even for a veteran driver like you,” she nosed at his arm again. She let all the air escape her in a long sigh. “I’ll let you focus,” her voice wasn’t as exuberant, but Harry glanced at her briefly to see a content smile on her face. Her eyes facing forward as she admired the snowy road. Relief coursed through him that she didn’t hate him for basically telling her to shut up. Quietly she hummed to the music playing through the speakers.
Harry was a believer in some kind of heaven beyond.
But driving along a cold snowy road, with the girl of his dreams on his arm, he stopped believing.
There was no way heaven could exist if she was right beside him.
*
The cabin was the stuff of dreams. It was secluded, but honestly not in the serial killer way she kept mocking Harry about. From the little perch of land, she could see down to the town nearby. Not quite rural but not urban either. It was perfect. They stopped at the grocery store on the way in and she caught sight of an old bookstore and a little boutique that she wanted to go to tomorrow.
“I honestly hadn’t considered killing you till now, kitten,” Harry was grumbling as they carried the groceries in first, then their other bags. When Harry glanced away very briefly to check nothing was left in their cart, she paid for the groceries with a tap of her debit card.
“I knew it,” she whispered to mostly herself with a smile.
“Supposed t’be treating you,” he continued grumbling.
“Harry, you treat me literally all the time. You worked so many extra shifts this week to make up for missing the weekend ones. Just let me,” she assured him putting the perishables in the fridge and freezer. He still felt guilty, and she could see his mind spinning with ways to make up for the “atrocity.”
“D’you want anything t’eat or drink?” He asked.
“How about the pizza?” She suggested. It was quick and easy and didn’t require a lot of thought to make. It would be easy for their first night here. “I got it,” she offered, and Harry went to set up the fireplace. While he worked on the fire, she meandered around the cabin. It was warm and cozy but also extremely open. Pictures of Mitch and Harry were strewn about table surfaces. Vacations from their school days. Other pictures of whom she assumed was the rest of Mitch’s family. Sarah was even in a few, too. The décor was perfect for a cabin. Like it had been crocheted a giant sweater to sit on the walls with a variety of little inspirational ski quotes like “skiing is the next best thing to having wings.” It was toasty without the fireplace going just because it was everything a mountain cabin should be.
The beautiful stone fireplace cracked now that Harry had fed it enough firewood. It was along the back wall set between windows that let the sunlight in each morning (she wasn’t positive on that, but assumed it was built so the bedrooms wouldn’t be in direct sunlight while waking up), and the coziest looking couches she had seen. They fit the room perfectly. All they needed was a sweet, chocolate labrador to play fetch with and this could be home.
She pulled the knit headband off her head, finally warming from the heat and the fireplace. Harry brought her a glass of wine. It felt like they were real adults on a trip. Harry almost immediately stripped of his outdoor gear when they arrived, but it took a while for her southern blood to warm. Eventually she slid her coat off. Harry hung it on the back of a chair while he found plates in the cabinet and finished with the remainder of the groceries: things for the bathroom that weren’t regularly stored in the little getaway. She was inspecting the bookshelf reading the back of covers that were old and well-loved. “Anything good?”
She smiled. “I think all books are good.”
He chuckled, grabbed their overnight bags by the front door and went off to another room. Her heart pounded with the realization they were on a trip together and it wasn’t just Harry’s suite like she had gotten used to over the last month and a half.
All week she had been nervous. Allie could tell it reached a breaking point on Thursday when she was packing. Harry was at work, unaware of her troubles. She knew she was being ridiculous. Harry had been nothing but kind since she met him. But when he brought their bags to the other room, all the anxiety she had squashed down came flooding back to her.
“Are you excited?” Allie’s voice was gentle when she asked while she finished zipping her bag. All she needed were the toiletries that she would pack once she used them in the morning.
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Oh, that’s assuring,” Allie hopped onto her bed and patted the seat beside her as if it were her room. “C’mon, sweetie,” she encouraged with a sweet smile. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head, cheeks flaming, unable to put it into words because she felt so embarrassed. Even in front of someone who was very much her best friend. “It’s nothing.”
“I’ll tickle it out of you,” she warned.
“Oh my God,” she sat beside her and looked at her hands in her lap. It was extremely quiet in her room. “I’ve never had sex,” she mumbled.
“What?!” She gasped.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned. “I knew it was weird,” she covered her face with her hands.
“No, shit,” Allie put a comforting hand on her arm. “No, it’s not weird. It’s not anything,” she said reassuringly.
“Allie, Harry has definitely had sex, yes?” Allie was silent. “Right,” tears welled in her eyes. “It’s just this element of our relationship that’s so...” she shook her head. “Unequal.”
“Sweetie, Harry is not going to care about that at all.”
“I know, but I do,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I feel so...lame. So immature. How is that possible?”
“I really don’t know because you are way more mature than I am, and it’s got nothing to do with sex.”
She ignored that comment because she knew it was supposed to help but everything felt awful. Her body was overheating with shame and awkwardness she had never felt before. “What if I’m bad at it?”
Allie snorted and patted her arm again. “Impossible.”
“Allie...” she whined, tears still filling her vision. “I...” she swallowed, took a deep breath. “I think I love him. If I’m not good at it... then... I’m just a waste of his time—”
Allie shook her head immediately. “Stop, stop, stop,” she hushed. “You are not a waste of time. If you and Harry stopped seeing each other tomorrow, I would expect him to write you a thank you note for being with him for the past few months.”
“You think I’m an idiot. A prude.”
“No, of course not! I’m surprised. You’re hot as fuck, babe,” she rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have anyone you wanted to...?” she trailed off with the question lending itself to the silence.
“No,” she shook her head. “You have to understand, my parents are so in love with each other. Sometimes it’s nauseating. It’s not like I didn’t want to just get it out of the way. I wish I did. I wish I just... God, it’s so lame sounding. I just think it’s supposed to be special. It’s an important part of a relationship, but I didn’t want it to be the only thing,” her voice cracked more times than she could count. The words came out in a sad whisper. But she left the story about studying for physics in her junior year that she had told Harry unsaid. Allie nodded understandingly.
“That’s not lame, sweetie,” she promised. “There’s no right or wrong to it. It just is.”
“I literally Googled how not to be bad in bed.”
Allie laughed despite herself. “Of course you would do research.”
“Al,” she whined again.
“I’m not trying to pry, sweetie... have you... done anything precursory with Harry?” She asked.
Her face warmed and she nodded. It wasn’t every night they slept together or anything, but Harry’s fingers and tongue were no stranger to her body. Her mouth honestly ached to have him in her just as much as her body seemed to ache recently for more than what they were currently doing.
Allie sighed. “Look, I said it before, I’ll say it again. If Harry tries anything shady with you, I will cut his dick off, no questions asked. Honestly, he would probably appreciate the gesture on your behalf,” she shrugged. When she didn’t hear a flicker of laughter she continued, gentler than the previous sentence. “Sweetie, I know you love him,” it was a little weird to hear her best friend say it without the word think or feel in it the way she had said it, thought it, and voiced it out loud. “But God, if he doesn’t love you too,” she promised. “It doesn’t have to happen. I know I was a little wary of him at first, but I can tell that Harry would do anything to make you happy,” she promised. “You probably wouldn’t need to have sex with him ever if you didn’t want to.”
“I think I want to.”
“Okay, well,” Allie turned, waiting for her to look at her. Gather all the attention with focused eye contact with the utmost seriousness she had ever seen on her free-spirited friend’s face. “Until that’s an ‘I know’ you’re not to do anything you don’t want to. Do you understand? I have a mind to tell Harry myself because you’re too kind to say it.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea Allie,” she grumbled sarcastically. “Tell my boyfriend I’m too scared to go away with him because I think I’ll be bad at sex?”
Allie didn’t even flinch and the preposterousness of it all. “I literally do not care,” she shrugged.
A beat of silence ensued. “I won’t,” she mumbled. It wasn’t like Allie was wrong in her line of thinking. It did sound like something she would do to appease Harry. “I won’t,” she repeated more for herself than for Allie.
When Harry returned from putting their bags away, she was still pretending to read the back of book covers while she reminisced about the conversation she had with Allie. “I think this is where Mitch’s mum puts all the books they no longer read, kind of thing,” he explained, entering the room, and pulling her from her thoughts.
She hoped her smile wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable looking. “Yeah, some old ones here,” she affirmed and brought one of the books and her glass of wine to the sofa, she settled both on the coffee table and looked at the fire again. “This is perfect, Harry,” she smiled. Her heart felt whole, despite all the anxiety she also felt. He sighed nearly with relief.
“Good,” he fell beside her and pressed a hand to the side of her face. “M’glad,” he kissed her forehead effectively turning her insides to liquid. “Pizza’s almost ready. Did y’want t’study for a bit before we... watch a movie or something?”
Her heart felt so much gratitude for him. “Really? On a Friday night? A weekend getaway?” She wondered.
“I mean... if y’don’t want to, then of course not. But I know y’well enough t’know y’kind of want to. Because y’don’t want t’fall behind—which I do think is impossible... but I know it’ll make y’feel better t’turn your brain off tomorrow and Sunday,” he shrugged with a smile that was so easy and lovely she really believed Sarah for a moment that he wouldn’t have sex if she asked.
But there was no way she was going to ruin a romantic weekend away. “I have Monday,” she said firmly.
“Are y’sure? I really don’t mind. M’behind myself, a bit because of the extra shifts,” he explained.
Her guilt flew out of her system. “Oh, okay, if you’re sure.”
He shook his head with a smirk. “Kitten,” he cooed. “M’not gonna be upset if y’want t’study...if it’ll help y’relax and—”
“I just really don’t want you to think I’m lame,” she hurried looking away as she interrupted him.
He frowned. “M’not being a very good boyfriend if y’think m’gonna say you’re lame for wanting t’do well and get good grades,” he tugged her backpack over the back of the couch and settled it in front of her. “I don’t know why y’think m’not going t’like y’suddenly,” he pouted.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and bit her lip. “I know you like me because I’m me, but I’ve never had the best self-esteem and I know that’s not good in itself, but I do pride myself as a really hard worker. I want to do well and get good grades, but I know it’s not...” she sighed and put a hand on her forehead. “I’m not making sense,” the frustration evident in her voice.
“Kitten,” Harry’s voice was so gentle but in one word he sounded so encouraging as well. It was like magic. “I want you t’do whatever makes y’happiest; whatever makes you the most successful. M’supporting you fully. One hundred percent,” he shrugged, grabbing his own backpack and pulling out a folder of papers. “If that means we are studying for a bit, then I want t’study.”
She was lucky she didn’t shout that she loved him from the top of her lungs right then.
*
At some point, her worksheets were set aside. The pizza was gone, her wine glass and a second one drained. The fire crackled in the background while Harry kissed her so deeply, she felt it in every cell of her skin. Part of her wanted to run outside and lay in the snow just to cool off how warm she felt from having Harry’s hands all over her body, under her shirt, in her pants.
Harry’s hands slid just an inch lower. “Kitten,” he hummed. He wasn’t trying anything it was just the way his hands shifted. The memory of that afternoon. Studying for physics. It wasn’t the same, not even a little. She felt so safe with Harry and yet her brain wouldn’t turn off. The way he touched her the last few months felt different than the way he touched her then.
She ripped away from him, falling to the floor beside the couch. Before he could utter a syllable or help her back up to the sofa, she choked out a gasp of surprise. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I just don’t think—” She had a hand on her chest and Harry thought she was hyperventilating. He felt so horrible.
“Kitten,” he cooed gently reaching for her. “I’m—”
“No! Please don’t apologize, it will just make me feel even worse!” She croaked and covered her face briefly pushing the tears to either side of her cheeks. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You have been so patient, so—” she swallowed. “I’m just so stupid and I feel so horrible. I want to, I want to so bad but I don’t—”
“Oh my God,” Harry whispered. His voice was filled with shock piecing together what she thought he was going to do or say. The poor, sweet thing. “Baby,” he reached for her again.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” She sobbed. “It’s so stupid—I’m so stupid!”
“Kitten,” he tried once more wishing she would stop insulting herself. It only made him feel more terrible. He couldn’t imagine how she felt. “My love, please stop,” he begged very gently and grabbed her arms as softly as possible but firmly, so she stopped moving.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. She was even beautiful when she cried. Harry couldn’t imagine his expression. It felt like a cross between a frown and sad smile. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“Please stop apologizing,” he brought his hands to her cheeks and pushed her tears away. “M’not mad or disappointed with anything,” he promised.
The silence was thundering loud. Eventually, when she uttered one syllable, her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. “No?”
It felt like she punched him right in the stomach. A single word question that broke his heart. “Of course not, kitten.”
She swallowed, swiped her tears away. “Oh,” she whispered. “Then... what—”
“I was going to tell you I love you,” he smiled at her. “A lot, really. ’Ve told y’before. ‘Ve never felt this way ‘bout someone the way I feel ‘bout you. I’ve been waiting for you for...” he shook his head. “Years. The second I bumped into you. I jus’ knew. M’so in love with you. It’s been very hard t’keep it t’myself all this time. M’sorry y’thought this weekend was something t’pressure you—kitten,” he stopped abruptly, looked her in the eyes and held her gaze so she would understand the sincerity of his next words. “We could never have sex a day in our life, and I would continue t’love you as much as I did the day I met you.”
Her jaw trembled like it did on the ride in that freezing truck parked outside. “You love me?” She whispered.
“Of course I do, kitten. What’s not to love?”
I made us have homework time on a weekend getaway, I don’t like drinking from red solo cups, I’ve never been drunk in my life, I haven’t had sex with you. But she kept all these thoughts to herself. “You really love me?” She repeated.
His smile was still sad, but he chuckled ever so lightly. “Yes, baby. I love you very much.”
“I love you too,” she whispered.
His face melted into a lazy smile. “Yeah?” He asked, completely awestruck. She nodded quickly, feeling at a loss for words. The fast beating of her heart made her woozy. “You’re sure? Not jus’ saying that because y’feel bad or... I know y’said you’ve never been in love before—”
“I’m very sure,” she promised. “I think I’ve loved you since you showed me where my class was,” she looked at him nervously. Like he would somehow take it back for how she fell in love so quickly after hardly knowing him. Instead, his already gentle gaze softened even more, and he kissed her softly, his lips brushing so gently against hers. It made her mouth tingle with wanting more but she wasn’t sure she could breathe properly to tell him that. They had kissed a lot in those three months but somehow this one made her unsure—as if he suddenly made her forget how to kiss. When he pulled away, she felt an ache in her chest like she wasn’t close enough to Harry. “Again,” she whispered. He smiled and slotted his mouth back between hers kissing her, almost harder, deeper. He pulled away carefully, cupping the back of her neck. “Again,” her voice was sure, but she looked flushed, nervous.
“Kitten,” he whispered, his face a little disapproving.
“I want to,” she promised.
“Kitten,” he repeated, stronger this time. Allie had texted him the previous night and all it said was Delete this after reading: you BETTER be good to her, or I will rip your throat out without an ounce of remorse. At the time he had wondered what prompted such an aggressive message. Things with Allie had been good. He felt he had her trust after all she knew about his past relationships. Maybe that was why she felt so at ease to send him the threat. In a way he was kind of grateful for it. Like a final note that she accepted him.
Of course, Allie.
Have a great weekend 😇
He laughed at the time, the duality of her best friend’s messages. But the previous one was gone, deleted and part of him wished he could show someone (not that he would) only because it made him smile.
All of it made sense now and he was not smiling. She shook her head, shame filling her entire body and promptly appearing all over her features. “I promise, I’ll stop if I don’t want to,” she swore. “Do you not want to?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he whispered so softly she barely noticed the curse in his phrase—like he had whispered I love you again. “Of course I want you, kitten,” he promised. “But we don’t have to. M’happy t’do whatever y’want for the rest of our lives,” he vowed. “Y’told me y’wanted a relationship. I told you I waited a really long time for you,” he reminded her. “M’not worried about any progression in our relationship except making sure you’re comfortable,” he promised. “You,” he held her face between his hands. Like she was made of something rarer and more fragile than glass. It made her stomach flip, her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt so adored in that moment, it felt indescribable. “You are perfect,” he murmured. “Completely. Just want t’keep y’warm,” he smiled.
There were a hundred reasons she didn’t feel good enough for Harry. But he was warm and safe. Regardless of what anyone had to say about him. “Harry?” She asked.
“Yes, kitten?”
“Have you ever... brought anyone here?”
“Only when I drive Mitch and Sarah.”
“So this is a first?” Her voice was stronger.
Harry felt his face contort into a smile of total admiration for her. “Yes. S’a first, love.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what, kitten?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, just... thinking about how much I love you,” she promised. “It’s a lot,” she admitted. “Kind of weird I’ve dreamed and dreamed about love and after so many years without it while all my friends fell in love... It’s...freeing.”
Harry sighed, wishing he could fully articulate how much adoration he had for her. “M’never letting you go,” he murmured, kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her,
And kissed her,
And kissed her.
*
She was wrong about the sun. It was warm in the chilly bedroom. They were dressed again, but her body was entwined with Harry’s closely. It wasn’t normal to sleep like this, but she wanted to be close. Probably closer than she was with the clothes in the way. But a winter cabin, even with heat and a fireplace, was simply too chilly.
Plus, the sun streaming through the windows seemed to be magnified, warming the bed and sheets that Harry had the pair of them snuggled under. His finger drew imaginary lines up and down her back over her shirt. He kissed her forehead and sighed. “Good morning, love,” he murmured against her hairline. “Want some French toast?” He asked. She nodded. “Y’feel okay?” He wondered. She nodded again. “Tired?”  A third nod, but a more decided one. He kissed the top of her head again. “Y’want t’stay here?” She shook her head this time.
“No m’awake.”
“Y’sound awake,” he teased.
She sighed and rolled onto her back creating a rift of coolness to spread over him. He frowned, wishing he hadn’t teased her at all as this wasn’t preferable at all. “Do we have plans for today?”
He shrugged. “Had some ideas. But no. We can do nothing all weekend if y’want,” he promised.
Turning back to him, her smile was lazy, warm, and beautiful. “We better get started then.”
“Oh?” He smirked.
“Mmm,” she flung the covers back and reached back for him with an outstretched hand.
“Hey, kitten?”
“Yes’m?”
“I love you.”
Her shy grin was enough to make him thaw in the chilly cabin. His heart leapt to his throat while he watched her drop the outstretched hand. Instead, she crawled back across the bed so she could kiss him sweetly. “I love you, too,” she whispered. Finally, they meandered out of bed and she gazed out the window over the coating of freshly fallen snow. Not quite thick as a blanket, but beautifully undisturbed in the same way. “Do you think I’ll need a thicker coat while we’re out?” She asked looking at the battle of the clouds hiding the sun now and again. Harry walked up behind her after fixing up the fireplace for the morning.
He pecked her cheek, thinking about how she told him he had never been in love before. He wondered if he had ever been in love before her. “If y’don’t, I’ll keep y’warm.”
--
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harry-on-broadway · 8 months
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One More
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It never failed to surprise you just how well you fit in his arms.
His chest was sticky from sweat and beer and God knows what else, but when he found you backstage and pulled you into his embrace, you didn’t resist. You knew he needed the hug more than you did.
Emotions had been running high over the past few weeks and you were more than happy to be the grounding force he needed as the tour that had occupied nearly two years came to an end. You allowed yourself to be rocked back and forth as he squeezed you tighter, his nose buried in the top of your head as his breathing slowed and the adrenaline left his body. He was clearly starting to calm down.
“Um, Harry? Could you…?” You moved to loosen his arms from around you and take a deep breath.
“Oh, sorry,” he said. His eyes were focused on you but you could tell his mind was miles away. “Give me a few to clean up and then we can head back?” He looked at you for confirmation.
“Sounds good, baby. Take your time.”
He left you with one last kiss and shuffled into his bathroom, towel and robe in hand. As he showered you used the time to clean up your own belongings that were scattered around the room – the glass of wine you’d had before the show, the jacket you’d foolishly brought with you thinking the fiery temps would go down with the sun, and your phone charger, which you’d already forgotten twice in the week you’d been on the road with Harry (something he hadn’t let you forget). When you’d finished your sweep of the room, you planted yourself on the couch. As you’d guessed, a few minutes to Harry meant closer to 90, and you passed the time chatting with the various members of his team that filtered through.
Jeff, Brad, Pauli, Sarah, Mitch, everyone had the same melancholic smile on their face, as if they couldn’t bring themselves to admit that the end was nearing.
“Doesn’t feel real does it?” Pauli asked. “It kind of felt like it was going to last forever.”
You’d never admit it to Harry, but the small selfish part of yourself that you tried to hide was extremely happy that the tour was ending. You’d long been aware that dating Harry meant sharing him with millions of others, a fact he’d warned you of over ice cream on your second date, but his career had never felt this present.
You didn’t know what had made it so hard this time around. Maybe it was the crush of tour dates you’d planned your lives around, maybe it was the attention that came with winning multiple Grammys, or maybe just the fact that you’d both had to return to real life after finding comfort in the pandemic bubble. Regardless, you were thrilled with the fact that, starting on Sunday, he’d be in your shared bed for more than a few days each month.
“Ready to go, love,?” Harry poked his head round the corner. In the heat of the night, he’d swapped his usual post-show hoodie for a worn t-shirt, and had pulled his wet curls back with a clip that you were pretty sure you’d worn on the flight here.
“Took you long enough,” you said with a smirk.
“OK, sassy,” Harry said with a light laugh. “I can just leave you here.”
“You’d never do that,” you scoffed.
“Awfully confident for someone who’s about to spend the night in a dressing room.”
“You’d miss your nightly back scratches,” you said confidently. “Somehow I don’t think those fall under Jeff’s purview.”
“You’re right. That’s Tom’s job.” You both burst into giggles as Harry pulled you into a standing position. His eyes lingered on yours, taking a moment before kissing you gently.
“We should probably head out,” you murmured. “It’s going to be a big couple of days.”
“Yeah…”
You bumped his hip with yours, and he deftly grabbed both his bag and yours in his right hand, taking your hand in his left. The car ride was quiet, even more so than usual, as Harry stared out the window at the passing lights. Even though he was once again in his own world, his hand worked overtime spinning the ring you wore on your finger, a motion you knew was soothing to him.
Back at your hotel, fatigue quickly caught up to the both of you as you moved slowly through your evening routines, drowsily dodging each other around the bathroom sink as you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Pajamas on, you climbed into bed, Harry following close behind as he turned off the light.
You flipped to your right side, facing Harry as your eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. Like clockwork, his hand found your hip where he began rubbing small circles on the bit of skin that was exposed, while your hand made its way to his bare back, scratching dully at his soft skin.
“Just one more show,” you sighed.
“Yep.”
“Why so sad?” you prodded. “Not ready to come back to my snoring and blanket thievery?” You heard a soft noise come from him. Whether it was a sigh or a laugh you couldn’t tell.
“I’m really nervous.” It was as if the blanket of darkness made it easier for him to be vulnerable. “I’m really nervous about what Saturday is going to be like and everything that’s going to happen…after.” You could hear him swallow thickly. “It’s like I’m riding to the edge of a cliff and have no idea what’s on the other side.”
“That’s a perfectly normal thing to feel, H. It’s a big change.”
“And I just feel guilty too…” The floodgates had opened and there was no going back now. “I’m so excited to just be me. Be us. But like it feels selfish to not want to do anything. Like why do I have that luxury when others don’t.” He took a shuddering breath. “But then there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to end things and stay on that stage forever which is so unfair to you…”
“Hey,” you said sternly. “Don’t you dare worry about me. I’m never going to be mad about getting to spend more time with you, but I also know how much performing means to you. And I’d never ask you to give that up.” You flattened your hand against his back, letting him feel the cool metal band of the ring he’d given you on one knee earlier this year. “You’re stuck with me, Styles. I’m not going anywhere.”
He snorted a laugh. “Still don’t know how I hoodwinked you into this deal but I’ll take it.” He nuzzled in closer to you. “Everything just feels so…big right now. It’s like almost too much to think about.”
“So, don’t,” you said plainly, perfectly aware that your advice was easier said than done. “Saturday is just another show. And then you’re going to take a break and then you’ll just do another show. We don’t know where or when, but I promise you there will be another show.”
You could feel his even and measured inhales and exhales as he mulled over your words. You wriggled even closer to him. “You have one more show, babe,” you whispered against his lips.
“One more,” he repeated.
“So make it the best one yet.”
***
A/N: Just a quick little blurb ahead of the final show 😭 Would love to hear what you think!
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3416 · 6 days
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maybe this is just my frustration with being forced to watch mitchless hockey but last year's push to the playoffs felt genuine - there were multiple trades made for players that clearly added value and kicked the end of the season into high gear (we got ror and had that electric game against buffalo when anything felt possible). this year has just felt so bleh bc we've known about the glaring gaps in depth scoring and the blue line since the beginning of the season and then it just got worse throughout the season and now we haven't had anything to address it - it's hard to see genuine hope for this team and it feels like a slog of hot streaks and disconnected play in between. i watch them bc the core does incredible record-breaking things almost every game but it's hard to belive in a team that's really not that exciting or can barely hold their own in some cases, other than the core.
i agree to an extent!! maybe it's bc last year was my first full year really paying attention to hockey too and everything was shiny and new, but i had a really good time and then. kyle leaving hit and a lot of the old room guys left and it just....... idk. i needed last summer for a reset and i went into this year hopeful but. it's been a disappointment in a lot of ways.
as for the playoffs part... i mean, i just convince myself the leafs are gonna win the cup until they don't so lfksdjlf it's easy for me to be like go leafs ! ! ! but i'm definitely not having as much fun or putting as much stake in the overall team success as i was last year. the fact that they won their first playoff series in decades last year was SO special and cannot be replicated or outdone or relived unless they win a cup now, which is a tall ask esp with this lineup. i definitely care less about this team on the whole and have less belief in them than i did which is... fine. they also feel less like a team. maybe every year i'll just care less and less or maybe brad will do something over the summer that's exciting or, idk. the fandom in general has really detracted from it for me too this year, and i just care less/feel actively annoyed by more and maybe that's a me thing or maybe the average age of ppl everywhere is staying put pretty low and i'm just getting too old for some of this but. can't wait to get a break this year, that's all lol
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uluvjay · 5 months
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threesome w mitch and auston
- 🧍🏻‍♀️
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Auston Matthews x fem reader! x Mitch Marner
Best friends share everything right?
Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(use protection), oral(m receiving), cursing, slight degradation, praising, risky sex, getting caught, I cant think of anymore.
Sorry for any errors!
Austons hand covered her mouth doing his best to keep her pathetic moans from spilling out and revealing what exactly they were doing in their basement.
The couple had lied and said they were running down to grab a few more bottles of wine for their large group of guests upstairs-but in reality Auston had taken her down there to fuck her stupid.
Hearing the squeak of the hinges from the door atop the carpeted stairs Auston leaned into the girls ear; whom was bent over the sectional that rested in front of the projector screen.
“If you get us caught so help me god you won’t be able to walk straight for a week, understood?” He questioned and the clench of the girls cunt around his cock was all he needed as an answer.
“Guys? You’ve been gone a while, everything okay?” They heard the all to familiar voice of Mitch call as his feet made their way down the stairs.
The couple tried to make up an excuse to keep him on the stairs but they were to late as the Brunette had already caught sight of them in a very unholy situation.
“Guys what the hell!” Mitch exclaimed at his friends, however his eyes never moved away.
Auston was about to yell at his closest friend to go back upstairs and act like this never happened but the feeling of his girlfriend’s cunt clenching around him, had a smirk appearing on his face.
And as he looked over to his best to find a slight blush covering his pale cheeks and eyes glued to where the couple connected under the skirt of his girlfriends flowy dress, another idea popped into his head.
“Mitch you either gotta stay or go back up stairs, your call but make it quick before she starts acting like a brat” the tattoo covered man spoke
“I-uh-what?” Mitch stumbled over himself, making sure he heard the man correctly.
“You can either stay or leave, but hurry up and make your pick” Auston shrugged as he began moving his hips again.
Auston smirked at the cry that escaped your throat as Mitch made his was further into the room, hesitantly trying to find where he should slot himself.
“Why don’t you show Mitchy how good that mouth is baby? Huh? Show him how good you can be” he cooed at her.
“Okay” she blushed and motioned for Mitch to come stand in front of her.
When Mitch finally managed to move his body into range of the girls hands she pulled him even closer by his belt and began removing it.
Pulling his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out the girl was met with a delightful sight. Mitch was about the same length as Auston just a tad bit skinner.
She worked his semi hard cock for a moment while Auston regained a pace behind her, his hands holding her hips.
A shudder ran down Mitches spine as her tongue finally came into contact with the head of his cock, slowly swirling around the angry tip.
“Fuck” the blue eyed man groaned as she finally took him into her mouth all the way, her cheeks hollowed as she began moving back and forth.
Her moans from Austons movements behind her were vibrating his cock and sending shocks through his body.
“Such a desperate thing for taking both of us” Auston hissed.
“M’ not desperate” she babbled as she pulled away from Mitches cock for some much needed air.
“Mhm sure” Auston laughed as he slowed his pace and fucked her deeper, coaxing an almost to loud moan that was muffled by Mitch pulling her back to his cock.
His hands tangled into her locks, guiding her movements this time round. Tears had began to stream down the girls face, pretty little tracks of her bleeding mascara messing up her flawlessly done makeup.
“Such a good mouth” Mitch groaned as a slight gag came from your throat.
Auston smirked at the sight of his friend, hands tangled in your locks while his head was thrown back with a clenched jaw and shut eyes.
“M’ getting close” she pulled away from Mitches cock for a moment to speak.
“Can feel you clenching me, c’mon and come for us pretty girl” Auston encouraged, feeling his own knot forming in his stomach.
You could came with a hard shudder at his words, the feeling of him splitting you open and Mitch taking you from the front was just too much for you to hold off.
“Shit, I’m gonna come pretty girl” Mitch groaned as he felt his thighs begin to shake and his thrusts become matched to austons-who was also coming up on his high.
“I’m gonna fill you and you’re gonna swallow Mitches come, understand baby?” Auston spoke, his thrusts becoming hurried and sloppy as he felt that euphoric feeling creeping up faster and faster.
“I understand” you breathed for a second before Mitch was pulling your mouth back onto his cock.
Within seconds both men reached their highs within milliseconds of one another, Auston growled as he filled your hot core with his cum.
Mitches thighs shook as he looked down at your fucked out face that was covered in sweat, spit, and tears-he didn’t think you’d ever looked prettier.
Slowly pulling out of her both men tucked themselves away before helping the girl to her feet, Auston ran a hand through her hair before lightly speaking.
“Gonna go tell everyone you got sick and then we can move this into the bedroom.”
“To the bedroom?” You questioned, and while your voice waivered the way your eyes lit up at his words had Auston knowing that you wanted nothing more than to get both men into your bed.
“Yeah, think mitchy should get to feel how tight that pretty little cunt of yours is” he smirked before taking off up the stairs and making sure you were safe in Mitches arms.
-
@luvmatth3ws
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lcandothisallday · 10 months
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auston leaving the arena and noticing you and your friends waiting outside to meet the players or sum and he’s literally like love at first sight and starts flirting and gets ur number 😭 lmao for us realistic toronto girlies obvs - ⛽️
hehe obvs😋❤️ thanks for feeding into my delusions🥰 Auston Matthews x f!reader
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You stood next to your friends, your hands in your jacket pocket as you shivered from the cold. It was near the start of the season and the weather in Toronto was getting colder by the day--fitting for the sport, but not for you as you stood outside the arena in hopes of meeting the players.
"Guys--I don't know if it's worth it anymore--"
"Y/N I don't think you get it," your friend Emily started. "If I don't meet Mitch Marner before I go back to BC--I'm gonna dig my own grave," she said with such seriousness in her voice--yet her teeth were also chattering from the cold. Emily had moved to BC soon after she got her masters and she was only back in town for a little bit for her mom's birthday and to watch the game.
She was a huge fan to say the least. Growing up watching the NHL and even playing for her local girls team. Unlike you--you had only got into it recently, never having that same influence while growing up.
"You can't reason with a girl in love," your other friend Olivia mused with a laugh. You merely roll your eyes and dig your hands further into your pocket.
"I just don't think they're gonna come ou--oh my god," you breath our, your jaw dropping as you see two men resembling Mitch and Auston in the distance coming out of a back door.
"Oh my God!!" Emily screeched, jumping up and down. "Miiiitchhh!"
Mitch being the ever sweet golden retriever he is, excitedly walked over while Auston begrudgingly dragged behind him with a sigh. He was tired, his body aching from a harsh slam he took and all he wanted was to grab dinner with Mitch at their favourite restaurant before going home and collapsing into his bed with Felix by his side.
Mitch with a wide smile, approached Emily, feeding off of her excitement as he spoke to her and entertained her with a selfie.
Meanwhile, Auston was about to let out an annoyed breath when his eyes wandered over to you, unable to tear his gaze away. He was captivated by your beauty, your warmth radiating even in the chilly evening air. As Mitch continued chatting with Emily, Auston excused himself, making his way toward you where you stood off to the side watching your friends interact.
"So you're not a fan of Mitchy's?" he teased in question playfully, causing your eyes to widen in panic.
"Oh no I--I am!" you stutter in defence, your cheeks burning up at the accusation. "I'm just a new fan and didn't wanna seem like...a fake one," you admit bashfully, looking away.
Auston smirked, his confidence radiating off of him as he watched you squirm. If he was honest, he thought it was adorable and he loved how sincere you sounded.
"You didn't grow up with the game I'm assuming?" he asked, wanting to know more about you.
"Yeah...my parents are from a hot country...hockey is probably the last sport they'd be interested in," you say with a laugh. "So that's why my knowledge is limited."
He laughed and gave you a slight nod. "Well, you don't have to worry about that with me," Auston replied, leaning casually against the wall next to you. "I won't judge you for being a new fan. In fact, I think it's great that you're getting into the sport."
You couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement as Auston continued to flirt with you. His charming smile and the way he effortlessly carried himself made it hard for you to resist his charm.
"Thanks," you replied, trying to hide your growing smile. "You're a lot more cute in person," you breathed out, your cheeks heating up immensely at your admission.
Auston's smirk widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, so now we're moving on to compliments, huh?" he teased, his voice laced with playful sarcasm. "Well, I have to say, you're not so bad yourself. Actually, you're more than just cute. You're downright stunning."
Your heart fluttered at his words, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You had never expected Auston Matthews, a professional hockey player and known heartthrob, to flirt with you so openly. It was an exhilarating feeling, and you found yourself getting caught up in the moment.
As you go to respond, Mitch walks over and interrupts. "Hey--I made the rounds. We can go now."
You reluctantly tore your gaze away from Auston, feeling a mix of disappointment and anticipation for what could have been. Mitch's interruption reminded you that this encounter was likely just a fleeting moment, and you had to make the most of it.
"It was nice meeting you," you smiled.
Mitch looked between the two of you with an amused smirk and a raised eyebrow, catching on to the flirty tension. "Wait--aren't you gonna introduce me to your new friend?" he teased.
At that, Auston's eyes widened. "Shit--I never caught your name," he pointed out with a bashful smile. Mitch rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Y/N," you giggled in response.
"Did you at least get her number?" Mitch asked, Auston shaking his head no. "Dude! It's like you have no game!"
"I was working on it!" Auston exclaimed.
Mitch scoffed and shook his head in feign disappointment as he snatched Auston's phone out of his hand, unlocking it and opening up his contacts. "No clearly you've lost your skills and I gotta be your dating coach now," he continued to tease, before he handed the phone to you to put in your information.
You continued to giggle as you did just that while Auston blushed madly.
As you entered your name and number into Auston's phone, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. Mitch's playful teasing added to the lighthearted atmosphere, and you found yourself growing more comfortable in their presence.
"There you go, Auston," you said with a mischievous smile as you handed the phone back to him. "Now you can call or text me anytime."
Auston's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, but he flashed you a grateful smile. "Thanks, Y/N. I'll definitely be in touch."
Mitch raised an eyebrow and nudged Auston. "See, buddy? It's not that hard."
Auston rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "Yeah, yeah, Coach Marner. I'll try to step up my game."
You looked off to the side, noticing your friends were now the ones waiting for you. "I think I've gotta go...like I said, it was nice meeting you," you smiled, taking the courage to step forward and press a light kiss to his cheek. "You guys played amazing tonight," you say softly and with sincerity.
As you pulled away from the gentle kiss on Auston's cheek, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his eyes, followed by a genuine smile. "I'll text you."
"I'll hold you to it, Matthews."
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swissboyhisch · 5 months
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Halloween Surprise
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Pairing: Matthew Knies x Marner!Reader
Summary: The team's Halloween party seemed like the perfect time to reveal to everyone who you were dating.
Word Count: 2546
Warnings: Alcohol, blood, a little bit of 18+ content towards the end.
THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD
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Halloween. Your favourite holiday by far. Growing up, your parents decorated the house with tons of decorations and your mum always went all out with family costumes. When you moved to Toronto to live with your older brother and his girlfriend, you were always in charge of organising the Halloween parties or costumes. 
And nothing changed. As soon as it was announced it was Mitch’s turn to host the team’s Halloween party, he came straight to you. It was your job to organise everything but luckily, since Mitch will be busy with the start of the hockey season, Steph is more than happy to help you. It would give her something to do. And it means the two of you can spend more time together. 
First thing was to create a list of people who would get the invites. Then organise a time and place for the party. Mitch and Steph said they’re happy to have it at their place instead of hiring out a place. Due to game schedule conflict, the party was going to take place on the Friday before Halloween.
Once the who, what, when and where was decided, Steph and you designed the invites and sent those out as soon as possible. Next was the entertainment. You had a couple Halloween Playlists from previous parties you had hosted so you just said you would bring your audio system and set it up around the house and use Spotify. Food wise, Steph said that she was thinking the two of you make the food the couple days leading up to it. She loved to cook, and you loved to bake so it was the perfect pair. Drinks were just going to be bins with cans of alcohol and soft drink in them and pitchers of cocktails. Then it was just costumes for you guys and decorating the house and backyard.
“What are we going to dress as?” Asked Mitch as he joined the planning party of you and Steph on the couch. 
You just smirk, “You two are going to be a ken and barbie variant. It fits so perfectly.”
Steph let out a squeal of excitement. It really was perfect for them. “Oh my god, yes!”
“And Auston is going to be Alan. A permanent third wheel.”
“What are you going to do?”
“It’s a surprise,” You retorted to your brother. As a fashion major, you had an endless number of options. But one in particular was the number one choice. It wasn’t hard but it was a fun one. “You’ll see at the party.”
Then it was onto planning the couple’s costumes. For Steph, you were thinking of a cute pink satin dress that stopped mid high. Low cut but not as low as you could go. A pair of cute white heels and white accessories. Her hair is in waves with pink makeup and hints of silver. A white clutch to top it off.
Mitch, luckily, will go with whatever you choose. Which is going to be matching pink pants, a white button down not fully buttoned and a pink satin scarf in the pocket. That will be made from the same fabric as the dress. His hair will be styled and maybe you can convince him to have a little makeup on.
Auston was a little harder, but he was going to be dressed in blue pants that are the same as Mitch’s and shirt striped like Alan’s sweater in the movie. A permanent third wheel who you question their involvement in a relationship.
You lived in an apartment in the city, close to where you work. Since Mitch and Steph got married, well a bit before that, you managed to find an apartment and skedaddle out of there. So, you found yourself the night before the party organising your bag full of your costume to take over to Mitch’s place early in the morning. It was late but it had to be done now and you had gone to the game against the Stars.
Your apartment's buzzer going off surprised you. No-one was expected. When you peaked at the camera footage, the familiar boy dressed in the same suit as earlier was standing there waving at the camera. You were quick to let him in and eagerly await his arrival. 
“Hey,” Matt greeted as you let him into your apartment. Pressing a kiss to your lips. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? What are you doing here at this time of night?”
He shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it up on your coat rack, “Was on my way back to John’s from the arena and thought I’d stop in.”
“And does John know where you are?” You question. 
“Yes, I told him,” Matt whispers, his lips brushing against yours softly. His warm breath mixes with your own. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
You had to shower so despite Matt already showering at the arena he took up the opportunity to join in on your naked task. The two of you took a little longer than necessary but it was all in good fun. Now you were cuddled up in your bed with Coraline on the tv.
“Seriously?” Matt chuckles when he sees the movie title card. 
You just shrugged innocently, “it’s a favourite at this time of year.”
“This time of year?” He laughs harder knowing the truth behind that statement. “You mean any time of year.”
The next morning you were up early regardless of Matt’s whining when your alarm went off. The brunette tried to keep you in bed a little longer, but you wanted to get ready and head over to Mitch’s. The boys had a morning skate so you knew Matt would have to get up anyway. No sympathy from you.
“I’ll see you tonight. You have your costume right?” You mumble. 
Matt hums, pressing a reassuring kiss on your lips. “Yes, I have everything. I get dressed then just have to style my hair and splatter some blood from that bottle over my face and hands.”
“Perfect.” You pressed a kiss to his lips one final time and headed out the door. “Lock up on your way out!”
Steph and you had done most of the cooking and baking yesterday. The big decorations were already done as well, just the main decorations and little bits and pieces were to be put in place. 
The drive to your brother’s went quicker than you expected. But it was welcomed as you and Mitch crossed paths; him heading to practice and you arriving. He gave you a quick hug before you retreated into the house where Steph was eagerly waiting.
“Let’s get this started,” She says excitedly, pressing play on her phone.
Halloween themed songs started playing through the music system you guys had set up the previous day. You two finished off the food first giving it time to rest and cool. Then onto decorations. Starting with the inside, you decorated the entryway, then lounge room and dining room before finishing with the backyard.
“I think we are finished,” Steph states happily, looking over the pair of you’s hard work.
With a glance at your phone, it was 3pm. Perfect time to slowly start to get ready. “I’m gonna go have a shower and start getting ready.”
“Good idea.”
You went straight to your old room that had an ensuite and started to lay out your outfit. A pair of black booty shorts, a black lace corset bra, a blood splattered white button down and a pair of fishnets. That was the basis of your costume. Then a mask that was the same as Matt’s, both lighting up blue.
First things first, shower and prep first before starting on your hair. Then onto make-up, pretty simple, before getting into your costume. The last touch was blood splattering over your make-up. When you finished getting ready, you went downstairs to make a cocktail for Steph and yourself.
“Oo, what’s on the menu?” Steph questions as she comes downstairs in her costume.
“You look so good!” Steph did a twirl for you. “Ah, I picked the perfect costume.”
At the mention of that, Mitch came down solidifying the choice. He was the perfect Ken. Complimenting Steph’s barbie. When he came into the kitchen, he looked you over. Looking at your costume. “What are you?”
“From the purge,” You answer. You poured two cocktails into nice glasses and slid it over to Steph. “Cheers to another successful Halloween.”
“Cheers.”
When you took your first sip, the doorbell rang. Mitch went to greet whichever teammate had arrived first. And knowing the team, it’s either Mitch’s boyfriend (Auston) or the captain and his wife.
“What’s up little Marns?” Auston greets as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “I like the costume.”
“Thanks Aus.”
The group all enjoyed the music that was playing and the alcohol while waiting for others. Soon Will and his girlfriend arrived dressed as Fred and Daphne from Scooby Doo. Penny joined the other two girls drinking cocktails while the boys sat around outside chatting.
“So, are you still talking to that guy?” Steph asks.
Penny immediately turns on you. “Guy? What guy?”
“Uh,” You stutter. Steph was the only person to know you were talking to a guy. But she didn’t know who he was. “Yeah, I’m still talking to the guy.”
“Who is he?” 
You shrug and go to answer the door as an excuse to leave the conversation. The person knocked at the door again as you walked down the hallway. 
“You will tell us sooner or later,” Steph calls from the kitchen.
The door opened to reveal Matthew, dressed exactly how you envisioned. God, he looked so good. Even with the blood splattered all over him. The brunette lifted his mask and smiled down at you. Well, more like smirked. 
“Heya babe,” he muttered, making sure to peek over your shoulder before pressing a kiss to your lips.
“Hey, you look good!”
“So do you.”
You shut the door behind him and lead him through to the kitchen. As soon as Steph took in Matthew’s costume, she knew exactly who you were talking to. Her eyes lit up as she ran to hug the boy. It was the first team event for Steph to meet the rookie player.
“Hi, welcome to the team,” Steph rushes out excitedly. She looked over the pair of you and your matching costumes. “How are you liking Toronto?”
“I have a good guide,” He replies, sending a small smile to the girl beside him.
“Where’s the captain?” Mitch asks when he sees Knies. 
You waited for your brother’s reaction but it seemed like it wasn’t clicking. Oh well, it will make sense at some point in his golden retriever brain. 
Matt shrugs, “He and Aryne were waiting on the babysitter.”
“Ah, come join the boys out back,” Mitch suggests, already making his way outside again. 
Steph lets out a chuckle, “We’ll see if it clicks for him at some point.”
Matt just shrugged again and kissed you once more and made his way to join his teammates outside on the patio. When the backdoor shut, Steph and Penny both turned and gave you a look.
“The rookie? Really?”
“He’s cute,” You argue.
The pair both agree with a laugh and start to ask you a billion questions. When did you meet him? Where? What was your first date? At the arena before a preseason game. Then he took you out for a late-night meal at a diner.
Soon the house was full of team members and staff dressed in every type of costume you could imagine. Funny, scary, awesome, iconic. You name it, someone is dressed in it. Everyone was mingling and snacking on all the things you and Steph had made during the week. 
“Hey,” Matt greets as he comes up to you talking to Aryne. 
Aryne smiled at the two of you dressed up together. “I love the costumes.”
“That was all her,” The brunette grinned. He pressed a kiss to your temple but soon was interrupted by a yell.
“What?!” You turn to where Mitch was standing with William and Auston. “No way.”
Steph was quick to drag Mitch inside, with the other two of the trio following suit. Luckily not many people had seen the scene created. Knowing your brother, if you and Matt delayed the conversation any longer, he’d come and drag you too in as well. 
“Let’s get this over with,” You mutter, slipping your hand into Matt’s.
As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, Mitch only paid attention to the joint hands. “Oh no, no, no.” He speeds up to you two and separates you both. “Not for the life of me are you dating a hockey player.”
“Come on Mitch.”
He shook his head. “No. I told mum and dad I’d protect you when you moved out here with me.”
“Mitch, I’m not 18 anymore. I’m a big girl. I can date who I want without your permission.”
Knowing he wasn’t going to convince you, he turned on Matthew. He got up in the rookie’s face. “And you! I told you that my sister was off limits!”
Matt couldn’t get in a word before you stepped in and pushed your brother a step back. But he was quick to pull you into his side. 
“Mitch,” Steph murmured.
“I’m serious about her,” Matt spoke up. “She’s perfect. Smart, beautiful, talented. She’s not your sister, she’s just her own, amazing person.”
You teared up. That last point he said was an insecurity you had shared with him. People only want to be with you because of your brother. “Matty.”
“She’s my person,” Matt stated. Making sure to look your brother in the eyes to convey how serious he was. 
“Let them be Mitch,” Auston chuckles, “They like each other. If he hurts her we can beat him later.”
“Fine,” your brother huffed. 
You skipped up to him and hugged him. “Thanks Mitchy. Love you!”
Without another word, you intertwined your fingers with Matt’s and dragged him to your old room.
“Door stays open!” Mitch screams when he realises where you were going. 
You didn’t listen to your brother’s order though. Matt made sure to slam the door loud enough for your brother to hear it over the music. When the door was closed, Matt immediately pulled off your mask from the top of your head before kissing you hard. 
“God you look so good,” He groaned “And your ass in those shorts.”
After making sure the door was locked, you pushed Matt onto the bed. First piece of clothing to come off was the button down. Revealing the lacy corset for all to see. For Matt to see. 
“Damn baby.”
You giggle and dance along to the faint sound of ‘I Put A Spell On You’. Matt grabs your hips guiding you close and flipped the script, making you on the bed and leaned over you. His hand gripped onto your hip as he rubbed his hard dick against your pussy. You let out a quiet moan which only spurred the man on more.
“Yeah, I’m gonna make you scream,” He smirks.
Matthewkniews posted on Instagram!
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Liked by mapleleafs, johntaveres and others
matthewknies: What a killer halloween 🔪 tagged: y/nmarner
user: Holyyyyy. This was not on my 2023 bingo card
mitchmarner: Still not over this
y/nmarner: did I ask for your opinion?
stephmarner: be nice you two
user: KNIES OMG
user: new kink unlocked Liked by y/nmarner
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TAG LIST
@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings
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daisyblog · 5 months
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Cherry
Our Story Masterlist Summary: How Cherry was made.
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Harry knew he had to get back to some sort of normality. He'd spent the last few months on tour, trying to work on his emotions and still trying to put a good show for his fans. It was hard.
It was hard for him without YN by his side. It was hard for him when they weren't talking right now. They hadn't spoken for a few weeks now, their last conversation was strained and it seemed that they silently agreed that maybe they needed to stop texting right now.
From the One Direction days, right up until his first solo album, Harry always felt inspired to write. It was his passion, the way he enjoyed expressing himself and music was his thing. But since their break up, Harry felt a lot, but trying to put into words was just something that he couldn't do right now.
He had a studio session with his team, he thought it was a waste of time because he had already explained to his manager, Jeff, that he wasn't in the right frame of mind to write, but Jeff and the team persuaded to join them, even if it was just to mess around with some of the instruments and sound board to see what they could do.
Harry sensed a tense and awkward atmosphere as he walked through the studio door, where everyone else had arrived before him. He noticed the look Mitch and Jeff gave each other and how Sammy and Tyler focused their eyes on the recording deck in front of them.
"What?" Harry continued to eye each of them, waiting to hear why they were all acting guilty, almost like they knew something he didn't.
Jeff broke the silence of the room. "Have you been online today?".
Harry shook his head no, confusion still evident on his face. "No..why?".
Jeff eyed Mitch quickly before he broke the news to his friend. "There's a photo of YN...and a man in a gallery in Paris".
Harry's heart felt like it was going to escape his body. It was thumping hard against his chest. He'd always been the jealous type, he'd get annoyed if another man checked YN out in front of him or attempted to chat her up, but this wasn't just jealousy, this was like he'd been hit by a bus. Was she really moving on?
Swallowing his emotions, Harry broke the tense silence. "Um..do we know who he is?". He asked his manager, knowing he would have made a few phone calls this morning.
"His name is Jack..his parents own the gallery they were at..it was their opening night". Harry felt his stomach twist again, all he could think about was YN and Jack and the fact that she had already met his parents.
Harry nodded his head in response, not quite knowing what to say. He just wanted to know, how they met, where they met, did she love him, did they have the same conversations they used to have, did she laugh at his jokes?
"Do you think he may just be a friend or something?" Mitch, who didn't get too involved in anything that wasn't his business, questioned Harry. He had known YN for a few years, and to him he just thought this was out of character for her. He witnessed how in love the couple are, the way YN would look at him with heart in eyes, the way they would say 'I love you' whenever they were leaving the room or how supportive YN had been when the guitarist first met them.
Harry let out a sarcastic chuckle. "I've met all her friends...and I've never heard of him". It was true, Harry had met YN's small group of friends. YN always said how small her circle was because she only trusted a small amount of people. "I'm gonna go and get a coffee, I'll be back in a bit".
Harry took a small walk around the area, needing to get some air. He felt like so many things were going through his mind. He didn't want YN to be with anyone else, he wanted to be the one to hold her hand, tell her how beautiful she is, tell her that he loves her.
Once Harry had arrived back at the studio, the four men was surprised to see that he had actually come back after the news they had shared this morning. They were even more surprised when Harry instructed Mitch to play a slow melody on the guitar. But they all did what Harry asked and once Harry began to sing some lyrics, they had realised that Harry was expressing his feelings and emotions through song.
Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't you call him what you used to call me
Harry thought about how he and YN had always had little pet names for each other, mostly being 'baby' or 'bubs". He couldn't help but think about YN calling Jack these names. He was also aware that they weren't talking right now so it made things feel even more intense for him.
I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress Take it as a compliment
YN was smiling wildly in the photo at the gallery, Harry could tell it was her real smile and one that he had been lucky to see many time over the years. Of course he wanted to see her happy, but not without him and with another man. As he was getting ready this morning, he couldn't help but reach for the pink beanie that sat in the drawer, one that YN had left behind and the one that was currently hiding his curls.
Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't you call him what you used to call me
Harry re-sung the first verse, wanting to repeat the message loud and clear.
I, I just miss I just miss your accent and your friends Did you know I still talk to them? Does he take you walking round his parents' gallery?
He missed her loudness, he missed her laugh, he missed everything about her, even her thick accent. But the more he thought about YN, the more he visualised the photo of her and Jack so the last line came out without thought as he sung.
---
It was later that evening that Harry was back home by himself. He'd thought about his day and how everything changed so quickly for him.
He knew he was being cruel to himself, sat staring at the photo of YN at the gallery. He couldn’t help but notice how her eyes crinkled as she was mid laugh or how she was wearing her favourite black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. 
To distract himself he decided to go for a night time run, something he used to do when he couldn’t sleep or had something on his mind. As he run around the area near his home in LA, knowing the time difference between LA and England he wondered if YN was awake not able to sleep or if she had started her day early. 
Arriving back at his house, Harry showered and changed into some comfy clothes, he got into bed and out of habit glanced at the space next to him. An empty space where YN and Teddy were usually cuddled up. 
What surprised him was the sound of his pinging on the bedside table. He reached over and seeing the name across the screen made his heartbeat faster.
YN: Hey! Can we talk? x
Harry wasn’t sure if he was happy, relived or scared. Of course he wanted to talk to her, he’d do anything to have her back in his arms. But was this the talk where she told him it was officially over between them both.
Not wasting another moment, he pressed the phone button next to YN’s name and waited to hear her voice. 
“Hello”. YN’s voice was quiet, almost like she was trying to not to wake anyone. 
“Uh hey”. Harry was nervous. He didn’t know what to expect. 
“Sorry…I hope I didn’t wake you”. YN apologised.
Harry’s fingers began to play with the loose cotton on the duvet as he spoke. “N-no…of course not”.
There was a slight pause in conversation, almost like they weren’t quite sure what to say. 
“I…I wanted to explain the photo you may have seen-“. Harry recognised the nerves in YN’s voice. 
Harry interrupted. “YN…it’s okay..you don’t need to explain yourself to-“.
“Harry-“.
“-me…you can date whoever you want to date”. Harry continued to ramble, almost trying to sound unbothered about the whole thing.
“Harry…it’s not what it looks like-“.
Once again Harry didn’t let YN finished explaining. “You don’t need to tell me”.
“Harry…for fook sake let me finish”. Harry remained silent. “I’m trying to explain that Jack, who’s in the photo is Mia’s boyfriend…Mia invited me along because she was nervous and the media have twisted it”.
Harry has never felt relief like it. He wanted to jump up and down in excitement, but instead the smile was back on his face. 
When Harry didn’t respond, too happy about the news YN just shared, YN grew nervous. “Harry?”.
“Oh..oh sorry…I-I…I’m not going to lie…I’m so fucking happy to hear that”. Harry left put a chuckle, YN giggled on the other end of the phone at his honestly.
“So you really thought I would be dating someone”. YN decided this was the time to question Harry.
“Uh…uh…No…well maybe”.
“Harry….you know I still care about you…I was actually going to ask if you wanted to maybe go for a coffee or something next week…I’m flying out to LA to stay with Louis for a bit”.
Harry’s excitement started to grow. YN wanted to see him, she was flying out to LA next week, she made the first step. He couldn’t help but get hopeful that this was his chance to win her back.
“Yeah..yeah…I’d really love that”. Harry tried to stay calm and not give too much away.
“Cool…I’ll leave you to get some sleep ‘cause I know it’s late there…I’ll send you some details once I arrive”.
“That’ll be good…have a safe flight”.
“Goodnight bu-“. YN almost let out the little pet name she was used to saying. “Harry”.
As they both hung up, Harry whispered “Goodnight baby”.
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