#harry should’ve been more mad and i stand by that

[padfootastic]

hello miss padfootastic, today I am thinking about godfather Harry who would move mountains for Teddy, when Remus never moved mountains for Harry. :(

yES!!! miss imp ur so so right for this

i don’t care how ooc it might be but i truly fully believe teddy was a traumatised harry’s salvation postwar. he kept that boy alive. physically AND mentally. harry will literally do anything for him and nothing is ever too big or too much for his godson.

i’m thinking of—harry, parenting teddy, wondering about how easy it is (it’s not, really. he’s a child bringing up another child. but take away the nappy changes and the constant crying and the keeping a living being other than yourself alive part, and it really is easy. bc he loves parenthood. loves teddy. so much) and wondering why remus never wanted this. how he could have given it up so easily. it’s honestly just really sad? like makes him hold teddy tight and never let go? primarily i think he just pities remus at that point.

i can ALSO see harry being offended, not on his behalf, but primarily on teddy’s. because this wonderful, amazing child should’ve not had his father attempt to walk out on him, shouldn’t have had to grow up an orphan but that’s what it is. i’ve only read one fic w a similar premise but i rly need more where harry is just. mad at remus postwar for his treatment of teddy lmao.

#teddy lupin #harry potter #side note i read a fic once where harry says ‘u saved my life. we’re even now’ #and teddy’s like ??? #and harry’s like ‘after the war’ #and it’s all very sweet #but that’s basically the vibe #can also imagine him being a helicopter parent tbh #his experiences shaping him into what he wished he had as a child etc etc #also really really need remus to be. Treated. like the not great guardian he is #like bro ur bestf died and his kid is left w/o anyone who cared for him #ur telling me u won’t even make one measly visit??? #not even as a benevolent stranger? #get outta here w that shit #harry should’ve been more mad and i stand by that #i GET why he wasn’t. truly. but that doesn’t satisfy my mean lil heart lol #pen’s asks

[tomholland1996simp]

Drunk || Holland sister

Summary: (Request) Hi I love your imagines! Could you make one where y/n is like 15-16 years old and goes to a party and gets a little too drunk. Her brothers find out and are a bit mad as like she drunk and maybe vaped?

You knew your parents would kill you if they fount out you was really going to a party and not your friends house. You turned down the offer at first, until you found out the boy you liked, Jake, was going to be there. It wouldn’t hurt to go to a party for a few hours, right? That’s what you thought.

You dressed into your black dress, applying more makeup than you usually would. Luckily you was getting ready at your friends house, as it would be hard without anyone questioning you at home. “You look hot” Your best friend, Rosie, told you whilst you looked into the mirror.

“Thanks, you look incredibly hot too” You smiled looking at your gorgeous best friend, she didn’t want to go to this party either, it was all your other friends idea. Once taking a few photos together, you both waited for your ride to pick you both up.

You took a drag from your vape, inhaling the air before blowing it out. You only vaped sometimes, not all the time. Mostly because you didn’t want your brothers or parents to find out, you only really did it to fit in with everyone else around. Your other friend picked you and Rosie up ten minutes later, the drive not being too long.

When you arrived at the party, loud music was all you could hear. There was a lot of teenagers and some people older than you here. You got the uneasy feeling first, you knew you should’ve just gone home.

“Omg, y/n, Rosie! Come let’s get you guys a drink!”

That’s how it started out, now after a few drinks the alcohol started to kick in. You felt free though, you felt really good drinking. Recently you had been stressed from school and other problems, so this really helped you to be alive. Next thing you know, your trying to find Jake, hoping to talk to him. However, when you get to him, you see him making out with another girl in the corner of your room.

Your head starts to spin as you try walk away to find the nearest bathroom. “Y/n are you okay?” Rosie ran towards the bathroom with you, locking the door behind her. “He kissed someone else” You slurred whilst crying.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, he’s a dickhead anyways” Rosie comforts you whilst you cry into her arms. After five minutes you had calmed down wanting to drink more.

“I need more drink” You stand up, wiping your left over tears wanting to feel the burning sensation of the vodka. “No more y/n, you need to go home. You can’t stay here or at mine like this, sorry” She grabs your arm but you move away from her, taking another hit from your vape. The smoke making you feel better.

Rosie then decided to call your brothers, only wanting her best friend to be safe. “Hello” She spoke hearing Toms voice in the phone. “Hi Tom, it’s Rosie, y/n’s friend. Listen I need you to pick her up we’re at a party-“ She said before hearing him getting mad into the phone. Tom told her to send the address and he will pick her up.

Toms POV

Tom was sitting with his brothers in the living room, them all drinking their beers whilst chatting away. When suddenly his phone went off, Y/n was calling him. It was late at night so he was a bit worried that it was something important, he knew you was staying at a friends.

“hello” He heard a random girl speak on the phone making him confused, not missing the loud music in the background. “Hello? Who’s this?” He asked.

“Hi Tom, it’s Rosie, y/n’s friend. Listen I need you to pick her up we’re at a party-“ Tom cut Rosie off, fuming with his stupid sister.

“What the fuck- Rosie, just send me the address, please.” He added before hanging up the phone and grabbing his car keys.

“What up mate?” Harry asked watching his brother quickly put his shoes on.

“Y/n is at a party and she probably drunk or some shit for her friend to call me” Tom huffed putting his coat on, the other brothers moving around not wanting to miss seeing their fifteen year old sister drunk. They all left the house, jumping into Toms car, Paddy being in the front.

Tom typed the address Rosie had sent him, finding out it wasn’t too far. Once he parked outside the house the party was held, he opened the car door instantly, slamming it behind him. Sam and Paddy deciding to stay in the car and wait for the other boys to get their baby sister.

Y/N POV

You regret everything. All you wanna do is go home, you couldn’t find Rosie anywhere. After the next few shots you were more tipsy than before. You wanted to forget about Jake and the stupid girl he was kissing, you wanted to feel alive.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N” You heard from behind you, making your heart stop for a minute. Quickly coughing the smoke from your mouth, knowing he has caught you.

You slowly turn around, trying to act innocent. “Oh hi Tom..and harry, what are you doing here?” You fake chuckle, trying to hid the vape.

However Tom noticed, grabbing your hand and taking the vape out of it. “What the fuck, Y/N! Your fucking vaping, do you know how bad that is for you? And your drinking, your 15!” Tom yelled some people noticing making you embarrassed. All you did is walked passed him, trying to hold in your tears and finding the car parked outside the house, getting into the back.

To your luck, Sam and Paddy were in the car.

“Bring the whole crew why don’t you” You sigh, not realising that your words come out a bit slurred. Tom then walked to the driver seat, slamming the door and you sliding over into the middle so Harry could sit beside you.

“Why’s there a vape in your hand?” Paddy asked taking the vape from Toms hand to look at it. “Ask y/n back there” Tom didn’t start the car, just turned around to look at you. He then took the vape from Paddy, throwing it outside, it landing on the ground.

“Y/n this isn’t like you, you never do this shit…well I mean that we know of you don’t” Sam said throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side a bit.

They must think that your a disappointed, you thought. “I’m sorry” Now tears fell from your eyes, there eyes soften. That’s one thing your brother hate, seeing you cry. “I just wanted to fit it, and all because of some stupid boy. Then I got mad as he was with another girl, I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be disappointed.” You cry into Sam’s shoulder, mostly hoping Tom didn’t think of you disappointed.

“Hey, Y/n- look at me.” Tom spoke softly, you could just about see him. “You don’t need to drink or vape for you to fit in. If your friends make you do that then their not your friends. They shouldn’t make you do bad things that you know your not allowed to do. Just because they do it doesn’t mean you should.” He smiled at you.

“Were not disappointed, just annoyed a little” Harry rubbed your arm.

“Yeah we’re just a little pissed, your our only sister, our baby sister. Can’t let anything happen to you. Plus that boys a dick, you don’t need to think of boys, not until your twenty” Tom joked wiping a tear from your face.

You sadly chuckle a little as he begins to start the car. Then you felt it, “Wait, i’m gonna be sick.”

I don’t like this. Sorry.

#tom holland #fluff #like #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom #tomhollandsimp #imagine #oneshot #hollandaccount #hollandsister #tomhollandsister #sisterimagine #sam holland #paddy holland #harry holland #tomsister #tom holland fandom #thomas holland #hollandsister imagine

[hiinnys]

can’t turn back now (i’m haunted)

(hi! this is for @cruelsummer-ficfest ; my song was haunted (acoustic version)! any line in italics is from the song or some variation on the lyric! also on ao3!)

it shouldn’t surprise ginny. what she knows is coming. she’s known they walk a fragile line. she’s known it all this time. but logic doesn’t stop the headaches she gets when she thinks about it for too long; when she looks at this thing she and harry have been painfully careful not to call a relationship too deeply. logic doesn’t stop her blood from freezing when she catches that faraway look he gets in his eyes sometimes, like this was all a big mistake he should’ve known better than to make.

she wants to be mad at him. she wants to rage at him; scream, cry, throw a fit for treating them as something so disposable; for being so careless with her. but she can’t. because that’s not what he’s doing is it? it’s getting dark and it’s all too quiet and he’s just trying to stay afloat like the rest of them. now more than ever, everyone seems to look at harry like he’s some miracle bestowed on them, some chosen thing, who can just snap his fingers and set the world to right. but ginny knows better. knows he’s as lost as the rest of them - even if he won’t tell her what exactly it is he’s lost about. knows that this thing that he’s going to do with them - the destruction he’s going to sow - sooner or later, is the only answer he can see - even if it’s so wrong, it’s laughable.

ginny debates begging him, whispering don’t leave me like this to him in between kisses, when her fingers are in his ridiculously messy hair and he’s breathing unsteadily, pupils blown wide open, looking at her like he’s getting drunk on her. like he’d do anything for her. but she cannot find it in her to taint those blissful moments. she debates wounding him, screaming i thought i had you figured out at him because she knows just how hard it’ll drive a knife into his heart. but she knows that heart - that wonderful, bleeding thing - and ginny cannot hurt it for the life of her. it’s not his fault that something’s gone terribly wrong; it’s not his fault she can’t turn back now; it’s not harry’s fault she’s haunted. harry’s not some great chosen one; he’s just a boy who’s trying his best to carry all the things the world has forced onto his shoulders, and ginny’ll give him that grace even if it kills her.

it finally comes the day they bury dumbledore. she does not rage. she does not scream or cry or throw a fit. ginny simply stands there and watches harry walk away from everything they had. and she hates herself just a little because she knows she still means every word she said to him. every sweet-nothing she whispered in his ear when he had her up against the greenhouse wall, lips on her neck. every half-baked wish she told him about when they were the last ones in the common room, sat on the ground, leaning on each other with the fire dying out in front of them. every gentle affirmation she gave him, hand over his heart, on his chest, down his arms, in his hair. every little thing she said to replace i love you. she doesn’t entirely know how long she stays glued to that spot, eyes still trained in the direction she watched him go, but it’s long enough for dean of all people to find her. he must see something in her, dean, because he tells her a joke, tries to take away her pain, and ginny thinks - for the briefest moment - that dean is far more than she ever gave him credit for. it’s replaced just as quickly as it forms, however, with the undeniable fact that - as far as ginny’s concerned - he’ll never hold a candle to harry. harry who, for all his faults, was the only person she ever actually wanted to hold on to, even if she was holding on to nothing now.

ginny knows, as everyone boards the train when term is well and truly over, that she’ll feel worse than this in the coming months. she sees it in him - in the way he ducks into the compartment they both thought they’d be sat in together this time around, in the way he glues himself to the corner of it, avoiding the watchful gazes surrounding him, emerald eyes instead focused on the parts of hogwarts visible through his window. harry’s never been one to sit still, and the only thing that was really keeping him at school this past year was dumbledore. and them, some small corner of herself screams. but dumbledore’s dead now, and they won’t finish what they started. not with the war this close; not with hogwarts they’d always known slipping away from them in real time. ginny knows that whatever it was that kept dragging him into dumbledore’s office all term will drag him away much farther now - farther from her than she even wants to imagine - and merlin only knows if he’ll be able to make it out; make it back to her. but she’s always know this, hasn’t she? they’d always walked a fragile line. she’d known it all this time. she just never ever thought she’d see it break.

#hinny #hinny fic #wow its been a minute #adding fuel to my taylor only writes for hinny agenda #haunting was not originally one of the songs on that list for me #but now it def is!! #that's enough from me; hope you enjoy!! #also wanted to take a moment to say: fuck jkr #this is an inclusive blog!

[messers-moony]

Secrets | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Reader

Summary: Y/n withholds her past from the Order of the Phoenix but it all comes loose after one eavesdropped conversation with Sirius.

Standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Twelve after cleaning up dinner was always a fun experience. The Aurors finally allowed themselves to relax, even if it was just for a moment. Everyone could feel the amount of ease in the room, including the children. Harry Potter always remained grateful for these moments to relax. But he was never far from the woman who raised him, Y/n Lupin.

Remus was having an animated conversation with Sirius, Nymphadora, and Mad-Eye. Meanwhile, Molly, Arthur, Y/n, and the kids all spoke together, just joking around. Y/n couldn’t believe that Harry was fifteen. It felt like yesterday when he had gotten spit up all over her shirt while she tried to feed him. It was astonishing to watch Harry grow into the man Lily and James always wanted.

“ Professor Lupin! “ The Weasley twins called in symphony making both Lupins turn their way, “ The female Professor Lupin. “ Fred specified, and Remus chuckled.

The twins pulled her away into a secluded corner, “ Did you get them? “ George queried, and Y/n scoffed, “ Of course, I did. What do you take me for? A liar? “

“ Absolutely not! “ Fred replied, “ They’re all in your room. Make good work of those fireworks. “ Y/n whispered, and both boys were jumping with joy.

They bowed, “ Only for you, Professor. “

Both boys ran off to presumably go and check their new items. Y/n chuckled at their antics when arms wrapped around her waist. A chin was rested on her right shoulder, and the scratch of scruff tickled her jaw. Caramel-brown hair fading and flecked with grey obscured part of her vision. Two hands were rested on her waist—the left hand adoring a very familiar ring.

“ What have you given those mischievous boys? “ Remus asked, “ Nothing. I’m not quite sure what you’re on about? “ Y/n answered, turning to face her husband.

His eyebrow quirked, “ Okay, I made a trip to a particular store. I got them some fireworks. “ Y/n informed, “ Fireworks? “ Remus questioned.

“ They’re magical fireworks. “ Y/n stated, “ The boys like to experiment, so I let them have their fun. “

“ And that’s why you refuse to give them detention. “ Remus rolled his eyes, “ I do give them detention! “ Y/n exclaimed, pouting slightly.

“ I lecture them about all the things they did wrong. “ Y/n added before Remus could speak, “ And then I tell them how to do it better. “ She mumbled.

Her husband laughed, “ Oh, there's the marauder in you, my dear. “

There was a prominent silence between them before Remus spoke up again, “ Have you told Harry about your former last name? “

“ No, I haven’t. “ Y/n swallowed, “ He doesn’t need to know. “

“ I think he’d like to know. “ Remus replied as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, “ I think he’d like to hear all the stories about your twin brother. “

She shook her head, “ Sirius can tell him. “

“ Sirius can’t tell him everything, love. “ Remus informed sweetly, “ Only you knew James Potter since he was born. “

“ I know, I just- it’s hard. “ Y/n bit her lower lip, “ I know, darling. “ Remus responded as he pulled her lower lip from her teeth with his thumb, gently.

They stared at each other for a moment before someone interrupted, “ Y/n, I think you should talk to Sirius. “ Molly informed, and she furrowed her eyebrows, “ He showed Harry the Black Family tree. “

Molly left, and Y/n kissed her husband on the cheek, “ Talk about this later. “ Y/n whispered, leaving him.

She walked around the house. Sirius was standing in the doorway, about to close the black wooden door. Y/n only stood a couple of feet away, but he was hesitant. He didn’t want to shut the door just yet. So much history laid on the wallpaper of the room. So many awful memories. Y/n laid a hand on his shoulder gently.

“ Come on. “ Y/n beckoned as she pulled him into the room, and he shut the door behind them, “ Colloportus. “ She muttered, locking the door.

Sirius stood in front of Regulus’s name, “ Go on, speak. “ Y/n said, and Sirius sighed.

“ It was hard. Losing him, I mean. Even though we didn’t have the greatest relationship, it still felt like I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected him. He was my little brother, for Merlin’s sake. “ Sirius ranted, “ Maybe if I stayed. Maybe if I took him with me that night, this would’ve never happened.

“ Losing a brother is hard. “ Y/n began, “ It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, but people die. People come and go. Truth be told, there isn’t much you can do about it. “

“ My brother wouldn’t have wanted me to live my life suffering. That’s why I married Remus even if he wasn’t by my side. Even if he wasn’t the one walking me down the aisle like he promised. “ Y/n continued, and tears streamed down Sirius’ face, “ Harry still doesn’t know. “

Sirius turned faster than a threatened spider, “ What? Haven’t you told him? “

“ No. He doesn’t know. I’m Y/n Lupin to him and everyone else aside from the adults. “ She shook her head, “ To be fair, it feels nice. “

“ Call me daft, but it feels nice not to be Pity Potter anymore. It feels nice to be Professor Lupin. “ Y/n shrugged, “ You raised him, and you lied to him. “ Sirius retorted.

“ I’m not lying to him; I’m just not telling him the entire truth. “ Y/n corrected, and Sirius turned back to the family tree, “ You were never Pity Potter. “ Sirius muttered.

Y/n chuckled, “ Everyone pitied me after they died. Poor Y/n Potter. She lost her parents at seventeen, lost her brother at twenty-one, became an unexpected parent at twenty-one with her brother's son. People didn’t have to say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ for me to see the pity in their eyes. “

“ When Regulus died, nobody even said I’m sorry. “ Sirius whispered, “ Nobody knew Regulus like you did. “ Y/n replied.

“ Regulus wasn’t meant to die. He shouldn’t have died. But he did, Sirius. “ Y/n stated, and Sirius turned to her with tear-filled eyes, “ And if your brother was anything like mine, he wouldn’t want you to sulk your entire life. He wouldn’t want you to ask yourself ‘what if’; he’d want you to live your life. “

She took steps in front of the crying man, her hands placed on his shoulders, “ Regulus Black and James Potter didn’t die because they wanted us to suffer. They died because they wanted us to live. “

“ So please. Live for them. Don’t let their death be in vain. “ Y/n said, taking Sirius in for a hug which he returned gratefully, “ Harry loves you. He likes having his godfather in his life. Live for Harry. “

Sirius nodded, and they pulled apart, “ Remus got really lucky. “

Y/n laughed, “ James used to say the same thing. “

When they left the room, it felt like time stopped. Everyone stared at them. Sirius and Y/n were given glares aside from the adults. The children looked betrayed. Harry looked almost in tears. The Weasley twins looked guilty. It seemed to freeze, and Remus looked stressed. Molly and Arthur looked disappointed in their children. Mad-Eye looked unimpressed. Nymphadora looked intrigued. Remus and Y/n exchanged looks, his saying everything– he found out.

Y/n coughed, “ Why- Why is everyone staring? “

“ You lied! “ Harry’s voice sounded heartbroken, betrayed, “ I never lied to you, Harry. I just- you never asked, and there was never a suitable time. “ Y/n tried to explain.

The extendable ear in Fred’s hand told her everything, and she took a breath, “ Harry, can we talk about this in private, please? “

Remus walked forward and took Harry from the shoulders, guiding him to their shared bedroom; once Harry was out of earshot, the Weasley twins stared at their Professor, “ I’m- I’m so sorry, Professor. We didn't- “

“ I’m not mad at you. “ Y/n interrupt, “ I’m not mad at any of you. To clear the rumors, yes, James Potter was my twin brother- “

Before Y/n could continue, Sirius interjected, “ And Y/n Lupin is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. “

“ She has suffered a more remarkable feat than any other witch I know. Y/n was the one who found Marlene McKinnon’s family dead. She watched her best friend bleed out right in front of her eyes. “ Sirius continued, and Y/n swallowed, looking at the ground, “ She watched Frank, and Alice Longbottom get tortured to insanity. “

“ And finally Y/n suffered losing her other half, James Potter and her sister in law, Lily Evans or Lily Potter. “ Sirius put two hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her, “ So before you glare at her, understand what she’s been through. Understand that she’s been tortured, hurt, and killed in more ways than one. “

Sirius still wasn’t finished, “ Her husband is a werewolf. Her husband has hurt her before, and she bears the scars. Her brother was killed. Her brother by choice- “ Sirius chuckled before he continued, “ Was sent to Azkaban for twelve years, and someone she trusted betrayed us all. “

“ Y/n Euphemia Potter-Lupin has endured more pain than everyone in this room combined. But Y/n Euphemia Potter-Lupin is always the one holding us together, the glue to this horrid new world we live in. So please, before you glare. “ Sirius repeated, “ Understand that she’s been tortured, hurt, and killed in more ways than one. “

Hesitantly, Y/n raised her head to see everyone almost in tears. The children weren’t meant to know; they weren’t meant to hear all the suffering she’s endured. It wasn’t their time yet. But as she looked up, she saw Harry and Remus. They hadn’t entirely made it to the bedroom before Sirius began talking. Tears trailed down her husband's cheek, remembering that faithful night he had broken his vows and attacked her. She didn’t blame him.

Hermione was fully sobbing. The Weasley boys had light tears falling down their cheeks. Molly cried in Arthur’s arms while he tried withholding his tears. Nymphadora and Mad-Eye looked astonished. Ron was brought into a hug by Hermione but remained shocked. Y/n didn’t quite know what to do from here. They had just heard her entire life story.

“ I’m sorry you all had to hear that. “ Y/n chuckled, “ I didn’t know Sirius was going to give you a biography on how the first wizarding war went for me. “

She swallowed, “ I’m sorry for keeping this secret from you guys. And Harry, because I know you’re only a floor above me right now in the comfort of Remus’ arms. You need to know that I love you from the bottom of my heart. I just- I just didn’t want you to find out and get too excited. “

“ But I’m your biological Aunt. I fought Dumbledore tooth and nail to take care of you. I remember sobbing and wailing in Remus’ arms because you were right there, right in front of my face, yet I couldn’t have you. “ Y/n explained, “ Vernon and Petunia are awful people. You deserved love, and you wouldn’t have gotten it there. You would’ve been an outsider your entire life. “

Y/n was sobbing as Sirius rubbed her back, her words choked up, “ B- But, I love you, Harry James Potter. “

Harry left Remus’s arms and ran down the flight of stairs. His arms took around his Aunt. The fifteen-year-old held onto his aunt closer than he could ever imagine. Remus walked down the steps slowly to take his place beside Sirius. Harry pulled away slightly, and Y/n wiped her face. Harry’s eyes had that glint of mischief James always had, and it made her want to sob all over again, but Harry spoke before she could.

“ What was your marauder name? “

#remus x y/n #remus x you #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin fluff #remus fluff #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus john lupin #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius orion black #sirius imagine #sirius x reader #Sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #James Potter #marauders x reader #marauders smut #marauders imagine #marauders fluff #marauders #james potter smut #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black imagine

[littlesniggy]

Hey could i request an Ace x female!reader scenario where she is Whitebeard’s biological daughter and the “little sister” of the crew. And she gets pregnant by Ace but nobody knows about it because they kept their relationship secret. So while the crew are eating lunch, the reader suddenly stands up and announces her pregnancy without giving Ace a warning (he already knew about it but didnt expect her s/o to say it outloud) So he just sits there all nervous while the crew is interrogating the reader about who is the father so they can kill him . Also i imagine whitebeard just choking on his beer for the shocking news lol.Srry if its too especific, change wtv u want about it.

Hello! Thank you for requesting! I hope I wrote everything to your liking. I probably went a little too much into Whitebeard's reaction but oh well...Please enjoy!

Pairing: Ace x female! reader

Crew's and Whitebeard's reaction to reader announcing her pregnancy

Word count: 1.2k

“I’m pregnant, Ace.” He thought those words had caught him completely off guard. Your slightly trembling voice, your insecure tone, your harried eyes, darting from him to the wall behind him and back to him again; and he couldn’t say a word. Thinking about it now, he felt bad about his reaction but he was simply stunned. The first thing that had come to his mind was: How?

Of course, Ace knew how babies were made but didn’t you to use contraception? Sure, there was always a risk when having sex but Ace would’ve never thought he’d come into such a precarious situation.

The lack of speech had you think it was a bad idea; you should’ve never told him in the first place and just gotten rid of it. But you didn’t want to. You’ve already made up your mind that you would get the baby, if Ace wanted to or not. You wouldn’t even push him to be part of its life if he didn’t want to.

Ace noticed you becoming more insecure by the second and snapped back from his thoughts. “Hey, hey. Why that face?” he asked, trying to smile encouraging even though he felt insecure himself. “That’s great. It just came so…suddenly, y’know?” he said honestly, putting a hand on your cheek, stroking it your skin lightly.

“I know. I’m sorry to just tell you like this. But better now than never. I was shocked myself.” You admitted, leaning into his touch. A huge burden was being lifted from your shoulders and you were glad that Ace accepted it like this. Now came the difficult part though – how should you tell your father, Whitebeard?

Ace nearly choked when you announced your pregnancy to the crew out of nowhere. He stared at you wide eyed, face an unhealthy red. Did you catch him off guard back then? Absolutely. Did he think you could manage that again? Absolutely not. Was this announcement to your friends and family even worse? Holy shit, yes! Why didn’t you give him a heads up, an early warning? Anything, really!

All eyes were on you, a small smile on your lips. Marco was the first one to clear his throat. “W-what did you say?” he tried to get affirmation that he just misheard but you didn’t do him this favor. “I said, I’m pregnant.” You repeated yourself as if nothing was wrong with this statement.

Ace looked over the faces of his friends, some were shocked, some were angry, and some just had a blank expression. He didn’t want to look over to Whitebeard but he just had to take a quick look.

The old man was sitting at the head-side of the table, with a huge bottle of booze in his hand and completely frozen in place. Ace wasn’t sure if he even was still alive. Maybe the old man had a heart attack? Not too uncommon for people his age.

And suddenly, there was a lot of commotion on the table. Everyone was talking over each other, asking you questions over questions without waiting for an answer.

“Who did this to you?” “Did you get hurt?” “Tell us the name of this bastard!” “We will hunt him down, cut his dick off and present it to the sea monsters as some kind of offering!”

Every pair of eyes looked at the person who just said the last suggestion in confusion. “What?” Marco asked, bewildered from this comment. “I-I was just thinking…never mind.” The man said and sat back down, drinking his beer in silence. The pairs of eyes were shortly after back on you, everyone expecting an answer.

“Whoever this bastard is should run far, far away.” The deep voice of your father sounded from the far end. Apparently, no heart attack. Ace thought to himself. You looked at Whitebeard with a small smile on your lips, shaking your head.

“And why should he?” you wanted to know, intending on making Ace sweat a little more for the time being. It was kind of your revenge for him being silent for so long when you told him. It was petty, you knew but in your eyes you got a free pass. After all, you were going to go through a lot of pain in the end.

“Because once I get him into my hands I will personally crush this man with all I’ve got. So I hope he’s already on the run.” Whitebeard was mad. Not, because you were pregnant but because someone dared to touch his beloved daughter. Ace swallowed hard and looked over to you with a slightly pleading look on his face.

“So, you would crush your second division commander? That would be a shame. You’d loose one of your best men.” Silence. Aces’ eyes were wide open and his face said it all. How can she say this so nonchalantly?! Is she out of her mind?! Every single pair of eyes were now on him, disbelief written all over them. You could hear a pin drop; nobody dared to speak up.

“So, you’re the one who touched my precious daughter, Ace?” Whitebeard slowly got up from his seat, his heavy footsteps rumbling through the boat. “W-well….I-I can explain, pops.” Ace also got up from his place, slowly backing away with a shaky smile on his face, hands held up in defense.

“Really? Let me hear your excuse, then.” Whitebeard was standing in front of him, and it was the first time Ace felt intimidated by his captain. But before he could say anything you came between them, taking Aces’ hand and holding it tightly.

“We’ve been dating for quite some time now. We just thought it’d be better if nobody knew.” You said, looking up at your father.

Whispering could be heard from the rest of the crew at this revelation. Whitebeard raised an eyebrow. “For quite some time, huh? Why didn’t you tell me, Y/n? I’m your father.” Did he sound hurt? Or were you just mistaking? Either way, you felt guilty. “We just thought it’d be best for the crew if nobody knew. We didn’t want to cause disturbances on the ship.”

Whitebeard stayed silent for a moment, then looked behind you to Ace who immediately tensed up. “If you do anything and hurt my daughter or my grandchild in any way I will make my words from earlier come true. I can always get a new second division commander.” There was a small smile on his lips as he turned back to return to his seat.

You turned around to Ace and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “Why are you so tense? Everything went great!” you said innocently, pulling him back to the table where the rest of the crew was waiting to ask you two more questions. Before you two sat down, this time next to each other, Ace whispered into your ear. “Someone’s getting punished later on, Y/n. You almost gave the old man a heart attack, y’know?” he chuckled but was silenced by you almost immediately. “Just cause you’ll become a father doesn’t mean you have to call yourself ‘old man’.” Knowing full well he meant Whitebeard.

#one piece #op #portgas d ace #ace x reader #ace x female reader #ace x you #ace imagine #op imagine #one piece imagine #whitebeard #edward newgate #marco the phoenix #marco the pineapple #imagine #pregnant reader #female reader #op x reader #op x you #one piece x reader #fluff

[ghostedgwen]

make it hurt | p.parker (part six)

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 : 𝖺𝗆 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀? 𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂 𝖺𝗆. 

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝗌 : 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗉𝗍.???, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗅

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄-𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖯𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇. 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 : 𝟤.𝟦𝗄

                                           . . .

Peter was pretty much out of it for the rest of the night. He doesn't remember dancing with you in the sea of drunk people, telling Harry you two will be going home now and dropping you off at your house.

He doesn't remember any of it, as if he's been on autopilot all this time and just regained control of his senses now that he's at home in the comfort of his room. He doesn't even remember how he got back here!

He dropped on his bed with a soft thud, looking up at his ceiling and ran a down down his face.

You're Midnight.

His best friend who he's been in love with for 6 years is Midnight and - oh my god.

"Mine is my sister and well - my best friend as well, been in love with him for a while. Starting to think it's unrequited."

He's the best friend. Peter Parker, he - him - he's the best friend, and you told him you've been in love with him for a while and you thought he doesn't feel the same?

Oh wow, how wrong you both were - actual fucking idiots and now he's unsure of what to think or feel about the whole thing. He feels like he's invaded your privacy - he didn't mean to find out, and he's not sure how to feel about all of this.

Does he worry about the fact you're putting yourself in danger every night like him? Be over the moon about the fact you liked him back? Be upset you never told him? Be mad at himself for not telling you?

This is all too confusing - he has no idea what now.

His eyes landed on his closet where his suit is kept, he pursed his lips and got up. He needs more time to think and decide how to approach this entire situation, and to do that, he needs to dig more as Spider-Man.

.

Spider-Man lands next to you with one big swing from another building, and you turn around, greeting him excitedly. "There you are, you're late," you cross your arms. "Was starting to think you wouldn't show."

"And stand you up? Never." Spider-Man chuckled, acting normal and cool despite the literal panic in his eyes hidden behind the suit.

"I went to a party earlier," you grin, making his blood run cold from the nerves. "Met some asshole but I had fun."

"That's great, Night." He nods slowly and if you noticed how stiff his movements were, you didn't say anything.

"Nothing's turning up, seems the flame dude is laying low." You told him with a shrug and looked out into the city lights. Peter took the time to watch you, your features that was concealed by the mask and the hood.

He admits it should've been easy - but he never thought you would be Midnight, and he never really paid any attention to any other girl. He only had eyes for you, so why even bother committing Midnight's features to his memory?

But this time he took his time to stare, he could almost recognize your eyes through the mask's tinted cover, and he wanted to smack himself for not realizing sooner. He knew he was harder to be found out, mask covering his entire face and a voice changer?

But you were right there and he never saw you.

You notice him staring and frowned. "Got something on your mind?"

He hesitated, you can see his mask shift a few times - he's parting and closing his lips over and over. You patiently waited for him to finally say something.

"I was just wondering about, uhh, your best friend - do you ever plan on telling him?"

You rolled your tongue against your cheek before answering. "Nope," he was stunned by that answer. "You were right, he doesn't deserve Midnight's mess just like your best friend doesn't deserve Spider-Man's."

You gave him a sad smile. "I will feel bad about him not knowing this side of me but I got you to be my alter ego's new best friend." You joked and lightly punched him in the shoulder, he chuckled awkwardly.

"What if he had wanted you to tell him?" He asked, and you frown at that.

"There's no way I would know," you cross your arms. "And besides, I'm happy with what we have right now. The real me has Peter, and Midnight has Spider-Man."

He could almost laugh at the dramatic irony.

"Listen, I'm -"

Loud sounds of sirens cut him off, making him step back and turn his head towards the direction of the loud sounds and you pat him on the back, stepping forward and already lifting your feet off the roof.

"Duty calls." You tell him over your shoulder and began flying off, he stood there for a while before swinging off and going after you. He has to put off the whole drama until later, he has work to do as Spider-Man.

.

.

You could tell Spider-Man was distracted, he didn't exactly mess up but you read him pretty well and even surprised yourself on how well you seemed to know him by now. It's only been a month since you two became partners.

You didn't want to comment on it - his random question earlier should give you enough clues, but you're also worried. So, after stopping about three robberies consecutively - you invite him to your now designated café.

"Hey, Spider-Man and Midnight," the barista greeted with a grin. "Here for another coffee?"

"Yup!" You give him a thumbs-up and a nod. "Give me those cupcakes too, I'm feeling peckish."

Spider-Man stayed quiet during the exchange, you and your partner has been well-acquainted by the barista by now. You learned his name is Trevor on your second visit and he's been pretty cool since the first interaction.

No longer trying to sneak pictures and even striking up casual conversations with you two while you rested. You take a seat at your favourite table and lightly kick Spider-Man's leg under the table.

"You're being quiet, that's new."

He gave you a chortle through the mask and shook his head slightly. "Just thinking about some stuff."

"I can tell," you raise a brow. "Is this about your question earlier?"

"No - yes, sort of?"

You laugh at him, staying quiet for a moment when your coffee and cupcake were served, waving at Trevor lightly with a smile while he returned to the counter. Peter frowned at the action and exchanged looks between you and Trevor.

"Well, you should tell her if you think it's the right time," you shrug, stirring your coffee. "It's been two years since you became Spider-Man, that must've been a hard secret to keep."

"But do you not plan on telling your best friend?" He asked and you wonder why he's turning the question on you, when he's the one with the problem.

"Like I said earlier - no," you shake your head. "We're graduating and there's college to think about, he doesn't need me to add on to his plate."

You perk up in your seat. "Speaking of college, I am very conflicted about the whole thing. Balancing high school and superhero stuff is already hard enough, could you imagine college and hero stuff?"

He stayed quiet for a moment, he didn't really want to change topic but knew you were only going to get suspicious if he kept pressing on the matter.

"I was worrying about that too." He nods - not to mention the job at Daily Bugle he was thinking of getting.

"I guess we're never getting a break ever again." You chuckle.

"Yeah. . ."

.

.

.

Peter is staring at the back of your head in class, you can feel the weight of his gaze but decided against meeting it - you were worried he's catching on to the fact that you're secretly a superhero in your spare time.

That or you might find out your sister actually did say something and he's about to ask you about it while you died of horrible shame.

You kept your eyes ahead and head slightly lowered down to pretend as if you didn't even notice him, and he didn't even try to be subtle with the staring.

He was very distracted last night and not just because he found out you're Midnight - but because he started seeing you and midnight blend into one full image and seeing you in that suit fighting criminals was hot.

He would never admit that thought out loud if it even killed him but it was hard to deny now that he knew the truth - he was always strongly attracted to you but to see you punch and kick criminals and use that cool powers of yours?

He is so weak on the knees, and you don't even have any idea what you're doing to him - how confused and lost he feels right now, while you remain oblivious to the truth.

And he should definitely be taking the more serious stuff into consideration but he was too taken by you that if it weren't for his spidey senses - he would have been knocked out during the first robbery you stopped.

He's hopeless and you have no idea.

.

.

.

Lunchtime came around and you are picking at your food again, Peter sat down across you and couldn't help but frown at how glum you looked.

"Everything okay?" He asked despite knowing that everything is not okay.

"We broke up."

What?

He sat there, unsure of what to say because you're currently staging a break-up with your boyfriend who he now knows doesn't exist - I mean, surely he doesn't? You confessed to Spider-Man that you only had feelings for him?

"I'm sorry?" He didn't even try to sound convincing but you were too deep into your performance to care and you shrugged lightly, playing the part of a sad girl who got broken up with.

"It's fine, we didn't work." Yeah, because he's not real.

"How. . .are you feeling?" He sounded so stiff and awkward, he was sure to replay this event in his head later before bed and cringe at himself.

"Well, of course, I feel like shit. But I'll survive." You hate lying to him so much, but recalling what you and Spider-Man talked about last night - it only solidified your decision to not tell him. At least, not for now.

You're both too young and you could feel the pressure of being a superhero crush you under its weight, there were fun moments and the pleasant feeling of being able to save people but it's no easy task to juggle your life and the safety of everyone around you.

It's bad enough that you could feel your knees buckle at the sight of danger - he doesn't deserve that. He needs to live his very normal life thinking he has a very normal (debatable) best friend who definitely does not fly.

"Wanna come over tonight?" Peter offered.

And it wasn't just to also play the part of the oblivious, caring best friend - he also missed you. Sure you hung out last night at the party but he missed the time when none of this was happening.

You two actually were normal teenagers, secretly pining for the other, and falling even harder every time you spend time together. Not whatever mess this is that you both are in right now.

So you nod, giving him a small smile. You admit you also missed it.

Not having to lie to him and feel like the worst best friend ever, you wanted what you had before but you can't possibly trade Peter for the city. He will never let that happen if he knew, and you just couldn't give one up.

Doesn't matter if you crack trying to keep your place in between, as long as both were safe.

.

You slip into your room, shrugging the suit off and taking a shower before exiting to maybe grab a late snack. Shocked to see your sister in the living room, drinking tea alone with a book propped open on her lap.

"You snuck out again," she calmly said, and you felt your soul escape your body. "I don't want to pry, but I worry about you."

"Whaaat."

She looks up from her book and makes a face at you. "I know you too well, don't even play tricks on me."

Your shoulders slumped and you drop on the couch across her, a million thoughts running through your head. You wonder if she knew about Midnight, and if she didn't then what type of excuse are you going to make?

"I'm sorry."

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. "Are you doing drugs or anything illegal?"

Being a vigilante sure is, but you still shook your head. Earning a sigh from her, and you could feel your heart rattle inside your chest, anticipating the next words to come out of her mouth.

"Do I have to worry about you?" She asked, her voice was calm despite the edge to it and you hesitated before shaking your head.

"No, I'm not into anything illegal and I'm safe."

She nods slowly, putting her teacup down and closing her book. Patting the space next to her and you were quick to get on your feet and settle next to her. She wraps an arm around you and you settle your head on her chest.

"You know I've always looked after you," she spoke slowly and you nod, unable to say anything. "And you're the most important person in my life."

You tried to hold back the tears - you two never talked about your parents, it was a silent agreement not to bring them up. You personally never knew them, you had no memories of them but your sister always had this hint of anger whenever they were brought up.

So you took it as a sign to not pry.

"I know, you're basically the only parent I've ever known."

You feel her run her fingers through your hair, and you close your eyes at the gesture.

"It's hard not to freak out over everything you did - I always thought I'd make the wrong move and ruin everything for you but that's different now. You're old enough to think for yourself."

"If you say you're staying safe and not doing anything illegal, I believe you."

You smile at that. "Thanks."

"Just use the front door next time, we're too high up and it must be tiring using the fire escape every night."

You laugh, pulling away to look at her and feel your heart chest grow warm and light at the sight of her smiling at you. Her eyes glossy from the tears, but she had a small smile on.

"I'll just pretend you've been sneaking out every night to make out with Peter in the rooftop."

Your jaw dropped and you give her an incredulous look while she cackled like a mad man, enjoying your reaction, and her tears finally came this time. She knew that was very unlikely given how you are still hopelessly pining but it was effective in lifting the mood.

to be continued. masterlist

taglist : @lauraneedstochill @silverwindptv @insomniacprentiss @iprobablyshipit91 @softpeachysoul (send an ask or comment to be added)

#andrew!peter #tom!peter #tobey!peter #andrew!peter x reader #tom!peter x reader #tobey!peter x reader #andrew garfield #tom holland #tobey maguire #andrew garfield fanfiction #andrew garfield peter parker #spider-man #spider-man x reader #spider-man imagines #tasm!spiderman x reader #the amazing spider man #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #make it hurt #make it hurt part six

[sour--disposition]

Behind His Back

-

harry lewis x fem!reader

-

please see my pinned post for masterlists/request info :)

requested: Hello, could you do something where reader is best mates with cal and he brings her to shoots and in vids and such and her and Harry are kinda together but no one knows then someone accidentally outs them thanks !! 🙌🏻

Yours and Cal’s laughter reached the spot that the other guys had picked for filming long before the two of you did, poking and chasing each other as you barrelled through the doors. Cal was joining in on some game that they were filming for moresidemen and he’d dragged you along so you could sit off camera and poke fun at all eight of them.

As soon as you’d fallen into the venue, a bright smile had stretched across Harry’s face. Seeing you as happy and full of life as you were made him impossibly happy, as soppy as it sounded. All he wanted was to wander over and pull you into his arms, maybe surprise you so you let out that funny squeal you did whenever she shocked you.

But he couldn’t.

Although he’d never said it, it was sort of an unwritten rule of Cal’s that you were off limits for any of his friends. Maybe that made it all the more exciting, sneaking around behind your best friend’s back. You knew that it wouldn’t end well, it would either end in heartbreak between you and Harry or anger from Cal. Neither was an outcome you wanted, but one of them was bound to be inevitable.

Ethan had noticed Harry staring at you and was prepared to embarrass his best friend, not knowing that he was one of the only people that knew the truth about yours and Harry’s relationship. “Gonna go give your girlfriend a smooch, Bog?”, Ethan asked, grin as bright as ever as he shoved Harry playfully in your direction.

You and Harry both froze, eyes wide in surprise and fear. The humour drained out of Ethan’s face as he watched yours and Harry’s reactions and a tense atmosphere immediately fell over the group. Even the camera crew looked awkward.

You could see Harry desperately trying to conjure up some sort of excuse for what Ethan had just said. Ethan looked like he would do just about anything to retract his words. But what was said was said and you just had to deal with the consequences.

“What the fuck is he on about?”, Cal asked, voice harsh and angry. His eyes were fixed on Harry, practically pinning him to the spot. “Harry. What the fuck is Ethan on about?”.

“Look, mate-”, Harry started, words getting caught in his throat.

“How could you?”, Freezy spat, voice like venom. He turned to you, looking at you like you’d just taken a knife to his back. “And you?”.

“Don’t be mad at her, Cal”, Harry pleaded, voice desperate.

“I’ll be mad at whoever the fuck I wanna be mad at!”, Cal shouted, making Harry jump and sending a wave of anger coursing through your veins.

“You know what, no”, you started, leaving Cal’s side of the room and walking to stand in between the two of them. “You have no right to be mad. We’re adults. We don’t answer to you. I don’t answer to you”, you stressed.

You could tell that the others in the room had no idea what to do. Guilt was written all over Ethan’s face and varying levels of worry and awkwardness seemed to be spread throughout the rest of the guys. Everyone was following the discussion like a ball in a tennis match.

“I live with him and you’re my best friend, I’m kind of involved in this!”, Cal exclaimed. You mumbled something under your breath that neither Cal or Harry heard, but it only seemed to antagonise Cal more. “What?”, he demanded.

“I’m just saying, last time I checked, it’s not you sneaking me into your apartment, but whatever”, you commented casually.

“Y/N”, Harry warned from behind you, taking a few steps closer to you.

“I’m not going to pick between my best friend and my boyfriend!”, you cemented. “If you’re going to make me pick, you’re making the decision for me”, you told Cal, a finger pointed towards him. “And it won’t go in your favour”, you cautioned.

“You’d pick Harry over me?”, Cal asked, looking genuinely offended. “I’ve known you since we were 12”, he reminded you.

“I love him”, you said, voice suddenly small and shy. “And if you don’t want any part of that, then I don’t know what to tell you”, you shrugged before turning your back and walking out of the venue.

Harry stood stock still. Everything in his body was telling him to chase after you, tell you that he felt the same way, but he couldn’t get his body to move. The shock of Cal finding out and then you telling everyone that you loved him, it left him paralysed.

“Is anyone gonna go after her?”, Vik asked, eyes tearing between Harry and Cal.

“I’ll go”, Harry and Freezy said at the same time.

“She won’t wanna see you right now, mate… In the nicest way possible”, Harry told his friend, leaving him no time to answer before following you out of the venue and finding you a few feet away, sat on a bench.

“Hey”, Harry said, catching your attention. He sat down next to you, forearms resting on his thighs as he leaned forwards. “That could’ve gone better”, he whispered, pulling a sardonic laugh from you.

“You think”, you snorted.

“I love you, too”, Harry blurted, barely giving you time to finish your sentence.

Before you had a chance to say or do anything in response, Cal was stalking away from the venue doors and towards the two of you. “Cal-”, you started.

“Look”, he sighed. “I reacted badly. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, alright”, he huffed. “I was just caught off guard, I had no idea”, he defended.

“That was sort of the point”, you chuckled. “Because we were worried about what you’d say”, you explained. “Or that you’d react like this”.

Harry sat still beside you, always unsure of what to do or say when it came to disagreements between you and Cal, and it was only made worse by the fact that he was in the middle of the situation. He let his hand leave his lap and join yours, squeezing around your fingers supportively.

“Nothing I say is gonna make this go away?”, Cal asked, face pulled with pain.

“No”, you said simply, a sense of finality settling in your voice. “If you love me enough to be worried about Harry hurting me, then you love me enough to let me love Harry”, you told him gently. “And, in the nicest way possible, it really has nothing to do with you”.

Cal sat down next to you, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as he sunk into the bench. “I feel like I should’ve seen this coming”, he complained.

“To be honest, mate, you really are clueless”, Harry chuckled from beside you.

“How long have you been together?”, Cal asked you, looking up at you from his dejected slump.

“Officially, almost three months”, you told Cal.

“Unofficially?”, he asked warily.

“Nearly six”, you admitted.

“How did I not realise?”, Cal groaned, dropping his head against the backrest of the bench. “I can’t believe I missed it”.

“We were really good at hiding it”, Harry shrugged. “It was like mission impossible to be honest, you made everything quite inconvenient”, he jibed, earning him a swat over the head from Cal.

“At least I never heard you shagging”, Cal sighed. His eyes went wide as a silence fell over you and Harry, a smirk threatening to peak through onto your lips. “Are you fucking kidding me!?”, he exclaimed, almost jumping up out of his seat.

“Yeah, none of those one night stands were one night stands”, Harry mumbled as he itched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, and all”. You could see Cal cringing, knowing that he’d heard his two best friends have sex with each other couldn’t have been a fun thought to have running through his mind.

“If you excuse me, I am off to pour acid into my ears”.

#harry lewis #w2s #wroetoshaw #harry lewis imagine #harry lewis oneshot #harry lewis x reader #w2s imagine #w2s oneshot #w2s x reader #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #wroetoshaw x reader #sidemen #sidemen imagine #sidemen oneshot #sidemen x reader #calfreezy #callum airey #KSI #Vikkstar123 #ZerkaaHD #Miniminter #Behzinga #tbjzl #uk youtube #uk youtube imagine

[rphelperblog]

Heroes of Olympus Rp Meme

“Uh, normally she doesn’t judo-flip people.” 

“Knocked out twice in two days,” 

“With great power... comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later.” 

I could use some dam french fries."

“Be careful of love. It'll twist your brain around and leave you thinking up is down and right is wrong.” 

“Life is only precious because it ends, kid.”

“Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die.” 

"I don't know. But I just know that I'll be fighting next to you."

“It's funny how humans can wrap their mind around things and fit them into their version of reality.” 

“It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one.” 

“The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive.” 

“You deal with mythological stuff for a few years, you learn that paradises are usually places where you get killed.” 

“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to blast you.”

I gave her my deluxe I'll-Kill-You-Later stare.”

“If there’d been an ocean in Kansas, maybe.”

“donuts. Always, donuts.”

“That should’ve killed her!”

“What if we promoted, like, Adidas or something? Would that make Nike mad enough to show up?” 

“To be perfect, you have to feel perfect about yourself—avoid trying to be something you’re not.” 

“What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize.” 

“Survive first. Figure out crayon drawing of destiny later.” 

“I can’t believe I thought you were hot.” 

“I try not to think. It interferes with being nuts 

“It seemed weird calling a teenager 'sir' but I'd learned to be careful with immortals. They tended to get offended easily. Then, they blew stuff up.” 

"The god's chosen beverage. Tremble before the horror of Diet Coke!” 

"You look stupid just standing there."

“But remember, boy, that a kind act can sometimes be as powerful as a sword.” 

“Getting something and having the wits to use it...those are two different things.” 

'No, that's our huge friend Leroy! He's going to help us!” 

“Tell the sun and stars hello for me.” 

“FORGET THE CHICKEN-NUGGET SMOKE SCREEN.”

“It could kick some serious booty,” 

You're no more a freak than we are. And, hey, maybe you can fly, too. Like jump off a building and yell 'Flame on!'"

"If I did that, you would see a flaming kid falling to his death, and I would be yelling something a little stronger than 'Flame on!” 

“Isn’t that Mother Nature? She’s supposed to have, like, flowers in her hair and birds singing around her and dear and rabbits doing her laundry.”

"I mean... Oh, cool! Suffering? I love suffering! Let's do this.” 

I'm so cool. I want to date myself, but I don't know how! You want to date me instead? You're so lucky!” 

“I fought side by side with the gods and some other demigod…Harry Cleese, I think.”

“I’d eat breakfast, breakfast, and breakfast if I could.” 

“and inside were not gardening tools, unless you wanted to make war on your tomato plants.” 

“But beauty is about finding the right fit, the most natural fit, To be perfect, you have to feel perfect about yourself --- avoid trying to be something you're not.

“My point is that love is the most powerful motivator in the world. It spurs mortals to greatness. Their noblest, bravest acts are done for love.” 

“Shut up, me,”

“Nothing,Long night. I think I’m hallucinating. It’s cool.” 

“Just joking.it might be good to change the subject.” 

"I am nice! I simple ooze niceness,”

“And it was pretty much the best underwater kiss of all time.” 

"Yay! Your brain works!”

“Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say.” 

“You must forge your own path for it to mean anything.” 

“Delaying death is one of my favorite hobbies” 

"I'm the bad boy supreme. And the ladies love a bad boy.” 

“But magic is neither good nor evil. It is a tool, like a knife. Is a knife evil? Only if the wielder is evil.” 

I'm the... What's my title? Am I like, admiral, or captain, or..."

“Safety from what? Who's after me?"

"Yes, my brave one. They are beautiful tonight."

I will have your soul!” 

“No one can hate you with more intensity than someone who used to love you.”

"Why do humans have to sway their arms while they walk? I dunno boss, but it just feels right.” 

“Do you always try to kill people when they blow their nose?

“Does truth have a moral?” 

“Lots of death, huh? Personally, I'm trying to avoid lots of death, but you guys have fun!” 

“Well . . . sure good to be together again. Arguing. Almost dying. Abject terror. Oh, look. It's our floor.” 

‘I get a little nosebleed and I wake up the entire earth? That’s not fair!” 

I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

“There is always a way out for those clever enough to find it.

She glared at me like she was going to punch me. And then she did something that surprised me even more. She kissed me.” 

“Hot? You dare insult me? I am cold,Very, very cold.” 

We've learned that your plans really, really bite!” 

“I can’t drown. And neither can my pancakes.” 

“Oh my god, I am so awesome!"

"And cute, in a scrawny way,

Baby I invented scrawny. Scrawny is the new sizzling hot.” 

“Being a hero doesn’t mean you’re invincible. It just means that you’re brave enough to stand up and do what’s needed.” 

“not giving people a second thought…that can be dangerous.” 

“We'll have to work on your bunny phobia later.” 

“Almost everything strange washes up near Miami. ” 

“Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters.” 

I will look for powdered donuts in the wilderness."

And so...hypothetically, if these to people likes each other, what would it take to get the stupid guy to kiss the girl, huh?"

“Daddy will explain. Come, he is blowing up monsters.” 

“Oh, I wouldn't say Love always makes you happy. Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad.” 

"You just . . . with a sword . . . you just—"

“I'm not good with children, Or people. Well, any organic life forms, really.” 

Uh...don't we deal in myths?'

'No, I mean it's a MADE-UP myth. Not like, an actual true myth.

“I am never, ever, going to make things easy for you Get used to it.” 

#heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #open meme #open to anybody #open to all #open RP #open to anyone #ask meme #rp meme #roleplay meme #memes

[lxngbottom]

Can we get a part 2 to pretty flower? my soul depends on it

Pretty Flower | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville finds himself being absolutely attached to the reader after their time together.

warnings: nsfw, light clit play, mentions of sex, but nev being adorable

my soul depends on this too don’t worry

—

ever since that night with neville, everything seemed to be blurring together and changing for you. it had only been a couple of weeks, and you made no attempt to even speak to him. you were so embarrassed at what happened, and even more ashamed at the fact that you enjoyed it. after neville pleaded with you to stay, you just walked out on him, giving him no rhyme or reason.

after everything, neville felt so guilty. did he over step? oh god... what if you didn’t really want that to happen? what if he was too invasive? he wasn’t too sure, but it made him burn with sadness every time he saw you, hiding your face from him in the halls.

you definitely weren’t angry with him, you just were too shy. you felt like you had committed some sort of unforgivable act.

when you told ginny, she almost flipped the whole table over in the great hall. she wasn’t shocked at the fact that it had happened, as she assumed that neville had always fancied you, but all at the same time... you had actually agreed to it. you were no longer “innocent”. and that on its own was what got to ginny. maybe the ginger was just... baffled?

“down there?” hermione asked, skimming the row of seats in the quidditch pitch. you nodded you head as people filled in the rows.

you were at a quidditch game, more than ready to support ginny in her first real match of the year. hermione and luna had escorted you, as you were terrified to get in trouble for not sitting in your house placement. when you admitted that fact, hermione just giggled and said, “and they say i’m afraid to break the rules...”

as you three settled into the stands, you saw a familiar figure walking in your direction. your body tensed, and you quickly turned your head hoping that he wouldn’t notice you.

but of course, he did notice you. he always noticed you.

“you guys saving these seats for anyone else?” neville asked politely. hermione shook her head, and he adjusted his scarf as he glanced over at you, just simply waiting for you to look back. but unfortunately, you couldn’t.

you were too ashamed.

—

the quidditch match had gone great. gryffindor had taken a victory, and for some god awful reason, you had agreed to let hermione to sneak you into the gryffindor common room to celebrate.

unusual things had happened as people cheered ron on, including lavendar brown practically forcing her tongue down the ginger’s throat. this elicited a terrible reaction from hermione, and you watched as she exited the common room with teary eyes, harry following behind her. you wanted to go check on her, but honestly, you knew that harry could probably make her feel better than you could. after all, you weren’t great with handling people’s emotions.

for merlin’s sake, you couldn’t even figure out your own emotions.

here you were now, awkwardly standing in the front as students cheered lavendar and ron on for snogging. luckily, they exited soon, probably trying to find some privacy you assumed.

you knew how that went.

you gulped as the whole time you could feel neville’s lingering presence beside you, and you could hear the sound of his voice every time seamus spoke a word to him beside you.

“want me to make you feel good with my fingers?”

“wanna taste yourself, doll? you taste so good...”

“i can’t wait to ruin you, bunny...”

the statements came back in flashbacks every single time you heard his voice. it made your hands shake, and your thighs press together.

“y/n?”

the voice snapped you back to reality, and you looked over to see seamus with furrowed eyebrows looking over at you,

“are you alright?”

you nodded your head awkwardly, feeling neville’s chest slightly pressing up against your back from how packed it was in the common room at the moment.

“yes... um—sorry... what did you say?”

oh god. this was so embarrassing.

“i asked if you placed your bet on weasley, today... if you didn’t, you’re probably regretting that now, huh?” he teased, shooting a playful grin your way. you laughed awkwardly, as you could still feel neville right behind you.

then, you heard dean and ginny called seamus’s name, and he shot them a questioning look.

“oi! leave y/n alone, finnigan!” ginny demanded, walking over towards you, “dean needs a word with you, seamus...”

he rolled his eyes and walked over to his best friend, and patted your shoulder as she returned to the boys.

you were now alone again, and people started to spread out in the common room, chatter of triumph still occurring. but, that feeling behind you still hadn’t faded.

“meet me in my dorm...” you heard in your ear, and you jumped slightly from the voice. he sounded so... angelic. “bunny...”

your thighs clenched from the nickname, and the fact that you could feel neville’s breath against your neck. but you didn’t dare to look back, even when his finger grazed the back of your thigh slightly. and suddenly, he was gone.

for a moment, you panicked thinking about what you should do. you still felt utterly embarrassed due to what happened just a couple weeks prior, but, you couldn’t ignore that familiar fluttery sensation in your stomach as you thought about it.

fuck it.

you waited for a few minutes before walking away, and ginny shot you a wink as you went towards the boy’s dormitory.

“just stay calm... it’s fine—it’s just neville...” you kept telling yourself as you walked up the stairs, also hoping that no one was following you.

the trip to the dorm was unfortunately much shorter than you hoped it would be, and you trembled as you knocked on the door. neville opened it automatically, grabbing your arm and pulling you inside. you yelped at this, and he slammed the door behind you. he let go of you, and you awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

he loomed over your figure as he approached slowly, looking you up and down.

“hi, petal...” he whispered, sending a shock through your spine,

“hi...” you replied shyly, gulping a bit. he couldn’t help but smile hearing your fragile voice again, as he had missed the simple sound of it these past two weeks.

he noticed your nervousness, and let his fingertip graze across your cheek in an attempt to soothe you, “i’ve missed you...” he cooed, “you left with no reason, darling. i’ve been worried. you haven’t spoken to me, either...”

you felt guilty at his words, but even more guilty for the reasoning.

“s-s-sorry...” you stuttered out, already knowing that he was about to ask you why, “e-embarrassed...”

embarrassed? why?

“why are you embarrassed, love?”

you didn’t know if you should exactly tell him, but you knew he deserved some sort of explanation. you could tell that he was pleading for one just by the look in his eyes.

“what—what we did...”

he frowned a bit at your reply,

“why is that embarrassing?”

you shrugged your shoulders, honestly not understanding the shame.

“it—it was bad...” you muttered, but noticed the shift in neville’s facial features, “not—not bad like that... just—i—well... i don’t know...”

he couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle from you innocence, as it was somehow still in tact.

“well... is there anything i could do to make you feel less embarrassed? cause—there’s no reason to be, petal. you did—amazing.” he paused before he continued, letting his hand trail down your hip, rubbing small circles into it. “there’s nothing to be ashamed of, petal.”

you looked up at him finally, your sparkling, shy eyes burning into his. your cheeks were on fire from his touch, and you knew that he knew that he had an affect on him.

“i-i-i’m sorry... i’ve just been scared to—bring it up, i suppose. d-d-don’t want to—embarrass you in front of your friends...”

neville didn’t even respond, he simply placed a small kiss on your forehead, and he sent you a small smile.

“you could never do that, petal... you’re too sweet.”

his words made you somehow blush even more, and it was getting to the point where you broke out in a sweat from how heated you were.

“but... i couldn’t help but notice that you were clenching those pretty little thighs of yours together in the common room, earlier...” now, his eyes were dark once more, that sweet boy gone within an instant, “what were you thinking about, bunny?” that’s when those same fingers that rested on your hips came trailing down, and were going up your skirt, making your breath hitch.

“y-y-you...” you responded sheepishly, only wanting to be honest with him. he chuckled, and finally, he pressed his finger up against your clothed bundle of nerves.

you gasped as he did so, “bunny... you’re soaked... how long have you been like this?” he asked teasingly, but the tone in his voice came off as if he was just pitying you.

“i-i’ve been thinking about—you... a lot... ever since—you know...” he hummed in response, letting you know that he wanted you to keep speaking, “i—i tried to—t-t-touch myself the other day... but—i don’t know. it felt... weird...”

even after everything, you were still so innocent. it drove neville absolutely mad.

“petal... you should’ve just came to me. you know i’ll take care of you.” he stated with a smirk etched across his face. his fingers kept rubbing small circles into your panties, making your breath turn shaky and uneven. “do you know how much i’ve missed you?”

you whimpered as moved your panties aside, and ran his finger through your slit,

“please...”

“please what, bunny?”

you were tired of the teasing. you had missed him so fucking much, and you just wanted him to make you feel good again. plus, you simply missed just being around him.

“touch me again. please.”

he kissed your lips softly, but still only continued to tease your pussy with his fingers.

“be patient, petal. i want you to be mine before i make you feel good again...” he admitted, stroking your cheek with his free hand. “would you want that?”

you looked up at him, and could see the pure honestly and adoration in his green eyes. you had never had a boyfriend before, but you didn’t even have to give it a second thought before you nodded your head.

he sent you a genuine smile,

“good. now you’re mine and i can make you feel good whenever you want...”

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader #neville x y/n #neville x you #neville longbottom fluff #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n #neville smut

[lord-multifandom-murder]

Ok! My first request! And I AM SO SORRY TO THE NONNIE WHO REQUESTED THIS BECAUSE I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED YOUR MESSAGE PLS DON'T KILL ME!

Anyways, the nonnie requested a George x reader with an argument and fluff at the end, so here we go!

Time to spend (George Weasley x reader)

A/N: Oh boy, I'm so sorry, this was the best I could come up with! I just can't find a reason to fight with this cinnamon roll of a boi.....but I hope you like this!

Summary: George hasn't been spending time with you, and you're getting frustrated

Warnings: Swearing, yelling, a lil angst, so much fluff at the end it could be a super floofy cat or smth, (not very proofread writing??)

Requests are OPEN!

You sighed tiredly, looking at your watch. This was the 7th time George came late for a date. And knowing him, he'd only come really late into the hour, which would end up with you only walking back with him to the castle.

You were tired of being treated like this. But, you decided to wait a while longer at the Three Broomsticks for him to show up. "Y/N!" called a voice. Aha. You turn around to see your boyfriend hurrying towards you.

"Darling, I'm so sorry that I'm late! I got caught up with Fred and I-"

"Lost track of time?" you finished, looking at him. "W-what?" he questions, noticing the look on your face.

"George," you sigh. "I'm tired of waiting for you to turn up for a date! This is the 7th time and I can't keep doing this!" you say loudly, drawing the attention of a few people in the pub, along with Madam Rosmerta.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry! I promise that I won't be late the next time!"

"George, you've said that many times. And what happened on the next date? We only walked back to the castle! We didn't even get to spend time together!" you snap. George opened his mouth to speak again, but you cut him off.

"You know what, George? I'm going to go back to Hogwarts. Alone. I can't keep being patient, you know. All I wanted was to spend time with you, and if you think that your pranks are more important than me, you should've thought twice before deciding to date me" you say quietly.

"Y/N, wait-," he said, but you walked out of the pub. He sighs, watching you storm off, and sat down in your chair. Madam Rosmerta walked over and sat in the chair opposite him with a sympathetic expression.

"Firewhisky?" she offers. George looked at her surprised for a minute, because she usually wouldn't offer it to Hogwarts students. But, he nodded all the same. "Sure. Go crazy," he mumbles.

You were walking down the street to the castle and made it past the school gates when you reminisced on what you had said. You sighed frustratedly, regretting your words. You scolded yourself, reminding that George just wanted to spend time with his twin, who had been with him longer than you'd ever be.

But then another voice popped up. Sure, he just wanted to spend time with Fred, but he had already promised you! And all the times you've been late for a date are much less than his, it reasoned.

You shake your head and huffed, speeding up your pace. You soon reach the Gryffindor Common Room and met the Fat Lady. You mumbled the password and climbed through the hole.

You're met with the Trio, who was already expecting the outcome of the date, and waited for you to return. Harry raises his eyebrows and observes you with his green eyes as you flop into a comfy armchair with an exaggerated groan. "George was late again?" asks Ron.

"Mhm," you mumble, rubbing your eyes and looking at your friends. Hermione looked at you sympathetically and said "George will come around, don't worry,"

You sigh. "I don't really think so. I yelled at him at the pub.....,"

Ron winced. "Ah, well then I guess you'll have to wait,"

"Ron!" snapped Hermione sharply. "What?" he asks obliviously. Hermione sighs and shakes her head. "Don't listen to him, Y/N. He'll come round soon," she reassures.

---------

The next morning, you walk down for breakfast and you see George sitting with his twin, looking tired. You avoid eye-contact with him and sit in between Ron and Hermione. You look sideways and see George looking at you, and you notice that his hair was messy and his eyes were half-open. You turn away and talk to Harry about the day's classes.

For the whole day, you and George didn't exchange a single word. When you walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, you're met with the redhead, who was sitting on the floor with his forehead on his knees in front of your dorm staircase.

You wanted to ignore him, but he looked a little off. He wasn't with Fred......you didn't even see him. You sighed and walked towards George and squatted in front of him. You tap his head with your finger. "George," you whisper. "Are you asleep?"

George lifted his head and looked at you, with tired eyes. You open his mouth to say something, but he attacked you in a hug. "I'm sorry," you hear him mumble. "It's fine, Georgie," you say, returning the hug. "I really shouldn't have been late!" he says. "Yes, you shouldn't have," you answer.

"You have every right to be mad at me!"

"Yes, I have," you say, amused.

"Are you going to keep agreeing with everything I say?!" he whines.

"Yep, I will," you answer, laughing when he let out another whine.

You stand up, leaving him on the floor. He pouts up at you and you roll your eyes. "What happened to you, really?" you question. "You're acting like you have a hangover!"

George looked sheepish for a minute. "That's because I do have one. I.....drank a bit of firewhisky when you left," he mumbles. "What?" you say, a smile playing on your face. "Madam Rosmerta offered me some. If I didn't know any better, she might've spiked it if I hadn't drank so much," he complains.

You laugh. "Alright, you big baby. Get up. D'you want to cuddle?" At that, George shot up, wincing slightly from his headache. Up in his dorm, he put on a pair of sweatpants and just tugging his shirt off, flopping on his bed, groaning at the pain.

You roll your eyes as you wear some shorts of yours that George (somehow) had, and a shirt of his, before settling under the covers and turning to your side to face him. "I'm sorry," you whisper. "Why?" he asks, turning over to look at you.

"I shouldn't have been so angry," you say. "You wanted to hang out with your brother, and I shouldn't get in the way. You just wanted to spend some time with him."

"What? No, Y/N, I should've paid more attention to the time! Fred kept reminding me not to be late, and would you look at that, I was late!"

You sigh. "Alright, alright, let's not start arguing about who was more wrong here, okay? We've made up," you reason.

"Right," George says. "Okay then, are you going to make my headache feel better?" he pouts, giving you adorable puppy-dog eyes. You roll your eyes but open your arms, and he happily wiggles into them, resting his head in the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms under your waist.

You kiss his forehead. "I love you," he mumbles quietly. "I love you too, you headache," you answer. You hear him give a huff, and you laugh quietly, knowing that everything was going to be fine now.

Well, hope you enjoyed it! (Feedback is always appreciated!)

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #george weasley x reader fluff #request reads #george weasley x reader angst #hp fanfics #harry potter fanfiction

[onlyfreds]

I Told You to Behave | F.W.

Title: I Told You to Behave

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: We all know that Fred has trouble behaving

A/N: A huge thank you to Holly for sending me the prompt that inspired this fic! I had so much fun writing this and I hope that I did this justice.

As soon as I wrote down the concluding sentence of my essay, I threw my quill on the table as I leaned back on my chair, breathing a sigh of relief.

I then heard a small knock on the dorm room door, thinking it was one of my roommates I immediately answered, “Come in!”

But, instead of Angelina or Katie or Alicia, the person who came in was none other than my handsome, lovable, sweet, caring (and did I mention handsome?) boyfriend, Frederick Gideon Weasley.

I smiled, my mood immediately being uplifted, while I lazily pushed my chair away from the table, standing up and walking over to him as I wrapped my arms around his torso and breathed in his scent.

“Hey darling.” He cooed with a small smile, combing his fingers through my hair.

“What have you been up to?” He asked.

I looked up at him, “Just finished that 12-foot essay for Transfiguration.”

“How about you?” I then asked, “What brings you here?”

He raised a brow, “What brings you here? She asks. I missed you. Isn’t that obvious? Why else would I be here?”

I shrugged, giving him a small smile, “Dunno, maybe you need something from me?”

Fred gasped as he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offence, “How could accuse me of such a deed?! Honestly woman, you call yourself my girlfriend.”

I laughed, pressing a small kiss on his lips, “I’m just joking love. Besides, I know how clingy you could be.”

“Hey!” He protested, “You’re clingier.”

I stuck his tongue out at him, “Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

Fred rolled his eyes, knowing that I wouldn’t back down because of how stubborn I could get. He crashed our lips together, causing me to stumble back slightly from the force of the kiss.

He sunk his teeth on my bottom lip, nibbling it gently, causing me to moan softly against his mouth.

He placed a hand at the back of my head while I rested my hands on his chest. While he deepened the kiss we slowly walked backwards until my back hit the wall.

The two of us pulled apart, breathless and the temperature of the room rising up by a few degrees.

I looked up at him, feeling my cheeks being painted a tint of pink, “Is that your way of telling me to shut up?”

He grinned sheepishly, “Maybe?”

I giggled, “Then maybe you should shut me up more often.”

Fred smirked, leaning closer that I could practically feel his breath fanning over my face, “What if I shut you up now?”

I bit my lip, feigning innocence, “What’s stopping you?”

My boyfriend was about to reconnect our lips, when a knock on the door caused him to jump slightly.

“Oi Fred!” The familiar voice of his twin could be heard from the other side of the door, “Are you in there?”

Fred muttered something about wrong timing as he answered, “I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

“Well, now’s not the time to be making babies.” His twin retorted, “This product needs your immediate attention. Emphasis on immediate.”

“Why don’t attend to it?” Fred asked, rolling his eyes.

“I have a date with Angelina you oaf! Now, stop your baby-making, get your arse here and fix this.”

“Fine.” Fred huffed as he opened the door and took the box from George.

I sat down on the edge of my bed while Fred sat down on the floor and starting to figure out what was wrong.

“So much for the mood.” I said with a small laugh, moving to sit down in front of him.

“This fever fudge has been on trial for weeks.” He groaned, looking over the ingredients of the product again.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, resting my chin on the open palm of my hand.

He frustratingly ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier, “It malfunctions. Once you eat it, your temperature will rise up to 40 degrees. Then within mere minutes it’ll go back down to your normal temperature even without the cure.”

I reached out my hand, “Can I see the list?”

He nodded, handing me the piece of parchment as I read over the messy, but thankfully eligible, handwriting.

“That’s why.” I muttered once I’ve finished reading the whole list.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Fred asked as I handed it back to him.

“You’re missing an ingredient.” I explained, “That’s why it malfunctions.”

“What ingredient?” He asked.

I shrugged, “Just a mandrake leaf. Though, I’ve run out of stock. I’ll go ask Hermione if she has some.”

We then started making the potion again, now all we needed was the mandrake leaf.

I walked towards the door and before leaving to Hermione’s dorm, I warned my boyfriend, “Whatever you do. Don’t add anything else to the potion. You behave until I get back with the mandrake leaf.”

Fred nodded, giving a mock salute, “Yes Ma’am!”

I playfully rolled my eyes at him before shutting the door behind me.

(Fred’s POV)

As soon as the door closed, I looked back down at the parchment in my hand, double checking the whole process to make sure that we did it right.

I took a glance at the bubbling potion that was sitting in the cauldron, that’s strange. If I wasn’t mistaken the potion had to be orange, not purple.

I went over the list again and thought that we’ve must’ve added a little less unicorn horn powder than required

Unscrewing the jar, I was about to add a dash of the powder when I stopped in my tracks remembered what my girlfriend told me.

“Whatever you do. Don’t add anything else to the potion. You behave until I get back with the mandrake leaf.”

I hesitated, the ladle hovering above the cauldron.

She did say that I should wait for her, but I’m pretty sure that nothing will go wrong if I just add a dash, right?

Right?

I sighed, quickly tipping over the ladle, watching the powder drop into the potion.

I waited a minute, but nothing seemed to happen.

At that moment, I realized that I should’ve listened.

Fireworks started to explode from the potion, bouncing off the walls and knocking stuff over.

Once the fireworks disappeared, the room was a mess. I mean a literal mess.

Before I could think of a solution to make it look like that nothing happened, I saw the door knob turn.

She was back. I was dead.

(Reader’s POV)

“Thanks Hermione!” I called after the girl as she headed down to Ron and Harry.

I then opened the door to my dorm, only to see a wreck in front of me and my boyfriend with the look of a guilty puppy.

“What in the name of Godric Gryffindor happened here Freddie?” I asked, staring at him agape.

He gave a shy smile, “I may have added a dash of unicorn horn powder to the potion.”

I glared at him as I took out my wand and waved it, the room cleaning itself up, “What did I say?”

He seemed to cower a bit, “You told me to behave.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, “And what did you do?”

Fred gave a small, innocent smile, “The exact opposite.”

I sighed, suddenly remembering my Transfiguration essay and rushing immediately towards the table. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the essay was perfectly fine. I tucked it away in my bag before any damage could be made.

I was aware of Fred staring at me with big doe eyes, silently begging me to forgive him.

I gave him the silent treatment, fixing up the rest of the stuff until the room was back to its natural glory.

I suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, breathing in Fred’s scent as he rested his cheek on my shoulder, his hair tickling my ear.

I looked at him, once again seeing those big doe eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He said, almost in a whisper, “I should’ve listened to you.”

I licked my lips, “You’re lucky the essay I worked on for three hours didn’t get ruined.”

Fred’s eyes lighted up, “Do you forgive me?”

I playfully rolled my eyes at him, “I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my cheek, “See? You can’t stay mad at me for long?”

I raised a brow at him, “You want to test that theory out?”

His eyes widened, shaking his head vigorously, “No thanks.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting​ @gostupid-godumb​ @famdomhideout​ @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff​  @pandaxnienke​ @escapingrealitybyreading​ @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts​​ (Send a Message/Ask or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!)

#fredweasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasleyimagines #fred weasley fluff #fredweasleyfanfic #fredweasleyoneshots #fredweasleysmut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fredweasleyfic #weasley #hpimagines #hponeshots

[yellowsuitcase]

Let me help you // Draco Malfoy

Request: heyy, I wanted to make a request bc I love your writting sm!!! I was wondering if u would like to do an imagine where the reader is on the Gryffindor quidditch team and after a match she is tired and Draco helps her shower or sth like that? maybe smut if you feel like? idk u are the writer and if u can could u include prompts 33 and 98? omg im sorry if this is too long honestly just do whatever feels confortable to u i just had that idea, thanks keep up the good work.

A/N: I started writing this soon after I received this request because omg the amount of smut I’ve been writing has been k i l l i n g me and I knew I could turn this into something super fluffy, so I did. It may not be my best, my wrist has been hurting a lot and my fingers do be swollen. But I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After an intense quidditch game, Y/N is really sore and Draco helps her wash up.

Warning(s): None... it’s super super fluffy :)

Word Count: 3.1k

Prompts: 33 & 98

Y/N stumbled into the quidditch changing room and sat onto the nearest bench. She was utterly exhausted from the match. Her team, Gryffindor, had versed Ravenclaw, and even though they had won, it was not an easy fight. Y/N was a beater; thus, she often threw herself in front of the bludgers to wack them with her bat. In this particular game, they had been tied with Ravenclaw at 70 - 70. 

{During the game}

Y/N was scanning the field for bludgers when she noticed Harry had spotted the snitch and was chasing after it. Her heart leaped with joy until she saw it, a bludger heading straight for him. She zoomed towards him without hesitating and raised her bat to hit it away, but then the worst happened. Y/N dropped her bat. The Ravenclaw seeker was hot on Harry’s tail, and if Y/N let the bludger hit him, she knew they’d lose the match, and it would be her fault. So, she grasped her broom and slowly placed her right foot on the wooden handle. Once it was stable, she let go of her broom entirely and lifted her left foot onto the broom. She was now riding it as if it were a surfboard. 

Her eyes narrowed in on the bludger. Just as it was moments away from crashing into Harry, Y/N leaped off her Comet 180 and landed on top of the hurling ball. She gripped the bludger tight and gritted her teeth as she was thrown around in the air. It was getting harder and harder to hold on, but then Y/N heard the cheers from the crowd; Harry had successfully caught the golden snitch. Gryffindor had won. She quickly looked around and found that the bludger was driving her towards the stands. Faced with only two options, Y/N held her breath and let go of the bludger. Screams and gasps erupted from the crowd as she fell. But no spell saved her, and she hit the ground with a thud. Her legs seemed to have taken the brunt of the fall, and her back was definitely affected, but luckily, the bludger had lowered her close to the earth, and when she fell, she only dropped about eight or nine feet. Still, her team promptly rushed over to her with worry in their eyes.

And now she was sitting on an old wooden bench, trying to gather the strength to lift her arms and begin pulling off her boots. Her teammates were already long gone since Madam Hooch had held Y/N back after the game to assess her. By the time the silver-haired woman had determined she was alright, her friends had already headed to the showers. Y/N sighed softly, slowly bent over, and began untying her boots. All while doing her best to ignore the pain. The knot was loose when she heard loud footsteps drawing near. Y/N quickly snatched her wand from her locker, just to be safe, and turned towards the tent entrance. A few moments later, Draco, her boyfriend, came bursting inside. He was terribly out of breath and stopped to put his hands on his knees and regain steady breathing. As his chest heaved, he picked his head up to scan the room, spotting Y/N instantly. A look of relief washed over his face when he saw her, and he straightened his back. “Thank Merlin, you’re still here,” he mumbled while taking long strides towards her. 

“I’m fine, Draco, seriously. You didn’t have to run all the way back here,” she scolded her boyfriend gently, trying to convince him and herself that she was perfectly fine. But the Slytherin paid her no mind. Instead, he kissed her head, knelt down in front of her, and began untying her quidditch shoes. “I can do it myself!” she insisted. Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Alright then, do it,” he retorted while rising from the floor. Y/N gulped. She hadn’t expected Draco to believe her. But, she wasn’t one to admit weakness so easily. She took a deep breath and once again bent herself over and took her thick laces into her hands. Pain spread through her back, but Y/N was determined to prove Draco wrong. She started to untie and watched as the opening of her boot grew wider. Soon enough, she finished and tilted her head upwards to smirk at Draco. But he didn’t seem bothered. 

“Go on then, take it off,” he prompted. Y/N stifled her frown and redirected her attention to her boot. She first tried to lift her leg up to place her calve atop her opposite knee, but once she engaged her thigh muscles, pain washed over her, and she quickly relaxed her leg. 

Next, she attempted to straighten out her leg and push the boot off, rather than pull. She gritted her teeth and slowly raised her foot off the floor, holding it in midair for about two seconds before her leg began to shake, and she dropped it back down. Draco huffed angrily and knelt once again. “Must you push your limits every single game, Y/N? You can’t even hold your foot an inch off the ground!” he reprimanded as he slid off her boot. “Oh, piss off, if I hadn’t made that jump, we would’ve lost the game, and you know it,” she snapped. Despite his obvious anger, Draco delicately slid Y/N’s other shoe off her foot and started unbuckling her knee pads. 

“Y/N, you got extremely lucky. If you had missed your jump, you probably would’ve died,” Draco reminded her with a scowl on his face. “You got lucky, Y/N. You probably would’ve died, Y/N,” the Gryffindor repeated in a mocking tone. Draco threw her knee pad to the floor and rose to his feet. “You’d better fix that attitude,” he spat while glaring at his girlfriend. “Don’t you understand? I almost had to watch you fall to your death. If you had simply lost your footing or couldn’t get a grip on the bludger, I would’ve had to watch you die.”

Suddenly, Y/N truly realized the risk she had taken. Draco was right; she could’ve really hurt herself when she decided to take that leap. She looked up at Draco and saw he was still quite angry. But behind the fury, Y/N could see the hurt in his eyes. A sigh escaped her, and she rubbed her hands down her face. “I’m sorry, Dray, you’re right. But I had to do something, if I didn’t then, we would've lost, and it would’ve been my fault. And what if Harry had gotten hurt? You know how people are; they’d be so angry with me for failing to protect precious Potter. I’ve already fucked up in the past, and I couldn’t—”

“Shh, shh. It’s alright darling, I know,” Draco hushed her as he sat beside Y/N and took her into his arms. “Look, I’m sorry for getting mad at you. You did something brave out on that pitch, and all I’ve done is berate you when I should’ve been congratulating you. But you’ve got to understand that you scared me, Y/N. You put your life in danger just to win a game.” Y/N turned to look at Draco, her eyebrows raised. “Technically, I always put myself in danger. It is quidditch, you know,” she said pointedly. Draco rolled his eyes and kissed her head. “You know what I mean,” he muttered. Silence fell over them for a few minutes as they leaned against one another. 

“Come on, love. Let’s get you to the showers,” Draco said while rising to his feet. Y/N took his outstretched hand and winced as he pulled up. She gathered her belongings and walked with Draco around the corner to the bathroom. Y/N walked through the door, not expecting her boyfriend to follow her inside. “What’re you doing?” she asked accusingly. “Following you to the showers,” he answered plainly. Y/N paused. “But why?” she questioned since his reply hadn’t given her any new information. “So I can help you,” he told her. Y/N scoffed and shook her head at him. “I don’t need help showering, Draco,” she stubbornly stated. 

“I think you do,” he replied.

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t need help,” she hissed.

Draco sighed. “Just let me help you, darling. Please?” he pleaded with her. Y/N glared at him. “No,” she spat. “Don’t you have homework to do? I thought you mentioned having that Transfiguration essay to write,” she said as she gripped the edge of her jersey. “You’re more important,” Draco told her firmly. Y/N blushed and began to pull her shirt off, but she stopped once it reached her head. Her sore back screamed in pain; she couldn’t raise her arms any further. Instead, she resorted to wiggling and flailing about, hoping it would somehow slide her shirt off. Her arms began to ache, and she was about to give up, but luckily, an external force named Draco gently pulled it off. 

Her boyfriend chuckled at her with a smug look on his face. “Now may I help you?” he asked, eyebrow cocked. Y/N grumbled to herself but placed her hands on Draco’s shoulders. He pressed a quick kiss to her head and stuck his thumbs through her belt loops. Slowly, he pulled her pants down and knelt on the floor to help her step out of them. Then, he did the same for her underwear. Y/N was able to get her bra off by herself since it didn’t require raising her arms. And once she did, she realized she was stark naked. A blush heated her cheeks, and she quickly covered herself, feeling self-conscious.

Draco laughed and shook his head at her. “Darling, I’ve seen you naked before. Why so shy?” he asked. Y/N nibbled on her lip and hesitantly lowered her hands. “It’s just... different like this,” she said quietly as she tried to push away her embarrassment. Y/N wasn’t naked to have sex with Draco; she was naked, so he could help bathe her. And somehow, that was more intimate than sex. 

Y/N and turned towards the stall, ready to walk into it, but then she second-guessed herself. She glanced at the shower then back to Draco, not sure if she should wait for him. It seemed as though her lover had sensed her hesitation. “Start the water; I’m right behind you,” he assured her. So Y/N turned the knob and quickly stepped out of the way to avoid getting blasted with cold water. Her eyes returned to Draco as she waited for the shower to heat up. She looked him up and down as he yanked off his shirt and hung it up on top of hers. His now exposed pale chest and torso looked tempting, but Y/N kept her hands at her sides. She stuck her hand out to check the water temperature. It was warm enough, so she stepped under it, letting her eyes flutter shut.

Draco soon finished undressing and moved into the stall, pulling the curtain closed behind them. Y/N was wetting her hair when she felt a sharp pinch on her stomach. “Hey!” she yelped, opening her eyes to see Draco smirking at her. He quickly pressed a kiss to her forehead and rubbed where he pinched. “I saw you staring. You’re not very sneaky, are you, love?” he teased. Y/N swatted his shoulder and turned around to face the water spouting from the showerhead. On instinct, she reached up to rustle her hair but was soon halted by the return of searing pain in her back. Draco noticed this and gently put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing softly. “Just relax darling, I’ll do everything for you,” he said sweetly. Y/N huffed, still holding onto her pride. But then Draco’s hands landed on her head and began massaging shampoo into her hair, and an involuntary sigh of pleasure escaped her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone washed her hair for her; it felt incredible.

After Draco shampooed her hair, he switched places with Y/N. His back was now facing the water. He rinsed her hair until all the soap was down the drain. “You doing okay, love?” he asked, checking in on his girlfriend. Y/N nodded, too relaxed to speak. He switched places with her again and gathered some conditioner in his hands. “Y/N,” he called. She hummed in reply. “I think you should see Madam Pomfrey,” he told her quietly. A soft whine fell from Y/B's lips. “I know you’re only sore, but she probably has something to ease the pain.”

Y/N adamantly shook her head. “I’m fine, Draco. I don’t need to see her,” she argued. Her boyfriend sighed as he worked the product into her hair. “You’re probably right,” he muttered sadly. Y/N instantly filled with regret upon hearing the defeated tone in his voice. She really didn’t want to make a stop at the Hospital Wing, but she knew it would put Draco at ease. Reluctantly, she sighed and said, “We can stop by before bed.” A soft kiss was then planted on her back. “Thank you, darling.”

As Y/N waited for the conditioner to seep in, she turned around to face Draco, making sure her hair wasn’t under the stream. She kissed him sweetly and pulled him into a gentle hug. The Slytherin wrapped his arms around her and slowly began rubbing her tender back. Y/N groaned and let her head fall onto his chest. “My poor girl,” Draco muttered. “How bad does it hurt, love?” he asked. Y/N closed her eyes and pressed herself closer to him. “When I lift my arms, it feels as though it’s been lit on fire,” she confessed. Draco hissed and dug his thumbs into her back, trying to give her a deeper massage. “Same for your legs then?” Y/N nodded. “I think I really strained them when I took that jump.” Her boyfriend sighed and gently pushed her back under the water. 

Y/N once again instinctively reached for her head and felt pain wash over her. She felt tears of frustration well up in her eyes, and she let out a soft cry. “I know, darling, I know,” Draco consoled. “It’s been a long day, let’s rinse your hair, wash you up, and we can go. Alright?” he asked. Y/N nodded as her tears began to fall. Her lover pressed yet another kiss to her temple and grabbed a nearby rag, squirting soap onto it. He squeezed out the excess water and gingerly pressed it against her skin, where he began rubbing. He first cleaned her arms, then began scrubbing her chest. When he reached her breasts, he very carefully dragged the cloth over them, making sure they got enough soap. 

Y/N wiped her tears as Draco continued to clean her body. She looked down at him as he rubbed her legs. Suddenly, she noticed the fact she hadn’t shaved and was covered in hair. She was immensely uncomfortable with her boyfriend seeing this, so she attempted to pull her leg away from him. Draco promptly looked up at her. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he questioned, a worried expression on his face. Y/N shook her head but said nothing. “Then why’d you pull away?” She averted her eyes and breathed in deeply before saying, “I didn’t shave.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed together, and he looked back at her legs. “Y/N, do you actually think I care that you’ve got hair on your legs? That’s perfectly normal, darling,” he told her as he pushed himself up from the floor. His eyes found hers, and Y/N felt her stomach churn. “I would never shame you or love you less simply because you have body hair. I don’t care if other people, or even you, think it's unbecoming. It’s a part of you, and I love all of you. Understand?” he asked, his tone firm. Y/N nodded, and Draco kissed her nose, making her giggle. “Good. Now, let’s get you all rinsed off, and we can head out of here, yeah?” 

Y/N stepped fully underneath the water and let all the soap on her body wash away. Draco reached for her shoulders and turned her around so he could squeeze out her hair. He did this a few times before deeming it free of conditioner. Y/N then turned off the water and soon found herself wrapped in a big fluffy towel. “Oh!” she yelped in surprise as Draco twirled her around to face him. He smirked and began to rub her arms up and down in an attempt to get her body warm. 

“Stay there,” he instructed her. “I’m going to find some extra towels,” he said. Y/N nodded and watched as her lover ran butt naked to the other side of the bathroom. She giggled and giggled until he returned to their stall and hastily threw a smaller towel onto her head. “Shut up,” he muttered. Y/N stifled her laughs as she pulled the towel off her face. Draco shook his head at her and tied his own towel around his waist. “Give me that,” he said, gesturing to the cloth in her hands. Y/N handed it to him. He placed it on her head and aggressively rubbed it against her. “What’re you doing?” she yelled from underneath the towel. “Drying your hair,” he replied. “That’s not how you do it, you git,” Y/N laughed. 

“Well, this is how my mum used to do it when I was little,” Draco argued as his girlfriend continued to giggle. Soon, however, he removed the towel to find a messy-haired Y/N. “Cutie,” he whispered. “No, you,” Y/N retorted. Draco narrowed his eyes. “No, you’re definitely the cutie here.”

“I beg to differ, I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Draco!” Y/N whined. Her lover chuckled and quickly pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tight. “You’re the cutest, sweetest, most adorable person ever. Alright?” Draco asked. Y/N sighed and nodded her head. “Fine, I’m the cutest,” she agreed. Draco smirked and planted a kiss on her lips. “That you are my love. That you are.” A momentary silence fell over the pair as they held each other close. But then Y/N lifted her head and gazed into Draco’s grey eyes. He stared right back with unwavering adoration. “Thank you for helping me; I’m sorry for giving you a hard time,” she apologized. Her boyfriend smiled softly. “That’s alright. I’ll always give you help, even if you don’t think you need it,” he replied. Y/N nestled her head against his still wet chest and sighed happily. “I love you,” she whispered. Draco hummed and began swaying her left and right. “I love you too.”

Taglist: @beiahadid @pastelpuffbar @cutie1365 @dracoxmgg @lumlfy @sambucky8 @emilianamason @raplinethereal @dixiethemorab24 @xoxohollands @prongsandprancer @ch0kemedracomalfoy

#draco lucius malfoy #Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco malfoy x yn #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x gryffindor #draco x gryffindor!reader #draco fluff #draco reader insert #draco fuckingmalfoy

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Extra Credit

based on this cause @avhrodite and I were texting, and she told me to write it! so this is for you miss bailey <3

also feedback is always appreciated! literally rb, comment, or an anon ask means the world to fanfic writers, now that tumblr’s algorithm is messed up.

enjoy 7.6k of professor!harry lovelies!

also the intimidating as fuck photo that inspired this, and will be used in the story!

Sexuality Studies. Room 3017.

You had stalled from walking into class with a nervous gut feeling in your stomach with a heavy textbook in your arms, too big to be put in your backpack, but it felt like your book was weighing you down. People were walking around each other to find a vacant seat as you stood there next to the door as you waited till the last minute to walk in and take your seat.

There were a few reasons why you were nervous to walk in. One, it was basically sex class. Your friend had taken the class a few semesters ago, and had told you the basics of it and the rundown. There was a lot of sex talking towards the end.

And although, you’ve had had sex before, you still felt like you were inexperienced. Your sex life was boring, and nonexistent as of a month ago when you broke it off with your, now ex, friends with benefits. He just wasn’t doing the job, like at all. He never made sure you were having a good time or getting off. And that’s just one of the reasons why you broke it off with him. Luckily, he wasn’t mad and didn’t ask questions. Just said ‘oh, okay’ and bid his goodbye. That had made you a bit sad, knowing he didn’t care whatsoever. You two had only been fucking for a month, and the excitement had left your body the first night you slept with him.

The second reason goes along well with the first, and that’s because you aren’t that comfortable. Again, you’ve sex, but you weren’t comfortable in yourself--your sexuality. You never really had time or experience to explore your body or others because you’ve only slept with two people. In that sense, you didn’t know what you liked sexually and what your partner liked, other than blowjobs, handjobs, and being able to cum while fucking you. But there was more to it; you wanted the details, the ticks, sensitive spots, everything. But you’ve slept with lousy frat boys who didn’t care enough to ask if you had finished.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing that you have about two minutes before you have to go in. You take a deep breath, walking over to the opposite side of the wall, preparing yourself to walk in. You don’t know why it was so hard for you to just walk in and sit down. The thought of having to sit through an hour and a half class that is mainly about sex isn’t that hard to deal with either, but your insecurities and anxiety is getting the better of you. With a couple of neck rolls and inhales to deep exhales, you were ready before you heard a voice next to you.

“Nervous about the first day?” You look up to find an incredibly attractive man smiling down at you. His smile had made you blush and his intent eye contact had made you nervous. The way he just looks insanely sexy, and you think his hair is better than yours. He wears a simple button down shirt with two birds next to the collar, along with black jeans and boots. And you think, he’s so good looking and dresses well too. For a student, you don’t see anyone dress or look like him at all.

“Uh, kinda? I don’t know,” you say as you are not quite sure what to answer, so you said the easiest thing that didn’t have to do with how you’re feeling right now.

“No need to be nervous. This semester will go by quickly and I heard the professor is really cool too,” the man says with a reassuring smile, and you felt a bit better because he was right. This class would be a breeze and then you wouldn’t have to retake it, unless you fail.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you. Uh, do you want to sit next to me?” You made the bold move to ask him, and it had shocked you. You never made the first move, but you figured that you needed more friends anyways.

“Oh, thank you, but can’t do that. Let’s go in, shall we?” He waves his hand out, leading you to go first.

You cheeks were filled with embarrassment, thinking that your bold move was a stupid move. Of course, he didn’t want to sit next to you. He barely knows you. You roll your eyes at yourself, making your way to the first row as all the seats behind the front row were taken, and you didn’t want to take the time to look around. You take a seat as your head sank lower from awkwardness you had felt, and you set your book down on the desk and heard your professor speak.

“Hello, class. Welcome to ‘Sexuality Studies.’ I’m Professor Styles. Shall we get started?” Your mouth had been open the entire time he was introducing himself. Shocked was an understatement as you didn’t realize you were talking to your professor outside of the class, but that hadn’t made your embarrassing moment less worse.

How did you not realize that? You should’ve seen it coming because you were thinking about how no student on campus dresses or looks the way he does, and you didn’t think to put the pieces together.

But, fuck.

He was sexy as a ‘student’, but as the professor, that was a different story. You had felt the weird feeling in your stomach, triggering your arousal as you watched him talk to the entirety of the class about what’s to be expected. You turned around slightly and observed the room; noticing that most of the class were girls and there were a few guys, but the female population dominated the class. All the girls had hearts in their eyes, twirling, and biting their lip as they stared at their new professor; probably hoping they would get some extra credit in the middle of the semester to raise their grade or purposefully failing their test so he can call them into his office and they can have classic office sex.

The thought had made your eyes roll. Not at the thought of office sex because everyone knows that’s hot, but the thought of purposefully doing horrible in the class to fuck the professor is beyond you.

The class had gone by rather quickly, Professor Styles only talking about the basics of what everyone is going to learn such as culture, biological, health, anatomy, art, etc.

You walked out of the class in a hurry, not looking at your new professor and anticipated the next time you’ll meet.

The month had gone by rather smoothly, only taking two classes for the semester, so your workload isn’t too bad. The occasional thought about thinking your professor was a student had haunted you, and you think about it a bit more than you would like; feeling quite embarrassed and you’d hope that he had forgotten all about it.

You were sat at the coffee shop, head in your laptop and notes that you had taken during lecture as you were starting on your paper that is due in a little over two weeks. You were so into your introduction that your fingers were typing away on their own, that you didn't feel the presence of someone beside you.

“Hi. You’re in my sexuality class, right?” A voice from your right becomes present, and you look up, seeing your incredibly attractive professor looking down at you with a smile. There was no way in getting out of this one.

“Yes. Mr. Styles, hi,” you say nervously, but trying your best to hide it with your smile.

“Thought I recognized ya. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. I’m actually working on your paper right now,” you chuckle a bit.

“Are ya? What are you writing it on?” You get a bit sidetracked, realizing that he’s still standing and all of your stuff sits on the opposite side of the table. You reach over to move it onto your lap.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you offer. Harry debates for a second, and sees that there’s no harm in sitting with your student, so he gladly takes the seat across from you. “But I’m writing it on the fine line between masculinity and femininity.”

“Ahh, yes. That’s one of my favorite topics that we discussed,” he says.

“Yeah, me too. Pretty important for this day in age.”

“I’m right there with ya,” he agrees.

For the next 20 minutes, you and Harry talk about some main points. Discussing and going over what ideas you had in mind as Harry listens while nodding his head. He notices how passionate you are with the topic of your paper, and he appreciates the passion. Students will lazily write this paper, and it really shows in their work that makes him a bit disappointed because he had thought that he made the class fun; adding a few jokes and having the student participate with the lecture.

But listening to you talk about all the ideas that you wrote down; so far from the earth as you keep talking as he listens intently to you. You’re a sweet person, he’s noticed. You don’t participate all that much in class, but he figured that’s because you’re just a tad bit shy. And he’s still amused at the fact that you thought he was a student, which flattered him. But in all honesty, he can pass as one, and it wasn’t the first time someone mistaken him for a student.

Just as you were finished talking, a hint of pink made your cheeks flushed as you realized you were talking quite a bit, and keeping him from doing whatever he was supposed to. “I’m sorry. I tend to talk a lot when I get into things.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I’m glad you told me your ideas because I think they’re great.” He checks the time on his phone and sees that he should get going, and his coffee cup is empty already. “But I should get going. Don’t hesitate to ask me about anything for the paper. I’ll see you in class.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles. Have a great rest of your day,” you bid him goodbye as he softly says ‘you too.’

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Although you had been comfortable talking to him, you have never actually had a close conversation with any of your professors, really. Especially not outside of campus. But you really did feel comfortable. You figured that it’s because Harry is in a way, younger than most professors—at least he looks young.

The rest of your time at the coffee shop was spent finishing up the second paragraph and your coffee before you head back to your apartment.

The paper was due in a week, and you felt confident about turning it in on time and doing a great job on it. But that did not stop you from going into Mr. Styles’ office during his office hours, and he did say not to hesitate to ask if you had any questions, so you were using that to your advantage to make your paper even better.

He was surprised to see you just after two days of seeing him at the coffee shop that happened the week prior; asking him how to rephrase some things and seeing where some ideas fit into the paragraphs that are already written. And Harry happily helped you. Although he thinks you don’t need help at all, seeing as you’re right on track on the topic.

But you had felt a sudden surge of confidence that has never hit you before. And you can tell yourself that you’re comfortable enough to ask him questions all you want, but in reality, you wanted to keep talking to him and most importantly, keep seeing him.

He had this sense of comfort to him that made you feel safe. You never felt the awkward tension that there is in when talking to other professors, and you were glad for it. Mr. Styles had made it a safe space for his students to talk to him. And aside from asking him about school related things, you two had gotten to know each other after the important questions were asked. The conversations were harmless, and you looked forward to them everytime.

A knock was heard on his office door and he told whoever was behind it to come in. You walked in with a smile, laptop and notebook held to your chest, walking in slowly as you closed the door behind you.

“Hi, Mr. Styles. Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, “no, no. How can I help you?” Harry had—and was still trying—to keep it professional between you two. And although nothing had happened, he can’t help but stop the flutter of his heart when you would walk in his class or his office as you gave him a small that he adored. He also noticed how concentrated you are during class; making sure to take every single note and word that he says, making him smile at the thought.

“Uh, I was kind of stuck on something that I could definitely use your help with.” 

“Sure thing. That’s what I’m here for,” he gives you a smile, and you open your notebook, showing him the many marks and scribbles that you had planted out when brainstorming.

“So I came up with this idea because I thought it would be important to talk about the history of masculinity and femininity. I didn’t want to just talk about the modern times as of now. But maybe research how it affected people back in the day when they weren’t acting as their…assigned sexuality, as you could say.”

“That sounds great. You can talk about that and during the times of the first pride march. That would definitely be interesting. But I would say not to go too into it, it’s a pretty straightforward topic, and there’s just a lot that is covered during those times. Just so you don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he gives his opinion. You listen carefully and take in his words as if you’re making a mental list of things you should and shouldn’t write about.

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just wanted to ask you that,” you say as you close your notebook, but not getting up to leave yet.

“Okay, can I ask you something this time?”

“Uh, sure,” you respond nervously.

“I see that you’re pretty much on track of the paper, like you know what you’re talking about. And you seem really confident in what you want to say, which is good. And I’m all ears when it comes to students wanting feedback, but I just have to ask….” anxiety boils through your throat. “Is coming to see me practically 2 or 3 times a week have to do with your paper?” You take a deep inhale, but don’t let your breath loose. He read you extremely well, you have to say. And it was a bold move on Harry’s part to ask that because if you say the opposite, then he assumed pretty hard.

You finally let go of the breath you were holding in and answered, “no.”

“No. It doesn’t have to do with your paper?” You shake your head in confirmation. “Then what does it have to do with?” He asks, and you think he definitely already knows what’s going on, but needs you to say the words.

“I just…wanted to see you,” you say softly.

“And why is that?” At this point, he’s teasing you already. Probably wanting to make a fool out of yourself so he could go home and laugh about it to his girlfriend or boyfriend, which you assume he has. And the bold assumption that you had thought he felt that pull towards you was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the second time in front of him.

But the remains of the confidence were still pooling in your head, and you figured you had nothing to lose.

“I wanted to see you because… I can’t deny this attraction I feel towards you. And it’s not based solely on your looks either because no can hide the fact that you’re insanely attractive, but I’ve gotten to know you for who you are this past week and we had some good talks, which was nice because no one has ever gotten to know me well enough for me to fall for them within a week.”

You finish your confession with a straight face, but there was still a hint of hope that he would tell you he felt the same way.

“And on the topic of no one getting to know me, and this is a sexuality class and you’ve recently started talking about sex; I’ve never truly had the chance to explore with partners sexually and explore my sexuality more in depth than just someone sticking their dick inside me, and calling it good sex. So, you talking to me and getting to know me means a lot because no one wants to waste their time on what I like and what I’m into.”

You had said a mouthful, and it can be heard as inappropriate to say that to your professor, but again, why would a sexuality teacher judge you based on your past sex life?

A minute had passed that immediately felt like an hour. The only thing that was heard was the ticking of the wall clock, and that made the tension even more unbearable.

You get up from out of the chair, “I’m gonna go. Thanks for the help, Mr Styles.” 

Before you reach for the door, he finally decides to speak, “Wait.” You turn around slowly and watch him get up from his chair, and walk towards you. His eyes are dark, and they don’t leave yours as he reaches you.

The proximity is close enough that you could lean forward and be pressed up against his chest, but you’re afraid that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you do that.

“You’ve fallen for me?” Is the thing that he could respond with after all that you’ve said.

“Yes. I’ve developed a crush on you, well, more than a crush because I do like you,” you say as you look up at him. He looks down at you intently, lips rolled into his mouth. He smells amazing from how close you are, that it’s like a potion that keeps luring you in, wanting more.

“Do ya?”

“I think I make myself pretty clear on that,” you respond with a bit of sass.

“Don’t give me attitude,” his tone changed to dominant, and a pool in your panties made itself present.

“What are you gonna do about it, Mr Styles?” You test, and move closer to him, lips almost touching. You can possibly reach up and your lips will be in sync. A smirk comes to play on his face as if you’ve made the wrong move, but you’re so ready for what’s to come.

And for a split second, it looked like he was leaning in a tad bit to go in for a kiss, but retracts back. “I’ll see you in my next class.” With that, he pulls back and walks back to his chair.

You’re left stunned, mouth slightly open, surprised he didn’t make a move. He didn’t even tell you if he felt the same way, and if it were any other day, you would’ve felt extremely sad, but there was so much tension in the room you needed to go home and take care of yourself.

And that’s what you did.

Once you got back home, you ran a bath for yourself and sat in it as you ran over your skin, leading to where you ached the most. Many thoughts of Mr. Styles doing this to you as he sat behind you in the bath, knowing that you would make a mess on his long fingers and pretty hands. And that definitely helped you reach our orgasm as you moan out his name, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly odd about it.

You finally turned in your paper on the last day it was due, and you were extremely happy with it. You added the history of not acting like your original self, taking Mr. Styles’ advice and not going too in depth with it. This has marked as a halfway point to graduating with your bachelors, and you were ecstatic.

It had also been a week since the tension filled scene that had happened in your professor’s office, and you haven’t been back since. Seeming as you didn’t need to since there were no needed assignments, but you had thought you would visit him in his office everyday after what you had confessed.

It didn’t get easier sitting in his class as he stood up in front of everyone looking so hot as he wore a crisp blue button down with a polka dot tie, and a pink blazer over it. He knew your secret. He knew that you had the hots for him. And he knew that he didn’t say anything to reciprocate those feelings. And you tried very hard not to let it get to you.

The lecture had ted to your paper topic: masculinity and femininity. But this time, it was open for class discussion. You weren’t big on talking in class; just preferred listening to everyone’s opinions and making your own in your head, but the ignorance that someone had made you argue with him.

“I personally feel like men should stay on the masculinity side, and women on the femininity side.” You had turned around to see the guy who had said that. He was wearing a football jersey of the university, laughing with his two friends.

“And why do you think that?” Mr Styles follows up.

“It’s simple. You shouldn’t act as if you’re someone you’re not-”

“That makes a good point in your argument though,” you interrupt, turning in your seat to look at the jock at the top. “You shouldn’t act like someone you’re not, so why would you act like someone you don’t want to be?” The guy had shut up, making you smirk. “I just think that being masculine and feminine as your biological gender is a social construct. It just takes away the substance of that person when people look down on them for being true to themselves. So, why does masculinity only apply to men, and femininity only apply to women?”

Harry smirks at your discussion. It had surprised him that you spoke up in his class, but it didn’t surprise him when you spoke up about this topic. You had definitely shut down his other student, and he was proud of you for that.

The class was dismissed and as you were making your way towards the door, someone stopped you.

“Hey, really great argument back there.” It was the ignorant jock.

“Thanks.” You walked out of the class to get out of everyone’s way, stopping at the wall across from the class.

“I didn’t mean to sound so douchey back there, but what you said really got me thinking, and I see where you’re coming from.”

“I’m glad. You learn something new everyday…”

Harry was watching you the entire time you left your seat to when his student stopped you to have a chat. He had thought you were going to shut him down for being ignorant, but he saw you smile and laugh a little, making him breath deeply as he glared at you, brows furrowed, and coffee cup in his hand. Harry then sees him take out his phone, obvious that he’s asking for his number and he sees you blush as you talk.

Harry tries to control his breathing, and in another world, steam would be coming out of his ears. He walks towards the door, thinking that he was going to call you into his class, but decides against it and shuts the door.

It was already nearing the end of the semester, and you have yet to talk to him.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you had slightly gotten over his unreciprocated feelings, you would have probably dropped out of the class and waited another semester to finish. But you couldn’t let him do that to you; you were way too close to the finish line.

Mr. Styles was in his final topic of speaking about the fun part of sex, and how it could be pleasurable. He talked about the anatomy of it at first, moving onto the techniques. And the techniques he used on how to pleasure a woman and man had you hot in your seat. He demonstrated using his finger, showing the class the way to finger someone, and you couldn’t help but cross your legs. And you were sure everyone was doing so as well.

The simple demonstration of his fingers making a curling motion as if he’s fingering someone made you clench. You had been right about his fingers bringing you to pleasure, and all you wanted to do was rush home and imagine it again since you have a full visual.

“Okay, class. I have an extra credit opportunity for you.” The class perks up at that. You had a low A in the class, and although you were confident about the final, you didn’t want to risk it, so you listened.

“Since this is a sexuality class, I hoped I didn’t make anyone uncomfortable on what I just did,” the class laughed a bit, and you smiled. “For this extra credit, I want you to go to a sex store and buy a toy that can be pretty much anything. Come back and show me, and I will mark you down for points. I don’t require a paper on this, so it is fairly easy, but this is to show that you should be comfortable in your sexuality, and walking into a sex store should be easy for you because there’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever because everyone has needs and if someone judges you, then they’re not getting laid.” The class laughs again. “You can return it if you want after I mark you down or you can keep it. A win win for everyone! Okay, class dismissed.”

You walked out of class with a smile on your face as Mr Styles lightened up everyone’s mood as everyone was stressing for finals. You were glad for it; the weight on your shoulders were still heavy, but a good laugh was needed.

You had two weeks to buy and show him the extra credit, and two weeks until you graduated. The days were counting down at this point, and before you knew it, it was the final week.

You had passed both of your finals with flying colors, and you had the rest of the week to finally relax as you were graduating at the end of the week. The apartment was a mess, and you finally had time to tidy it up a bit; fix the mess of papers on your kitchen table and put your laundry away. You also used that time to finally go out and get your extra credit.

It would be a lie if you had told yourself that you were too lazy to go out and actually buy your extra credit assignment, but that was far from the truth. If you had energy to get up and clean around your home, then you could have easily gotten up and buy a sex toy.

But it was the anxious feeling that you had that you were going to see him so up close, and actually get to talk to him again that stopped you.

The crush on your professor hadn’t died done any less, but it hadn’t increased either. You were stuck in a plateau of not getting over him and not falling for him more. You figured it’s because you see him every week, so you were hoping by this time, you were on your way to getting over him.

You made your way into the sex shop with nerves as you haven’t been into one before, and it was a very relaxed set up. Various of sex toys used for both genders were set against the wall, and a red curtain that led to something in the back that, you assumed, was the more extreme items.

You scanned the toys, figuring that it would be easy to just get a vibrator. Your hands shook as you went to grab the boxed toy, and you remembered Mr Styles’ words; there’s no reason to be ashamed in buying any of these, and that relaxed you.

The employee who rang you up was the sweetest. She greeted you with a bubbly smile, and told you that you had made a great choice because she has the same one. You didn’t tell her that it was for a school thing, because that would sound really weird, and you didn’t tell her that you were planning on returning it later on.

You drove to campus, hoping that Mr Styles was in his office. The drive was a 30 minute drive as you lived a bit far from the school, but you didn’t mind the drive.

Harry heard a knock on his office door, telling them to enter. His eyes perked up as you made yourself present as you opened the door. His heart was beating in his chest as he saw you; remembering the last time you were in his office and missing the presence of you being close again.

“Hi. How are you?” He pointed to the chair, and you sat down. Your heart was pounding as well, feeling nervous about being in his office again.

“I’m doing good. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. What can I do for you?” He asks politely. You reach into your bag and grab the box to show him your extra credit assignment. “Ahh,” he lets out as he sees the box. “Perfect. Let me mark you down for that.”

“Thank you,” you say as you put the toy back inside your bag. “Can I ask how I did on the final? If you’ve already finished grading it.”

“Yes. You did really well, actually,” he says as he shuffles through his papers, looking for the grade book. “Ah, here. You got a 95.” That made you smile. You were quite confident for the final, but hearing that you did well brightened up your day. “And that boosted up your grade to a 94, plus the extra credit, that will go up to a 97.”

Your eyes widened; you had passed both classes with an A, and you were extremely excited about that; and it takes everything in you to not jump up and scream. “Wow, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You deserve it. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at you, and your heart swoons, telling him a thank you. “You graduate at the end of the week right?” You nod. “Excited?”

“Very. I really only needed to take this class, but I was putting it off because my friend took this course and said it was pretty sexual, and that made me a bit uncomfortable if I’m being honest. But I really enjoyed this class…you made it bearable.” Harry blushes, thinking how happy he is that you took the class with him.

“Well, I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he says .

There was silence that washed over you two with the slightest bit of tension; debating if either one should bring up what happened the last time you were in his office. You were feeling so many things at the moment, and he was too, but you were sure it was inappropriate to talk about it when technically, nothing even happened.

“I should get going,” you say instead.

“Sure thing. I’ll see you…uh, around,” he says hesitantly. You tell him goodbye and walk out of his office, probably the last time you would ever see him.

You had finally graduated, and you couldn’t be more happy and proud for yourself. A relieved feeling ran through you when you had put on your cap and gown, and the thought made you tear up. You were done, for now, before you had to go to grad school and get your masters degree. But either way, you were ecstatic.

Now a week has gone by since graduation, and you decided to do some errands. You also needed to make your way to the sex shop and return your item.

As you entered the door you had walked through once before, your eyes immediately spotted the familiar man who had made your heart flutter by the simple act of eye contact. And if it was by instincts, Harry turns his head towards the door and sees you standing at the entrance. He hadn’t seen you since the time in his office and he saw you walk for graduation, if that counts.

There was no way of avoiding him, so you walked over to him. “Hi, Mr Styles.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore. You graduated already,” he smirks, and you chuckle.

“Then what should I call you?”

Yours. “Harry.”

You tilt your head to the side, seeing how fitting his name is on him. “Okay, Harry. What are you doing here anyways?” The question had slipped out of your mouth, but you think that there’s nothing awkward with it.

“Oh, uh, just looking for a cock ring,” he says honestly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m actually returning my extra credit purchase,” you chuckle.

“Are ya? Why don't you keep it?”

“I don’t know…I actually never used a toy before, and I got a bit intimidated by it.” Harry nods understandingly.

“See, a win win for everyone. You either get your money back or you get a nice orgasm out of it,” he laughs, and you agree with him.“I think you should keep it. This is the time you get to explore your sexuality.” You debate a bit. He was right, and you did have some spare time as of now, so you decided to keep it; see what this thing can really do.

“If you’d like…would you like to get some lunch with me?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes brighten. “Of course.”

It was like you were waiting for this moment to come. You had waited for him to ask you out and properly get to know each other outside of school. Harry had taken you to a small shop that sold burgers and fries, and you two sat in the patio of the shop; talking, eating, and laughing at stories you told each other.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, nervously. “When I told you I liked you in your office that one time, why didn’t you say anything back?”

“To be honest, I was nervous. You’re 22 and I’m six years older than you, and although that didn’t matter much to me, you were on the edge of graduating. I couldn’t risk that, even with how much I like you. The thought of getting caught and losing your chance to graduate, and possibly your acceptance for your masters, would just be selfish on my part because I couldn’t keep it in my pants… So I waited until you graduated; didn’t even know if I was going to see you again if I’m honest.”

You understood well on why he didn’t do anything to reciprocate his feelings, and you were grateful he didn’t until now.

By the end of it, you didn’t want the day to end so you invited him to your apartment.

You two sat on your couch, which thankfully you cleaned the place before, and talked some more and put on a movie. You two were inching closer to one another until you both were cuddling. You had rested your legs on his as he runs his fingers over your ankles, scratching your skin lightly.

You were breathing heavily, wanting to just make more than just innocent touches. As if Harry read your mind, he turned his head to look at you; a striking look in his eyes as you both look at each other. The air was heavy, sexual tension coming in hot.

“Harry…”

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

Harry wastes no time in connecting his lips with yours. The softness of your lips meeting his is enough to drive him crazy. The pull you have on his hair makes him let out a moan into your mouth as you whimper into his. Chests are pulled close together, but not close enough as the hold on each other is tight; afraid one might let go.

Harry found himself in your bedroom, and it seemed like he blanked out during that time. Your kisses probably just pulled him into another world, where he debated if this was real life or if he was dreaming it. It was all real, but it was lovely to dream about.

You sat on the bed as you continued to kiss while Harry was standing above you; him leaning down and you reaching up. You were close to his hard on, and it took everything in him not to drop his pants and have you taste him, but it wasn’t going to be about him.

This is going to be about you.

You’d managed to get both of your shirts off, wanting yourself bare and to see his chest. You were surprised with the amount of tattoos that littered his skin. It was beautiful and raw, and him. You went to press a kiss to the butterfly on his stomach; the only one you can reach, and trailing down to the vines on his hips. Harry throws his head back, loving the feeling of your lips on his. You reach for his pants and before you can fully unbutton, he stops you.

“No, no. Tonight’s about you, baby,” he says as his face is close to yours and he kisses the tip of your nose. You nod slightly, feeling yourself blush; and he pushes your shoulder back so you’re fully laying down on your bed. “You want this, right?” Your head nods quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. “Need words, love.”

“Yes. I want this so bad.” The words come out quickly, eagerly. Harry smirks at your response, and kisses down your stomach towards the hem of your pants.

He fully removes your bottoms, only leaving your panties, and Harry thinks that you’re just a sight. “God, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he says smiling. His words made you blush, shying away from him by turning your head. “Nuh uh, don’t get shy on me now, my love. It’s just me. You’re comfortable with me, right?”

“Of course,” you respond, remembering that he prefers words rather than gestures.

“I’m glad.”

He continues kissing along the hem of your panties, teasing you slightly by dragging his tongue along your skin. The feeling makes you whimper and buck your hips slightly; wanting more than his kisses.

The fast motion of your panties swiftly being removed catches you off guard as you look down and see Harry looking at your bare pussy with hungry eyes. “Look at you. Fuck.” It takes everything in him to not devour you right then and there, but he wanted this moment to last and for you to enjoy yourself. He has been waiting for this moment the first time you walked into his office, and he couldn’t wait to get a taste of you.

“Harry…” you whimper.

“Yes?”

“Please just lick me already.”

Harry kneels on the floor, kissing your inner thighs before taking one long lick up your pussy. The feeling of his tongue makes you moan out loud from the built up tension that you’ve been filled up with since the beginning of the semester.

“Fuck, so good,” he says, going in for another lick, but doesn’t stop this time. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it as well as giving it kitten licks. Your hands fall to his hair as you tug, and your face falls to the side as you try and drown your moans against the mattress.

You continue moaning, but they’re muffled and Harry looks up at you. “No, none of that. Don’t hide away your moans. Wanna hear ya, baby. Let me know I’m licking you up just right--just how you like it,” he says and gets back to eating you out. You give him an ‘okay’ before wailing out in pleasure.

The thought had surprised you as you’ve never been with anyone who made sure you were feeling good and alright. And you absolutely loved it.

Harry’s fingers enter you, pumping and curling and finding your g spot. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Who got you this wet?” He teases.

“You.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You, Mr Styles.” Although you have been calling that more than you called him Harry, his name coming out of your mouth as you’re a moaning mess makes his cock even harder. He stares at you above him with dark eyes and nibbles on the skin of your inner thighs.

“You say you wanna explore? That no one has ever taken the time to make you feel good? Is that right, baby?” He says as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

“Mhm. No one has ever fucked me good enough for me to stay,” you say in an innocent and teasing tone, knowing that Harry will be the exact person that will do that for you.

“How about we have a little fun? With a certain vibrator of yours that you decided not to return? Do ya want that?”

“God, yes please.” Harry kisses your stomach, up to your chest, and then your lips before his fingers slip out and he walks over to unbox the new vibrator. It was a vibrator that you were able to put inside you as it stimulated your clit, and Harry has been dying to use one on you the second you showed it to him for extra credit. You heard the toy turn on as Harry played with the settings.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Harry sets the vibrations to the lowest setting as he starts to tease your clit with it; slowly circling around it as you moan out from the new sensation. “Does that feel good? Do you want more?”

“Please. Give me more,” you say as you palm him over his underwear, but he pushes you away. “Baby, you’re hard. Let me touch you, please,” you plead.

“This is all about you, so be a good girl and just enjoy this,” he says and you close your eyes, waiting for what’s to come. Harry sets the setting a bit higher. The setting is on a medium level, more stimulations to your clit as Harry moves the toy around. “Holy shit, that feels so good,” you throw your head back onto the bed.

“Yeah? Good thing I told you to keep it. You can use this when I’m not here to fuck you, unless I tell you not to touch yourself and have you wait until I stuff myself in your tight pussy.” The dirty talk is driving you wild along with the vibrator. “Gonna put it higher,” he says and doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“Oh my...fuck!” The setting is at its highest along with the part of the toy that is inside you; Harry moving the toy around a bit so it can thrust inside of you. You’re completely thrashing around on the sheets, and Harry has to physically spread your legs apart as you keep trying to close them.

Harry lays beside you, kissing your chest and taking your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Your hand naturally finds his hair and pulls on it as you bring his face to yours, and he gives you a solid kiss. You hold him against you as there were no movements of your lips with his; just the touch of your lips together as you try to control your moans.

As you two part, you scream out, “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“C’mon, let go for me, baby. Cum for me,” Harry encourages you.

After a few more thrusts and vibrations to your clit, your orgasm washes over you and hits you hard. Your back arched, and you turned, still feeling the stimulation from the toy.

“There ya go. That’s it,” Harry says as he slowly pulls the toy out and replacing it with his hand, gently cupping over you and feeling your wetness as you come down from your high. Your moans have been controlled, and you started whimpering from how powerful your peak was. “You’re okay. Shh. You’re okay, baby.”

You buried your face into Harry’s neck, and he scratches your back, calming you down. After a moment, you lift your head up and lazily smile at Harry, causing him to giggle a bit and kiss you. The kiss didn’t last long nor was it deepened; it was a sweet and loving kiss, and a thank you to him.

“Was that okay?” He asks.

“That was fucking amazing. Never came like that before,” you tell him honestly.

“Well, I’m glad,” he kisses your lips briefly as he couldn’t get enough of them.

“So…” you trail off.

“So…” he repeats.

“Do I get my extra credit?” You ask in a playful manner, and he laughs loud making your heart flutter over the beautiful sound of his laugh.

“Oh, baby. You get more than extra credit.”

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MASTERLIST

#harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #professor!harry #1d ff #harry styles #harry #hs #fine line #boyfriend!harry #college!harry

[nnightskiess]

‧₊° 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧!𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧, 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲...

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“I’m going back, you guys.” 

Her Slytherin friends raised their eyebrows.

“I’ve gotta study.” She quickly explained.

Pansy let out a snort and took a sip of her butterbeer. Of course Pansy would be able to see through her, but Y/N thanked her silently for not speaking up about it when their eyes met. If only Pansy knew the real truth behind her lie. 

“Have fun.” She sang out teasingly, guessing Y/N was off to sneak around with someone she had a crush on.

Y/N’s feet dragged through the snow as she walked to the secluded part of Hogsmeade, to the Hog’s Head Inn. She crossed her gloved fingers, hoping she was on time and that they would actually let her in and let her listen to what Harry Potter had to say. Y/N didn’t fit the stereotypical Slytherin mould, but no matter how hard she tried to prove that, she seemed to always be considered like a bad guy. Sure, her choice of friends obviously didn’t help her case, but still, didn’t she deserve to not be judged because of that?

Y/N hoped this wasn’t just some way to make Harry believable after all that The Daily Prophet had said about him, or to share his stories to make him even more famous. But if Hermione Granger was there, then it must be serious. She didn’t know the girl personally but knew far too well how much the bushy haired girl detested Umbridge and her teaching as well— or the lack of her teaching, for that matter. 

So when Y/N heard Zacharias Smith being persuaded by one of his friends to go to the meeting, she knew she needed to be there, too. If it was bullshit, she’d be out of there in a second. If it wasn’t, she hoped they accepted whatever kind of help she could offer. So, deciding to give them the benefit of the doubt, she marched up to the front door of the Hog’s Head.

Y/N silently cursed to herself when all eyes suddenly focused on her. How could she have been so dumb? Of course she should’ve walked in long before the rest, now they would obviously not say another word, too afraid she was one of Umbridge’s spies.

Harry pursed his lips, stopping himself from continuing. Ron looked mad and Hermione seemed confused... intrigued... impressed? All of the fore-mentioned? Y/N couldn’t quite tell. 

“Bugger off, you!” Ron gave her a nasty look.

Y/N had been expecting this, but maybe not from Ronald Weasley.

When Ron noticed she didn’t make a move to leave and instead took off her green scarf and mittens, he stood up, his ears red from anger.

“Come on then, leave!”

Y/N tried to stay calm, not liking his approach, and held up her hands, taking a measured step closer.

“I’m not here to spy on you, trust me.”

He stood up, his fists balled up in rage, “I find it hard to believe a girl like you would just stop here to get a drink, on her own no less.”

“A girl like me?”

“Yes! Where are your bloody friends?” Everyone raised their eyebrows at Ron’s newfound hostility. No one knew, not even Y/N, but the hatred towards the girl was partially because her father had humiliated Arthur Weasley plenty of times at work.

“Ronald!” Hermione shook her head and pulled at his arm, trying to stop him. 

“No one sent me. I’m here because of the meeting.” She looked around the pub, saw the man bandaged up in rags, the weird bartender who was cleaning the filthy glasses with an even filthier rag and then looked back at Ron, “I wouldn’t go here voluntarily.” She let out a breathy chuckle but realised everyone was still on edge. She clenched her jaw at the many disgusted looks sent her way.

“What meeting? We’re just chatting with each other.” Harry tried to play dumb but Y/N immediately rolled her eyes. How pathetic. 

“I overheard some of you talk about it. You should really be more discreet, you know?”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, cursing whoever had been so careless and also hating the feeling how he felt like she lectured him, as if he was some child. When no one said a word and when they kept looking at her in disgust, her anger rose.

“Do you think I would spy for the woman who ruined my mother’s career, who made me carve words into my hand for detention and who fails to teach us anything and ruins the school a bit more every week?” Her rambled confession caught everyone off guard. “I might be a Slytherin but no one knows me here so why is your first approach so hostile? You wouldn’t have treated me like this if I was sporting a yellow scarf instead of a green one. Would you, now?”

Hermione admired how she had so fiercely tried to prove her case and suddenly remembered that Y/N had bought one of her S.P.E.W. badges the year before. She had been one of the few who had and remembered being surprised then, too. It was weird, but Hermione believed the girl’s intentions were true.

“She’s right.” She spoke, “Besides, we need all the help we can get.” She gestured for the girl to sit down, who took a seat at the back, trying to ignore the many stares still sent her way. Meanwhile Hermione tried to ignore the glares sent her way.

A week later, while Y/N was sitting in the windowsill of the Hogwarts library, trying to study for Potions class, Hermione hesitantly approached her.

“Hi, there, um- excuse me,” The Gryffindor cleared her throat, making Y/N look up from her book. She leaned in closer after making sure they couldn’t be overheard, “The first meeting is this Thursday on the seventh floor. The door’s a hidden entrance opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Just think of the meeting and the door will appear.” Hermione rushed out in a whisper. 

Harry and Ron had both still been hesitant letting Y/N join, but after Hermione had scolded and lectured them about giving the girl a chance, they begrudgingly agreed. However, Hermione had to bring the news to Y/N. They still had their doubts about the Slytherin girl who was friends with the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy.

Y/N smiled softly, “Thank you.” 

After a week of radio-silence, she had come to terms with the fact that they hadn’t been too keen on letting her join after all, so this was a pleasant surprise. 

“I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself— besides the awkward introduction at the pub.” 

Hermione smiled meekly.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Hermione.”

The two shook hands quickly before Hermione excused herself, “I should probably go again. It might raise questions if we hang out together.” 

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. Because she was a Slytherin? Because she was supposed to be a mean girl who would never hang out with a mudblood like her? Though Hermione probably hadn’t meant it in a wrong way, it hurt Y/N more than she would like to admit.

“Do you need that?” Hermione pointed to the book discarded at Y/N’s feet. Y/N shook her head slowly. 

“Okay, then... let’s just pretend I came to borrow it from you. See you on Thursday.” 

With one last look over her shoulder, Hermione had disappeared again behind the many bookshelves.

Thursday night rolled around and Y/N was on her way to the seventh floor. It was a long walk from the dungeons, so she had left long before 9pm just to be on time. Two Ravenclaws who she had seen at the meeting, walked in front of but Y/N decided not to join them, they probably still hated her.

“Y/N!” 

Pansy’s loud voice echoed through the empty hallway, making the two Ravenclaws turn around. When they saw Y/N with Pansy, they immediately quickened their pace. She wasn’t sure if it was because they were scared of Pansy, or if they wanted to hurry and tell Harry Potter that Y/N was up to something, that they couldn’t trust her because she had been with Pansy Parkinson right before the first lesson. Contrary to popular belief, Y/N actually hadn’t told anyone and wasn’t planning on doing so either. 

“Sneaking off again?”

An arm wrapped around her shoulder and Pansy gave Y/N a playful nudge in the stomach. Y/N let out a laugh and pushed her off, 

“None of your business.”

Pansy gave her a look, the corners of her mouth lifted up into a smirk. “The dungeons are downstairs, you know? No need to slither your way through the seventh floor.”

“Look who’s talking!”

The raven-haired girl rolled her eyes, “I’m a prefect, remember? I’m allowed to roam the halls, even after curfew, and no one would be allowed to question a thing.” 

“I see you’ve been taking advantage of it.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

Y/N shrugged, “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You didn’t seem to complain when I gave you ten points for doing my homework.” 

The two laughed, “Fine, okay. It’s useful. Though I still think I deserved 15 points for that. You know how much I hate History of Magic.”

“Then you should’ve just said no.” Pansy let go of her arm and stopped walking, “I’m going back. Have fun.” She smirked again and left Y/N.

The Slytherin received a few confused looks when she stepped into the Room of Requirements. No one had believed Y/N had been serious or that the Golden Trio had actually dared to give her a shot. Some students seemed less hostile around her but Y/N knew they were still being careful. So it came as no surprise to her when everyone had to pair together, which led to her standing alone, along with Neville Longbottom. 

The boy’s eyes widened in fear when he realised who he had to pair up with. He was already nervous enough, he wasn’t great at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and having to try and disarm Y/N lessened his shot at success even more. 

Harry noticed the boy’s panic, quickly realising Neville needed a friendly face in front of him so he could relax and try and do his best. He waved Ron over and then left to watch the others, without another look at Y/N who still stood alone, playing with her wand to feel less awkward. No one seemed to notice, and if they did, they probably didn’t even care. 

Hermione let out an irritated sigh when she realised what had happened and told the girl she was practicing with to join the Parvati twins. She made her way over to the Slytherin, still unsure how to approach her, but did so nonetheless. 

“You can pair up with me... if you want to, that is..” She quickly added the last part, unsure if Y/N hated mudbloods as much as her friends did, they seemed to hate Hermione’s guts because of it.

Y/N let out a relieved smile, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hermione, and followed her so they could have more space.

They practiced in silence for a few minutes, both girls impressed by the qualities of the other, before Y/N opened her mouth to talk.

“I feel like a freak show.” She let out a breathy but awkward chuckle, making Hermione stop her movements. Y/N felt all their eyes on her, even if her back was turned their way. Hermione smiled sympathetically, seeing everyone glance at the Slytherin girl every few seconds.

“Just ignore them.” Hermione immediately realised how cliché and stupid it had sounded and tried to better herself, “I-I mean- It’s a compliment really... They... they must keep staring at you because you’re obviously incredibly talented and they feel challenged by that.”

Y/N smiled softly at the rambled reply, “I doubt it’s because of that, but it’s a nice thought. Thanks, Granger.” She knew the girl was only trying to make her feel better. And she had, she was the only one who had tried to accept her, after all. Even if it felt off or if the rest of her friends were against it.

“I don’t know what they all told you, but I promise that I mean well.” Y/N cleared her throat. “I know my house and my choice of friends alarms some of you, but we don’t always see eye to eye on most things... I don’t care that you’re a mudblood, for example.” Hermione looked up, taken back. “If anything, it makes you special. I would like to know more about muggles but my father doesn’t want me to meddle with that world. I just think the unknown scares him.” She continued when Hermione was still searching for a proper reply. She was intrigued by everything Y/N was telling her. “There are more like me, you know? But they’re just too scared to show their true beliefs or to speak up. Some have done it though, but they’re seen as the odd ones out. They are being bullied every time they enter the common room, mostly by Draco.”

Hermione rolled her eyes— of course. Y/N took notice of her reaction and immediately felt the need to protect her friend. “He’s not that bad. I mean, I know he bullies you but... in reality, I think all of us are just pressured to be or think a certain way by our parents and the moulds the other students put us in. It’s not easy being good when everyone treats you like you’re the bad guy.” Y/N’s voice died down.

“That’s still not a reason to bully someone.” Hermione’s voice was soft.

“I know.”

“I’m guessing you were too scared to speak up, then?” She guessed, since it came as a surprise to everyone that Y/N had good intentions and was one of them.

Hermione’s harsh voice hurt Y/N more than she wanted to.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“But would you ever tell Pansy or Draco that?”

Y/N shook her head immediately, “No, of course not. I swore to never tell anyone about Dumbledore’s Army, everyone has sworn secrecy, right? Besides, they think I’m not serious when I say I don’t care about someone not being pureblood. They wave it away like I just made a sarcastic joke.”

Hermione looked down swiftly, realising she had lashed out for the wrong reasons.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N waved it off with her hand, “It’s fine. I’m sure more people will attack me for it in the future. That’s if they dare to talk to me first... do I have a tail or something?” Y/N playfully looked behind her and wiped her bum, “Horns?” She combed through her hair. “They keep on looking!”

Hermione shook her head in amusement. “You look more than fine, there’s nothing wrong with your bum.” Her eyes widened immediately, her cheeks turned scarlet, “Or your hair!” She quickly added.

Y/N laughed heartedly, signalling for Hermione to stand tall again so they could continue practicing.

*.·:·.☽✧  

Y/N fumbled with the fake Galleon in her hand, waiting for the new date to appear. She was starting to enjoy the meetings of Dumbledore’s Army. Through the weeks, everyone had paired up with her at least once and they quickly realised she was no threat. She was finally at a point where they didn’t walk away from her. Instead, they now laughed at her jokes and smiled proudly when Y/N encouraged them. They still had to appear like strangers outside of the Room of Requirements. Y/N hated it. She had made new friends and wanted nothing more but to sit with them during lunch, or help them study. Hermione had done her best to make Y/N feel at home within the group, and Y/N couldn’t lie to herself— she had started to fancy the Gryffindor. Sure, she had found her very pretty before, when all she could do was sneak short glances at the girl during class, but she would have loved to sit in the library together, go to Hogsmeade and really get to know her. But that would raise too much questions, and she wasn’t sure if she could explain this one to Pansy, Draco or Blaise.

“That’s all, you guys. Have a nice Christmas break!” 

Everyone left the Room of Requirements in little groups, as Harry inspected the Marauder’s map, waiting for them to arrive in their common rooms before checking if the coast was clear for another group to leave. Y/N could’ve joined the Hufflepuffs to the dungeons but Harry had advised against it. Seeing Y/N with them would for sure raise questions with the other students who didn’t know of the existence of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. He would never admit it out loud, but he too had warmed up to the Slytherin girl. She was skilled and could help out the others when he needed a hand. 

Hermione felt Y/N appear next to her, looked up and gave her a soft smile. They were waiting for the Hufflepuffs to arrive so that Y/N could go. 

“Um-” Y/N started, “Did you know Umbridge told her High Inquisitors to try and find out our plans?” 

This got Hermione’s attention. 

“I mean, I only assumed... That’s why she named them in the first place, right?” 

“Yeah, Draco, Pansy and the others talk about it all the time. How they want to catch you guys— especially Potter.” 

“Oh...” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, realising that this might become a problem later on. Their luck would run out soon. “I’m sorry, it must be hard to sit there and lie to your friends.”

Y/N shrugged, “I knew what I signed up for when I joined.” She twirled her wand through her fingers, one of her habits, and hoped what she was going to say next wouldn’t be a wrong move, 

“I could tell you what their plans are? Inform you when they are up to something, maybe mislead them... and that kind of stuff...”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, shocked that Y/N had the guts to go that far, to betray the friends she’d had since first year. 

“I mean, that would be very useful but... Are you sure? If they ever find out-”

“I have to be careful around Pansy, she reads me like an open book, but I think I could get it out of Draco when he’s gloating about it again.”

“But when word gets out, you’ll be the only Slytherin, you’re the only one out of all of us who hangs out with them. They’ll know it was you.” 

“If we do nothing, we risk getting caught. Besides, it would finally rid all of the doubts the others might still have about me. You know they’ll point at me the moment Draco or the rest finds out about this. They’ll think I finally caved and told Umbridge.”

“It’s not worth it. You don’t have to prove anything, not to me at least. I know you’re not like that now.” Hermione started to feel bad. “Your friendships and relationships with everyone in your house, or with your parents, should not be put on the line for that.” Hermione had a feeling that Y/N’s father would most likely skin her alive if he ever found out.

“I insist.”

Hermione saw the persistent look in her eyes, knowing she was not going to let someone change her mind, not even Hermione. Y/N was after all a Slytherin, and if she wanted to go for something, she gave it her all until she reached her goal.

Harry called her name and waved with the Marauder’s map— it was her time to go.

“Alright, just... be careful about it. Please?”

One curt nod sent Hermione’s way and she left the Room of Requirements, leaving Hermione with a bad feeling in her gut.

*.·:·.☽✧ 

“You’ve got me really curious.” Pansy opened the drapes around her bed in a flash, startling Y/N. “You’ve been hooking up with this person for weeks now and you won’t even give me a single hint.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought you liked riddles, go figure it out then.”

Pansy groaned in annoyance, falling back onto her bed as she stared at the ceiling.

“Can’t, got no time. Umbridge has us patrolling the seventh floor the whole night.”

Y/N froze immediately. Another meeting was about to start in an hour, they couldn’t be seen.

“Why?”

Pansy propped herself up on her elbows and looked at her friend, “To get Potter and his goons, of course?! Apparently this girl, Marietta Edgecombe, told Umbridge all about it.”

Y/N tried to mask her surprise and anger and realised she needed to do something quick to try and steer Pansy to a dead end.

“Are you sure it’s the seventh floor? I thought I heard gossips about it being near the Owlery, in one of the abandoned classrooms. No one goes there because Peeves roams the hallways.”

Pansy tilted her head, realising Y/N’s reply had been way too detailed. 

“Don’t tell me you have another romantic meeting in one of the broom closets tonight on the seventh floor.” Pansy examined the expression of her friend but continued talking, “Don’t worry, we’ll be looking for a hidden room. I reckon we won’t be checking any broom closets tonight.” She gave her a wink, but saw that Y/N still seemed on edge. 

“I need to go.”

“Go where?!” 

But Y/N had already left their dorm room and rushed out of the Slytherin common room, trying to reach Hermione. 

“Can you please get Hermione Granger? Or Harry Potter, or Dean or Parvati- really, anyone is fine!” Y/N needed to tell them or it was too late. But the Fat Lady pursed her lips and Y/N saw her eyes take a quick glance at her green Slytherin tie. She let out a huff and faced the other side.

“Please! It’s urgent!”

The Fat Lady started to sing to try and ignore her, but Y/N wasn’t going to give up so easily and started banging on the wall, hoping it would somehow be heard in the common room.

After half a minute of banging, the Fat Lady turned to her, annoyed. She was about to complain when a third-year Gryffindor student walked out. He looked taken back when he saw the girl stand there and was unsure of how to react. 

“Is Hermione Granger in there? Or any of her friends?”

He looked her up and down, trying to see if this was another attempt at pranking one of the Gryffindor students. However, he soon saw the honest desperation in her eyes and shook his head hesitantly.

“No, I saw them all leave a while ago. You just missed-”

Y/N bolted up the stairs, she needed to stop them. Part of her was hoping Umbridge wouldn’t be able to find the hidden room, but she knew better. The toad would just wait long enough until they all left eventually. Hell, if it were up to her, she would probably sit there for days if needed, just to get the satisfactory that she had caught them.

But when she rounded the corner to the hallway, she saw Harry and his friends being dragged away by Umbridge and her Inquisitors, Hermione included. Y/N saw Draco and Pansy and immediately ducked back around the corner, but the sudden movement had caught Hermione’s eye. When Y/N peeked her head around the corner to see where they were taking them, her eyes met those of Hermione. She shook her head in disappointment, which to Y/N, was much worse than if she had been raging with anger. Y/N realised what Hermione was thinking right now and wanted nothing but to round the corner and tell them she had been trying to warn them, not rat them out. Though she had always told them she was not like the rest, something in Y/N stopped her from stepping out into the hallway. The realisation of losing her friends and disappointing her parents suddenly weighed heavily on her.

The doubts Hermione had had in the beginning, the ones she had just as easily neglected after getting to know the real Y/N, suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. This had been the bad feeling in her gut. Y/N had betrayed them after all, and Hermione had fallen right into her web of lies. What hurt even more than the tight hold Pansy Parkinson had on her shoulder and arm, was the realisation that she slowly started to develop feelings for the same girl who had now betrayed her.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

#hermione granger #hermione granger imagine #hermione granger imagines #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger one shot #hermione imagine #hermione x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shots #hermione blurb #hp imagine #hp imagines #harry potter imagine

[cherryyharryy]

i have an idea for a request (it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do it) like an angst-> fluff where one of harry’s songs accidentally gets leaked bc of y/n like she has something on a flash drive and the song is on another and they get mixed up and obviously he’s really mad at y/n and they have a fight he’s super snappy with her but something happens to her like she gets into a really big accidental or something and he forgives her bc he cares about her more tha the leaked song

WC: 2.7k

***

Damage control wasn’t even an option. 

Y/n sat there, staring at Harry’s laptop, numb to everything except the blaring desire to go back in time just two minutes. Two minutes is all she would need to undo possibly the biggest screwup of her life.

And the worst part is that this mistake ultimately doesn’t affect her. At least not in comparison to how it will affect Harry. And his band. And his team. Basically everyone involved with his career. 

Her mind is equally begging for her to shut down and come up with a plan—an excuse—something, Is there anyway this wasn’t my fault?  

She checks the time, her heart sinking to her stomach when she realizes Harry and his team will be back any minute. Any minute and she’s done for.

They’ve only been together for five months, officially. She’s still new to most everyone. She’s that girl Harry’s dating.

“I told you he played in that movie.” Jeff’s voice echoes outside the studio. Y/n closes the laptop and prays for strength. 

“I have him confused with someone else.” Harry bustles through the door, a small crowd of people filing in behind him, back to the spots they left an hour ago. “Hey darling,” he greets, “finish your paper?”

Y/n’s frozen, morbidly wishing he had found out about his song leaking on his own so she wouldn’t have to tell him. “Uh, almost.”

He kisses the top of her head and hands her a cup of frozen yogurt. “Your favorite.” 

“Thanks.” She sets it on the table she’s sat at while Harry pulls up a chair beside her. “Aren’t you guys still working?”

He waves in the direction of his band, “Mitch’s gotta fix his guitar.” He snickers, and slides his laptop out from under y/n’s hands. “Had a bit of an accident in the car.” 

Y/n’s head tingles with what must be nerve damage, her place in this world, her place in this room, decreasing in value as Harry opens his computer.

“It’s gonna melt.” He nods to her yogurt.

“I’m not hungry.”

He furrows his brow. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She looks around the room, everyone busy getting back to work, light chatter passing among them. “Uh, actually, I uh, I have to tell you something.” Y/n tries to swallow the lump in her throat with no luck.

“Okay…” He shuts the laptop and gives her his full attention.

“Okay, um—”

“What the fuck!?” The room freezes as everyone turns toward Jeff. “Harry someone’s got a hold of your song!” 

Harry scrambles to his manager, complete shock on his face as they both stare down at Jeff’s phone. “Fuck.” They start to play a video, the sound of a girl screaming, with Harry’s unconsented voice playing in the background, fills the room. “How the hell did this happen?” He’s gritting through his teeth, neck red, veins bulging in his hands as he rips the phone out of Jeff’s hand. “HOW? Someone answer me!”

Y/N considers keeping quiet. Playing innocent. What good will it do to confess anyway? It’s not like it’ll undo what she’s done.

Sarah chimes in from across the room, “It looks like it happened half an hour ago. That’s when this video I’m looking at was posted.”

Y/n’s staring down at her lap, holding her head up with her fingers pressed into her temples when Harry slings himself back into the chair next to her.

“All that work, all that fucking work,” he nearly growls, “for some cunt to spread my unfinished song around for a buck.”

Y/n peers up to the room, a completely different picture compared to five minutes ago. Now there’s talk of lawyers and pressing charges while everyone shuffles around. Jeff slams the door as he steps out with his phone to his ear, and y/n knows she can’t claim denial, it’ll only make things worse.

“Uh, Harry?”

“What is it?” He doesn’t look at her, eyes glaring at his phone while another video plays of a group of people reacting to his song. “Glad they fucking like it.”

“Harry?”

“What, y/n?”

She shrinks under his gaze, mouth dry as she forces her confession out. “I uh, this is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll do anything—I know I can’t fix it—but...”

Harry’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing in on her as a morbid silence forms a little bubble around them. “Go on,” he whispers with grit, “finish what you were gonna say.”

She stutters, desperately trying to figure him out. “I’m just sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How did you even manage to do this?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea what this accident means, y/n?”

She reluctantly shakes her head no.

“How the fuck did you do this?”

“I—I don’t know...I was taking a break from my paper, and, I don’t know Harry.” She’s in tears now, warm and salty as they spill down her cheeks. Her mouth wobbles around another apology, but no sounds make it out.

“Fix it.”

“What?”

He stands up, yanking his laptop off the table, pausing to glare at her one last time. “I said, to fix it.” With that he storms across the room, slinging the door open just as Jeff reenters.

“Harry, your attorney—”

“Forget it.” He turns around and points his phone towards y/n silently sobbing in the corner. “She’s gonna handle it.” He takes one step out into the hall and stops, spinning on his heels to face the studio. “Don’t speak to me until you do.”

Mitch’s guitar that was fixed and propped against the wall, crashes to the floor when Harry slams the door. 

Chatter passes around the room one more time, only now everyone seems to be in agreeance—that girl never should have been allowed in the studio, and maybe, Harry should break up with her.

***

Early morning rain fell outside Harry’s apartment. It was still dark, street lamps burning through the fog in the city below. His home fills with coffee as he pours his fifth cup; the prior four never offering more than a few sips before he had abandoned them somewhere, the counter, mantle, bookshelf, because he can’t talk without his hands.

Y/n sits on his couch. It’s velvet and pink and too big for one person. She hated it the first time he invited her over. If he breaks up with her, she’s going to tell him how ugly it is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” She’s exhausted. She hadn’t hesitated to drive over when he finally responded to one of her hundreds of texts in the week since the mishap. But now she regrets it. They’ve been going in circles with the same argument for the past four hours. She’s convinced he invited her over just to be mean. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I said I was sorry. You know that I’m sorry. And you know that I never, ever in a million years, would have done something like this on purpose.”

“I’m allowed to be angry with you. I have every right to be.”

“Do you, though?” She straightens up on his ugly couch and looks at him leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen. “Aren’t you a little tired of hating me? God Harry, everyone else in the whole world has moved on except you.”

“It’s not everyone else’s song, is it? It’s not everyone else’s months and months of hard work. It’s not everyone else’s unfinished art? Nobody else is having to deal with a girlfriend that is so careless, so thoughtless, that she actually managed to leak my song!”

“Stop raising your voice at me!”

“You had no business snooping around my computer anyway! I told you you could work on your fucking paper, not to go prying around my personal shit!”

“You know what,” she scoffs, shooting up off the couch, “this argument is so pointless. You didn’t want me here so we could talk. You just wanted to torture me because you’re mad that people don’t love your stupid song.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

She brushes his shoulder as she passes by him, and a drip of his coffee spills onto his hand. He curses, and follows her into the kitchen where he lays his final cup down on the island.

“You’re being a baby because people aren’t fawning over you like they usually do.” She shrugs and slings her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not your best song, Harry.”

The veins in his neck strain against his flaming skin. His cheeks are sucked in, and if he bites down on the skin any harder he’ll puncture his face. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was already leaving, dumb ass.” She strides by him once more, practically feeling the heat steaming off his body. When she gets to the front door, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Your couch is hideous, by the way. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy shitty looking stuff.”

When she slams the door behind her, the apartment shakes, and cold coffee spills from each cup.

***

It’s nearing five a.m. when y/n backs out of the complex. Her wipers race across the windshield, but do nothing against the downpour wreaking havoc in the city. She does her best to stay on what she assumes is her side of the road, swerving to the right each time headlights blind her.

“Shit.” Nothing is open, and she can’t even see where it would be safe to pull over to let the rain pass. But her home isn’t that far, and traffic isn’t too bad. 

She comes to a stop at a red light, only to realize she missed a left turn she should’ve made a minute ago. “Damn it. Fucking hell.”

As soon as the light turns green, she spins the wheel to make a U-turn, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, and her own clouded mind, and Harry’s voice echoing in her ears, she might have seen the truck who didn’t even try to avoid her.

***

It’s the headache from hell that wakes her up. And it’s the sterile smell of hospital that jogs her memory. And it’s a nurse not much older than y/n that says something about you’re lucky to be alive. 

She’s poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions before her IV is adjusted and a pill to ease one of the many pains scratching her body is handed to her in a small plastic cup. A police officer repeats half of this process, and somewhere in the mess of her reality, she learns that the other driver was sending a text to his wife when he plowed into her car. He’s at home and she’s here. Lucky to be alive.

She made calls to her mom and friends, and even managed to type out a decent email to her professors for her upcoming absence in class.

When she automatically pulled up Harry’s name on her phone, the last text he sent, the one inviting her over so he could make her more miserable than she already was, sat there in all its taunting glory.

What is she even supposed to say? Hey, I know you hate my existence right now, but I’m lying here in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. It’d be cool if you stopped by.

It’s not long before the sun pops up and reminds y/n of just how early it is. The clouds part, and it’s like it had never even rained, like it had never even been dark for hours, and if she closes her eyes, y/n can pretend that the past week hadn’t even happened.

***

 “How are you feeling today?” The nurse checks y/n’s IV, humming after her question.

“Just sore. Ready to get out of here.”

“We’ve started the paperwork, so shouldn’t be too long. Who’s coming to get you?”

Y/n blinks, feeling stupid she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. The nurse looks over the computer monitor, waiting for a response.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Awesome. Dr. Kirby has to come check on you one last time before you leave. I’ll go see if he can stop by now, if you want to let your friend know.”

As soon as the nurse is out the door, y/n scrambles to turn her phone back on, and once it is, her lock screen is filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.

She’ll respond later; gives her something to do in the car to occupy her in front of Harry. 

She can’t call him. Harry’s not a monster, although the past week doesn’t exactly prove her case, but she knows he wouldn’t refuse to come get her. If anything, he’ll be annoyed she didn’t tell him about the accident sooner. But she’s too emotional to deal with hearing his voice.

She types out a text recounting her last 24 hours, along with the name of the hospital. He immediately reads it, and a moment later he’s trying to call.

To: Harry

I’m too tired to talk rn

She lies. And it works.

From: Harry

I’ll be there as fast as i can

***

“Baby?”

Y/n cracks her eyes open, irritated she never quite fell asleep. Confused as to why Harry’s calling her baby. Angry that she cares. And the next words out of his mouth are ones she’d been predicting.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve dropped everything. You’ve been here all alone, shit. Are you okay? What hurts?”

He’s hovering over her, fidgeting, unsure if he can touch her.

“I’m fine now. Just sore. And tired.”

“Fuck I can’t believe this, I—”

“The doctor already said I can go. I’m not allowed to walk out on my own, so, you need to let the nurse know you’re here. She’ll take me down in a wheelchair.”

“Baby I’m so sorry-”

“No, Harry. You would still be busy hating my guts right now—”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you?”

“Well you did a great job this week making me feel otherwise.”

Harry sighs, gripping the bed frame and dropping his chin to his chest. When he looks back up he has tears brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. “I know I’ve been an ass this week. I—you were right. I took out my anger from no one lovin’ the song on you.”

“Well it’s not no one. A lot of people did. And it’s unfinished anyway. You wouldn’t enjoy a meal if it was only cooked halfway.”

He nods, but y/n knows he’s only accepting her words because of the situation.

“You mean so much more to me than a leaked song. I’m sorry I treated you like shit. And that I—I made you think I hated you. You have every right to hate me.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

His lips twitch, but a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She takes his hand off the rail and smoothes her thumb across his knuckles. “You can make it up to me by getting me out of here.”

“I can do that.” He kisses the top of her head and hits the remote to call for the nurse.

“You can really kiss me, y’know. I’m not gonna break.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly lowers his head to press his lips to hers. He’s timid, and his lips are still damp from tears, but it’s more relieving than either of them would ever admit.

The nurse ends their moment when she pops in the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Hi, you must be y/n’s friend.”

“Friend?” He peers down at y/n, suggestion lacing the word. “Care to explain?”

“Not really, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.” He clicks his tongue, supporting her arm as she swings her legs off the bed. Once she’s standing and steady, he tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down so his mouth can graze her lobe. “Since we’re just friends, I guess you’ll have to sleep on my ugly couch.”

#requests #requested #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #cherryyharryy

[permanentcrossfics]

Blurred Lines: A Different Christmas // h.s.

How do we write Christmas fics in a really weird year? I’m still not sure, but I tried to string together a bit of relief for the end of December. I’m shutting myself up now, even though there’s lots I want to say. This is for anyone who wants it, anyone who needs it, anyone who enjoys it (or hates it!) silently and vocally alike. My Christmas gift is the happy and unexpected bonus of anyone reading what I have so much selfish fun thinking of and spinning out. Happy and Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and a happy and merry end of December if you don’t and are just doing you! x

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It was the big Christmas tree you’d dragged back home by yourself on top of a rickety shopping cart all the way from a place on Second Avenue that had been your breaking point. Picking it had its own bittersweet undertones, but the smell of fresh pine tickling your nose even through a mask had kept you afloat as you struggled to get it off and onto curbs before traffic pancaked you in the middle of the road. It wasn’t until you were back inside, still wrapped in your coat and struggling to get it upright in the stand the correct way that you burst into a torrent of hot, selfish tears and bowed your head, kneeling next to the mass of needles and branches. He should be here! He should be helping you. He should’ve helped anchor lights in windows, he should’ve had an opinion on the scented candles, he should’ve made you go back for decorations you just weren’t sure of because you wanted them regardless of what he thought, and he should’ve helped pick, and carry, and set up the tree. The whole reason you’d gone out to get a fresh tree – something real in a year that had felt anything but – was to lift your spirits, but instead you were sobbing next to it and it all felt a little dramatically pointless. It was everything you’d avoided last year by flying off to England but that you couldn’t escape this time. What was the point? What was the point of pretending?

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“You coming home with me this year?” 

Again. He asked the same question you’ve been dodging for weeks since plans had started to look uncertain again, not because he was pestering you, but because somehow, some way, you were both hoping for an answer with a loophole. 

“I can’t,” you said softly, regretfully, holding your phone close to your face with one arm as you curled up under the duvet of a bed in an apartment that had somehow become yours together instead of his alone throughout the course of a very new, very different, very unsettling year. “For a few reasons.” 

And he knew that. 

Harry’s deep breath crackled and he dragged his hand down his face, holding it there as he shook his head, the thought processes you’d learned to read so well hidden from view. 

You’d liked going home with him last year -- loved it, even. You’d hardly had time to look forward to a repeat when the world had flipped in the first quarter or sooner, and the sand had just kept slipping through the hourglass until all time for hope of a new and normal Christmas was gone and sucked away into the void of the year. 

So many plans. So many memories that lived only as memories of daydreams now. So much else, so much more important, devastating, and tragic you couldn’t even put it into words and, frankly, didn’t want to. Not now -- you spent too much time thinking about it to think about it now, too.

“Filming’s done soon,” he said from behind his hand. “I can book my flight to New York--”

“Harry--”

“And then go to Manchester after Christmas -- after the New Year, we always take a bit of a longer break. Mum won’t mind--”

“Your mother’s barely seen you since last Christmas,” you said. “Your sister, too, and there’s not enough time to--”

“Course there is!”

“Two weeks quarantine in each?” you asked. “That’s a month of staying put, let alone--”

A split second glance at his face was all you saw before the screen went black and you bit your tongue. He hadn’t hung up, because you’d heard the soft thud when his phone collided with his chest, and you could hear him breathing now, so you waited, suppressing your own urge to snap as he had his. Despite having spent the better part of the year together, it was frustrating to think about not being together for the season. All you wanted was him, though you knew better than to voice it out loud. He’d do it -- for you, he’d do it if you asked him to -- and you’d have to live with the guilt of taking him away from his family at the time of year where family should be together most, if it mattered to them. And you’d been weirdly lucky enough to have him most of the year between carefully navigated business trips. He was only one man with one body. It didn’t -- couldn’t -- matter that you wanted him, too. 

That you wanted to be with the man you loved. 

When he picked up the phone again, his face was drawn, tired, and not just from filming, you suspected. 

“Go home,” you urged, swallowing the break in your voice. “You miss home, and home misses you. I’ll have fun decorating and send you all the pictures you won’t be able to do anything about.” 

His throat bobbed hard, audibly, and his eyes looked dangerously shiny. 

“Next year I’ll go home with you,” you said, burrowing half your face into your pillow. “London and Holmes Chapel both.”

“Next year,” he said eventually, voice raspy. “We’ll have Christmas at home next year.” 

You nodded, forcing the lump rising up, up, and up back down. “You should go to sleep,” you said. “It’s late and you have to be up early.”

“Later for you,” he said and you sighed, noting the 3:08 timestamp at the top of your screen. 

“Let’s go,” you said. “Call me when you can.” 

“I will.” Sad, but resigned. You wanted to reach through the screen and touch the downturned corners of his mouth to push them back upright again. “Sleep well, and I love you.” 

Taking a deep breath, you murmured, “I love you, too,” before hanging up the call and the room descended into darkness and you into a fitful sleep. 

***

At first, you were determined to make the most of it. Your studio had always been small, cozy, and Christmasy to the best of your abilities, but his -- your -- apartment had so many more possibilities. Candles were the first to be set out, with strategic clusters of red, green, and gold-colored wax placed all about and nestled in fake holly wreaths. String lights that cast a pretty glow lined windows even in the bedroom for some last minute holiday cheer, and despite the urge to drive him up a wall, you did your best to only pick out other decorations that you’d both like and want to use in the future. Because as much as you might avoid talking about it in many certain terms the longer the relationship went on (it still felt so funny to think that a one night stand had turned into a relationship), there was a future. He was your future. It wasn’t your first Christmas together, but it might be your last one apart. 

It was the big Christmas tree you’d dragged back home by yourself on top of a rickety shopping cart all the way from a place on Second Avenue that had been your breaking point. Picking it had its own bittersweet undertones, but the smell of fresh pine tickling your nose even through a mask had kept you afloat as you struggled to get it off and onto curbs before traffic pancaked you in the middle of the road. It wasn’t until you were back inside, still wrapped in your coat and struggling to get it upright in the stand the correct way that you burst into a torrent of hot, selfish tears and bowed your head, kneeling next to the mass of needles and branches. 

He should be here! He should be helping you. He should’ve helped anchor lights in windows, he should’ve had an opinion on the scented candles, he should’ve made you go back for decorations you just weren’t sure of because you wanted them regardless of what he thought, and he should’ve helped pick, and carry, and set up the tree. The whole reason you’d gone out to get a fresh tree -- something real in a year that had felt anything but -- was to lift your spirits, but instead you were sobbing next to it and it all felt a little dramatically pointless. It was everything you’d avoided last year by flying off to England but that you couldn’t escape this time. What was the point? What was the point of pretending? 

Wiping your nose, you stood, eyes heavy, swollen, and itchy. With your coat gone, you heaved the tree up until it was sitting securely in its stand, needles scattered in its wake but branches full and outstretched, enveloping you in the warm smell of Christmas in a way the cedar- and balsam-scented candles couldn’t. Stepping back with your hands on your hips, you looked up at it, the swell of your anxiety simmering, thanks partly to your crying fit and partly to succeeding at the task. You’d decorate it bit by bit to draw the season out, and then on Christmas Eve, you’d call him and you’d both sit by your own trees and talk until it was Christmas Day for him. It was just for now -- this wasn’t the way of all ways for all time. 

Click.

You nearly passed out cold from the rush of fearful adrenaline shooting through you when the lock on the door clicked. In three seconds, you ran through whether or not you’d locked the door, determined that you had but then had forgotten, and figured out that somehow, someone had gotten in and they weren’t supposed to. You spun, frozen, brain zooming to determine if you dove behind a sofa or if you charged, but you didn’t get the chance before the door opened. 

A duffle bag, a foot, a body, in that order, and then a pair of wide, green eyes rimmed with circles just above a cloth mask.

“You do not get to be mad at me,” he said, voice muffled. He grunted and pushed the door open wider to bring in the rest of his luggage as you stood there, as equally speechless as you were breathless. “I tested before I came here,” he said, speaking with a loud if exhausted sort of authority, like he was trying to get the words out before you could protest. “But I’ll take the guest room, and I’ll get my own food, and we’ll keep out of each other’s space until the two weeks are up.” 

He brought his bags in the rest of the way, and it was only when he was halfway by you that he stopped in his tracks. “Y’haven’t moved,” he said, eyebrows furrowing as he narrowed his eyes on you. “Are you all right?” 

Lightheaded, you nodded. 

“O… kay,” he said, stilted, still eyeing you. “M’just gonna go get settled and showered, then.” 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, the words finally forcing themselves from you. 

“S’Christmas.”

“You’re supposed to--”

“Mum knows,” he interrupted. “M’taking Christmas here this year. Gem’ll have Christmas with her and I’ll go along after. She’s excited about having two. ‘Scuse me….” 

Nodding, you waved him away to hurry, shoo, because you could feel the emotions rising in you again and your confusion wasn’t enough to quell them. Fifteen minutes ago, you’d been kneeling on the floor with aching knees, crying, and now here he was. 

You’d wrestle with the confliction of doing what was right and doing what you wanted… later. Later, when you could wrap your head around it and the choice he’d made. 

Two weeks. That would put you just on Christmas Day, basically. Just two weeks.

***

Dodging him around the apartment was a lot more difficult than you would’ve guessed for how big it was. More than once you nearly slammed into him in the kitchen, and someone was always in the favored bathroom. For his part, he’d taken to wearing a mask when he roamed, and even though you told him he didn’t have to do that, all he did was hum behind it. You got it -- the positive result from the crewperson on set had spooked everyone, and he was being safe. You both were being safe, but for as mindful as you’d been throughout, all you wanted to do was hold him, hug him, kiss him. Video calls were ridiculous when you were in the same house and you could hear his laugh through the walls. But you got it, and if you kicked too much he’d book a hotel to quarantine away from you, so you’d rather have him here, as selfish and risky as it was. 

It was three days into your little bubble that he finally dared to get within arm’s reach of you. You were mulling over where to put the chimney sweep ornament when he shuffled over to the foot of the ladder you were leaning on, and you raised an eyebrow, arm outstretched.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

He shook his head, the lights from the tree reflected in his eyes. “Just watching,” he said from behind his mask. 

“You’re standing a little close, aren’t you?” you teased. Jokes were all you had -- all anyone had this year, if they were lucky. 

Immediately, he scowled -- how funny you could tell what his face looked like so clearly even with the cloth stretched firmly across it -- and you giggled. “Watch what you’re doing,” he said, taking his hands from his sweatshirt pocket to grab the ladder legs, and with his support, you held on tightly and leaned over to place it on the prime branch. 

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you want to pass me that box?” 

He did so and you murmured your thanks, resting it on the top step as you pulled ornaments out to hang them. 

“Not there,” he said before you could drop a hook over a branch with a snowflake. “Give it… thank you.” He took it carefully from you and placed it on a different one closer to him, lower than where you were placing it but slightly higher than you could reach without a ladder. 

“Thank you.” 

Together, slowly, ornaments were hooked and rehooked (and rehooked yet again when one of you noticed the other had moved them from a spot you each thought was perfect) until the tree was trimmed, each branch heavily laden, bearing the weight of ornaments and of providing joy after the year behind. 

“How’d you get this home?” he asked, looking up at it with you once you were off the ladder. 

“Carefully,” you said dryly. “Oh! The top.” You turned, but he cut across your path.

“I’ve got it,” he said, grabbing the box from the precarious stack next to the coffee table. 

“I want to,” you whined and he snorted.

“You’ve done the whole bloody thing,” he said without venom. “Let me do just the one.” With it in hand, he climbed the ladder as you held it steady, and he set it on the topmost branch, prodding it until it was tall and straight up, all five points outstretched and shining. 

“That’s perfect,” you said under your breath, resting your head on his leg, and he patted the top of your head gently. You stayed like that for a minute, two, three, and more, with your arm curling around his calf, embracing as much physical contact as he’d allowed since he came home. “How many more days?”

“Eleven.” He sounded thoughtful, resentful, and exhausted all in one go. You squeezed his leg and kissed his knee through his joggers. 

“Then it’s Christmas,” you said.

He exhaled slowly, still patting your head. “Christmas morning.” 

***

Eleven. Whole. Days. 

Eleven days of more of the same. He’d eased up, thankfully, and dared to venture a little closer with a mask on, because, as you’d reminded him, he had tested negative. You sat on opposite ends of the couch, enjoying the Christmas tree and decorations together, laughing, talking, planning, and exchanging stories about everything that had happened while you were apart. His, of course, were wildly more interesting, but he somehow managed to hang onto every word of even your most droll and mundane ones, and always with the right questions and supportive murmurs of agreement as necessary. 

Eleven days of saying goodnight and crawling into a bed that was too big for one when two was next door. 

Eleven days of not being able to share meals properly or touch each other -- sex aside -- and eleven days of Hell.

“It’s your fault,” you said one night from your end of the couch, scowling with your arms crossed. The tree twinkled happily despite your sour mood, and music that was too merry and bright played from the television. 

“Me?” he asked indignantly. 

“Yes! You had to do that stupid film.” 

“It’s not stupid.”

“You’re wearing a mask in our home,” you said, burrowing into the cushions. “If I want to call it stupid, I will.” 

He groaned, dropping his head forward. “Baby….”

You grunted. 

“It’s only a couple more days. A couple more days, and then it’s Christmas. Think of it like a present you’re waiting for.”

Despite yourself, you snorted. 

“I’m all you want for Christmas, aren’t--?”

“Shut up,” you said, kicking his thigh with your extended leg. He snickered, eyes crinkled and full of light all their own. 

“Couple more days,” he said, patting your ankle. “Couple more days, and then you won’t even be able to get rid of me. We’ll be in bed all weekend.”

“I’m not calling your mother from bed.”

He waggled his brows with some exaggeration and you rolled your eyes. 

That had been around day five, maybe six. Suffice it to say, by Christmas Eve, you were done. 

“It’s one day!” you said over breakfast in the kitchen. “One day, Harry!” 

“We made it this long,” he said, pouring hot coffee into a mug that had his face printed onto the head of dancing elf -- a gift from his mother shipped along with a matching one for you that she insisted you both open ahead of time to enjoy for as long as possible. “We can make it a couple more hours.”

“If I stripped naked, what would you do? Stand there and watch me?” 

He froze and looked at you over his mask, the heated warning pinning you in place. Huffing, you pushed the stool away from the counter and hopped off it.

“Where are you--?”

“Out,” you said. “I’m going to get--” You floundered. “Coffee.” 

A beat passed and his eyes dropped to the mug in his hand.

“We literally have--”

“I’m going out!” you said, wrapping your neck and half your face up in a scarf to keep warm. You were going out, because you were mad, and the tantrum was burgeoning. That poor man had seen more unreasonable tantrums from you this year than he had in the entire two and a half you’d reciprocally acknowledged each other’s presence, and you hated it. But he’d hate it, too, if you’d gone on a trip for work and come back and things were off.

Could be worse, you reminded yourself. It could be so very, very much worse.

“I love you,” you said, calmly, firmly. “I’ll be back. I’m only going around the block. Take that--” You waved at his mask, “--off. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way in..” 

When you returned, he was in the guest room, but a fresh cup of coffee in your own dancing elf mug rested on a mug warming plate. The last of your frustrations that hadn’t melted with the walk deflated and you picked it up, enjoying the aroma before taking a deep sip. 

He always made it better. And the coffee was nice, too. 

His mother called in the afternoon and you hardly noticed he was at your side until the phone was in front of your face and you gave a startled hello. 

“Has he been wearing that the whole time he’s been home with you?” she asked, her gleaming eyes and wide, genuine smile matching her son’s own warmth. 

Home. With you. 

“He has,” you said. 

“S’posed to be proud of me,” Harry said and Anne laughed.

“Of course, sweetheart. We’re still calling tomorrow?” she asked you. 

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll be here.”

“Next year will be different, won’t it?” she all but clucked. “Did you like your mugs? I got one for me, Gemma, and Michal, too.” 

“Used them just this morning,” he said, squeezing your hip and wandering away. “Won’t be posting them anywhere for people to see, though….” 

Eventually -- finally -- the day drew to a close, and you crawled into bed with the knowledge that it was just one more night. One more night, and then in the morning you could say hello like you wanted to. One more night and you wouldn’t want to bite his head off. One more night and you wouldn’t feel so mental, as he would put it. 

And yet, lying there, the minutes dragged. Ten? No, just one. Fifteen? Five. 

It felt like Christmas, though. As much as this was pure torture, this was what Christmas was supposed to feel like -- like it used to feel when you were a kid and you’d wait for weeks tingling anticipation, counting down, hoping that you’d find what you wanted under the tree, bursting with more energy than any amount of sugar could give you. Except instead of presents, or money, or sweets, you were waiting for the man who’d been under your nose for two weeks by this point. You got to kiss your boyfriend tomorrow. You got to see your boyfriend, hold your boyfriend, and celebrate Christmas with your boyfriend. 

Twenty minutes? Two. 

12:02.

Two minutes after midnight.

Christmas.

Fourteen days. 

Oh!

You sprang from the bed before you could think about the matter and darted to the door over the cold wooden floor, but when you rounded the corner in the hallway, out of nowhere, something all but slammed into you. Sucking in a sharp breath with a screwed up face, you squeaked when you collided with a very warm, very sturdy frame. Belatedly, two arms shot out to grab you by yours to steady you. “Oh my God, I--”

Hair, forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth, too. No mask. 

“Are you o--?”

He didn’t get to finish his question. You clapped your hands over his cheeks and kissed him soundly before he could kiss you first. Under ordinary circumstances, he’d laugh -- you both would -- but rather than that, he locked both his arms around you tightly and spun you, teetering precariously with you in tow until you got to the guest bed. Tackle was an apt word for how he delivered you to it, but you were the farthest thing from upset at finally having not even an inch of space between you. The bed smelled like him and it was warm, he was warm, and you were kissing again, and again, and again, cold noses smushing together as you found new angles. 

“Christmas,” he mumbled between them.

“Mmhm,” you returned against his mouth, legs interlocking with his. “I missed you,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too.” 

Shivering, you both pulled the duvet up over your shoulders, and you curled up against him. Cologne, skin, and laundry detergent, with a bit of his minty toothpaste. There was no scented candle for that. You pressed your fingers against his chest and scratched lightly through the smattering of hair there. “We could go to our bed,” you reminded him, but he shook his head.

“Y’here now,” he rasped, leaning in to press his lips comfortably to your hairline, one arm draped over your back. “Let’s stay here tonight and we can change things later.” 

“Were you coming to get me?” you asked, voice shaking as the last of the shivers left your bones. 

“Yeah,” he admitted. You laughed, teeth chattering, and he pulled you closer. “Don’t laugh!” he said, rubbing your back and warming you. “S’been two weeks for me, hasn’t it?”

“For you!”

“You try bein’ home with you for that long,” he mumbled. 

Shaking again, but less than before, you kissed the underside of his chin. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.” 

***

When you woke up, his back was to you, and his one shoulder was rising and falling with the rhythm of his sputtery, wheezy snores. You smiled, closing your eyes, and snuggled into the pillow. Better -- much better. You dozed on for an unknown amount of time, and you were walking the line between sleep and consciousness when featherlight kisses across your brow startled you and you jerked awake.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, only sounding slightly truthful. You made a noise and stretched, shaking from head to toe before curling up into a tight little ball next to him and opening your eyes fully. His own were puffy with sleep, but he grinned radiantly as if he’d been awake for a while.

“What?” you asked in a croak.

“Nothing,” he said. “Mum’s gonna call soon.”

Groaning, you halfheartedly turned your head to look over your shoulder. “What time is it?” you asked, straining to see the window and get a gauge. 

“S’ten,” he said. “So about three for them. Sure you don’t want to call from bed?” 

You glowered at him and his lip twitched. “I’ll put the coffee on.” 

When you finally managed to leave the warm nest of the bed, the living room had been transformed. The tree was on, twinkling under the streams of light pouring in through the windows, and he’d lit the fireplace, too, flames licking up and up behind the glass. Soft, melodic Christmas music floated from the far corners of the room, and the smell of coffee tickled your nose. 

“So,” he said from his spot at the island as he unwrapped cheeses and opened jars of olives, and jams, and honeys, and other goodies. “What time do we pop the bubbly?” 

Laughing softly, you shuffled over. “It’s ten.”

“Little after ten now,” he said, lips pressed tightly together and arms flexed until the lid popped. “And somewhere in the world it’s five o’clock.” 

You pulled a grape off the bunch lying on the counter and popped it into your mouth, chewing not so delicately but enjoying the sweet burst of freshness. You’d no sooner swallowed than his phone started buzzing and you grabbed it, sliding your finger to answer the call from the incoming Mum and pointing it at him.

“Happy Christmas, honey.” Anne’s voice was warm even through the phone, and Harry’s head whipped up.

“Wh-- Happy Christmas-- didn’t know you were-- ‘scuse the mess,” he said as you giggled behind the phone. 

“Having a good morning so far?” 

“Goin’ ok, yeah,” he said. “Just getting started, heating up the coffee.”

“Where’s your better half gotten off to?” 

Trying not to melt, you waved your hand in front of the camera. 

“Hello, love,” she said. “Happy Christmas.” 

“Happy Christmas, Anne.”

“Are we going to get to see you today?”

“Fair’s fair,” Harry chimed in. “Turn that thing around, why don’t you?” 

Rolling your eyes, you flipped the phone and waved, sliding around the counter to stand next to him. 

“That’s better,” Anne said with a firm nod. She had a red top on with a festive, sparkly necklace, and looked a good deal more put together than either one of you.

“Where’s Gem?” Harry asked, taking the phone from you so you could unbox the crackers. 

“Upstairs napping off the morning,” she said. “She’ll want to call again later.” 

And that was how the morning went, with each of you passing his mother back and forth while you carried plates and trays full of snacks to the coffee table and couch in front of the tree to nibble while tearing into gifts on camera, including a box full of chocolates for you, Branston pickle for him, and Christmas crackers for both of you to have, “A little bit of home this year.”

“Thank you,” you said, clutching your sweets close. “And thank you for--” Unbidden, you choked up, and Harry glanced at you sharply, his inquisition vanishing with his understanding. For sharing him -- allowing you to steal him away during the holidays in a year where everyone needed family, either by blood or choice. He squeezed your shoulders and his mother, as adept as he was at redirecting a conversation, piped up. 

“Promise you’ll come see us again next year,” Anne said. “It’s been too long.”

“It has been,” you agreed, resting your cheek on his shoulder. 

“Maybe sooner.” Harry looked down at you. “If things ease up?” 

You nodded. “Summer in London,” you mused. “That would be nice.”

“And then a bit of time back home. We could go before things pick up in August.”

Summer in London. A beacon of hope you couldn’t erect just yet, but a beacon nevertheless. A bit of time with him before he, hopefully, went back to work and you got to revisit adjusted and postponed plans. 

The rest of your Christmas Day was quiet -- different from the year before when you’d been overwhelmed with names, faces, screeches of Uncle Harry, and not being sure how to break your way in. You kept trays of cheese, crackers, and other snacks within an arm’s reach, and by the early afternoon both of you had a comfortably steady buzz from the bubbly he was good at topping off both your glasses with -- never sloppily drunk, but enough to be warm in your fingers and toes and to seek out cuddles from him under the blanket you were snuggled in on the sofa with paper crowns on both your heads. 

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, ribs crunched from how far you’d slid down on the sofa to nestle into his side, all but eye-level with his chest. “And have it not be as awful as it sounds?” 

You felt his laugh before you heard it. “Sure,” he drawled. “What is it?” 

Squeezing his wrist, you turned your mouth into his forearm, eyes on the television as a snowman leapt and bounded over a wide, snowy plain before jumping into the air. “I like this Christmas,” you admitted into his skin. 

Harry snorted. “S’not awful, s’the point -- Christmas is supposed to be likeable.”  

“You know what I mean,” you said, sighing. “I know it’s just us and there’s no family or anyone around, but… I dunno… it’s not all bad, is it?” 

“Like having me to yourself?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Shut up,” you mumbled. 

He kissed the top of your head, crown crunching under it, and you grunted. “S’not so bad,” he said into your hair. “Like having you all to myself, too, y’know.” 

“You’re just saying that because you have to because you’re stuck with me,” you said and he laughed with another smacking kiss. 

“Not stuck with me yet,” he crooned. “Can leave any time you want.” 

“Maybe I will….”

“Oi!”

Giggling, you untangled yourself from him and squirmed out from underneath the blanket. “More bubbly?” 

***

Boxing Day was a Christmas redux, with more cheese, sparkling wine, music, and calls with family and friends. Long distance versions of old favorite games were adapted and adopted, and you snickered quietly from the corner of the couch, staying out of his way when he shouted about how he had hit the button, it was his trackpad that hadn’t worked. 

The late afternoon and on, though, was yours together and alone with the time difference breaking up the party earlier than it normally would be. The bittersweet cloud vanished, though, when you at some point you separated even further into your own activities -- him with his stack of new books and you with a film you played quietly on your laptop. Able to be near each other without having to be wrapped up and begging with your bodies for sorely missed attention, it finally, really, felt like home again. 

“It’s so pretty out,” you murmured, nose pressed to the windowpane to see as much of the light-lined streets as you could. It got dark earlier and earlier these days, and yet later than it had even a few days ago. “I love Christmas in New York. I wish--” You caught yourself ahead of finishing the sentence, thinking better. 

You wished it was a normal year -- for many reasons -- so you two could go out and see the city. So you could show him your favorite places, so you could make memories together like you had with him last year. It wasn’t anything life altering or new, but it was different when you were with someone you loved. You wanted him to know you -- all of you, even the unknowable parts. 

“Y’know,” he said next to your ear, hand on the back of your neck as he slunk up behind you, “it’s getting pretty late.”

You turned your head slightly, looking at him in the reflection of the glass. “Do you want to go to bed?” 

Too early for sleep. Was he asking for sex? 

Harry hummed and shook his head. “How ‘bout you get your coat on?” he murmured. “Let’s have that Boxing Day walk we didn’t get last year.”

“Now?”

“When else?” he said. “Haven’t been out yet, and it’s late. Streets’ll be empty. We can go wherever, do whatever, see whatever.” 

“You’re serious?” 

Nodding, he pulled you by the arm and you stumbled with him, still processing it even as you pulled beanies on with masks and (winter) gloves.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He shrugged, calling the elevator. “Dunno,” he said. “Figured you’d lead the way. Show me your favorite bits. Seem t’remember summat about Bryant Park last year.” 

There were sobering realities at the street level, too. Gates were down on storefronts that hadn’t been pulled up since March, awnings above them tattered from months of neglect and ‘For Rent’ signs flapping against them in the wind. The usual post-holiday influx of tourists was thinned, with hardly a white sneaker in sight, and everything was just a little quieter than it should be and would be in a usual year.

But there were lights. Broadway’s may have dimmed for the time being, but endless, endless displays of lights, brighter without the ambient light pouring from storefronts diminishing their power, offered beacons of hope -- literal lighthouses in a storm of a year -- and led you uptown like a trail of breadcrumbs. 

You pulled him this way and that way, weaving through side streets to look at any display that looked bright enough from a distance, fingers locked tightly with his in a way they never were outside of the house. As bittersweet as it was no one was out, it afforded you a level of privacy you never had, anywhere. Not even Holmes Chapel. You couldn’t remember a time where you’d ever held his hand for this long at one time, if you were honest, and while you didn’t need it, you enjoyed the option. 

In between zigs and zags, he mumbled stories to you about this time, and another time, and a time after that, pointing at buildings, venues, restaurants, and hotels, and you listened half in awe and half in earnest. It was a whole other life he’d lived without you before, and you’d only been aware of the surface of it. Nobody knew what he was telling you except the people he’d lived it with, and you didn’t think you’d ever get over or be able to thank him for trusting you to be someone he chose to share it with. 

“I love Sixth,” you said, sighing as you walked past giant red Christmas ornaments three times the size of you both, the reflection of the string lights wrapped around tree branches bouncing off their shiny surfaces. Radio City’s electric red script beamed at you both from a distance, and traffic lights winked and waved in the wind up and down the avenue. “They do a lot with it.” 

“It’s pretty,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Tree’s this way, isn’t it?” he asked. 

You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah,” you said. 

He jerked his head and you blinked. 

“You want to?” you asked. 

“Just a bit,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

“There’s people!” you warned him, because even from here you could see the trickle of people with the same thought. “And I saw online they have a schedule--”

“We don’t have to get close,” he said, pulling you firmly. “S’big enough we don’t need to, just wanna take a peek.” 

He was so certain, but you were less so, because all you needed was someone to see him to break the serene bubble you’d blown around yourselves. Despite that, you shuffled with him until the tree was visible, a bright, glowing ball of multi-colored lights stretching towards the sky. “Wow,” you whispered under your breath. 

“S’nice,” he said and you nodded your agreement. It was nice -- despite the sad press it had gotten, the tree had turned out very nice at the end of it all, tall and impossibly beating all odds. What a metaphor for the year.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, squeezing him around the middle. 

“Come here,” Harry said next to your ear.

“Hmm?” Reluctantly tearing your eyes from the tree, you gasped when he pulled your mask down first and then his own in two swift tugs, revealing a cheeky grin with a face cradled by the fabric. “What are you doing?” you asked, eyes darting around. 

“Getting a kiss by the tree with my girlfriend,” he said. “Now, come here,” he repeated. This time, you obliged and allowed him to steal one, two, three kisses, each one of them smashed against your lips with a palpable sort of eagerness that made you think he would drink you if he could. This felt… normal. Normal, safe, and free. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like that. 

When you broke and burrowed against his neck, he covered the back of your head and wrapped his other arm around your back, cocooning you in the shell of the most protective embrace he could give. Just a man -- any man, a regular man -- holding the person he loved, and, after his decision to stay with you through Christmas and New Years, he arguably loved you most. 

Through the thick knit of your beanie, you felt him kissing your head, and you nuzzled into his scarf. “Thank you,” you said, face safely out of sight. “For coming here.” 

“Not mad a’me for it?” he mumbled and you shook your head. “‘Kay, good.” 

Shivering, you huddled closer and he tightened his arms, shielding you from the brisk wind. 

“People will see,” you said, but despite that you held him closer. 

“Who cares?”

He did, despite his quiet rasp. He did, and you knew why he did, but right then, you could pretend that it didn’t matter at all. 

***

It was simultaneously the longest and shortest week of your life. 

The longest, because time didn’t exist, much like it hadn’t for most of the year. Days, afternoons, evenings, and nights blended together, blurred by a happy holiday haze onset by too much of everything good -- sleep, sustenance, and spirits. The weird, if nice, part of all the extra time was having the chance to do things you’d enjoyed over the course of the year all over again. Nine times out of ten, when the two of you were together, it was rushed even on the long layovers. You’d watch one series or a film the whole way through, and next time you’d have to be on to the next one you’d agreed to hold off on until the other was there, but after having spent most of the year under the same roof, the typical race to the next one was paused. Instead, you settled in for old Christmas films and other ones you hadn’t seen since you first started properly dating, lending a timeless sort of quality to the week. 

The shortest, because he’d only just gotten there. How had it been three weeks since he’d walked in the front door with a mask on and a warning? Three weeks, two of them masked, and now it was over and done. The whole year was over and done, with 2020 coming to a slow close after feeling simultaneously like it never would and like it was moving much, much too fast. Who would’ve known this would be how it would turn out after kicking it off in the back of his car with a paper plate full of snacks and the countdown on his phone? You’d made it through another year, together. 

“Do you know what I just realized?” you asked as you unpacked the bag from El Diablito at the kitchen counter. In the background, the low hum of commentators on the TV remarking about how different this year was provided a steady buzz amidst familiar scenery of lights in different cities. Berlin had gone first, then London, and now, gradually, the new year on the east coast was gliding ever closer. 

“What?” he asked over the noise of him unfurling the bag of tortilla chips. 

“This was our first year together,” you said. “Full--” you drew an arc through the air-- “year, I mean. Saying it and all that.” 

He didn’t say anything, but when you looked at him the corner of his mouth was lifted up slightly. “S’pose it is, yeah. Feels like longer.” He fished a chip out with his index and middle fingers before crunching into it noisily. 

“Almost three years of everything else,” you murmured, unwrapping a taco to inspect it. “This one’s yours.” 

“‘Everything else’?” he teased, snickering when you slid the taco across the counter to him. “Watch it, it’ll fall apart….” 

“Shut up and eat,” you said and he barked a laugh, grin permanent and eyes sparkling as he unwrapped it to peek.

“In a minute,” he said, setting down his food, satisfied it looked right. “Come here,” he said.

“Why?” you asked, smiling slightly though you eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

He motioned with his hand. “C’mere a minute,” he repeated, voice light but eyes tight, and he swallowed hard. A cold wave washed down you from head to toe. You didn’t know why you were suddenly so nervous, but the nerves themselves spiked your anxiety and made your scalp prickly and your palms sweaty, and they got worse when he grabbed one of your hands -- your left hand -- to hold between his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about summat.” 

Oh, God. 

“Harry,” you said, but he shook his head.

“Lemme do this.” 

Five seconds. Five seconds was all it took to imagine the words coming out of his mouth, quietly, with soft, trusting eyes waiting patiently, hopefully for an answer. Five seconds was all it took for you to imagine mucking it all up with a twisted tongue, not because you weren’t sure what to say, but how to say it. No, no, no -- you didn’t want to hurt him, not even temporarily, not even by accident. 

Clearing his throat, he squeezed your hand. “I dunno how to do this,” he said, and for the first time ever, you were pretty sure he laughed without his eyes. You made a noise in your throat and curled your fingertips into his palm. “I love you,” he continued, Adam’s apple bobbing, lips trying and failing to form a smile. He was terrified, but determined, and you held his hand tighter while pressing your opposite one into his cheek.

I love you, too. You couldn’t say it, but you felt them swelling in your chest, growing your heart not two, not even three, but six times over. 

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “M’going to spend the rest of my life with you,” with a thoughtful quality in his rasp. “I think, if-- if that’s somethin’ you….”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t, you were trying, but it was like sucking in helium. 

“So, m’kind of wondering if--”

“Harry--”

“I’m not,” he shook his head. “I’m not asking you anything right now, because we’re not ready.” He rubbed the back of your hand assuringly. “We’re not ready, you have… and I’m….” He exhaled sharply, dropping his head, and your hand moved from his cheek to his hair and you rubbed the back of his neck. “I just want to know,” he said, breathing heavily, with his voice muffled into his chest, talking very fast, barreling through and tripping over words, “if I’m totally off base here. Cause m’not gonna now when there’s so much shit happening, but like… I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth when-- if I do, so if I could just get an idea of what you think, because we had a talk once but now every time you cut me off at the knees and--”

He sputtered, stopping short, and you pressed your face into his short hair. 

“I want it,” you said, sounding braver than you felt admitting wants out loud. “I do. I will.” 

His shoulders fell with his slow, deep breaths, and you rubbed your fingertips into his scalp gently.

“I will,” you say. “Promise,” you added, voice cracking. “You’re not off base.”

Neither of you said anything for a while. You couldn’t -- you quite literally, physically couldn’t -- and he was gulping for air as quietly as he could. 

“Okay,” he said into his chest finally, sounding inexplicably embarrassed. “S’good to know.”

Silly, silly man. Did he really think… did he doubt…? “I love you,” you murmured. 

“I know,” he said. “I know y’do.”

“No, you don’t.” You kissed his head. “I love you, I-- you’ll never know.” 

Harry took a deep breath before straightening up, head high and curls falling over his forehead above the weariest, most agonized eyes you’d ever seen. His cheeks were bright red, and he might as well have just run a marathon for how spent and miserable he looked. 

“I promise,” you repeated. “I promise, honey.”

He nodded slightly, mouth still set in a thin, grim line, and, instinctively, you stepped in to kiss him, because no. No, that wouldn’t do. Stiff and unmoving at first under your lips, gradually he warmed and softened, releasing your hand to grab your hips and you moaned softly, hands running across his shoulders over his hoodie. You promised -- when it was right, when you both could, if he asked and it was what you both wanted? There was only one answer you’d ever give. 

The stool scraped against the floor when he stood, but he never broke the kiss, and you squeaked when you stumbled back against the counter. You opened your mouth wider when he coaxed you to, dizzy behind your closed eyes, and you let your hands wander freely, pulling him into you as the intensity behind the kiss escalated from comfort to need.

Two weeks. Two weeks -- three -- of pent up energy. Of hardly being able to touch each other, of being close but not close enough. 

“Come here,” he demanded in a mumble, the firm hold he had on your jaw to hold you in place as he kissed you the way he wanted leaving you breathless. Rarely did he ever do that; usually, he guided you into what you both wanted to build it until the bubble of tension popped. There was something thrilling about being told though -- something that reminded you of when you were new, three months instead of almost three years in. Something that was like when time was limited and you had to be efficient to learn each other and what would feel good and do good for the other and yourselves, and telling was sometimes all you had. 

Harry broke away with a wounded little noise and you blinked, dazed. “M’just….” He grabbed two tacos with one hand and threw them back into the paper bag. “M’moving these.” Tacos, nachos, and burritos all went back in, topped off with the chips, and he shoved them aside with some impatience. You laughed breathily and lifted yourself up onto the counter with his help, but it faded when he stepped between your legs and cupped your cheek and jaw and you caught a glimpse of the blown pupils and flushed cheeks that gave him a wild, primal look before your own eyes shut. 

Each and every tender sponging of his lips across your jaw and down your neck made you ache, and it was all you could do to stay upright and not collapse back, limp from how weak you were. His needy, mesmerized groans made your belly tighten, and when he tugged the hem of your shirt you nodded. 

Shirt, sweatshirt, bra, and undershirt were the first to go, and the straps had no sooner fallen down your shoulders than you let out a wordless, guttural shout from deep in your chest when Harry latched on and sucked your nipple with greedy enthusiasm, moving with you when you squirmed, his stubble scraping the soft skin of your breast. 

“Oh my God,” you gasped, eyes watering and elbow nearly buckling underneath you in your effort to hold yourself up. “Yes, please,” you said when he pulled the strings on your sweats. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, releasing with a pop and latching on again. “That’s my girl… gonna make it better for you.” He stood tall again when he pulled by the waistline, and you wriggled until they were at your knees and you could kick them off the rest of the way with your underwear as he dropped his own to his ankles. 

With nothing left between you, you shivered, shrinking into him when he stepped closer and drew his hands around your body in a circuit. Legs first, stomach, back, breasts, shoulders, arms, and repeat, each squeeze and dig of his hands and fingers just a little restrained and not as zealous as his groans and heavy breathing made him out to be -- like he was trying to be good, or patient, or….

“It’s ok,” you murmured between kisses. “You don’t have to wait.” They’d done the waiting -- more than enough of it. You just wanted him now.

“Sure?” Harry rasped and you nodded, eyes rolling up when he slipped his fingers between you both and they slipped up and down your folds. “Sure,” he confirmed under his breath. “Open a little more for me, love-- there we are, thank you.” 

You folded your arms around his neck and over his back and locked your ankles loosely just under his ass, heart racing in your chest. 

“Breathe in--” Harry murmured and you squeezed your eyes shut when he fit his head against your entrance. It slid and you laughed, kissing his jaw when he kissed your brow through his grin. “Deep breath for me.” 

Every time. He did that almost every time with you, first asking for a deep breath and then, invariably, pulling a long exhale from you when he thrust into your warm, wet cunt. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered in awe, holding still. You could feel the tremors pulling each fiber in his muscles, and when he throbbed inside you, you bit your lip. “Holy shit, you’ve got me good,” he groaned. 

You laughed once. “Yeah.” Yeah, something like that. Wincing, you rolled your hips forward and gasped softly from the stretch before tightening your arms and pressing your face against his hot skin. You nuzzled in between your own slow, lingering kisses, taking deep, grounding breaths. He was soft, and smooth, but firm, and hard, and he smelled amazing. Clean -- all soap and cologne with some detergent that smelled even more from the warmth of his skin. 

“Oh, God,” you whispered. “Oh, God, I--” You sucked in a harsh breath, abdomen tightening as you pulsed around him, feeling wetter, and you moved your face higher, nose pressed into the base of his sheared hair as you moaned quietly. “Oh my God, I love you.” Pitchy, bordering on hysteria, but you’d be hard pressed to remember a time you felt it as much as you meant it like you did right then. “I love you, I love-- I-- you feel--” Good. Better than good. No one had ever fit like he had -- too much, but just enough, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

“I love….” Harry gulped. “Shit, ok, m’gonna….” He made to pull his shoulders back, but you shook your head. 

“No, no, stay,” you begged, wrapping your arms and legs tighter. “Stay, please,” you murmured. 

“I can’t-- ok,” he panted. “Lemme….” He gripped your ass and pulled you closer and your back arched as you opened your thighs just a little more. “There we go,” he grunted, hips snapping forward as he finally moved. “That’s… fuck, that’s better now.” 

You could hear the effort you could feel between your legs -- each sharp pull of breath between his teeth, each muted grunt between his driving thrusts, and the pants he let out when he had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. “M’ok,” he said every time between labored gulps for air. “M’good, I just need to--” and he grit his teeth before he began again, and again, you gasped and whimpered, shrinking closer to him. 

You didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, now or ever. You didn’t want to be this close to anyone else again ever. This was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to meet you, know you, fall in love with you, nor you with him, but now he had, and you were, and you couldn’t imagine it any other way. You couldn’t imagine a world in which he didn’t come home to you, for you, and where you weren’t there. Not waiting -- never waiting on a man, any man, but ready for him when he returned and ready to move forward together. 

He was yours. He was yours, and you were his, and the mere thought pulled something behind your belly button, making you groan.

“What?” he asked, kissing the side of your head. “What, darling, what?”

“I’m gonna cum,” you whispered and then whimpered, tightening your hold around his neck and in his hair. “Harry--” you choked, shuddering with your deep breaths.

“I know.” He grunted, thrusting with slightly more power. “Fuck! Tight little--”

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Don’t stop, I’m close, I’m so-- I just need--” Faster and faster you rolled your hips against his, crying out against him when he wedged his thumb between you both to catch your clit, a stream of mumbled, “I’m gonna cum, you’re making me cum,” confessions hidden in his neck. Deep breaths. Long, slow, and deep, with your toes curling behind him until you were barely breathing in your efforts to concentrate, because you were right there. And then, you did cum, hard, convulsing and sucking in harshly as you trembled your way through whimpers of his name, immediately and thoroughly exhausted. 

Both his arms locked around you, then, all but crushing you to his torso in his efforts to hold you up, and he thrust hard, fast, deep, getting the right rhythm and stroke he needed. Barely able to keep your eyes open, your mouth moved soundlessly around the demand -- request -- to cum. Cum, Harry, cum, baby, please. Wordlessly, he sputtered through a sharp exhale, and it was the only indication before you felt the hot, wet release accompanying his groans.

“Fuck,” he choked, one of his hands landing hard on the counter to prop both of you up. You laughed, eyes rolling up, and you held on tightly through his turn to shake. 

“Happy New Year,” you said, still feeling a little punch-drunk from your orgasm.

He nodded. “H-Happy--” he gulped. “Happy New Year, darling.” His shoulders slumped. “Reckon this was the problem,” he said. “Should’ve fuckin’ rung the year in right last time, y’know?” 

“Right,” you breathed even as you shook your head, not quite caught up with what he was saying. 

“M’only sayin’,” he said. “We had sex the one time last Christmas. Should’ve had… a bit more,” he said indeterminately. 

“We haven’t had sex since you’ve been home.” 

Sighing heavily, he kissed your shoulder. “S’pose we’d better start,” he slurred. “S’not the new year yet.” 

#harry x reader #reader insert fanfiction #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harry styles blurb #harry blurb #harry styles one shot #harry one shot #christmas #blurred lines #blurred lines: adc #blurred lines: a different christmas #a different christmas #permanentcross #original writing