#the chapter is called Baby Harry... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

Text

One Day*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you still hate Harry, but turns out, you might be having his baby.

Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, spanking, brief choking, slight angst (happy ending), mentions of pregnancy and babies! *Please be so gentle with yourself and only continue if you feel comfortable! 💞*

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

You huff. “I’m late,” you repeat, gesturing frantically toward your hips. “A week late. Which I know can happen, but…not really to me, so…I’m late. And I think we’re fucked.”

Harry blinks. Looks down at your stomach. Looks up at your face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You rear back. “That’s all you have to say for yourself is oh?”

He lifts his left shoulder in nonchalant shrug before flopping down onto your sofa. “I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

“I…I don’t know,” you huff. “I kind of thought you’d…yell. Or freak out or something. Or ask me if I’m keeping it.”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“Well…no. Not really.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t even…I’m not even sure if I am yet or not.”

“Okay.” He nudges his glasses up before crossing his arms. “Well did you get a test?”

You glance toward the pharmacy bag still sitting on your kitchen counter. It’s been mocking you ever since you picked it up. Staring you down, sticking out its tongue. One, tiny little box that’ll determine the next chapter of your life. It’s almost infuriating.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I, um…got one on the way home from work.”

“Okay. Have you taken it yet?”

“Not…exactly.”

His brow raises. “Do you…need help or something?”

You scowl. “It’s peeing on a stick, I think I’ve got it covered.��

“Yeah, well, knowing you, you’d find a way to fuck it up.” He smirks. “Sure hope our baby gets my brains instead of yours.”

You grab the pillow beside him and give him a firm whack. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs as he winces. “Good. I wasn’t being funny.”

“Then, stop it. And stop being so calm.”

“You just said you preferred calm—”

“Well…it’s scaring me now. So what gives?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t really feel the need to waste a reaction on something we don’t even know is happening yet. Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like.”

“You say that like someone that’s had a lot of pregnancy scares.”

He snorts. “No, I say that like someone who knows freaking out won’t exactly help you right now. So just take the goddamn test, Tinkerbell. And we’ll go from there.”

Unamused, but somehow slightly comforted, you oblige and snatch the box from the table before retreating to the bathroom.

Once the timer has been set, you slowly make your way back to him.

He’s still sitting on the sofa. Calm. Unaffected. Watching you without a care in the world. Like his whole life isn’t about to change.

It drives you nuts.

“Five minutes,” you tell him.

He nods.

Warily, you sit in the chair to his left, staring holes through your shoes as your heart races inside your chest. You’re not sure how you got here. Not sure where you could possibly go. You aren’t ready for a baby. Not…yet. Especially not one with…him.

“Hey,” he calls, pulling your attention up. “S’the matter with you?”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell do you think?”

Another casual shrug that makes your teeth grit. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” You lean back. “Why on Earth would I be happy about getting stuck with your DNA for the rest of my life?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just seem like the type of girl to want a lot of babies.”

You scoff. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am not.” You don’t think.

“Really? Is that why you begged me to breed you?”

“I didn’t actually mean it. That’s just what you say in a moment like that.”

His eyebrow raises.

You hesitate. “Did…did you mean it?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I mean, yeah, maybe I didn’t mean right this second, but…I don’t hate the idea.”

“You actually want to be a father?” You snort. “Bullshit. You hate kids. I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just don’t care about them when they aren’t mine.” He throws his arm over the back of the chair and smirks. “I like my nieces, though. They’re chill.”

You blink. “You…you have nieces? Wait, you have siblings?”

“Yeah. One brother. He’s got two kids and they’re cute as shit.”

“Oh.” Your head starts to pound. “See? We can’t have a baby when I don’t even know anything about you.”

He chuckles to himself before nodding his chin at you. “All right, fine. Go ahead. Ask me whatever.”

“What?”

“Ask me what you wanna know.”

You think. “Okay. How often do you see your family?”

“Often enough. They live in California, and they work a lot. But we call every couple of weeks.”

“Oh. That’s…surprisingly nice. Uh…do you have a history of disease in your family?”

He grins. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” You motion at him. “Answer.”

“This isn’t an interview—”

“Answer.”

“No,” he says. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Great. Do you plan to be a deadbeat father?”

His eyes roll. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“So, yes? You do? Oh, great—”

“No, because that’s not a fair fucking question—”

“It is a fair question. If I have to raise this baby alone, I want to know—”

“Of course you wouldn’t fucking be alone. Do you really think so little of me—”

“I don’t think about you at all. How am I supposed to know what you’ll do—”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he nearly snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself before adding, “Even if it wasn’t my baby, I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Your lashes flutter and you can feel your heart lodging in your throat. “Fine. Last question.”

He waits.

“Did you ever want kids…before? With…her?”

He doesn’t have to think for very long, but the mention of her makes him smile. “Nah. We talked about it, but we weren’t ready. We liked it being just us, you know? We had a bunch of shit we wanted to do. We were a long way from babies and a white picket fence.”

You try to blink back the tears swimming their way to your eye. You can still see that beautiful picture of her in his room. An entire future of love and life and adventures that he lost. Now…he’s stuck with you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You swipe your knuckle along your cheek. “So, you probably still aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Harry, come on. You aren’t ready for a baby. I’m not ready for a baby. We…we don’t know each other, we don’t like each other…we can’t do this. You know that.”

“Do I?” He leans forward. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. I think we can handle it.”

“Well, I don’t. You don’t even like me. You can’t have a baby with me.”

“Why not? People do it all the time.”

“But not us.” You give him a firm stare. “Harry, we love our jobs. We want careers, not kids. So having a baby kind of gets in the way of that. There’s…there’s diaper changes, and teething, and potty training—”

“So?”

“So. We don’t work together well. In fact, it’s a rather well-known fact that we don’t get along. We can’t possibly raise a kid. We’d ruin it.” You study him for a beat, unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you actually want this to be real?”

Another shrug and you nearly lunge at him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, resting his elbows on his knees while he glances at the floor. “I’m older now. Maybe it’s time to…think about settling down.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He laughs. “Look, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but…maybe it could be a good thing.”

You stand from your chair and pace the length of your small living room. “This is crazy. This is crazy. I can’t have a baby, I’m…I’m not ready. I’m too young, I…I don’t even know what I’d do with one. Or if I even have a maternal instinct.”

“Probably not,” Harry offers, smirking when you glare. “You won’t really know until you have one.”

“Oh, great.”

“Listen, if you feel like you aren’t ready…we can find another alternative,” he says, softening his voice. “Okay? There are plenty of other options and we’ll find one you feel comfortable with.”

A tad wary of his sympathetic answer, you eye him closely. “Yeah? And what if we disagree?”

“We won’t,” he says calmly. “Your body, your decision.”

“Right,” you snort. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t be the one having to carry it.” He nods as though to reassure you. “Honestly, Tink. This would be your decision, one hundred percent. It’s not mine to make. Just to support.”

The tears rush a little faster as you sniffle and step closer. “You say that now, but what if I decide something you don’t like?”

“I will like it. I promise,” he murmurs, standing up in order to move toward you. “If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, great.”

“I…I…” You suck in a deep breath, unable to slow the wild racing in your chest. “Fuck, I can’t…I don’t know—”

“Hey, okay, easy. Easy, Princess,” he says, quickly reaching out to take you in his arms and ease you against his chest. “Relax. Okay? Just breathe. Breathe for me.”

“I…I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can. You are.” His lips press to the top of your head while his hand runs up and down your back soothingly. “I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here. You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

You squeeze your arms together and hold on with everything you have. Right now, he feels like your only anchor in the world. The only person strong enough to carry you both through to the other side. And for the first time since you met him…you feel glad that he’s here.

The two of you stand in the middle of the room for a long while before he finally murmurs, “I think it’s been five minutes.”

Your eyes close and you grip his shirt in your first. “I’m…I’m not ready to look.”

“Okay.” You can hear the smile in his response. “Okay, we can wait.”

So, you do as the truth starts to build in your chest. Inescapable, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down.

Finally, you can’t help but whisper, “You know what scares me the most?”

“Hm?”

“…that maybe I’m hoping it’s real.”

The apartment falls silent again. He doesn’t push you to elaborate, but you can feel his heart beating just a little faster inside his chest.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I don’t…I really don’t think I’m ready, but…but what if I should be? What if…what if we met and we started this because…because we were supposed to do this?”

He considers this. “Like fate.”

“Yeah.” You roll your lips into your mouth. “Because I still hate you. I do. I just…I’m starting to get this picture in my head of us. Being a family. Having a big house in a good school district. Tucking them into bed at night and reading them stories. Which is…dumb.”

“No,” he mumbles. “No, it’s not dumb. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because I meant what I said, I’d love to get you pregnant. You’d look really fucking hot.”

You chuckle. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh…okay?”

He smirks. “I never had a breeding kink until I met you.”

You lean back and swat your hand across his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“What? I’m being serious.” He grins and those dimples pop free. God, you hope your kids have his dimples—

No. Nope. You aren’t going there.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. “Whatever. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.” His gentle gaze sweeps across your face. “If you wanna do this…we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll have this baby, and we’ll raise it to be really smart, and funny, and to not take shit from anybody.”

You laugh, brushing away a few more tears. “Maybe we can teach it to write code.”

“Oh, fucking obviously.”

The two of you smile before the excitement seems to fizzle and Harry’s brows pull together.

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I know that’s our thing, and I know you said it earlier, but…I don’t actually hate you. This baby wouldn’t grow up with two parents that don’t like each other.”

“Oh…I…I know.”

“Good. Because I don’t want that to be one of the reasons you think we can’t do it. I’d fucking love that baby. And I’d love you for carrying it.”

Instantly, you both seem to still. The four-letter word sounds so loud inside such a small room.

I’d love you.

He clears his throat, shifting a bit as he glances toward the kitchen. “I mean, I’d…I’d appreciate you for carrying it—”

“No, yeah, I know,” you stammer. “I know what you mean.”

“Good. Yeah.”

The two of you fall quiet again before you softly admit, “I think I’m ready to look.”

“Okay.” He squeezes your hip. “I’m right here.”

You take in a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of his arms. You already miss his warmth and the way he felt like home and your stomach turns as you slip into the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you reach for the stick that sits on the edge of your sink. And in those three seconds, an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes.

The good, the bad, and the everything in-between. You see a house and a dog and a big backyard. You see two little kids rolling in the grass and jumping into the pool. You hear them begging for a bedtime story and crying when they scrape their knee.

You see a dozen birthdays and holidays and visits to the zoo. You see their heartbreaks and triumphs, their successes and letdowns. You see a million goodnight kisses and cuddles on the couch.

And then…you see Harry.

In every picture, every moment. Taking them to their first baseball game and picking them up from their first dance. Sneaking them into R-rated movies even after you explicitly said no and feeding them far too much candy and popcorn.

You see him teach your son how to tie a tie and dance with your daughter as she stands on his feet. You see him cooking breakfast in the kitchen, flour all over his face. You see him curled up in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. You hear him tell you how happy he is. How glad that he found you.

It’s a beautiful life. Even if it’s not the one you imagined for yourself. And in that moment, you decide that it doesn’t matter what the test says. If that’s your future, so be it.

As long as you get to live it with him.

“So?” Harry calls from the hall.

You swallow thickly and slowly glance down.

Negative.

No baby. No pregnancy. No white-picket fence.

You stare at the test for at least a full minute. You aren’t sure how you feel. Relieved. Disappointed. Upset. Thankful. Confused.

“Tink?”

You turn around. “Uh…it’s negative,” you report, handing it to him. “False alarm. I guess I’m just late.”

He glances over the stick with a rather blank expression before looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. This is definitely the better outcome. I’m just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing it back. “I know.”

You throw the test away. “Sorry for making you come all the way over here for that.”

“Hey, whoa—” He strides into the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’d be here.”

“I just…I wasted your time. I should have taken it before I called you—”

“Tink,” he sighs, taking your cheeks in his hands. “Stop. You can always call me for shit like this.” He looks at you, then amends, “You can always me. For anything. You know that.”

A tear slips from your eye without warning, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. This is what I wanted—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. It’s hard.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup. “But this is good, right? This is better?”

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply stares at you with a rather sympathetic expression. Or maybe it’s forlorn. Maybe he’s disappointed. Upset that you aren’t giving him what he wants.

Then, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “This is good,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “We would have figured it out. And you would have been a wonderful mom. But I know you. And I know you aren’t ready. Not yet.”

You close your eyes and melt into the feel of his palms against your skin. Into the way he reassures you and protects you all in the same breath. You never thought you’d feel so safe in the serenity of his touch, but here you are. Wishing for him to hold you forever.

“And when we are ready, we’ll do it on our terms,” he says. “Okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “This is good,” you repeat to yourself. “It is. Really. Things are going great at work, I’m finally secure financially, and even you and I are…kind of getting along.”

He smirks.

“This is good. This is better.” You repeat the mantra until you really believe it. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been a very good pregnant woman anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’d be really cranky. Or needy. My ankles would get all swollen and I’d be hot all the time and nauseous and miserable. I’d probably try to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d definitely try to kill me. You try to kill me even when you aren’t pregnant.”

You gasp. “Rude.”

“What?” He chuckles again before his eyes slowly start to rake down your frame. “But I don’t know. I think it’ll be better than you think.”

You swat him again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to picture it.”

“Why? I told you, you’d look fucking hot.”

“Yeah…no.”

However, he only nods, moving in to subtly brush his lips against yours. “You would. Be so fucking beautiful carrying our baby. With your tits all swollen and your belly getting bigger every day.”

Truthfully, the image almost makes you grimace, but there’s something about the way he says it. The way he talks about you so reverently. A soft, sultry murmur that goes straight to your cunt. Because you know he’s not just saying it to say it. He means it. Believes it. Would do anything for it.

He tilts your head back, thumb brushing along your jaw. “And I think you like it,” he exhales. “I think you like the idea of holding me inside you. Having a part of me. Knowing that I did it to you. No one else.”

You suck in a soft breath, knees going just a bit weak. “Harry…”

“What, baby?” His mouth ghosts along your neck. “Are you thinking about it? Thinking about how pretty your tummy would look with me inside it?”

He’s evil. Absolutely evil, and you clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain control of yourself. “Do you…have a pregnancy kink I don’t know about?”

His lips quirk up. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” Your lashes flutter and the urge to kiss him grows stronger. “You know…some women get really horny when they’re pregnant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no?”

You shake your head. “I mean, do you really think you could keep up? Going for hours and hours on end? Trying to keep me satiated with your poor, limp little dick?”

He makes another noise, and you tsk.

“I mean, you can barely satisfy me now as it is. But if I was pregnant? Pfft. Forget it.”

Instantly, he’s snatching hold of your hips and yanking you against his chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Princess,” he nearly growls. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” you retort. “You’ve gone soft on me. Rubbing my back, kissing my hair. You wanna take care of me and honestly? It’s a little pathetic.”

His head cocks rather deviously and your pulse begins to skip. He could split you in half if he wanted to and you both know it.

But that’s what you need right now. You don’t want to be coddled or looked after. You wanna be fucked. Tortured and teased until you’re begging for release.

You want an escape.

And in that moment, Harry decides to give you one.

He picks you up and carries you out of the bathroom while your legs quickly work to hook to his hips for stability and your arms snake around his neck.

He ignores your squeals and teasing huffs of annoyance, instead dropping you onto your mattress with a soft thud.

You glare and push up onto your elbows. “You know, you don’t have to manhandle me—”

“Shut up.”

He surges forward, lips gliding against yours as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. And kissing is easy with him. As easy breathing, like you’ve done it all your life. You know exactly what he likes, what he wants. And you give it him.

His glasses are cold against your face, keeping him from getting as close as he’d like, and after a moment, he huffs, and rips them off before tossing them aside. And even though you adore when he wears them, you happen to adore being near him even more.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging on his curls, scratching down his neck. He has the added advantage of being on top, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from turning to putty in your hands. Clay for you to mold to your liking.

No matter how dominant he tries to be, he’s simply a man that needs to be told what to do. Taken care of. Shown.

And you happen to like showing him.

You feel him tug on the hem of your shirt. “Off,” he breathes between carnal nips to your throat. “I want this off, Tink.”

Happy to oblige, you push him back so you can lift yourself up before you peel the fabric from your chest. You take your time with the bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms oh so slowly. You don’t rush to reveal yourself to him, instead letting him anticipate you. Until his heart is racing and his eyes are darkening and he’s resisting the urge to do it himself.

But once he can finally see you, he nearly groans. “Oh, good fucking girl.”

He resumes his work. More kisses are left to the warm, tender skin, and he happily sucks bruises into each swell and curve of your breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue. His hands are greedy—ravenous. Pulling at your flesh, clawing his way along your frame.

When he reaches your thighs, you whimper. You’ve missed the way he touches you. The way he pries your legs apart and makes a home between.

In a rush, he snaps your panties off into his fist and you toss him a punishing glare.

He smiles.

You rid each other of your remaining clothes in a frantic fashion until they’re nothing more than a dirty pile on the floor. Messy and familiar. Fated.

He drops down onto the bed back first, effortlessly swapping positions as you’re placed in a straddle over his waist.

“Good girl, let me see you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You reach down and take his hardening cock in your hand, running it along your cunt before teasing yourself with the tip.

“Didn’t stretch you,” he mumbles, leaving a few stray kisses to your collarbone. “S’might hurt, so—”

You push him in, simultaneously sinking down in an effort to feel a more prominent burn., and you both make a rather lewd noise as the grip on your chin tightens.

“Tink,” he hisses with a punishing look of his own. “Careful—”

You drop yourself further, muscles tensing around the thickness until your thighs begin to shake.

“Hey—” He forces your eyes on his. “Enough. Be gentle, m’not gonna hurt you—”

“I want you to,” you pant. “Please. I need it. I…fuck, Har, I need it. Please…please.”

He’s still frowning but his expression softens. “Baby…not like this. Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better—"

“No,” you whimper. Desperate. Fraught. “Harry, please, don’t stop. Don’t make me stop—”

“Hey, easy, easy.” He pulls your forehead to his. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You try to obey. Try to suck in a strangled gasp of air but it’s useless. He’s gonna take himself from you. He’s gonna leave, and you’ll be empty, and alone, and maybe he won’t ever touch you again—

He places his palm on your chest, right over your heart. “Breathe,” he says again. Soft. Quiet. “In then out. Good girl, just like that.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Mimic his inhales and exhales until the two of you fall into a synchronized rhythm.

“Good,” he says again, rubbing his other hand along your back. “There you go. You’re all right, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Weakly, you nod. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I—”

“Shh.” He kisses your nose. “You’re okay, Tink. I know.”

A long moment passes before you finally feel in control of your own heart again and once you blink the fog from your eye, you see him. Delicate and strong at the same time.

He sweeps his thumb along your lip. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “Really, I just…I needed to feel you. And I wanted to…move on, I guess. Think about something else. Lose myself for a bit.”

He sighs but nods his understanding. “You could have told me that.”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to sharing things with you.”

“I know,” he echoes with a small grin. “But we’ll learn, yeah?”

Your gaze grows suspicious. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” he says simply. “If we’re gonna make a bunch of hot, smart babies one day, we’re gonna have to communicate.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while.”

“Fine. Just gives us more time to practice.”

Your eyes narrow. “You really have gone soft on me, haven’t you? All because you thought I was pregnant."

He laughs, fingers slipping around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. “I’d argue I’m actually quite hard right now.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I can hate you and like you at the same time, right?” he teases. “Because I think that’s my sweet spot. Wanting to kill you and fuck you all at once.”

“Agreed. You’re insufferable but you’re also one of my favorite people. Which only makes you more insufferable.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think we earned a little civility, no?”

You nod and take his lip between your teeth. “And I think we should celebrate with an orgasm.”

He laughs again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

You dance your kisses down his chest, enjoying the way his head drops back while he sighs at the feel of your tongue. He’s so beautiful and so good and if you’re going to lose yourself, you want to lose yourself in him.

Leaning back, brace your hands behind you on his knees, and start to bounce yourself on his cock. Over and over, faster and faster, until he’s grabbing onto your hips and giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze to help you along.

Your tits bounce right in his face, and he takes advantage of his front row seat, allowing his hands to trace and tease your nipples as you whine. He sucks them into his mouth and pulls them with his teeth. It sends chills along your spine and goosebumps along your arms and when he notices, he smirks.

Not even a minute later, he’s pulling you down so your chest meets his. His hands land on your ass with a firm grip and he drags you along his cock. Slow and sensual until your eyes flutter shut, and you disappear into the building pleasure.

You feel his kisses on your ribcage as he begins to thrust up into you. Returning to the pace you previously set until you’re both chasing that familiar high.

“There you go,” he praises through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that—”

“Harry,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shit, please—”

“I know.” He leaves another kiss to the inside of your arm before he smacks your left ass cheek. “I got you, Princess. S’okay. Keep going.”

You grind yourself over his lap, knees hugging his waist as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Needy. Anxious. You match each other’s rhythm and it’s a dance. An effortless fluidity that brings you closer than ever before.

Then, he sucks two fingers into your mouth, and moves them between your cheeks. He grazes them over your tighter hole, gently teasing them over the other entrance before dropping them down to where his cock is fucking into your cunt. He plays with you a bit, pushing you just a bit closer while you wail—depraved—and beg for more.

“My good girl,” he praises. He spanks you again. “Fuck—that’s it, baby.”

Your staccato whimpers are consistent now. One for every thrust and you can almost taste his desperation as he turns his head in order to kiss your cheek. The sound of skin against skin is crude and delicious. The way your body slides against his. Like butter on a hot day, melting together.

He goes faster, pulls you harder. Fingers digging into your skin so hard it almost hurts. But in the best possible way. In turn, you brace yourself with a palm on his throat. Squeezing it tight as you start to get closer.

“Yeah,” he groans. “Shit…harder—”

You obey, pinching the sides of his neck until his eyes roll back.

You can feel his heart racing against yours. You’re both warm. Hot. Shaking. A tangled mess of limps and depraved grinding like animals in heat.

“M’almost…m’almost there,” you whisper.

He nods, looking down your body to watch the way your ass bounces in his hands. “Go. S’okay, go. Let me feel you.”

He leaves more kisses to your side and the tender way his lips feel against your skin makes your brain go fuzzy.

You grip his throat a bit tighter and just like that…it’s over.

The two of you cum together, the room filling with moans and gasps and promises. He settles beneath you while you ride out the rest of your high but he makes sure to keep his arm around you through every second.

Once you finally catch your breath, he hums. “God-fucking-damn.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He turns to see you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

You roll your eyes with a swat to his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you still like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I’m your favorite person.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“Right.” He helps you ease him out before he’s flipping you around and moving himself between your legs.

You blink. “What the hell are you doing?”

He lifts two fingers and eases them along your swollen pussy. Collecting the white, sticky substance already leaking out before easily pushing it back in.

“Harry,” you scold. “I think we’ve had enough breeding for one day.”

He smirks. “Relax, Tink, m’not breeding you. I just…like to see it drip out.”

Your heart leaps. “…oh.”

“Yeah.” He rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh in order to watch. “S’always so fucking pretty.”

You reach down and card your fingers through his sweaty curls. Happy and content for the first time in days.

He looks up. “One day,” he promises, even though it sounds more like a question.

But somehow, in this moment, it makes everything else worth it.

You grin.

“One day.”

AAA I can’t believe we finally did it!! I’m not gonna lie them being soft with each other is gross 😭 BUT ALSO CUTE!! YAY PROGRESS!!

Thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice!! 🥹💞💞 and of course thank you for the amazing idea hehe

Also, if you see any mistakes……no you don’t 🫶

~ Full 404 Masterlist

Taglist:

@littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@babyyhoneyyy @swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

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kazutteoks · 2 months ago

Text

GO FOR IT! 𝜗𝜚 ; masterlist

the one were heeseung and you have been rivals since you started hogwarts, and only takes one event that will turn your world upside down to realize what heeseung's presence in your life truly means for you. you have to do something! you just have to go for it!

pairing: ravenclaw prefect!lee heeseung x ravenclaw prefect f!reader

content: harry potter au , social media au , written parts , rivals to friends to lovers , bickering , friendly rivalry , (something i consider)humor , a tiny bit of angst (school pressure, expectations, fear of failure, yk typical of ravenclaws) , drama lots of drama , peeves mentioned (a lot) , heeseung is a great emotional support , reader is called snow for funsies , reader last name is ashbourne , heeseung is down bad but he knows how to hide it very well , tbh it's just heeseung and reader babysitting the ravenclaws and their friends while preparing to be head boy and head girl of hogwarts , but actually there's a plot , eventually reader is so down bad (as she should) , he fell first but she fell painfully harder , and that's it, that's all.

featuring: the rest of enhypen, bts jungkook and taehyung, nct 127 doyoung, johnny and yuta, ateez seonghwa, yunho, yeosang and san, njz hyein, boynextdoor taesan, txt soobin and beomgyu, p1harmony keeho, zerobaseone gyuvin, hanbin and yujin, riize anton, ive wonyoung, aespa karina, illit yunah and wonhee.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ - read more undercut! ˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ ₊

warnings: this is the beginning of a series i've decided to call enha-gwarts (so original i love myself sm /pat pat), timestamps and dates are not relevant so please ignore it, minecraft references cz ima freak, lots of harry potter world references, lots of swearing, mention of insecurities, anxiety, self-sabotaging thoughts, kms/kys jokes, threat jokes(?, daddy issues jokes idk, modern hogwarts, nothing has really sense i swear it's not that deep believe me (😔🙏🏻), english is NOT my first language, I'm still learning, please excuse any mistakes or nonsenses! lmk if i miss something!

updates: monday , thursday , saturday

start date: 2025/04/19

end date: tba!

༺ ⚝ ; taglist is open!

a/n: lately i've been reading a lot of enhypen hp!au, and after rewatching the harry potter saga last week i really needed to make my own, hope everyone likes my little baby.💗

PROFILES:

0A. purebloods and daddy issues

0B. hogwarts boyband

0C. ravenclaw coven

0D. sides

CHAPTERS:

1. yuta's favourite student

2. i am a supporter

3. you can laugh, but you will cry

4. you were what

4.1 the sleeping charm incident

5. first hw with....

6. oh...

7. you two need to talk

8. coven meeting

9. kicking my feet, twirling my hair

10. come get your brat kid

11. pookie is missing

12. and the drama begins

12.1 worry about it later

13. winter break is over

14. idk what's wrong with me

15. you just have to believe in yourself

16. calm before the storm

17. you think?

18. year is over and we're still the same (1.09k wc)

19. literally flabbergasted

20. the storm (0.5k wc)

21. i failed

22. life looks different from here

23. something weird

24. it's time

25. we're here to help

26. three times i really noticed you before i realized (3.9k wc)

27. first things first

28. take what belongs to u (5.32k wc)

29. muggle date

30. our tradition

31. fulltime professors, midtime cupids

32.

33.

34.

35.

mtba!

❗ this is a work of mere fiction, the characters attitudes do not reflect at all the artist's personality here mentioned

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cacoetheswriting · 3 months ago

Text

right where you left me. (the masterlist)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) total word count: 39,640

summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only it’s not really as it’s been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.

content warnings: friends-to-enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, angsty, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / comfort, use of pet names, eddie is a bit of an asshole, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, discusses sobriety, and also touches on topics of: unrequited love, divorce, death, grief, toxic relationships, mental health, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle? — pls read the cw's for each chapter and let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

a/n: the following are some songs i think they fit perfectly with their story, so i wanted to share them with you.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

main masterlist

#right where you left me.#currently workshopping around 5/6 chapters eeek #it’s become a labour of love:#so i do hope you enjoy it.#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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makeyuomine · 25 days ago

Text

the graduate

Summary: It’s your graduation day and Harry can’t wait to celebrate you.

Photo Credits: Pinterest: Diploma, Flowers/Grad Cap

Author’s Note: congratulations to all my graduates!! this one’s for yall

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Today was my day, and Harry hadn’t stopped smiling since morning.

He kept it simple—crisp white shirt, a few buttons undone like always, and black slacks. Effortless. Perfect. He stood in the crowd, phone in hand, camera-ready—except this time the focus was on me.

“Congratulations, baby,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

I smiled, adjusting the edge of my cap. My gown floated around the white dress I’d picked weeks ago, but the way he was looking at me made it feel brand new. I looked behind him, looking for the rest of my friends and family.

They were still tucked into rows of folding chairs, watching it all unfold. Harry had broken away from the crowd and hurried toward me, determined to be the first to congratulate me, even though he’d already done so this morning. The memory kept replaying in my mind, distracting me while the commencement speakers droned on.

“You look radiant,” he said, eyes trailing over me with that soft, familiar gaze. I had unzipped my graduation gown, letting the front fall open to reveal the white dress underneath—simple, but meaningful. Gold jewelry caught the light, and around my neck hung the “S” necklace Harry gave me on our anniversary. I wore it today so a piece of him could be with me as I walked the stage.

Alongside my closest friends and family, he was one of my biggest pillars of support throughout university. Looking back, it all feels like a blur—late nights, long papers, quiet breakdowns, and unexpected joys. I can’t believe that chapter of my life was already over.

By now, everyone had gathered around—my closest friends and immediate family, all beaming with pride as they took turns congratulating me. We posed for photos, both group shots and sweet little moments captured one-on-one.

It was sweet watching Harry chat with my parents while I snapped photos with my friends—his eyes still finding mine whenever they could. I couldn’t help but think back to the night I first introduced him to my parents, both of us a bundle of nerves. And now, here we were—all together, easy and familiar.

“Gorgeous!” Harry called out from a few feet away as my friends snapped solo shots of me in my cap, gown, and fresh bouquet in hand. The flowers he had given me were stunning: soft pink blooms wrapped in delicate beige paper, elegant and understated, just like he knew I’d love. I held them close, their petals almost as gentle as the way he looked at me.

I felt my cheeks heat up at his voice—warm and teasing—and caught his eyes sparkling with pride.

I couldn’t help but blush, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I smiled shyly. He was making me feel like the only person in the world. Then, with that familiar mischievous grin, he called, “My turn.”

Before I could say anything, he strode over and slipped his arm around my waist. “Let’s get some shots of us,” he said softly, his breath warm against my skin. The scent of his cologne—fresh, woodsy, and unmistakably his—washed over me, making my heart race.

As the camera paused, Harry leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice low and full of something I could feel deep in my chest.

I looked up at him, my body on fire. He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear, then added softly, “I can’t wait to be alone with you tonight and celebrate you properly.”

I playfully slapped his arm, laughing softly.

He just grinned, eyes sparkling with that same teasing glint. “I'm serious,” he said, pulling me closer. “But don’t worry—I’ll behave… for now.”

After an hour filled with photos and laughter, we said our goodbyes, promising to reunite in the evening for my graduation party. After that, however, was all about Harry and me—just the way he wanted it.

Thinking about all of this had put me on cloud nine. I couldn't express just how amazing I felt.

I was so proud of myself.

I thought about all the early mornings, the late nights hunched over textbooks, the doubts that whispered I wasn’t good enough. I remembered the times I wanted to give up, the moments when the weight of it all felt unbearable. But here I was—cap and gown, loving boyfriend by my side, with diploma in hand.

The hum of the engine filled the car as we drove away from the crowd, the city lights blurring past the windows. I sat in the passenger seat, still holding my bouquet. I was trying to steady the fluttering in my chest.

Harry’s right hand found its way to my thigh. I could feel the tension beneath his touch, the way his fingers clenched just slightly.

He glanced over at me, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely showed. “I just… I want tonight to be perfect. Not just the party, but us.”

My chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice. He had this way of putting everyone and everything ahead of himself. I knew how much he wanted this graduation party to be perfect—for me. He always cared so deeply about doing things right, especially when it mattered most.

I reached out, covering his hand with mine, squeezing gently.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm so thankful for you, baby. I already know this party is going to be great."

And the party was more than great—it was the best fucking time. Harry had thought of every detail, from the perfect playlist to the fairy lights twinkling just right, and even the little snacks I loved.

I’d been caught up in the crowd, dancing with my friends and fellow graduates, the thrill of the night making my head spin in the best way.

Through it all, my eyes kept finding his.

Harry was there—chatting with a group of people, watching me with that quiet, intense gaze. Even from across the room, I could feel his attention like a steady pulse, grounding me amid the dizzying energy.

I was definitely feeling tipsy now, my cheeks flushed and movements a little looser than usual. I think Harry notices because I see him begin to walk across the room directly to me.

Without a word, he slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me gently close. His eyes searched mine, slight concern mingling with something tender.

"How you feeling, baby?"

"I'm plastered."

He laughed at the word.

He leaned in close, his voice rising just enough to reach my ear over the booming music. “Let me take care of you.”

Although I mostly felt fine, it was comforting to see Harry so focused on looking after me—his care twisting my stomach into nervous knots.

"I'm taking her to my room to rest for a bit," he told my friends.

Draping his arm around my shoulders securely, he gently guided me toward his room.

Every step felt deliberate, and God, it was intoxicating.

There was something about the way he moved with quiet confidence, the kind of strength that didn’t need to be shouted out loud.

"You're so handsome when you take care of me," I say honestly.

He chuckles as he gently places me on his bed.

"Stay put for a few, then get back out there. I'm getting you water," he said as he began to walk off.

I quickly reach for his hand to stop him.

"I don't want water," I lowly say. "I want you."

And I did. I was so turned on by how safe I felt with him, knowing how much effort he had put into my graduation party, knowing how genuinely proud he was of my accomplishment.

I needed him now.

"Baby..."

"Please," I whispered as I reached for the back of his neck and pulled him to me.

I kiss him as he crouches over me, slightly off balance from me pulling him.

"Thank you for today," I say in between kisses.

"You deserve it all," he breathed out.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

#harry edward styles #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles

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ugly-bug-starscream · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I love this AU sooooooo much and ended up writing this little fic at like 3 AM about the dads' first encounter with baby superion lol. I might make a couple more chapters and/or post it to ao3 later but this is what i have for now. I don't know if everything in here would line up with your planned story but i gave it my best shot!

also i gave superion they/them pronouns in this for no other reason than "i felt like it"

enjoy! :)

-Anonymous Corvid

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"CONTACT"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Superion had never really been before, so it was rather a shock when they suddenly realized that they were.

Their smaller-selves’ sensory networks all briefly flickered in a panic, each trying to process the incoming information from one another. Thankfully, it took mere nanokliks for them to even out, allowing Superion to online their optics for the first time and look around and think for the first time.

And think they did: What were they? Why were they? They had memories of being small and many, but now they were one and vast and the world around them was so much more fragile.

The soldiers around them were practically the size of toys, and even the Decepticon warship in the air above didn’t look to be that much bigger than Superion themself.

It all began to slowly come back to them as they noted the blades of grass between their fingers [So soft and fluffy, the part of Superion that was Fireflight hummed]. That was right; they’d snuck onto the surface and followed their Creator's research team because they’d wanted to see the kinds of things their Creator was studying. It had all been going well, but then…

…then the Decepticons had come. With a warship and full intent to wipe their Creator’s surface research team off of the map. The Aerialbots had had no choice but to reveal themselves when their hiding place was destroyed, and after that, everything had gone to the Pit.

[The part of Superion that was Slingshot shuddered as they recalled trying to fly away, only to be knocked out of the air by a stray laser blast to the wing.] Their smaller-selves had all gathered around their downed brother to try and protect him, but this had backfired horribly. From so high above the ground, the warship did not see a group of frightened children, but rather a group of concentrated targets. It had targeted them automatically with the massive beam cannon located on its front.

They should have all died the moment the cannon fired. So how…?

Oh.

Creator. Their Creator had put himself between them and the blast.

Skyfire was someone all of their smaller-selves remembered having to crane their neck up towards if they wanted to look him in the optics, but as Superion they dwarfed him—not helped by the fact he was still sprawled out on the ground after being struck by the warship’s massive beam cannon. The shuttle’s heat-shielding was desiged to survive atmospheric re-entry. It had saved him from being killed outright, but a chunk of his right wing was missing, and most of his armor was burned and blackened.

[All repairable injuries if he can get to a medic soon, but he’d be completely grounded until then, the part of Superion that was Skydive noted.]

Watching their Creator struggle to try and rise to his knees, Superion knew he would not be able get out of the way in time to avoid the next blast—and that one would kill him.

Their Creator’s conjunx was continuing to harry the warship from the air. [He’d returned so recently that it still felt strange to call Starscream a Creator, the part of them that was Silverbolt thought.] He tried to draw the ship's attention long enough for Skyfire to escape, but to no avail.

Finally, Superion remembered: they’d come into being with a purpose, one that blared in their mind loudly: protect.

With a wordless screech, Superion rose from behind their Creator and moved.

They couldn’t quite walk; walking implied a level of coordination between their body parts’ minds that Superion didn’t possess. No, the motion was more of a wild, feral scramble on their hands and knees, crawling and leaping and dragging themselves towards the ship. They carved deep tracks into the earth as they flung themselves between their creators and the warship with startling speed.

[The part of Superion that was Air Raid recalled how Starscream had taught him to defend himself—namely, how to fight dirty.] With both servos, they grabbed onto the exposed end of the cannon and crushed it as if they were trying to snap someone’s neck. The firing sequence had already begun, though, and the energy within exploded inside of the cannon, nearly tearing the ship in half.

Superion didn’t stop there, though. As long as it remained in the air, the contraption was a threat. So they kept going—ripping and tearing and ripping and tearing and ripping and tearing and—

They did not know how long they spent clawing at what was now essentially a pile of scrap metal on the ground—only that at some point, they realized there wasn’t anything substantial enough left to tear apart. They looked up from where they’d previously been on their hands and knees in a trance, cycling their optics a few times as they realized that everyone was staring at them.

Both sides had paused in their fighting to gape at Superion. Even the bots that their smaller-selves knew personally seemed to be frozen in a mix of awe and terror.

Superion let out a panicked whimper as they realized that everyone was afraid of them. They brought up a servo to hide their face, wishing they could shrink down and disappear and never be seen again. Creator didn’t want Superion. He was scared of them. They were a monster and nobody would want a monster for a child.

They shuddered ever so slightly when a loud thud echoed from somewhere nearby. They uncovered their visor to see their Creator standing shakily, supported by Starscream. At some point during the chaos, it seemed like Ratchet had been able to weld the worst of his injuries shut, but he was still in rough shape.

What really stuck out, however, is the horrified expression in his optics.

“Damn it, Sky! This isn’t the Iacon 5000, you need to take it slow or you’re going to tear those welds right open.”

“Our childrenare in distress, Star. I am not going to take anything slow until I’m sure they’re—oof!" A heavy thud resounded as Skyfire attempted to run and almost immediately pitched forward, falling to one knee.

“See? You’re in no shape to be running. We’re not going to lose track of a combiner the size of a small building in the thirty nanoklicks it’ll take to get over there; now quit being such a self-sacrificing moron and walk slowly.”

They were getting closer…Oh Primus. They hid their face again, because Creator was coming and he was scared of them and mad at them and he hated them and he was going to throw them away they’d be exiled they’d be—

Superion only notices the tiny, strangled noises of distress coming from their vocalizer when their Creator’s hand comes to rest gently against their knee.

Their fields brush against each other, and where Superion expects to feel [fear-anger-hurt] there’s instead a gentle push of [calm-safe-protect], underpinned by [worry-concern-love].

…Oh.

It finally dawned on them.

Their Creator and his conjunx were not afraid of Superion; they were afraid for them and their smaller-selves.

Superion tried to ignore the fact that something was leaking out from beneath their visor and listen to their Creator as he spoke, offering them a tired smile.

“Hello there. I don’t think we’ve met before, even though…well, it seems I created you. Do you have a name?”

Superion tried a few times to speak, but they couldn’t quite articulate anything in this form. It all came out as a jumble of static and random syllables.

“Oh, dear…maybe writing would be easier?”

They perked up a little at that, shoving a finger into the nearby dirt. Their “handwriting” was uncoordinated and a bit sloppy in much the same way as their ability to move, but they managed to scratch out their name in the ground.

“…Superion. That’s a good name. I wish it could be under better circumstances, but…welcome to the family.” The shuttle gives him a big hug, before suddenly narrowing his eyes.

“…also, you’re grounded for a week after this stunt.”

Superion’s audial horns dip down as all of their smaller-selves internally grumbled in unison.

“Don’t give me that look! You nearly got yourself killed and you scared us halfway to death.”

“Uh…how are we even going to enforce that?” Starscream piped up. “I’m—I’m not sure they’ll fit in the house, even if everything’s sized with you in mind.”

“…Good question. That’s...a problem for future us, I think…” Skyfire shuttered his optics and sagged to the ground, unable to hold himself upright anymore even with his conjunx’s support. Starscream sighed and glanced up at Superion.

“You’re also carrying this big lug home.”

when I tell you I’ve been reading this over and over since last night AAAHHGHSH IM OBSESSED WITH THISDV IM GONNA CRYYISHSH

SUPERION BABY YOU ARE EVERYTHINH… AND YOUR DADS LOVE YOUUUUUU

if you consider making more i will be first in line!!! THIS IS SO GOOD THANK YOU SO MUCH.. IT MADE MY NIGHT

#I’m drawing for this hold on-#made me almost cry it’s so wonderful #this is everything to me #maccadam #transformers #transformers one #transformers one au #aerialbots #transformers superion #skyfire #starscream #skystar #ask

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sogoodtoheritsvicious · 4 months ago

Text

i haven’t come around in so long, but i’m coming back so strong

summary: after some convincing from your girls and a conversation with harry, you decide to make your much anticipated return to the paddock. naturally, drama follows.

vicious speaks: this chapter is all about race weekend, baby!

series masterlist

───────── ❤︎ ─────────

yourusername has added to their stories

replies

fan1 MOTHER

fan2 I USED TO PRAY FOR THIS

fan3 the way you look at harry 🥹💕

fan4 PLEASE TELL ME THIS MEANS YOUR COMING TO THE RACE

yourbff gonna be so much fun 💕

annetwist can’t wait to see you two ❤️

⤷ yourusername same here 🫶🏼

fan5 let grab a snack in case something happens

oscarpiastri gonna be epic 🤪

⤷ yourusername the emoji is sending me

⤷ oscarpiastri it felt right

fan6 all the races in the world and you had to choose the one most important to lando. obsessed much?

ynharrysthird i'm never wrong

fan7 stay away from lando attention seeker

───────── ❤︎ ─────────

982,273 likes

lando let’s get it 🏎️

view all comments

fan1 HOME RACE, BABY 🇬🇧

fan2 cheering you on from home!!

fan3 LETS GOOOO

fan4 don’t let that bitch being at the race distract you!! you got this 💋 ♥︎ by author

fan5 uhhh we all saw that like right?

⤷ fan6 yup

⤷ fan7 he’s pathetic

fan8 jealousy is a disease

fan9 yn has handled everything with such class. sad you can’t say the same.

fan10 rooting for you! to lose.

fan11 let my man be petty if he feels like it! ♥︎ by author

fan12 you’re such a weirdo

fan13 omg you guys need to calm down, they didn’t even say yns name and you’re out here assuming

⤷ fan14 they didn’t have be to mention her by name, she’s the only one who recently hinted at attending the race

fan15 bro still isn’t over his break up that happened more than a year ago 😂

fan16 free my girl yn! she didn’t do anything wrong, her ex is just obsessed with her

fan17 stay stay stay the fuck away from yn and harry

*comments on this post have been limited*

───────── ❤︎ ─────────

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and others

harrystyles team dinner 🍽️

view all comments

fan lmao harry said “we’re good over here!”

yourusername 🖤🤍🖤🤍

⤷ harrystyles ♥️

fan2 if “i took your girl and your friends” was an instagram post

yourbff the best time with the best people ♥︎ by author

fan3 the way she looks at you…GOD 🥹🫶🏼

maxverstappen1 team dinners are now mandatory for every race week

⤷ charles_leclerc yourusername harrystyles the catch is that you have to attend every single one

⤷ harrystyles i’m down

⤷ yourusername what the hell sure 👍 quitting our jobs to just follow you guys around sounds good to me

⤷ oscarpiastri it’s all going according to plan 😏

⤷ yourusername pls

lewishamilton best way to enter a race week 🍷♥︎ by author

fan4 “team dinner” yet lando is nowhere to be found 🙄

⤷ fan5 are you being serious? he cheated on yn, shaded her and harry on twitter, and liked a comment today that was calling her a bitch. why the fuck would he be invited?

fan6 the caption might as well be “fuck lando norris” 😭😭

lilymhe so glad you guys are here to experience this with us 🥰 ♥︎ by author

francolopinto nice hanging out with you again, man 🤘🏼

⤷ harrystyles you too, mate! we gotta have a guys trip soon ✈️

⤷ francolopinto yourusername your boyfriend is so cool

⤷ charles_leclerc ^

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux ^

⤷ oscarpiastri ^

⤷ lewishamilton ^

⤷ lilymhe ^

⤷ alexa_lbon ^

⤷ maxverstappen1 ^

⤷ danielricciardo ^

⤷ yourbff ^

⤷ carlossainz55 ^

⤷ yourusername 😭😭

⤷ fan7 oh harry you are so loved 🫂

fan8 i just know this post is killing that man

⤷ fan9 omg stop making everything about lando

⤷ fan10 *lando* makes everything about lando. we just react accordingly.

ynharrysthird me seeing the 1st slide: 🥰 me seeing the last slide: 😵‍💫 ♥︎ by yourusername

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yourusername has added to their stories

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ferrari ❤️

fan THE DAY HAS COME 🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥

alexandrasaintmleux the paddock isn’t readyyyy ♥︎ by author

fan2 can’t wait to see what you’re wearing!!

gemmastyles have fun!! ♥︎ by author

f1wags welcome back, paddock princess 💖 it’s been boring without you

yourbff so! excited!

⤷ yourusername SAME

fan3 still can’t believe you’re back 🥹

itsaria have so much fun!! and remember, if that muppet comes anywhere near you, RUN. or let harry lose on him 🤷🏼‍♀️ just ft me first so i can watch it happen

⤷ yourusername lmaooo ur ridiculous 😭😭

harrystyles can’t wait to experience this with you ❤️

⤷ yourusername same here 🫶🏼

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yourusername has added to their stories

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alexandrasaintmleux oop! 🤭

⤷ yourusername 🤭

fan oh so you’ve definitely seen the interview

itsaria CLEARED ♥︎ by author

fan3 not you bringing out the taylor lyrics 😭 it’s so over for him

gemmastyles just say the word and i’ll make him regret ever being born

⤷ yourusername omg 😭💕

oscarpiastri subtle shade isn’t enough, you need to let me kill him

⤷ yourusername dkfjfhks love u 🫶🏼

⤷ oscarpiastri love you too 🧡

ynharrysthird end his ass!

francisca.cgomes had to talk pierre out of confronting lando after that interview even though i didn’t want to

⤷ yourusername omg lmao i love you guys 💓💓💓

⤷ francisca.cgomes you know we love you 💞

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liked by harrystyles, itsaria, and others

yourusername camera crumbs: race weekend edition ♥️

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harrystyles third slide 😍

⤷ yourusername 💋

⤷ oscarpiastri they’re being gross again 🫠

⤷ yourusername oh calm down, this is so tame

⤷ oscarpiastri trust me i know, i’ve caught a glimpse at your texts before

⤷ fan HELLO? 😭😭

ynharrysthird such an iconic weekend 🔥 ♥︎ by author

annetwist looks like fun!!

⤷ yourusername omg you and gemmastyles should come with me to a race!!

⤷ gemmastyles just say when!

⤷ fan2 a trio i didn’t know i needed to see at a race until right now

mclaren betrayal 💔

⤷ yourusername IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE

⤷ ferrari isn’t it, though? she’s our girl now

⤷ mclaren blocked.

⤷ fan3 not ferrari being messy 😭

oscarpiastri can’t believe i didn’t make the post

⤷ yourusername didn’t fit my aesthetic, sorry

⤷ oscarpiastri woooow

lilymhe so much funnnn ♥︎ by author

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harrystyles camera crumbs: vacation edition ☀️

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yourusername 💛

⤷ harrystyles 💛

fan daisy in the 2nd and 4th slide 🥹🥹

annetwist my darlings ❤️ missing you already ♥︎ by author and yourusername

fan2 this post is sooo daylight coded 🥰

ynharrysthird the matching captions <3 <3 <3

alexandrasaintmleux wifey looks so good in the last slide 😍

⤷ harrystyles she’s literally my girlfriend?

⤷ yourusername don’t listen to him, ur the only one for me 😚

⤷ harrystyles charles_leclerc they’re doing it again

⤷ charles_leclerc just accept defeat. i have.

⤷ fan3 crying real tears

gemmastyles already miss yn and daisy so much ❤️‍🩹

⤷ harrystyles what about me?

⤷ gemmastyles eh

⤷ harrystyles ☹️

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@pansexualdarling @mx13sworld @willowpains @nebarious @daemyratwst @hi26loveie @angelluv16 @ggaslyp1 @kikiki81 @eugene-emt-roe @nichmeddar @callsignwidow @harryssunflower17 @lomlolivia @isinpfortvdmen @yourlocalstilinski-valdez @hshp98 @l0nelyhe4rts-club @roc-haze @this-is-tiny-mia @harryzcherry @theekyliepage @maudie-duan @waywardsestras @tulips4harry @stylesmoonlight12

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this-is-tiny-mia · 4 days ago

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Do you believe in fate? | Chapter 1

General Masterlist famous!Harry x fem!reader / flowershopowner!reader

Summary: After losing his wife, Harry struggles to navigate his grief, An encounter with Y/N, a kind florist, who shares the same experience.

A/n: Hello, everyone! I’d like to welcome you to this new series. I want to give credit to @harrys-baby —I stumbled upon her page. She’s a bot creator, and one of her openings (I think that’s what it’s called?) caught my attention. I asked for her permission to turn it into a story 🥰. If you’d like, you can check out her bot page!

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Angst, A slightly rude Harry—he’s just mad at life. Mentions of loss and grief.

“Yes, Mum. I just got to the flower shop I told you about. I’ll head to the cemetery as soon as I buy them.”

Harry stepped into the quiet shop, his phone pressed to his ear. A sigh escaped his lips as the soft jingle of the door faded behind him. A long black coat wrapped around his tall frame, his sunglasses still on despite the overcast London sky. He hadn’t realized he was still wearing them—he’d left in a rush.

Today wasn’t easy. It never was.

It was July 25th, 2024—two years since Sophia had died. Two years since his world had shattered.

They’d only been married for a year. Breast cancer had stolen her away fast—too fast. He’d tried to fight time, to pause the tour, to be there—but she’d insisted he finish what he’d started. He listened. And then he lost her.

Harry spent the first year after her death shut inside their home. Curtains drawn. Photos of her scattered across their bed. His guitar untouched. Bottles piling up more than notes written. The world moved on—he didn’t. Therapy helped, eventually. So did silence. And now, slowly, painfully, Harry was returning to life. He wasn’t healed. But he was showing up.

He couldn’t write music yet. But he could walk. He could feel the sun. He could buy the lilies Sophia loved.

On the other end of the call, his mum was reminding him, “White lilies, Harry. You know those were her favorite.”

He barely nodded when a soft voice broke through the silence of the shop.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

It startled him.

He turned—and there you were. A stranger. Calm. Kind-eyed. Something about you made the world pause.

“Are you looking for something specific? Or maybe a bouquet?” you asked again, offering a smile. You knew immediately who he was: Harry Styles. Your sister, a college student, often wondered when he’d return to music. But you weren’t much of a fan—not because you disliked his music, but because you simply didn’t follow much outside of flowers. You were a bit of a nerd that way.

“I’m... I’m looking for lilies,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Of course! Right this way…” you said, leading him to the lilies. “We have pink, orange, and white, or I can make a mix,” you offered.

“White. Only white, please. In a bouquet. Maybe some foliage?” he replied.

“Foliage it is,” you said with a smile. Selecting about twelve white lilies, you moved to another section to pick out foliage. You worked with care, knowing not all foliage paired well with lilies. They were big, open, expressive flowers, so you chose discreet, delicate greenery—small but perfectly complementary.

“I’ll wrap the bouquet over here and ring you up,” you said, walking back to the payment area. He followed silently.

These days were hard for him—hard to breathe, hard to talk, hard to feel safe. But something about your energy calmed him.

You grabbed a piece of branded paper, its subtle pattern adding charm. Your hands moved with practiced precision, as though you could do this in your sleep. A snip here, a tie there. You adjusted a slightly wonky bloom, turned the bouquet, and ensured the heights were balanced. It was clear to anyone watching: you were doing what you were meant to do.

“Like it?” you asked with a smile, your radiant personality shining through as always. You noticed he seemed off, but maybe you thought he was just a very serious guy.

“Perfect,” he replied, his gaze fixed on the flowers.

“Do you want a card?” you asked, flipping through your price book.

“Um… sure…” he said, not giving it much thought.

“Do you want to write a message, or should I?” you offered, glancing back at him.

“Yeah… a message…” he hesitated. His mind was elsewhere.

You grabbed a pen and a card, leaning on the counter for support, then looked at him expectantly.

“Rest in Love, forever yours — H,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on the last word.

That’s when it hit you. You suddenly remembered your sister’s endless chatter about him—how he hadn’t released new music in two years, and how she understood, knowing he’d lost his wife. A knot formed in your throat. Your steady hands felt clammy, and you quickly wiped them on your apron before writing the message.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced back at him. His expression was unreadable, the same stoic mask as before.

“I’m sorry…” you said softly. Was that rude? Nosy? Maybe. But you had your reasons.

And you had a promise to keep.

Placing the bouquet and card in front of him, you said, “It’s on the house.”

He frowned, confusion and irritation flashing across his face. “I don’t need pity. I need to pay for this bouquet,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He’d had enough pity to last a lifetime.

“Sorry, yes…” you said, feeling a bit embarrassed. You’d had clients like this before, so you knew another way to keep your promise if things went south. Glancing at the iPad, you tapped your way to the final screen. “It’s 34 pounds,” you said softly, your previously confident demeanor now replaced with a shy and anxious one.

“You should mind your own business,” he said, tapping his card.

It wasn’t like him to snap, especially not at a stranger, let alone a woman. But today? Today was different. He knew he could react poorly, even unfairly, and he didn’t care.

“Yes, sir,” you replied almost instantly, your voice small as the room seemed to close in on you. “We’re just… considerate with loss.”

“Loss? Bet you don’t know a thing about loss,” he shot back, his tone cutting.

Your breath hitched. His words struck deep, and you looked up at him, frowning, your eyes narrowing. Anger flickered in you—a rare emotion, very rare in you, but he’d managed to hit the one nerve that could ignite it.

“You’re right,” you snapped, your voice trembling. “What do I know about loss? Maybe you should ask my dead fiancè about it.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy.

You both froze, staring at each other. Neither of you was acting like yourselves—this was pain speaking, raw and unfiltered. The kind of pain that left no room for kindness.

The silence stretched, time seeming to stop, until he closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry… I…” He trailed off, his words faltering as he realized just how cruel he’d been to someone who clearly didn’t deserve it.

“As you said… I don’t need pity,” you replied, looking away to avoid letting your tears fall.

“Of course… I said that…” he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. “Thanks,” he added, taking the bouquet without another word and walking out in silence.

The door jingled softly as he left, and you stood frozen behind the counter, staring at the bouquet paper scraps and ribbon remnants on your workbench. You hadn’t meant to snap, but he’d pushed you to the edge—an edge you rarely let anyone see.

With a shaky breath, you turned away from the counter, leaning against the wall as the weight of the interaction hit you. Your chest felt tight, and your hands gripped your apron to steady yourself. Loss. It was such a fragile, devastating thing, and yet today it had been thrown around like a weapon.

A muffled gasp escaped your lips, and you quickly wiped at your eyes. Not here. Not now.

Outside, Harry walked briskly, bouquet clutched in his hand. The lilies were beautiful—too beautiful for the anger he felt. He stopped at the corner, glancing down at the flowers. What’s wrong with you? he thought. He’d seen enough of life to know pain took many forms. He hadn’t needed to lash out at someone trying to be kind. His hand tightened on the bouquet.

But what could he do now? He wasn’t great at apologies—never had been. His words always fell short. Turning around, he debated going back inside, but a lingering sense of shame kept his feet planted on the pavement.

Inside, you finally steadied yourself, your hand reaching for a bottle of water under the counter. As you took a sip, the door jingled again.

Your head snapped up, and there he was—standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“I…” he started, his voice softer now. He took a hesitant step forward, holding the bouquet awkwardly in his hand. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. The anger you’d felt earlier was already fading, replaced by the awkwardness of the moment.

He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the bouquet as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded. “I don’t have an excuse. I’m sorry.”

You hesitated, the lump in your throat returning. “It’s okay,” you said quietly, though your voice wavered. “We all have bad days.”

He nodded, his hand brushing through his hair. “This is… a bad day for me.”

“I figured,” you replied, offering a faint smile. “Loss has a way of making every day harder than the last.”

His eyes met yours, something unspoken passing between you—a shared understanding of grief, raw and unpolished.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry if I brought up anything painful for you.”

“I’m sorry if I brought up anything painful too”

Neither of you said anything more, but as he turned to leave again, something in the air felt lighter. And when the door jingled shut, you didn’t feel quite so small in your shop anymore.

🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻

A few days later, after the strange tightness in your chest had finally faded, you were busy doing inventory. You were organizing supplies, preparing to place flower orders for the upcoming week, and trying to keep everything running smoothly. Claire was there with you—your rock during tough times.

You’d met her a few years ago at a crafting convention, and she’d known Alex before he passed away. When grief had threatened to overwhelm you, Claire had stepped in, making sure the flower shop stayed afloat while you found your footing again.

“I’ll take this to the back,” she said, picking up a large bag filled with dead flowers and other organic waste that needed to be disposed of.

“Sure,” you replied softly, focused on your clipboard.

The soft jingle of the front door caught your attention, and you instinctively turned your head. “Welcome to…” The words froze on your lips as you saw him.

It was him again.

For a moment, you weren’t sure what to make of his expression—it was unreadable, guarded—but you managed to offer a small, sincere smile.

“Welcome back,” you said gently. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I’m looking for some flowers… and a big apology,” he said, his voice softer this time.

“I do sell flowers,” you replied, “but I’m not sure apologies are in stock.” You chuckled lightly, teasing him just a bit.

He smiled—small but genuine. He could tell you weren’t mad. “Can we start over?” he asked.

“Of course,” you replied softly. “So… flowers? What are you looking for today?” you asked, brushing off your apron with a quick motion.

“They’re for my mother. I’m visiting her, and I want something colorful,” he said, his voice lighter than before.

“Of course. I can make an arrangement with a mix of flowers,” you said, walking toward the displays.

You began selecting blooms, your movements seemingly random to the untrained eye. But you knew exactly what you were doing—each flower carefully chosen for its color, balance, and meaning.

"Is this okay, or would you like something more?” you asked, holding up the medium-sized arrangement you’d just finished.

“Perfect,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips as he admired the vibrant bouquet.

You nodded, satisfied with his response, and began wrapping the bouquet in your shop’s signature patterned paper. “Your mom must love bright colors,” you said casually, tying the arrangement with a matching ribbon.

“She does,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on the flowers.

“Then I think she’s going to love these,” you said, offering a gentle smile as you handed him the finished bouquet.

He accepted it carefully, as if it were something precious. “Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. “For this… and for not holding a grudge.”

You chuckled softly. “Life’s too short for grudges, don’t you think?”

He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah, it is.”

“It’s 27 pounds,” you said, tapping on the iPad.

“Sure,” he said, pulling out his phone and tapping it on the terminal.

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke, your voice a little uncertain. “I know it’s totally none of my business, but…” You reached into a drawer, pulling out a small card and sliding it across the counter to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, frowning slightly as he picked up the card. The bold letters across the top read: Potterapy.

“It’s something that helped me a lot,” you said, fiddling with the corner of your apron. “It’s… like a pottery-slash-group-therapy-slash-club?” You gave a small laugh, unsure how to explain.

He looked at the card, then back at you, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “Pottery and therapy?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I know it sounds odd, but it helps”

He stared at the card for a long moment, then tucked it into his coat pocket. “Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Anytime,” you replied with a warm smile. “And, well, no pressure. Just thought you might… I don’t know, I find it helpful.”

He nodded again, his expression unreadable but no longer closed off. “I’ll think about it.”

The bell jingled softly as he left, and you watched him disappear down the street, bouquet in one hand, card in the other. A small sense of hope flickered in your chest—maybe, just maybe, you’d helped.

🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻

The familiar creak of the gate greeted Harry as he stepped into the garden of his childhood home. His mother’s house always smelled of lavender and freshly brewed tea.

“Harry?” Anne called from the kitchen as she heard the door open.

“Yeah, Mum. It’s me,” he replied, his voice soft as he stepped into the warm kitchen, the bouquet of vibrant flowers in hand.

Anne turned, her face lighting up as she saw him. “Oh, those are beautiful!” she exclaimed, walking over to take a closer look. “You didn’t have to, love.”

“I wanted to,” he said, handing her the bouquet.

She took it gently, admiring the vivid colors. “They’re perfect. You always pick the best flowers.”

He smirked faintly. “I had a bit of help.”

As she turned to place the bouquet in a vase, her eyes caught on the small card that had slipped between the blooms. She picked it up curiously, reading the bold letters aloud. “Potterapy?”

“Oh sorry, that’s mine, The florist gave me that. Said it’s a pottery-slash-therapy group or something.”

Anne turned to him, eyebrows raised. “And why did the florist give this to you?”

“We had a bit of a conversation, I found out she lost her fiancé, so we kind of understood each other's pain” He shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “She said it helped her. Thought I might want to give it a try.”

Anne studied him for a moment, her gentle gaze cutting through the walls he so often tried to put up. “And do you?”

Harry sighed, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know, Mum. Maybe.” He looked down at his hands, fiddling with the hem of his coat sleeve. “I mean… it’s been hard, you know? I’m trying, but it’s…”

“Overwhelming,” Anne finished for him, her voice soft but knowing.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Anne stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Harry, you’ve been through so much. There’s no shame in finding help wherever you can. Sometimes, it’s the unexpected things that bring the most peace.”

He looked at her, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. “You think I should go?”

“I think you should do whatever feels right for you,” she said simply, placing the card on the table. “But if you do go, maybe bring me back something you make. I’ve always wanted a new teapot,” she added with a teasing smile.

Harry chuckled softly, the weight in his chest lifting just a bit. “We’ll see.”

Anne returned to arranging the flowers, the bright blooms bringing life to the room. As Harry sat at the table, his gaze fell back to the card, its bold letters staring back at him. Maybe, just maybe, he’d give it a try.

🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻🌷🌻

Harry stood outside the small studio, its painted sign reading Potterapy in bold, colorful letters. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, feeling the weight of hesitation pressing on his chest.

“Just go in,” he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath.

Pushing the door open, he was greeted by the warm scent of clay and the faint hum of soft music playing in the background. The space was cozy, with shelves lined with handmade pottery—cups, bowls, and vases in every color imaginable. A handful of people stood around a large central table, their hands working the clay, their conversations easy and light.

“Hi there!”

Harry turned to see a woman in her mid-40s with short, curly hair and clay-smeared hands walking toward him. Her apron bore the same colorful Potterapy logo.

“You must be new,” she said with a bright smile. “I’m Elaine, the guide here. Welcome!”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry said, awkwardly pulling his hand from his pocket to shake hers. “I’m Harry.”

“Well, Harry, you’re in the right place,” Elaine said warmly. “No pressure here. Just grab a seat, and we’ll get you started.”

He nodded, his nerves still buzzing as he made his way to an empty seat at the table. A block of clay sat in front of him, along with a small set of tools. He glanced around, observing the others. They were of all ages and backgrounds—some chatting, others focused on their work.

And then he saw you, sitting directly across from him. When you turned around to hang your bag on the back of your chair, your eyes met his.

“Hey, Harry,” you said with a warm smile. “You came.”

“Hi…” he replied, then frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name. I just realized that.”

“Y/N,” you said, still smiling.

Before you could say more, Elaine clapped her hands gently to gather the group’s attention. Both of you turned to face her.

“Alright, everyone, let’s take a moment to check in before we start shaping our clay. If you’re new, don’t worry—it’s just a chance to share how you’re feeling today. No pressure.”

One by one, the group went around, sharing simple updates about their week or their current mood. When it was Harry’s turn, he cleared his throat.

“Uh… I’m Harry,” he began, his voice quiet. “This is my first time here. I’m… not really sure how I’m feeling, to be honest.”

Elaine smiled encouragingly. “That’s perfectly fine, Harry. Sometimes it’s enough just to show up.”

The group nodded in agreement, and the check-in continued.

When it was your turn, you cleared your throat. “I’m Y/N, for those who don’t know me. I had a busy week at the flower shop. His birthday’s coming up, so I’m feeling a bit on edge. I hope this class helps me work through those feelings, and I hope the new ones here find some comfort.” You finished, glancing briefly at Harry.

When the check-in was done, Elaine began demonstrating how to work the clay, her hands moving with practiced ease.

“Clay is forgiving,” she explained. “You can shape it, press into it, and if it doesn’t turn out the way you want, you can start over. It’s about the process, not the product.”

She paused, her tone softening as she continued. “Force and strength are crucial virtues here. You have to learn to manage the force within you—how it shapes your feelings and how those feelings manifest in your life. Too much force, and you’ll have to start over. Too little, and nothing changes. Focus on finding that balance.”

Harry listened carefully, her words resonating more deeply than he expected. He picked up the clay, its cool, firm texture unfamiliar but oddly grounding. Slowly, he pressed his fingers into it, experimenting tentatively. The shape that began to form wasn’t anything recognizable, but it was his.

Harry’s hands moved clumsily over the clay, his brows furrowed as he pressed and pulled, unsure of what he was doing. The clay didn’t seem to respond the way Elaine had demonstrated, and frustration began to bubble up inside him.

You glanced at him, noticing the stiff way he worked, his jaw tight with concentration.

“Hey,” you said softly, leaning slightly toward him. “Do you want some help? It looks like—”

“No, I can do this, I don't need help,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended.

Your smile faltered, and you quickly straightened up, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck. “Oh… okay. Sorry,” you mumbled, turning back to your own clay.

Harry froze, the sharpness of his own words hitting him like a wave. He hadn’t meant to lash out, especially not at you. The way your face fell made his chest tighten with guilt.

For a moment, he sat there, staring at his clay, his hands still. Then he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I, uh…” He hesitated before glancing toward you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

You looked at him.

“I just…” He sighed “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I guess I’m a little… frustrated.”

Your shoulders relaxed slightly, and you gave him a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay. It’s not easy at first.”

He met your gaze, his expression softer now. “Do you think you could show me? I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” you said, your voice warm again as you turned your chair slightly to face him. “Here, let me show you.”

You reached out, showing him how to press the clay gently while keeping the base steady. “It’s all about small, intentional movements,” you explained, your hands brushing his briefly as you adjusted the pressure he was using.

Harry watched closely, following your instructions. Gradually, the clay began to take shape, and his frustration eased.

“See?” you said with a grin. “Not so bad, right?”

He chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away. “Yeah. Thanks”

“No problem,” you replied, turning back to your own project.

As you worked side by side, the air between you felt lighter, and Harry silently vowed to keep his temper in check. He didn’t want to ruin the fragile sense of peace he was starting to feel here—with the clay and with you.

As the minutes passed, the tension eased, and the soft hum of conversation filled the studio. Harry glanced over at you, watching as your hands skillfully shaped the clay. The movements seemed almost second nature to you, each press and pull deliberate and confident.

“So, what are you making?” he asked, his voice breaking the quiet between you.

You glanced up at him with a small smile. “A vase,” you replied. “What else would a florist make?”

He chuckled softly, leaning back slightly. “Fair point. Is that, like, your go-to project?”

“Kind of,” you said, focusing on the curve of the vase as you spoke. “I like making different shapes—ones that aren’t perfectly symmetrical. It’s like every vase has its own personality, you know?”

Harry tilted his head, intrigued. “Do you use them in your shop?”

“Sometimes,” you said, pausing to inspect your work. “I’ll display a few, but most of the time, I give them away. Customers, friends, anyone who might appreciate them.”

“That’s… nice” he said, his tone softening.

You shrugged, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, really. I just think handmade things have a way of making people feel special. Like someone put a little extra thought into it.”

He nodded, running his fingers over his own misshapen project. “I get that. There’s something about creating something with your hands. It feels more… real.”

You smiled at his comment, nodding in agreement. “Exactly. Even if it’s not perfect, it’s still yours. That’s what makes it special.”

Harry’s lips quirked into a small smile, and for the first time, he felt a little more at ease. He glanced back at your vase, admiring the smooth curve and unique shape.

“It’s really good,” he said, motioning to your work.

“Thanks,” you replied, glancing at his clay. “Yours isn’t too bad either. What are you making?”

He let out a short laugh. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

You laughed with him, the sound light and easy. “Well, that’s the fun of it. Sometimes, the clay decides for you.”

He smiled at that, feeling a strange sense of comfort in your words. For the first time in a long while, Harry felt like maybe he didn’t have to have everything figured out. --------

General taglist: @hermionelove @mads3502

Let me know if you liked it! 💖 there will be more chapters soon.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles fiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writers #harry fanfic #harry edward styles

169 notes · View notes

ohbueckers · 1 month ago

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YOU WANNA TALK TERMS AND CONDITIONS?

uconn senior paige bueckers has her eyes on one thing: a national championship. after a long road back from injury and a season of almosts, she’s determined to block out anything that might knock her focus, especially the secret she’s been keeping since junior year. nevaeh ‘nevi’ batista, co captain of the cheer squad and completely off limits, was never supposed to be more than a passing distraction. but now, with everything on the line and no one knowing they even know each other, paige and nevi are walking a tightrope between control and collapse, trying not to fall for something that was never supposed to matter in the first place.

FINE—

authors note. i have a couple of updates for my supporters and donors… they’re finally here after me tweaking the plot 700 times! updates will probably be inconsistent like always, but i will have a lot more free time after exams end. i’m thinking of making an actual tag list for this (surprise, surprise) so just let me know if you wanna be added. missing uconn paige like a sad baby rn so this was only right. dallas p up next doe!

includes. switch of point of views. sexual content, 18+. secret relationship / situationship, mentions of injury, emotional repression, internalized pressure / performance anxiety, toxic tendencies, daddy issues, mentions of sexuality, angst, intoxication, lots of cheer squad names (not really important), the sharing of intimate content, subtle manipulation, etc. not real interpretations of paige or the uconn wbb team (or geno), fair warning that you’ll probably hate nevi sometimes, but she’s pretty so she gets a pass!

YOU DON’T EVEN LIKE ME.

THAT’S THE ONLY WAY THIS WORKS.

playlist. songs i associate heavily with paige and nevi! you’ll see why, sooner or later…

tell your friends, the weeknd. “last year, i did all the politickin,’ this year i’ma focus on the vision.”

slut! (taylor’s version) (from the vault), taylor swift. “i said it might blow up in your pretty face, i’m not saying do it anyway, but you’re going to.”

GREEDY, partynextdoor drake. “this is not conventional, this is not traditional, this is unprofessional, but these are my confessions though.”

loose, daniel caesar. “if you ever start to wonder why all the rain and all the thunder follows her around, you better cut that girl loose. what are you, a coward?”

faking it, calvin harris kehlani lil yachty funk wav. “why you, why you, say let go if you’re still holding it? just a little bit better at faking it than me, baby.”

connect, drake. “i remember when my schedule was as flexible as she is, she call me and tell me be here before the sun up, i be dressed before we hung up.”

bad religion, frank ocean. “if it brings me to my knees… it’s a bad religion.”

drinking and driving, jhene aiko. “so i need you tell me that you love me some more, put your hands on my body as my clothes hit the floor.”

none of ur friends business, ginuwine. “but i don’t give a damn, long as it’s me you trust, ��cause i can’t get down with your clique.”

don’t matter to me, drake. “you wanted me to gon’ put my hands on you just to show you i love you. you know i can’t jeopardize both our reputations.”

goodnight n go, ariana grande. “it’s bad enough we get along so well, just say goodnight and go.”

& more tba!

chapters. all t&c chapters will be linked here, from start to finish!

one. don’t look too long.

two. reintroductions are a cruel sport.

three. it’s purple.

& more tba!

#xoxo ohbueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers blog #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fanfiction #dallas wings #uconn wbb #lgbtq fanfiction #wlw fiction #wlw fanfic #wlw post #wlw smut

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aethon-recs · 24 days ago

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This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (18 – 31 May 2025)

A wonderful end to May, including a handful of excellent new fics to check out in the ship tag!

First up, a recently completed fic rec:

⭐ Until there’s nothing left but what I made you by @goldenzingy46 (M, 16k, complete)

Tom and Harry Potter-Riddle were married in a suburban town, where all the houses were terraced and the exact same shade of white, tidy wooden boarding along the front. The front gardens were bright green lawns, no weeds, of course, and a white picket fence. Harry's husband was the mayor of Hogsmeade, where Harry had lived all his life, and his life was perfect. So why was he getting nightmares? Why did his smile flicker and waver? Why did he always say the wrong thing?

Why you should read it: I loved how unsettling this fic was from beginning to end. Right away, you get a sense of wrongness about the picture-perfect suburban setting that Harry and Tom live in, and it’s so delightful how all the layers start to unfold until the horror story at the center of this fic becomes revealed. Awesome, very cinematic ending too!

Tomarrymort One-Shot Must Reads

One Shot | To be Ruined by @cyandenial

One Shot | Touched by Dusk by @moontearpensfic

One Shot | To be Marked by @cyandenial

Tomarrymort Ongoing Must Reads

Chapter 3 of Steps to Parnassus by @solelyseeking

Chapter 31 of What In Me Is Dark, Illumine by @telelli-writes

Chapter 25 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 9 through 11 of Constellation - Aquila by cassiopeiassin

Chapter 30 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3

Chapter 17 of Reckless Cartography by @meles-merrivale

Chapters 7 through 9 of complete me, so incompletely by @hoppsanwrites

Chapters 3 through 5 of it’s called freefall, baby by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 46 through 49 of A Snake in the Apothecary by SedimentaryBear

(new ⭐️) Chapter 4 of kill the spare (wear his bones) by ermineah

(new ⭐️) Chapters 1 through 4 of soulstice by @marvohlou

(new ⭐️) Chapters 1 through 2 of Nobody Special by riddlereading

Chapter 16 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapter 6 of Blood Like Candy by @moontearpensfic

(new ⭐️) Parts 1 through 3 of Holy Ground by @bloodiedmoth

Chapter 13 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapter 4 of Pledged by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 19 of the taste of autumn upon your lips by @kozzieberks

Chapter 15 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

Chapter 24 of Hole in the Wall by @elddrmot

Chapter 24 of Part Two - To Grow a Heart by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 6 of it foretells only rain by @aglassroseneverfades

Chapter 27 of Threads by @inkedinindigo

(new ⭐️) Chapter 1 of Deathly Embrace by @isalisewrites

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #tomarrymort recs #aethon recs #tomarry recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #hp fic recs #harrymort recs #tomarry weekly #this week in tomarrymort

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corroded-hellfire · 9 months ago

Note

Could we perhaps get a blurb/chapter of when Eliza was born - maybe Eddie thinking back that this is so different than how Brittany was, when Y/N got into labor, where they were and how they reacted?

+ could you write about Eliza being born? I would love to see their reactions and eddie helping reader out plss

+ Please, let us in on the labor with Eddie and Reader from "As you wish". Did Y/N curse Eddie out, threatening to kick his ass or did Eddie do a prince Harry (God I hope not) and use all the gas?

I thought this would be a good chance to tell the story of two births of two very important Munsons, ten years apart 💕

Warnings: childbirth and all that comes with it, Brittany, not a warning but the italic sections are flashbacks/in the past

Words: 7.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The blaring wail of Eddie’s alarm clock wakes you up from your night of fitful sleep. It’s hard to remember the last time you had a full peaceful eight hours. The soreness in your lower back and the increasing pressure in your pelvis have been your loyal companions for the past few weeks, determined on not letting you have a moment of comfort.

Next to you, Eddie smacks his hand against the clock. The whining stops and the bed shifts as Eddie rolls over and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Your answering groan makes your husband let out a soft chuckle as he pushes himself up into a seated position. Figuring it’ll be better to get up than continue to lay there so uncomfortably, you roll onto your side and shove yourself up until you’re sitting. A look down at your feet reveals that your ankles are swollen. Again.

“Know what today is?” Eddie asks as he opens his underwear drawer.

“Uh huh,” you hum. The mattress springs squeak as you stand up.

“Think she’ll make her grand entrance today?” he asks.

“Doubt it,” you say through a yawn. “Babies are never born on their due date.”

Eddie strips off his shirt and comes around the bed to give you a proper good morning kiss.

“How you feeling, baby?”

“Peachy,” you grunt. “Gonna go get the boys up.”

Luckily, neither Ryan nor Luke gives you any trouble waking up or getting ready for school. They know how you’ve been feeling lately and have been great about helping you out when they can.

“Bye!” Ryan says as he slips his backpack on.

“Have a good day,” Eddie says, ruffling both boys’ hair.

You press a kiss to the top of their heads and Luke rubs a hand across your swollen belly.

“Be good in there, Eliza!”

A smile grows on your face at his words. They head out the door to the bus stop, Ryan giving you one last wave before you close the door.

“Alright, I’m gonna head out,” Eddie says. He walks over and cups your face in his warm hands. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” you assure him.

He nods and presses a sweet kiss against your lips.

“Relax and get some rest.”

“Okay.” You give him another kiss in return. “Have a good day at work.”

“Love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

Not even two minutes after Eddie walks out the door, you plop down in front of the television with the remote. The only thing on at this time of day are soap operas, which have started to become an addiction of yours since there’s nothing else for you to do.

Fortunately, one of today’s plotlines is so boring and you predicted the identical twin brother twist a week ago, so you manage to fall asleep. It’s only a cat nap, but you’ll take anything you can get these days.

A different kind of discomfort awakens you this time. Your stomach growls so loudly it feels like it rattles the windows. You rally the strength to get up from the couch, and with a little help from the arms and back of it, you’re standing.

An infomercial for some Chuck Norris Total Gym blathers on as background noise as you walk–or more like waddle–into the kitchen. A peanut butter and banana sandwich has been a go-to for you during this pregnancy—after Luke happily introduced it to you one day over the summer. There’s something about the rich nuttiness and the sweetness of the fruit together between two pieces of bread that makes Eliza very happy in your womb.

Once you’ve got peanut butter spread on both slices of bread, you move to grab a banana from the fruit bowl. The moment your hand touches the yellow peel, you feel a twinge of pain shoot from your lower back, through your tummy, and down into your pelvis. Your hand braces you against the counter as you breathe through the pain.

What the hell was that? You think to yourself. That fucking hurt.

You take a deep breath and grab the banana. As you turn back to your sandwich and peel open the piece of fruit, it hits you.

Were those…contractions? No, you tell yourself, shaking your head. It had to be something else.

“No one ever actually has their baby on the due date,” you say into the quiet kitchen. “Maybe I have to pee again. I swear, this little girl thinks my bladder is a trampoline.”

Once you’re finished up in the bathroom, you head back to finish making your sandwich. But the minute you pick up the butter knife, another stab of pain attacks.

“Oh boy,” you say, one hand dropping the knife and going to your lower back, while the other rests on your bump. “You’re ready to come out, aren’t you? You heard that doctor say ‘October 7th’ and you made a note on a calendar, huh?”

The mental image of the baby in your belly marking the date off on a calendar makes you smile as you waddle over to the phone hanging on the wall. The line rings twice before someone picks up.

“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Mark speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Mark.” You breathe through another twinge of pain. “Is Eddie there?”

“Yeah, let me go grab him for you,” Mark says.

“Thanks.”

It feels like an eternity as you hear the phone being put down, shuffling noises in the background, then low murmuring voices, until finally the phone is being moved again and you finally hear your husband’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say. “I, um, think I’m having contractions.”

“You are?”

It’s hard to tell if that’s excitement or urgency in his voice. Probably both.

“Yeah, the first one I just waved off as a fluke. But they’ve happened a couple of times now.”

“Alright, I’m on my way home, princess,” Eddie says, and you can already hear him moving around, starting the process. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “They’re quick and not too close together yet. I’ll start counting when I feel the next one.”

“Good.” The sound of his keys jingling comes through the phone. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you.”

A hint of giddiness is already creeping into his tone. He’s wanted a baby girl for so long, and she’s finally ready to make her appearance. You make a mental note to think of Eddie’s excitement anytime a contraction overwhelms you. Of course, you have your own excitement, and lots of it, but seeing Eddie be so truly happy is one thing that could get you through all the pain in the world.

Eddie unsheathes his sword as the azure dragon flies overhead. Too far for him to even reach if he threw his sword. The blood red skies cast a purple shadow on the giant winged creature. But Eddie’s almost there. He can see the tower in the distance, normally not a rough journey, but there’s bound to be something guarding the locked-away maiden.

As he gets closer, Eddie sees that it’s a female Cloud Giant tasked with keeping people like him away. Only the most noble who dare to help the poor young thing locked away.

Eddie picks up speed, his sword at the ready as he approaches the giant, then—bam! Something lands against Eddie’s cheek. He looks up, seeing if the dragon perhaps swooped down to swipe the knight with his tail. But the skies are clear. So, Eddie continues forward. Bam! What the hell is—

Eddie is jolted back into consciousness by his own pillow smacking his face.

“What the…” Eddie grumbles in a scratchy, sleepy voice. “What’s going on?

He rubs his bleary eyes and sees that Brittany is sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him.

“Britt?”

Eddie stumbles to his feet and clicks on his bedside lamp before walking around the bed to check on his wife. The first thing he notices is that the crotch of her nightgown and the sheets below her are wet.

Wow, this baby must really be messing with her bladder if—wait.

“Your water broke?” Eddie's voice suddenly has no trace of sleepiness in it.

“Yeah.”

Brittany isn’t looking at him. Instead, she looks down at her hands resting on her large bump.

“Come on, let’s get you changed,” Eddie says, gently slipping his hand beneath one of her arms so he can help her up.

Brittany groans once she’s on her feet and Eddie hurriedly turns towards their dresser and digs for something she can change into.

“Contractions?” Eddie asks as he grabs a pair of sweatpants.

“Mhmm.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her.

Eddie quickly helps Brittany into her clothes and grabs her already prepared overnight bag from the closet. He slowly leads his wife into the living room so she can rest on the couch while he grabs Ryan.

The twenty-two-month-old is sleeping soundly in his crib. Eddie hates to disturb him, but the ball is already in motion.

“Wha?” Ryan croaks as Eddie scoops him up and holds him against his chest.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he tells his son. “Go back to sleep.”

Ryan thunks his head down on Eddie’s shoulder and immediately begins lightly snoring.

The soft whistle in his ear makes Eddie smile as he steps into the kitchen to use the nearest phone. He quickly dials a number he knows by heart and waits for someone to pick up at the plant.

“Yeah, hi, is Wayne there? Yeah, Munson,” Eddie says into the receiver. He hikes Ryan up a little higher on his chest while he waits for the phone to get passed.

“Hello?”

Eddie’s never been happier to hear that gruff voice.

“Hey! It’s, uh, me. So, Brittany’s water broke and Ryan needs—”

“I’ll punch out right now and meet ya at the trailer.”

God, Eddie loves his uncle.

“Okay, see you there.”

Eddie heads back into the living room and helps Brittany up with one hand while the other keeps a good hold on Ryan. Somehow, Eddie manages to get them both in the car, all buckled and ready to go.

“Whew.” Eddie takes a deep breath in the driver’s seat. He takes one more before he starts the car. “Here we go.”

The moment Eddie walks through the front door, he makes sure you’re sitting down and comfortable. Sitting down? Yes. Comfortable? Not so much.

But you’re content with your peanut butter and banana sandwich as your husband presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Nine minutes apart,” you inform him through a mouthful of peanut butter.

Eddie chuckles at the muffled words.

“Okay. I’m gonna get changed, then call Wayne so he can be here for when the boys get home.”

You nod and take another bite of your sandwich.

Eddie comes back just as another contraction is starting. You set your plate down on the couch to your right and Eddie takes a seat on the other side of you. One of your hands braces you against the cushion you’re sitting on, and Eddie slips his hand into your free one.

“Just squeeze my hand, okay? And breathe.”

The pulsating wracks your body as you focus on taking in a large lungful of air. You hold it for a few seconds, counting time by the number of gentle squeezes you give Eddie’s hand, then let it out.

“Ugh,” you groan when the pain releases you. You flop back on the couch, tipping your chin up as you try and catch your breath. “That was the longest one so far.”

“We’ll start timing that too,” Eddie says.

He presses a kiss to your cheek before pressing a few to the back of your hands. His hands stall when you let out a deep sigh.

“Do you not want me to be touching you? What do you need?” There’s a shake in his voice that angers you, because you know exactly why and who made him unsure of how to comfort a woman in labor.

“Yes, I want you to touch me,” you say, grabbing his hand in both of yours. “Your touch calms me.”

It doesn’t escape your notice that his shoulders sag in relief before he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Just let me know what you want me to do,” he says.

“This,” you reply, leaning into his arms. Your eyes slip closed as you snuggle up to the warmth of his body. “Want you.”

“I’m not leaving your side, princess,” he assures you. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

You nod against his neck and Eddie swipes up the remote. He flips through the channels, but it’s the middle of a Tuesday, so there’s not a whole lot on.

“I can grab a tape or a DVD?” your husband offers.

You shake your head, holding onto him even tighter.

“Don’t want you to move. Whatever you find is fine.”

“Alright, well…I guess we’ll watch The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

Eddie feels your chuckle rumble against his chest.

“That’s fine,” you say.

It’s only seconds before another contraction starts, and Eddie can tell by the way your fingertips dig into him. This one lasts about as long as the previous one, and you’re able to get semi-comfortable against your husband again.

The house is quiet, the two of you on the couch, watching a movie that neither of you have any real interest in. The low volume only makes the loud pop that echoes through the room even more pronounced.

“My water just…”

“Yes, it did.”

A heavy pause hangs in the air as the two of you stare at one another. It’s obvious you have to get up and get going now, but the realization that this is really happening is sinking in for you both.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out in a whisper.

This breaks Eddie out of his trance. He starts to laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Here we go, sweetheart.”

He helps you up off the couch and into your room so you can change clothes. With your husband's help, you slip into a dry pair of sweatpants, an oversized Ghostbusters t-shirt Luke got you when you complained that there were no comfy maternity shirts, and one of Eddie’s hoodies on top of it—even though you can’t zip it up. Your old college backpack has been filled with supplies for weeks, all in preparation for this moment. Eddie slides onto one of his shoulders and walks with you to the front door.

Just as the two of you step into the living room, the door opens. Wayne steps inside and it takes four seconds for his eyes to go from you to Eddie, to the bag hanging on his shoulder, then back to you.

“Thank God you’re here,” you sigh in relief.

If for some reason he hadn’t arrived here before the boys got home, you knew they’d be okay for a while, but you’ll be able to relax more knowing that their grandpa is here with them.

“Heading out to the hospital?” Wayne asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers with a nod. “Her water broke.”

A smile graces the older man’s features, and it softens him.

“You got this, darlin’,” he says as he opens the front door wide enough for you and Eddie to get through.

You shoot him a grateful smile as you step outside.

“We’ll call when we have any update,” Eddie tells his uncle.

Wayne just nods and pats Eddie on the back as he passes. The two of you walk to your car together and Wayne watches from the entryway, not wanting to go inside yet in case he can help in any way.

Once you’re securely in the car, Eddie waves to Wayne before slipping into the driver’s seat. As he adjusts the rearview mirror, his eyes catch on the car seat that’s been installed for the past two weeks. It brings a smile to his face as he starts the engine.

“Let’s have us a baby,” Eddie says as he shifts the car into reverse.

As soon as you arrive at the hospital, it’s very quick work when Eddie alerts them you’re in labor. You’re brought right to a room and hooked up to lines and so many wires you’re not even sure what they’re all for.

Your doctor shows up not too long after you’re settled into your bed and says you’re not quite ready to push yet. Your contractions are getting closer together, but they’re not quite at the active labor phase yet.

Now after being hurried up to this room and all set up to go, there’s nothing to do. The flurry of activity kept your mind off the pain that was creeping up in intensity each time it snuck up on you. But now that there’s nothing to occupy your mind, it feels like it’s all that fills your head.

“Do you want some pain meds, baby?” Eddie asks, slipping his hand into yours.

He must’ve noticed the way you were gritting your teeth hard enough to wear them down to nubs.

“I can have some?” you ask.

“Sure, sweetheart. Let me go get the nurse.”

Eddie is right and the nurse is able to administer some medicine that allows you to relax a little. It takes enough of the edge off that you’re able to focus on and appreciate Eddie’s attempts to distract you from the pain and boredom.

Your husband had prepared ahead of time and had slipped his battered and well-loved copy of The Two Towers into your overnight bag. He now brings the story to life for you, reading with such passion, and doing different funny voices for the different characters.

“‘Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours,’” Eddie reads to you. “‘But that’s a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it – and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We’ve got – you’ve got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’ ‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. ‘But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later – or sooner.’”

Then it’s time for the doctor to check how dilated you are and the timing of your contractions. It’s still not time, she tells you with a sympathetic smile before heading out to attend to other patients.

Now, Eddie finds a pile of old magazines and newspapers strewn about a small table in the corner. He picks up an outdated print of the Washington Post at random, sits in the chair he’s positioned near your head, and begins to read a news article in an over-the-top news anchor voice.

“The first musical number epitomized the kind of commercialized outrageousness that MTV has perfected in recent years. It featured Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, decked out in white wedding ensembles in a homage to Madonna, who famously wore a wedding dress on MTV's first Video Music Awards broadcast in 1984, when she performed ‘Like a Virgin.’ Madonna appeared dressed as a groom, and the number, which also briefly featured Missy Elliott, provided the evening's first gyrating rumps, as well as a truly yechy moment: The sight of oversexed old Madonna tongue-kissing oversexed young Spears. It didn't seem outrageous or sultry; it smacked of desperation.”

“Such outrage,” you joke with a shake of your head.

“Kids today,” Eddie says with an over dramatic sigh. “All their music is just noise.”

You giggle and reach for his hand. He gladly takes it and laces his fingers with yours.

“How are you feeling, princess?”

“I’m good,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “My wonderful, loving husband is doing a great job of keeping me entertained.”

A smile that can only be described as adoring grows on Eddie’s face. He leans forward and presses kisses to your knuckles.

“Anything for you.”

By the time the hospital staff gets Brittany up to her room and hooked up to all the equipment, the doctor says it’s not long before she can start pushing. Which also means that there’s no time to give her any drugs—no matter how much she begs.

“Ugh! This sucks,” Brittany complains once it’s just her and Eddie in the room.

“I know,” Eddie says.

“Do you?” she snaps back.

“I mean, I…” Eddie stutters over his words. “I was there when Ryan was born. I know the pain you were in then.”

“At least they were able to give me something for pain then. Now I can’t even get a fucking Tylenol.”

“Do you want to talk about something to keep your mind off it?” Eddie offers. He scoots his chair up to the edge of the bed and rests a hand on Brittany’s blanket-covered thigh.

“Fine,” the blonde grunts out. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Um…what about middle names? We haven’t decided yet.”

“Didn’t we?” Brittany sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No,” Eddie replies. “Just first names. Luke for boy, Lucy for girl.”

“Fine. So, Ryan’s middle name is after your uncle because you just had to do that,” Brittany rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. “What about from my family?”

“What names do you like?” Eddie says between clenched teeth. She's having my baby, she’s having my baby, she’s having my baby, he reminds himself over and over again.

“Anatoly,” Brittany says. “For a boy.”

“Luke Anatoly Munson.” Eddie wrinkles his nose at how the name sounds out loud. “I don’t think that goes.”

“Fine.” Brittany’s silent for a moment as she considers other names. “Andrei?”

Eddie internally sighs. He’s always thought it was cool that much of Brittany’s family emigrated from Russia, but the land’s native names don’t flow well with “Luke Munson.”

“Aleksandr,” Brittany suggests, pulling Eddie out of his own head.

“Huh.”

Eddie leans back in his chair, letting the name roll around his brain. It's a good one, he thinks. But…

“Should we use the American spelling?” Eddie asks.

“Why, so he can be named after your dad?” Brittany bites out.

The room is silent as Eddie furrows his brow. He shakes his head in confusion as a nurse steps in to check on the monitors Brittany is hooked up to.

“That’s not…Britt, that isn’t my dad’s name.”

“What?” Brittany stares at her husband as if he has three heads. “Of course it is.”

“People called him ‘Al’, yeah,” Eddie starts. “But his full name is Alan. Not Alexander.”

“Oh.” Brittany waves a hand dismissively as if not knowing her husband’s dad’s name after years together is nothing—a common mistake, even.

Eddie shakes his head, shoving the irritation to the back of his mind for the time being. There will be plenty of time later to be annoyed by Brittany’s ignorance and apathy. After the baby is born.

The tension grows in his neck, so Eddie rolls his shoulders and leans back in his chair.

“So, Luke Alexander Munson for a boy?” Eddie checks.

“Sure,” Brittany says as another contraction washes over her. The way her eyes squeeze shut so tightly and her teeth clench with a vengeance pangs Eddie’s heart.

“And for a girl,” Brittany grits out, obviously trying to talk through the pain in an attempt to ignore it, “Lucy Alexandra Munson.”

“That’s pretty.”

Eddie goes to take his wife’s hand as her body relaxes from the fading contraction. But Brittany snatches her hand back.

“Please, just don’t…touch me.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Eddie barely has time to feel the sting of rejection before the doctor is back in the room to check on Brittany’s progress.

“Good news,” the doctor announces. “You’re dilated enough. It’s time to start pushing.”

“Oh boy,” Brittany mutters, trying to garner strength from her exhausted body.

The room is a flurry of activity as nurses prepare everything the doctor might need.

Eddie stands and goes to reach for his wife’s hand before remembering she doesn’t want to be touched. But as another contraction wracks her body, Brittany reaches up and grabs his hand. It brings a small smile to Eddie’s lips, despite how hard she’s gripping it because of her pain.

“Alright, Brittany,” the doctor says as he gets into position at the end of the bed, “we’re going to try pushing now.”

“We?” Brittany barks out in a strained and breathless laugh.

“Well, mostly you,” the doctor teases as a nurse goes to stand on Brittany’s other side, opposite of Eddie.

“Alright, honey,” the nurse says, putting one hand on Brittany’s shoulder. “Push when the doctor counts to three.”

“One, two…”

He doesn’t even get to three before Brittany starts squeezing the life out of Eddie’s hand. Eddie just clenches his teeth and takes it though, willing to soak up any pain that he can from his wife.

“Jesus, fuck!” Brittany shouts through her pushing. Her face is already sweaty, matting hair to her forehead. Eddie’s quick to brush it away with his free hand.

“You’re doing so good, Britt,” Eddie encourages. “You’ve got this.”

Brittany nods, either in acknowledgment of his words or just because she wants him to shut up.

“Almost there, Mrs. Munson,” the doctor says.

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise. When Ryan was born, they were at it for a while before he decided to make his grand entrance into the world. People had told him that second babies tend to come out quicker, but Eddie didn’t know this one was practically banging down the door to get out.

“This one’s got some mettle,” Eddie says.

“Just like Dad,” Brittany grits out and it takes Eddie a second to get her joke.

Mettle, metal? He got it.

Eddie huffs a laugh, honestly impressed by her ability to come up with a joke while she’s trying to pass a human being through her body.

“Okay, now just one more biiig push,” the doctor says.

“Come on, hun,” Eddie cheers, bracing his hand against Brittany’s as she channels everything in her to push.

“Almost there, almost there…” the doctor repeats.

Suddenly the shrill sound of an infant wailing fills the small room. It’s the most beautiful sound Eddie has ever heard.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announces, holding the newborn up enough for the parents to see.

Brittany drops Eddie’s hand out of pure exhaustion, but there’s a smile on her face as she drops back against the pillows. The baby is handed to a nurse for initial cleanup.

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie says softly to Brittany.

She tilts her head up and gives him a sleepy smile.

The softness in her gaze has Eddie leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. Surprisingly, she kisses him back.

“Would you like to cut the cord, Dad?” the doctor asks.

“Yes,” Eddie responds before the doctor can even finish the question.

He walks down to the foot of the bed and takes the pair of scissors to the umbilical cord, snipping it in two. Eddie hands the scissors back blindly, as his eyes never leave his newborn son. No detail escapes his notice as he watches a nurse gently take him and lay him on Brittany’s chest.

“Oh, hi,” Brittany says, one hand covering the entirety of his little back.

Eddie comes back up to the head of the bed and beams down at his wife and baby. Brittany glances up at him, then back down.

“Look at this beautiful boy,” Eddie coos.

Brittany chuckles and Eddie leans down to kiss her head, then the newborn’s.

“Beautiful little Luke,” Brittany says.

A nurse takes him back to fully clean him up and swaddle him in a soft white blanket.

“You want to hold him?” the nurse asks Eddie.

“Yes.” Eddie nods emphatically and holds out his arms.

The moment the gentle weight lands in his arms, Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Hi, my boy.”

“To place a call outside of the hospital, please press nine.”

Eddie does as the automated voice tells him and leans back in his chair. You let your head loll to the side, the scratchy pillow brushing against your cheek as you watch your husband. This brief respite from contractions allows you to smile when you hear the echo of Ryan’s voice come from the phone.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, grinning as well. “How was school?”

“Good! Isthebabyhereyet?”

His eagerness makes Eddie chuckle.

“No, no baby yet. Just figured I’d check in with you guys.”

“What he say?!” Luke shouts in the background.

“No baby!” Ryan tells him.

The phone shuffles back and forth before Luke says, “Just share it!”

“Uh, you both there?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah!” they say at the same time.

“Did you ask—”

“Not yet, I—”

Eddie tilts his head to the side as they bicker. He somehow deciphers that they want to talk to you.

“You can talk to her if you hush up and behave.”

Both boys fall silent at that. There’s a small pause before Ryan says, “Okay.”

“Good.” Eddie nods and hands the phone over to you.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” two young voices call at the same time.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks.

As if his question summoned it, a contraction rears its ugly head. Your forehead furrows as you try to ignore it and focus on the conversation with the boys.

“I’m doing okay.”

“Do you hurt?” Luke asks.

Your free hand bangs against the bed rail in an attempt to keep from shouting in pain. Eddie sits up straighter in his chair, concern filling his eyes. He motions to the phone, silently asking if you want him to take it back.

“Little bit,” you grit out to answer Luke while shaking your head to answer Eddie.

“Did they give you any medicine?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah, a while ago. So, uh, what did you guys do at school today?”

“Nothing really,” Luke says. “Oh, you and Dad have to come down to the school and get the meat thermometer.”

“The what?” you ask.

“The meat thermometer.”

“Luke, what are you talking about?”

Eddie looks at you, questioningly, and you shrug your shoulders.

“Me and my friend Kevin wanted to test the temperature of the cafeteria hot dogs, so I brought the meat thermometer. But then we got caught and the lunch lady took it. So now you need to get it.”

“You did what?” You hear Wayne’s muffled shout.

“We wanted to make sure it was safe!” Luke defends.

The contraction finally releases you and you’re able to relax as much as you can in the lumpy hospital bed.

“What about you, Ry?” you ask.

“I didn’t care how hot the meat was,” he says, completely serious.

You laugh and it helps your body wash away that lingering whisper of pain.

“No,” you say. “What did you do at school today?”

“We have to write papers for history class, and we started today.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the paper on?” you ask, trying to think of anything except the next contraction.

“Everyone got assigned some kind of job we have to study. I got dentist.”

“And what did you learn today?” As much as Luke’s shenanigans can keep you entertained, they can also stress you out. But Ryan loves to go into detail about what he’s working on at school and this shall hopefully provide you with a relaxing distraction.

“Uhh…” Ryan hums as he thinks. “The first dental school in America was founded by Horace H. Hayden and Chaplin A. Harris.”

“When?” you press.

“1840. In Maryland, in case you were gonna ask!”

It’s impossible not to smile at how well the boy knows you.

“Good job, Ry,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.”

The beginnings of a new contraction appear, and your fingers tighten around the phone receiver. You spy your doctor out in the hallway and use it as an excuse.

“Alright, boys,” you start, “my doctor is coming so I gotta go, okay? Daddy will call when there’s an update.”

“Okay,” Ryan says.

“Love you!” Luke adds.

“I love you both, too.

Eddie hangs up the phone for you just as your doctor actually does walk into your room.

“How are we feeling Mrs. Munson?” she asks you.

You’ve been “Mrs. Munson” for eight months now but it still gives you butterflies every time you hear it.

“Contraction-y,” you tell Dr. Hahn.

She chuckles and nods her head in understanding.

“That makes sense, you know, with the contractions and all.” She tugs two medical gloves out of the box marked “medium”. “Alright, I’m just gonna check how your dilation is going.”

As you lay back to let the doctor do her thing, Eddie leans forward and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Should I be concerned about whatever it is that Luke did now?” he asks.

“I think it’s okay,” you say with a chuckle. “Apparently, you just have to go to school to pick up a meat thermometer he brought to check the temperature of the school hot dogs.”

Eddie stares at you, his face almost as blank and emotionless as you’ve ever seen it. You can practically see his brain attempting to digest this information, but it thinks it’s reading the data incorrectly.

“He what?” Eddie finally asks.

Luckily, Dr. Hahn saves you from admitting you have no idea what goes on in the mind of Luke Munson.

“Well, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says, “the time has arrived. You’re fully dilated now; time to start pushing.”

You’ve known all along that you’d have to do this—hell, you’ve known it for about eight months now—but the reality of actually pushing a person out of your body is sobering. How did this moment finally arrive? Weren’t you and Eddie just sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting for the results of the pregnancy test? And now you’re supposed to start pushing? You feel as if you’ve had no time to prepare. Prepare for this labor, prepare for taking the baby home, prepare to be a fully-fledged mom to a newborn.

A moment of serenity washes over you as your mind reminds you of one important factor, though: this is your and Eddie’s baby. You are bringing a child into this world that is half you and half the man you love. A baby who is the product of the love that you both easily fell into and fought like hell to make work. Suddenly, labor doesn’t seem so bad. It may hurt, but to you it is a privilege and honor to bring this little girl, and everything she stands for, into the world.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” you assure him with a small smile. “I’m ready to meet our baby.”

The infectious grin that spreads on Eddie’s face warms your heart and gives you a boost of strength to get this show on the road.

Eddie stands up as Dr. Hahn gets everything situated. He slips his hand into yours and leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I’m right here with you, princess,” he says softly. “You’re the strongest woman—no, person I know.”

His words have your eyes filling with tears and the hormones certainly aren’t helping.

“I love you so much, Eddie.”

“I love you, too.”

“Oh, here comes another contraction,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitors that you’re hooked up to. “We’re gonna try pushing on this one, Mrs. Munson, okay?”

“Okay.”

The wobble in your voice is clear. Eddie presses a kiss to the back of your hand. Just as his lips brush your skin, you feel the now-familiar pressure that precedes a contraction.

“Oof,” you groan as the intensity increases.

“Alright, now…push,” Dr. Hahn instructs.

You take the deepest breath that your pain will allow, grit your teeth, and clutch your husband’s hand as you begin to push.

“Great job, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Keep it going.”

And it does keep going. And going. And going.

But fifty-three minutes later, you hear the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

Shrill, high-pitched wails fill the room, and you immediately begin sobbing.

“Here she is,” Dr. Hahn says, holding her at an angle you can see. “Congratulations, Mom and Dad.”

Even covered in vernix and blood, your new daughter is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. A nurse places her on your chest, and the moment you feel that skin-to-skin contact with her, you’re done for. She already has you wrapped around her little finger.

The newborn continues her cries, escalating to a new pitch every time she gets another lungful of air. It’s as if she’s a royal, informing all her subjects of her many woes.

Eddie leans in and kisses your lips, the tears on your face mingling with the ones on his. When your husband pulls back to stare at his baby girl, his face is filled with awe and adoration.

“She’s here,” he whispers to no one in particular.

“Do you want to cut the cord, Mr. Munson?” Dr. Hahn asks.

Eddie reaches for the scissors a nurse is holding out to him and he has them in his hand before you could say “Ryan and Luke’s new baby sister.”

This is Eddie’s third time doing this, so he knows right where to line the scissors up even before Dr. Hahn instructs him. Eddie severs the cord and a nurse takes the baby so she can have a proper cleaning.

Neither your nor Eddie’s eyes leave the newborn as she’s swaddled up in a nice warm blanket.

“Do we have a name yet?” The nurse asks as she slides a pink hat onto the tiny baby’s head.

“Eliza,” you say proudly. Tears fill your eyes at the sound of her name out loud. Out loud now that she’s here. This precious little bean that’s been growing inside of you for so long is finally here, a real little person you get to hold and love on.

“Eliza Marie Munson,” Eddie says, the same emotions that you’re going through reflecting in his voice.

“Well, Dad,” the nurse says as she picks up Eliza and turns towards Eddie. “Would you like to hold your baby girl Eliza?”

Your husband nods emphatically, reminding you of Luke when he’s asked if he wants to go to the toy store. The nurse gently transfers Eliza to her father’s arms, and you watch as his face morphs as he holds his daughter for the first time.

“H-Hi, Eliza.” Eddie sniffs and clears his throat, trying to shove the tears away. “I can’t believe you’re finally here. I can’t believe that I actually have a daughter.” Slowly, Eddie leans in to press his lips to her soft, smooth forehead. Eliza coos and her face scrunches up adorably. “You wanna know something, Eliza? You have the best mommy in the world. And now I have the two most perfect girls in the world.”

Eddie looks up at you with a gentle smile. Tears are falling down your cheeks so rapidly that it feels like you’re playing whack-a-mole as you try to wipe them all away.

Your husband stands next to the bed and nods at you, signaling for you to ready your arms for the baby. You gladly accept the warm little bundle, and more tears begin to cascade as you gaze down at her gorgeous little face.

“Hi, baby girl. I’m your mommy.” Saying the words aloud sounds odd to your ears. Sure, you’ve basically been a mother to Luke and Ryan for years now, but you never introduced yourself to them as “mommy.” But that’s what you are, from Eliza’s first breath, you’re her mom for her entire life.

“You okay?” Eddie asks. He reaches down and rubs a warm hand against your shoulder.

“I’m wonderful,” you say. “It’s weird, though. Having Eliza from this very first moment of her life, I now wish even more that I could’ve known the boys as soon as they came into the world.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and places a kiss to the top of your head.

“Trust me, princess. This has been the least dramatic and stressful of all the kids’ births.”

You chuckle as well, and the sound seems to tickle Eliza. Her tiny head moves from side to side slowly, as if she’s shaking her head no in slow motion.

“I can’t wait for them to meet her,” you say.

“Guess I need to make a phone call home.”

The door to the hospital room clearly needs some oil as it squeaks open. Wayne steps inside, a curious Ryan in his arms. The almost-two-year-old gazes around the room with wide eyes, taking in all the unfamiliar equipment.

“Hey, you!” Eddie says as he takes the little boy from his uncle. “Did you have a good day with Grandpa?”

“Yep,” Ryan says, still taking in his new surroundings. “Play catch.”

“You played catch?” Eddie asks, his pitch rising in that faux excitement adults use when talking to young children.

“Uh huh!”

“That sounds like fun. Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re a big brother now,” Eddie tells him.

“Baby?” Ryan asks.

“Yes! Mommy had the baby. Do you want to meet him?”

Ryan nods enthusiastically, trying to look around his dad’s head to catch a glimpse of his mother. She comes into view as Eddie turns and walks towards the hospital bed, where Brittany is cradling a sleeping Luke.

Eddie gently sets his older son down on the bed next to his mom.

“Hi, Ryan,” Brittany says softly. “Come here, look at the baby.”

Cautiously, Ryan shuffles forward and peers at the blanket-wrapped bundle.

“This is your little brother, Ry,” Eddie says. “You guys are going to be best friends.”

“Do you want to hold him, Wayne?” Brittany asks, fighting back a yawn.

“‘Course.”

Brittany carefully hands him over, and Wayne looks down at his new grandson in absolute wonder.

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest baby?” Wayne says to Luke.

As the older man cradles the baby, Ryan stands up and taps his dad’s arm. Eddie hums in question and raises his eyebrows at the toddler.

“Up, up,” Ryan says, holding his arms up.

It melts Eddie’s heart that Ryan wants to be held up next to his new brother. The room is quiet, save for the echoes of hospital sounds drifting in.

Luke starts to squirm, unable to move much in his swaddled state.

“Britt?” Eddie looks over his shoulder at his wife. “Do you have the pacifier?”

“Oh, yeah.” The blue pacifier that Luke has already shown an affinity for is on the bedside table, and Brittany hands it to her husband, who pops it into the baby’s mouth. Immediately, Luke calms back down, sucking furiously as he slips back into sleep.

Ryan leans over as far as he can in his dad’s arms, peering down at his brother in awe.

“My baby,” Ryan declares.

The adults in the room chuckle.

“Can you say hi to Luke, Ryan?” Eddie asks, rubbing his hand up and down the elder boy’s back.

Ryan grins, his adorable baby teeth on display. He’s mesmerized by the new family member, and it fills Eddie with a warmth he’s never felt before. Ryan tries to lean over even more, wanting to be as close as possible.

“Hi, Luke!”

The comfortable quiet in the hospital room cocoons you, your husband, and your daughter as you all lounge in the bed. Your head rests on Eddie’s shoulder while Eliza sleeps soundly in his arms. Both of you are just staring at her, already completely wrapped around her little finger.

“She’s so beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like her mom,” Eddie replies, just as quiet.

“Her mom needs a shower,” you say. “Badly. I feel all gross after getting all sweaty.”

“You still looked gorgeous, even giving birth.” Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss to your hair.

The slight movement causes Eliza to fuss, wiggling like a little worm in her father’s grip. Her whines hurt your heart.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie coos. He lays his head against yours.

Eddie begins to hum, and you quickly recognize the song as Sweet Child O’ Mine. All it takes is a minute of her dad’s soothing tone to lull the baby girl right back to sleep.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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finelinevogue · 1 year ago

Text

notes on love

summary - harry attends the football and you attend the baftas

pairing - fiance!harry x famous!reader

word count - ~1.5k

*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*

It was the first time Harry had made a public appearance in months.

Sans a hat on his head.

After braving a shave to solidify a new chapter in his life, Harry had decided that enough was enough and he just wanted to be seen again. Gain some new publicity.

“I can’t do this.” Harry’s voice rang through your phone.

Your phone was currently propped up on the vanity in front of you, whilst your stylist gracefully worked around you to get your hair and makeup done.

“H, baby. You’re going to a football match where over half the population there will be white bald men. You’ll blend right in.”

You took a sip of your apple juice in its carton as you suppressed a laugh. Harry rolled his eyes at you, taking the joke like the good sport he is.

“I actually have more hair than them. I’m not bald anymore.”

“See! Embrace the new hair, H. You look really good.”

Harry smiled at you then, his eyes which had previously been darting between watching you and looking out the moving car window were now permanently on you.

“Not as beautiful as you, though, love.”

“Don’t even have my makeup on yet.”

“Never needed it.”

You blew him a camera kiss for those words alone.

“Where are you now?” You reached for a slice of pineapple from the bowl of fruit you’d ordered from room service.

“About five minutes away I think. Are you still in the hotel?”

“Yeah. Don’t need to be ready until 5.”

You were getting ready for the BAFTAS, which Harry had hoped to be there with you for but you’d decided to take your nan as your date instead since she wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

Harry was more than happy to let Nana, as he liked to call her, be your date to the BAFTAS. Plus, it meant that he could go see the football.

“You’re going to look so pretty.”

Harry had helped your pick out your dress, which was a sophisticated black to contrast the red carpet you’d be walking down. The dress itself was beautifully cut and shaped you in all the right places, making you look elegant and regal.

“I’m nervous.” You picked up your phone so the conversation felt a little more intimate, even though it was still over face-time.

“Why, love?”

“Don’t normally do stuff like this without you.” You pouted.

Harry wished he could kiss that pout away, “And yet the times that you do, you always end up winning! It’s like they never want you to win when i’m there.”

It was a running joke that Harry was your ‘bad luck charm’.

You didn’t believe that though. It’s just that other actors performed better and won, over you, because of it. If anything, you always won because you got to go home and drink hot tea and eat popcorn with your Harry.

“I’ll miss you.” Your face was so close to the camera that Harry could probably see up your nose.

“I miss you. Send me photos when you’re getting ready. I wanna see you before anyone else.”

“Okay.” You smiled. It was routine at this point to always show each other’s public outfits before anyone else.

“Have you got your ring?”

You held up your left hand and wiggled your ring finger in front of the camera. You blushed thinking about the moment that you got given the piece of delicate jewellery, with Harry on one knee.

“Always.”

“You going to wear it on the carpet?”

“Of course. Not going to draw attention to it though. I’ll let people discover it for themselves.”

Harry laughed at the thought. You two were practically the biggest, most A-List, celebrity couple around at the moment and so when people watch sight of you with the ring there’s no doubt it’s all people will talk about for weeks.

Someone told Harry they’d arrived at the venue, then.

“I have to go, honey, but text me updates please. Wanna see you get ready through photos, okay?”

“Okay.” You promised. “Text me to let me know you’re safely home later, please.”

Even though he was going back to his Manchester home, you still liked to know that he was safe and sound. Especially since you were in London and weren’t going to get to be with him tonight.

“Will do. I love you.” Harry kissed his fingers and then dotted them over the camera.

You returned the gesture, “I love you. Bye, bye, bye!”

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

You were just finishing getting ready and scrolling through Twitter.

Harry was trending worldwide for showcasing his new hair. His growing hair. No one had seen him like this since the end of Tour last year.

You pouted because you missed him a lot.

People were absolutely loving it. As always, a lot of people were losing their shit over Harry content. You were too, because you missed him.

“Oh, he looks so good!” Your stylist, Jamie, gasped behind you.

Jamie was currently fixing your hair and you had to say they had done an impressive job.

“I know.” You smiled to yourself.

“He looks like a sexy CEO.”

You laughed out loud at that, “When he puts on his glasses he does.” You agreed.

“Harry wears glasses?” Jamie gasped.

“Yeah, hang on..”

You started to go through your camera roll. It was only a few days ago that he had gotten new glasses, because he’d managed to lose his old ones. Typical.

You stopped on a photo of Harry sat in bed with the duvet up on his chest, a book in his lap and his glasses on. He didn’t realise you had taken the photo of him, but it was now one of your favourites.

“Oh damn…” Jamie gasped. “If your marriage ever goes south, tell him I’ll be available.”

You laughed again, shaking your head in dismissal but also approval.

You went back to Twitter to see if any of the Harrie accounts you follow have tweeted anything. You make yourself laugh as you look through their feral comments.

And just because you like to cause a riot on the internet you liked an insane tweet.

harriesmiles: the way that this photo makes me want to cling onto harry like a koala bear and never let go

It wasn’t long before you were trending with Harry.

Then the face-time call comes through from him.

“Am I done?” You asked Jamie quickly.

He nods, knowing you routine with Harry, and allows you to slip into the bathroom next to the bedroom.

You answered the call shortly after locking the bathroom door.

“Hellooo.” You said in a weird voice, feeling hyper from the Twitter craze.

“Hi, babe.” Harry was obviously outside and trying to watch where he was going, more than looking at you.

“Has the match finished?”

“Yeah.” And you honestly didn’t care enough about football to ask how it went. “Are you ready?”

Harry’s eyes flicked down to his screen momentarily, smirking when he catches sight of your glammed out makeup.

One thing Harry loved more than anything was you in a red-lip, so of course you had to make sure you had one for him - despite the fact he couldn’t kiss it off you tonight.

“What?” You giggled, watching him trying to suppress his smirk in public.

“You’re so annoying. I’m trying to act all cool and mysterious here and you’re making me smile like an idiot.”

You dipped your head and smiled, accentuating the blush that was already powdered onto your cheeks.

“H, honey, you’re walking through the streets of Manchester. No one cares about how you act. They’re probably all drunk anyways.”

“True, true.”

“Did you have a pint?” You propped your phone on the counter.

“Uh, yeah.” He said whilst trying to cross a road.

“Love, do you want to call me back when you’re at less risk of being hit by a car?” You sarcastically asked.

“No!” He yelped. “No. Needs to be now.”

You gave him a confused look but carried on regardless.

You shuffled back in the bathroom, giving him a full angle.

You watched in anticipation as Harry looked at you through his tiny screen, wishing it were ten times bigger.

“Wow.” Was all he said and you giggled like a girl having a high-school crush. “I love you so much.”

“So you like?” You swished your dress from side to side.

“Mhm. Wishing I wasn’t so far from you now.”

“Tomorrow. I’ll have all the kisses for you then.”

“Tomorrow it is, then.” Harry smirked to himself, kissing the camera.

Little did you know that tomorrow was coming a lot sooner. In fact, Harry had been running for the earliest train out of Manchester and down to London for the duration of the phone call. Because Harry was always going to show up for you.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic rec

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 5 months ago

Text

A Morning In Berlin.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist !!

authors note - this is a sister chapter to this, you don’t necessarily need to read it 🩵

word count - 2k

in which, harry and madison are in berlin, whilst your back at home in the uk working, madison’s almost turning three in april, and harry wants to spend as much time with his two year old as possible.

The café hummed with the soft clatter of cups and quiet morning conversations, a welcome warmth against the crisp air outside.

Harry stood in line, his almost three-year-old daughter, Madison, nestled securely in his arms. Her small fingers played absentmindedly with the buttons on his coat as she rested her head against his chest, her curls still slightly tousled from the stroller ride.

He had already parked the stroller at a quiet corner table, making sure everything was set before stepping into the queue. Madison was getting tired, as her morning nap was soon approaching — her tiny yawns and slow blinks proof that the morning had been an adventure already.

The barista, a friendly-looking woman with a warm smile, greeted them cheerfully.

"Good morning," Harry said, offering a dimpled grin. "Could I get a black coffee, please?"

Before the barista could respond, Madison stirred in his arms, lifting her head slightly. She rubbed at her sleepy eyes with her fist before peering up at the woman behind the counter.

“Wan… warm miiilk, peas,” she mumbled, her voice soft and dreamy.

The barista’s face melted into a gentle smile. "One warm milk? Of course!"

Harry pressed a kiss to Madison’s curls, swaying her slightly in his arms. "That sounds like a perfect choice, bug."

Madison hummed in agreement, already resting her head back against his shoulder, her little fingers now curling into the fabric of his sweater.

As the barista rang up their order, Harry chuckled softly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his daughter’s breathing against him.

“Think you might be falling back asleep on me,Maddie-Moo’s,” he murmured.

Madison barely responded, just letting out a tiny sigh, perfectly content in her daddy’s arms.

Harry carried Madison over to their table. He carefully sat down, adjusting her in his lap so she was snug against him. Her tiny hands gripped onto his sweater, her head resting against his chest as she nursed her warm milk from the small cup the barista had given her.

Harry smiled to himself, brushing a few stray curls away from her face. He could tell she was getting sleepier by the second—her long lashes fluttered lazily, her little body melting further into his.

“Getting sleepy, bug?” he murmured, rubbing her back gently.

Madison gave a tiny nod, letting out a soft hum as she sipped her milk.

Harry glanced down at his phone on the table and, with one hand, tapped the screen to call you. The familiar ringing tone buzzed in his ear for a few moments before the screen lit up with your face.

“Hey, love,” Harry greeted warmly, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

You appeared slightly out of breath, your hair still damp from your workout, dressed in your gym leggings and an oversized hoodie.

“Hey, you,” you replied, shifting the phone in your hand as you locked the front door behind you. “How’s my little munchkin?”

At the sound of your voice, Madison stirred, lifting her head slightly to peek at the screen. Her face was still sleepy, her cheeks rosy from the warmth of the café.

“Mamaaa…” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fist.

You cooed, pressing your phone closer. “Oh, baby, you look so sleepy. Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

Madison blinked slowly, nodding as she leaned back against Harry.

“Had…. warm miiilk,” she said, her voice soft and drowsy.

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“She’s just about ready to knock out, I think,” he mused, glancing down at her as she settled back into him. “Had a busy morning, haven’t we, Mads?”

Madison hummed in agreement, though her eyes were already drifting shut again.

You smiled, tucking your legs under you as you sat on the couch back home. “She looks so cozy. Wish I was there to cuddle you both. But I’m so glad you get to spend your time with her.”

These traditions were the moments Harry lived for.

Harry shifted slightly in his seat, careful not to disturb Madison as she snuggled deeper into him. Her soft breaths were steady against his chest, her tiny fingers still loosely gripping his sweater.

He glanced back at the phone, his green eyes warm as he smiled at you.

“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day then, love?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You sighed, stretching your legs out on the couch.

“Nothing too exciting,” you admitted. “Gotta go food shopping in a bit. We’re running dangerously low on snacks.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“Exactly,” you teased. “I’d never hear the end of it from you two if I didn’t restock the biscuits.”

He grinned. “You’re not wrong. We’ve raised Mads to have very high biscuit expectations.”

You laughed before tucking your feet beneath you. “And then after that, I think I’m just gonna curl up on the couch and watch some Netflix.”

Harry tilted his head. “Ooo, what’re you watching?”

“Dunno yet,” you admitted. “Might start something new, or I might just rewatch something comforting.”

Harry smirked. “So basically, you’re gonna watch Friends for the hundredth time?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight back your smile. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Predictable.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed. “What about you two? What’s on the agenda after this?”

Harry shifted the phone slightly, glancing down at Madison. “Well, before this one started dozing off, she was very adamant that we go to the toy museum.”

Your eyes lit up. “Oh, she’s gonna love that.”

“Yeah, I figured we’d head over after she wakes up,” Harry said, running a gentle hand over Madison’s back. “She was going on and on about the dolls and the trains. Kept saying, ‘Dada, choo-choo!’ over and over.”

You laughed. “That sounds about right. She’s been obsessed with trains lately.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry grinned. “She spotted one in a shop window earlier and nearly launched herself out of the stroller trying to get to it.”

“Oh god,” you chuckled. “Well, knowing her, she’s gonna try and bring half the museum home with her.”

Harry sighed dramatically. “I know. I can already see the puppy dog eyes she’s gonna give me at the gift shop.”

You smirked. “And you know you’re gonna give in.”

He scoffed. “Hey, I have some willpower.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Because last week, she asked for a teddy at the supermarket, and you told me you ‘just couldn’t say no’ while buying three of them.”

Harry groaned, tilting his head back. “Okay, okay. Maybe I’m weak.”

You laughed. “You definitely are when it comes to her.”

He shook his head with a fond smile, glancing down at Madison, who was still peacefully asleep in his arms. “Yeah… but can you blame me?”

Your heart melted at the sight of them.

“Not at all,” you murmured. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Harry grinned. “She really does, huh?”

You nodded. “And I love watching it.”

He gave you a soft look, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles on Madison’s back. “Well, she’s got both of us wrapped around her little finger.”

“Completely,” you agreed with a smile.

For a moment, you both just sat there, miles apart but completely connected. The love you shared, for each other and for your little girl, filled every space between you.

“Alright, love,” Harry murmured after a beat. “I’ll let you get on with your day. We’ll FaceTime again later, yeah?”

You nodded. “Definitely. Give Mads a kiss from me when she wakes up.”

“Already planning on it,” he said, his voice warm. “Love you, darling.”

“Love you too.”

After finishing his coffee, Harry carefully adjusted Madison in his arms before gently easing her into her stroller.

She stirred slightly but remained in a peaceful sleep, her tiny hands curled up by her face. Making sure she was snug, he pulled the blanket over her legs, tucking her in just right.

With one last glance to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Harry pushed open the café door and stepped out onto the crisp Berlin streets.

The city bustled with its usual morning energy—cyclists weaving through traffic, locals sipping their coffees outside tiny bakeries, and tourists snapping photos of the historic architecture.

Harry strolled along the pavement, taking his time as he pushed Madison’s stroller. He popped into a couple of small shops along the way, picking up a little toy train he knew she’d love and a book for himself.

The morning air was refreshing, and despite the gentle hum of city life around him, it felt peaceful—just him and his little girl, exploring together.

But as he turned onto a quieter street, a voice called out from behind him.

“Harry? Oh my God, it is you!”

He glanced up to see a young woman approaching, her phone already clutched in her hand.

“Hiya,” he greeted politely, offering a small smile as he continued walking.

“Would you mind taking a quick photo?” she asked, stepping closer.

Harry sighed softly, his tone kind but firm. “I appreciate it, love, but I’m just out with my daughter right now.”

He gestured slightly toward the stroller, making it clear he wasn’t in a position to stop.

The fan’s eyes flickered toward Madison before she pouted slightly. “Oh, please? Just one? I won’t be long, promise.”

Harry shook his head gently. “I’m really sorry, but I just wanna have a quiet morning with her.”

The fan huffed, clearly disappointed, but instead of backing off, she kept pace beside him. “I won’t tell anyone where you are, I swear. Just real quick?”

Harry exhaled through his nose, still keeping his voice steady. “I appreciate that, but no, not today.”

The fan groaned, frustration creeping into her tone. “It’s just one picture, though! I came all the way over here—”

A soft whimper cut through the air, making Harry immediately look down at the stroller. Madison shifted, her little face scrunching up as she let out a sleepy whine.

The noise, the persistent voice, the shift in atmosphere—it had disturbed her.

Harry’s brows knitted together as he crouched down, instantly switching his focus to his daughter.

“S’alright, baby,” he murmured, adjusting the blanket and rubbing her tummy gently. “Go back to sleep, love.”

Madison made another tiny noise before sucking on her thumb, her lashes fluttering as she tried to settle again.

Harry looked up, his expression now firmer as he turned back to the fan. “Look, I really need you to respect this. She’s just woken up because of all this, and that’s not fair on her.”

The fan’s face paled slightly, guilt flashing across her features. She bit her lip, glancing between Harry and Madison. “I—I didn’t mean to wake her, I just—”

Harry sighed, standing back up as he kept one hand on the stroller. “I get it, I do. But I’m asking you to please just let us be.”

The fan hesitated before finally nodding. “Okay… sorry.”

Harry gave a small nod, his jaw still tight. “Thanks.”

Without another word, he adjusted the stroller’s canopy slightly to block out some of the daylight and began walking again, keeping his steps slow and steady to soothe Madison back into sleep.

As he put distance between himself and the fan, he glanced down at his daughter, his expression softening instantly.

“Shh, it’s okay, bug,” he murmured, rubbing her little knee through the blanket. “Daddy’s got you.”

And with that, he kept walking, determined to make the rest of their morning as peaceful as possible.

271 notes · View notes

madefortherain · 4 months ago

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february fic recs ⋆ ༘⁀➷

the end of february means it’s, once again, time to shout about my favourite reads of the month! (same as last month, tagging authors i know the blogs of, but feel free to lmk if you want anything changed/removed) <3

multichapter:

Astronomia Nova by sreka (@smodernlife) - T, 35k. sirius raising harry, meets beautiful librarian remus and subsequently ruins a priceless book (meet-ugly everybody cheer!!). absolutely adored this!!

Be My Baby by pixelated (prettyremus) - M, 21k. dirty dancing au!! enough said just with that, really, but also the way queer themes are woven into the original story is so cool!

The Proctor House by @eyra - M, 5.2k, MCD. i honestly think it’s best to go into this one fairly blind. just let the beautiful writing take you where it wants to, it’s so so worth it. this one has stayed with me since i read it.

you don’t have to be alone (when you’re the place i wanna go) by @quiethauntings - E, 37k. remus reunites with his friends on a trip to the scottish highlands. nostalgia bottled into a fic! a very lovely depiction of loneliness and rekindling friendships. really beautiful!

Of Prefects, Pretence, and Precedent by Whoops_E - M, 121k. shouting this one out again because it’s now complete!!! i’m immediately diving in for a full reread. i go insane for this fic and specifically think about the grape jam chapter approximately 30 times a week.

oneshots:

nightlights by sadgeminimoon - T, 9.2k. single parent remus raising teddy, & sirius who helps out far too well. the pining!! adored this. i, too, would lose it if i came home to find sirius black doing a load of my laundry.

The Best By Far Is You by orphan_account - T, 13k. padfoot and moony are tumblr mutuals, while blind remus hires sirius as a reader for his classes. i believe this one is fairly well-known, but i only just got to it and it’s so so wonderful! there are also 7 more shorter oneshots (ratings vary) following this, all of which i subsequently inhaled. really recommend the entire Tumblr Trash series! (E, 35k total)

Perfect by wanderingdonut - T, 3.7k. ace4ace wolfstar learning to love each other :’) such a wonderful acespec story, i adored this <3

A Cup of Sugar by MsAlexWP (@languagelessonswolfstar) - T, 5.3k. harry pov feat. disabled harry and disabled remus (bonding!!). so sweet, such great disability rep, and adorable little peeks of wolfstar! loooved this!!

WIPs:

Let me Believe (Ever After) by @brigid-faye - M, 6/12, 47k. ever after: a cinderella story (1998) au! sad-eyed prince remus, riches to rags sirius. such great characterisations, relationships, and storytelling. i devoured these chapters so quickly!

Brave Face by @zoemillinwrites - M, 28/?, 252k, MCD. a canon-divergent, sirius-centric fic starting in hogwarts first year. such real and raw characters, being a little in love with your friends, and some of the cleverest, most unique magic explanations i’ve ever read. seriously, can’t emphasise enough how SO insanely cool the magic is!! (also shouting out the accompanying Story Shards WIP (E, 1/?, 4.3k) for some brilliant extra character studies!)

four thousand holes by aeridi0nis (@steelycunt) - E, 2/5, 41k. pride (2014) au. lesbians and gays support the miners; sirius is part of the organisation, remus is the son of a miner. truly so so obsessed with this premise. and the writing!! incredible, incredible prose.

As You Walk On By (Will You Call My Name?) by @imsiriuslyreading - M, 6/15, 23k, jily!!!! royalty au AND university au in one! royal james and eat-the-rich lily, creating such a fun jily dynamic. + a lovely dose of background wolfstar, too :)

#fic recs #wolfstar fic recs #+ one jily!#recent reads #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar #marauders #monthly rec lists #rain’s recs

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strwbabydoll · 5 months ago

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Chapter Five: Baby, Kiss It Better

pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

chapter summary: She can't remember what all happened last night and Harry is different. She only remembers when she sees his face during their study session and Harry's seemingly drastic change fucks with her head.

series summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this toh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

001 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

word count: 4.4k

- - - -

Y/N woke up to a pounding in her head, the pain throbbing as she sat up in her bed. She rubs her eyes and turns her head, spotting the small bottle of pain relievers and a cup of water that sits on her bedside table. She doesn't remember setting that out before she set out for Leya's house, in fact she can't even remember what all happened last night.

She knows she danced with Leya, had a couple of drinks, and she might've talked to Harry for a brief moment but everything else is a blur inside of her tired and hungover brain. She can't stop the yawn that escapes through her lips, so she stretches her arms over her head and stands up. She can't help but to frown at the feel of the cold wooden floor against her bare feet, she shuffles across the room to her dresser and quickly opens a drawer and grabs the first pair of socks that she can see.

She makes her bed, her eyes squinting against the harsh sun rays that beam through her bedroom window onto her face. After she's through, she grabs her phone and hisses at the intensity of the brightness, so she quickly turns it down so she can check her notifications. She can see several messages and a couple missed calls from Leya, the texts express how sorry she is about leaving her and how worried she was when she couldn't find her - it's repetitive really, the same wording just different ways of putting them together. She can also see several other irrelevant notifications as her thumb scrolls down the list before she spots a singular message from Harry simply reminding her of their study session today.

She can't help but to furrow her eyebrows at that, he's never been one to care so why would it matter for her to remember their session? She simply responds with an 'ok' before she's back at her dresser, quickly grabbing a pair of light washed skinny jeans and a gray sweater so she can get dressed. Quickly doing her routine and throwing back the pain pills and chasing it with the water before she's on the way out the door.

The sun shines bright against her eyes and she frowns as she steps out of the house and onto her bike. She gently removes the cord locking her bike in place and puts it in her tote bag and pushes her bike forward. She begins to pedal her way down the street, smiling politely at the passerby and little kids. Her head is killing her with every movement and light and she can't help but to frown mentally before she stops at a small grocery store, parking her bike in front and not bothering to tie it down. She quickly walks inside and greets the lady standing there, flashing her as warm of a smile as she can manage and heading to the juice aisle.

She quickly grabs a small bottle of orange juice and heads to the register, smiling at the lady checking her out and hands her the money. She's in and out of the store in less than five minutes, eager to get this day over with and to be in her bed as soon as possible. So she hops back on her bike and begins her journey to her school once more. The breeze fanning through her hair and on the few exposed parts of skin brings her a sense of peace,

She can't help but to smile against the breeze as the trees and buildings pass her by as she pedals her way down the street. Her head doesn't seem to hurt as bad, the throbbing has dulled and she can't help but to smile as she remembers to thank Harry if he's the one that took her home. She can make out the school's silhouette beginning to form in the distance so she pedals faster.

- - - -

She's walking out of her third period class, her hand massaging her forehead softly from all the lights and loud talking that surrounded her. The chatter that fills the halls does nothing to ease her headache either, it's not as loud but loud enough to make her groan in response as she shuts her eyes tightly.

"Hey babes, I don't think that'll ease the headache or make it go away." She shakes her head and opens her eyes only to be greeted with her best friend's face in front of her.

"I know it won't be Leya. I knew playing with you was a bad idea." There's a playful tone in her voice to show she's not upset.

Leya shakes her head with a small smile on her lips.

"Yeah yeah, I'm sure it was so horrible. Pretty sure that's the most fun I've seen you having and the most carefree ever. I don't regret it. But I am sorry for leaving, I saw you go to the bar and I figured it'd be okay for a couple minutes. You could've gotten me and I would've taken you home!" Y/N can't help but to smile softly at her best friend before resting her hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean to leave me, I'm a little upset but I'll get over it. I got home safely and you did too, that's all that matters." Leya can't help but to shake her head gently and she frowns.

Y/N knows Leya's blaming herself for last night so she wraps her in a tight hug.

"Harry took me home I think, he’s the last person I can remember talking to. It’s all such a blur, but I'm okay. Don't beat yourself up. I'm the one who left you, so it's on me. We're good, I'm mostly upset at myself honestly." Y/N chuckles softly at her best friend's shocked expression.

"You mean Harry that despises your existence, that Harry? He took you home?" Y/N nods her head and Leya smiles really big as she wiggles her eyebrows at the blushing girl.

"It’s not for certain! I was pretty far gone, and I can barely remember the events of the night. Let's get to class before you make me late." She says and makes her way forward, attempting to change the topic or avoid the whole Harry situation in general.

The chatter of the students still lingering in the hallways fade from her focus, slowly becoming just a faint background noise to the two girls. Y/N knows that she can't avoid this topic forever and that her friend's bound to bring it up sooner than she'd like, but she just wants a sense of normalcy as of right now. The air inside the school is cold against the back of her neck causing goosebumps to rise in its wake, she can see the different groups mingle together in the hallways as they make the most of the time before the bell rings. The bright fluorescent lights reflect on the tiled floor as they travel down the hall, arms brushing against one another before Leya gingerly intertwines their hands together and begins to swing their conjoined hands.

As they walk hand in hand, Y/N sees no sign of Harry in the halls nor can she hear him, his distinctive loud voice isn't booming in the halls which is concerning given the fact that he made sure to remind her of their study session, so why can't she find a hint of him being at school? She's not actively looking for him, there's no reason for her to be. It's just gotten normal for her to hear his laugh from down the hallway or to see his figure leaning against a locker as he kisses whatever girl he's managed to catch for the day. She's become so used to his banters and smart remarks that it's strange to walk down the crowded halls and have him not be a part of it.

She's so in her head about the absence of Harry that she doesn't realize Leya's stopped a little ways behind her until she bumps shoulders with another student and mumbles a soft 'excuse me' and turns around to scold her friend for not letting her know. She's met with an amused smile resting on her friend's lips as she attempts to hold back her laughter. She shakes her head at herself as she makes her way back over to her friend. She keeps her head down to avoid all the stares watching her knowing she missed the door to her classroom.

"Daydreaming again?" Leya asks with amusement laced in her voice, the smile never leaving her lips while Y/N's face begins to turn a very faint shade of red.

"Fuck off Leya. I wasn't daydreaming, just wasn't paying attention." The same amusement is in her tone as well, indicating she's not upset with the girl in front of her. They both giggle as they wrap each other in their arms, sharing a brief hug before Leya departs with a soft kiss to Y/N's temple and waving her goodbye.

As Y/N walks into her fourth period class, she can't stop her eyes from wandering over all of the chairs as she heads towards an empty chair near the middle of the classroom. The teacher greets Y/N with a polite smile and she waves as she reciprocates the smile.

- - - -

The day passes rather quickly for Y/N as she walks out of her last class of the day, clutching her tote bag strap that rests on her shoulder and the gray fabric bumps against her hip with every step she makes as she heads down the very crowded hallway, weaving through the groups of students stopped in the hallway making idle conversation with their friends and the various teachers standing in front of their doors yelling at said students to go home. She can't help but to feel a bubble of nervousness begin to form in the pit of her stomach and worm its way to her chest and the idea of her and Harry being in close proximity of each other after whatever happened between them last night, the memories of the night before are still a blur in her head.

Her legs carry her outside of the school building and to the right, passing a very small group of students huddled together talking amongst themselves with low voices, the few straggles of flowers littering the grass surrounding the school and she can't help her eyes from wandering to them as she passes, a soft smile placed on her lips from the beauty of each individual flower. The sun shines bright in the sky, the warm rays shining through the leaves in the trees and warms her face as she passes through.

She walks up the steps and through the tall glass door, inhaling deeply and smiling as the smell of old books and is that a hint of vanilla she smells? She shrugs it off slightly before making her way to the back of the building to her designated table, away from prying ears and eyes but not hidden enough to cause suspicion from the librarian. The air inside of the building is cold thanks to the air conditioning running full blast to battle the warmer weather outside and she's grateful for her choice of clothing for the day.

She sets her tote bag on the back of the chair and pulls her new worksheet, her books and her binder full of paper out and places them on the table, setting them in order of what she'll use the most. She grabs her phone and checks the time, she's only a couple of minutes earlier than the time she arrived last time and if she knows Harry, he's gonna be late as always so in order to pass the time she quickly gets up to walk around the library and grabs a copy of Pride and Prejudice from the shelves and makes her way back to her table. Once she's fully settled and as comfortable as she can manage in the wooden chair, she opens the book and begins to read.

Harry can’t get the feeling of her lips pressed against his out of his head, and he’s upset about that. He can’t stop the imaginary feeling of her lips pressed against his, can’t stop imagining what would happen if he didn't pull away. He can’t stop the replay of that obnoxiously cute nervous giggle she let out afterwards. He’s been trying to think of literally anything to try to redirect his mind, but it’s no use. That one moment always forces itself back in the front of his brain, it’s incredibly irritating if you ask him.

He doesn’t understand why his brain is keeping that memory and torturing him with it, doesn’t understand why it’s seemingly a big deal. It’s not in any way and he wishes his brain and body could get the idea. He also doesn’t understand why he has a bottle of orange juice in his hand and it’s not for him, it’s for her. He woke up from a dream where he indulged in that kiss, allowed himself to memorize the taste of her lips, he was grumpy afterwards because what the actual fuck was that?

Something told him to grab something for the sure hangover she’s bound to have, he’s going with the idea that he won’t have as much fun if she’s the one who’s cranky and irritable because she has a hangover, no other reason.

It seems no matter how many times she's read this book, it never gets boring. She's gotten so into the book that she's managed to read a good chunk of the book as a couple stray tears have fallen down her cheeks, she sniffles as she wipes them with her sleeve. She figures she's read enough so she begins to close the book and grab her phone to check the time when she hears his voice behind her.

"Sorry m'late." She can't help but to jump slightly with his voice so near to her ear, she can hear him chuckle slightly as she turns around to face him.

It's as if seeing his face brings back every second of last night, flashbacks whirs through her brain at a fast pace and she can't help the heat that rushes to her cheeks. Images of her dancing with Leya, the drink challenge, the bartender that was clearly flirting with her, losing Leya, Harry helping her find her best friend, him taking her home after finding out Leya was hooking up with some guy, her calling Harry pretty- oh this is really fucking bad, he has all the ammunition against her now- and the accidental kiss. She quickly turns her head to face in front of her, she's sure her face is beet red and she feels hot all over. She's embarrassed and she can't believe herself. He sits down beside her and he can't help his gaze from peeking over to her and he has to bite back a laugh.

"Everything ok? Y'look like you've seen a ghost Y/N." It's her turn to be the quiet one, she can only hum in agreement, her gaze never refusing to leave the middle of the wall. He slides a bottle of orange juice over to her, just close enough to catch her attention. He watches as she tenses up with his hand growing closer and he shakes his head.

"Figured y'might need it, it helps with hangovers - at least it did with mine." She only nods dazedly in response and he chuckles.

It's almost as if a switch has flipped overnight because the Harry that's sitting next to her is not the one she's been dealing with for years and she's unable to figure out how to go about this, she can't help but to bite her bottom lip nervously as she turns her gaze to the worksheets in front of her.

"Thought I was supposed to be the one that's quiet, Y/N. Are you okay? If we need to do this another-" He's interrupted by her turning her gaze to him and clearing her throat.

"We.. We kissed. You were.. you were nice and I'm just confused and nervous and none of it makes any sense." He shakes his head at her and runs his head through his long brown locks.

"Yeah no big deal though, you were shitfaced and didn't need anything happening to you before my exams. You gotta make sure I pass so I can get the hell outta here." He smiles softly before leaning over to look at the worksheets. She shakes her head and she can't help the frown beginning to form on her lips and the furrow that appears in between her eyebrows.

She can't stop wondering why he isn't upset or at least worried about it, he's always been so big on the fact that he doesn't like her so why isn't this a big deal to him. Why doesn't this matter to him as much as it matters to her?

"Get out of your head. I promise it's not gonna change anything, it's done. It's in the past, now aren't these the same sheets we did last time?" Her head is swimming with all of the flashbacks and the quick whiplash from Harry's behavioral change. She sighs and shakes her head to try to rid the thoughts in her head so she can focus.

She pushes the worksheets closer to Harry with a small smile.

"Uh, yeah. They are the same for the first half, I want to see if you actually paid attention and did some work after you left." Harry frowns and scoffs at that before the corners of his mouth begin to tug upwards and he covers his mouth with his hands, Y/N's eyes can't help but to stare at the new ring on his finger. It's nothing special and really shouldn't matter to her but something just draws her attention, she can make out a glimpse of some small letters engraved in cursive on the silver ring. Harry catches her gaze and removes his hand and clears his throat.

"In your words exactly, the only way to pass this test is for me to actually work with you, unless you wanna do it all for me and I just study it." His voice has taken the same playful tone from last night and she can't help the blood that rushed to her cheeks at the seemingly painful reminder.

She tilts her head down in an attempt to shield her face from Harry's gaze and she can hear him chuckle softly from beside her.

"You have to do the work, it won't do you any good just to memorize anything. You'll never actually learn anything." She shakes her head softly, her gaze still focused on the table as she speaks. The air has changed, it's charged with awkward tension - the electric kind that's hard to ignore for long periods of time. The one that feels as if it's burning her skin, the silence is deafening between them. It’s completely different from the last bit of silence, uncomfortable in two different ways. While the last one was suffocating and clawing at her, this one burns her skin and heat licks at her skin.

"Outta your head now, c'mon. Do we need to reschedule?" His voice is quiet, much softer than she's used to and it only makes it worse, she shakes her head softly before tilting her head back up to look at him.

She can't help but to gaze into his emerald green eyes, mapping out every detail of his face - the way his eyelashes brush against his cheeks, the viridescent irises and his soft pink lips. She clears her throat because she can't allow herself to be thinking of him like that, at the end of the day he's still him and she knows that he hasn't changed at all. As much as she wishes this could be the new normal minus the tension, she highly doubts he's magically changed overnight. She turns her focus to the worksheets and opens the textbook to the correct page, the soft crinkling of the pages as she flips through them fills the space between them.

Once she's fully settled, she turns her gaze back to Harry and smiles softly.

"Do you think you can do this worksheet for me? Just don't wanna go over anything you already know or remember." Her voice is quiet, just above a whisper as she speaks as if she's sharing a secret and he shrugs.

"Y'got a pen?" She nods before reaching one arm into her tote bag and blindly searches for a pen. It takes a couple of seconds before she finally pulls one out and hands it to him. He takes the one from her and frowns at the small shock that happens between their fingertips as they graze one another. He chooses to slide his seat just a little bit away from her - he needs space from whatever weird energy is filling the air surrounding them, before he tilts his head down and brings the pencil to the paper.

He exhales briefly before beginning to write out the answers, some coming to him quickly while others he struggles to remember what the book says. The faint sound of pencil scratching against the paper mixes in with the sound of the air conditioning blowing and the soft whispers as their peers communicate about projects and books, he can't help but to sneak a glance over to Y/N just to find that she's already looking at him. He averts his gaze quickly and back to the paper, a frown beginning to form on his lips in response. He doesn't know what's gotten into him, the urge to actually do something is stronger than him causing him to willingly do what she says.

Once he's done, he slides the paper back to Y/N and keeps his gaze on the paper. He can barely make out the outline of her fingers pulling the sheet of paper back to her in the corner of his eye and his frown deepens. The silence has grown even louder, it's banging against their shoulders with every passing moment. Y/N swears she can hear the sound of her own heart beating in her chest. She hates this tension - scratch that, she hates every tension that they have between this one, but especially this one. The tension between them is so electrically charged, thick and heavy and she can’t stand it. She’s fucking confused and annoyed, but it seems shes always at least annoyed with Harry so this should be normal for her.

She doesn’t understand why this session is so much different than any of the others, obviously the kiss that couldn’t technically be considered a kiss might have something to do with it. She just doesn’t understand why the session is so bad and full of tension over something so small, it’s like a flip was switched overnight. The quietness of the library doesn’t help with it either, it makes it worse because there’s barely any sound happening and it just keeps tugging at the string between them.

She doesn’t understand why he’s being nice to her all of a sudden. Sure she has a hangover, and she might be a little on the grumpy side and the kiss keeps replaying through her head but it can’t be considered a kiss! Her emotions are just all over the place and Harry decides to suddenly start to tolerate her and be nice to her is definitely not helping the situation. She thinks this has to be a scheme or some trick to her. That definitely fits his nature, being nice only to get some personal gain because he doesn’t seem to think about anyone else but himself. The sound of someone clearing their throat next to her alerts her out of her mind, she turns her head as if to apologize for maybe speaking her thoughts aloud and she’s only met with Harry staring at her.

His brows are furrowed but there’s no frown on his face, he kind of looks concerned… His eyes shine just a little bit, an emotion she’s never seen before swirls through his irises and she knows right there that she’s not immune to his charm. All these years of bickering and hating on the other, the snarky remarks and shoves and bumps and she still thinks he’s beautiful.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” His voice is soft, just a breath above a whisper as he speaks and the girl feels like she needs to cry. She doesn’t under why all this is happening and she hates that it’s jumbling up her brain.

“I’m fine, I just think I need to go home.” She says as she closes the text book. She needs to lay in bed and scream into her pillow for a little bit, find something to unjumble her brain. She needs to get away from him and whatever parasite or evil scheme he has in his brain, to remember just exactly who he is.

She begins to pack her things up, she figures Harry won’t care either way; thinks he’d be glad to be away from her.

“Well, did you want to reschedule?” Harry asks and she shakes her head, they’ve covered enough during this session.

“It’s okay, we can continue where we left off next time.” Harry only offers her a barely there smile after he speaks, this can’t be him. He must’ve gotten abducted and cloned, or something of the sort cause this makes absolutely no sense.

She only nods in response as she finishes packing the rest of her things up, telling him bye as she rushes out the door and down the hall. Her mind seems to race a mile a minute; she’s never been good at accepting change, especially drastic changes like whatever happened to Harry overnight. She excuses herself as she tries not to bump into the people littering the halls and pushes the main doors open as she races to her bike. Her scrambled mind is focused on Harry and getting home, and she can only do something about one of those so she unlocks her bike and begins to pedal home. She wishes Harry didn’t affect her this much, to send her spiraling over something so simple and unimportant. When she finally reaches her apartment, she rushes to lock her bike and heads inside. She’s eager to curl up in bed and forget this day ever happened, to forget Harry’s odd behavior and the way it seemed to fuel that tiny spark she held onto for years.

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