Anon: I NEED YOU TO WRITE A MAKING OUT WITH TEN OMGGGGG I LOVE YOUR WRITING SOO MUCH *dying after reading making out with Johnny* 😍😍😍😍😍😍
Anon: I NEEEDDD YOU TO WRITE MAKING OUT WITH TEN OMGGGG I LOVE YOUR WRITING 😍😍😍😍😍
Anon: Hello ^^ can I request a “making out with…” for Hansol and Ten? Thanks (:
Anon: Please do a “making out with Ten” when you have time >
Hey Anon! Thank you for requesting 😅💓I was going to do Mark or Yuta before Ten for this series but since Ten isn’t around atm (let’s all cry together ok) and I thought I should remind people that hE STILL EXISTS OKAY enjoy.
Ahhh Ten - the lost boy
Those selcas are flyyyyyy though omg
Anyway, I’ll try to make this good to make up for his absence ok!
There’d be a lot of skinship and affection before he initiated the kiss
Playful and teasing skinship at that
He’d always love hearing your laugh after telling you some stupid pun
A wide grin would form on his face and he’d admire how your head would always bob whenever you laugh
Giving you a sweet and innocent kiss on the forehead, before leaning down to give you a light Eskimo kiss
He wouldn’t pull away - usually a sign for you, that he wanted something lol
You couldn’t help but admire him up close
For you, he was literally the most beautiful male you had ever seen in your life
And for him, you were the most precious thing on the planet and he couldn’t believe he really had you
His arm would wrap loosely around your waist, slipping it under your shirt so he could touch your skin
He’d start by giving you light kisses, pressing them on the corners of your mouth
Smiling happily in between them
Hovering over your mouth, teasing you slightly and giggling if you tried to kiss him
And he’d react by pulling away
Only to come back and do it again
The gap between you would soon close and he’d waste no time in placing his mouth over yours
His hands would move all over your body, as if they were attached to you
Gliding from your waist, to your hips, to the nape of your neck and cheeks
The kiss would soon turn uber deep veryyyy quickly
His mouth would open and he’d trace the outline of your lips lightly with his tongue
Biting your lip occasionally to try and elicit a moan from you
Which would always and easily happen lmao
You’d break the kiss to kiss his jaw or neck or collarbones which he’d just love
And he’d throw his head back and pant heavily
Before tilting your head up again with his finger and re-initiating the kiss
His kisses would be hungry and could easily get rough
If you were standing up, he’d push you against a wall and hold your wrists and placing them above your head
He’d just like being kinky like that lol
If you were sitting down, you’d end up on his lap very quickly and he’d grab your hips harshly in his hands
And if he was feeling frisky (oooOOOooOOOooooOoooOo) he’d raise his hips slightly wanting some friction between you two
He’d whine if he didn’t get it, a few angry groans coming from his lips
You’d get the message, and, instead of helping him, you’d break the kiss and start getting up just to tease him
And his eyes would widen and he’d grab your wrist pulling you back on to him and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist
He’d grind against you, his lips still pressed against yours, enjoying the little pants that were starting to escaping from you
His kisses would be wet and sloppy but that wouldn’t mean that they’re any less meaningful
Sometimes you’d have to stop in order to wipe your mouths a bit
Which would make you both laugh a lot
I know I didn’t do this for any other the other members but the taste of his lips - knew that was something I always forget to mention
Ten’s lips would be minty and citrusy
He’d be the type to chew gum a lot
And also have lemon cough sweets
So his lips would taste kinda sickly but they were addictive nevertheless
Ten would also love threading his fingers through your hair
It was one of his favourite things about you in general
And yeah, maybe he’d always be teasing you about how much it shreds and gets in his mouth
Really it’s his weakness
His fingers would bunch your hair, feeling the warmth of the underlayers and smiling slightly into the kiss
Don’t be surprised if you find a plait or braid or numerous in your hair afterwards lol
Making out would be a fairly weekly thing
Not too often and not too rare
To be honest, he’d always look forward to your next session
And you couldn’t say you didn’t feel the same way
Basically, making out with Ten was like drinking or smoking - it’s an addiction
Candlelight flickered across the table, the dim light casting dark shadows across Vegeta’s sharp features. His dark brows were pulled together, fingers drumming restlessly on the wooden dinner table. The waiter had long since kept his distance, especially after he’d asked Vegeta if he was ready to order for the fourth time. If looks could burn holes the waiter would probably be nothing more than a pile of ash. He was waiting for his business associate. She was late. As always. Of course.
Punctuality was not Bulma Briefs strong suit. She was the most gorgeous thing on two legs (and he’d be damned if he EVER admitted that out loud) but hell did he hate how she always kept him waiting. They had an important business dealing to discuss and already forty minutes had been wasted. Growling, he pulled out his smart phone to see if she’d returned his last text. She hadn’t.
“Woman, I swear on everything in me I will go to your house and drag you out screaming and naked.”
He’d thought it at least made his point. Surprisingly, as he was watching the screen the response icon appeared, the tiny bubbles of her incoming text taunting him. The phone pinged with its arrival, and her answer made him roll his eyes:
“Is that a promise hot stuff? ;)”
Vegeta groaned. He HATED when she did that. He furiously text back, “Damnit Briefs you’re almost an hour late. I’ve got shit to do tonight.”
“Oh really, like what?”
His fingers stilled over the screen. She had him there. He lived alone and truth be told he would probably just watch tv and head to bed after jacking off. Bulma didn’t need to know that though. “Since when is my personal life any of your business? Just get your late ass here already. I’m fucking starving.”
“Rude. I’m speak-texting from my cars bluetooth. I’m parking right now. Order me a drink okay?”
“Gin and tonic, extra lemon.”
“You know me so well ;)”
Vegeta was slightly unnerved that he knew her favorite drink by heart. He told himself it was because that’s all she ever ordered; but that was far from the truth. Over the past year that they’d worked together, he found himself paying far much attention to her. More than he had any woman. He’d been hired as Capsule Corps private lawyer, and over the past year had worked pretty much solely with Dr. Briefs and his pesky daughter. Dr. Briefs was planning on retiring within the coming year and wanted to make sure that all of the I’s were dotted and T’s were crossed. Bulma was to be his successor and she’d be a damn good one in Vegeta’s opinion.
That is if she could be on time for once in her life.
He waved the waiter back over, the young man turning a shade of green at finally being addressed by the dark haired stranger at the corner table.
“Gin and tonic, extra lemon,” Vegeta muttered, “and make sure it’s here within the next three minutes.”
“I-I’ll see what I can do-”
A twenty dollar bill was shoved into the waiters sweaty hand, “Three. Minutes.” Vegeta punctuated, “Times ticking.”
The poor server was practically trembling, “A-anything else for you sir?”
Vegeta pondered a moment, “Whiskey, on the rocks. There’ll be another twenty if you can get those here in the two minutes and thirty-four seconds you have left.”
Quicker than Vegeta had seen anyone move, the young man dashed towards the bar, nearly running into the blue haired woman who had just walked in the door.
He would tell himself it was because he stood up to quick that his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the tight fitting, knee length red dress she was wearing. It also wasn’t the black shawl with fur lined hood framing her face. It wasn’t the way she was shaking off her wet umbrella. And it CERTAINLY wasn’t the way she looked around the restaurant, finally catching his eyes and grinning at him.
Nope. Not those things at all.
He put on his best scowl as she approached him, the gawking stares of other men in the restaurant unabashedly watching her rear end sway with every step she took in her black heels. To his secret, guilty pleasure however she paid them no mind. She was walking towards him alone. Her sky blue eyes locked on his black, full lips still smiling just for him-
“Bout fucking time.” He snapped.
And the spell was broken.
Bulma’s face fell, that tiny line he adored appearing between her eyebrows, “Well hello to you too, grouchy.”
Inwardly he cursed himself. Having no filter was often more a curse than it was a blessing. Even though she was still frowning at him he edged around her to pull out her chair, “Was there traffic?” He asked gruffly.
“Some,” she said, removing her shawl. Vegeta took it from her and laid it on top of his coat, “I got caught up in the lab earlier. And then I wanted to make sure I looked nice for our date.”
Vegeta froze, mouth slacking. Bulma however was far more interested in the drink being placed in front of her, “Thank you!” She smiled at the server.
The whiskey was slid over to Vegeta, the waiter looking like he’d just run a marathon, “Sorry it’s a minute late sir-”
Suddenly, Vegeta could hear again. He blinked, mumbled a few choice words and handed the man another twenty dollar bill.
Bulma sucked on the lemon wedge garnishing her glass, watching the exchange with great interest. After their server was gone, she raised a brow and asked “What was that about?”
“Just making sure we got the drinks quickly.” Vegeta could feel his cheeks flushing, “Look, I’m sorry but did you call our business meeting a date?”
“Mmmhmmm,” she mumbled around the lemon wedge she was still sucking on.
Suddenly Vegeta’s neck felt hot, “Look Briefs, I don’t known how you’ve deluded yourself into thinking this was anything but a meeting between two coworkers, but this is so not a date.”
He was never quite sure how she did it, but Bulma always had this way of looking right through him. Being a good lawyer meant having a good poker face, and Vegeta always had believed his was the best in the business. It’s how he acquired his own law firm at 25 and had been successful ever since. But this infuriating woman could see through him as easy as a pane on glass.
She removed the lemon wedge from her lips, smirk causing the corner of her mouth to turn up, “Really?”
“Yes woman,” Vegeta hissed, “not every single man in the world has to fall at your feet. Your imagination is almost as big as your ego.”
Frowning, Bulma dropped the drained lemon wedge on her napkin, “Hey no need to get nasty. Usually when you call me to a business meeting it’s at the lab. Not some swanky restaurant. Forgive me for assuming this was supposed to be something else.” She dropped her eyes back to the table, grabbing a complimentary piece of bread from the basket.
Vegeta exhaled through his nose. He and his big mouth. She had him there. When he needed to talk to her about something he would usually catch her in the lab. He wasn’t lying when he said he had business things to discuss, but well…
He sighed, then reached out and grabbed the back support of her dinner chair, dragging the whole piece of furniture and Bulma closer to him. It made an obnoxious scraping noise, but he really didn’t care. When she was within whispering range, he leaned over and muttered, “Sorry.”
Her eyelashes were so long he realized as they blinked at him, the crinkles beside her eyes betraying her smile, “It’s alright tough guy.”
Vegeta allowed himself a small lip twitch. That is until a shaky voice on the other side of the table asked, “Are you ready to order-”
It was Bulma who spoke when she realized Vegeta’s jaw muscle had tensed, “Just get us whatever the specials are tonight; he will have a beef item, rare and I’ll have chicken if it’s available.”
The waiter, as if sensing his impending doom slowly backed away, not fully turning until he’d reached the kitchen.
Bulma pinched Vegeta’s cheek, “Could you please try and not eat the wait staff? Poor guy looks like he’s about to pee his pants.”
Vegeta pulled his face away from her fingers, “it would serve that obnoxious little shit right. He’s worse than a flea.”
“Vegeta,” she warned, “please be nice. For once?”
“Tch.” He scowled and pulled out his phone, pulling up the business documents he needed to go over with her, “Whatever.”
Bulma sighed, and then took a sip of her gin and tonic, “In any case, you look nice. I like you in navy. I’ve never seen that sweater before; is it new? Sure this isn’t a date?”
Vegeta felt his blood pressure rising, the sweater was in fact new, “Woman please…”
“Just saying, you invite me to dinner which you’ve never done before…”
“Briefs I swear-”
“And you’re dressed like a GQ model with that tight navy sweater and black pants…”
“Please stop talking now-”
“And you took my shawl for me…”
“I am never being nice to you again.”
“You even know my favorite drink,”
“It’s all you ever have when you drink alcohol.”
“Pretty good memory if you ask me.”
Vegeta scowled, cheeks burning bright red, “Anyways, here are the documents your father wanted you to look over.” He slid his phone to her, “when you stop talking maybe we can actually get some work done.”
Bulma sighed, then picked up the phone, “Fine, fine. Maybe you should start drinking. You’d be more fun then.”
Eyes narrowed, Vegeta picked up his highball and took a sip. Bulma’s gaze danced across the screen of his phone, finger brushing up so she could read the rest of the document. They were both silent for several minutes when he saw Bulma’s eyes widen.
“What?” He asked.
She flipped the phone around, and Vegeta was horrified to see she was in his pictures folder. The image now on the screen was her, bent over in the lab studying a blueprint. Her long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen, face concentrated on whatever she was looking at.
Vegeta paled. He’d taken that the other day and obviously without her consent. She’d called him to say she’d bought him a sandwich and invited him down to eat. Vegeta never turned down food, or a chance to be with her whenever possible. She’d soon forgotten her own sandwich, getting wrapped up in her own brilliant mind and began redesigning a space pod. He watched her in content silence and thought she’d never looked more beautiful. So he secretly took a picture, obviously never imagining she would see it.
And now Bulma was staring at him with a confused expression and he guilty snatched the phone from her hand, shoving it in his pocket and looking away, “We’re done here.”
He made a movement to get up, but stilled momentarily when he felt her grab his hand, “Vegeta, stop it.” She insisted, “Can you quit trying to run away and talk to me?” The fingers on his hand tightened, and he slowly felt his resolve waning. What was he supposed to say? What did she want him to say? That she was right? Because she was, partly. He’d wanted to impress her, not necessarily on purpose but he figured having her alone for once might help. However, he was just a lawyer and former street kid. He’d brought himself up from nothing; had survived by the skin of his teeth doing less than legal things and the only thing that spurred him on was his pride.
She was the complete opposite. Bulma’s family was wealthy and she was used to the best things in life. She could have anyone she wanted. What chance did he have with her? Why was he even trying? Eyes closed tightly, he made the hardest decision of his life and snatched his hand away and stormed out the door as Bulma looked on, hurt; the food just being brought out and laid onto the table.
The channels on the television flipped robotically, Vegeta not really watching anything. It had been a bad night. Already stripped out of that new sweater, he sat on the couch shirtless and in sweat pants. How could he face her in the morning? He’d already drafted a resignation letter, more than prepared to walk in and slam it down on her desk right when he walked through Capsule Corps door.
Temper flaring, he pitched the remote into the wall. The flimsy plastic broke apart, batteries flying across the room. He was such an idiot. He’d just ruined the best thing in his life in less than an hour. Vegeta supposed he could easily open his firms doors again and pray his reputation wouldn’t be too soiled, but the promise of a paycheck was the furthest thing from his mind. All he really wanted was her, pressed up against his side as the two of them watched television together. His damn pride was his biggest asset and hinderance sometimes.
A light knock came on his front door.
His head turned slightly, brows furrowing. Who the hell would be knocking on his door at ten o clock at night? Beside him, his phone buzzed, the preview of a text flashing across he lock screen:
“Hey, open the door.”
It was Bulma’s name. His jaw tightened, hand twitching as he fought the urge to reply.
Bzz: “VEGETA, come on. Please?”
He exhaled through his nose and stormed to the door, throwing it open. There she was. Still in her red dress and shawl, a takeout bag in hand and his coat draped over her arm. She blinked, eyes roaming over his heavily muscled bare chest, “Oh, uh, hi.”
Forearm pressed against the doorframe, he sighed, “What is it Briefs?”
Bulma cleared her throat, trying in vain to take her eyes off his muscles, “Uh, you forgot your jacket. And I got the food to go. Maybe we can eat it here and talk?”
Scowling, Bulma pushed past him and into the living room, “Please, can we not play this game anymore? It’s getting old.”
Vegeta rolled his eyes, but followed her to the couch where she had already started laying out the food on his coffee table, “Woman, this really isn’t neces-”
“I didn’t know you did jujitsu!” She interrupted, skittering off to look at a picture on his wall, “Wow! That explains the muscles. It looks like your standing with a big trophy! But who’s that spikey haired guy with the bigger trophy -”
“Bulma,” Vegeta hissed, “what the fuck are you doing here? It’s late. I’m tired. And we have work in the morning.”
She turned, hands on her hips, “You should have thought about that before you ran away from our date!”
“For the love of…Bulma it wasn’t a date.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling?” Within a few steps she was in front of him, blue eyes burning into him, “Why would you invite me out to dinner? Why would you buy a new sweater? It still had the price tag on the back collar, so don’t even pretend like you’ve had it forever. And why was there a picture of me in your phone?”
“Why the fuck were you going through my pictures anyway?” He growled, “You’re looking far into it Briefs.”
Bulma’s sighed, “You’re hopeless. You know that right?”
“It’s for the best.” He said coldly, “I have nothing to offer you anyway.”
Small tears were beginning to brim in Bulma’s eyes, “There’s you. You’re smart, and cunning and even funny in you’re own weird way. I see when we’re in public places and you look only at me. And when we’re in crowds you put your hand on the small of my back because you know I’ll get lost.”
Vegeta swallowed, suddenly feeling a stirring within himself. An uncomfortable, ripped open sensation.
Bulma continued, reaching out and touching Vegeta’s sharp cheekbone, “I know how much work you have, but still you come visit me in the lab. You let me drunk text you and you always answer, even at three in the morning. Even if it’s snarky I don’t care, because it’s you. I wish you could see what I see when you look at me. Because it’s wonderful; you’re wonderful.”
Vegeta stood frozen, mind playing catch up with what she was saying, “So, you…think I’m tolerable?”
Choking out a laugh, Bulma nodded, “More often than not. But even when your an asshole I like you.”
“You, like me?”
Vegeta blinked, “So…”
Bulma rolled her eyes, “Geeze Vegeta, do I have to spell it out for you?”
Bulma wrapped both arms arms around his neck, and dragged his face down to meet hers.
years & years (1) - m.dl.c x reader // j.a x reader
Summary: afight over a sandcastle sparks the beginning of a beautiful feud. Warnings: mentions of violence.
you’re five years old, and a boy with tan skin and a mess of dark brown hair kicks your sandcastle down on the first day of kindergarten. he laughs, right in your face, towering over you in khaki shorts and a dark blue polo shirt. when he turns to walk away, you stand up, taking up your plastic shovel, and crack it across the back of his head. he stumbles from the shock, and then bursts into sobs.
of course, this would be when the teacher looks over - and you end up in the time out chair, arms crossed, scowling. in the corner of the room, the boy is snivelling as the teacher checks the back of his head carefully. much to the disapproval of the teacher, your father had to bite back his laughter when she rats you out at home time. as he apologises to the boy’s mother on your behalf, the boy glares at you from the safety of his mother’s side. you’re only children, but it’s the start of a war that will span years and years to come.
you’re eight years old, stepping up to bat for your team in a game of rounders in gym. justin foley is throwing the ball - you hit it, hard, adrenaline soaring through your veins as it flies across the field. you begin the journey around the bases, your team chanting your name the whole way. grinning wide, with the sun on your face and the wind in your hair, you feel so powerful, on top of the world - until a foot goes unnoticed, stuck out in your path, and you trip, crashing to the grass on all fours. glancing up, you meet the self-satisfied smirk of Montgomery de la Cruz, eyes shining maliciously. Getting to your feet, you’re only a few yards away from a home run, when zach dempsey touches the base with the ball. you’re struck out, and shove your way past your enemy fiercely as possible. ‘you’ll regret that,’ you mutter, stalking off the field, watching him take his spot as batter. he gets a home run first try - and is sure to throw you a triumphant smirk.
twelve years old, just hitting that awkward stage of not-quite a
child and not-quite a teenager. you’re just discovering make-up and
kitten heels, alongside your best friend Sheri. these things aren’t
exactly regulation, but you manage to get away with some mascara,
foundation, some red lipgloss that tastes like strawberries and
smells even better. you wear it into school exactly once – and
montgomery hollers across the courtyard that you look like a clown,
he and his friends collapsing in peals of laughter, the sound
magnifying and shattering your confidence. sheri puts her arm around
you and tells you not to listen, that he probably just has a crush
on you – and that in itself almost makes you laugh. because the
idea of that one boy, liking you? was downright hilarious. the whole
day he sneers and jokes at your expense. you keep your head held
high, ignoring him, but when you get home and wipe away the makeup,
tears burn and spill down your cheeks. it’s not the first time he’s
made fun of you, but it’s the first time it’s felt personal.
fourteen years old, a freshman at Liberty High. it’s an exciting
time, nerve-wracking, but exciting. you feel so grown up, with a
fresh backpack, plain black, a clear pencil case packed neatly with
three biros of different colours, clean notepads stacked inside your
locker. for the first week or so, it’s all so daunting, that you
forget about montgomery de la cruz, and he seems to forget about you.
you’re both busy settling in to this new and foreign enviroment,
signing up for extracurriculars, making new friends. the weekend of
your first high-school party is a game-changer, and it’s held at
bryce walker’s house. neither you nor sheri can even believe you’ve
scored an invite – bryce is a whole year ahead of you, already
favourite for varsity captain, a sports legend in the hallways. you
tell your parents you’re going to a sleepover at sheri’s, and the two
of you sneak off in the darkness, headed towards the sound of music
and fun. it’s at that particular party you meet jeff atkins, baseball
player, and level ten hottie. he has the brightest eyes you’ve ever
seen, and one flash of a sweet smile has you completely entranced.
the majority of your night is spent in the kitchen, chatting with
him, connecting on a level that is entirely new to you. nothing
happens, per say, but simply standing there, feeling like it was just
the two of you in that crowded room? it was almost perfect. almost,
because montgomery had taken it upon himself to drag his ass over and
accidentally on purpose spill his drink all down your top, nudging
jeff with his elbow while making some crude joke you don’t even
register. your cheeks are flaming, embarrasment swallowing you whole
– then jeff shakes his head and offers you his jacket, to cover the
wet spot, telling montgomery off for his actions. the look on the
other boy’s face is priceless – like he’s just swallowed a lemon
whole, lips twisted in a snarl, gaze heated and furious on you. jeff
guides you away, and you spare a glance back at the boy who once
kicked your sandcastle down, all those years ago. he’s changed, in
more ways than simply getting taller– his stance is tense, eyes on
fire, a muscle twitching in his jaw. he’s angry, and for a moment,
your heart hurts for him. but then jeff is holding your hand, and
it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world, and you forget
everything that isn’t him.
week later, you and jeff are officially dating. he waits for you
outside your classes, walks you to and from your locker, loops his
arm around your waist when you sit together at lunch. you’re walking
on air, floating contentedly through your daily life. the one stain
on an otherwise perfect tapestry is montgomery, who’s words had
become sharper as he directed them towards you, nasty, awful things,
that wind jeff up. they end up fighting, and it stuns you, how
violent montomery could be. his fists don’t stop until zach dempsey
and justin foley are hauling him back, jeff’s lip split and bleeding,
montgomery’s eye already beginning to swell shut. before the
principal drags them both to the office, montgomery catches your eye
– there’s a moment, a strange second, where you see something you
can’t quite explain between the pitch-black fury in his eyes. then,
he spits out some blood, and walks away. after that, he pretty much
leaves you alone – as weird as it sounds, you miss him. you miss
the daily banter, the not-quite friendly, not-quite nasty feud that
had been cultivated over almost ten years. you didn’t notice until he
was gone, how much of a presence he’d been in your life. it saddened
you to think of that stage of your path as over, but eventually, you
accepted it. you were happy with jeff, your grades were steady, and
soon enough, montgomery de la cruz became only a person you used to
Authors note: Hey! I hope you guys are enjoying the prompts! This was meant to turn out different and more descriptive but I just can’t get it to work for me, so here is this. Warning: A little smutty, nothing too serious at all. Master List found HERE Prompt inspired by GIF at the bottom of this piece. Xx
When he doesn’t want to do something, he’s whiny, very whiny. He will pout and groan, and mumble, doing his best to think of ways to get out of whatever he has been forced to do.
You sigh as he drags his feet towards the restaurant, the restaurant that his friends’ picked and insisted that everyone show up at, despite Shawn politely trying to decline their offers.
“Babe, I’m not feeling good, can we just go back to the room?” He mumbles as he mildly draws your arm back, stopping you from walking closer to the entrance of the restaurant. You sigh as you turn to face him,
“You’re feeling fine, it’s just dinner, it won’t hurt you.” You insist, pulling him towards the entrance,
“But, what if I’m not feeling fine?” He challenges and for a moment you take the time to ponder over whether to call his bluff or not.
You step closer to him, his lips curling into a smirk— he thinks he’s winning— little does he know he isn’t skipping dinner.
You lean in closer, “if you’re not feeling good, we can go back.” You inform him, promptly moving your lips closer to his ear, “but, If you get through dinner, dessert won’t be the only thing you indulge in.” You whisper, just for him to hear, getting your point and your intentions across.
Anonymous:What about harry comes back from tour to see you and your daughter sleeping at your bed and he doesn’t want to wake you up and the next day it’s all fluffy and cuddly cause you and your daughter missed him and you go for ice cream or something
It had been two months since Harry had left for his tour. He had been going bat crazy not being able to see either of you in person. Skype and Facetime calls weren’t enough.
He wasn’t able to kiss his wife and daughter. He wasn’t able to brush his daughters hair whilst she smelt of soft lavender shampoo, fresh from her bedtime bath. Giving her lazy hugs on the sofa, watching the last of the cartoons for the evening. Together.
He wasn’t able to dance with you, late at night in the kitchen whilst you finished off a bottle of wine together. He wasn’t able to make love to you. He wasn’t able to kiss those lips of yours. That drove him mad.
So when those two months were up and he was could go home, he was giddy all day. Time zones were completely out of sync so when he pushed the heavy front door open, shoving his bags to the corner of the hall, the house was silent.
He locked the door behind him and quietly walked up the stairs.
He walked towards his daughter’s bedroom. The door was always left a tad open, letting in a small amount of light from the hallway. He slowly pushed the door open.
He was greeted by the daisy fairy lights which hung along her wall, emitting a soft pink glow throughout her room. He looked over to the bed to see all her sheets messed up. Yet there was no little girl sleeping in there, clutching her small elephant teddy.
He frowned and shut the door behind him, tiptoeing towards your joint bedroom. He pushed the door open to see what he had been hoping for. There, in the king sized bed, was his wife and daughter. The four year old clung to her as if she were a koala. Her legs wrapped around her waist and her face nuzzled into (Y/N)’s neck.
Harry’s heart warmed at the sight of the two of them. These were the two most important girls in his life. Of course, he cared deeply for his mother and sister but his wife and daughter? Another level.
He slipped his boots off and changed into some comfier clothes. After washing up a bit, he pulled the other side of the duvet up so he could climb in. (Y/N) shuffled slightly and opened her eyes a bit, noticing Harry.
Her smile was lazy, but wide. Her free hand grabbing Harry’s cheek, brushing her thumb over the light stubble that hadn’t been shaved. Her leaved into her touch, relishing in the soft touch of her thumb pad.
“Hiiii.” He whispered, cautious of the sleeping four year old between the two of them. She smiled.
“Hey. I missed you.” Her voice gravelly. Harry could tell you were about to fall asleep again so he reached over and kissed your pouting lips.
“Go back to sleep, darling. I’ll be here when you wake up.” She half nodded and went back to sleep, snuggling closer to their daughter and her feet becoming intertwined with Harry’s.
She drifted off shortly after and Harry couldn’t help but gaze at his two loves. His daughter took deep, slow breaths against her mother’s neck. He remembered when she was born.
Gosh, she was tiny. Felt like she was almost the size of his hand. She clung to him for dear life sometimes. It was clear she was a daddy’s girl, from the start, but there was a bond between her and (Y/N) that was irreplaceable.
Harry woke up to a small shake of his shoulder and a giggling in his ear. He peeked out of one eye to see his daughter’s bright, a few teeth missing, smile. Her green eyes were bright and full of life as her daddy slept beside her for the first time in months.
“Mornin’, sunshine.” Harry mumbled, pouting his lips. His daughter giggled and placed a sloppy kiss on his lips. Harry’s heart burst with love. He loved her so much it hurt sometimes.
She was everything he could ever dream of.
“Can we go get ice cream today? I missed you.” She sadly pouted, sitting cross legged in front of him. She wore light pink pyjamas with her dressing gown tied around her.
“Of course we can, sweetie. Choccy brownie?” She excitedly nodded.
All three of you had taken a stroll to the ice cream parlour in town. It was a little chilly outside so Harry lent his beanie to his daughter and carried her majority of the way. Not that he complained, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with her until he had to jet off again.
The parlour was small but colourful and bright. Your daughter ran up to the counter where dozens of ice cream tubs were laid out. Her nose was pressed against the glass as she decided what to have (even though Harry knew it was chocolate brownie. Maybe some chocolate sprinkles on top). Ice cream wasn’t a regular thing but when Harry was home you couldn’t say no.
You found a booth to sit at and Harry sat next to his daughter who greedily dug into the pot, ice cream getting smeared around her lips and cheeks. You both laughed at her lovingly and you brought the spoon to your lips, the delicious taste of lemon sorbet filling your mouth.
Harry leaned over the booth and kissed your lips, the sweet lemon on your lips.
“I’m so glad to be home.” He sighed. You pecked his lips once more and smiled before tapping the end of his nose with the sorbet.
He dramatically gasped and turned to look at his daughter who was bent over laughing, adorable giggles falling from her lips. He leaned down towards her and tapped the end of her nose with some of his mint chocolate ice cream. She squealed and Harry’s body filled with love.