watching this for the first time since it was on telly

Whipped...Boyfriend!!...(PT.3)

I’m sorry it’s taking forever to update, but thank you for being patient and sticking around!

If you haven’t, this follows the Whipped Friends series which you can read here

And then this came to be. You can read part1 and part2 first if you’d like.

Flashbacks*



Every tear that slipped, every muffled cry that got caught in his throat, every heart breaking sigh made Y/N break just a little more. Her Harry’s breaking down right before her eyes and she doesn’t know what to do, what to say, to make him feel better.

It’s never been this bad either. On days when he didn’t feel like himself, whether it was because he was feeling under the weather or just having a bad work day, a bath and a cuddle normally did the trick.

He would get home from a particularly bad day, body slumped and feet practically dragging on the floor. And Y/N would be sat on the couch in one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts, feet propped on the coffee table, flipping through channels, the rim of a glass of red wine between her lips. She’d glance his way when a soft ‘hey, love’ escaped his lips, and she’d look at the way his tall frame would walk over to where she was, and knowing what was to come, she’d sit up straight and plant both feet on the white carpet, wine glass sat on the table. He’d offer her a small smile before toeing off his shoes and plopping down at the edge of the couch, giving himself enough room that when he lies down, his head would rest on her lap, eyes meeting hers. Only then would she ask what was wrong, and feeling safe, Harry would tell her about how his day went from bad to worse. She would let his fingers play with hers, his other hand resting on top of his chest, sometimes mindlessly fiddling with his necklace. She’d hear him out and nod accordingly, speaking when necessary while the fingers on her free hand worked to pull at his hair in twists. And Harry would feel better after, he always did. Just having his Y/N listen to him and empathise is all he needed sometimes, Harry just felt like he needed to be heard.

And that’s what she did. No matter the situation, even before they started dating. Y/N always made time for Harry, as did he for her.

She would listen and give him advice. When they were best friends she would gladly take on Harry’s problems, and she would console him the best she could by doing things Harry enjoyed, to get his mind off things until they came up with a solution together.

She still listens, and gives advice, now that they’re dating. She still takes on his problems, and she’ll console him the best she can by still doing things Harry enjoys. They’ll go out for late dinners, Harry still choosing to sit next to her, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder, arms crossed as they think up a solution to his problem. They’ll go for walks around town, popping by their favourite little cafe for coffee on a nice chilly day, and stay for a bit to chat to their favourite waitress. She’ll gladly watch rom-coms until the next day, too, and pepper him with kisses when she gets the chance.

But now, she’s not so sure that would even help.

What can she do? Other than let him get it out, let him sulk as she stays kneeled in between his thighs. The room’s fallen into a heart breaking silence, and no matter how many times Y/N’s pleaded with him, begged him to tell her what’s wrong, Harry hasn’t budged, hasn’t muttered a single word other than the phrase ’m'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.’ It’s the only thing he’s said since he wrapped his arms around her, grip tight like if he was scared that if he let go she wouldn’t be there. His sobs rack his body uncontrollably, she can feel the heaving of chest against her own in attempts to gain control, failed attempts to stop crying. She feels his hot breath on her neck every time he whispers those words, and it’s starting to scare her, not knowing exactly what he’s sorry for.

All she knows, all she sees when she finally pulls away from his tight embrace is red bitten lips. His cheeks blotched a dark tint of pink, and damp from the tears that’ve finally stopped. His eyes are red and puffy, eyelashes wet. Nose red from when he’d rubbed at it with the back of his hand to rid it of any snot.

“Need t'take a shower,” is all he says.

He’s not meeting her gaze.

“Harry-” she begins. She needs to know what’s wrong. She needs to know what he’s sorry for.

“G'na take a shower.” His head is pounding, the pulsing on his temples sending him into a daze the second he makes any effort to push himself up off the chair. He can’t remember the last time he cried this much.

But his head hurts, his eyes hurt, his throat hurts…his heart hurts.

And he can’t bear to look at the woman he’s hurt.

Heart heavy, he makes his way to the bathroom, heel of his hand pressing into his eyes.

He strips down, movements too weak that it seems he’s taking longer just to remove his shirt. When his feet hit the cold tiles of the walk in shower and the hot water begins to trickle down his back, he lets himself break down for the second time since he’s stepped foot in the house. He stands under the shower head, hoping the steam that’s building up mixed with the sensation of water washing over his body would relax him in the slightest, but it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t.

Now, he’s gotta decide. Does he tell her now, or does he wait.

***

“You’d think Netflix would stop asking if we’re still watching after the tenth time of clickin’ yes,” Harry laughs, pressing the button to assure the telly that yes, they’re still wide awake.

They’ve been binging on the US version of The Office ever since Harry mischievously woke her from a nap.

She’d seemed spent when she got to his, instantly letting her body fall on his comfy white sofa. Harry had stepped away for no more than five minutes to fetch a blanket, only to find her asleep when he walked back into the sitting area. He’d taken off her shoes for her, leaving her to rest for about two hours, until he got bored of course. He’d finished the book he was reading, and had even taken some time to jot down ideas on his brown leather journal. When he had nothing else to write, he’d tiptoed back into the room, undoing the bun his hair was in and slipping the hair tie on his wrist. He had admired the way she looked, so serene, lips parted slightly to allow her lungs to fill with air. He thought maybe, if he pressed his lips to hers and she didn’t wake up, he’d finally find out what she tastes like. He’d always wondered. But no, he couldn’t. Not his best friend. Not like that and definitely not if it might ruin things. So he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and instead grinned cheekily, taking a few strands of his hair in between his fingers and bringing the edges of it to the apples of her cheek. He choked back laughs as he tickled at her temples, then just behind her exposed ear, and to the top of her lip. Harry’s eyes smiled at the way her brows knitted, and she’d brought the pads of her fingers to scratch where his hair lingered. It’d taken a good five minutes until she’d finally gotten up in disgruntlement, knuckled at her still tired eyes, and lightly pulled at Harry’s hair only for him to over dramatise the gesture and tumble forward, over the back of the sofa, and on top of her still laying body.

Harry had laughed at Y/N’s incapability to push him up and off her, his body clearly much stronger. And she’d only settled when Harry sat up, wrapped an arm over her shoulder, and pulled her up and into him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They’d talked about her day for a bit until Y/N insisted they watch the telly, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he obliged none the less.

So now here they are, arguing over how Jim hasn’t said anything about his crush to Pam.

“What was that??” Y/N’s so involved in the show that Harry thinks she thinks if she screams loud enough at the telly, somehow the characters will be able to hear her.

“Harry, did you see that??” She moves to sit up, taking Harry’s arm with her.

“Paper, love. They do work at a paper company y'know.” She scolds him, stare kept no more than a second before she’s turning back to the telly.

“But why’d he take it? Didn’t he put it there for her to read!” She wasn’t questioning the fact that Pam was meant to see it, rather stated that Jim meant to give it to her for a reason.

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Harry knew what that would set off.

“Ugh-” she grunts, plopping back into his chest with force, but not enough to really bother him any, “why can’t he just tell her! Would save a lot of trouble.”

“S'not as easy as it seems, kitten.”

It never is.

“But-” she chokes out, “why?” Her voice small, hurt.

“Hey,” he whispers, like you would to get the attention of a sad toddler, “hey. Wha’s wrong, kitten?” He feels like there might be more to it than just Jim discouragement to tell Pam he likes her.

The light emitting from the TV allows him to see the single tear that’s making its way down her cheek, and he reaches out to wipe it with his thumb.

She laughs half-heartedly, “nothing, nothing. M'fine.”

But all it takes is that look. All Harry has to do is stare at her long and enough, and right into his arms she goes, sobbing and shaking.

It isn’t long until his white tee is soaked at the shoulder, his best friend clenching by where it’s ripped in a hole.

Harry rubs at her back when he moves her to sit on his lap. He sighs into her hair, eyes closed and chest heavy just at the thought of her hurting. His large hand strokes her hair as he rocks her back and forth. And when she seems calm enough, he detaches himself to look at her face, his hands reaching out, removing the strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, thumbs caressing at the flushed skin.

“Who did this to ye’, pet?” He’s pleading for her to tell him.

But she doesn’t say anything, just nods her head no and wipes harshly at her eyes to dry them.

“C'mon then.” He pats at her thighs once, and Y/N tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as gets up off his lap.

Harry kisses her forehead and whispers “be right back” before clicking the telly off and disappearing into the hallway in the direction of his room.

“Here.” He reappears with his long black coat on, his beige jumper in hand, handing it to her with a small smile. And yes it’s much too big for her, but it smells like Harry. And that’s okay.

She might not want to tell him exactly what she’s got going on, but he’ll be damned if he’s just gonna sit around not doing anything to lift her spirits up.

“Harry,” she whines. She really doesn’t feel like going out, not for the next year at least.

“Please, kitten. Jus’ put m'jumper on.”

She doesn’t question him after that. He hands her her shoes from where he’d placed them, and slips on his own.

They walk down the streets in silence with their hands in their pockets, Harry occasionally glancing to make sure she was okay.

“Know ye’ too well, kitten,” he says, hoping to get her to talk to him.

“M'fine, H.” And again, a weak smile he’d come to know as her 'tell’ in situations like this.

They’re nearing a corner when a body bumps into her.

“Sorry. M'sorry-” the guy starts, “Y/N?”

“Oh, hey man.” Harry greets, nodding his head once as an informal 'hello’.

She tenses up.

“Hey, Harry,” the hello’s rather quick as he turns his attention back to Y/N.

“Y/N, can we talk?” He reaches a hand out, but she steps back from his reach.

Harry notices how she’s looking anywhere but at her boyfriend.

The man glances at Harry once, a flash of irritation in his eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” and this time he grips her arm. All Harry does is stare at where he touches her, eyebrows knitted in…concern. Maybe even anger. And he can’t ignore the fact that his tummy had tighten in…jealousy?

Harry doesn’t need to see more, the situation clearly uncomfortable for her, so he removes the man’s hand, “don’ think she wants to, man.”

He snaps, “doesn’t concern you Harry. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Was.” It’s the first she’s said since they’d left his place.

“No. I just, let me-” he takes another step towards her, and this time Harry wedges himself in between them, one hand finding Y/N’s behind him, the other firm on the guy’s chest to halt any other actions.

He tries to look at her, eyes pleading, but Harry’s body seems to shield all of her from his view.

“I’m sorry okay.”

Y/N turns her head to avoid the man she thought she once knew as he makes his way around Harry and past her, the sob that’d been caught in her chest erupting from her throat.

“Wha’ happened?”

If Harry recalls correctly, he remembers Y/N was completely smitten with that guy. It was as clear as day when she first introduced him, eyes brighter than Harry had ever seen. And Harry was courteous with the bloke. Made conversation when Y/N brought him to gatherings, but they were never really friends, per-se. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was either. Maybe because she’d stopped going to his, making the trip only once in a while and no longer staying at his when he asked. Maybe Harry was jealous because for the year or so they dated; he had to share Y/N with another man.  No, not maybe, definitely, but he’d never admit that.

Y/N wipes at her eye harshly, a tear already threatening to fall.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” And she’d kept walking along.

***

Harry presses his forehead to the shower wall, tile cool despite the temperature in the room due to the hot water. He remembers that day. It was the first time he’d seen her that broken. It was the first time he realized how fragile she really was.

He also remembers the night she’d revealed to him the reason for the breakup. It was the same night he’d confessed his love for her. They had been talking about everything and anything, and after Harry confessed that she was the reason for the lads’ teasing, she’d shyly mumbled 'y'know. That’s why my last relationship didn’t work out.’

He’d been confused at first, until she’d explained that her ex had become overbearing. He had compiled an endless, and frankly absurd, amount of reasons for why he thought she was cheating. He’d admitted that he was very wary of Harry. He’d insisted and insisted that surely Harry didn’t want just a friendship from Y/N. It’d started with 'a guy knows when another guy is into his girlfriend.’ Which turned into 'I see the way you two look at each other’ until it became everything he could talk about. She’d tried to explain more than once that it wasn’t at all like what he thought. That Harry and her were only friends. But of course that didn’t help. Not when her ex knew them before he’d expressed an interest in her, not when he saw them cuddling at gatherings, or sharing lingering glances.

She told Harry how she tried to make it work, tried to defuse the situation, but when her ex had gone banging on her flat door, drunk and in the mood to fight, is when she’d called it quits. She told Harry how she wasn’t going to stand for it, not after he’d yelled harsh words, accusing her of having an affair and calling her a whore.

Harry remembers it all because it was the same night he’d promised he’d never hurt her in any sort of way. He didn’t want to be the cause of her sadness.

But now here he is, in a position he could never have thought he’d be in.

He exits the bathroom to find his bedroom empty, curtains still closed, rays of light illuminating a picture of the both of them in its respective frame. He walks to the dresser to pull out a pair of briefs and shorts.

Meanwhile Y/N’s been sat quietly on the white, soft sofa. Telly background noise to her thoughts, a foot tucked under her knee and her hands clasped together on her lap.

Her head whips up when she hears footsteps nearing from behind to see Harry, damp hair and all making his way to her.

She says nothing, rather watches meticulously at the way his body moves, a hand running through his hair to push the wet strands slickly back, his nose scrunching for a second and his eyebrows knitting.

“What’re we watching?” He coughs into his fist before taking a seat next to her and giving her a small smile, his hand on her bare thigh.

It feels like she hasn’t heard his voice in a hot minute.

When she doesn’t answer, Harry turns his head to press a kiss to her temple, allowing his lips to linger and his eyes to close as he breathes in her scent.

“I love you, y'know tha’ right?” His thumb rubs her skin, state holding hers.

She’s somewhat relieved to hear that, but it doesn’t settle her worries fully.

She nods anyway.

“Love you, too.”

Boss!AU - Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 2.5, Part 3, Part 4

Time for the final part! This is actually my favourite part! It’s more fluffy than the other parts and I can’t leave the characters alone for too long so I’m sure we’ll dip in to the universe in the future again! I hope you like it - thank you for all the lovely comments I’ve had since starting it x

“Harry?” You speak down the phone after arriving in the office. It’s like a blizzard outside, raining and windy, and the last thing you need is your phone ringing when you’ve barely taken your coat off. You have his spilt hot coffee over your hand, and your clothes underneath are wet from the rain too; not quite the same weather as New York just last week. Harry had let you take Thursday and Friday off as a thank you for working the previous weekend so you’d spent the past four days with your phone switched off and holed up in your flat with takeaways and movies in between sleeping off the jet lag.

Your flat mate had flittered in and out in between seeing her boyfriend and she spent most of her time at the weekends with him now, which you were more than happy to see her do (and it gave you the flat to yourself), and you hoped you might have the same soon, if Harry would only make up his mind about whether he wanted something serious or not. You understand he has more to think about than most men his age, with his four year old son in the picture, and being the number one priority in his life, obviously, but you’ve decisions to make yourself. On the screen of your laptop is a draft contract from one of Harry’s rivals sitting in your emails, all you have to do is read through, get back to them with any adjustments, sign it, and you’d be free to sleep with Harry without fear of anybody finding out and frowning upon it.

Shit, it did sound sordid when you put it like that. Sleep with him? Be his assistant-with-benefits?

“Hey…” he sounds breathless, as if he’s running late. “Listen, I wouldn’t ask yeh if I didn’t need to bu’ I need a favour from yeh?”

You sigh, placing the coffee on the desk and pulling your hair away from your neck, the phone safely nooked between your shoulder and ear as you did so, and tried to do open up the place as he speaks. “What is it?”

“Sam’s sick.”

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anonymous asked:

hey! i was just thinking, that i've been listening to the songs harry requested on radio 1 and they've been stuck in my head for so long omg. and like, i'm not connecting the songs he requested to larry, but with each song a little scenario ab them plays in my head! was wondering if you could write little snippets based on a couple of the songs? sweetest devotion by adele and issues by julia michaels!

I got really carried away with this; I combined both of these songs and very subtly put a few of the lyrics into a mess of 3k. I hope this works for you xx



Louis watches the build up and break over a period of months. Years, even. Harry’s tired. They both are, but Harry’s exceptionally so. He’s been working nonstop on his album, his photography, himself, and now that he’s back in the limelight all day, everyday, it’s taking a serious toll. Louis doesn’t say anything or imply that Harry needs to slow down, but he wants to, just isn’t quite sure how. Harry’s been a little moodier, a little more on edge, and the whole time Louis is trying to figure out a way to approach the subject lightly, it seems that Harry has already given it just as much thought as Louis has, if not more.

“I think I wanna take some time off,” he says one night just before bed. He’s in the middle of changing his pants, tripping into them like he always does. “Like, hide, maybe?” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s asking for permission from Louis, just to make sure they’re currently at the same level.

Louis raises a brow from his position in bed and looks up, relieved, worried. “Yeah? Like go on an extended holiday?”

“Mmm, something like that.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Harry crawls into bed beside him, shirtless and shoulders pink from his sunburn. The weather was mild and about 10 degrees today - typical for January - but they spent the majority of the day outside, anyway, Harry lounging in the backyard, ignoring Louis’ request to venture out. Paps, he said simply, going back to shielding his eyes from the LA sun.

“I rented out a place in Maine,” he says, reaching for his reading glasses on the bedside table. He doesn’t really need them, but no matter how much Louis teases him about it, he continues to wear them, squinting without them. Dramatic. “I’m not even really sure where it is, but I know it’s right on a lake, it’s in the woods, it’s secluded, it’s…” He sighs. “Not here.”

Louis’ stomach tightens. “You trying to get away from me, Styles?”

“No, God no.” Harry shakes his head, curls finally grown back in and bouncing. “I’m trying to take a break from everything, but that doesn’t include you. You can come with me, if you want. But don’t feel obligated to. I know how much you love it here. And that you like writing here best.”

I love it here because you’re here. “I’m comin’ with,” he replies eventually.

“You want to?”

“Yes. You’re a bit strange for wanting to fuck off to the middle of nowhere but. I’m used to your weirdness by this point. No judgement here. I’ll come with.”

Harry smirks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose like Louis always does. Copy cat. “Good.”

“So, when’re we leaving?”

“Thursday morning.”

“Christ, you’re an impulsive lad, aren’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“Makes life interesting.”

Harry nods, reaching for the remote for the telly, then setting it back down. “I’m very happy. I really am. I just need a change, yeah?”

“It’s okay to, like, want to step back,” Louis says softly. “You don’t have to be grateful and positive every second of the day. Wanting to escape is probably the most normal thing I can think of.”

He’s quiet for a moment, probably thinking. He purses his lips when he looks at Louis. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’re gonna escape with me? Until you’re tired of me?”

Louis smiles, turning off his bedside light. “Absolutely.”

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Drarry flower shop au

When Harry first moved into the peaceful town from somewhere in the North of England, he did it for the safe and soothing feeling he had whenever he went out for a walk and for the lack of noise and stress he always witnessed in London. But now, the restlessness found him even here, at the end of his small world. 

And everything started on that Monday morning. 

After a whole week of planning his flit, Harry was relieved to finally move into his new home on the afternoon of the last Sunday, but since he was too tired to even move a muscle, he settled on the couch for the rest of the evening and watched the telly until he fell asleep with the thought that on Monday he will walk around the neighborhood and possibly talk with his friends. 

What he didn’t expect to find, was a flower shop with white walls and a tiled floor. 

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Hope You Heard

Let Me Have Your Heart: One Shot Series - #38

(Send In Requests)

(Past One Shots)

-

Harry and you had been friends for quite a while. The friendship just continued at his first of many trips to the cafe you worked part time at, ordering the same Apple Crumble each and every single time he visited. 

Although he had learned his lesson, he’d never eat as many slices of Apple Crumble as he did the first day he met you, and he learned he didn’t have to occupy himself with a slice of dessert to get your attention and converse with you, because you validly enjoyed his company.

Him visiting the small cafe, at the end of the street a couple blocks down from his mum’s house, became routine. 

Every morning, at the beginning of your shift, early in the morning, he’d walk over, and order his usual, which you already remembered by heart, and you’d take a seat with him a chat over whatever you two felt like chatting about that particular morning when the cafe wasn’t busy and bustling as it usually was.

Harry was in the middle of chopping up some vegetables for his chicken dinner when he heard his phone ringing. He placed the knife down, quickly wiping his hands on his apron that adorned his body and walked over to the other end of the kitchen where his phone was laid. 

A smile was brought up to his face when your name and a picture, you never knew he took, of you on his display screen. He picked up his phone, pressing the accept button and placing the phone up to his ear.

“Hey love, what’s going on.” he questioned over the phone, with a smile on his face. 

There was a moment of silence before the phone sounded like it was being thrown around and giggles were heard through the phone. There was some rustling before he heard you hiccup over the phone. 

“’arry? This you?” he heard you lazily question, clearly alcohol induced. “Indeed it is, you alright love?” he chuckled. You giggled and it sounded like you threw yourself down on a couch as you let out a huff. “I miss you” you slurred with a giggle. 

“I miss you and i’m sad you’re not here” you elongated. He smiled to himself. He had missed you too. With everything going on in his life, he wished that there had been more time that he could freely spend with you, but work seemed to always be his priority. “I miss you too, you enjoying yourself? You sound like you’re having fun” he chuckled, walking back to the vegetables and putting the phone on speaker and continuing to cook. “I am, I guess” she sighed tiredly over the phone. “I wish you’d be here, I don’t like these other guys trying to touch me and trying to dance with me” she whined and mumbled over the phone.

Harry dropped his knife and for some reason, a sense of jealousy and fear coursed through his veins. Were these men trying to do something with you they shouldn’t be doing? Were you aware enough of what was going on? “Do you want me to pick you up, love?” The phone rustled again and the sound of wind could be heard. “Please” you sighed against the phone, a bit of a shutter coming from your lips. “I’m at the pub on Wolff Street” you slurred out. He nodded, wiping his hands and throwing his apron off. “Alright just stay there, love. Okay? Don’t go off and walk away and don’t go with anyone you don’t know, understood?” he stated, grabbing his keys and coat. You let out a quiet “mhm” before he hung up the phone and got into his car, driving off to where you were located.

He pulled up to the curb, noticing you sitting against the red brick pub, snuggled up in your jacket and a short black dress with your eyes closed. He stepped out his car and walked over to you, squatting down to eye level with you. He gently tapped your shoulder as you opened your eyes and smiled. “You came for me” you slurred with a sloppy smile. “Always love, that’s what friends are for.” 

Friends. 

He wished he didn’t have to use that term. It was a term he wish he could have dropped months ago, and he tried, but it just was never the right time. Either it was too early, or you had just entered into a new relationship, so he couldn’t ruin your happiness when he saw that smile on your face every time you’d mention the other man’s name. It was either that, or you had been heart broken from a previous guy and he just didn’t have the nerve to tell you such a big thing when you were in time of crisis.

He gently grabbed your hand, helping you up, before supporting you into his passenger seat of the car and closing the door behind you. He stepped into the passenger seat and looked at you and heard your shivering. “Jesus babe, you need to learn to bring more layers. You know how this weather could get” he chuckled, blasting up the heat and putting your hands into his and blowing into them to give you some warmth. 

He looked into your glazed over eyes and you smiled at him. “You have really pretty eyes, Styles” you smiled, barely blinking. He quietly chuckled, putting his head down as he blushed a little before pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles before putting his seat belt on. “Alright, off to your place” he started. You shook your head. “Can I come to yours? I don’t like being alone after I get drunk. Makes me feel paranoid and what not” you sheepishly explained. He smiled, giving your thigh a gentle rub and nodding. “No worries, I was cooking up dinner as well, and I have enough for two. So you got it” he smiled.

The car ride was silent, just the sounds of other cars passing by you as he took his time to drive back to his place. Pulling into his driveway and putting the car into park he looked over at you and saw you dozed off. He smiled before turning off the car and going to your side of the car and picking you up bridal style.

You stirred awake and placed your head on his shoulder. “‘M sorry for’ falling ‘asleep” you murmured. He chuckled, shaking his head, unlocking the front door. “No worries, you want to hop into my shower? You smell a little like vodka and sick” he chuckled. You nodded, asking to be put down before slowly walking to the bathroom, placing a palm on your forehead before closing the bathroom door.

Harry smiled to himself, shaking his head before walking back to the kitchen to continue and finish off dinner. It was times like these where he wished you were both in a relationship so he could hop in the shower with you and help you wash the sick out of your hair, but he knew, friends didn’t do that.

He was taking out two glasses and two plates when he heard a loud thump coming from down the hall and a sudden ‘ouch’ being heard from the bathroom. His eyes went wide, quickly putting down the plates and rushing over to the bathroom. His first instinct was to come barging in, but he knew that maybe you wouldn’t like that, so he opted for a knock on the door. “Love, are you alright?’ he’d question, a sense of urgency in his phone. He heard you giggle before the water was shut off and he heard clattering before you opened the door, a towel covering your front. “I think i ‘tell’” you giggled, leaning forward, resting your wet forehead on his chest. “Mm, you smell good.” you smiled. He chuckled before helping you tighten the towel around you and trying his best not to take a peek at what was underneath the towel, but he controlled himself because the amount of respect he had for you, he had for no one else, but no one really knew that. “Come on. I’ll go find something in my room that you can throw on” he nodded, up the stairs as you both walked to his room and you picked out a long tee and some of his black boxers before laying in his bed. “You hungry? I prepped some dinner if you’re interested” your glazed over eyes, widened as you licked your lips and smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes” he chuckled. “Stay here, i’ll bring it up for you” he smiled.

It was a few minutes until he came baring up the stairs with two trays, one for you and one for him. He opted for just water, since you had had enough alcohol for the night. “Here you are” he gestured, handing you your plate of food with water and some advil on the side. “That’s for after dinner and before bed, so you don’t feel as yucky tomorrow” he smiled, sitting beside you and divulging into his dinner and turning on the telly to try and find something to watch and pass the time, and you both settled on Friends.

He cleaned up all the dishes as you settle yourself on the right side of his bed. He made sure all the locks were locked downstairs and that all the lights were off before making his way up to the bedroom. He stripped down to his boxers, also knowing it’s something he shouldn’t do with his friend right in his bed, but he figured she was tired and so was he, maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

He noticed her eyes go wide and for a moment, panic shot through his veins waiting for you to say something, but you said nothing. All you did was admire his body, as he made his way over to the bed with pink tinted cheeks and settling under the covers.

It was a few moments after he turned off the bed light lamp that he felt you shift in the bed and snuggle close to him. He tensed at first, but relaxed after a moment of your head snuggling into his chest. “Thank you for picking’ me up today, and making me ‘inner and treating me like a princess” you hummed tiredly, almost asleep but still slightly awake, and still aware of your surroundings.

He smiled, gently stroking your hair. “No worries love, anytime.” he sighed contently before hearing your soft little snores after.

It was at that moment where he really felt like his feelings for you were becoming deeper. With just a hint of light coming from outside, through the curtains due to the lamp light on the street he saw your fresh and soft features. No makeup, nothing foreign on your face, just your soft and supple cheeks and soft skin being caressed by the street light outside. He smiled, heart skipping a beat as he stroked your hair gently.

“I don’t think you’ll ever know this, but I think i’m falling in love with you” he whispered to you. Maybe more so to himself, and a little tiny part of him, hoped you had somehow heard.

-

Hello my friends! I know this isn’t a long one, but i figured i’d try and shoot for one tonight! I’m a bit tired, so i’ll be on for a little while longer! Let me know what you guys thought if you’d like and i really hope you enjoyed it!

'S Your Name, Isn't It?

Word Count: 2,977

***************************************************************************************

“Can you blokes slow down? My legs are littler than yours!” Y/N called after the four rowdy boys. “You speed up, Mini Moony! We’re gonna miss the train!” Sirius yelled back to her, not slowing down in the slightest. A few sprints later, the five teenagers made it to the train, quickly shuffling into a cart just as it began to move. “Padfoot, if you ever wait until the last minute to pack again, I will personally make sure that the rest of your life is miserable,” Y/N threatened, trying to catch her breath. “We made it, didn’t we?” He smirked, earning a glare from Y/N. “Take It easy, Little Lupin. We got here before it left, and we’re heading heading home for the summer,” James smiled. Y/N grumbled a “whatever” in response and rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. 

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So @the-moon-loves-the-sea asked for an overheard confession and honestly I had such fun with this!

In which things are said, things are overheard, and John is a bit of a nutter.

I come to a stop on the thirteenth step to 221B. Sherlock is having an argument with someone and although I’d love to be able to pretend that I’m giving my friend some privacy, I’m really not. It’s just that steps fourteen through seventeen squeak abominably and unpredictably, and I’ve always been a bit of a nosy parker. I know this about myself, and I’ve accepted it. So step thirteen is the best place to stand, if I want to…okay, if you’re going to be like that, eavesdrop. Such a nasty little word, but on the other hand, I’ve found out some fairly interesting things through eavesdropping over the years, and it’s not like Sherlock’s never-

“You should tell him,” comes Mycroft voice, light and certain through the open door.

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anonymous asked:

harry being really busy lately with all his promo and the missus gets upset bc he misses a newborn checkup appointment

new dad harry trying to find the balance between work and being home bc with the SOTT promo this is the first time he’s been working since the babies been born and the missus gets frustrated at him bc he blew off an important appointment for the baby

It’s after he gets home from a busy day, consisting a whole load of promotional interviews and performances to be shown a few days later, when the missus starts yelling angrily at him. Muttering beneath her breath every time he tried to give her an excuse, shaking her head in disbelief at how he blew off the most important doctors appointment for their little girl for a whole day of radio show interviews and performances to go out on the telly over the weekend, glaring angrily at him every time he tries to explain himself and dismissing his apologies because she just couldn’t be dealing with it whilst she has dinner cooking on the cooker.

And with her harsh words about how he didn’t seem to care about their new baby, he’s trying to hold himself together. Trying not to show his broken and exhausted emotions past his strong resolve.

Because he’s really trying to balance everything with a new album coming out and a new baby at home to look after, but he’s just so tired. He doesn’t have to time to sleep much because he’s up early for meetings and morning talks on the radio, but when he does catch himself a few hours to catch some shuteye through the night, the baby keeps him awake and he’s woken up to tend to them whilst he lets the missus have some time to rest and regain her full health back after nine months of body changes and sleepless nights with a pregnant belly.

He’s up the stairs before his eyes begin to water and leak tears, and, he’s in the nursery belonging to his little one before the sobs begin to leave his mouth, hard and fast and aching his chest. His tiny 8 week old baby girl snoozing in her cot, completely oblivious to her broken and exhausted father, tucked up under a blanket he could recognise as one his mother had brought with her when his daughter was just a few hours old. Her tiny hands coming up in her sleep, delicate fingers curling round and clenching into a tight fist, her toes poking out and showing off her tiny ankle from where her legs had risen up her calf.

“Yeh know daddy loves you, yeah?” He hums, sniffling wetly as he wipes his nose in the material of his shirt, tears dribbling into the corners of his lips as he leant over the bar of her cot to drag a curled finger down her cheek, “I love you so much, little one. Just like I love your mum, so much. I’m sorry m’not around as much right now. I wish, for the sake of you and watching you grow up, I was around more and I wish I waited more to release music. But, goodness, daddy just couldn’t wait. M’too eager to get all my stuff out for everyone. S’been over a year since I’ve put music out, you know? And in that year, I got yeh mum pregnant and we were so excited to meet you. I don’t get to enjoy you as much as I hoped,” he frowns, watching as her eyes flutter open, lips pouted and puckered, a damp chuckle escaping his lips when she made eye contact with him and gave him a grin, fingers wrapping around his, “hi, pretty girl. Hello.”

And it silent for a while. Just the sound of his babies snuffles and his laboured breathing. Along with a few sniffles coming from his nose and coughing to clear his throat. Quiet and peaceful until the missus’s voice is heard from behind him.

“Harry?”

He takes a glance over his shoulder, hiding his patchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, “hey.”

“Harry, I’m sorry,” she whispers, taking a heavy breath, “I, uh, I heard everything through the baby monitor and I just feel so bad. You were crying and I feel like the worst person right now because I know you can’t help being so busy and,” she pauses, taking cautious steps across the nursery and wrapping her arms around his waist, “I’m just so sorry for everything I said. You do care for us. You’re out making money for us right now. You don’t have to but you do. And, I love you for that.”

“Could’a taken some weeks off,” he mumbles, staring down at his daughter, “I’ve been such a bad dad over the last few days. Barely been here to look after her. I’m so busy with work, and-”

“You’re tired. I know,” she whispers, cheek pressed against his back, “take some weeks off. You can always reschedule interviews and performances. You’re going to make yourself sick with all of this stress on you, Harry. Just take some time off. We can take a trip to Manchester if you want to? We can go see your family?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, “you try and convince Jeffrey.”

“I have Jeffrey wrapped around my little finger, Peaches. All I have to do is take Persephone with me and he’ll be giving you as many weeks of as you want,” she grins, “I can go tomorrow morning. You’re going to sleep in and have some time to yourself. Do whatever you want. I’ll meet him for breakfast and I’ll talk to him for you,” she explains, giving his belly a soft pat and hearing him purr in contentment, “go have a sleep now. You look like you’re about to fall over.” xx

anonymous asked:

Hey could you please do a Moriarty (form Sherlock) x Reader fic where he doesn't know how to express his feelings, but he always likes to sit next of the Reader because it helps him concentrate when he is working or relax when he is stressed. Thanks oxox

Pairing: Jim Moriarty x Reader
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Warnings: almost smut, lol (also some swear words)

A/N: gaaaaah! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST BABE! oh my god, I love jim so so so much and I’ve been looking forward to writing this request for ages and finally managed to write something! so yeah, hope you enjoy it <333

                                                             *****

Jim Moriarty wasn’t someone that wore his heart on his sleeve.

You and him had been having.. something, for a while now, yet, you didn’t know what this thing exactly was - given that he never talks about such matters.

The sex was good, though, so you didn’t want to complicate things by having the ‘What are we?’ talk. If what you were having now is all that he wanted, fine by you. If he wanted more, he’d hopefully tell you. Or show you.

That’s how it’s been for a few months. But one day, you realized that the ‘just sex’ part, developed into something.. different.

Keep reading

My Muse - Sherlock x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem! Reader
Warnings: none? i think?
Rating: T, just to be safe
Word Count: 1828
Author’s Note: This is for @sherlockourhero who requested this:

Heyy, I loved your last moriarty x reader imagine!<3 If u don’t mind, here’s a Sherlockxreader request for you:) Soo, the reader really enjoys to draw but she runs out of ideas but then she decides to draw Sherlock and she’s so keen of the idea so from this moment forth she’s currently drawing him. One day(maybe when she’s on a date) Sherlock needs something from her and searches for it but finds the drawings and is totally flattered and doesn’t know how to handle it when she comes in? Fluff? <3

Hopefully you liked this! I’m sorry if you don’t, but I tried my best! :)



“I’ve been gone for three hours and you still haven’t moved from the floor!” John exclaimed when he entered the flat of 221B Baker Street. Y/N Y/L/N lay sprawled on the floor with her eyes closed. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon and the sunlight poured in from the open window. Mrs Hudson was probably downstairs watching telly, Sherlock… somewhere and Y/N was normally sketching away. Except she wasn’t. Her signature sketch book and her pencil were no where to be seen.

“You took Rosie away from me,” Y/N replied sorrowfully, her eyes still closed. “My wittle Wosie. My sunshine, the light of my life.” John groaned and set his shopping on the table, which wasn’t cluttered with experiments, surprisingly. “If she were around, I could have gone with Molly and we’d have bought more toys and clothes for her.”

“I’m starting to think you have an obsession with Rosie,” he rolled his eyes at her. Y/N hummed back in response and continued to lie on the floor.

“She’s my favourite thing in this whole world,” she spoke loudly after some time, finally getting up and plopped herself onto the sofa. “I would gladly quit my job for her, but I can’t or else I’d be broke, and then I can’t buy her nice things,” John sat down next to her and seizing the opportunity, she put her legs on his lap. He made a motion to shove her legs away but changed his mind at the last minute.

“You ramble a lot when you’re bored,” he finally spoke, after looking at her for some time. John grabbed the newspaper that was on the coffee table and began to read it.

“I am aware,” was her reply.

“We need to find something you can do on Saturday afternoons,” John shook his head and turned the page. “What about… going out with Molly? She’s your best friend.”

“Firstly,” Y/N held up a finger. “Molly works on Saturdays, who does that? And I’d love to go out with her, it’s just that we’re not-“

“Yeah yeah whatever,” John cut her off. “Rosie isn’t with me… What about drawing?”

“There’s nothing for me to draw!” Y/N complained loudly. “I have over a dozen drawings of Rosie, couple of Molly, some of you…” she trailed off, sneaking him a look. He chose to ignore the last statement and turned a page. A couple of silent minutes passed when John realised that something was missing. Or rather someone.

“Where’s Sherlock?” John asked, looking around. “He’s the one who normally causing the ruckus.”

“Probably visiting Eurus,” she replied, looking at the grocery John had bought in a new found interest. “Did you get jam?”

“Stop telling everyone I’ve gone to visit Eurus!” Sherlock called loudly from the bedroom. John groaned and held his head in his hands when he heard something hit the door.

“Sometimes I can still hear him,” the woman mock pondered, pouting slightly in the process.

“Sod off Y/N,” he yelled back, emerging briefly throwing her sketchbook and pencil at her from the room. “I don’t visit her all the time!” He then looked at the kitchen and slowly turned his head, with a murderous glare in his eyes. “Did you remove all my experiments?” he asked softly.

“I do what I want Sherlock!” Y/N hollered back, picking up the sketch book and pencil from the floor. She frowned when she saw that the tip of the pencil had broken off. “Stop throwing my things and breaking them you… you man-child!” She yelled at him once more. Sherlock emerged from the bedroom, like a dragon emerging from a cave, and glared at Y/N.

“Remind me why you’re here again?” Sherlock asked waspishly. All of a sudden, the army doctor wished he wasn’t such a frequent visitor to Baker Street. It was fine enough having two babies to handle, he had to handle Y/N now that she had to stay.

“Someone blew up my kitchen when Mrs Hudson said that special someone couldn’t use the one in 221B,” she stuck her tongue out at him. “So I have to stay at yours.”

“SHUT UP!” John finally yelled at both of them. He was tired of their constant bickering. “BOTH OF YOU JUST, SHUT UP!” The flat was in total silence for several minutes as Sherlock sat down on his chair and Y/N began to doodle on her sketch book. The light in the room suddenly brightened and it hit Sherlock in such a way, he seemed like a heavenly celestial being. It suddenly struck Y/N as she realised she hadn’t drawn him before. The doorbell buzzed and John and Sherlock immediately looked at each other.

“Client.”

~

John and Sherlock spent the next couple of hours meeting the clients that were lined up at their door. Y/N remained in the same room, but instead on listening to the clients’ stories, she sketched Sherlock. She first started on his face, lightly drawing his face in first. After their first two clients, she had finished the basic features of his face and started to draw his eyes. Y/N loved his eyes the best of all. They were so exquisitely beautiful, one could get lost in them. An idea struck her and she promptly left the room, much to the surprise of their client, and she returned with several colour pencils of varying shades of blue and green. Slowly, yet carefully, she started to fill the vibrant colour into his eyes. Once his eyes were done, she shaded in his face, highlighting his cheekbones, smudging the shadows with her thumbs and redefining several lines. Sherlock was too engrossed in his clients that he failed to notice Y/N’s quick glances at him.

~

“Y/N you’ve got a notification,” John was typing away furiously at his laptop at the latest case. It had been a couple of weeks since the fiasco in the living room. Sherlock had disappeared for a case a couple of days ago. When no reply came, he peered into the screen of her phone. “It’s from Molly!” He rolled his eyes when he heard a crash and a bang; a frazzled Y/N came in, her fingers were blackened from the charcoal. She walked through the living room and unlocked the phone. When no reply came from her again, John looked at her with concern, she had a strange look on her face. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve gotten date,” a small smile was on her face. “Tonight. At seven.” Her expression dropped a little. “When’s Sherlock getting back?” John looked at her sadly and closed his laptop lid. He walked over to where she was standing and gently gripped her by the shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he spoke softly. “He’s a bit of a prick, go enjoy your date.” Y/N hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek.

Couple of hours later

“I need your sketch book Y/N!” Sherlock thundered up the stairs and burst into the flat. John nor Y/N were anywhere to be seen. Bestride needed a person who could sketch and he had immediately thought of Y/N. She was likeable, she got unbearable when she didn’t have anything to do. A slip of paper on the fridge caught his eyes and he strode over to where it was was and quickly scanned it.

I’m with Rose and Y/N’s gone for a date. DON’T RUIN IT AGAIN OR NO ROSIE FOR A MONTH.

Dinner’s in the fridge, or just get take away.

John

Sherlock crumpled the piece of paper in his hand and threw it away. He needed Y/N so she could sketch the portrait of the murderer, but he couldn’t ruin the date. There was an alternate option of… messaging her. He wouldn’t be ruining the dat after all.

Sherlock: If you’re not terribly busy in your date, I need you ASAP.

Stuffing the phone in his Belfast, Sherlock started to look through Y/N’s room. He heard the John in his head going, “Stop going through her stuff! It’s private you prick!”. Sherlock chose to ignore it; a buzz indicated he had a new message.

John: Did you ruin her date again? I told you not to.

The consulting detective rolled his eyes and typed out a reply

Sherlock: I just said if she wasn’t busy, I needed her ASAP.

John: No Rosie for a month.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a dark, leather-bound notebook, which was precariously on the edge of her dressing table. It was a Eureka moment for Sherlock as he reached out to grab it. However, it fell to the floor and Sherlock stopped for a moment when it saw what page it had opened on. It was a portrait of him.

Sherlock gently ran this fingers over the papers, lingering on his eyes. He knew Y/N was talented, but he didn’t know she was this talented. She had cleverly used charcoal for his hair and outlined individual strands using a mechanical pencil. He could make out the softness of the tissue she had used for shading his cheek-

“Turns out I wasn’t so terribly busy on my date!” He heard a familiar voice call from the living room. “He was frankly lovely, but he didn’t like books! Imagine that! A man who didn’t like…” Y/N trailed off when she entered her own room and found her sketchbook in Sherlock’s hands.

“Books,” he completed for her. “Y/N I-I’m so…” the detective found himself lost for words; he was incredibly flustered.

“I can explain,” Y/N’s face was flushed from embarrassment. “I swear it’s nothing stalker-“

“It’s beautiful,” he cut her off again, setting the book aside. “But why me? Only deduction I can make is that-“

“I never drew you before,” Y/N admitted shyly. “That sketch was my first time, the nose is a little off and the eyes…“ she was interrupted in her rambling when he stood right in front of her; Sherlock gazed at her fondly and cupped her cheek with a gloved hand.

“Thank you,” he had a small smile on his face. Y/N, suddenly feeling a rush of bravery in her, gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she grinned shyly, from ear to ear. “For being my muse. You’re an interesting person to draw.”

“Can I be your muse more often?” he asked, with a cocky smirk on his face. Y/N laughed and elbowed him in his ribs.

“Only if you stop complaining about me all the time,” she looked over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. “What did you need? Was it Lestrade? He messaged me too!” Sherlock had stopped listening and held his hand on his cheek where she had kissed him with a small, secret knowing smile.

Requests Open!

For The Love Of Harry, Chapter Two

Winter was definitely in full swing in London. The cold winds cut straight through a person with no apologies. You are not a winter person at all, and often wonder why you continue living in London when you would fit more appropriately in a year-round, warm-weathered climate. But you had to admit, you had fallen deeply in love with England since moving here a couple of years before. The architecture, the romance, your job, the people you worked with and had become friends with, the lifestyle. You love being surrounded by people who are so unlike those you grew up with in the US. And if you are being honest, you kind of enjoy being the only American among all of your friends. You like for your friends and acquaintances to ask you what something was like for you when you were growing up, and discover the similarities and differences between the two lifestyles.

As you came off the tube and walked toward your office, you were suddenly wondering why you had chosen to wear a dress and heels today. The cold wind shot straight up your skirt, making you cringe and cuss as you eventually find your way through the front door of your office building. You swear it wasn’t that cold when you left your house this morning, that the temperature must have dropped 20 degrees since then. As the elevator door opens on your floor, you step out and smile and greet your co-workers as you pass them, exchanging pleasantries with each, then finally plopping down in your desk chair. You were grateful at that very moment for the heating vent that was directly under your desk. You kicked off your heels and placed your feet atop the vent, removing your coat but draping it around your bare legs and tucking it around, so that the heat from the vent traveled delicately up under your coat.

“Ooooh, that’s goooood,” you moan to yourself, with your eyes closed.

“Should I leave you two alone? Give you a moment?” you hear your best friend, Kari, say.

“Yes!” you tease. “How are you today?”

“Oh, can’t complain,” she replied. “Well, I could, but who the fuck really cares, right? Why in hell did you wear a dress today? Do you not watch the forecast, love?”

“No tv, remember?” you remind her.

Kari rolls her eyes at you. “Never did understand that. What do you do in your free time if you aren’t watching the telly?”

“Not everyone likes tv watching, Kar,” you say.

“Nonsense,” she replies. “It’s a conspiracy to say such things. Shame on you for spreading false gossip.” You smile at her. “By the way, TJ wants your piece by the time you leave tonight. I hope you’ve got most of it done.”

You look at her surprised. “What? I was supposed to have until Friday!” you complain.

“Chance of bad weather by end of week,” she explains. “He wants everything ready just in case.”

“Fine,” you spew like a 4 year old conceding. “Go away, then. I’ll never finish it with you distracting me.”

“It’s a curse, this beauty,” she says teasingly as she leaves your desk and walks back to her own.

For the rest of the day you work diligently on your article. You have never in your life missed a deadline, and you weren’t about to begin now. By mid-afternoon you had barely taken a break from your work to even use the restroom, and had munched on only an apple and some almonds at your desk as your lunch. As you work on citing your sources and polishing what you have written, you have a cold chill that you think must have a life of its own as someone somewhere in the office has apparently opened a door that allowed a freezing breeze to flow through the room. You blow hot air into your cold hands and bend at the waist in your chair, trying to be as close to the heating vent at your feet as you possibly can, your forehead pressing against the edge of the desk top. As you groan at the amazing feel of the warm heat, you hear a familiar voice.

“You alright there, love?” Harry asks, giggling. You immediately sit straight up, nearly knocking your wheeled chair backward and catching yourself before you can fall in the floor. Harry’s eyebrows lift as he laughs from surprising you. “Sorry!”

You grin, shaking your head. “No worries,” you reply. “What are you doing here, Harry?”

“I was in the neighborhood visiting with a friend and realized this is your office building,” he answers, still smiling. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in without calling you first. Hadn’t seen you in awhile and thought I’d see how you are.”

“Oh!” you smile back at him. “I’m doing fine, thanks. How are you? Staying busy?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Staying quite busy, actually,” he answers. “Hey, what time do you get off work?”

“I just have to finish this article then I’m free,” you reply. “Maybe 10 more minutes?”

“Great! I thought since I was in the neighborhood anyway, I’d see if you could use a lift home,” he grins. “You mentioned awhile back you haven’t a car now. Can’t imagine the walk to the station is a fun one in that wind…and in a dress.”

Looking like you must have been an idiot for wearing it today. “Yeah. Didn’t realize it was so cold out when I left, and I was running late. Here, sit in that chair and I’ll finish this, then we can go. Thanks!”

In a few more minutes, someone walks to your desk. “You never told us you know Harry Styles!” the co-worker beamed.

Another employee steps forward to talk, too. “If I’d known you knew Harry, I’d have asked you to get me an interview a long time ago! How ‘bout it, Harry?”

“Back, you vultures!” you yell at them. “Shoo! Shoo! He didn’t come here to get harassed by you. He gets that enough. Why do you think I never told you I know him? Now, go away, all of you!” You smile as they all say something to Harry then walk away, but continue looking at him off and on. He’s used to it, but you deliberately didn’t tell people you knew him for that very reason.

After another moment, you save and send your completed article and slide your feet back into your heels. “Done!” you announce to him. “Sorry about earlier, Harry.”

“Not a problem, love, I assure you. I’m used to it, but thanks for that,” he smiles and stands. He helps you put your coat on then you pop your head into your supervisor’s office. “Goodnight.”

“I need your article before…” he starts.

“Check your inbox,” you smile. “See you tomorrow!”

You turn and smile at Harry as he follows you out of the office. You walk outside and, after getting into his car, he starts it and turns up the heat. “Won’t take long for the heat to kick back up,” he grins.

You chit chat during the once-familiar drive to your home. Your car was one that Alex had leased in his name, so you weren’t terribly surprised the day the towing company showed up and drove away with it. You realized you didn’t really miss having a car, and decided public transit would work fine for you. As Harry parks his car, you invite him for dinner.

“Harry,” you look at him, “I seem to recall that I owe you dinner. Are you free this evening?”

“I am, actually,” he smiles. “Are you sure? Kind of last minute, if that’s a problem.”

“No problem,” you shake your head. “I put a pot of stew in the slow cooker before I left this morning. Should be ready now.”

“I would love to then!” he agrees. You both go inside and you change out of your work clothes and into something warmer and more comfortable. As you come back downstairs, you see Harry in the kitchen, ladling soup into two bowls and searching for the correct drawer to find spoons.”

“One more over,” you instruct him. “I hope you’re hungry. I made enough for a few meals with this cold weather.”

“Starving,” he said honestly. “Didn’t get lunch today, had a meeting. It looks and smells delicious!”

“Thanks,” you answer. “My mom used to make it every winter. Has a way of really warming your insides.”

You both sit at the table after you fix both of you a glass of wine, and enjoy the food. “It’s really good!” Harry says with a smile. “I’ve missed your cooking. Especially your grilling. Gonna have to do that again sometime. When the weather isn’t so bad, of course.”

“We absolutely will” you say. “So, tell me how you’ve been? Work and whatever else you’ve been doing that’s kept you so busy.”

“Loads of work,” he sighs. “Doing a lot of writing and some studio work. Spent some time in LA for awhile, tying up some loose ends and seeing friends.

“That sounds nice,” you grin.

“Do you ever get back to the states to see family and friends?” he asks.

“Don’t have any family anymore,” you answer. “And I’ve not seen my friends, but we video chat every now and then. Can’t really leave my job for that long, and neither can they.”

“No family?” he asks, surprised. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be,” you grin again. “My parents passed several years ago. They had no siblings and neither did I.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” he says, genuinely feeling sad about it. He can’t imagine not having his family in his life.

“Long time ago,” you assure him. “More stew?” you ask, seeing he’s finished.

“Not sure where I’d put it,” he laughs, rubbing his belly. “That was really filling!”

“My dad used to call it a “stick-to-your-ribs” meal. Filling and nourishing, get someone through a cold winter kind of meal,” you explain.

“Exactly,” he says. “Wouldn’t mind taking a bowl of it home, though, if that’s alright?” he asks, giving you a puppy dog look.

“Absolutely!” You’re happy he asked. “Except for the nights that Kari comes begging for something to eat, I don’t get to cook for anyone anymore. Kind of miss it sometimes.”

Harry laughs. “Sweetheart, anytime you want someone to cook for, please call me!” You both laugh as you ladle soup into a container and seal it with a lid, then put the remaining soup into a container for the fridge. You quickly wash the dishes and Harry insists on helping. As you finish, you both dry your hands on opposite ends of a kitchen towel as you smile at each other.

“Harry, I don’t know what you need to do now, but I was thinking about watching a movie,” you announce. “Interested? I don’t have a tv, but I watch on my computer. I’m a sucker for a good romantic comedy.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised that she asked. “I’d love to!”

“Great!” you say, walking into the living room. You start a fire in the fireplace for some added warmth and ambiance, then grab your computer and together you choose a movie to watch, setting it on the coffee table in front of you both. Harry pours you both another glass of wine, setting the near empty bottle on the table. You both enjoy the movie, laughing and feeling sappy. When it finishes, you close the laptop and look at Harry. “Have another bottle of wine if you want more?”

“As much as I would love that, babe, I should be going,” he says, looking out the darkened window at the night sky. “Seems to be coming down again. Think the snow is never going to end, I swear.”

“Pretty to look at, but not so fun when you have to get out in it,” you say.

You both stand, Harry grabs his leftovers, and you walk with him to the front door. “Thank you for dinner. Always delicious,” he smiles.

“You’re welcome,” you nod. “Thank you for the ride home, and for keeping me company on a cold wintery night.”

“Anytime,” he says, then leans to you and gives you a hug for a long moment. “I love spending time with you.” He pulls back a bit, looking into your eyes. “I’d love to do it again sometime real soon.”

“I’d love that, too,” you slow-blink at him flirtingly. As you both look at each other longingly, you secretly hope he kisses you. He looks at your lips, then back at your eyes, then grins slightly as he pulls away, releasing your hug. You’re disappointed, but you never expected Harry Styles to be interested in you that way. He was your friend, and up until a few months ago, he was the best friend of your ex-boyfriend. You didn’t think they were friends anymore after what happened, but you honestly had no way of knowing. You had cut off all ties to Alex after you kicked him out, only seeing him once since then when he came to pick up the rest of his things.

“Stay warm, love,” Harry smiled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it, then kissing you quickly on your cheek.

“You too, Harry,” you say. “Let me know next time you need to be cooked for,” you smile and he laughs.

“I will, I promise,” he says, then opens the door and quickly walks out to his car and jumps inside. He waves to you through the front glass as the wipers brush off the fresh layer of snow, then backs out and drives away. You close the door, thinking about the evening. If all Harry wanted was to be your friend, you would accept that. You liked being friends with him. You may have to learn how to squash down the butterflies that seem to flutter inside of you when he looks at you a certain way, or when he laughs at something you say, but you wouldn’t pursue more if you thought he didn’t want it, too. Or at least you would try.

*

Finally a bit of a break in the cold weather! You were only half-way through winter, so a nice warm interruption was just what you needed. You loved when you had a beautiful spring-like day when technically it should be blustery and…well, winter.

It was the weekend and you had already decided to be productive over your warm weekend by painting the spare room of your home that has needed a new, fresh look since you bought the house two years before. You could never get Alex to do it, even when he would say, “No, don’t do it. I’ll get to it eventually!” So today you were taking matters into your own hands.

As you prepare the room by taping the windows and trim, making sure you have all the supplies you need, you realize you forgot the ladder in the garage. One of the purchases that Alex absolutely had to have for all the things he wanted to do to your house. You walk into the garage and see it still hanging on the hooks on the wall, where it’s been since the day he bought it. You shake your head and chuckle slightly, then start to grab it from the wall when you hear your doorbell. You leave it and jog back through the door, into the house, and quickly to the front door and open it.

“Hey!” Harry says, cheerfully. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?

“It is!” you smile at how happy he is. “How are you, Harry?”

“I’m doing great. How are you?” he asks, as he kisses your cheek, his hand on your waist.

“Doing fine, thanks,” you say. “Want to come in?”

“Thanks!” He does and closes the door behind him. “You busy?” he says as he notices the rag on your shoulder and your hair pulled up into a messy bun, old comfy clothes adorning your body.

“Um, sort of…” you say, biting your bottom lip. “I’m painting my spare room today. Taking advantage of the beautiful day so I can open the windows.”

“Really?” he raises his brow. “Care for some help?”

“You want to spend this beautiful, sunny, non-snowy, non-cold day, inside my spare room doing manual labor?” you ask, teasingly.

“I do!” he laughs. “Got nothing better to do. And I’m already here, aren’t I?”

“Well, as long as you don’t mind, I welcome the help,” you thank him. “Come on!”

He follows you to the garage and grabs the ladder off the wall and carries it up the steps for you. It’s a bit comical watching Harry try to not bust holes in the walls along the way as he bumps this one then that one. You gasp and put your hands over your mouth a couple of times, trying to help guide him, until finally he makes it through the door of the spare room.

“Success!” he laughs, setting the ladder up in the middle of the room. “Was easy,” he jests, as he sees the look on your face and you chuckle.

“Ooook!” you say, changing the subject and he laughs. “So, this is the wall color, and this is the trim color.”

“Like that!” he nods. “Will look good in here, too. What is this room going to be?”

“I’m going to set up my music stuff over here on this side, and my workout stuff on this side,” you explain. “It’s been too cold to go all the way in to my gym, or to go for a run, so I’m going to make it so I can have a good workout here.”

“And what music things do you have?” he asks, curious.

“My keyboard and guitar stand, my turntable and vinyls, and….” you think, trying to remember, “Oh, and since it’s a large room, I want to put maybe a little sofa or something in here for when I’m reading or writing. Bit of a hobby room, I guess.”

He looks at you curiously. “A side of you I did not know. How does that happen?”

“Don’t know,” you shake your head and smile. “Embrace the mystery. I guess most of the time when we were around each other, you were probably hanging around Alex and the boys more than around us girls.” You shake the paint cans well and open them, pouring paint into a tray for the rolling, and into a smaller container for painting around the trim. “Roll, or cut-in around the trim?” you ask him.

He is still looking at you, not realizing he didn’t even know you were musically-inclined. He finally snaps out of it, “What?”

“Do you want to roll onto the walls? Or would you rather do the cutting-in around the edges?” you ask.

“Oh,” he says, “Um, I’ll roll.” He grabs the roller pole and gets it covered well, then starts painting the walls while you start the rest. As you both paint, you have music playing from another room and you both sing along as you work.

“So, love,” he says, “I don’t mean to bring up a sore subject, but have you seen Alex since you broke up with him?”

“Um,” you dip your brush into your cup of paint, “Yeah.”

“Really?” he is surprised. You were so angry with him that night. He still remember the punches you landed on your ex, and smirks thinking about them.

“Yeah, only once,” you say. “I texted him to come get the rest of his things, a couple of weeks later.”

“How’d that go?” he asks as he paints.

“How do you think it went?” you look at him as he looks at you, knowing. “I had all of his things setting out in front of the garage doors, so he was none too happy about that. I didn’t want to see him or talk to him, but he used his key to get into the house. I hadn’t thought about changing the locks yet, so it freaked me out a bit when he unlocked the door and came in before I could put the latch on the door.”

“Did he?” he looks at you, concerned. “He didn’t, like, cause any trouble, did he?”

You sigh a deep sigh. “Not really.”

“Not really?” he asks, stopping what he was doing and looking at you. You look at him and frown a bit.

“He begged me to take him back,” you admit. “Tried to…cozy up to me.”

“Tried to seduce you,” he states, more to the point.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I guess so. But, that wasn’t going to happen, and I let him know that, in so many words, pissed him off once again, and he stomped around the house, looking to see what I had no doubt kept of his that I apparently wanted.” You roll your eyes. “Like I need or want his crap. Yeah, I really want your porn magazine collection, you big perv.” Harry giggles, but doesn’t like you having to deal with Alex. “When he couldn’t find anything of his in the house, I waited until he was outside the door, then slammed the door in his face when he turned to talk to me, and I locked all the locks and put the latch on. When he started beating on the door, I threatened to call the police if he didn’t take his things and go.”

“What an ass,” Harry says. “He used to be a fun guy, but he’s changed a lot, I think.” You nod and keep painting.

“You’ve not seen him or talked to him then?” you ask him.

“No, and I’m glad,” he admits. “He texted me later that night, and for a couple of days after, wanting to try and talk and still be friends or whatever, but I didn’t answer and haven’t heard from him since.”

“Like Kari said, good riddance,” you say without looking at him as you continue to paint.

You both continue to paint for hours until finally, the room is completely finished, and you are both tired and paint-splattered. You finish what you are doing and turn and see Harry lying in the middle of the floor on his back, his hands on his ribs with his eye closed.

“Good God, I’ve killed Harry Styles,” you tease, as he laughs and opens his eyes. You walk to where he is and lay down next to him. “It looks good, doesn’t it?” You look around the room and so does he.

“Yeah, it really does,” he agrees. “We do good work!” He lifts his arm for a high-five, which you return, and he moans from how sore his arms are from painting, and you giggle. He smiles and looks at you, thinking you look beautiful, even with paint on your face and in your hair. He smiles as he notices a spot of paint on your nose. He uses his finger to wipe it away, not realizing he has even more paint on his finger, which smudges down your nose. Your eyes get huge as you look at him and he draws his lips into his mouth and shoots his eyebrows high, then giggles. You giggle, slyly dipping your finger into your paint cup which is setting near you, and trace your finger right down his cheek.

“No, you didn’t,” he says as you giggle. “I can’t believe…” he says, as he leans up on his elbow, crossing his arm across your stomach and quickly dipping his finger into your paint cup, then doing the same to you along your cheek and jaw. You both laugh as you lay under him, and he looks at you with a smile. He looks into your eyes, to your lips, then slowly lowers himself to your mouth, taking your lips to his own. He kisses you softly, tasting your kiss in return, then pulls back and looks at you again, to make sure you were okay with him kissing you. You lift the corners of your mouth slightly, enough for him to know you were definitely alright with his risk-taking. He leans to you once again, kissing you deeply, his hand on your ribs, then your waist, pressing his body against yours. You feel his hand caress you as you taste each other, your tongue exploring his as your kiss lingers for a long moment. Harry leans away and looks at you, and smiles.

“Wanted to do that for a long time, you know,” he says shyly, rubbing his hand along your hip, resting it on your waist.

“Why didn’t you?” you ask him, thinking his “long time” meant hours, days, maybe.

“You had a boyfriend,” he states, matter-of-factly. He leans to you once again as you wrap your arm up around his shoulder and pull your body into his. You kiss for another moment until you hear the doorbell downstairs. You stop kissing and look at each other, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Maybe they’ll go away, love,” he smiles before kissing you again, but you hear the doorbell again and Harry groans slightly.

“I’ll go see who it is. Hold that thought,” you sigh then move from underneath him as he lays back on the floor once again, smiling to himself, pleased that he had finally kissed you. You walk downstairs, smiling, and peek through the little peephole of the door, and see Kari’s eye on the other side, looking into the hole. “Geez!” you gasp, not expecting to see an eye up close. You open the door and Kari walks in.

“Feed me!” she begs. “Please! I’m starving, babe!” She notices the paint on your face and clothes and stands back. “Oh, is this a new look?”

You giggle at her. “Yeah, it’s known as Monet grunge. Is it me?” you say as you pose.

Kari kisses her cheek. “Sweetheart, you are always beautiful, even with paint face.”

“That’s the truth,” they hear Harry say as he descends the staircase, walking toward them.

“Oh! I’ve interrupted some weird sex thing, haven’t I?!” Your friend finally realizes the depth of what she just teased. “Have I?!” she says excitedly.

Harry giggles, as you explain. “Harry helped me paint the spare room today. We just finished a few minutes ago.”

“Oh,” she says, a frowning look of disappointment on her face. “Just actual painting, eh? Alright, then. Now, can you feed me, please? I’ve been drinking and need nourishment,” she begs again.

“No,” you refuse, “but I will order some food for delivery. Harry, you in for some food?”

“Sounds good, love,” he smiles.

The three of you enjoy some take-away and talk for awhile, until you see Kari has fallen asleep, in one of the big, comfy chairs in your living room. You look at her and sigh, then look at Harry as he grins at you. You stand and cover her with a blanket, then sit back down again on the sofa, Harry pulling you more closely to him.

“You’re a good friend to her,” he says, thinking your friendship with your best friend is cute.

“She’s a good friend,” you smile. “Good for my ego, too!” you laugh and Harry chuckles.

“Yeah, think she has a bit of a crush on you,” he says, smiling. “But who wouldn’t have?”

You smile at his comment, then look at your friend again. “In the couple of years I’ve lived here, she and I have been through a lot together. I met her the first day I landed in England, at the airport. She had just flown in from a trip somewhere, and Alex was late picking me up, so I sat for a long time waiting on him, and she sat down next to me and kept me company.”

“Just like that?,” he smiled.

“She’s a bit forward, if you’ve not noticed,” you both laugh. “When Alex didn’t show up after 40 minutes, she grabbed my hand and started pulling me to the door, saying I could stay with her until my ‘sod of a boyfriend’, as she called him, got off his ‘bloomin’ arse’ and decided to come get me. She and I just hit it off and have been best friends ever since.”

“It’s good to have one person you can always depend on,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “She does lack a good sense of timing though, doesn’t she?” he laughs.

You laugh and agree. “That she does. Who is that person for you, Harry? That person you can always depend on.”

“I’d say, choosing only one, my mum,” he says, grinning. “I think it’s important to be close with your family.”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I miss that sometimes.” He holds your hand sweetly, realizing you don’t have that with family anymore, and how that must feel.

“I hope you know, you can always depend on me,” he says, lovingly. “I’d like for us to spend more time together, if you want that, too, that is.” He takes his hand and caresses your jaw with it.

“I do want that, too,” you say, softly. He gently pulls your jaw closer and kisses you sweetly, then more deeply, as you let him pull you into him. You feel the rising heat of the kiss inside of you, before pulling away, as you hear Kari moan and giggle in her sleep, and you both look at her. Harry chuckles and kisses the side of your head, hugging you, then standing.

“I’m going to go, sweetheart,” he says. “Someone worked me to death today. Afraid I’m going to be feeling that for the next day or so,” he laughs quietly.

You stand and walk with him to the door, and like the feel of Harry holding your hand. You stand at the door and look at him with a grin.

“Thank you for helping me paint, today,” you say. “Would have taken me much longer without your help.”

“I didn’t mind at all,” he says. “It was fun. I always enjoy spending time with you.”

You smile at each other, as Harry leans in to you and kisses you sweetly, loving the taste of your lips, pulling you into another deep kiss. You feel his hands move to your waist as he pulls your body closely to his once again. Your hand finds his jaw as you return his kisses, until you are both nearly breathless.

“I also enjoy kissing you,” he grins.

“Can’t explain how much I enjoy it, too,” you agree.

He kisses you again, then opens the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you tell him. He leans to you once again, leaving brazen, little kisses on your lips, then walking away. He turns and waves to you and you wave back, watching as he leaves. You walk back inside, hear Kari snoring in her chair and leave a light on dim so she can see if she wakes, then go upstairs, shower, and go to bed.

*

Over the course of the next couple of weeks, you spend time with Harry as you both can, but he finds he has to travel back to LA for some work needing done. One night while he is there, he video calls you.

“Harry?” you ask sleepily, looking at the screen then turning on your light, as it’s middle of the night in London. You had assumed it was Kari, needing you to come pick her up somewhere, either lost or too drunk to find her way back home.

“Hello, love!” you hear Harry’s voice and see him in the sunshine on the screen. “Shit, I woke you, didn’t I? Forgot about the time difference for a second, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “How is LA?”

“Warmer than London, I’m guessing,” he chuckles, knowing the weather has turned bitter again in England. “Beautiful here, today. I wish you were here, you would love it. Ever been to LA?”

“Um,” you think, still a bit bleary-headed but waking. “Yeah, once when I was a kid, but I don’t really remember it very well. I was young.”

“I’d love to bring you here someday,” he says. “Could show you around a bit.”

“I’d like that,” you smile.

“I’m sorry I woke you. I was just thinking about you and wanted to see your face,” he explains.

“I’m glad you did,” you promise. “Always love to talk to you.” He smiles from you saying it, liking to hear it. He hoped you liked him as much as he did you. “When are you back, Harry?”

“Saturday,” he says. “My flight lands Saturday morning. Are you home then?”

“Actually, I have to work this weekend,” you say, sadly. “My supervisor has required everyone to work this weekend due to the big snowstorm we’re expecting next week. It’s due-in next Thursday, I think, and we have deadlines for printing.”

“That sucks having to work the weekend, though,” he says, disappointed.

“Yeah, it does,” you agree, “But it’s going to be good money. Double-and-a-half pay will help if we lose time from the snowstorm.”

“Still, you should get time off. That’s at least 10 days of work in a row,” he says.

“It’ll even out,” you say, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, is it will suck not getting to spend time with you this weekend, because you’ll be working,” he says, smiling, his dimples shining. “I was looking forward to spending some time with you. I’ve missed you,” he says with a shy grin.

“I’m sorry. I’ve missed you, too,” you say, disappointed. “Guess we both have our own work obligations. Mine making me work the weekend, yours making you work in LA.”

Harry sighs. “Too true, love. Alright, going to let you get back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’m not,” you smile and watch him smile. “Anytime, please.”

“I’ll remind you of that next time I call and it’s 3 in the morning,” he smiles. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” you say, then disconnect the call. You lay in bed, smiling and thinking about Harry until you fall asleep once again.

*

You work long hours the rest of the week, and by Saturday evening, you look at your vibrating phone which shows a call coming in from Harry. You smile, happy for the respite from your work.

“Hey! Make it back okay?”

“I did,” he says, happily. “How are you?”

“Working my life away,” you sort of joke. “Late night at the office.”

“You’re at work?” he asks, shocked. “Sweetheart, it’s after 10 at night!”

“Yes,” you say, resigned. “One of my co-workers refused to work the weekend and was abruptly fired, so guess who had to take over her column?”

“You’re doing your job and someone else’s? That doesn’t seem rightly fair,” he says.

“I’m getting a nice bonus because of it, so I’m not complaining,” you say, yawning.

“Love, I don’t like that you’ll be leaving so late,” he says. “It’ll take me a bit to get there, but let me come pick you up and get you home.”

“Harry, thank you, but it’s okay,” you assure him. “I’m staying at Kari’s tonight. She’s working, too, so we’ll just crash at her place. It’s not far from here, so it’ll be easier coming back tomorrow morning.”

“I really don’t mind,” he says, but you stop him.

“I appreciate it, but it’s late and I know you’re tired from traveling. I don’t want you to get out and drive all the way here, then all the way to my house and back home again. It’s really okay, and thank you for offering”.

He sighs heavily. “Alright. As much as I would love to see you, you’re right, I’m exhausted. Are you at least able to leave to go to Kari’s soon?”

“Yes,” you say with a tired voice. “I’m almost finished for tonight and she’s getting her things together now. Probably won’t even stop for food. I’m ready for my head to hit a pillow.”

“I can imagine so, babe,” he says, hearing how tired you are. “Get some sleep, and hopefully I can see you over the next couple of days. Let me know when you have time, okay?”

“I will,” you agree. “Working 15 hour days every day is wearing me down. I don’t know how you do that so often in your job.”

“Honestly, sometimes I don’t know either,” he chuckles. “Get sleep soon, love.”

You and Harry don’t get much chance to spend time together again for the next few days, with your long work hours and his schedule. You stay at Kari’s, collapsing to sleep every night, and Harry works long hours at the studio, and writing deadlines, so your time together is spent only in a couple of short phone conversations.

By Wednesday you are pressed for time, trying to finish your deadline. The weather forecasters are saying the storm is moving in a bit sooner than they had initially predicted, possibly even this evening rather than tomorrow. And as much as you love Kari, you have been living with her for nearly a week and you are just ready to be in your home again. You finally finish all of your work, submit it to your supervisor, and put on your coat to go outside into the blustery wind and cold. You are prepared this time, knowing the weather is getting bad, and have dressed appropriately in warmer clothes, snow boots and thick socks, and a heavy coat, with hat, scarf, and gloves. You had quite a walk from work to the nearest tube station, then another long walk from the station near your home, until you hit your front stoop. You stood on the warmer side of the glass doors, staring out at the hard-blowing snow. It’s wet snow, too, so you know the roads, if not already, were going to be a mess soon. You wrap your scarf tightly around your face and neck, pulling down your hat well over your ears, and tucking the ends of your gloves into your coat sleeves, trying to prevent any cold air from slipping inside. You open the doors and are nearly knocked off your feet by the strong winter winds, but find your balance and start the long walk to the tube station, hoping they’ve not started shutting them down due to the weather conditions. It takes much longer than usual, as you fight the winds, sometimes nearly being blown over by them. Finally after what felt like years, you step onto the platform and see you have a moment to sit and rest. It was exhausting and, even with the layers, you were freezing. As you sat waiting, you feel your phone vibrating inside your bra and pull it out with numb fingers. You see Harry’s name at the top of your screen and start to answer but then see the train pull up and stop, so you tuck it back inside your bra and step onto the crowded train car. You would call him as soon as you got home, he would understand. After the long trip to your home station, the train finally came to a stop. You made sure you were once again covered well before stepping back out into the frigid, strong winds.

Harry had tried calling your phone several times but got no answer, and you didn’t reply to his texts. He knew the storm had come in earlier than you had expected it to, and was worried about you getting home safely. He even called your office to see if you were still there, but was told you had left long ago. When he still had not reached you and was at his brink of worry and losing patience, he put on his warmest clothes and coat and got into his vehicle, flipping it into 4-wheel drive to combat the storm-ridden roads, then set off to try and find you. He slowly drove to where your tube station was, occasionally trying your phone again with no answers, then traced the roads back to your house, knowing the way you probably walked. It was dark, wet, terribly windy, and miserable out. He looked up and down the streets and sidewalks, hoping to see you somewhere.

“Come on, love, where are you?” he said to himself. Some of the roads were bad enough that they were already closing them due to high snow drifts and ice, and Harry had a bit of trouble a couple of times getting through. When he is within just a few blocks of your house, his eyes roam up and down the streets and sidewalks, until he sees the figure of a person walking slowly, trying to get through the snow and ice, then stopping as if needing to rest. Harry got closer, trying to see if it was you, or someone needing help, always willing to help when he can. He sees the person take another step then fall on their hands and knees into the icy snow, staying in that position for a moment, before trying to get up again. Harry pulls his car closer, then quickly gets out and goes to the person. He pulls the hood of his hoodie and coat over his woolen, cap-covered head, and bends to help the person up. He feels panic and relief all at the same time as he realizes the person is you.

“It’s me, babe,” Harry hollers against the strong winds. “Come on!” He helps you up, but you have trouble walking, your legs and feet frozen and barely able to move anymore. “The car’s just here!” He puts his arms around your waist and practically lifts you off the ground, moving you to the passenger side of the car and helping you inside, then closing the door. He runs back to his side, climbing in, and slamming the door closed. He looks at you with worry. “Are you okay?” he asks, but you are too frozen to speak, and past the point of exhaustion, closing your eyes and leaning against the head rest of the leather seat. He makes sure the heat is on full blast then as quickly as the weather will allow, he drives to your home and into the driveway. Coming around to your side of the car, he helps you to the front door, where he finds your keys in your pocket and unlocks the door, getting you both inside the house before closing the door behind you. You are both breathing heavily, and he notices the ice hanging on your hat and scarf, and on the wisps of hair that have come out from under your winter cap. “Babe, are you okay?” he asks, as he helps get your wet outer clothes off of you. You don’t answer, not really hearing him, just looking at him through exhausted eyes, like you aren’t sure if you are dreaming or not. He pulls off the scarf and hat and removes his own, then rubs the skin on your face. “Come on, love.”

He helps you into the living room and starts a fire in the fireplace. He sees you are just standing, not moving, not talking. He grabs the floor pillows and warm blankets, and pulls your coat the rest of the way off of you. “Sit here in front of the fireplace,” he says as he helps you down to the floor, knowing your limbs are probably freezing and painful to move. He wraps a blanket around you, removing his coat and sitting closely to you, his legs around you and wrapping his arms around you, covering your legs with another blanket. “Better?” he asks as he feels you shaking. He sees you nod your head and rubs your arms and legs, trying to improve the circulation you’ve lost from the freezing temperatures. He kisses the side of your face, feeling it’s still freezing. After a bit, he thinks you feel a bit less rigid and more relaxed. “How are you doing, love?”

“So tired,” you say, nearly at a whisper.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” he says. “Crazy girl, trying to walk all that long way in this weather. I’m just glad I found you.”

“Couldn’t get…my legs…to work anymore,” you say quietly and shakily.

“It’s okay,” he comforts you. “Gonna get you all warmed up now. I’m just going to go fix us both a hot drink. You stay here in front of the fire, alright?” You nod, he kisses the side of your head, then stands and goes to the kitchen to make the drinks. In a few minutes, Harry walks back into the living room, just as the electricity goes out. He stops for a second, thankful for the light of the fireplace. He looks and sees you lying down on one of the large pillows in front of the fire. He sets the mugs on the hearth then sits next to you. “Come on, love,” he takes your hand. “Made us some hot toddy’s. That should help warm you up inside and out.” You sit up and take the mug from him, your hands still shaking but not as badly. “Power’s out now. Good thing for the fireplace, yeah?”

You nod, taking another drink. “It’s good, thanks,” you say, holding the cup out a bit, then taking another sip.

“Not everyone’s liking, but when you’re cold, it hits the spot,” he says with a grin, sipping his own.

You take another sip then set the mug back on the hearth, pulling the blanket back up to your chin, then hiding your face in its warmth for a moment.

“Feeling better?” he asks, rubbing your back.

“Yeah, much,” you say, looking at him. “Thank you for coming looking for me.” He grins at you. “Why did you?”

“Couldn’t find you,” he says, moving hair from your face. “I knew you left work. I called and they said. You weren’t answering your phone. The worry just kept building. I wanted to make sure you got home safely, that you were okay.”

He grins at you again as you look at him. You’re not used to people being that way with you. You’ve always been the one who took care of everyone else. He’s always been sweet to you, and you know he cares for you, but to risk going out in a winter storm to make sure you were safe…even Alex wouldn’t have done that. You lean to him and kiss him sweetly on his lips, feeling him pull you slightly closer to him. You pull back a bit, then he sees you shake again, seeing the exhaustion still in your eyes.

“How about we lay here and rest for a bit, hm? No power for awhile, I’m guessing,” he says, then adjusts the large floor pillows so you both can rest comfortably in front of the fire. “Gonna have to share those blankets though,” he giggles, and you smile, then lay on the pillow, facing the fire. Harry lies down behind you, covering you both well with the blankets, then putting his arm around your waist and kissing the side of your face, then your neck and shoulder. “Rest, babe.”

*

You have no idea how long the two of you lay in front of the fire sleeping, but it was still dark when you woke, hearing Harry snoring lightly in your ear. Somehow you had managed to turn around and was facing him. He was holding your hand in one of his, and had his other arm under your pillow. You lay beside him, watching him sleep, and thinking. Harry must really like you to have done what he did. At first you felt he maybe had just felt sorry for you after Alex hurt you, and just wanted to be a friend to you. Then over time, you questioned in your mind your level of friendship, or if he wanted more. But his kiss. You’d always heard that you can tell a lot about a person by the kiss you share. You didn’t know what that meant for the longest time, but maybe you were beginning to understand better. You never really felt much of anything when Alex kissed you. But Harry…that was a different story all together. When Harry kissed you, you felt it from your reeling head to your curled toes. He made you feel like all he wanted was to taste your essence. Like you are the most delicate dessert that he can never get enough of.

You lay, watching his lips. The perfect shade of pink, you think. And so soft and gentle. You watch them as he sleeps next to you, feeling the burning desire inside of you to feel his kiss again. You didn’t want to wake him, but God, you loved his kisses. You gently snuggle closer to him and lightly kiss his lips, then pull back and watch him continue to sleep. You lean to him again, placing your tender kiss on his lips, lingering a moment longer, then feeling his own kiss you back as his hand squeezes yours lightly. You pull away again and look at his face, as he opens his eyes, gazing at you. You see the firelight in his eyes as he watches you. You swear when he looks at you, he must be able to see straight into your deepest thoughts and feelings. You study each other, saying nothing, as you lean toward him and kiss him once more, your lips melting into each other naturally. You feel his hand release yours as it travels to your waist, your back, drawing you closer to him, as his breath seems to catch in his throat for a short moment. You feel his leg wrap around yours as he kisses you almost desperately. You slowly move your mouth from his, to his jaw, peppering kisses and nibbles along the precision line and down his neck. You hear a light moan from his throat as he rubs his hand up and down your back, kneading your ass, your thigh, pulling your body as firmly against his as he can with clothes on. Your mouth trails to his Adam’s apple and kisses it, then lowers inside of his shirt, kissing his tatted chest.

He moves his face to yours, kissing you deeply, then traces his lips down your neck, leaving little bites along the way, loving how you whimper slightly from them. You feel his hand moving inside your shirt, over your ribs, then smoothing his hand lightly over your bra-covered breast. He lifts the fabric of your shirt, kissing the silky top of your breast over the lace trim of your bra, slowly inching the lace down, revealing your nipple. He breathes you into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, teasing it into a hard nub. He tastes you before turning you enough to treat the other the same. You watch him as he looks at your breasts, full as they are, fitting perfectly in his large hands as he massages them, suckling them with his mouth until he is satisfied with how erect and saliva-soaked your nipples have become. He traces his mouth back to yours and kisses you passionately, his breathing increasing as his hands find your waist. Nipping at your lips, he feels your hand move to the large log growing rapidly in his jeans. He moans at your touch, kissing you even more intensely. He lifts you enough to pull your shirt over your head and unclasps the hooks of your bra, as you make haste of unbuttoning and removing his shirt. His eyes trail to his jeans, seeing your hand freeing him of them. Harry impatiently slides his jeans down and off, his socks being lost in the denim heap at his feet, then turning back to you. You gasp slightly as you see his tattoos, prominent against the fire light. Those tattoos do something to you, and it had been ages since you’d seen them. You lean to him, planting kisses on some of them, darting your tongue over one of his nipples, then nuzzling your face into his soft curls as you feel him unfastening your jeans, while sucking and pulling on your breasts once again.

“Lie back, baby,” he whispers. You do as he says, as he pulls your jeans down your body, still slightly damp from the snow earlier in the evening. He looks at you, lying on the floor in front of him, naked except for your lacy pink panties. His eyes roam up and down your body slowly, as if he is trying to memorize every measure of you, making you squirm slightly but turned on all the same. He slowly moves over you, like a panther about to devour his prey, and says with wild eyes, “So beautiful.”

You reach your hands to touch his tattoos, then his ribs, as he leans down and kisses you once again. That kiss. It does things to you that you can’t exactly explain. Harry presses his chest against yours, as his mouth kisses from your lips to the crook of your neck, traveling down until reaching your collarbone, where he once again nibbles and bites at you, sometimes to the point of slight pain, but it was a good pain that you didn’t want to stop. He slowly kisses his way down your body before parting your legs and settling himself between them. He massages your hips as he kisses across your tummy and groin, then lower further, leaving wet kisses on the insides of your thighs, causing you to barely breathe. He nuzzles his nose into the fabric of your panties from between your legs, up to your most sensitive spot, then kisses it, pulling at your clit through the fabric. Your breasts move rhythmically with your increased breathing, as Harry continues to tease your clit over your panties, until they become soaked from your own wetness. Harry notices the saturated fabric and moans, kissing the damp softness of your panties. He looks at you again as your eyes meet, then looks again between your legs, pulling the panties from your body and tossing them on the floor next to you. He places light, sucking kisses above your clit, enjoying your soft, shaven mound, then nudging your clit lightly with the tip of his nose as you catch your breath. He spreads your thighs further apart, holding them down and out of his way, before planting kisses on your lips, parting them with one finger, that then gently slides inside of you. He hears your breathing change slightly, as he nibbles on your inner thighs, kissing each sting to soothe it away. Harry sucks in his breath as he slides two fingers along your slick folds, lightly coating your clit with your wetness, then pushes them inside of you again, his tongue teasing your clit gently.

There was something about the fact that neither of you were saying anything. Normally you loved good dirty talk. Turned you on like nobody’s business. You were a firm believer that a really good kiss, or amazing filthy talk, are some of the best foreplay there is. But the fact that it was completely quiet except for the crackling fire, the spitting ice and snow against the house, and Harry’s mouth tasting your body, somehow made it very intimate. Like he was taking his time, learning what you like, wanting to pleasure you beyond your expectations, better than you have ever experienced.

You gasp loudly, suddenly shocked out of your thoughts, as you feel Harry’s hot, wet tongue plunge deeply inside of you. He presses his face firmly between your legs, as you feel his moan vibrating against your most sensitive parts. You feel him swipe his tongue from your lips up to your clit, not once, not twice, but three times, each time a bit more slowly and intentionally, and you moan loudly from the intense pleasure of it. You’ve never been quiet in sex, and Harry was learning this quickly, but it told him he was making you feel exactly as he wanted you to, exactly what you needed to feel. He looks up at you as he suctions his lips around your clit, teasing it with his tongue, his fingers finding their way inside of you again, curling up and pulling back to him slowly, over and over again, against the spot he knows will do you in. You moan his name loudly, your hand moving to his curls, pulling his face against you, slowly bucking up against each stroke of his fingers inside you, causing him to moan but not let go of your slippery nub. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so much during sex. You look at him again, seeing only his curls between your legs as he works eagerly to make sure you are enjoying it as much as he is. He kisses your clit, looking at your face as he feels you squeezing his fingers. His tongue traces lightly over you as he continues working you inside. He swallows hard, pressing his nose against your tiny button, licking you from his hand to your sensitive nerves over and over. He feels you clamp tightly around his fingers and watches your face as you begin to tremor in orgasm. You moan “Harry!” loudly as your body trembles and quakes with overwhelming release. You hear him moan more aggressively as his lips and mouth smack and drink your juices, cleaning you thoroughly with his strong tongue. Your hands grab the blanket under you, balling it in your fists as you slowly learn how to breathe again, looking up at the ceiling as you feel Harry’s fingers move from inside you and rub you gently along your slit, soothing you, then crawling up your body. You see the glistening remnants of you on his chin and cheeks and now brightly red and swollen lips, shining from the fire’s glow against his face. He smears his hand lightly over his face, then kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his mouth. He pulls back again and you still see the wild look in his eyes.

“Again, love?” he asks.

***********************

Thank you for reading Chapter Two of For The Love Of Harry. I hope you liked it, and I welcome your feedback, asks, and comments. Thank you for the good response to Chapter One. I will begin working on Chapter Three this week, and I’m curious to read your reaction to Chapter Two. How you respond to my writings will determine if I continue writing stories to post, so please, if you like it, let me know! Also I will be starting my Music Series, a collection of Harry short stories and one shots, based on songs and lyrics, as well as creating a Masterlist if it seems people are enjoying my writings. Please keep in mind I’m used to writing in screenplay format, so adapting my stories for posting is new to me, and I apologize for any mistakes. And I still deal with my smut-demons, so Harry, if you read any of this and are offended, please feel free to let me know and it is history! :) Thanks for reading!

BUSTED [PERCY WEASLEY]

request: “hi, could you do percy (or any other weasley other than twins) x reader where molly walks in while things are getting heated if you know what i mean (no smut if that makes you uncomfortable!)” — by anon

a/n: hello, anon! well, to be frank, i do not write smut. not because i’m uncomfortable with it, but because i am so bad at writing it down and i also tend to laugh a lot when i am doing so lol. anyways, i did this with percy because it was the first name you said. i hope you like it, even if it is kinda short hehe :-)

Masterlist Request box here!

It took your parents a whole damn lot of convincing before they agreed that you could spend your holidays with the Weasleys. They liked Percy, of course, but still, they knew the both of you were teenagers — and well, as parents, they were aware of the raging hormones that tend to occur at your age (admittedly making you uncomfortable when they gave you the ‘talk’ before letting you go).

Even Molly, Percy’s mum, had been keeping an eye on the both of you ever since the day you stepped foot inside the house. You weren’t oblivious to this and honestly, you didn’t mind. Percy, on the other hand, would sometimes groan in annoyance whenever the both of you would be interrupted by his mother, especially when she would suddenly squeeze between the both of you while watching the telly.

“Finally.” Percy grinned before silently shutting the door. “We finally have privacy.” he sighed in delight as he joins you in your bed, making you close the book you were reading to raise an eyebrow towards your boyfriend.

“You do know that you are not allowed to be here, especially with the door closed.” you smirked.

He shrugged, “Mum’s out, said she’ll be buying something for dinner. And it’s not like my siblings are interested in what’s going on in here.”

“So much for being a prefect.” You disapproving clicked your tongue in a teasing manner.

Percy rolled his eyes and finally pressed his lips against yours, something he hasn’t been doing a lot because of the way his family has been keeping a close eye on the two of you.

You smiled, placing a hand behind his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. The butterflies in your stomach was going crazy and so was the beat of your heart, hammering fast as you feel your head gently hit the pillow.

“I definitely missed this.” Percy hummed against your neck, his lips caressing your skin while one of his hands was going lower and lower as each second passed.

Just as his palm made its way to your thigh, the door abruptly opened and you, who had heard it first, pushed Percy quickly away from your body, causing him to fall on the floor with a rather loud thud!

Percy huffed a breath, “What the bloody hell was that?” he complained before turning sideways to see Molly Weasley with a disapproving look on her face. “Oh, hello, mum. Back so early?” he sheepishly smiled, the color on his face draining away.

“Yes, I’ve forgotten something and was about to offer Y/N if she wanted to come with me, but seeing as the both of you are very busy —”

“Mrs. Weasley, it’s not what it looks like.” you cut in with your face glowing red because of embarrassment.

Molly seemed to be hiding a smile as she looks at you, “Don’t worry, dear, I won’t tell your parents about this.” she then turned to her son, “but Percy, you and I need to talk. With your father, might I add. Downstairs.” she gave him a knowing gaze before walking out.

Once she was gone, you took a deep breath. “She’s not going to disown you, is she?” you asked him, your tone half serious and half joking.

Percy stood up from his position. “I sure hope not,” he played along. “though if she did, you’re clearly the one to blame since you’re so keen at seducing your boyfriend.”

“I wasn’t doing anything.” you reminded him with a grin.

“Then was it I who seduced you?” he teased.

You were about to throw another remark but then Molly’s voice was heard yet again from downstairs, “Percy Ignatius Weasley! What is taking you so long?” she shouted.

“I’m coming, mum!” he yelled back, turning to you one last time. “This isn’t over, Y/N.” he narrowed his eyes playfully to your direction, waltzing out of your room then to meet his parents.

You laughed quietly to yourself as soon as you were alone, picking up the book you previously held and thinking that this was going to be one hell of a holiday with the Weasleys.

Waiting- Sherlock x reader

Originally posted by silent-micka

This is one of the longest one shots ever. i hope you enjoy!

_______________________

Five Hours

It’s been five hours, and Sherlock Holmes couldn’t keep still. He couldn’t quite fathom how men can just sit around and pray for the best while their significant other is giving birth. Anything could happen in there, she could–
Sherlock closes his eyes, trying not to think of anything that could potentially set him off. He takes a breath and starts pacing again. The only thing that calmed him slightly is the fact that a doctor came out with a few broken fingers, apparently she held onto his hand a little too tightly.
“Maybe it would be better if you sit down Sherlock.” John says, trying to get his best friend to calm down. He knows what it’s like to feel this way, he was in his place not too long ago with Mary. “I’m Fine.” Sherlock quips, not bothering to even glance John’s way, in his nervous state the man would snap at air if it passed by too harshly.
“She’s going to be fine Dear.” Mrs. Hudson says, smiling kindly at him. “I’m afraid it’ll be no use trying to reassure him Mrs. Hudson, he wouldn’t  sit until it’s over.” Mycroft comments, looking up from his cell phone to stare at his brother, who so far hadn’t even acknowledge them being there.
Everyone had come by when they got the news, Molly was here a moment ago, but she had to get back to work. Mary’s busy with Rosie and couldn’t come, but she’s been phoning every hour to keep posted. Lestrade stood, leaning against the wall, nervously biting his fingernails. Sherlock could imagine how wrecked the man must be feeling, that is his niece, who’s giving birth to his child, things can go both ways.
Sherlock sits down, tapping his foot against the floor, and decides to block out his nerves and reminiscence.

Nine months ago.

It was early, really early. The sun was coming over the skyline, and Sherlock was stepping back into 221B. He had just finished a tough case, he left Y/n asleep and hoped that his coming back didn’t wake her. He walks into his flat, the only light coming from the rising sun, he walks quietly to his room only to find the bed empty and the sheets askew. “Y/n?” he calls, slightly panicked at the thought that something may have happened while he was out.
“Yeah?” her muffled reply comes from the closed bathroom door,
she sounded odd, her voice was quieter than normal, and Sherlock could hear the tremble behind it. “Are you alright?” he knocks lightly on the door, moving back when the toilet flushes and the door opens, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” she mutters, waving him off. She had just woken up Sherlock notices, her hair was a matted mess and she was still pretty much asleep. So Sherlock guides her back into the bedroom, chuckling when she plants face first into the mattress.
Hours later, Sherlock woke up to yet again an empty bed and Y/n’s hushed voice coming from the living room. He slowly tumbles out of bed, following the sound of her voice, she stood by the window, her back to him and her phone pressed to her ear.
“No. I’m freaking out here. Mary, what am I supposed to do about this now?” The h/c girl questions, she goes silent as Mary replies and groans, running a hand through her hair, “Mary. I need help with this.”
“Need help with what?”
Y/n jumps, spinning around to face her boyfriend who was standing at the door, eyeing her curiously looking half asleep. “Oh. We need milk.” she lies, hoping that in his sleepy state he wouldn’t see through it. She turns again, speaking into her phone, “Mary, I’ll call you back.” before tossing the thing carelessly to the chair. Sherlock shrugs, the lie not registering in his mind, his brain still foggy with sleep. “I’ll go get some.” She says quickly, grabbing her phone from the chair, and her coat. Kissing Sherlock’s cheek, “Back in a bit.” Sherlock pouts at the girl’s retreating form before walking to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. A full carton of milk was staring back at him, they have milk, why lie to get out?
What is she hiding?
                        ________

“Y/n?”
“Hmm?”
The girl sat in Sherlock’s arm chair, her back against the left arm and her legs over the right. A plate of Ginger nut cookies balanced on her stomach and a glass of milk on the ground. What puzzled the detective, is the fact that she doesn’t eat Ginger nut cookies, she doesn’t like them. “You’re eating Ginger nut,” he states, turning to face her from where he stood by the window. She looks at the half eaten cookie in her hand and then to him, “Yeah.. And?”
Sherlock raises his eyebrow, “You don’t.” Y/n smiles lightly, shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t know, I just felt like eating them, they’re not quite bad actually.” She says. Sherlock looks at her for a moment, brushing it off as one of her cravings, she usually has them when she’s on her monthlies. But, even then. It’s never Ginger nut.
                        _______

Y/n sits in the bathroom, clutching the pregnancy test in her hand. She had taken it again, just to be sure, even though all the signs are there, she wanted to be absolutely positive before she blurts it out to Sherlock. “I’m going to tell him tonight, But I want to ease it in first. Don’t wanna startle him.” she says into the phone, hearing Mary’s laugh she smiles, “He’d be startled either way. I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out yet.” Honestly, Mary is the best person to talk to about this, she is a mother and she had been through this before, so no better person to tell. She told John as well, and he informed her on what to eat and what not to eat, and all other important stuff she should take note of.
“You know he can’t read me that well, it’s a blessing really.” She chuckles, placing the test on the edge of the sink. Leaving the bathroom and into the quiet flat, Sherlock went to the Yard to talk to Greg about something or another. And Y/n took that as a great opportunity to get things done, and one of those things: Home cooked meal.
Something she’s sure Sherlock hasn’t had in a good while. Because one, the little shit says that digestion slows him down and refuses to eat days at a time. Sometimes I could just strangle that man. Y/n thinks, setting up the dining table, nothing like home cooked pasta right?
Sherlock steps through the door, sighing heavily, and Y/n smiles at him, “Was it that bad?”
“Yes. Mr. Summers died of a poison that his wife administrated by putting it in his tea….” Sherlock trails of, watching the girl walk back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. “You cooked.” he states, So that’s what I smelled.
Y/n smiles at him, standing by the table, “Yup,”
After eating, Sherlock and Y/n were sitting on the couch, watching the telly, everything was fine, until Sherlock decided he wanted to use the bathroom.
Oh Gosh! I left the test there!
Before Y/n could begin to panic Sherlock was already up and closing the bathroom door. Well there goes easing it in.
Sherlock comes back out almost immediately, staring at her wide-eyed, not only looking at her confused but he also looks scared.
“I didn’t notice….” he mumbles while Y/n chuckles nervously, wringing the end of her jumper in her hand, “That you’re..” Sherlock trails off, going through all the things he noticed but refused to acknowledge. “Oh.”
“I was going to tell you… eventually.” Y/n says as Sherlock slowly walk to her, sitting down slowly as of he was in a daze. He blinks rapidly before turning to face her, “I am… going to be a father?”
“Yes.”
Sherlock was scared, okay, that was an understatement. The man was down right terrified, What is he supposed to do? What do they do? Because this is his responsibility as much as hers. One, Sherlock doesn’t think he could do this. Two, Lestrade is going to kill him, and he’d have his spirit solving his murder.
But on top of all of that, he is happy, actually, really excited. He’s going to be a father.
Y/n looks at Sherlock as he just stares blankly at the floor, “Sherlock.”
I knew he’d be shocked, I didn’t think his brain would shut down on him.
“Hey. You in there?” Y/n calls, Sherlock blinks again before looking at her, his eyes calm now. “I’m alright….” he pulls her into a hug without another word, and Y/n breathes in his familiar scent of mint and nicotine. “Are you sure you want this? It’s fine if you don’t.” She mumbles against his neck, and he pulls away, looking at her, his dark eyebrows furrowed.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you’re Sherlock Holmes and you don’t know how to deal with this.” She whispers and Sherlock smiles slightly, “I’m willing to try.”

                        _______

It’s been Nine months, and Y/n is expecting her baby soon, and she was spending the night with Mary. John and Sherlock were out on a case, and it left the girls time to catch up.
Mary had just left to see about Rosie and Y/n was in the kitchen, making tea when it happened. A clench in her stomach and liquid running down her legs.
“Oh God. Mary!”
                     
                    _______

“Don’t worry, they’ll both be fine.” John reassures, putting a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. As he continues to tap his foot, Mycroft purses his lips at his brother, about to say something when a nurse walks over to them. “Um, Sherlock Holmes?” she calls and Sherlock stands, the nurse smiles at him, “Congratulations, Mr. Holmes, it’s a boy.”
He follows the nurse down the hall, Mycroft a few steps behind. “She’ll be resting now,” the nurse says, stopping in front of a door, opening it. Sherlock walks in, Y/n was in fact sleeping, The nurse leaves them to it. Mycroft stands by the door and quietly clears his throat, handing Sherlock a medium sized box he didn’t even notice he had. Chocolates, he presumes, since Y/n likes them so much.
“Congratulations little brother, I’ll be in touch.” Mycroft says, smiling at Sherlock, “As always brother dear.” Sherlock replies, Mycroft smiles again, turning on his heel to leave, “Do give my love to Y/n when she wakes.” he says over his shoulder.
Greg comes up the hall, telling Sherlock that he has an emergency at the Yard that he needs to attend to immediately, and to call him when Y/n wakes up. Sherlock closes the door behind him, walking to the visitor chair, sitting down. After placing the box of chocolates down, he takes her hand in his. Looking at her sleeping face, ever so peaceful, despite the pain she went through. Curiously, Sherlock picks up the box of chocolates again, opting to take a peak, just to see if Mycroft brought her favorite.
“Don’t you dare eat that. I’ll castrate you.” A quiet voice warns, Y/N was looking at him through one eye, and Sherlock smiles. “Always a threat love.” he chuckles. She smiles tiredly, her thumb running over his knuckles. “Only because I want to kill you. I am never doing that again.” she laughs, a small knock on the door and the nurse that lead Sherlock to the room comes in with a small bundle in her arms. She smiles, carefully handing the baby to his mother, “I feel like I have to say congratulations every time, he’s adorable.” the nurse gushes, smiling again.
Y/n chuckles, looking down at her son wrapped up in soft blue blankets. The nurse quietly leaves, and Sherlock smiles, “He’s perfect.” he says tearfully, “I’m going to name him William, after his father.” Y/n says, smiling at Sherlock and he smiles back, gently squeezing her hand in his.
By the door, John smiles, there’s only a few times he’s gotten to see Sherlock genuinely happy. But, this is way pass the word.

Tag List : @cutie1365 @dontstoptime

See Me

Summary: Modern AU Professor Tom creates a worry-free evening for his elementary school teacher wife after a long week at work.

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Rating/Warning: M - Possibly me being overly cautious.  Perhaps not everyone’s cup of tea.  Contains use of “Daddy” and things of that nature.  Non-explicit shenanigans.  You have been warned.  

Author’s Notes:  This is for @i-wanna-be-toms-body-pillow so blame her.  <3

He met her at the door.

It had been such a difficult week.

A week of assessments and stress and suits in state offices deciding what “standards” meant.

A week of runny noses and tears and little hands that always needed something.

A week of never ending reports and meetings and late nights.

But now she was home.

Now she was in his arms.

Now she could rest.

Now she could cry.

Keep reading

Got Her (Sherlock x Reader)

Title: Got Her

Pairing: Sherlock x reader
Author: @whatthehellisacastiel (Kat)
Words: 1,843
Warnings: Not much. Some cussing and kidnapping.

Author’s note: I had a lot to think about for this one. I made a plan and this story is going to be in 2 parts, maybe three.

Request: Could i get a request for sherlock x reader, where she is kidnapped by Moriarty and Sherlock and her brother (john) have to solve clues to find her? Thank you x
- anonymous

Summary: You were John’s little sister and managed to find yourself into his and Sherlock Holmes’ mess of a life. What happens when a criminal mastermind kidnaps you? Will the detective you’ve fallen for and your brother save you in time?

————————————–

Truth be told that Sherlock never expected to have a single friend, nevertheless two. Two Watsons, both equally insufferable but both his best friends. He’s met John in a lab after an acquaintance of his mentioned to John that Sherlock was looking for a flatmate. Fast forward a few months later you arrived at Baker Street after settling in London yourself to see your older brother. You met Sherlock first and much to everyone’s surprise, the two of you got along nicely. Somehow, you had become a daily part of their daily lives. When you weren’t working, you were either at Baker Street or out helping your brother and Sherlock with a case. Sherlock refrained from thinking back to a time when he didn’t have either you or John by his side, for once in his life he was content with everything going on around him.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you do something where Harry has a father/daughter moment with Lily Luna? Like maybe she gets in a fight and he gives her some fatherly advice?

A/N: On a roll!  But this is probably the end of the roll because school work etc now ha!  There’s always next weekend though.  I tried very hard to be parental in this fic but I’m not a parent so grain of salt hehe

Also available on FF and Ao3!


Jumble

Harry’s hanging his cloak when Ginny’s arms wrap around him from behind and she presses a kiss to his shoulder.  “Our daughter came home with a black eye today.”

He tamps down on the shock of distress that shoots down his spine at Ginny’s laughing tone.  If she’s joking it can’t be that bad.  “All better?”

Ginny hums against his back. “Aye.  Can’t say the same for the other fellow.”

“Cage matches at the kiddie park now?” Harry asks, turning to wrap his arms around her waist and leaning back against the deep wood of the door.

If he listens closely, Albus and James’ voices trickle out of the living room, debating some show they’re watching on the telly, but it sounds like two of his children aren’t feeling violent today so he refocuses.  “Are we going to have a parent issue?  With the other kid?”

They move to the kitchen where the smell of roast chicken is strong enough to make Harry’s mouth water and Ginny smirks at him as he snatches a still warm roll from the covered basket she has waiting for dinner.  “Mum sent those over.  Knows we’ve had a busy week and those are your favorites.”

He moans in approval. “She’s getting an extra Christmas gift this year.”

Ginny laughs as she prods the green beans where they’re boiling on the stovetop.  “To answer your question, no problem with the parents. Since their kid punched too they decided to be reasonable people and we all just left.”

“She gets this from your family.”

“Do you really want to go there, Potter?” Ginny drawls, sharpening the carving knife and putting it far from the reach of grabby hands.

“Touché,” Harry answers with a smirk that turns to a frown when Ginny slaps his hand away from the rolls. “Do we know what started the row?”

Pausing as she pulls the dishes from the cabinets, Ginny shrugs.  “She was pretty tight lipped on the way home.  Wanted to leave her for a bit.  I did say no dessert though.”

Harry kisses her cheek as he passes, moving toward the stairs.  “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

Waving her understanding, Ginny calls out, “Twenty minutes!  And no shoes in the bedrooms!”

Boots abandoned in the entryway, Harry jogs up the stairs, laughing faces following him from behind picture frames as he goes.  He pulls a face at the miniature George that sticks his tongue out but schools his features once he reaches Lily’s door.  It’s remarkably bare, save the Harpies lanyard that dangles from the knob.

With two short knocks, Harry announces his entry and peeks through the partially opened door. “Anybody in there?”

Lily’s curled up on her side, back to him, but he can tell from her breathing pattern she’s still awake. It’s one of those weird parent things he never really believed would happen to him, but he’s somehow memorized each of his children’s breathing patterns – he knows how they breath when they’re awake, asleep, sick, angry. And that’s what his youngest is right now.  Angry.

“Can I come in Sprite?”

She twists around and nods ever so slightly, ears red like her uncle’s. 

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Harry enters the room and settles on the bed behind her, fingers carding through her trademark Weasley red hair.  “Alright?”

An answer comes in the form of a jerky shoulder shrug, but he presses on nonetheless.  “Heard you had an exciting day at the park.”

“She was makin’ fun of Al.”

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Puzzle Pieces

Hello! This is for #4WKSofFluff! The goal is to write snowbaz fluff every day in June!

Puzzle Pieces

SIMON

Agatha’s in town for her mother’s birthday, but I suspect its for something else. Two months ago when it was her father’s birthday, she didn’t visit.

Penny and Agatha talk sometimes over the internet, but not enough to know anything about me and Baz.

Not like Agatha has any say in who I date. Not like she had any say ever.

Baz wants to tell Agatha, it’s part of his evil supervampire complex. I don’t. She doesn’t matter to me, not anymore.

That evening, Baz stays the night. He stays over most nights now, too knackered to take the extra stops on the train to his own flat.

He just got off school for half-term break for a week, which seemed like too perfect timing in correlation to Agatha’s visit.

I watch his skinny figure crawl into bed with me, and I move closer towards him.

Thats how it is most days. By day, Baz has too much pride to admit he loves me and I don’t have enough pride to admit it. But, by night, everything fades away in the secret of the night.

I look up to meet his eyes, and Baz looks away. That’s how I know he’s with me, the Baz I know. The Baz that he presents to everyone is conceited, arrogant, and putting on a show.

That Baz would glare at me, but he isn’t that Baz.

This Baz… who avoids my eye contact and snuggles into me without question is more than the Baz I know. He’s my Baz.

“How was school today?” I ask, propping myself up on one shoulder.

“Stressful.” He admits. “The last day before break always is.”

I shrug at him and grin. “Well at least you have a week of now.”

Baz smiles. “Yeah.” He drawls.

We both lay back in bed, and I feel him kiss the mole on my neck.

I don’t confront it anymore, funny how quick you can get used to a certain lifestyle.

“Simon, can we tell Wellbelove about us?” I roll on my side but his arms pull me back into the centre of the bed.

“Why does this bother you? I’ll tell Agatha when the opportunity arises.”

Baz sneers. “Yeah, because I’m totally cool with your ex coming to stay for five days.”

“Four.” I correct.

“And… its not like I love her. Not like I loved her for a long time.” I kiss him at the corner of his jaw to cement my affirmation.

He takes off his shirt and I do too, sliding under the covers for bed.

“Night, Snow.”

“G'Night, Baz.”

We both face each other and the tips of his hair tickle my nose while his face is buried in my hair.

PENNY

I really should have told Agatha about Simon and Baz.

“Oh hey, your ex and your crush are together now, just a heads up.” Crowley, these boys.

They don’t get up until midday anyways, God knows what they get up to.

I’m up earliest, and Agatha is basically here at the crack of dawn.

“Hey Penny.” She says a little awkwardly, but I just pull her into a hug.

“Sorry for being so early, time zones.” I shrug it off and laugh.

“No worries! Would you like some breakfast, or tea, maybe?”

She nods and follows me into the dining room, which is just a few inches away from Simon’s room.

Merlin and Morgana, help me.

-

It’s almost one in the afternoon and neither Simon nor Baz had left their room.

Merlin and Morgana and Methuselah, help me.

Me and Agatha are sipping our tea, but I can see the thoughts plain on her face.

“Where’s Simon?” I imagine her saying at every second she’s silent.

Agatha stands up and wipes her mouth.

“Penny, could you direct me to the toilets?”

“Yup, first door down the hall.”

She walks down the hall and I hear a surprised exclamation, too much of an indicator that she opened the wrong first door.

SIMON

Me and Baz were kissing when we heard the door click. I immediately know who it is, since Penny would rather die than open our door in the mornings.

That’s the thing, we’re both morning people. (Or, I am; Baz is a vampire so he gets burned by sunlight first thing in the morning.)

“Wellbelove, what the hell.”

She gasps and I see her jaw visibly drop.

AGATHA

I open the door to see Simon and Baz half naked. In bed. Snogging.

Baz registers it first. “Wellbelove, what the hell.” I gasp again and slam the door shut.

I walk down the hall to Penny sipping her tea silently. Does she know?

“Penny, I think Simon…” I never finish my sentence because Simon and Baz walk out the door, holding hands!

Simon’s wearing Baz’s jumper. I recognize that jumper because its the same one he wore last Christmas.

I’m practically glaring at them when Baz rolls his eyes and scoffs. He looks and Simon and kisses him, and Simon kisses him back! Crowley, what is going on.

“Does that answer your question?” He raises an eyebrow and Simon holds Baz’s hand tighter.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I say kind of numbly.

“Great.” He leads Simon into the kitchen and heats up two cherry scones. Baz puts lots of butter in Simon’s and gives it to him.

They then walk over to the couch and turn on the telly, and Simon is cuddling with Baz! All this time I’ve been standing in that one spot, so I move back to the chair I was sitting in earlier.

Some time later, Baz stands up and starts to walk out the door. Simon whispers something in his ear but Baz nods in disagreement.

Simon is frowning, but Baz kisses him on the neck and he seems to ease up.

Penny lets herself out and walks to what I suspect is her room.
Once she’s gone, I immediately rush over to Simon, cupping my hands to fit his face.

He flinches and takes a step back.
“Simon, are you being abused?” I whisper, just in case Baz might be nearby.

It seems as if the Simon I know wakes up and he looks startled. “What? No!” He takes another step back.

I look at him and shrug. “Seemed to be the only logical explanation.” He looks at me and furrows his eyebrows.

“When did this start?” I ask.

“Christmastime.” Simon shrugs, and I put my hands on my hips, asking him nonverbally to elaborate.

He sighs and runs his hand through his curls. “So, uh, d'you remember the day you came over? The night before that I stayed over and we sorta had a… thing.”

My mind goes back to those dreaded few days. “And thats why you wanted to stay at the house of Pitch.” I connect, with Simon nodding.

The door opens and Simon eases tenfold.

“Hey, love.” Baz says, kissing Simon in that same spot on his neck. (I never kisses Simon anywhere but his lips. Should I have kissed him anywhere else?)

“You’re not even gay, Simon.” I say, and Simon flinches again.

Baz glares at me. “Bisexual.” He says, walking back to their room.

Aleister Crowley.

Chapter IV | Tell Me - A Harry Styles Uni AU

Main Story page is here.

Song for the Playlist - Guys My Age by Hey Violet

Instagrams are here.

Word Count - 4500…ish

“What part of ‘I have nothing to say to you’, do you not understand?” She asked as she stopped abruptly and turned back around to face him.

“No, see I get it, Eden,” he took a step onto the stairs to become taller than her again. “But you’ve got to let me explain to you-…”

“You made it perfectly clear how you felt. Have a great fucking new year, Harry. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to come back down in half an hour to get my food in peace. Goodnight.”

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Dream trip.

Author Ladyoftheteaandblood

Happy fluff with Alternative fact Tom the actor and OC.

Underground trains were never my thing, I always worry about going the wrong way, or the wrong line. 

And far more scary what if it breaks down, and we all have to walk back down the tunnel​ in the dark to safety. Thus having to avoid the large man eating rats plus the zombies that live down there, that I’ve seen in every horror film.

So it takes a special reason to get me down here, and today I had one. I still however, had to find some way of distract myself from the thoughts of horror in my head and the only way for me to do that was people watch.

There was the family all together out for a day trip to London. The teen looked mighty pissed off that mum and dad had dragged them away from the computer, just to see some dusty relic that didn’t beat internet shenanigans.

The business man with his copy of a serious newspaper, who kept shaking the pages so we all got the fact he was reading it, and as he was reading it, it must mean he was important. 

The middle-aged lady in the corner who was reading something on her phone. I’d say smut by the happy expression and slightly heightened colour of her cheeks, that and the occasional high pitched giggled that escaped her lips.

The young lad who kept looking round at all the girls getting really embarrassed when they smiled  back at him, suddenly finding interest in his smart black shoes.

And the really tall handsome chap, who was reading a book and reminded me of….shit….wow…..Nope it really was Tom Hiddleston!

At which point he looked up, and seeing me opened mouth looking at him smiled that crazily sexy smile and returned his eyes and thoughts to his book.

I just couldn’t stop peeping at him, he was so handsome. I mean we all know he is but in the flesh, fifteen feet away from you, that bastard glows.

He unfortunately looked up at me again as I looked at him, so rather than look silly I signed in a language only known to a few -me-

 “Are you going to the tennis?” This involved me miming a game of tennis. What was I saying about not looking silly?

He grinned at me, eyes now sparkling and nodded his head, pointed back at me then repeated my tennis mime. 

I nodded with a huge grin because I’d wanted to go to Wimbledon for many years and this was the day, it was the reason I’d braved the bowels of the earth to do so.

Tom then mouthed “Center court?” I mimed back, by first rubbing my fingers on one hand together, next showing two fingers and then holding my hand up. “Cost to high” Which of course he didn’t have a clue what I was trying to say, so over he came.

Fuck he’s tall and in the confined space of a tube train, ridiculously so.

“Hi, didn’t get the last bit, care to try again” 

“Ha, um, well the cost of Center court is too high, so I’m watching one of the lesser mortals play on court two, it will still have all the feeling, excitement and atmosphere”

“Been before?” He asked.

 Being as I hadn’t  really expect the conversation to carry on after that first sentence, and was frankly amazed I got out the answer to that, I was now panicking.

“Not really, first time, always wanted to, decided this year I had too” wow almost real sentences.

“Why this year?” he asked as he looked at me intently. If that guy ever decided to go into interrogation he’d only have to do this look and you’d spill all.

I’d actually hoped that no one would ask why I’d come and now they had, and it was sexy mother fucker here, I could feel myself welling up inside and he could see it on my face, oh shit lady you are such an embarrassment.

“You ok?” He asked with what sounded like genuine concern.

Deep breath and say it, or look bloody stupid.

“I watched Wimbledon every year with my cat and dad and last month he died and I just felt I should actually go, to remember him”

“Oh I am so sorry I wish I hadn’t asked, shit you must miss him terribly?” His eyes looked as sad as I felt. He was so lovely as he gave me a Hiddle’s hug, while the guy who had been looking at his shoes kindly took a picture of us.

“Yes I miss him every day, it would have been weird to watch it on the telly without him, he use to chance the balls round  the screen” Tom face looked down at me somewhat confused

“Your dad chased the balls on the telly?”

“No my cat! but he got run down by a car last month, and dad has found a new lady friend, so I decided to come here to honor Frodo’s memory”

Toms face was now a picture, he was caught between trying to look concerned for the mad cat lady, and not laughing out loud.

“Well in honor of dear departed Frodo, could I ask you to give up your seats in court two and come join me in center court. But whatever you do, please, for the sake of not ending up as the front page story in the Sun, don’t chase the balls round the court in his memory. Although it would be funny.”

“Wow! Really, you’ve got no one better to go with than me?” his turn to look embarrassed

“I seem to be at a temporary loss for female company, maybe I’m not cool enough to be seen with at the moment”

“No not cool, just totally hot!” Bugger said that out loud.

“Thank you, now will you, with memories of your much loved pussy, join me”

“Love too” This day just got to the stuff dreams are made of.

I realized at this point we’d been snapped a lot since Tom had come over to talk to me, good job I’d worn my best summer outfit with the spanks under I thought, proving yet again how weird the brain is at times like this.

Tom was as per advertised, a proper gentleman. He made sure I was by his side all the rest of the tube journey, and back out to the sunshine. He didn’t even laugh when I told him of my underground fears, well not so I could see.

We took a taxi from Wimbledon park underground to the courts themselves, Tom chatting all the way, telling me who was playing and what he expected the score to be.

On arrival, we got the royal treatment by busy men and women in smart uniforms. Cameras clicked, journalist asked dumb questions, and girls gave the occasional involuntary squeak when they saw Tom. Tom took this all in his stride, even if he did have a slightly more strained look on his handsome face. I walked a bit behind and as I guessed no one even considered I might be with him. 

We got lead into a lounge decked out beautifully in pink, there was food put out the tables, including strawberries and cream, which took all my willpower not to barge passed everyone in the room and claim the table as mine, like Gollum over his precious ring. Tom seeing me drool over the fruit, got me a large bowl of the sweet ruby heaven, which I may, or may not have eaten a little too quickly. Drinks also flowed freely but I noticed Tom went for water as did I. 

Tom didn’t leave my side again explaining he’d wanted to avoid me being journalist fodder for page three gossip. My mind just kept screaming ‘Well this is gonna be headline news in the office on Monday.’

He introduced me to others including Benedict and his wife, who I had a really great girly chat with,  while the boys talked about other stuff. She was hilarious with tip bits of gossip she had on stars and celebs that I will never tell!

Time for the tennis and into the posh seat where, to use a phrase from a certain trash novel, ‘My inner goddess was doing cartwheels’ Me in the posh seats! This of course this did mean that the paps had full view of me sitting beside the A Lister actor and happily snapped away all game. Seems it would now be more than office news after all.

We didn’t help this because at a particular thrilling match point, I grabbed hold of Tom’s arm and he grabbed me back as we held our breaths. Yelling together when our man made his opponent skid across the court and he still miss the ball. I might just point out here that Tom is very vocal at these things, which lead my mind to think about other occasions he might be as vocal. Back to the game girl, back to the game!

The game ended with our man winning and the crowd went wild, so did Tom who gave me a huge hug and sort of jumped up and down as he did so.

I thought that would be it but he insisted I did the whole after games drink. He then like some gallant knight of old, got me all the way back to where he found me, chatting nonstop about the game all the way.

He kindly, I think for the sake of appearance, took my number but didn’t give me his.

Finally, he left me at my station to go home with a hug and a kiss on my hand. He actually thanked me for a lovely day!

I went home feeling like the cat who had got the cream, he was the nicest guy, a true gentleman and I’d been on an adventure with him.

All this was written in my diary with pictures and write ups from the gossip rags of “Tom Hiddleston with mystery female at Wimbledon”

Pictures of me grabbing Toms arm, plus pictures of us jumping up and down in a hug when our man won, had been all over the net. It kept the gossip rags and click bate sites happy for a week, till Tom was seen hugging an A list female star at an awards ceremony, and I quickly was forgotten.

The office was not as fun as I expected, some people were lovely, genuinely pleased Id had my magic moment. Many others being really nasty about

 ‘why the hell would he pick you?’. I didn’t care, he did, we had fun, a day never to forget. 


Two Saturdays later I was laughing at a video of kittens on Tumblr when my phone went.

Text unknown caller, strange

“My two imaginary gold fish, Ant and Dec drowned today and they loved Shakespeare. To honor them I have got two tickets to ‘Twelfth night’ fancy coming with me? Tom X.

(picture not mine I just played)

@anovidelonghi @anovinebo @angryschnauzer @ancientfinnishgoddess @aggro-femme @abfoster1s @aliceada @archy3001 @antyc67 @booksandcatslover @bluegrasscontessa @damageditem @dorito82 @heathermc13 @izhunny @echantedbytwh @eve1978 @feelmyroarrrr @frenchblondgirl @larouau12 @lostinspace33 @lolawashere @maevecurrywrites @marveloznerd @mrshiddelston @october-green @ourladybinxthings @oeffsee @peskipixi @prplprincez @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks @the-haven-of-fiction @the-lady-mischief @tomforachange @tomhiddleston-kikibfairy @tinaferraldo @tomkurbikston @servent-alearika @sf0206 @siyoteodiara@nuggsmum @neither-blue-nor-green @lordjohnandtom @kellarter

@omninocte

pictures not mine I just played

such great heights — part three

“Oh.” Harry pressed his lips together. “Was just thinking that maybe we should have a party.”

Kimber raised a brow. “A party?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “Like, a proper celebration for you moving in and all.”

read on 1dff when it returns // read on tumblr below // story page

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