CWs: Drugs (smoking weed), High sex , outdoor sex, dry humping, desperate sorta sex, clitoral stimulation
Summary: Lazy Summer night with your best friend spent smoking 🌿 on top of his ford mondeo, leading to acting on those desperate sexual inhibitions, even if that means fucking on the car roof in the middle of assfuck nowhere
Wordcount: 1.8k
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You were in the middle of nowhere, some random turn in point just off of the country roads nobody ventured over at this time of night. You looked up to the sky from atop the rover roof your back lay flat against, observing the stars which shone brightly in the cloudless, inky sky - reflected in Harry's eyes as he took a drag of the blunt the two of you had been sharing in the moonlight.
"Harry?" It felt as though you weren't even saying his name as your hand tugged at the hem of his shirt. The paper passed from his hand to yours before you brought it back up to your lips, breathing in and taking it back before letting a cloud pass, shading the clear night sky only momentarily before the stars reappeared once more. "Maybe we should get back into the car."
"Why?" Harry asked lazily, his hand brushed yours away from his shirt, instead slotting his fingers between yours whilst his thumb brushed over the back of your hand.
"I was thinking," You started. "You know how we get sunburn? What if we can get moonburn."
Harry didn't reply for a moment.
"That is a great fuckin' point."
He took the blunt back, slowly taking his drag and puffing it back before rolling over- causing you to let out a huff from the pressure as his body landed on top of yours, his chest flush with yours.
"The fuck are you doing, I can feel the car wobbling Harry- you better not tip this thing over-"
"I'm tryna protect you," He groaned from above you. "From the moonburn- I'm covering you, see, so you don't get burned."
"Wow, cheers," You laughed slowly at his gesture even if it did crush you lungs. Luckily, Harry was courteous enough to roll back over and let you sit up and lean back onto your arm, inhaling the sweet night air - free from pollution of other people. Pulling the paper from your lips you held it out to Harry, looking back and catching a glimpse into those pleasant blue eyes as you asked "You wanna hit?"
Harry shook his head, though there was a playful grin on his lips as he did. "I want you to give it to me yourself."
Your lips curled into a grin as you knew exactly what he meant. You shuffled over the cold metal roof to get closer to him. Harry uncrossed his legs, giving you his lap to crawl onto, straddling his hips as you placed one hand on his shoulder for stability, the other holding the blunt between your lips as you inhaled the smoke before cupping Harry's jaw in your hand. Your fingers curved over his cheek, finding the hollows where his gums dipped and pressing down lightly to indicate for him to open his mouth. Harry's lips parted as your fingers dragged his jaw down, nails digging into his lower jaw to keep his mouth open as you leaned forwards, almost pressing your lips to his as you blew the smoke into his mouth, passing the second hand weed into his system as he took it all back, his eyes closing instinctively with yours as he took in your sweet scent, intoxicated with that and the smoke that clouded his mind.
His lips closed around your before you could pull back, the soft flesh caressing your own and finding a lazy pace to work at, the almost sweet aftertaste of weed lingering across one another's lips which moved wetly together. Harry's hand came to the side of your face, cupping your cheek and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear whilst you could feel his eyelashes softly brushing against your cheek.
Harry's teeth came down on your lip, the soft pressure enough to make you open your mouth, Harry's tongue exploiting the movement as he made the kiss even sloppier, the taste of weed evident on his tongue and making you chase him once he pulled back slightly, your eyes opening to see a smirk across his lips.
His hand trailed up your thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake as the cold night air lingered after his touch, his fingers toying with the buttons before slipping the denim down, exposing your legs and lower half, now only covered by thin panties.
A laboured breath fell from your lips as Harry's index and middle fingers curled around the waistband of the panties, yourself shuffling to help him pull the material down before you felt his cold fingertips press delicately against your clit.
The gentle shock of the action was pleasant, and made you elicit a breathy moan, your hips bucking momentarily as all your nerves were ignited simultaneously. His finger slowly circled the spot, making your legs weak, and you bit down onto your lip with a heavy breath, not wanting to break the quiet ambience of the country night.
"You can be as loud as you want, baby," Harry's voice was delicate and coaxing almost, and you let go of you lip between your teeth, the next groan coming unfiltered as Harry was less soft- increasing the pressure and making your head spin almost.
You began subconsciously rocking your hips against Harry's touch, and as soon as you realised you had been doing it, Harry's fingers pulled away. Turning around disappointedly to see why Harry had stopped, you heard the clinking of metal as Harry tugged his buckle, sliding his belt off and undoing his zipper.
It was dark, but you could still make out Harry's cock in the darkness- how it looked so tempting as the boxers came down- his length bobbing back up and hitting his stomach, the influence of the weed clearly getting him even more horny. And you couldn't say that the weed didn't have a similar influence on you, as you felt your core heating up- almost aching from how you felt upon seeing Harry's length, just needing him to thrust on in and fuck you already.
You pushed Harry down by the chest so that his back was flat against the car roof, and he let out a huff upon the impact, wiggling uncomfortably at the coolness of the metal against his skin. He didn't move though, as you placed either hand to his chest, crawling over his legs and finding a comfortable position whereby you could feel his cock beneath you, flush against your core and head nudging your clit. A groan fell from your lips and you couldn't help but indulge in the feeling of his cock, simply grinding down onto his length and letting the friction between his cock and your clit provide you pleasure- almost desperately grinding against his cock, releasing all your inhibitions with the freedom provided by the blunt and adrenaline of doing it on top of your car on an open road.
His length caught against your opening and the tip sunk between your soaked folds so deliciously you wouldn't help but sink yourself down onto his cock, arching your back as you lowered yourself until he was fully inside of you, bottomed out so that your skin was flush with his own burning hot skin.
Harry pulled his hand up to your face, stroking your cheek as you felt the blunt scratching your skin, the paper held between his fingers as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind you ear, his thumb finding your lips and slipping between to rest upon your tongue, letting you suck his digit before leaning off it with a pop and allowing Harry to delicately place the joint between your lips and take a drag, slotting the paper back between Harry's fingers and blowing the smoke back out before letting out a giggle and leaning back down to reattach your lips with Harry's and share a passionate, sloppy kiss.
Only was the kissing interrupted when Harry moaned heavily into the kiss upon feeling your hips begin grinding back and forth, his cock tracing your insides and moving minimally and yet providing so much pleasure you couldn't help but chase it, putting pressure onto your knees and using them to raise your body from his cock and start riding him.
Your bounces were wanton and ravenous, each one emitting a low sort of squelch; the combination of your slick against Harry's cock making near-pornographic sounds. And Harry's groans were a symphony, the way they were so husky and only turned you on further, a certain horny beauty within the load moans that fell desperately from your lips with each thrust, so sexily sinful against the otherwise silent wilderness around you.
Harry's brain felt as though it were heading dangerously into overdrive, the way it was so clouded was almost worrying- all the stimulation of your velvet walls pressing tight around his cock had his whole body sweltering, the cold metal against his back the only vice that kept him somewhat cool. And the sight of your tits, jiggling in high circles with each eager thrust of his cock into your pussy, had him bucking his hips and trying to hit your g-spot just to see you moan and see those tits shake with each thrust- your nipples hardened against the cold nights air and drawing him to place a heavy hand against one- his fingers kneading and caressing your doughy skin whilst his thumb sensually pressed and flicked your nipple.
You knew he was getting close; his hips bucking almost uncontrollable with each of your bounces, kissing your cervix with each thrust and making your legs shake, the feeling of his hand reaching across your leg to grip your thigh- his nails sinking into your peachy flesh and leaving little crescent nail-marks clouding your mind and pushing you closer and closer to your climax.
"H-Harry," You groaned.
"Oh I'm so close baby, don't you worry-" He cut you off with an animalistic groan, both his hands attaching at your hips and controlling you- using you at his own pace as your legs were so close to giving out, thrusting you up and down on his cock as though you were a cocksleeve for his pleasure only.
"Fuck, HaArry..." The crack within your voice was so raw and broken, Harry was pushed just over the edge as you were- the feeling of his cock painting white stripes within your uterus as you climaxed yourself, sending stars within your eyes and euphoria coursing through your body, making your head spin and thighs clench and shake.
You couldn't even support your body weight, your arms giving out and causing your body to collapse atop Harry's- your sweaty body meeting his own which was covered in a thin sheen, the combination of the weed heating his body, cold night air, and hot and passionate sex causing the two of you to feel hot-and-cold everywhere, and yet still have it in yourselves to cuddle naked on the roof of the car, giggling under the influence of the weed and savouring this time together that you still had whilst you were young.
🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿
Guys icl idk whether i vaped or hit weed at a party i went to and it's bugging me out fr because that was the first time id ever had anything nicotine related and i j feel guilt negl 😭😖 not really sure where im going with that but thought it linked to the chapter, n no better way to kill a smut-induced ladyboner than with a boring personal anecdote 🫶🥰😘
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DOING THE PRANK WHERE U PRETEND TO GET SOMETHING FROM THE BACK OF THE CAR BUT INTENTIONALLY SMACK YOUR S/O WITH HARRY PLEASE!!!!! would love if u included the comments at the end
cut it out, harry lewis.
summary: harry's been a bit sick of you hopping on tiktok trends, but this one leaves him a little more than baffled.
warnings: none
notes: this trend had me giggling so bad omg 😭😭😭 guys it's been ages (like a month but still) since i last wrote something writer's block was KILLING ME 😀 feel free to send in some prompts or reqs <3
harry had told you to get ready in the next half an hour, that you'd be going on a little date in central london. well, he didn't tell you, rather he sprung the idea up on you after you complained about being bored for the last two days.
it took a lot more than he thought it would've to convince you to leave the house, with harry going as far as telling you that he'd drive. that's how you knew he was being serious.
so as he was getting ready after you, you scrolled through the obsession of your life that was tiktok, laughing every so often and sending some to your friends who had yet to respond to the others that you sent.
stopping on one video that you couldn't stop giggling at, a thought formed in your mind. the tiktok was of a girl who wouldn't stop "accidentally" hotting her boyfriend whilst trying to get things out of the backseat of the car.
it had been ages since you last pulled a joke on harry, yet only the other day he pulled one on you with the help of the boys.
"are you ready yet or are you still laughing at your phone?" harry came back into the bedroom, pulling his navy blue nike hoodie over his shirt.
"i am ready, in fact," you got up, tiptoeing to gently grab a hold of his face, pressing your lips to his. "and the things on my phone will always be funnier than you."
"good joke," he smiled a false smile at you, squeezing your waist before grabbing the keys off of the dresser.
"i still can't believe you're driving. wait, pose with the keys, let me get a photo for your mum."
"don't get too used to this..."
harry walked out before you to put his shoes on, but seeing as you already had yours on, you asked him to unlock the car for you. to him, it seemed you were just eager to leave but really, you had to make sure that there were items in the backseat.
placing one of your tote bags in there, you evenly spread out one of the jellycats that you left in your car and another bag full of spare things. putting the camera at an angle that was able to capture both you and harry, you smiled giddily. soon enough, harry joined you in the driver's side, about to start the car.
"wait!" you called out. "i think i forgot something in the back."
"can't you get it whilst i drive? it's not me you forgot, right?"
"ha ha ha," you rolled your eyes. "no, i might rip it apart by accident."
harry shook his head, nonetheless not starting the car before he looked dead into your camera. he did wonder why you were recording, yet he never actually brought it up.
messing about in the back, deciding which item to use first, you decided on the jellycat.
it was an octopus, one that faith had got you from a trip in florida that she and ethan went to.
"here she is!" you smiled, pulling the jellycat back and purposely hitting it into harry. you did it gently, but not too gentle to the point where he didn't get irritated.
jumping as it made contact with his arm, harry frowned. "ow?" he said, looking at you, but you were too busy dusting off the jellycat.
"hm, actually no." you turned back around to put the stuffed animal back, this time reaching for the tote bag.
luckily, it didn't have anything too sharp in it, so you wouldn't actually hurt harry.
again, you pulled it back with enough force this time slightly jolt harry out of his relaxed position. "are you alright?" he asked, blinking at you.
"huh? what d'you mean?"
"you've just... full on wacked that into me?" he said, more so asked, in shock.
"did i?
"yes?!" you could've sworn you saw his eye twitch, having to restrain your laugh.
"oh," was all you mustered out, looking into the bag as if you actually needed something from it.
harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he waited for you to finish. "can we go now?"
"un, not yet actually," and you turned again to the backseat, this time grabbing the last bag.
pulling it back again, it hit harry in his arm, but this time he grabbed the bag from you, tossing it back in the backseat.
"harry! i needed that," you gasped, again to hide your laugh.
"no you didn't, y/n, unless you were using it to target me again" he mimicked your whiny voice.
you didn't know what had you more speechless, the mimicking or his reaction to your silly little prank.
"i wasn't targeting you..."
harry turned to you, giving you the most dead straight look ever. "cut it out, you hit me in the arm three times."
"maybe you were just too close to me."
"i— what?!"
you both stared at each other; harry with a look of shock and slight irritation and you with a serious look that you couldn't quite hold, bursting out in laughter soon after.
"oh my god!" you managed to say in between laughs. "you should see your face!"
"right, let it out. it's not that funny," harry shook his head at your state.
you leaned forward to grab your phone from where you left it, rewinding the last part where harry three the bag in the back. "oh, this is gold."
"you're a right wind up, you know that?" harry said, refusing to give you the satisfaction of know your trick worked on him.
"oh, i know," you smiled at him. "but you live me regardless."
"unfortunately."
"hey," you pushed a hand in his face, instantly groaning when you felt his tongue poke the same hand. "god, just drive."
hiii i know you havent posted in a while but if you are still taking requests would you do blurb or smau of harry and reader buying a new house maybe in guernsey or london and its just cute domestic vibes ? love your work :)
ahhh love this idea!!! i'm still taking requests just been a bit slow getting round to them all because i'm back at uni and have a load of work i need to do :( but hope you enjoy this little blurb!!! xx
home | harry lewis
summary: y/n and harry move in to their forever home
word count: 1.8k
warnings: mostly just a cutesy/fluff blurb but references to sex at the end
The day had finally come for Y/N and Harry. The day they were about to move into their new house. Sure, they had shared a quaint but homely London flat for the past five years, but now they were onto bigger things. Their first proper forever home.
To say Harry was bricking it was an understatement. Of course, the pair had done their fair share of moving around, life tucked away in cardboard boxes, but this was the real deal—probably the last time they’d ever have to do this, and God, there was so much to do, and Harry felt completely hopeless. He’d spent the last half an hour trying to get the garage door to open, slapping the remote aimlessly with his hand to try and get it to work, and pulling his hair in defeat when it didn’t. It turns out he had been using the wrong remote the whole time, and instead of opening the garage door, he had been toying about with your house's light system, the lights inside the house flickering on and off as he sighed in frustration outside unknowingly. He was stressed, and Y/N was inside, thinking they had faulty electrics.. It was a great start.
Another five minutes passed, and Harry had given up, deciding his car looked much better parked on the driveway anyway, and took it upon himself to unload some more boxes from the boot of his car. He walked up to the house, rummaging in his pockets for the house keys, cursing under his breath when he saw sight of that stupid remote that had caused him torture for the last few minutes—he'd have chucked it in the bin at this rate, but knew Y/N would give him a telling-off for being so silly. Shoving the key in the door, he opened the blue door that had drawn the pair in the first time they came to view the house—his favourite colour being blue and Y/N loving the pop of colour it gave—a warm welcome to future guests that the two would definitely have. He placed the two boxes he had managed to carry from the car and kicked off his Air Forces, abiding by Y/N’s ‘No Shoes’ rule that she had gone on and on about, not wanting to dirty the brand new floors.
He could hear the faint sound of some pop song he didn’t know the name of as he made his way down the hallway, a fresh smell of paint wafting into his nose. He leaned on the doorframe, not before tapping his finger to check if the paint had dried and luckily it had as he couldn’t think of anything worse than getting paint all over his new hoodie. He could see the woman he loved trailing around the kitchen, cupboards open, and boxes all over the marble kitchen counter. She had a determined look on her face as she placed different glassware and plates into cupboards—shiny new ones but also some that Harry had recognised from their old flat. She couldn’t see him as he watched her intently, struggling to lift a heavy box that was filled to the brim with more kitchenware. He knew he’d ought to help her because she was struggling, but the sight was something to enjoy, and a smug look was present on his face as he watched his love scuffle around the kitchen in her pink crocs and his old jumper that was a few sizes too big for her.
‘’You need a hand, lovely?’’ he teased as she whipped her head around at the sound of his voice, plates nearly falling out of her hands.
‘’Fucking hell, Harry’’ She gasped, steadying the plates in her hands, leaving them down on the counter as she looked properly at him. He had a cheeky grin on his face that made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. ‘’Don’t sneak up on me like that.’’
‘’I would have warned you, but I can’t bloody hear myself think over this shite music.’’ he laughed as he made his way over to the counter and pressed the volume down on the speaker that was bellowing endless pop tunes.
‘’Don’t hate on Sabrina Carpenter; she’s an icon.’’
‘’I haven’t a clue who that is.’’ Harry narrowed his eyes at her as she made her way towards him, wrapping her hands around his waist.
Looking up at him, Y/N laughed, ‘’Course you don’t, you old man.’’ With a kiss to his lips, she smiled, and she took her arms from his waist, wanting to get a better look at him. ‘’How was your day?’’
‘’Was alright.’’ Harry sighed, ‘’Saw the lads for a bit and picked up the last of the boxes from storage, but that’s all. How was yours?’’
‘’OK. Better now you’re home.’’ she smiled.
The word home almost made Harry’s heart explode out of his chest. It just sounded so good and so right. This place was home, especially with the two here together.
‘’Think there’s a problem with the electrics though; the lights kept flickering earlier. I hope this place isn’t haunted - they never advertised that.’’ She laughed.
''Oh, for fuck sakes.’’ Harry cursed, pulling her hand so that her body was nearer to him and away from the counter. ‘’Well, at least I’m here now to protect you from anything scary.’’
Y/N snorted, ‘’Some job you’d do at protecting me—you're scared of everything, silly.’’
''Oh, shut up and gimme me a kiss.’’ he said before separating the space between them once again.
✩ ✩ ✩
A couple of hours had passed, and Y/N and Harry had managed to unpack all the boxes from the kitchen, living room, and bedroom, leaving all the others piled up in a spare room, ready for them to tackle the following day. To say they were exhausted would have been an understatement.
‘’I’m here all day tomorrow.’’ Harry hummed, ‘’What’s the unpacking plan?’’
‘’Hmm, I’m thinking we start with the spare rooms.’’ Y/N yawned, her body relaxing into Harry’s body as the pair lay on the sofa, his hands delicately playing with her hair. ‘’Then maybe we could do your filming room; you’ll need that soon enough, won’t you?’’
‘’What about your office?’’ Harry asked, knowing Y/N loved her little office she had in their old flat. The two loved one another’s company, don’t get them wrong, but sometimes it was nice that they had their own separate little rooms where they could get on with whatever they needed to that day with no distractions—Harry mostly shouting at his computer filming a More Sidemen video and Y/N working on her fashion blog, headphones on so she didn’t hear her lover screaming every ten minutes.
‘’That can wait. You need your room done more than me; you have all that filming to do.’’ She poked at his side.
‘’You’re an angel, d’you know that, ’’ Harry smiled. ‘’We’ll try to do both.’’
Y/N hummed into him, knowing that they probably would only end up doing one room before Harry ended up getting distracted while he unpacked, finding some random useless item he had kept from 2014. ‘’We’ll try.’’
‘’You feeling tired?’’ Harry asked as he kept playing with her hair. She always got tired whenever he did it, usually lulling to sleep half the time, but Harry didn’t mind; he enjoyed watching her pretty eyes flutter to sleep, knowing she felt safe in his embrace.
‘’Not really.’’ She lied. ‘’Why, what are you thinking?’’
Pulling his hand from her head, she looked up at him dreamily, and it was like she could see the thoughts spinning around his head as he watched her intently.
‘’Just thinking we haven’t christened the house yet is all.’’ He smiled, a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth.
‘’Christened the house?’’ Y/N laughed, moving to prop herself up to get a better look at her smirking boyfriend.
‘’Yeah, you know, like they do in the movies.’’
‘’What sort of movies have you been watching?’’ Y/N snorted.
''Oh, shut up, don’t you start,’’ Harry tutted playfully, ‘’Y’know what I mean.’’
‘’Go on then; tell me more.’’ Y/N teased.
Harry laughed. So she wanted to indulge him. Thought she was tired? Bullshit.
‘’Just feel like we’ve got a lot of rooms to christen, big house and all,’’ He pressed a kiss on her cheek. ‘’I’m thinking we start upstairs and work our way around the house.’’
‘’All in one night? You’ll be knackered.’’ She teased again.
‘’We’ve got forever, lovely, not just the night,’’ Harry smiled. ''Plus, I think you’ll be the knackered one once I’ve had my way with you.’’ Pressing another kiss on her other cheek.
‘’Is that so?’’ Y/N’s voice spoke. Yeah, she wasn’t tired anymore at all.
‘’Yes, doll,’’ Harry grinned, ‘’Don’t pretend you don’t know it.’’
‘’Hmm,’’ she sighed before getting up from the sofa, untangling herself from his grasp and the mounds of blankets that surrounded them. ‘’Race you upstairs then.’’ She said this before legging it out the living room door. She could hear Harry groan from the sofa as she waited momentarily outside the doorway, not wanting to run too far ahead of him.
He doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast in his life, chucking the blankets and his phone to the side as he raced out the door to see her not that far ahead of him, nearing the staircase.
‘’Thought you were faster than that, lovely.’’ He laughed as he chased after her, hands flying out in front of him to try and take hold of her hand but failing as she was always just a few inches ahead of him.
‘’Come on, slow coach.’’ She echoed from the top of the stairs, and he could see that his hoodie that she’d been wearing for the past few hours had been discarded over the bannister. What a menace, he thought.
With her just out of sight, he took heavy steps up the stairs before pausing at the top, letting out a sigh of happiness. His favourite girl in the world, running around their house as she shouted for him from their bedroom—he could so get used to this, he knew that for sure.
Their home together, forever.
✩ ✩ ✩
a/n: hope you enjoyed this little blurb!!! i'll try and get back to doing my requests and series updates more frequently - just need to find the time x
a/n: part two!!!! thank u for all the love on part one hope you all enjoy this next part!!!! <333
warnings: angst, references to sex, alcohol
requests: open for social media au's
rest of my work : masterlist
✩ ✩ ✩
It’s for the best.
And maybe it was, as Y/N stepped out into the cool evening air, her heart feeling heavy from the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled longing. She couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered in her chest—a stark contrast to the usual warmth of Harry’s apartment that she was leaving behind. It now felt cold, just like the look he gave her as he spoke the words she’d wished he never said—it’s for the best.
With every step away from Harry’s building, Y/N felt like she was taking a step further away from something that she couldn’t quite grasp. The connection never fully materialised. And maybe he was right; maybe it was for the best, but that didn’t make her feel any less stupid. The moments of intimacy they shared now felt like distant memories, replaced by the echoes of their silent exchange. They reverberated in her mind, the thoughts of what could have been and what should have been. She felt silly that she had ever mentioned anything. If she had kept quiet and not let her thoughts lead her astray, she’d still be tangled up in his bed, whispering sweet nothings, and her heart would not hurt as much as it did right now.
She knew she’d made a mistake. She knew it three months ago when he was asleep in her room, the sound of his hushed snoring keeping her awake as she looked down at him with his arms wrapped around her. If it had been anyone else keeping her up with their laboured breathing, she’d have told them to be quiet, but it was him, and the sound lulled her to sleep every night. It was something she’d grown used to, something she liked hearing, knowing he was only inches away from her and holding onto her like he never wanted to leave. She felt wanted, and she loved it. She loved it, and she knew it was wrong to love it, and now the thought of never hearing it again, well, it felt like a stab in the heart.
Lost in her thoughts, she found herself wandering aimlessly through the dark streets, the tears on her cheeks glistening in the glow of the streetlights. If anyone had walked past and taken a look at the girl, they would have thought she was crazy. A blubbering mess. And she felt like one too, as she quickened her pace in hopes of rushing home. She needed a release—a cathartic release from the ache in her heart—to go home and scream into her pillow. She wanted to forget everything that had been said in the last hour. To go back to before, when it was casual and she was happy. But she couldn’t because there was no casualty before, and maybe she was never really happy.
/
Five days had passed since Y/N had left Harry’s flat, and she had spent those five days in the isolation of her own home, not wanting to leave her, ignoring all the texts she got from the girls. She’d even called in sick to work and Cal and Chip knew something was up, she’d never miss a Fellas shoot. Maybe to some, it might have been a bit of a dramatic reaction, but in truth, Y/N felt like her heart had just been ripped out, chewed up, and spat out. She was allowed to be as dramatic as possible.
It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much, either. After all, it wasn’t a real relationship; they weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend; there was no label. It was just a fleeting connection built on half-truths and borrowed moments of intimacy. But Y/N was ensnared; in the tangled web of emotions they’d spun around each other, she felt her heart tethered to Harry’s in ways she couldn’t explain. If only Harry had felt the same.
The girls had had enough. They were worried about Y/N as she kept herself cooped away in the quiet solitude of her bedroom. They knew she was staring blankly at the screen of her phone, watching all their texts pop up, and more than likely reading through the remnants of her text conversations with Harry. They needed to intervene.
Y/N’s friends, Sabina, Fatih, and Laura, knew all too well the pain she was going through. They saw it first hand over the past few months. While they loved Harry to bits—him being a friend of their boyfriends and a friend to them too—they also loved Y/N, and after seeing her wrapped up in this messy debacle, they knew that she was hurting. With bags full of cheap wine, picky bits of food, and their hearts full of determination, they arrived at Y/N’s doorstep one sunny afternoon. They hadn’t bothered texting her before to let her know they were coming, knowing she’d probably make some silly excuse and manage to worm her way out of their plan.
"Alright, ladies," Sabina declared, setting down her bag of groceries. "Operation Cheer Y/N Up is in full swing."
With a chorus of nods, they exchanged smiles before knocking on the door.
Y/N answered, her eyes weary, but a glimmer of surprise danced across her face at the sight of her friends assembled on her doorstep. God, she was in for a long night.
"Babe!’’ Faith said, offering her a warm hug. "We come bearing gifts."
Y/N's lips curled into a faint smile as she ushered the girls inside. They made their way to the living room, where blankets were strewn across the couch from where Y/N had set up camp the past few days, indulging in terrible rom-coms.
They wasted no time in bustling into the kitchen, grabbing four wine glasses and a few plates from her cupboards. Popping open the cheap rose and setting up the snacks, Y/N felt a semblance of normalcy returning. It was nice to see the girls, a reminder that she wasn’t completely alone in this. She had dreaded the thought that she’d have to completely avoid everyone and that they’d all take Harry’s side, but she knew that would have been ridiculous. They were her friends too, and in reality, there were no sides to be taken; it was just between her and him. The group had warned them it was bound to end badly.
‘’How are you coping?’’ Laura asked, balancing her glass of pink fizz on her leg as she sat cross-legged opposite Y/N.
Y/N let out a sigh. ‘’Truthfully, a lot worse than I thought I’d be. I mean, I know it was nothing serious but-’’
‘’Shut-up.’’ Faith swatted the girl next to her. ‘’It was serious. It’s been what? Six months? That’s basically a relationship.’’
‘’I agree. I moved in with Chip at the four-month mark. Half a year and I’d be thinking I’m getting married and having kids with the boy!’’ Sabina laughed.
‘’No, I know, but we never started off dating. It was casual from the get-go, and I foolishly caught feelings. I can’t blame him for not feeling the same.’’ Y/N sighed, resting her head on her hand in defeat.
‘’Y/N, there’s nothing silly about catching feelings. You spent half a year with him. It was bound to happen.’’ Laura spoke.
‘’Literally! There’s no way he could've thought the way he was around you was casual.’’
‘’What do you mean?’’ Y/N said with furrowed brows. She’d hoped there were another two bottles of wine in their bags because she felt like she needed them.
‘’Babe, he was all over you any chance he got. Always talking about you. Ethan told me he was like a broken record on Sidemen shoots, always mentioning you. There’s no way it was casual for him.’’ Faith reassured.
''Well, he pretty much kicked me out; he didn’t even want to have a conversation about it.’’ Y/N spoke, feeling the tears itching at her eyes, but she held them together, not wanting to break down in front of the girls, even if they were her best friends. ‘’Said it was for the best.’’
‘’I can’t believe that!’’
‘’Doesn’t even sound like Harry. I bet he just said it in the heat of the moment but probably regrets it.’’
‘’Have you heard from him since?’’
‘’No, nothing.’’ Y/N paused. ‘’I’m not surprised though; it seemed like he was over it all anyways.’’
The girls sat in silence for a moment as they watched their friend, shoulders heavy with the weight of sorrow she was feeling, and all enveloped her in a massive hug.
‘’This calls for a night out!’’ Faith beckoned from the hug.
‘’I can’t. I don’t want to bump into him yet.’’ Y/N sighed. She didn’t know how she’d react if she saw him. She’d probably want to run out of the bar and back to the only place she’d found comfort in for the past few days—her bed.
‘’Nope, I’m not hearing it.’’ Sabina laughed. ‘’He doesn’t own the place. So what if we bump into him? We need to cheer you up, and 2 for 1 cocktails sound like a good start to me.’’
''Oh, I don’t know-’’
‘’Right, Friday at 7? Let’s meet at the pub.’’
There was no way the girls were going to let her say no. A pub night it was.
✩ ✩ ✩
Harry felt like shit. Complete and utter shit.
For the past five days, his mind had been a tempest of conflicting emotions and he felt completely weighed down by the burden of guilt. He didn’t even know where it all had gone so wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment but he knew it was all his fault. The image of Y/N’s eyes brimming with tears as she left his bedroom was enough to engulf him in a sea of remorse and he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
Unlike Y/N he hadn’t kept himself hushed away in the four walls of his bedroom. Oh no, that was the last place he wanted to be. He hated being in that room. Every trace of her was still visible and it made him feel sick. The smell of her vanilla perfume still on his pillows, her favourite bra in his chest of drawers and the array of jewellery she had left on his bedside table when she rushed off. She was everywhere and it made him feel like shit.
Instead Harry took every opportunity he could to get out of his flat. Whether it was hours at the gym, drowning his sorrows in the pub or even offering to fill in for Tobi on a Side Plus shoot, he did everything possible to not be home. The boys knew something was up, he’d never offer to do an extra shoot, usually loving his time off. And at the pub too when he returned to his old ways after a few pints and started getting rowdy and mean with them, they knew something was off. They didn’t pry though. They had heard the whispers from their girlfriends that something had gone down between him and Y/N and then knew that more than likely it was his fault.
He’d never felt like this before either. The feeling in his chest was so alien to him. Even when he had broken up with his ex of two years, the pain in his heart was never this bad. And he had no idea why.
He missed her, that's the one thing he did know. He missed her laugh like you’d miss a ray of sunlight on a rainy day. He missed her laughter that danced like a melody through the air. He missed her smile that was so bright it could light up any room. The way she’d sing off key in his shower. Or the way she’d turn up after work with food in hand and a bottle of the red wine he loved. He’d even slept on the side of the bed that she’d preferred, it smelled just like her and he missed it. Course, he missed the sex too but that wasn’t just it, he actually craved her as a person. He could have gone out on a night out and pulled any girl he wanted but the thought made him feel sick. He just missed her so much but he just didn’t know why.
Checking his phone, he saw a text that Chip had sent into the groupchat.
Chip : ‘Anyone wanna go pub on friday? 8pm?’
Anywhere was better than home, Harry knew that. So pub on Friday, it was.
✩ ✩ ✩
Friday had come around way too quickly for Y/N. She felt herself facing a dilemma - she had promised the girls she would join them at the pub, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that coiled like a serpent in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t think of anything worse than necking a few pints and forcing conversation. And she couldn’t budge the idea that Harry might be there, out of her mind. She didn’t know what she’d do if she came face to face with him. She felt sick at the thought.
With a resigned sigh, she dragged herself away from the comfort of her cosy flat and stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection with a mixture of resignation and reluctance. The girls insisted the whole night that a night out at the pub would be just what she needed to lift her spirits, to chase away the shadows that lingered in the corners of her mind. And usually she’d be all for it. She loved a night out as much as the next person but it almost felt too soon. She wasn’t sure if she was ready and deep down she knew he’d be there.
As she brushed her hair and applied a coat of ruby red lipstick, she tried to push the thoughts out of her mind. She had especially caked on the concealer in attempts to hide the dark eye bags that had appeared over the last few days. Her outfit was simple, sporting some black flare jeans and a little baby tee, nothing special but she felt comfortable.
It didn’t take her too long to get to the pub. Just a quick 10 minute walk from her flat and she’d landed outside ‘The Old Queen’s Head’ a local favourite for the group. Sabina and Laura were outside chatting to the security guard and she felt instant relief that she didn’t have to walk in on her own. With a few hugs and kisses on the cheek later, the girls stepped in and went to the bar.
Y/N felt thankful that when she went in all she could see was a few groups of people she didn't recognise and some old men sat at the bar - he wasn’t there. She had never felt such relief. A few 2 for 1 cocktails later and she found herself relaxing. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe the last few days in isolation were a bit extreme. It was good to be back with the girls, chatting about future plans and fond memories. It was nice.
An hour had passed and Y/N felt slightly buzzed but relaxed. That was until she looked across the table and saw the two girls opposite with wide eyes as they looked towards the door.
‘’For fuck sakes, I told Josh to not bring him.’’ Sabina sighed.
‘’Don’t turn around, Y/N.’’ Laura spoke, squeezing Y/N’s hand.
In any other situation that statement would have been vague and Y/N would have had no clue who was behind her but curiosity went a miss, she knew exactly who it was. Of course, he was here. Why wouldn’t he be? He was always at this pub with the group on a Friday - as if this week would have been any different.
She didn’t dare turn around, feeling frozen on the wooden pub stool. She could hear the chorus of ‘hello’s’ from the boys and she felt sick. Giving a quick smile and a mumbled ‘hi’ back to them, she felt like she was about to faint. With a dizzy mind and sweaty palms, she lifted herself up from her seat, muttering that she needed some air and headed outside with her eyes down, avoiding Harry’s piercing eyes that were focused on her.
She’d never felt more thankful for the crisp London chill in the air that hit her as she opened the door to leave the pub. The cold sent shivers down her spine and knocked her back to reality. She knew she probably looked like a fool, immediately fleeing the scene as soon as he arrived but she didn’t care. It felt like the walls of the pub were closing in on her and she needed to escape - she knew the girls would understand.
Propped up against the brick wall, she let out a breath and closed her eyes. Her mind felt like it was moving at a hundred miles per hour, thoughts racing around in her head. How was she supposed to get over this when she could barely be in the same room as him without her heart shattering into millions of pieces.
She felt defeated and she just wanted to go home and cry. In her own little world, she let her thoughts run wild before she heard a raspy cough next to her, interrupting her inner monologue. She opened her eyes to see who it was but in heart she knew it was him before she could even lay her eyes on him.
‘’Are you alright?’’ Harry spoke softly, running his hands through his hair as he propped himself against the wall next to her.
She wanted to scream. They hadn’t seen each other in days, the last memory of him being him kicking her out and the first thing he said was ‘Are you alright?’. It was laughable.
‘’Am I alright?’’ Y/N laughed, ‘’Oh, I’m fantastic.’’
Harry so badly wanted to roll his eyes but stopped himself, not wanting to fuel an argument between them.
‘’I’m sorry.’’ he paused, ‘’I didn’t realise you were going to be here.’’
‘’Me either.’’ She sighed, finding it hard to even look at him, knowing one look into his eyes would send her haywire. ‘’I wouldn’t of come if I’d have known.’’
‘’Y/N, I just want to apologise. I- I shouldn’t have told you to leave that night. I just didn’t know what to say.’’
‘’You don’t need to apologise. I can’t blame you for not feeling the same.
‘’It’s not that I-’’ he stopped himself, ‘’Look, do you think we can talk about this properly? Somewhere more quiet?’’
She looked up at him properly for the first time. He looked worse than she thought would and she’d be lying if it didn’t make her smile. His eyes were darkened with bags, the t-shirt he was wearing looked like it could use an iron and his hair was messy and unkempt.
‘’Is that your attempt to ruse me back to your apartment? I’m not sleeping with you, Harry.’’
‘’For fuck sake, no.’’ God, he wanted to roll his eyes even more now. ‘’I just want to talk, please, Y/N.’’
‘’Fine.’’ she sighed in defeat. ‘’Just to talk.’’
/
The walk back to Harry’s was quiet. The pair walked side by side in a silence that was unsurprisingly uncomfortable and they couldn’t help but try and ignore the awkward tension hanging between them.
The street lights cast long shadows on the pavement as they walked next to each other, the sound of their footsteps and cars passing by being the only thing echoing softly in the air. They both stole glances of one another, Y/N noting the way his jaw was clenched slightly and Harry noticing her shaking hands, a sign of the unease that the pair mirrored from one another.
It felt weird to think that not so long ago the two could barely savour a moment of silence in each other's company, always making each other laugh or telling some bizarre story that the other listened to intently. The silence was deafening and they both felt awful.
The walk to Harry’s was a familiar route for Y/N and her heart ached as she walked past the places they used to love going. They passed the park where they had their first picnic, the bench where they shared their deepest secrets, and the bar that they shared their first kiss in. Each sight stirred emotions Y/N had hoped she’d be able to bury, adding weight to the silence that hung heavily between them as they knowingly passed their favourite spots.
They reached the front door of Harry’s flat and all Y/N could think about was turning around and running as far away as possible. But before she could muster the courage to speak and say ‘this is a bad idea,’Harry broke the silence.
‘’Please just come up for a while,’’ Harry sighed knowing that she was regretting coming here with him, he could see it written all over her face. ‘’Just hear me out.’’
Sighing in vanquish, she watched him unlock the door and followed him up the stairs.
His flat looked the same as it did when she rushed out the door last week only this time she could see it clearly, no tears fogging up her vision. It was messier though, piles of plates and cups filling the sink, a few boxes scattered around and the bin overflowing with rubbish.
She mirrored him as he took a seat on the sofa and she purposely sat as far away from him as possible. She could feel herself on the edge of the sofa and if she had tried to move any further away she more than likely would’ve landed on the floor.
"Y/N, I... I just wanted to say..." he trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper.
She looked up, meeting his gaze, searching for the words he couldn't seem to find.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice thick with emotion.
Y/N felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she nodded, the weight of his second apology of the night lifting a burden she hadn't realised she'd been carrying.
"I’ve told you, you don’t need to feel sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the city outside the window.
‘’No, I do.’’ Harry said, barely meeting her eyes as he played with his hands. ‘’I didn’t mean to tell you to leave, I just didn’t know what to say.’’
‘’And you know what to say now?’’
‘’No- I- ,fuck. It just shocked me, that's all. I’ve never been good with confrontation, even now it makes me feel nervous.’’ he paused, ‘’I never wanted to upset you, I just couldn’t put my feelings into words.’’
‘’Your feelings?’’
‘’Yes. I haven’t been able to sleep since that night. I regret everything I said.’’
‘’But you were right? It is for the best if you don’t feel the same way, Harry.’’ Y/N sighed. ‘’There’s no sugar coating it. You can’t regret what you said if that's how you feel.’’
‘’But it’s not,’’ He wanted nothing more than to reach over and hold her hand, ‘’I can’t sleep because you’re not next to me and it makes me feel strange.’’
‘’You miss the sex? Is that what you’re trying to say?’’ Y/N could barely choke a laugh.
‘’No, obviously not.’’ Y/N narrowed her eyes at his statement. ‘’Not that I don’t miss that- of course I do. I miss that loads-’’
‘’Harry.’’ she cut him off.
‘’Sorry. What I’m trying to say is I miss you. I miss you so much, Y/N. It’s been a week and I can’t think about anything other than you and I don’t know what that means. I’m so confused.’’
Y/N watched him as he blabbered on. If he felt confused then imagine how confused she felt. After a week of thinking he wanted nothing more to do with and now she was hit in the face with his confessions that he missed her. She was baffled.
‘’I’m confused too, Harry. I don't know what you’re trying to say.’’
‘’I’m saying I miss you and the way I’m feeling is something I’ve never felt before. I need you, Y/N.’’ he whispered, barely believing that he was able to get the words out, ‘’I need you so much.’’
Y/N could have died on the spot. Her head was spinning and she knew it was from his confession and not the cheap pornstar martini’s she’d consumed a few hours ago.
‘’I’ve always needed you, Harry.’’ she spoke softly at the boy who was sitting a foot away from her with his head in his hands.
He smiled up at her, removing his hands from his crown.
‘’Will you stay with me tonight?’’ Harry asked gently, ‘’I won’t be able to sleep.’’
‘’OK, I’ll stay.’’
-
a/n: going to do another part because i live for this angsty y/n and harry duo. hope you all enjoyed this & thank u for all the love xxx
summary: in which y/n and harry are in a 'casual' relationship
word count : 2.2k
a/n: this is inspired by the song 'the giver' by sarah kinsley so give it a listen!! hope u enjoy lovelies. super angsty eeeek and i have barely proof read it as i wrote it quite rushed after listening to the song so hope it's ok lol
warnings: angst(no happy ending) , references to sex, alcohol
requests: open <333
rest of my work : masterlist
✩ ✩ ✩
✩ ✩ ✩
In the heart of the bustling city of London, amidst the chatter of late-night pub soirees and neon-lit streets, two individuals found each other in the most unexpected of ways. Y/N and Harry were acquaintances at most, their paths crossing occasionally at a mutual friend’s gathering or crowded house parties. Y/N, being a close friend of Chip and Cal’s, working occasionally behind the scenes with them on their podcast, and Harry, a friend of the fellas, who danced around in friendship circles and was known by nearly everyone - the two were bound to meet at some point.
There was no denying that the pair shared a mutual attraction for one another. It was a chemistry so undeniable from the moment they met—they were drawn to each other like moths to a flame. And their encounters began innocently enough: casual flirtations and stolen glances exchanged at dimly lit bars and late-night gatherings—there was nothing more to it. Plus, Y/N had heard all the stories about him from their friends. That he’d just gotten out of a two-year relationship and was currently partaking in some debauched lifestyle, and she’d listen in on whispers about it too, that he was 'so good in bed’ but ‘not looking for anything serious’. She wasn’t completely sure if it was something she’d want to get involved in but she enjoyed the playfulness of their flirting nonetheless.
And Y/N was the same. Well, not in the sense that she was going out every night to try and 'score’ herself a good time with someone she’d wake up next to and not remember the name of, but in the sense that she just ended a lengthy relationship and was looking for something new. She knew the feeling of being lonely all too well, and she saw that in Harry. Beyond the way he capered around the bars and made the group laugh, she knew he was just lonely. While she knew deep down that in her heart she was a bit of a romantic and never used to just casually sleeping around, maybe something ‘not so serious’ with someone who was ‘good in bed’ would be something fun to try, something good for her. She was only young after all, and thought it would be a good break from her usual monogamy that she’d had going on for the past, however many years. So she let herself relax and dropped her guard down, allowing his flirtatious advances to be something more. And from there on their initial encounters began.
On one fateful evening, as the city hummed with the promise of excitement, Harry and Y/N found themselves alone as their friends danced and those that were in couples kissed the night away. The space between them crackled with anticipation, and they exchanged their usual playful banter over their glasses, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of jazz music that neither of them had heard before. Both of them knew what was on the other’s mind. With an interaction so heated with desire, burning like a wildfire out of control, and far too many shots of Sambuca mixed with obscene amounts of Long Island Iced Tea, it was bound to happen. It was the first night they ever dared share anything more than words, and as Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to Y/N, they both knew that that one kiss had ignited a spark between them. Finally, it set a flickering flame between them, their hearts ablaze with longing and passion. And without a word or nod to their friends, they had abandoned their drinks and made their way back to Harry’s flat, bodies drawn together like magnets, like crazed teenagers who had just had their first kiss and couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
That very night, they shared a night of ecstasy, a whirlwind of tangled limbs, and whispered confessions. Revelling in one another’s touch, they explored every inch of skin with a hunger that bordered on desperation. It was raw and intense, a collision of bodies and souls that left them both breathless and yearning for more.
And as dawn broke and the harsh light of morning filtered through the curtains, Harry and Y/N found themselves tangled in a web of confusion and uncertainty. They were just two strangers, bound together by lust and desire, with no expectations or promises between them.
That’s how it all started.
And, Y/N never did mean for it to be anything more than just two people trying to fill the void of a lonely night. But as the night turned to days, days to weeks, and weeks to months, the tryst between them continued, and they met whenever the urge struck. It was usually a text here or there from Harry asking if he could cover over after a night out, to which Y/N would weigh options out in her head but inevitably always reply with a ‘Yes,’. It was a nice arrangement of freedom between them, and the thrill of forbidden passion drove them to new heights.
Their friends were no strangers to what was going on between the pair. Uneasy glances were shared by the group as Harry and Y/N started leaving nights out early together, friends asking them, ‘Is this what you really want to be doing?’ or ‘You know these sorts of things never end well, right?’ but the pair didn’t care; it was their normal now.
It was different for them. They weren’t like their friends who were settling down and moving into houses with their significant others, some even having babies or getting engaged. They were lonely and just wanted to fill a void for a while—at least till the loneliness went away, they hoped. It was just how their nights went now; this was their routine, their shared intimacy—it was good for the pair.
But Y/N knew nothing good ever lasts.
She had started to realise that maybe she wasn’t as good as Harry was at the whole casual idea of fun. While it was good for a while, the constant comments from friends about ‘This isn’t going to end well’ and ‘You’re so much better than this, Y/N’ caught up. The once-anxious looks turned to disapproving ones, and Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had started to form in her like a dark cloud over London in mid-February. She knew all too well that this was no longer a casual idea of fun.
There was nothing casual about their stolen kisses and his fingers playing with her hair. There was nothing casual about their whispered pillow talks about their lifelong dreams and childhood stories. There was nothing casual about his lips pecking her forehead and his hands holding her face like she was the world. And there was nothing casual about the pit in her stomach that she’d feel when she saw him chatting up a girl in a bar—a girl that couldn’t have looked more different to her.
She realized it wasn’t right that she knew all his deepest, darkest secrets and that he knew hers. That she knew what foods upset his stomach or the way his nose crinkled when he felt nervous. The way he’d tap her thigh two times when they were out with friends to let her know that he wasn’t enjoying himself and wanted to leave. The way he held her as she lay on his lap and cried, his hands soothing her gently, There was nothing casual about it.
Y/N knew she had entered into their arrangement with the understanding that it was nothing more than a casual fling between ‘friends"—a temporary escape from the monotony of everyday life. But as she spent more and more time with Harry, she could see that she was getting more attached to and invested in their relationship than she had ever intended. And she wondered if it was the same for him—if the once lonely void in his heart felt filled by her presence.
So one night, as they lay naked, tangled together in Harry’s bed, her head pressed on his chest and his hands messing around with her hair, Y/N found herself unable to hold back her emotions of uncertainty any longer. ‘’Harry,’’ she whispers, her voice quiet and shaky with inconstancy. ‘’Can I ask you something?’’
‘’What is it, Y/N?’’ his hand now moving to trace circles on her skin.
‘’What is this?’’
‘’What do you mean?’’ he replies, sitting up slowly in the bed as Y/N’s head falls from his chest, and she’s forced to prop herself up so she’s now facing him.
Pulling the covers around her, Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever felt more vulnerable in her life. With his wide blue eyes staring at her, his flushed face, and his chest bare, she lets out a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding.
‘’This,’’ she points her finger between the pair, ‘’between us.’’
Harry looks up, his eyes widened by his confusion. "Surely you know by now that we’ve said it thousands of times. It’s casual sex, Y/N,’’ he says with an awkward laugh. A laugh that sends the coldest shiver down Y/N’s spine.
‘’But is it casual anymore?’’ It feels like the temperature has dropped in the room by 10 degrees, and Y/N wishes there was more than a linen sheet covering her. ‘’It’s been six months, Harry.’’
‘’Yes, six months of casual sex,’’ he sighs. ‘’I thought we agreed on this.’’
‘’I know we did, but how is this casual anymore?’’ she pauses. ‘’What’s casual about us spending more days of the week together than apart? Or showing up to meet our friends while holding each other’s hands? The fact that we’ve spent half a year on this? Or the fact that I feel like I know every single thing about you?’’
‘’Y/N, I-’’
‘’No, Harry. There’s nothing casual about this, and you know it.’’
‘’No, I don’t know that, Y/N,’’ he fires back, ‘’we had an agreement,’’
‘’Well, the agreement has gone out the window, Harry.’’
‘’That’s not my fault.’’
‘’I’m not saying it’s your fault,’’ frustration growing as she combs her hands through her hair. ‘’I’m just saying this isn’t the same as when we first started this.’’
He lets out a long exhale, “I feel like you’re making this bigger than it actually is.’’, now shifting himself to the edge of the bed, almost as if he’s trying to get as far away from her as possible. To hide from her sudden confrontation.
‘’Well, I feel like you have no clue how I feel,’’ she exhales. ‘’Have you not heard what our friends think about this whole thing?’’
‘’When have we ever cared what our mates think?’’ he groans, standing up from the bed to pick up a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that they had discarded on the floor no so long ago.
And in that moment, it felt like between them stood an invisible wall. An intangible barrier crackling with tension. Each glance exchanged across the divide carried the weight of unspoken words, a silent plea from Y/N for understanding that was only left unanswered by Harry. Despite their proximity, it was clear the pair remained worlds apart, separated by the impenetrable fortress of their own insecurities and fears. And as Harry stood and Y/N remained on the bed in defeat, the tension hung heavy, bouncing off the four walls that formed Harry’s bedroom.
Y/N couldn’t even muster a reply, feeling too tired to even argue. She wasn’t going to get anywhere. He was set in stone by the fact that what the pair shared over the course of a half-year was nothing more than casual. And maybe it was all Y/N’s fault that she had started to feel like there was something more than what he said there was, but she knew deep down it couldn’t have been all her fault. She knew it was him, too. With his whispered sentiments, caring touches, and shared moments and kisses in places only a lover should dare to kiss, she knew it was him too.
Harry realises she’s got nothing more to say as he looks down at her, sitting bare in his bed, her eyes wide and pleading.
Clearing his throat, he knows he’ll regret it in the morning but continues, ‘’Y/N, I think it’s best if you leave.’’
And Y/N feels like her heart falls from out of her chest. She’d not anticipated him asking her to leave. She hadn’t even anticipated the fact that he would be so adamant in the fact that there was nothing more than sex between the pair; she was unprepared and left defeated.
They share no words as Y/N scampers to find her abandoned clothing, and Harry stands awkwardly by the corner of the bed, turning around while she dresses, despite having seen it all before a hundred times.
And with one parting look, Y/N reaches his door, giving him one last glance with parted lips. She’s desperate to say something, but no words come out. If her lips could open, she’d scream and tell him what she really wants to say, but they don't.
‘’It’s for the best.’’ he whispers, as she’s half way out the door, and as she goes to leave his apartment, she barely notices the tears that fill up her eyes and fall gently down her face.
And in that moment, she knew that Harry was nothing more than a lonely boy, his heart still empty and her presence wasted on him. The sound of his blinking eyes, his soothing hands, his beating heart, and the way he moved were all just a waste of time.
It’s for the best.
-
a/n: super angsty harry & y/n piece for you all!!! hope u all enjoy. might do a part 2 cos i'm a sucker for a happy ending so let me know if thats something you'd be interested in. thanks for reading & i really appreciate all the likes and reblogs xxx
i would love if you wrote a lil sum ab reader doing random couple trends on tiktok w bogg!!! luv ur writing always x
10/10, harry lewis.
summary: you try to do the 'rating my boyfriend throughout the day' trend with harry.
warnings: allusions to smut
notes: i love this trend but it makes me feel so single so i hate it.
you started off by recording you and harry when you two had just woken up, he was in the middle of one of his morning rants about the sizes of donuts and why they had to be agreeable to the price when you noticed the position you were in.
no matter how you and harry lay in bed, he always woke up slightly on top of you and eventually shifted until he lay fully on top of you. right then, his head was on your chest as his arms wrapped around you, one of his hands tracing random shapes on your waist, creeping underneath the night shirt you wore.
recording a small clip, you laughed at a comment harry made about being able to eat like a pig, before writing a caption on it.
4/10, forgets i'm smaller than him and uses me as his personal pillow in the mornings.
the next clip you recorded was after you had stepped out of the shower, towel and bathrobe on as you made your way to your vanity. preparing to start on your skincare and makeup for the day, you were interrupted by harry waltzing into the room with a cup of tea for you.
you decided not to bring up his allergy to knocking on doors before entering ("i've seen it all before, why do i have to knock?" he'd usually frown) but instead hold your hands to your heart as you awed aloud.
"you act like i don't usually do this, babe" he laughed at your reaction, kissing your lips as he set the mug down on the table.
"i mean you do, but still, it just warms my heart," you giggled that intoxicating giggle that harry loved so much, throwing your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips to his again.
10/10, brought me a morning tea 🥹🥹🥹
later on in the day, you lay on the couch with harry at your feet, your legs in his lap as he massaged your feet absentmindedly, considering his full attention was on the football match on the telly.
you should've known that when harry said he'd watch dubai bling with you, he's find a way to get out of it. and there he was, mumbling to himself as he watched chelsea fumble yet another attempt.
"fuck me, this is shit," he sighed, throwing his arms up and accidentally dropping them on your legs.
"hey," you frowned, moving your legs off of his lap. but before you could harry was grabbing them back to where they were.
"no, don't do that," he whispered softly, still watching the telly.
"harry," you groaned. "you said you'd watch tv with me, not this."
"i know, sweetheart, we can watch after it's finished, can't we?" he looked at you, fingers running up and down your slightly exposed leg.
"it's not the same though."
"you're right. what you want to watch is prerecorded and this is live," he smiled, quickly turning back to the tv and groaning aloud as a player received a yellow card.
pulling out your phone, you recorded a clip of harry with a frown on your face, stifling a laugh at how focused he looked.
2/10, chose football over me and also outsassed me.
later on in the day, harry wanted to get out for a bit of fresh air and he promised you ice cream from the new cafe that opened near you.
whilst you sported a hoodie of his over some leggings, harry stuck to the stereotype of the boyfriend that was never cold and wore a compression shirt paired with some nike shorts.
"i wish we had a dog to take on some of these walks with us," you sighed dramatically.
"don't push it, you know what happened to herb." harry shut you down quite quickly, reaching for your hand as you walked next to him.
you always found it adorable that no matter what setting you were in, harry would always find a way to make sure he was physically with you, mainly by holding your hand.
once you got your ice cream, harry walked ahead for you to open the door as you held the small tub. you knew what was coming, so you got out your phone to prepare to catch the moment on camera.
harry stayed ahead of you for a little longer, waiting for you to get your things together, scrolling on his phone as he did so. when he thought you were done, without looking back to check, he held his hand out for you to take, still walking ahead of you.
you couldn't help but squirm and awe on the inside at this seemingly nonchalant gesture as you took his hand, it was everything to you.
11/10, no explanation needed... just hand holding <333
back at home, harry was editing a video that he and the boys had filmed since it was his turn.
he had on his glasses and was sitting on top of the duvet of your bed, looking so... biteable. you couldn't help but want his attention.
when he put the laptop to the side for a bit you took this as your cue, rolling over from your side of the bed and straddling him, a leg on either side of his.
"you alright?" harry inquired, smiling at you with tired eyes. you nodded, a smile on your face as you inched closer and pressed kisses all over his face.
his hands gripped at your waist as you pressed your lips to his, groaning at contact a little. "y/n," he breathed out between kisses. "i have to finish... the video."
yet he made no attempt to detach himself from you.
pulling away, you looked at him with dopey eyes and a matching dopey smile.
"you're so pretty," you cooed, to which his cheeks warmed at.
"and you're not," he smirked, catching your lips with his before you could say something back. your hand tussled in his hair as you hummed into the kiss, never wanting it to end.
"okay wait, i really have to finish that video," harry sighed, pulling away with one last kiss to your lips. "i'm all yours after, i promise."
you nodded, sliding off of his body to cosy up next to him and watch as he edited some more, filming the last clip for your tiktok.
summary: some of your most memorable times with harry. [7k words.]
pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)
notes: smut warning. lazily edited. I’M SO NERVOUS OMFG I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M POSTING THISSSSSS I DONT WANNAAAA 😆 NO COMMENT, GONE INTO HIDING 🏃🏽♀️ kidding, let me know what you thought ❤️🔥 longly anticipated so enjoy my babies, don’t forget to reblog. <333
“NO, IT’S A REAL THING THAT HAPPENS, I ASSURE YOU.”
“Oh . . ‘I assure you.’”
“No! No! No! Not like that, not like—”
It was February, and the boys had a splendid idea that for a Valentine’s Day Special, the girlfriends would do an episode of Side+ to talk all things love, romance, and date nights.
Well, you’d briefly covered those three – 15 minutes after, you had plunged right into the topic of girl secrets, flawing the boys and the main topic they told you to try as avoid (for probably their own sanity) —sex.
“Are you sure?! I really thought it was a myth!” Faith looked across at you.
“No, it’s real,” you almost rolled your eyes, laughing at her reaction.
“To be fair, I thought it was fake too,” Talia said from your left, Ellie raising her brows surprised whilst Freya tapped her chin in thought with her finger.
“Very messy,” you choked on a laugh, the girls exploding in cackles at your comment. You looked to the cameras shamefully, knowing Harry would probably kill you. “Ok! Ok! Next subject! Next subject!”
“No, I couldn’t be arsed with that. You should see the mood of me when I’ve to change my sheets after putting my tan on, I hate changing the bedding.”
“Could do it elsewhere?” Freya raised her brows, the table filling with giggles again.
“No, I have the back of an 80-year-old as it is at the minute, you’ll not catch me anywhere but my bed,” Talia laughed, twirling the wires of the microphone.
“I don’t know how these people do it in risky places, it baffles my brain,” Ellie shared, the girls nodding in response, “like, do you want to be caught!?!”
“I can’t think of anywhere really spontaneous I’ve done it,” Freya swirled in her chair.
All heads tilted to the centre of the desk where you sat, an embarrassed grin tugging your lips as you dropped your face to your hands, the heat crawling up your neck in your already warm hoodie. “Stop!”
“Y/n, you are so bad!”
“No, the stories I’ve heard from her over the years,” Talia jutted her thumb in your direction.
“You actually give me grey hairs. You actually do,” Freya almost scolded you with amusement in her voice.
“You are a crazy horse, y/n darlin’.”
“FAITH?!”
“What?! The stuff you be telling me has me having a heart attack and I didn’t even do it!”
“Oh my god,” you grumbled, your fingers on your warm cheeks, “there is something wrong with me, I actually do get possessed or something.”
“DEFINITELY!”
“You’re actually not right.”
“Why are you like that?”
You were flabbergasted at these comments when they could all be just as horny as you could be. “I’m a horny person, girls! It’s normal!”
“Not to your extent,” Freya mumbled into her water bottle, “we all like a shag but you act like it’s the end of the world with your carry-on.”
The girls all laughed at you and you did too, dispaired in your seat, you shook your head at their teasing.
“Do you still send nudes?”
“Uh, duh.”
“Not really, no.”
“Never.”
“Rarely.”
What the fuck is wrong with these girls?!
“Where is the craziest place you’ve done it? Or places in general? WAIT NO! Have any of you done it with either set of parents in the house?”
“Obviously.”
“‘Course not.”
“Fuck no!”
“Never!”
Yet again, you were the one who had facepalmed after your confession, clearly thinking you were all on the same page when you were not.
“Y/N!”
“WHAT?! I WAS YOUNG WHEN I MET HIM?!”
“Y/n, I met Josh around the same age as you did and I have never in our 13 years tried to ride him with my parents or his parents under the same roof.”
“Oh my god—” you muttered in your hands.
Maybe did have a problem.
“Where is the best place to have sex? Or best sex you’ve had,” Faith asked, “let’s discuss.”
“No,” you drew on the whiteboards from earlier.
“Yes. In fact, can we rank? Can you pull up like a picture of a bed, of a wall, car and we’ll rank our fav places! Our fav times!” You all watched the diagram form on the screen and laughed at the options. “Yeah, this is great, let’s get it. Let’s start First Time, where’s this going on the table?”
“Is this first time ever or first time with current partner?” Tal asked.
“Either or.”
“Well I don’t count my first time, I don’t count my first few times ‘cause it was fucking shit and I didn’t even get an orgasm so,” you threw your pen down in a huff, “i’m counting mine with Harry’s.”
The girls all laughed, knowing the story all too well of your first time with your ‘first boyfriend’ (a boy you’d been with for 5 months) and how you had almost been put off sex for life because it just wasn’t how you thought it was supposed to be. It was just an interaction of . . in and out . . and you were getting nothing out of it.
“I’d be surprised if your first time wasn’t in a bed, hun.”
“My first time I was on top,” you knew you'd either get laughs or gasps while Frey hit your arm scoldfully, “better still: didn’t use a condom, so—” you tried to shield yourself from her whacking, clearly not approving of this statement in case it were to be taken as advice. Such a mum.
You sat back and pondered, it was hard to think of your favourite time.
THE FIRST TIME
You remembered your first time with Harry like it yesterday, how his mum and dad had gone out for the night and he’d been left to watch Josh and Rosie — except both had gone to their friends’ houses and didn’t plan on coming back ‘til midnight. You remembered not thinking much of it, the whole thing unplanned and naturally occurring, it was sweet. It was a good first time, some giggles and no awkwardness — the only unusual thing that might have occurred was the fact you’d got on top.
“–wait! wait! wait! I don’t know if I can do this,” you panted, your hands wobbling on his broad chest as his palms covered your waist, heat radiating off the two of you as you hovered above Harry and his cock.
“You can, it’s fine, it’s fine!” Harry reassured, moving his hands further to your hips where he slowly guided you back down, “just . . go slow . .”
“I’m SCARED!”
“You can do it, I promise,” he chuckled at your nervousness. There was a reason people didn’t do this during their first time.
You could remember lowering yourself down, eyes locked on him as he slipped in that very first time, shy moans escaping your mouth, you were taken back by how easy he slipped inside you with how wet you were, “oh my god,” you grunted, mouth falling open as he filled you up, inch by inch.
“Fuck me,” he breathed, watching himself disappear in you, almost completely gone, wrapped around your pretty cunt. You were focused on him and those long dark lashes staring down between you, his messy, sweaty hair tangled across his head and those flushed cheeks. You ached for him, and the thought of doing something you knew you shouldn’t be doing because of the opportunity, it felt even better.
“You’re fuckin’ tight,” he mumbled, hands running up and down your legs.
“Sorry,” you confusedly mumbled, too focused trying to hold your weight above you.
You remembered that last inch you couldn’t take, already feeling full with him inside you, but Harry was adamant, he knew you could take him, and looking into those trusting eyes, you remembered the pleasure that fulfilled you when he jutted his hips up into you, filling you whole, allowing you to release those moans all you wanted. You remembered being able to move to a steady rhythm once you adjusted to him, his length snug in you, you began to rock your lower half, his hands controlling your hips, the moans slipped out of you with ease, “—Harry!”
You remembered the eye contact, the proud smiles and messy hair. You remembered feeling safe with your arms locked around his neck when he sat up slightly, connecting your lips as you felt every inch of him in you. “I love you,” you voiced, wet mouth trailing up and down your neck and chest, your tits occupying his hands, you’d never felt like this before.
“I love you more,” he pulled your face closer to his, hot and steamy kisses bruising your lips as you neared the edge.
Gradually, of course, your growth in experience had resulted in beds breaking and headboards chipping paint off the walls with its repetitive banging, the plush mattress would comfort your back while your legs would be up over Harry’s shoulders, eyes dazed and fluttering with each thrust he gave, splitting you in half.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
Each time your voice pitched higher, but to Harry, it was like a symphony.
“You can take it,” one hand would hold onto the headboard while the other held your foot, and you’d have to bite your lip to stop any more sounds leaving, not remembering if Callum had come home yet, but it’d be so hard, and Harry would smile at your struggling, and you’d be smiling up at him, hoping he didn’t stop.
THE FLOOR
It was always so frenetic when it came to you wanting a fuck, so eager, impatient and slightly tilting on the aggressive side because of how desperate you became, it kind of irritated Harry how all patience went out the window – which only worsened things because you loved seeing him all angry at you. “Quick! It doesn’t matter!” You cried, you yanked Harry’s head back from the doorway of the villa, your hair sticking to your back. It was 11:00 at night and still feeling 100 degrees. The group were still clubbing as you’d just stepped through the door, the house empty and silent until you and Harry came stumbling home, escaping the carnage so you could have time to yourselves.
And be as loud as you wanted.
“Quick, Harry,” you begged, rising on your knees as he took himself out of his shorts, the heat getting to you as the straps to your dress fell. You couldn’t even properly undress yourself — you couldn't even make it to the bedroom, you’d latched yourself onto him in the kitchen, swinging you both around in the kitchen, you tumbled to the ground and climbed like it was nothing, your lips hot on his, his movements just as rushed as his hands ran all over and around you, squeezing and gripping your ass, hugging your sides and tits, you rushed to lift the trail of your dress.
Fucking on the floor was an all-time low, the concept so fucking dirty (even in a luxurious villa) but my god, did you love it. You didn’t care, you’d let him fuck you anywhere, any time, even on a dirty, old floor.
Harry watched how you slapped his hands away from his shorts and began undoing his belt for him, hands shaking, he laughed at your eagerness, “you are a dirty bitch,” the grin grew on his face as your face fell into full concentration, sweat gleaming across your head, “you’re gonna get it, stop rushing,” he pushed your hands back to lift his hips and push himself. He felt your smirk against his mouth as your lips attacked his again, wasting no second slipping your tongue in. You lifted your hips as he guided his cock to your entrance, looking over his shoulder once more to make sure no one was coming through the door before sliding into you. “Fuck me.”
“Oh my GOD!” You remembered fucking him as fast as possible, your hips bucking at a dangerous speed while he met you halfway. You were almost crying in despair for this orgasm, your hands on his shoulders for support. Your eyes watched the door while his eyes grazed your tits which were practically free from your dress, you rode him shamelessly with your cries filling the villa. The idea of someone walking in had your heart racing, but also clenching even tighter around him as you hugged his head close to you, fingers scratching into the back of his head. “Mmm–Harry . . ” you winced, your orgasm close but not close enough.
You remembered your hands slapping onto the ground behind you as he sat forward, taking control with a harsh snap of his hips, his cock pairing right through you. The floor became slippy, your skin on fire. You moaned and moaned and when it was almost over, you felt yourself cumming harder seeing how dirty your hands were, knowing he was the only one to get you like this.
And you’d do it again and again and again.
KITCHEN COUNTER
Seriously, you remembered a wholesome day of showing your friends and families your brand new home and giving them a tour of the place, and whilst your heart was filled with gratitude, you couldn't wait for Harry to fill you up when you entered the kitchen and saw how his hips met the perfect height of the kitchen counter.
“Oh it’s lovely, isn’t it?” His mum ran her hand over the countertop and Harry copied, reaching over to get a good feel while you gulped, wondering why the fuck your mind had to go there.
“Yeah, it is,” you agreed, dragging your nails along the marble slate, and Harry found himself smirking too as his mind intruded with filthy thoughts too.
“—move your legs further apart,” he kicked your feet further away from the other, a firm hold on your hips to stop you from falling. You moaned at the contact of his thickness pushing through, your nails gripping the edge of the countertop in pure bliss at the delicious angle. You moaned as he filled you snug, pushing all the way, you didn’t know if the pressure in your stomach was from him or the countertop, either way, it was so tasty.
“I think I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, a bit amused but more pathetic, you frowned with your cheek pressed into the cold countertop.
“Already?”
Harry’s brow perked cockily although you couldn’t see, but you could hear the humour in his tone and imagine that smug grin on his lips. He pulled a good distance back before ramming back into you, your legs already shaking with pleasure.
“Uh—fuck! Keep doing that!”
“You’re fuckin’ dripping everywhere, you been thinking about this all mornin’?” you moaned at his change in rhythm, the way he quickened his pace and cut his thrusts short, he pushed you further and further into the counter, taking your arms behind your back. You hadn’t felt this sort of intensity in a long time, you were speechless.
“Oi,” a loud smack echoed the room as a gasp tumbled off your lips, your right asscheek stinging red.
“Yes,” you nodded breathlessly, eyes rolling back as he hit your certain spot.
“This the first thing you wanted to do on your new kitchen counter, huh?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed smugly, “had to christen it before I make anything on it, right?”
“You’ll remember that anytime you come in here to make anything for our friends and family,” you just shrugged at his words. You didn’t care. It was your house, you did what you wanted, who would find out anyway?
You tried to lift your leg even more, to get as much of that inviting angle as you could, and Harry helped, holding your ankle to shove it up further onto the kitchen island, putting you in the most awkwardest but exposing angle. “I’m gonna have you walking funny for a week, mate,” his fingers dug into your hips, and you could have come undone all at once, but you refused to let this be over already, so you did your best to hold back as best you could for an even better release, your cries supporting his promise furthermore as he pounded into you.
CLUB WALL
The vibrations of music blasting around the room only made your head fuzzier, your spirit already buzzing from your heavy consumption of drink, floating on cloud 9. You couldn’t remember if it was the club’s wall or in the bathroom stall, didn’t matter either way, you’d done both, drunk enough to not give a fuck but cautious enough to do it somewhere you had a 0% chance of getting caught.
Or maybe 10.
20 even.
30.
Your arms were around his neck, eyes warm with tenderness, he was the only one you could focus on. It was dark, loud, and stuffy but your mind was set on Harry and his hazy eyes, messy hair and strong arms holding you up against the wall. You watched how he struggled to get your skirt up by your hips, the material tight, only making him want to tear it off more. You grunted at his rough hands, the skirt burning your thigh as you kept your legs wrapped around him. You watched him in full focus, the way he was obviously frustratedly impatient, his angry furrowed brows and frown making you want him more. You remembered the feeling, the adrenaline, the race of your heart at the fear of getting caught but not caring enough to take the risk. You remembered his hot kisses, the way you could barely keep up with his lips when he was inside you, taking any last bit of focus you had. Your high-pitched sounds tumbled freely against his mouth, the bass of the music drowning them out. You were sticky, sweaty, and so so turned on.
You could have cried.
You remembered sliding down the wall after, unable to hold yourself when Harry tried to set you down, filled with his cum, legs exhausted. You sat there, heart pounding, legs full with pins and needles, but the sight of him tucking himself back into his pants, the veins still sticking out in his hands, the flushed cheeks and scorned brows – you were willing to stay on your knees and suck him off.
BATHROOM STALL
You’d done a bathroom stall before, but my god, would you never forget that one celebratory party, the one in one of the most extravagant hotel lobbies with the monster nightclub. Dubai, or maybe it was Las Vegas. L.A.? You couldn’t remember, you could just remember the longing you did for your man that night, separated from him for the night as you mingled amongst the girls and celebrities from across the pond while he did the same with the guys. You were bored to fucking death. If anything the martinis were just making you more angsty, a ticking noise playing in your mind as you counted down the seconds this thing was over and you could get back to your man for some real entertainment.
You bumped into him on the way to the toilets, the smirk forming on his face making others wonder if you were two strangers meeting for the first time, eyes dancing with excitement at the sight of the other. “Where you goin?” he asked, subconsciously stepping aside from his friend group, following your direction. He was so handsome, cheeky glint in his eye and that black t-shirt? You wanted to eat him.
“Bathroom. I’m just out?” you smiled as his hands instinctively found your hips, your arm resting over his shoulder with your drink in hand. He kept walking back, keeping eye contact, smiling into a kiss, you looked at him suspiciously as he guided you backwards, back towards the toilets.
There – his mouth attacked yours, his hands bunching as much of your ass as he could. Your back crashed into the door of a stall, your feet stumbling back, you slightly scolded Harry in the midst of your make out sesh, your ankle throbbing from hitting the toilet.
But that long left your memory when he almost broke the door trying to lock the latch so quick, his hands flying to your legs, he dropped to his knees and your eyes widened. You were convinced you’d drooled too. Your skirt was bunched up to your stomach, free from restraint, you could spread them as wide as you wanted. The twinge of pleasure that shot through you made your head spin, his tongue lapping you up like there was no tomorrow, you could have fainted.
Your hands pressed to either side of the stall walls, trying to keep yourself from crumbling under his touch; his actions had your whole lower half twitching, you almost broke into sobs at how good it was.
He was enjoying it too much. He dove his face into you, warm tongue exploring you, his nose repeatedly nudged your clit. “Harry please,” you choked, the pleasure unbearable, and when you came? He didn’t stop.
You did fall slightly, trying to remove yourself from him, but he just kept going. Your hand was gripping his hair, wanting him to stop but at the same time, keep going, it was blissfully overbearing. “Oh my god!” you tensed, surprised you hadn’t crushed his head yet with your thighs, never mind suffocated. You were convinced he wanted to go that way because he didn’t care.
When he stopped, his chin was soaked, and even at that, he still tried to kiss you, but you kept him at bay with a hand on his forehead, needing a second to catch your breath with a heaving chest.
The sight of him made your heart flutter.
CAR
The car wasn’t your favourite, at least for actual sex. Too small, stuffy. Very messy. Plus, Harry hated the way the windows dried with dirty hand prints on them, ignoring when a family member asked about them and he had to lie and say you did it as a joke and that it wasn’t real.
Hm.
The teasing was good, though. You loved Harry driving more than anything, it was a common thing! People liked their man driving! They looked hot doing it!
He rarely drove if ever, so seeing him behind the wheel was hot as it was, the way he gripped the steering wheel or turned it with an open palm - you didn’t understand why it was so fucking sexy.
You remembered his new car, the way you had a long drive one weekend in it for the first time, how it ran smoothly along the quiet roads, relaxing you both, you could have melted into the seats.
It was a playful journey, you’d messed the whole time, giggling and making fun of others, teasing the other for their behaviour and calling them out for their acts, it was such a wholesome journey, your heart full of endearment watching him and his side profile.
London roads were irritating though, once back in the city, and although home was so close, it’d be at least another hour ‘til you got there with the traffic. You were both getting tired, and antsy to get in bed; it was dark and cold outside and you could only see the streetlamps and car lights flashing outside, you didn’t want to drive anymore.
You smirked at the memory of your act, how you kept your head straight ahead when you rubbed and squeezed his thigh, seeing the side glance he gave. It almost made you crack, but he knew you were amused. You didn’t waste a minute, you squeezed him through his sweats, the menace you were, laughing wickedly as he tried to throw your hand off him.
“Fuck off,” he told you, not affording a distraction from the non-moving road, but a grunt caught in his throat when you slid your hand back over, leaning your body with it, watching his Adam’s apple bob as you palmed him through his trousers, feeling him in your hand.
It was dumb to do, but it was the sexiest thing to see him squirm in his seat letting you jack him off, still easily controlling the car with one hand.
You didn’t really care at the thought of someone looking over and seeing your head in his lap or his hand tightly in your hair - you found his multitasking incredibly sexy, and to be honest - you kind of wished they would.
SHOWER
The shower was also a low score, it was hard trying to keep still with a slippy floor and cold wet tiles, but again, when you got the position right – it could be amazing.
You loved roaming your hands all over him, sudding up his chest and stomach, scraping it down his back with your nails with steam circulating off the two do you, you loved looking up and seeing his hair soaking wet, dripping, even more when his hands were feeling you up.
It was more of an intimate thing, the teasing and messing around, trying to wash your own hair without getting groped, but my god, how you loved falling into him when his hands slipped softly up your back around your sides before coming up to your tits, groping him roughly with a sound of a laugh. He loved that, and resting his head on your shoulder, in your neck, watching the water run off you, keeping you warm with his chest pressed into your back, hands and fingers playing with your chest.
Comforting.
JEALOUS SEX
The places didn’t matter so much though, whether in a hot tub with the chance of a £200 fine, the Sidemen office during their lunch break or at your parent’s place trying your best to be quiet — sometimes it was the type of sex you were having, not the position, although let’s face it, they contributed a lot, but the narrative behind it - the emotional drive behind it.
Jealousy sex had to be up there - you were one possessive fucker, but so was Harry.
You weren’t an intimidated person, people confessed their crush on your man all the time but you never felt threatened, and Harry could hardly make eye contact with his reflection, so you didn’t give a fuck as much as he did — the thing that got you both was the audacity of others.
You might not have felt threatened, but you hated seeing girls do everything in their power to try and convince your man, that they were better then you, like they ever stood a chance, but the sight of letting themselves down as women by their desperation. Feeding into the male ego. Making themselves look stupid throwing themselves at him.
Harry rejecting them had to make you the horniest version of yourself ever. He didn’t even have to be a dick about it, an awkward escape or just a friendly wave ‘stop’ of his hand to them and nod to his girlfriend — you were ready to fuck his brains out.
Harry liked when you got jealous, when you got home and he got to see you become the desperate one, even though you played it off for being unbothered, he loved seeing how it got under your skin. He liked to wind you up even further about it.
The worst case of jealousy you’d got had you acting up like a demon though, your rage feeding into the movement of your body when it came to sex. You were known to come across as unbothered online, the topic not even making you flinch – you weren’t nervous in the slightest at the thought of this famous influencer thirsting over your man — didn’t care the whole internet hyped her up to think she was the most hottest thing to walk the planet — didn’t care how she’d stated how you weren’t a problem in her way trying to fuck your man.
Harry didn’t give a shit either, which had you dripping as it was, but still - it was the audacity of her to fearlessly voice her interest in him, how adorably geeky he was as if she was purposefully trying to get a reaction out of you. She managed to get on a nerve, not that you’d ever let her know that.
“She thinks she can do what I do?” you spoke more to yourself, laugh trying to break through, tongue trailing along the happy trail of your man.
Harry used to consider you possessed. You fucked him like you were trying to prove something, like reminding him why he would never leave you - you gave him everything.
But you didn’t need to fuck him to rub it in her face - him holding your hand upon meeting her was the most fulfilling thing he could have done, and you fucked him hard for that like a reward ‘til he couldn’t ever remember meeting her.
ANGRY SEX
Harry’s jealousy was different compared to yours because when Harry got jealous, he was able to put you in a bad mood.
When you got jealous it was hilarious, he could wind you up all he wanted, but god forbid you go there, not one smile could be cracked and then he was angry with you too for not taking him seriously.
He was a petty king and he could go days without talking to you until you said sorry.
“You’re actually digging your grave here.”
He’d thrown the house keys on the counter after almost having to break down the door, it wouldn’t open. The ‘fall out’ had happened after Friday night, after you’d both been out with your friend group, partying it up for some big event for the weekend other few celebs were attending.
You’d had a great time — everyone did! Faith won a £150 bottle of Rosè in some competition, JJ a voucher (like he needed it) and Behz grabbed a pic with Declan Rice.
You got talking to . . an old friend, the conversation not even 10 minutes long and you hadn’t seen Harry since the beginning of the night so it’s not like you ditched and blanked him.
You’d done nothing wrong. You were as friendly and as polite as you would have been to him as you would an old girl friend.
Harry didn’t like him.
He didn’t like the way he looked at you the whole time like you’d be stumbling through the door of his hotel room and show him what was just under that blue, shimmering dress.
“He wasn’t even lookin’ at the dress?!”
“You’re right, he was looking through to your soul to try and get you to fall in love with him.”
You looked at him so oddly.
Right. Ok.
“Seriously, don’t talk to him.”
“Harry, not that I was going to talk to him again, but don’t tell me what to do,” you deadpanned, pulling out his hold in the bathroom.
He hadn’t even been that bothered until the teasing from friends came in . . and then girls bullying him . . and then your comment just set him off.
“He was being friendly!”
“With his fuck me eyes?”
“Those are his friendly eyes,” you chuckled, cupping his face, but he stopped your wrist before you could touch him, his face turning up at your comment.
“What?”
“What?” You were confused.
Then it snowballed, Saturday he’d not spoken to you after you began saying things purposefully to piss him off ‘cause his mood had just worsened:
“Don’t fuckin’ reply to him.”
“Or what?” You grinned, smiling smugly, typing away on your phone.
You were on Facetime to Faith, telling her about the situation (not that it was much of a situation) and she was laughing silently on call to you, not wanting Harry to hear.
“Or what?” He questioned your response, turning around as if he’d heard wrong. “Or your fuckin’ bags are out in the street,” he said, slamming the microwave door harder than it needed to.
“S’alright, I know where to go–where I’ll be wanted,” you said pettily, winking at Faith as if for her to see this, but the way Harry’s eyes shot to you, you knew you’d not just hit a nerve. Even Faith was biting her fist with a smile of shock on her face, knowing how bad Ethan would take that.
He stared at you, silence deafening, and eventually shook his head, but you were just showing off in front of your friend and you’d make it up to him, he knew it was obviously a joke, obviously.
Right?
He told you to say sorry or to not get in bed, and you laughed more, asking him if he was serious.
You were offended he’d thought for one second you were being for real.
“Say you're sorry?” he repeated.
“No?”
Why would you? You had nothing to be sorry for? It was a joke?
You paid the price of it.
That Sunday afternoon rolled around after your final night of the 3-day event. You got home, Harry still quiet with you and you were kind of as irritated with him back as he still believed you owed him an apology.
He got it, because when the possessiveness kicked in: he played dirty to get it.
“—don’t stop, don’t stop!” your knees shook as his head stayed buried between your legs, lapping you up in the kitchen against the counter like it was nobody's business.
Devouring you while you struggled to try and not cum so fast, his actions were rough and messy but so insanely hot.
He built up an orgasm in minutes, you didn’t know if the wetness dripping down your leg was from him or you. “Fuck—uh! Keep going!” You cried, his hair tickling your thighs.
But then in the middle of sucking your sensitive clit, stars in your vision, you felt emptiness, bare, you felt the air on your skin as he pulled away, leaning back on his knees, he got up on his feet, chin still glistening.
He stepped past you, wiping his face, he almost bumped your shoulder, “you know where to go. You know where you’re wanted.”
You remembered almost crying. Looking at him like he was some psychopath.
He definitely wasn’t getting a fucking sorry now.
“He did it better than you anyway,” you rattled off, making it up on the spot.
Harry twirled at that.
He nearly smiled.
It was a lie, but the nerve of you to say it — oh you were brave.
“—he wasn’t better than you, no-one’s – no-one’s better than you!”
You took the pounding, head forced roughly against your kitchen table by the roots of your hair, your cheek flat against the surface, “‘m sorry!” you muffled, “sorry! sorry! I’m sorry!—” eyes rolling in the back of your head with spit sliding down the side of your lips, you were convinced this was the best sex you’d ever have.
He was ramming into you like he could fuck the attitude out of you. Each thrust sent shocks of sharp satisfaction to your stomach, a smack to your ass, straight to your core.
Harry found it the hottest thing ever. The minute you’d said it once, he was happy – to say it again and again each time he hit your g-spot, he was gonna release the biggest load all over you ‘til it was dripping down your legs. He didn’t want to hear you stop saying sorry.
TEETH
There were other times which were just as memorable, whether the time you’d thought he was going bite your nipple like you’d said on the Saving Grace podcast:
“Fuck! . . MM—FUCK!”
Cowgirl.
A long weekend apart.
He fucked you like it’d been weeks.
You could just remember how intensely your orgasm was building, that coil close to snapping, you couldn’t move any faster.
Harry’s big hands held your back, his hips bucking up into you, his hot mouth ran over your bouncing tits as he looked up at you, licking your nipple, and the other, covering them with his saliva. You moaned at the sensation, the way he took them in his mouth. Your head threw back, hair falling over your shoulder, his finger pressed deeper into your shiny skin. You were close. Your arm hung around his neck trying to stay up, your body exhausted from previous rounds, your actions getting sloppy.
Harry but your nipple, the action grabbing your attention and spiking your courage up. You looked at him with furrowed brows, mouth still whimpering moans out, movements quickening again. He looked at you dead in the eye, teeth biting down harder, you didn’t break contact as your moans became ones mixed with both pain and pleasure, blurring well together, you didn’t know what your whines were from. Your heart rate picked up as your hips bucked, moving ferociously to the edge, you felt it coming, voicing it to Harry, you attempted to move away from his mouth but he stayed put, a shriek leaving you as the pain built into your orgasm, blending in with the thrill, it was like he bit harder the closer you got.
You screamed as you came, spasming your hips as you drenched his thighs, he let go with a somewhat slap to the face to break him out of his frenzy. It was probably one of the best orgasms you had, but Jesus Christ, were you scared for a sec.
DRENCHED
Or when you’d unmeaningly confessed your familiarity with squirting . . like now, and how it played a huge factor in Harry’s redundancy for sex:
“–so fucking messy,” he screwed his nose up at your instigation.
“I can’t help it,” you defended, screwing your face up at him.
What guy got annoyed at his girl for being able to make her squirt? You always cleaned it anyway.
You looked at him, leaning on his chest, fingers drawing shapes on it, mentally pleading him.
His nonchalance was the sexiest thing about him. “. . only you can do that to me,” you played on it, finger brushing against his bottom lip.
He looked at you flat faced.
Who was he to deny his girl?
But he did: he hated the squirting.
You came everywhere. Sometimes he liked it but it was such an inconvenience. From his fingers alone, you drenched your bed, the floor - wherever you did it. His face always looked a little pestered during and after, but glancing up at you, cheeks red and breathing heavy after the desired intensity — he broke, smiling, seeing his girl look guilty every time with her innocent expression.
He’d lean in for a kiss, hiding the prideful smile on his face, hands already nearing again.
REUNION SEX
But the best was always reunion sex. I missed you sex. You and Harry hardly spent a lot of time away from each other, not even a month at the most, that is however, excluding when you broke up.
That first time together after almost two years apart, knowing what it was like with other people, realising how rare your bond was — it was like heroin. You could never part from it again.
You could feel the love being shared. The unspoken ‘i missed you.’
It was hard to kiss, you were smiling so hard, wrapped up in his warmth, engulfed by his scent, your heart was happy at the feel of his hands all over you where they belonged. His hold was tight, his movements fast and his strength – the size of him — he was no longer that ignorant and immature boy, this was a man.
Well, still your immature man at times.
You squealed when he picked you up, wrapping your bare legs around his waist, he smiled at that old familiar sound.
You didn’t want to stop kissing him.
Your head spun at moments that felt like deja vu, you remembered sitting on top his hips, giggling nervously completely naked, his own chuckles of laughter leaving him as he lay with his arm over his eyes, both your stomachs nervous with butterflies for some odd reason.
And then you remembered the memory of your first time together, and the nervous giggles, and how you said you didn’t think you could fit all of him in there.
A low groan pulled off Harry’s lips at the feel of your tight walls sucking him in, he couldn’t explain how it made him feel, that this was you, he was with you, he got to do this again. No one else compared.
“Keep going.”
“It’s not all in?!”
Your head snapped to him in shock.
Your hands were shaking on his broad chest, trying to hold up your weight, your eyes wide. You felt pretty fucking full as you were, you must have interpreted him wrong. “No!” He sniggered, keeping a hand on your hip, “nearly.”
Harry was laughing at your facial expression as if you weren’t buying it and turning your face up at the accusation, but . . it had been a long time and . . you’d seen other people and . . settled for less.
Clearly.
The feeling once you took him whole was the most overwhelming ever, the sparks of pleasure shooting around you both, tingles running from your toes to your chest, wrapping all around you. Harry’s palms found his eyes, feeling it was a dream while you slowly began to find a steady flow, grinding your hips seductively slow, twisting round and round, your body fell into a smooth rhythm; rocking your hips, you threw your head back in bliss, hair falling behind your back, you moved your arms behind you on either side, angling yourself enough to feel his thickness stretch to that certain spot.
You controlled the whole lower half of your body, practically just using Harry as he lay there with his hand wandering all over: your hips, thighs, ass, tits — it was the way he liked it -he liked to do the work too, but getting to watch you do it was better.
Watching you made him want to take over, like a flip of possessiveness when he understood how lucky he was to have you: you were fucking celestial, not meant for this world. Nobody on this earth deserved you, let alone deserve to see you in the sacred sight he was seeing right now, it was scarce and undeserving.
He wanted to rail the fucking shit out of you so you’d want no one else.
But he knew you’d never want that anyway.
He was yours and you were his.
No one made him feel like this, and no one made you feel like he did. You both made sure of it.
notes: this was slightly rushed as I wanted to get it out on christmas day but i hope you enjoy nontheless! 😩 i tried to squeeze in so many things and make as adorable as could be and i know i’ve probs forgot something, but here you go anyway! 😚 merry christmas lovelies 🎄❤️ thank you for all the love and support this year, can’t wait to write more in 2024 xxx don’t forget to reblog for meee <333
CHRISTMAS WAS ALWAYS AN EXCITING TIME OF YEAR. It’s enjoyable no matter what age you are, even when you stop believing and lose that little magic touch, it’s still a treat giving to those you love and spending time with the ones who mean the most. It was always a magical time of year.
But having kids — having kids changed everything. It meant getting that Christmas magic back.
Having kids meant shopping in toy shops again, school nativity’s, visiting to Santa’s Grotto, believing in Santa again, playing Santa: doing all the old tricks out of the book to convince those little humans there was a sleigh landing on your roof on the 24th of December, driven by a man in a red suit, here to drop off all their presents because of their good behavior, leaving his footprints on the way out.
Since having kids, you’d been reminded of all the things that had once been a part of your childhood which made Christmas all that more exciting when you’re a kid, things you thought you’d never get to relive again - but now you did, and with your own little family.
Driving Home for Christmas hit different for Bog when he got the tube home from work, filming the last days as he finally got to come home and be with the family for the next week or two, his only job to get them excited as possible for Santa coming. “You guys are sick for keeping me here whilst my kids—my children are waiting for Santa!”
It also showed how good a daddy he was, going all out for them in everything he did.
Each year as Penny and Ted got older, the more fun you and Harry had at Christmas time as they fully understood the concept of Christmas more and, to your liking, behaved better the months leading up to it. It absolutely warmed your heart seeing their excitement leading up to the holiday and was enjoyable for you as you felt like you got to relive parts of your childhood through them. You’d do everything in your power to make them feel as excited as you did as a child, and carry on traditions.
Well, maybe not everything.
“This is your fault, you used to be afraid of Santa as a kid, now look what you’ve done, passing it on.”
“No I didn’t!”
“You bloody did.”
The line was long, leading into the small wooden cabin, the place where Santa was sitting, waiting for kids to take a small present as well as their photo with their parents.
The first time you’d visited Santa with the twins, they weren’t even a year old, and my goodness, wasn’t it the cutest photo you’d seen. Oblivious to who Santa Claus even was, they both sat perfectly on his knee, looking towards the lens with the help of a ringing bell, you’d captured the sweetest photo ever of your two babies for their first Christmas. You missed how small they used to be.
Every year they were amazing, always sitting a peace on your and Harry’s knee, creating the cutest family photo for your home, but now they were as fussy as ever, not even five yet but not in the mood to see the man with the white beard. Maybe you’d threatened them too many times that Santa was going to come take all their presents away and leave them with a bag of coal . . .
“You literally did, you used to say the Snowman was bringing your presents,” Harry almost rolled his eyes as he turned to you in the queue, a clingy Penny in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.
You looked at him with your mouth open, having no comeback.
That was your darn mother, outting you with your weird but funny childhood stories.
“Yeah, see!”
“Shut up,” you felt your arm being tugged as your son reached to pet the mechanic reindeer standing by the fence, it’s fur looking so soft even with the fake snow sprinkled on top of it. The whole place was decorated like something you’d never seen before, you couldn’t even remember any of Santa’s Grottos being like this when you were a child, you genuinely felt like you were walking through a forest in the North Pole, awaiting to see the very man and his elves.
“At least someone’s not scared,” you mumbled out the side of your mouth, Teddy trying to pass time quicker by paying attention to all the decoration leading up to it, touching polar bears and feeling the fake snow, you had to keep pulling him away from the frosty-covered trees because he kept bending the branches the most awkwardest direction and getting twigs stuck to his clothes.
After an eventful wait time in the line with Harry’s judging gaze and comments on other parents, you soon found yourself walking into the small hut, your own face as amazed as most kids. “Wow! Look at this place!” You gazed, twisting your head in all directions of the cozy cabin. Filled with lights, cinnamon candles and the most beautiful Christmas tree in the corner, you already didn’t want to leave. There was a fireplace, a rug on the floor with a real-life dog lying down on it and presents stacked around the tree. Oil lamps flickered and Santa sat in the middle against the wall, Mrs Claus next to him, smiling with her hand on his shoulder. “Oh my goodness, Ted! It’s Santa,” you said excitedly, squeezing his hand to reassure him he was fine. You could tell from the way he itched his neck and the back of his head – just like his dad when he felt nervous or awkward.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Hello! Come in, come in,” the friendly man waved you over, Mrs Claus giving you a smile as well, “who might you all be, hm? So I can check my list,” the fake Santa pulled out what looked like the longest scroll of names you’d ever seen, you were convinced he’d actually had every name written down on it.
Impressive.
“Hello, Santa! This is Teddy, and this is Penny,” you cowered a little so you didn’t hit your head as you walked over, feeling Teddy relax more as he seemed to be rushing you over. Harry felt like he couldn't breathe with Penny’s arms choking him.
“Ho! Ho! I have your names right here, on my good list!” Ted had already hopped up on the seat next to him, you had to pick him up and set him on your lap to make room, meanwhile Harry took a seat on the other side of Father Christmas, Penny still wrapped around his neck.
“Penny, it’s alright,” he tried not to laugh, he really did but he couldn't feel himself smiling as he tried to unhook her arms around him. “Look, look at the dog.”
“That’s Santa Paws! He delivers all the toys to all the good dogs!” He called over the big white dog to relax your little girl, and it did a bit of the job as she finally moved her finger from her eyebrow (your nervous tick) and watched the dog Harry was able to stroke.
“And cats?” She came out of her shell a little.
“Yes, and cats. And rabbits, and hamsters, and guinea pigs.”
“And fish?”
“And fish, yes,” he laughed heartily.
Gradually, in the five minutes you were there, your Penny managed to spit out what she wanted whilst Teddy could have spoken for all four of you, excited to get his little toy and pose for the photo. Your baby boy sat on your lap as you all leaned in closely for a photo, but you could see from the corner of your eye Harry pushing Penny’s hand from her face as you all smiled for the photo.
“Are you gonna sit next to Santa with your brother?” Harry mumbled between him and his baby girl. You wanted a picture without you and Harry taking up most of the pic for your house, but you had a feeling things wouldn't go to plan, because when did they ever when you had kids?
He could feel her grip tighten when he tried to peel her from him and set her down, while Ted was already tucked into one side with the dog sniffing his boot. You really wanted Penny to do this but looking at her with that dreadful face, you knew that feeling all too well when you were a kid when you just . . didn’t like Santa. “Do you want Daddy to sit on his lap?” you said, trying to get a laugh out of both, and your pair of mini-me’s did crack them, Penny even releasing a giggle when her daddy turnt to shoot you a look to be quiet. “YES!”
“No, no, no, no,” he smiled, stepping back quickly to grab a picture.
“YES!”
“No, no, Daddy’s too big for Santa’s lap,” Harry’s own kids had him blushing, he had to hide behind you subtly with his hands in his pockets. Your kids were giggling at the idea, either side of Santa, Santa Paws even making the cut as the camera clicked, and just when it was done, Harry was reassured: “no one’s too big for Santa’s lap!”
And that was how you ended up leaving with three different versions of your visit to Santa, a photo you didn’t think other family members would want copied for their fridge or to be photo framed.
You missed the days when they were little baby babies, crawling around everywhere and doing their best to stand, dressed in their red pyjamas, matching with you and and Harry, they had the cutest set of reindeer slippers on their feet to shuffle around with. You could simply not get sick of the sight of those two little tiny humans crawling around your house in those Christmas pjs, dummy’s in mouths, trying to pick at the decorations on the tree. Harry would just watch them, laying on the floor in front of them, watching them pull and pull at a bauble to get it off, but they were just so small, he’d be amused for ages, watching their facial expression change with irritation, unable to tug the decoration from a branch.
“Aw, Harry, just give him it, it’s plastic anyway,” you tried not to laugh at the sassy brows your boy gave, blinking at the cursed tree.
“But it’s funny watching him,” he gushed, laying completely on the floor, his large hand behind his son to prevent a fall.
“You’re such a bully,” you said from the sofa, leaning your head on your hand, the other occupying Penny’s bottle as she drank it without hesitation, eyes glued to the hundreds of lights on your tree, fascinated by it more than the TV ever had.
Babies at Christmas meant snowsuits that had them looking like stars, christmas crafts firsts and little red noses no matter how much you wrapped them up. “Oh my word, how is your nose gonna be cold but your hair,” he peeled off the hat from his boy’s head, “is soaking.”
The boys laughed at the sight of his sweaty hair sticking up messily, looking confused at all the laughter.
It meant building a snowman for them while they watched for the majority . . . and then finishing it on your own when Harry and Uncle Calfreezy would take a baby each and ride a sleigh down a small mountain with them securely between their legs, racing each other for their own fun.
“Watch my baby, Cal—WATCH MY BABY!”
It meant them ripping up rolls of wrapping paper and inspecting every item you needed to wrap presents . . and taking it out of their mouth.
“Ignore the tag, it’s a bit soggy . . and has a bite mark.”
It also meant sticking bows to their heads every chance you got, and if you were Harry, wrapping the whole baby in wrapping paper like you would with a blanket, sticking a dramatic bow to their head. “I did a thing.”
“Are you serious right now! Do you know how much that wrapping paper was?!” You tried to be annoyed, but seeing your man holding out your baby girl wrapped like a burrito in Santa paper with a big red ribbon on her head looking as clueless as ever — you couldn’t. You’d take a photo in fact, before you’d help free her little body, sucking her dummy patiently, unbothered.
It meant them having more fun with the actual wrapping paper and boxes than the toys on Christmas Day.
“You are having a laugh, mate,” Harry watched the £45 toy get tossed to the side while his brother set his nephew in the box he was dearly amused by, laughing the most cutest of giggles as he looked at everyone from in his box.
“It’s always the way,” his mum said, watching how you starred ridiculously while Harry defeatedly rustled his own hair, watching how his daughter wobbly stepped over her Baby Annabelle to pull herself up with the cardboard box her brother sat in, giggling at him, drool slipping from under dummy as she grinned.
“Well, you know what to get them next year,” his dad noted, sipping his morning coffee as he watched his grandchildren.
It meant baking the whole of December, opening advent calendars and trying not to fall whilst carrying them outside in the snow (and laughing at the other parent when they did). It meant writing Christmas cards for their classmates, decorating the house early and dealing with who got to put the star on top of the damn tree. “RIGHT! I’M DOING IT! I’M PUTTING THE STAR ON TOP OF THE TREE!”
You watched Harry take pleasure setting it on the top branch.
School was the best at Christmas time though. They were only P1 so the last weeks of December had hardly any work going into them. Every week, you received all different kinds of arts and crafts you’d undoubtedly keep for the rest of your days - just how your parents did with your creations as a kid.
“Do you—do you like it?”
Penny jumped up and down as you inspected the awfully painted angel, slathered in glitter.
“Yes!” You fake cried, pretending it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Swavorski had nothing on it.
“I made this, and this, and this, and this, but this is for our house and this is for Nana’s house and this is for Granny’s house so it’s fair,” Teddy sorted out the different plastic baubles he’d also drew and painted on. You didn’t know what three of them were supposed to be but you could make out a dinosaur with a Christmas hat on one, so you would claim that one.
“I love them,” you hunched down to smother him and her in kisses, annoyingly. “Thank you soooo much.”
You loved getting to spend mornings with them in class, you and Harry taking every opportunity you could to see what they got up to in class and in truth - enjoyed it way more than any other kid in there.
“Nah, nah, nah, nah! I don’t want glitter, thank you Penny,” Harry lifted away his page he had been carefully colouring in the last ten minutes. You both sat at the small table in the tiny chairs, knees pressed under the desks as you coloured and glitzed drawing of christmas trees, angels and gingerbread men. Penny tried to dump purple glitter over Harry’s golden star but he lifted it from her reach the moment he saw her attempt it. You watched how other parents allowed their kids to add their . . personal touches to their art but come on.
“Penny, stop! Sit down!”
“Add purple!”
“Stars aren’t purple! No!”
“They can be!”
“Penny get your own!” he sassed, unbothered by her strop. Most parents would probably give in but Harry wasn’t ruining his masterpiece. So immature.
“Woah, what do you think you’re doing,” your hand grasped your sons just as his marker was about to colour outside your printed gingerbread man. You plucked the pen from his hands and pulled your page closer.
You loved the oddly-coloured drawings, their angels with their tiny handprints as wings you’d cry over in years to come, or the handwritten Christmas cards in their scribbled handwriting. Your heart warmed when you got a glass reindeer with pink and purple painted hooves or a snowman with a Chelsea hat and scarf painted messily on him, even if they absolutely ruined your aesthetically pleasing Christmas theme. You didn’t mind if glitter fell all down your fridge and floor with Penny’s addiction to glittering everything or Teddy’s love for painting with every colour mixed together so it was usually that ugly maroon-brown.
You’d treasure everything they’d make you and display it with pride, just like Harry did when he prepped them up in the background of his videos, or even brought them along to set so a bit of home was with him.
Nativities were the best though.
You’d dream of the day you got to be the parent sitting in the audience, watching their kid sing and act in the annual Christmas play.
Well . . you and Harry had arrived later than everyone else, hot coffees in hands with flushed cheeks trying to make it in time, undeniably getting judging looks from other parents, but you pretended it was because you were the hottest parents in the room . . and also Harry was still wearing shorts in December.
Showing up was so important and you’d realised that more than ever when your baby boy caught glimpse of you both at the very back of the hall, unable to get a seat, you stood by the doors, his dad’s tall figure grabbing his attention and suddenly, those sicky, nervous butterflies in his belly disappeared and the biggest grin on his face appeared, he broke character and have a wave with his stick. Everyone could tell what happened and melted inside. Your spikey haired boy gave his sister a tap on the shoulder as she stood just in front of him to the left, and pointed to your direction where your babygirl saw her parents, her gorgeous mummy waving subtly but excitedly and her oh most handsome daddy behind her, shooting her a smile and thumbs up, which again, caused her to wave in a downwards direction like an old lady, no longer nervously rubbing her brow while thinking over the one sentence she had to say.
“Definitely your fault,” you muttered out the side of your mouth, still waving at your babies to let them know you’d saw them.
“Deffo your fault, don’t lie,” Harry copied.
“You said to get the coffee?!”
“Love, you had us late before I’d even thought about that coffee,” he glanced to you, still subconsciously waving.
Parents gushed at the two that were clearly the brother and sister in the class, and were taken aback by the couple that was clearly their parents. The very attractive couple: mums crushed on the dad and the dads crushed hard on the mum, but it was the teachers who got to see where the kids not only go their looks from, but their loving personality, especially their humour.
They sang with their heads held high, the songs you’d heard all month long whether it was to practice or because it’d simply been stuck in their head. So many photos were taken, bursting to show off your little girl in her angel role and your wise man boy, you might be biased but they were definitely the cutest kids in the class.
You loved helping them write their Christmas list, the four of you sitting at the table, doing it the old-fashioned way and dropping a toy catalog on the table to help with inspiration.
“Penny you don’t need to write every word in a different colours, love,” Harry muttered with his little girl on his knee, a glitter gel pen in her tiny hand doing more drawings than words on the page.
“Daddy . . . yes I do,” she puffed.
You came up with the idea to keep their first couple lists, knowing it would be nice for them to look back on, and probably laugh at when they saw how much they asked for. “Daddy, yes she does,” you mocked her, looking at your better half like he was stupid.
You also loved how December granted you the best blackmail ever any opportunity they were naughty:
“Give me your hand to cross the road or i’m telling Santa.”
“If you don’t tidy your room, Santa won’t come! He sees everything, remember!
“I’M GONNA TELL SANTA NOT TO BOTHER COMING TO OUR HOUSE IF YOU DON’T STOP!”
Penny’s dramatics continued from the top of the stairs, rolling on the floor with her hand on the stair railings, she had been a bit of a melt the whole time out shopping.
“I’ve heard you say that 5 times this week and it’s Thursday tomorrow.”
“Well I’ve heard you saying it since November, so,” you looked at Harry while your daughter had her moment.
“What’s she even crying over?”
“Because I wouldn’t buy her a toy a week before Christmas!”
“Penny, Santa’s giving all your presents to the other little boys and girls if you don’t get up on the count of three.”
“DAAAAAADDDDYYYYYY” she wailed more, even more upset he wasn’t siding with her.
“I wonder where she gets it from,” you sarcastically squinted your eyes at him, only to receive a loud smack on the back of your ass on your way past with the laundry basket.
“What? A bratty attitude? Definitely her Mummy, are you mad?” he looked at you over his shoulder with a smirk, picking up the dramatic tot from the ground.
You were grateful when it snowed in London because you felt it didn’t feel Christmassy enough until there was frost on the ground. You joined in on every activity they could do: making snow angels, sculpting snowmen and Harry’s favourite - snow ball fights.
It didn’t matter if you were four or forty, bro launched a snowball at his dad the same way he would his son. You quite literally had watched him sniper your four year old with full force, you were convinced he’d forgotten he was almost a 30-year-old man. “ARE YOU THICK?!”
“He’s fine! He’s fine!” He nervously cackled, knowing it was wrong to laugh. He pulled Teddy’s small frame up from the snow under his arms after he’d been knocked off his feet. He was too stunned to shed a tear, kind of impressed by the attack. “You’re fine! You’re fine! Aren’t you?”
Christmas Eve was the main event though, and you probably loved it more than Christmas Day.
When the house was clean and everything was prepped and all you had to do was get everyone ready for bed – getting those little ones all excited on Christmas Eve was your utter favourite.
“—and my Barbie Dream house. And my Barbie camper van. And my new baby. And my new animals! And my vet kit. Oh! And my new bike!” Harry nodded along to his little girl’s rambling as he pulled her shirt from over her head, hair fluffing out as she held onto his forearms while stepping out of her bottoms. You ran the bath while Teddy jumped on your bed excitedly, messing with Penny’s balance as her Daddy helped her get ready for the bath. The reindeer bath bomb fizzed in the water and the candles crackled as you dropped a couple bath toys in.
“Well you better hope you’ve been a good girl to get all those things, don’t you?” Harry perked a brow as he pulled the bows out of her hair.
She nodded.
Harry looked at her, that precious face with soft eyes and long dark lashes, and was unable to keep up this stern act and attacked her in kisses. “You are the best girl, you’re always good. You’re a good girl for Mummy and Daddy, aren’t you? Santa knows you’re a good girl, you’re on the nice list, you’re amazing—” his slight stubble tickled her, that sweet, squeaking laugh melting his insides, he could have crumbled to the floor.
He took her in one arm and Teddy in the other, giving him a set of kisses, carrying both into the bathroom. You’d gotten your shower and cleaned up well for the big man coming, wearing your red tartan pyjamas that matched with the rest of the family. You’d even put a red bow in your hair which your baby girl adored. “MUMMY!” She shrieked, “I LOVE your bow!!!”
“Thank you baby! Guess what I got you!” You picked up the ribbon set behind you with her pile.
She gaped widely, hands on her cheeks, Harry had to kiss the cuteness out of her again.
He slid them down on the ground where you helped Penny step into the bubble bath before helping Ted, not before receiving a subtle hug with his arms around your neck, smiling gushingly at you in your pretty pyjamas. “Mummy you’re beautiful.”
You pouted your lips at him, giving him a loud smooth on his cheek as he played with your soft hair. “Thank you my big boy,” you pinched his chin, “you’ve been so good for Santa this year,” you kissed him again, “now get in that bath.”
You left them in the bath to play for five minutes before you and Harry both came in and sat on the floor, the family routine of you both accompanying the kids in the bath, talking for a bit before cleaning one each. They loved it, especially when you would stick bubbles to each other, or spike Penny’s hair into a long shark fin while Harry soaped and spiked up Teddy’s locks to look like a hedgehog. They’d sit and play and you and Harry would sit and talk, all cramped in the not-so-big bathroom. “—and then we’ll get your pyjamas on and fix your hairs, and then we’ll all get a hot chocolate and watch a movie in the living room and then we’ll have to go up to bed nice and early for Santa coming, or he won’t come if we’re all awake!” You faked distress, leaning on the side of the tub as your little ones were covered in foamy bubbles.
“AND—AND—and the carrots and biscuits for Santa!” Teddy spat out, brown raising as he remembered.
Thank god he’d remembered because you hadn’t.
“Yes! Exactly, we have to set those out too! Now come on!”
“MUMMY MY MOOMIN!” Your daughter suddenly gasped. “WHERE ARE HIS PYJAMAS?!”
Your ears were ringing with her thrill of a voice. “I got Moonin a pair of pyjamas! Calm down!” you lifted the tartan pyjamas you’d nabbed from Build-A-Bear. She loved that bloody, white, hippo thing more than her own brother. Probably.
“Me and mummy already have our pjs on, Moonin’s gonna get his on so you need to get yours on so we can send a photo to Nanny and Granda,” Harry tried to sway them, on the verge of banging his head against a brick wall if his mum texted him one more time to see the kids all ready for Santa coming.
So you got them dressed in their matching tartan pyjamas, braiding Penny’s lovely golden hair in a beautiful loose plait for bed with her ribbon at the end as she observed her Moomin plush in his (bit of a tight fit but hey). Harry was downstairs, making hot chocolate with your baby boy playing his assistant sitting on the counter.
“Powder.”
He grabbed the tin.
“Milk.”
He passed the carton.
“Spoon.”
He handed him the spoon.
Whilst that one was put together, the microwave beeped and he took that one out to replace the other.
“Cream.”
He squirted a mountain of cream.
“Marshmallows.”
He sprinkled the mallows.
“Chocolate sauce.”
He let him squeeze the sauce on top.
“Flake.”
He plopped the mini flake in the side.
“Cheers my lad,” Harry clinked his cup to his son’s as both Lewis boys drank the chocolaty goodness, cream-staches coating their top lip as they hummed in delight.
“WAIT FOR US! WAIT FOR US!” Feet thumped down the stairs as Harry finished making the last two. Whilst he put the stuff together, you for the twins on the sofa with you filled with blankets and their two favourite teddy’s, flicking through the different movies for them to pick one.
“Elf!”
“Grinch!”
“Santa Paws!”
“Grinch!”
“I KNOW! BARBIE CHRISTMAS!”
“No! No one likes Barbie!” Theo hit her leg to sit down.
“I do?!” She shot him a dirty look, holding her Moomin back.
“Hey, hey, hey, I hope there’s no fighting happening on Christmas Eve right now,” you warned, deciding to put on Mickey’s Once upon a Christmas.
“Dad this hot chocolate is so good,” he mumbled, leaning further back into the pillows, this kid couldn’t be anymore chilled if he tried.
“DADDY WHERE’S MINE! IS IT DONE YET?!”
“Penny will you sit down, he’s bringing it now,” you checked your watch for how long it was ‘til you sent them to bed. “Let me get photos for your Nannies and Grandas.”
“And Auntie Rosie and Sophie and Josh!”
“Auntie Josh?” Harry called, getting them to sit in front of the tree with their stuffies.
“Uncle Josh,” they giggled, laughing naturally in your picture.
You all crowded in the living room, your annual family picture in your christmas attire posed and posted, and now you all lay slouched on the couch, hot chocolates in hand as the film played.
“Mummy what do you want for Christmas?”
“Oh I don’t want anything. I just asked for some chocolates and maybe a nice bracelet. Maybe some makeup or a new bottle of my favourite perfume?”
You know, the very perfume that had your boys fighting over who go to snuggle closely into you, it was their favourite smell? “Mummy doesn’t really want anything, I’ll be happy if I get my chocolates. I’m more excited to see what you both get!” you tickled her foot, trying to get her excited again.
Ted leaned on his father, seeing his phone, “Dad, can you check the Santa Tracker again?”
Harry, who laid across the entire sofa, his two mini-me’s behind him but hanging over him somehow, licked their lips anticipatedly as he took out his phone again to get up the map.
He gasped. “. . . HE’S IN FINLAND RIGHT NOW!”
They covered their mouths, Teddy’s hands on his father’s head as he pushed further to see the screen, “where’s that! What’s—what’s that mean!”
“It means he’s gonna be here in . . six hours.”
“Oh my word, we have to get to bed soon!” You said.
The sooner they got to bed, the sooner you got to set their things up and build everything that needed to be built — and god knew how long that took you and Harry to do.
“I don’t wanna go to bed, yet.”
“Now Penny, do you want Santa to bring you a lump of coal instead of all your Barbies?”
“Nooo!” She whined.
“‘Cause he will,” Harry threatened from below them, looking at his phone.
“Your Daddy got a sack of coal one year because he was a very bad boy and didn’t get to bed so Santa skipped his house,” you made up on the spot, intrigued to see what your man came up with under pressure.
He looked at you bewildered, the kids looking between you both, mouths agape and brows raised; never have heard this story before.
“Dad what did you do?”
“I . . I was a very bad boy to your Nanny and Granda. I . .” he looked at you as he spoke, seeing you try not to laugh as you sipped from your champagne glass, “I . .”
“He kicked a football at your Nan’s face and all.”
They were stunned at your exposing of their father.
“Yep. And wrecked their house and never went to bed.”
“Yep, ‘cause I was just a bad, bad boy. I was screaming all the time and threw my controllers at their walls and never wanted to go to bed,” they listened attentively, growing nervous when they heard him say the things they knew they’d done before. “—I cried in the shop when she didn’t get me a–a toy I wanted—”
“Mhmn,” you nodded along.
Harry looked at you judgementally, not liking how he was getting all the criticism. “Your Mummy was on the naughty list before too.”
“WHA—”
“MUMMY?!” Their heads shot to you.
“Oh yeah, you’re mummy was a very bad girl,” his brow perked up, “I think your mummy should be on the naughty list this year too, in fact.”
“NO! No mummy’s been good girl this year?” your baby girl defended you.
“No, your mummy’s naughty,” he shrugged a shoulder, focusing on his drink, “she loves shouting at daddy and telling him what to do.”
Now the kids knew you were messing as they both looked between you both with amused faces and wife grins, watching you bicker for the fun of it.
“Daddy loves bossing Mummy about and telling her what to do?!” You corrected.
“Mummy bullies Daddy.”
“DADDY HIT MUMMY IN THE EYE WITH AN ICE BALL AND LEFT HER IN THE SNOW?!”
“Mummy made Daddy late for work a hundred times this year,” he nodded.
“Right! Right! Ok, ok, that’s enough, i’m going to bed so I can see if I have been on the good list or bad list,” you stood up, influencing them to follow.
“Wait! The cookies and carrots!”
“—and reindeer food!”
Oh yeah. You prepped the plate of a few biscuits as well as carrots, followed by a glass of milk before sprinkling the ‘reindeer food’ outside your front door for the two to see before chasing them up the stairs. “There, now go.”
Penny gasped. “MY MOOMIN!!!”
Harry’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head as he trailed back downstairs to get the hippo-thing and brought it back up as the kids brushed their teeth and climbed into bed. You allowed them to stay in your double bed with a movie playing until they fell asleep, and then you would slip them into their own rooms. “Now close your eyes.”
“But we’re—” they yawned, “not even tired.”
“Come on, you need to sleep! Daddy and I will be up shortly and you better have your eyes closed,” you urged.
“Get to sleep fast and when you wake up, Santa will have been with all your presents,” Harry whispered between them, leaning his upper half on the bed while too tidied behind them, lifting their slippers and dressing gowns to throw over the your armchair.
“Oh my goodness,” you heard a sweet voice squeak in excitement at the realisation.
“Ok I’m sleeping now,” Ted tuned on his side with the duvet pulled all the way up to his chin, pretending to sleep already with the biggest grin on his face.
Harry laughed at them, leaning over to kiss both of them goodnight, “i’m serious, get to sleep or Santa won’t come, ok?” He kissed Ted then Pen, “love you both with my wholeeeee heart,” he slightly dropped his bodyweight on them in a group cuddle that made them laugh. You smiled from your spot, and took his place to kiss them both yourself with a small stroke do their hair. “Love you. Get to sleep.”
“Love you Mum, love you Dad.”
You both crept out of the room, lights off and TV dimmed low and quiet, stealing a final look at the two.
You lied and said you would be up in a minute after doing the dishes and turning everything off . . . when really a bottle of Baileys had been calling your name since you’d bought it last week. “Crank that baby open.”
Harry poured your drinks while you began bringing down all the toys from the guest bedroom’s wardrobe, being as quiet as could be. “Here’s your Baileys, my darling.”
“That’s a milkshake, hun,” you chuckled, taking the glass.
“You need a milkshake, hun,” he laughed, setting down you a glass of wine also, “neck that back too, you crazy bitch.”
“Are you tryna get me hungover for Christmas?” You looked at him, pressing play on your film.
“Course not!” He smirked, leaning down to steal a kiss.
You and Harry chilled with each other for a while before doing anything. Love Actually played and halfway through, you’d accidentally emptied the bottle of wine and had almost finished the bottle of Baileys between you both, which was a bad, bad move as you’d forgotten you still had to lay out all the presents, but it was just so nice and it had been so long . . .
Harry had already checked on the twins when he’d gone to the toilet and both were already out cold, moved into their own rooms, tucked into their own beds before coming back down to you to get a move on.
“Harry . . we need to do this,” you swirled your drink in the glass as his hand proceeded to rub up and down your leg, making you want to fall asleep on the sofa even more. “Come on, come on,” you tried to push yourself off.
Harry slid down in the space you lay, the blanket falling to the floor as you steadied yourself, forgetting what you were about to do.
“. . Harry . . I’m not gonna lie to you,” you swayed, “I think I’m a bit drunk right now,” you stood up sluggishly, trying not to laugh.
Harry was laughing into himself, arm thrown over his face as he felt that similar buzz shooting through him too. “Shit.”
Do you know how hard it is for two adults trying to lay presents out in the most quietest way possible? Can go imagine two drunk adults trying to do that?!
“Oh my god,” your eyes were so fucking blurry, you were getting aggravated you couldn’t see so clear. Harry had almost finished filling the other sofa with one twin’s presents while you were still cutting tags off and ripping prices from the other’s.
It was hilarious though, the buzz making it that bit funnier. I suppose some things will just never change.
“You better have the tags off,” you looked over your shoulder at him, and when he looked back at you with heavy eyes, absolutely peppered, you began to laugh, and he began to laugh back, notifying you that he had not in fact, been doing such.
This was why you were both having a laughing fit at 10 at night, sprawling your kids’ presents out.
After clearing the floor and everything was propped up on display, you stared for a little too long, feeling like things were complete a little too perfectly. A little too smoothly, but you turned off the lights and began to head upstairs, not understanding why you’d left a tool kit at the top of the stairs.
But then, in a harsh whisper—
“OH MY GOD HARRY! THE FUCKING BIKES AND KITCHEN!”
Trailing back downstairs, you jumped straight into it.
Finishing the bottle off wasn’t probably the best idea but it gave you both something to do whilst building said toys at 10 o’clock at night.
“This fucking . . bastard screw . . I’m going to end it all right now,” your other half rambled across from you on the living room floor, struggling as it was to put a bike together sober, he was doing his best to do it whilst tipsy.
You’d been taking laughing fits between you both all night, laughing giddily into yourselves as you put together the toys for your two little angels sleeping upstairs, knowing the other was as useless as the other. It was the most frustrating thing trying to follow those diagram booklets with what felt like 100 pages, but being together, not having a clue — it was the most wholesome and funny experience as a couple.
But my god, did you realise you two could not build for shit.
“Fuck me, I’ve put another pedal on upside down.”
“Shhh,” you tried not to laugh as he dropped his head to his hands, needing to be quiet and concentrate as you tried screwing the same screw into the wooden plank for the last 10 minutes. You’d screwed it wonkily five times.
“Sick to fucking death building bikes— where’s my phone? I’ve had enough, where’s my dad when you need him? Give-give-give me my phone right now,” the sassiness dropped out of him as he rang the number on his phone.
You proceeded to laugh silently as a FaceTime call took place and over the next half hour, your father-in-law explaining parts and instructions to his son who was already looking rough and sleep-deprived.
Harry got frustrated, his dad got frustrated, parts were lost, tools were dropped but you laughed, and he laughed, because no matter what you did, you always ended up laughing together over the stupidest stuff, even when it wasn’t funny.
“On my life, the–the grandparents can build the stuff next year, never again,” he stood with his hands on his hips, taking a breather.
It was just so funny, especially with his messy hair and santa hat on, as well as pyjamas bottoms, changed into a black t-shirt as he’d gotten too warm with the button top.
You met eyes after a concentrating silence would take place and burst out laughing, the sight of the other twisting a bolt in right or passionately screwing something into another piece - being all serious when you knew they couldn’t see properly - it caught you off guard and you had to laugh — or you’d probably cry!
FaceTime calls with the boys were also made, Calfreezy taking the absolute piss out of his best friend and sharing a breakdown with Behzinga over building things for their little girls. “I’m never having kids.”
“Too late for that mate.”
But eventually, you both got there. “Oh my god, I’m never building anything in my fucking life again,” an hour passed as Harry let out a loud sigh as he sprawled out on the floor, letting go of the wrench.
You’d given up ten times trying to construct Penny’s play kitchen but alas, here you were, almost done with a pretty pink kitchen all screwed into place, decoration just needing laid out and stickers stuck on. It was so cute and you knew she’d love it.
Harry ran his fingers through his hair, the drink pumping in his veins, he was hot and bothered and overwhelmed after putting together two bikes and a dollhouse the last 3 hours, you couldn't blame him, you were tired too.
“Get this stuck on so I can get to bed,” you groaned, hands shaking as you stuck fake shelves to the back piece.
You had never been prouder of something as you sat and inspected the constructed artwork. You fell to the floor on top of your man with an empty glass, holding his head under your arm as you let out a breath.
“I’d pay someone to lift this cardboard for us right now.”
You couldn’t have agreed more, wanting to shred the polystyrene.
“And . .” Harry stood next to you after another twenty minutes passed, “done.”
1:38AM.
The toys were built and games were laid out: your living room looked like Santa’s workshop with the amount of gifts it took up. Penny’s boxes of Barbie’s were lined next to each other as well as her Dreamhouse that Harry had to build. It stood out in the middle, surrounded by different animal plushies, beauty sets and princess attire. Teddy’s boxes of dinosaurs filled the other sofa along with nerf guns, football equipment, lego and superhero bundles. You didn’t even remember buying half the stuff you did upon laying it out. “When the fuck did we buy this?”
You leaned into Harry’s arm, laughing tiredly, not up for a debate.
You set each other’s gifts out as well, a smack on your bum rewarded when you tried to peak in the bags your baby-daddy had got you.
“What you doing?” His lazy eyes looked at you.
“Nothin,” you bit your lip, rubbing your ass. Worth a shot.
Trailing back upstairs (slouched on the wall) you could feel your head already pulsing and you whined, taking a second to collect yourself on the steps. “Harry get me water.”
You lay on the bed when he returned and downed the pint in an instant, not chancing even a small headache in the morning when your house would be chaos. “I feel like we’re forgetting something.”
“I can’t believe we drank our drink for tomorrow,” he sat with his hand on his mouth.
“We need to do something.”
“That wine was fucking lovely.”
“Harry I’m being serious.”
“Me too.”
You gave up, switching off the light. “Yeah it was nice. I can’t believe I was drunk after like, the first glass.”
“We’re not like we used to be, darlin’, that’s why,” he laughed, falling back ‘til his head was by your side. Your head was in your hand as you definitely tried to remember something, but your head was empty and your room was silent, so you climbed into bed, slipping one leg under the duvet before he smacked his head.
“Oh my fucking god, the carrots.”
You brushed the reindeer door at the front door away to make it seem like it’d been eaten while Harry sprinkled flour on your floors before stepping on top of it in a heavy pair of black boots, creating footprints throughout your house. You gulped another glass of water at the bottom of the stairs as he did, waiting on him.
“There.”
You got to the top of the stairs, opened your bedroom door and then facepalmed again, dropping him in his tracks.
“What?! What?!”
“We didn’t even eat the bloody carrots, come on!” you trotted back down again.
You didn’t even want to bite into the biscuits, your stomach turned.
“You eat the carrot.”
“You eat the carrot! I ate it last year!”
“You like carrots! I can’t!”
“You do one, I’ll do one,” Harry stared across from you as you both stood a solid bite out the two carrots you left out, doing your best to make it look like a reindeer had taken a chomp out of it.
Your face squirmed as it crunched in your mouth, spitting it into a bowl, Harry laughed at you. “Urgh.”
Harry chugged the milk and you both left the best bite marks you could in the cookies, leaving small crumbs on the plate for the kids to inspect. Satisfied with your jobs, you finally went upstairs, leaving the house as you’d envisioned, you both jumped into bed and cuddled closely, excited for a crazy day ahead.
“. . I feel soooo sick, rub my back.”
‘Cause carrots and milk and wine are swirling about in your stomac—”
“DON’T, I'LL BE SICK.”
The combination had you holding your mouth closed just in case. “Don’t even think about pouring me a drink tomorrow.”
“We have to! My Mums taking the kids, remember! We have to!” He fiddled with the bow in your hair.
Tomorrow you’d visit your parents and Harry’s parents and give all their presents. The twins would open their gifts from them, dressed in their adorable sweaters and Santa hats, eating delicious christmas dinner with plenty of gravy around the table. “I won!!!” they’d scream when pulling crackers their Uncle Josh so clearly let them win, and happily smiled for pictures with their Aunt Rosie with their paper crowns on their heads. They never wanted to leave their grandparents so you’d nodded eagerly when his Mum offered to keep them.
“I’m not doing it, Harry,” you tried not to smile, knowing it’d encourage him.
“I beg to differ,” his arm was wrapped around your head, his thumb stroking your warm cheek. He began to think about tomorrow himself. “. . I can’t wait to see their faces tomorrow.”
Harry was ready for them bursting through the door, jumping in the bed to wake you up so you could all go downstairs. Harry loved getting them all hyper and excited, gasping and screaming, he fuelled their energy as he acted as amazed as they did.
Pointing out the eaten biscuits and footprints left across your carpet, they were ecstatic before even entering the living room. “Oh my DAYS!” He’d gawk, carrying them down the stairs before opening the door together.
Penny would squeal and freeze, taking it all in while Teddy would have to be pushed inside because he would be so stunned with disbelief.
“WOW!”
“You guys must have been so good!”
“Look what Santa brought you guys!!!”
Penny would give you a fashion show with her new dress-up clothes and Ted and Harry would be preoccupied with his toys for the next hour, excited to get a go of his stuff. “Oi this is sick, isn’t it Ted!”
They’d FaceTime their aunts and uncles to show them all what Santa had left them and ask to see what they had got, “Auntie Talia! Auntie Talia! Look! Look! Look!”
“Oh my goodness! You must have been so good!”
“Uncle Tobi thank you so much for Moomin’s new pyjamas, he loves them.”
“Uncle Vik, I got a DJ set just like you! Look!”
“No way! You’ll have to come over so we can make some banger’s together!”
“They are all so right, you two were absolutely spoiled this year,” you nodded, clearing the last of the rubbish.
“Oh thank you Santa!” They’d express, so so thankful for all their presents as they’d squeeze their toys close to them. It made your heart tender.
Sometimes though, you were able to sus out what presents you’d regret buying before it was lunchtime:
“If someone shoots me with another pellet, I’m ruining Christmas for everyone.”
Harry would be playing Barbies and you’d be putting batteries in everything. “Oh my Moomin! Your clothes!” Your tea would be cold with a nerf pellet in it as you’d dress Moomin in his third outfit of the day, watching your daughter smile at him in his new clothes like he was her pride and joy. He was her pride and joy. “OW!” You’d feel a toy car crash into your ankle or a bullet hit your bum, and you’d throw balls of wrapping paper on your two torturous boys.
You’d get your go once the two were occupied with something and you’d get all blushy opening your beautiful gifts, sitting on his lap, giving kisses, you’d hug him for being the best boy to you and your little family. “Spoiled as always,” you’d peck his face repeatedly, gripping the box of expensive jewelerry in your hand as his finger twirled around your hair.
Harry would soak up the love, just as spoiled back with all the things you got him, from shoes to golfing accessories to flights abroad or some whacky gadget he’d use all the time, he felt very lucky, but lucky enough to be sitting amongst his perfect little family who loved him as much as he loved them. “I am spoiled just as much,” he lay his head on top of yours, “and I can’t wait to use this,” he waved the plane ticket for two for a week-long break to your favourite sunny island.
“I love you, so, so much,” you cuddled into his chest, not wanting to get too smush but you were really overwhelmed with love for your little clan. You couldn't imagine doing it all with anybody else.
“I love you too, carrot breath.” He kissed the top of your head, pulling you close as you both watched your two little ducks sit with the biggest smiles on their faces, playing ‘til their hearts content.
summary: you give birth to your babies. [8k words.]
pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)
notes: woooo!! bb bogs have finally made their debut!! can you guess their names? 😝 i might change them, but for now take a guess! absolutely adored writing this, i hope you can all see my vizion! let me know if you enjoyed! 😌🫶🏼 baby bogs are released, ready for more fic planning! 🤪 but also taking a breather from posting - i want to build up my drafts again! 😌 don’t forget to reblog! <333
“HARRY, GET ANOTHER SONG ON, I need to feel like I'm at a rave.”
Your back was pressed to endless clouds of pillows, feet propped up on the hospital bed and your bump strapped with wires.
You’d been in here almost 12 hours, since the early hours of this morning, when arriving yesterday afternoon concerned and then sent home when told they could do nothing, and then back again at 3:00AM when you’d woken up to the feeling of your waters breaking. You were back in the labor unit.
Nothing big seemed to have happened since, the very odd sharp pain shooting in your abdomen, you must have been dilated at least a couple centimetres, but nothing extreme that meant you could start pushing. So they kept you there, concerned enough to be keeping a close eye on you with having two babies, and medicate you through the pain.
It was now approaching 3:00 and you were just fed up. You’d done nothing but lay in the bed all day. Why couldn’t you have done that in your own room back home? You tried to walk about every so often but it got harder and harder each time which you took to be a good sign. A doctor had took a look at you and told you that within 24 hours of your waters breaking - you should have your babies in your arms - and since then, it had been 12. So, to say you were freaking out knowing you would have babies in your arms this time tomorrow (hoping all goes well!) it was a scary fucking fact.
Which is why your mother-in-law was convinced you were both being delusional as there was no way a set of parents-to-be were so chilled in the ward, reminiscing on your past festivals and parties, playing the songs through the TV, instead of discussing the biggest fucking elephant in the room.
“THERE WAS A T–IIIIIME . . I used to look into my father’s eyes,” the two of you harmonised, Harry playing DJ on his feet all morning while you sang through clenched eyes, ignoring the pain you were in. His mum couldn’t believe the sight of you, singing to each other as if you were partying right now, drunk off your tits and loved up - but no, just pretending like you weren’t about to pop out her first set of grandkids.
She knew the maturity kicked in when the babies were born, but Jesus, she didn’t mean the very second, at least a little beforehand.
What made it worse? The fact her son had supplied you both with sunglasses - you were wearing rectangle-framed shades in a hospital gown.
“—UP ON THE HILL ACROSS THE BLUE LAKEEE, that’s where I had my first heartbreak! I still remember how it all CHAAANGED me!—”
“You two seriously send my blood through the roof,” she watched you play the role of a DJ in his booth, your hand moments encouraging Harry to pull out the moves. “Be quiet!”
“Next song,” you waved on.
Harry did as you said - he was doing anything you wanted at this point, if it kept you happy. Anything else sent you into a flight of rage. The moment you heard the first second of a song that shot you back in time to a time you were dancing sinfully drunk, throwing your organs up the morning after, you immediately cursed, “GET IT OFF.”
It put you in a mood so quickly! You could not ruin the mood.
You were on such a smooth path at the minute, you couldn’t have the bubble burst. When a good song played, you felt at ease.
“Next.”
“Next.”
“Next.”
Harry grew nervous, flicking through the different tunes.
He’d been there since this morning, accompanying you when you’d told him to go home as there was no point in him sitting uncomfortably in a chair when the bed was at home. He complied, and he’d gone to a Sidemen meeting as well, as you’d yelled down the phone that you didn’t need him because nothing was happening, and even then, he had sent you the cutest message that had you sobbing for an hour:
He felt bad being at home and uncomfortable without you being in his presence, but you’d reassured him you were fine. In saying that, you were pretty sure neither you had slept as you’d texted the whole night. His mum kept you company when he wasn’t there, but now he was back, and doing her head in.
But he was making you laugh.
“Oh my God!” The tunes just brought you back to a specific time in your life, feeling like each one was just yesterday. “I might be, anyone. A lone fool, out in the sun—”
You immediately felt like a teenager again, fresh in your twenties, surrounded by all your friends, your favourite boy who was still by your side, screaming those lyrics and getting as off your head as you wanted. You didn’t have parents to shy from, you had your own home, your own rules. You were a grown up.
Not grown up enough, though, it suddenly felt like, the reality kicking in again, you were about to be someone’s parent.
Christ. You were gonna have a set of twins who would lie just as you did about all the times you went out, getting shit-faced in a field. Fucking hell, wasn’t it karma at its finest?
“WAAAIITING FOR THE FIRE TO LIIIGHT!—”
“Next song.”
“You guys are being too loud. Harry, sit down would you?”
“I can’t,” he shrieked, the nerves automatically getting the best of him if he tried to sit still. He had to occupy himself.
His Mum was playing substitute for your Mum — you were happy enough to have either of them in the room — but your Mum was currently on holiday - drunk on cocktails, living her best life with your Dad before they were crowned grandparents — and boy oh boy, was she excited. Excited for the karma you were about to get with your very own mini-me. She was ecstatic.
You were to blame realistically— you’d told her to go ahead and go on the holiday, that you didn’t think you were likely to go into labor while she was away.
Secretly though, she was more than willing to let Harry’s Mum deal with you in labour. She could (no offense) imagine anything worse.
“Are you still set on that name?”
You and Harry met eyes, lips moving both humorously but irritably as he lowered the song.
You adored his Mum. You loved everything about her. You more than often took her side in an argument against her son, and couldn’t count with both hands you’d spent time together as a pair: monster-in-law didn’t exist to you — you took this woman’s word for everything. You didn’t need to go into detail: she meant a lot to you and whether your own mum knew it or not — you seeked more comfort in her than your own.
This woman would defend you ‘til her last breath; had your back in anything and everything.
Except now.
She, for probably the first time in your life since knowing her, disagreed with you on a topic:
Baby names.
But you were close enough for her to be able to tell you how she felt about the name, which just proved how close-knit you both were.
“Mum, she likes it—” Harry immediately jumped to stop his Mum from angering upsetting you.
“—I know! I know, but I mean,” the name you had picked was lovely, very sweet and not as heard of as much anymore — but she just couldn’t get past the obvious. “I just — I don’t like them, that’s all I’ll think about: a handful of dirty p—”
Your head hit the pillow as she forced herself to stop talking. You really liked the name and you did not want her putting you off it. “Please change the song,” you checked the time, knowing a nurse was due to come in and check you again.
“The boy name is cute, I like it,” she tried to butter you up.
“Just remind me of Baker—”
“IT’S NOT THE SAME NAME, it would be Te—” you held a hand up to stop him having this same recurring argument. To not explain yourself again.
“. . but it kinda is. Y/n—”“
Where is my nurse?! “I swear to God,” you interrupted Harry in his explanation as to why he wasn’t sure about your boy name. Why?! Why can’t everyone just wait and see that the names you had circled were going to fit the two causing unbelievable discomfort in your womb right now! And you know what?! If they don’t — better still: back up names it is! Everyone’s happy!
You didn’t need to hear the beeps to sense your blood pressure was rising.
And then you heard it - the angelic opening: Levels came on.
Your heart monitor spiked up along with a sudden wave of deja vu. “Oh — NO don’t! I’m gonna cry.” You hid your face, your arms getting the same goosebumps every time you heard the start of the song, just like the first time.
“Oh my God. Can we name our boy Avicii?”
“Nah ‘cause I can’t find a reason for saying no,” you waved him off endearingly, both looking for some apprehensiveness to the idea. “I love that.”
“OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, you’re not calling your firstborn Avicii!”
Harry tutted towards his Mum, spoiling your fun in this stressful moment. “Whoever comes out first gets the name!” He spoke against your stomach, beard tickling your skin despite the inexplicable discomfort occurring around it. He turned it up and the two of you continued your dancing – arm movements from you considering you were strapped to the bed, wires and all sorts connected to help monitor any contractions. And also - you seemed to feel more and more tired.
“We could make it a middle name?”
You shrugged nonchalantly.
“NO. ARE YOU BOTH WISE? NO. GROW UP. STOP MESSING ABOUT.”
You forced a concealed chuckle, seeing his Mum get worked up in the corner with her magazine more than you - who was literally in the process of giving birth.
“Oh my God. We’re so old,” you lay your head against the pillow, realizing it was going to be a long time until your next festival.
His Mum was sending videos into the family chat once asked ‘how’s y/n?’ from Rosie or ‘what’s happening now?’ from Harry’s dad, looking an update on where you were with labor, expecting the pair of you to be sitting there biting your nails, sweating it out, riddled with nerves. They most definitely didn’t expect the two of you to be blasting your Tomorrowland playlists, and yet, it was the most Y/n & Harry thing ever.
Realistically, you both know you were only trying to take your mind off the obvious, and calm your nerves by messing about.
You were obviously shitting bricks, waiting for a nurse to come in and get you started.
Harry noticed your sudden lack of attitude and turned off the music and came to your side. He was nervous as it was but when he seen you look nervous and uncomfortable — it threw him even more off. Made him panic more than anything else.
“Are you okay?” His hand nervously grabbed yours.
You could feel those sharp pains coming back again, causing you to squirm and shift in the bed with discomfort. You lifted the sunglasses on top of your head and clenched your jaw, eyes squeezed shut as another wracked right through you, provoking a loud wince from your lips. “OW! No,” he’d grabbed your hand at the right time ‘cause you were now gripping it for dear life, cramping it in seconds and inflicking your pain onto him.
He knew it wasn’t probably the right time to finally realise it . . but he felt so bad.
Look what he’d done to you.
“Oh my God,” you groaned, trying to find a steady pace of breath.
No. No it couldn't be time. You weren’t ready!
“What? What? What? What?! What?!!” Harry’s head was back to you back to his Mum, back to you, to his Mum when she stood up from her chair and calmed him, “shh! It’s alright! It’s just her contractions!” She took your other hand while the other pressed the button that called for the nurse, “Y/n, are you okay, darling? Shall I get the nurse?” She pulled your hair away from your face, the sight of you bringing back memories she knew all too well herself.
“Oh my God, this isn’t happening,” you moaned, curving your back as another one shot through you.
You know like when you’re on a rollercoaster? And you’re all excited until they strap you in and you suddenly want to get off? This was you wanting to get off.
You changed your mind. “No, no, no, no, no—”
“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry!” your boyfriends guilty voice brought you back to reality as he squeezed you hand reassuringly.
You hated him so much right now.
Your back jolted again, a cry bursting through you.
“Oh my, Y/n, i’m going to find a nurse, just relax okay? I know it’s hard but you’re going to be ok, okay?” Your mother-in-law kissed your slightly sweaty head and squeezed your hand before leaving the room, giving off about what the point was having a buzzer if they weren’t going to come at the sound of it.
“Are you okay?”
“NO HARRY!”
Harry flinched out of his fucking skin at your monstrous tone, scaring the absolute shit out of him.
Oh no, here it was, what everyone had warned him about — the part where your Mrs becomes possessed.
You covered your eyes with your fingers, trying to keep the tears at bay. You were so scared right now. You weren’t ready. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t do this twice.
But you were not telling Harry that.
From the moment you’d found out you were having two, and researched how common and natural it surprisingly was, you were on board with the idea of naturally birthing both babies out. So long as the placenta(s) weren’t blocking the way for them to get out - it was all good for you to try! Harry on the other hand was praying the placenta got in the way. That something prevented you from doing this — he was team c-section, he felt more content if you got one. He just had it in his head that something was going to go wrong and you were going to die. He just didn’t feel safe, and didn’t want to take the risk. You’d gotten doctors to tell him endlessly that they could interfere anytime and get the other one out if needs be but Harry was putting his foot down. Why the hassle? No, he told you.
Obviously you wore the pants so what you said, went, and here you were.
But oh God, maybe you were about to rewrite your delivery plan.
“Hey, hey!” he shook your hand to pull you out of your head, “it’s ok. You’re gonna be alright, I’m right here.”
Your heart clenched as he crouched down, not letting go of your hand. “I know,” you wanted to smile, tears forming in your eyes at him. “I’m just so scared.”
“That’s ok! We’re both scared! You’re okay! You’re gonna be fine, Y/n, you were made for this. It’s all going to be fine! You can do it!”
You inwardly whined, heart fluttering at his words — they meant so much because you knew he was freaking out more than you right now and yet, was pushing it aside to help you.
You loved him so much.
“Come on, you can’t cry, you’re ready, you were literally made for this, your body is literally,” he nodded, unable to complete what he was saying just a ‘ykwim’ nod, he made you laugh. He stood up to place a kiss on your cheek and you just wanted to hug him. You wanted him to hold you.
Do the work for you really.
“Oh my God,” you groaned, arm tensing around his neck as you felt the sob from within you. What the fuck were these contractions deal?
His Mum came in with a nurse who quickly told you how you were 8cm dilated and that everyone would begin prepping.
You didn’t know why, but seeing Harry stand there at the end of the bed, biting his nails, squirming uncomfortably at the sight beneath your hospital gown — it angered you.
What was your problem?!
Why the fuck was he standing like that? And looking at you like that?! Why’d he look like that?! You could feel the aggression burning along your limbs, triggering your chest to heavily rise and fall. Say your sweet words and then what?! What do you do now?! Nothing! You’ve done all the hard work getting it in me, now I have to carry them and get them out?! And two of them?! For the price of what?! For the price of your pleasurable 4-minutes?!! If even?!!!!!
They changed the position of your bed and moved everything out of the way, bringing in the table of tools and surrounded you around the bed. The pain didn’t stop. Harry was to your left and his Mum to your right, but her hands were occupied at her lips, finally in shock as she watched everything while Harry held onto your hand.
“Oh my God, I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this, please,” you cried, your hair rustling further into the pillow as you felt your arms shake with nerves. “Please, fucking inject me with the fucking . . morphine or heroin or whatever it is!!!”
“Y/n,” Harry said, both at your wording and little aggression towards the doctors.
Your clenched eyes and pained face suddenly relaxed as you slowly peeled your eyes to the left, and Harry’s mother hid the laugh in her throat as she looked away, sensing what was coming.
“WHAT?!” You screamed at him.
“We might be too late to give you an epidural, you’re almost—”
“GIVE ME THE FUCKING EPIDURAL!!!” You screamed at the midwife, clinging to the hands holding you.
Harry was so embarrassed but he knew this was . . somewhat normal. Normal for you. You knew this wasn’t you but you knew they’d understand. It wasn’t personal.
You did get the needle and suddenly — it was like you’d ate a bag of shrooms. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry, mama!”
Trust. They’d dealt with worse.
“Almost there,” his Mum rubbed your hand excitedly. Almost 10cm and you could start.
You were panting through the contractions, feeling your heart leap through your chest, you clawed for the gas and air supply, wishing it was laced with some heavy fucking CBD. It was torturous- you just wanted to start fucking pushing.
“Oh dear,” you whined, your nails digging into the back of your boyfriend’s hand. Time felt so slow yet so chaotic at the same time. Your lower-half felt like it was on fire, the most uncomfortable, unexplainable pain occurring.
He gently pulled his hand back, you were hurting him. “Ow, Y/n.”
“Ow? OW?!” You looked at him, “OH SORRY! DID I FUCKING HURT YOU?! WAS THAT SORE? OH SORRY. NO, LET ME APOLOGIZE, UNLIKE YOU, WHO—” there it was, you knew — you knew it, you knew that was the last one, you were finally 10cm. “OH FUCK!” You got the feeling - the natural urge to push. Your body felt like it was lit on fire, and you exploded. “FUCK YOU HARRY. FUCK YOU. YOU FUCKING PRICK. LOOK WHAT YOU FUCKING DID, YOU FUCKING — YOU WILL NEVER,” you took a deep breath, pushing to your best as the worst pain rocked through you, “YOULLNEVERHAVEITINMEAGAIN—” the scream that left you would have one you an oscar in a horror film. You inhaled the biggest breath, “I CAN’T DO THIS!”
“You’re doing great, Y/n! Just push! Just keep pushing, honey! They’re coming!”
They’re. Two. You had two to get through.
Well that just made you claw at your eyes. “I don’t want to push anymore! I changed my mind!”
“No! You’re acing it! Come on!”
You were gripping onto Harry’s hoodie, stretching it and pulling at it, feeling your legs shake and sweat drip down your forehead - you had never wanted something to be over so fast. How did you even push? Were you pushing right now?
“You’re okay, Y/n, you’re doing fine. Take another deep breath and give me another big push. When you’re ready,” your midwife talked you through, dressed from top to bottom in scrubs with a mask and gloves on.
You tried, you really did, but it was so hard. You were already so tired and one wasn’t even out. You didn’t even know if they’d moved.
Harry kissed your head repeatedly, nerved to his core seeing you in such a state, he would have paid anything to take the pain away. He hated it. He could barely stand it. He could hardly hold his eyes open.
You pushed and pushed for ages, struggling and breathless, afraid you were getting nowhere until you heard them - the golden words. “I can see a head!”
Your midwife pulled Harry down by the end of the bed to see and before you could open your eyes to watch his reaction - a thump sounded in the room.
There was no way.
“OH, MY GOD!”
Your mouth was open seeing your little love on the floor; hitting the deck before anyone could’ve even reached to catch him, he went down like a tonne of bricks.
“Oh my God! HARRY!” His Mum let go of your hand and dragged him to his feet with the help of another doctor, struggling with the size of him.
And you know what you realised? You really fucking loved that boy because suddenly the worry of getting your kids out was suddenly directed on if your man was going to slump it again. You were practically ripping open and now you were riddled with concern, wondering if he was okay.
Were you delusional?!
“Is he alright?! Are you alright?!” Your heart rate spiked again.
“Y/n keep pushing!“
“Is he okay?!”
Your brows squirmed in distress trying to spot him, seeing him move, coming back to life. For fuck’s sake, Harry.
He was slumped against the wall, an eye opening at a time as he came back to earth, reaching for the back of his head.
You let out a sigh of relief, letting your head hit your pillow. “ . . are you serious?!”
He rubbed his head while he looked at you, but his Mum yanked his head.
“HARRY! DON’T LOOK AGAIN!”
But he managed. Managed to look again and watch as you gave the hardest push of your life with the most painful cry - your firstborn sliding out with everything still attached; coated in blood — and he fainted again.
Could you believe it.
Went crashing to the floor.
You couldn’t believe you were crying and laughing at the same time during labour, being in the most extruseaging pain you’d probably experience in your whole life - simply because he could not hack it.
He’d always make you laugh at the worst times.
But by the time the second one came — just minutes after and slightly easier – he was awake and sitting, experiencing it all. He’d seen the midwife pull out a much smaller baby and felt his knees go weak, but thankfully; he was on the chair this time.
The sound of the cries rattling the room had your heart stilling and racing at once. It was the most intimidating sound. They’d been placed on your chest for seconds before they were taken to be quickly weighed and cleaned up and you were too in shock to even take it in. You were in a daze. You couldn't believe what went on. What just happened?
What time was it?
What day was it?
How much time had passed?
How long were you pushing?
You felt breathless. The sounds of them felt like a ringing in your ear and suddenly — your heart lept with relief, with excitement — crying. Good. They were alive. They were breathing. The nurses have them. They’re cleaning them. Great. Lovely. I’m so fucking tired.
You snuggled your head into your shoulder for a second.
Amid being in a bubble from hearing the sound of the living beings he created - Harry’s heart dropped at the right of you, and he lept from his spot to your side, immediately slapping your face, eyes almost out of their sockets, “Y/N? Y/N. COME ON NOW!”
“OW HARRY!” You moaned, pushing his hand away.
He let out a breath. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ. DON’T YOU EVER!”
“I’m tired!” You argued, your eyelids weighing a tonne.
“You’re not closing your eyes,” he almost laughed despicably. No way in hell was he letting you drift. You would die.
You were drowsy. Still feeling drugged. “Give me a moment.”
“Y/n, NO!” His hand shook your jaw. You were not leaving him alone. You were not doing this right now. He hadn’t felt fear like this. You hadn’t even met the kids yet!
You lost a little blood which could have explained the weakness - or simply the fact you’d pushed two babies during your labour — that reminder was almost traumatic just hearing it — but either way, you were fucking wrecked. Delusional a little. Probably dehydrated. Your eyes could barely sit open. His Mum brought a bottle to your lips and patted your sweaty hair, and the drink of water seemed to have sparked the smallest bit of life in you as two women suddenly approached your bed with the biggest smiles on their faces. Holding one of each, a living angel wrapped in a fluffy white towel, they leaned to place them in your arms.
You were so confused. You knew they was yours, they were your ones but you were so confused. But you acted like you knew what to do, I mean, you were guessing you were supposed to just take them.
“Congratulations, Mama,” the warmth hit your arm, and then the other, and suddenly — you were with it, you were with them in the room. Everything made sense. The world stopped spinning. Everything went quiet.
Two of the most beautiful little faces lay with their eyes closed, a frown on one of them and the other peacefully pouting, little fists clenched by their cheeks.
Your eyes welled to the brim as your heart rate excelled.
Oh, my God. I did it.
I actually did it!
Oh my God.
They’re here, they’re right here! My babies!
My babies.
Yours. Your babies.
Yours and Harry’s.
Harry.
He was suspiciously quiet.
You tore your eyes off them to look at him in the seat next to you, and the tears fully flowed at the sight of him — palms digging into his sockets, the tears spilling down him like a running tap. Your heart burst in your chest as a rock formed in your throat, you tried to reach for his face, “Harry.”
Eyes were red, streaks staining his face even though he urgently wiped them away and he sniffed multiple times. He became completely undone in front of you, his heart out on the table. He had never felt an emotion like this before. He didn’t think he could feel like this. The overwhelming feeling of love and adoration he had, and the luck he felt that moment, the life he had been blessed with, the person he’d been blessed with — he was overwhelmed with gratitude. “Why am I fucking crying?” He looked at you, laughing. “I’m just . . this is so weird? I-I’m so happy right now,” he said, voice shaken but tinted with delight. He couldn’t believe the big day was finally here - finally done with.
His world was complete.
It was right in front of him.
For ages you both just gazed at them, seeing them so settled and unexpectedly not crying for anything yet. Harry’s Mum burst into tears too, hand shaking when she touched their little heads, as if to confirm they were here and real.
She kissed you both with the fullest heart, beaming with pride - already had 100 photos to share. “I’ll be back soon for a nurse!” She squeezed you both before leaving to freshen up and let you have your moments as a family of four now. She would be back soon, with the rest of the clan, so they could all see the new additions.
They were perfect.
For ages you sat in silence, the pair of you unable to put your eyes anywhere else. How were they here? How were they yours?!
Your arms hugged them while Harry stroked your head, in complete disbelief staring at them.
“Why did you faint twice?” You laughed, tears drying your face. He laughed also, drying the rest of his.
“I don’t know. You were getting all the attention,” he managed to croak out, bringing his eyes back to his two creations.
He did that.
Or . . he helped with that.
You looked at them two, completely mesmerized and in disbelief still that they were yours. They were in you. That was what the constant pushing down on your ribs were - or kicking you while you tried to sleep. That was who was making you sick 8 months ago when you tried to eat all your favourite food. Jesus Christ.
You felt like you could finally breathe.
“I actually don’t believe it,” Harry sat with his hands over his mouth, unable to take his eyes off them.
This was his life now.
This was his forever.
A midwife appeared and approached your bed. “We’re just going to take Little Girl and weigh her again, she’s a little underweight compared to her brother, but that can be normal!” a soft voice told you, and you nodded understandingly and allowed her to take her, your heart a little upset at her words.
Little girl. Brother. Oh God. You had a son and daughter now. You were someone’s Mum. You were their Mum. You were a Mum.
You were a milf.
“My boy,” you finally spoke to them, removing your eyes from the door the midwife left with your baby to your first born. Your big boy. “How much do you weigh?”
“He’s 5.5.”
“Five and a half pounds!” That was all?! Swear they felt heavier in the womb.
“How much is she?”
Harry shrugged, “I heard 4.”
Four pounds? For a little baby? That was a little worrying, but you trusted the nurse’s word saying it was normal at times.
You suddenly furrowed your brows. “Is their cord cut?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you cut it?!” You looked at him. He was leaning on his hand, knees swaying in his seat as he stared down at his son. “Yeah.”
“DID YOU?!”
“Yes!” He laughed at your response. “Y/n you were looking right at me.”
“Was I?” You definitely blacked out or something.
“Yes,” he smiled, bringing his hand to your head to place another kiss on it. “I love you,” he copied your stare of the boy. “Well done.”
You snickered at his words. “Thanks.”
He was messing a little, but he meant it. He was so undeniably proud of you and understood everything — you did get a new respect for your woman. He felt like he was standing next to a God — a woman who’d done it twice! He would worship you ‘til the rest of his days, not that he already did.
He was so lucky you were his.
“Here’s Baby Girl,” your baby soon returned and the midwife placed her in your other arm and quickly took a seat on a stool. “So, Little Boy is 5 and a ½ pounds, very normal for a twin — Little Girl on the other hand is only 4 pounds, but it’s nothing to be too alarmed about. It can be common. You have to stay in for a couple days anyway so we’ll be able to monitor until you’re ready to leave. It shouldn’t take long for them to fill out once you start feeding and stuff,” she ran over with you, going over a few more little things to expect during your stay and the first few days, just to refresh your memory after your brain had turned a little foggy, and left again.
“Are you going to hold them?” You eventually asked Harry, and you could see the nerves in his eyes, but you and another midwife encouraged he could do it and he would be fine. Just some skin to skin bonding.
“Do I have to take my top off?” he apprehensively pulled his hoodie over his head but you only laughed encouragingly, watching him sit down in the chair next to you.
“Take it off, you big dilf,” you watched his face, preparing to take pictures as the nurses passed them the babies.
Your heart melted. Completely liquidated, a puddle in your chest. You wanted to stay in this moment forever. “Why they so warm?” He pulled an uncomfortable face as they settled nicely on him, the three having a little group hug in the corner. You chuckled at him, taking more photos.
You’d never felt so blessed.
It suited him. A lot. “They love you so much already.” They were bound to know that voice who rambled on to them every night.
He thought it suited you too – especially when they took to you naturally, thank heavens, when you began to feed. Grateful they didn’t put up a fight or have any trouble, although using a bottle wouldn’t have changed anything, you were relieved to hear them drinking ok. It was the first time you’d felt properly soothed and that you were doing something right. Although you couldn’t deny it, you did feel a bit weird. “I feel so used”.
Harry watched them latched to your chest. “I feel so . .” did he say it? Was he really going to make a childish comment at this time? “. . jealous,”
By the time 7:00pm was rolling around, you felt so much better after getting a little snooze (although Harry watched the monitor every single second), a shower with the help of a few nurses, and some new pyjamas, bought specially from your boyfriend: you felt brand new. Currently, you were hobbling around the room after being scared by the midwife you may get clots in your legs if sitting down too long, so you walked about slowly, looking out the massive window to see the city lights of London.
It was so comforting, being in the warmth of the private room whilst looking outside. You kept fiddling with the hospital band on your wrist - the matching ones you shared with your little darlings labeled Baby Twin Lewis (F) and (M).
“It’s so dark outside,” you said, subconsciously digging your hand into the mcdonalds bag on the table for the remainder of chips, and shoved them in your mouth. Harry was in the corner of the room, slouched on the big comfy chair, both babies in either arm, now both freshly cleaned like their mama, and dressed in matching babygrows.
Different colours of course. “It’s almost 7:00, though,” you turned around to see him, and whilst eating the chip, you smiled like the smuggest person in the world, heart thumping. Your three big babies, all cozied between each other. You took another picture, loving how content his babies were snuggled into one of his hoodies just like you did. You didn’t doubt they’d already grown attached to his smell.
Harry had a nerve to look tired - keeping his eyes closed while each hand hung protectively over their little bodies. Tell me about it sister, labour can be so long.
“Harry, I’m starving already,” you mumbled after changing your lockscreen, laying half on your side, drumming your thigh.
Harry unexpectedly laughed, like really began to laugh, and you looked at him insecurely. “What?!”
It was the way you were laying, and talking, seeming so chilled in contrast to hours ago when he was convinced you were going to pull London Bridge down. “Nothin’, you just . . I’m glad you’re back to yourself,” he laughed, confusing you even more. Eh?
“What’d you mean?” You laughed, you'd been yourself all the time?
“You’re just lying there casually, like . . you’re waiting for me to go downstairs and tell my Mum to make us something to eat.” He made the similarities, from when you two only started going together and were too nervous to speak to his family one-on-one, thinking you were the biggest inconvenience for staying over all the time, up in his room.
Now look at where you both were.
“Oh my God!” A soft squeal caught your attention, and you turned to see Rosie walk through the door first, hands on her mouth, a gift bag sliding down her arm. She was not going to cry again. She’d already cried twice from pictures.
Josh followed, along with his Dad and then his Mum with a little trio of balloons, smiling each time he looked at each one’s reaction.
You moved to the windowsill, heart fluttering at the family affair. You were witnessing a core memory.
Everyone was crying again — you were hugging them, laughing as you and Harry had already done this part, and watched them enter that phase of disbelief and realisation dawning. “Oh my God,” his sister said again, sitting at the edge of the bed across from her brother, across from her niece and nephew.
“Do you want to hold them?” Harry grinned as he asked the obvious.
“Yes please,” she croaked, closing her eyes to stop the tears from falling.
“Auntie Rosie and Uncle Josh . .” you casually sang as Harry placed Little Girl first in her arms.
“Do you want to hold this one?” He craned his head to find his brother, who nodded acceptingly. Why? Why did they always make that face at one another? Why did they always look like they were trying not to laugh?
“Hi honey,” his Mum wrapped an arm around you to finally give you your greeting, kissing your head as she watched you look at them all in adoration. “How are you love?”
“I’m alright. Getting the steps in,” you leaned into her.
“You did brilliantly,” his Dad pulled you into him by your shoulder, feeling the pride burst out of him at the sight of you and his son. “I’m so happy for the both of you.”
“Don’t, ‘cause I'm going to cry again!” His wife began to dab her eyes already, walking over to her own kids holding her first set of grandkids.
Dreams come true after all.
“Josh, lad, you need to sit back.”
“I AM!”
“YOU'RE NOT! YOU'RE SITTING UP STRAIGHT!” They were laughing so much and you wanted to laugh too if Harry wasn’t hovering your baby in the air with a jolty body. Hurry up and give him to him!
Rosie was already taking pics and videos, completely besotted as you two already were. Harry sat on the arm while Josh eventually got holding his nephew, in awe and a little unnerved by how much he much looked like them - like a Lewis. “I love you so much,” you could hear her mumbling against your daughter's sweet head, while his Mum came and sat next to her, stroking her mitten covered hand.
“How’re they yours,” Josh said to his older brother, slightly disturbed that he was a Dad now. You’d made him responsible not for one life, but two.
You could see his mouth twitching, a smart answer bubbling in his brain and brace yourself. “So, you see when you have sex—”
Josh thumped his fist to his arm, ruining his vibe while looking at this little boy he already couldn’t wait to kick a ball about wirh; torture him a little as Harry had tortured him growing up — or better! Get him to torture Harry as a karma for having his bad big brother moments. “Let me get your picture!”
Everyone got a cuddle, everyone got photos taken to be framed and put in the living room, while you sat on the edge of a seat, eating and going through your presents: a couple babygrows for your little angels and mittens; a pair of pyjamas for you and a bottle of Malibu that had you harshly pressing your lips to Rosie’s cheek. “Comfy there?” Harry asked when you two lay in the hospital bed, scrolling on your phone to show her something you’d seen the other day, as if you were two teenagers chilling in her room.
“So comfy,” his sister answered.
His mum and dad had their turn, cuddling one of each while you stood with your back pressed to Harry, his arm hung over your front as you looked at everybody. He felt so full. So did you. You were both just so grateful and fully absorbed in that baby bubble. Your arms clung around him behind you, pulling him closer to you so you could smell his scent and get it on you.
“Can I post these?”
“No!” Harry deadpanned, looking up from you, “I haven’t even posted anything yet!”
Their parents were rolling their eyes so hard right now.
“Oh. I thought you were just gatekeeping your kids.”
“I’m not gatekeeping them.”
“Like gatekeeping their faces,” his brother butted in with a smirk.
“What’s wrong with that?”
You turned your head at him.
Rosie looked away from her phone, “so can I post their face?”
“No.”
“We’re not showing their faces?” You looked at him taken back.
“I don’t wanna show their faces,” he looked at you confused, “not fresh out the womb.”
“You don’t?” You were convinced he’d want to show them off and say how he had the prettiest babies.
“No, not right now.” He furrowed his brows.
Oh. “Okay.” Your lip subconsciously pulled to the side as your heart fluttered at the thought — a protective daddy already.
“Great, so I need to put a heart over their faces now,” Rosie huffed as she got to editing.
“I just want to savor it a little bit more, thank you very much,” he said sassily with a closing of his eyes, “have people to judge my babies already.” Fair, you thought. He had his weird notions for privacy, but also, he didn’t like the thought of pictures of his kids being blasted all across the internet, just hours old.
You didn’t argue with him, he seemed to have his foot down.
“. . she does look like a—” his Mum didn’t even say the name as she closed her eyes in defeat which made you laugh.
See! You knew she’d grow to like them, although — now you were apprehensive and took up the offer of some time before printing it in ink on the birth certificate.
“Your Nan thinks you’re a big, dirty coin,” Harry bounced her tiny little hand with his finger.
You were so in love with him.
“I don’t want to leave!”
“I know!” His Mum whined as she stood up upon seeing the time. Visiting hours were almost over and she was already planning on her outfit for tomorrow when she came and seen you again. “My beautiful angel.” She kissed her granddaughter’s hat-covered head. “You are just like your daddy. Sorry Y/n, I know that's not what you want to hear,” she chuckled, handing her over to you.
“It’s okay, I know,” you pretended to angrily clench your fist. But she was right. It was questionable any of your DNA had got in there.
“The genes are strong,” Harry discreetly fist pumped the air in success.
“The genes are strong,” you agreed, taking your baby girl in your arms, “no one can dare question the Dad, they are all him.”
“Identical,” his Dad agreed, staring down at his grandson who looked just as his dad once did.
Harry was so proud. For some reason, it gave him the hugest ego boost while you had no other choice but to get on with it.
“You look more like your Aunt Rosie than me,” you fake cried to the little girl, “look at that face!” you held her up, seeing her scrunch her little legs. I mean she was Harry but a girl, so, she was technically a close look alike to Rosie. She’d look more like you as she grew, though, Harry could already see from the similarities he could point out from your old baby pictures. “They actually — no, d’you know what it is,” you shifted your weight on one hip, “you all look alike but Rosie and Josh look so alike when you see them so close together,” you could feel the clogs turning in your head. They had more similar features. “Josh and Harry look alike until you see Rosie and then Harry looks nothing at all to them.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean you all look the same.”
“No, I see Josh in him too when I look at him.” His Mum commented as she handed him back his son.
“So, is this the part where you tell me they’re actually Josh’s kids?”
You sighed. “Yeah.“
Josh, disapproving of this joke, shook his head and stood up, ready to bid his goodbyes.
“Well they’re not! They’re all mine,” Harry held your baby boy up in the air before bringing him down to his lips where he smothered his cheek in nonstop kisses, the baby looking unbelievably tiny in his hold.
Everybody couldn’t get over Harry, and just how smitten he was over something already.
The last they’d seen him close to it was with his dog, and at that, he ended up giving him away to the family over in Guernsey. He was absolutely mesmerised. Obsessed.
It was almost uncomfortable.
“Bye! Love you,” Rosie kissed and hugged you tight and gave Little Girl a kiss on her cheek as you held her up to her with a smile. “I will see you soon!” She went and did the same with her brother and nephew as you thanked her again for her adorable presents.
You all got a hug and kiss goodbye, seeing everyone go as you slightly waved the twins’ arms, seeing how it nearly sent Harry’s Mum to tears again.
“Can I see my little girl before I need to go?” You both switched babies, finally resuming your spot comfortably on your bed as he took her from you. He was besotted by both but he knew he already had a bigger protective streak over his baby girl when he discovered her brother had deprived her in the womb, and therefore, made her smaller compared to him.
It was crazy the things he was already promising to do in head head for someone so tiny and he’d only met today. They were his life, and he would, and was, going to do anything and everything for them.
Your baby girl was a doll. If he could balance her, she would have been able to fit in one hand. “My little girl,” he patted her pack, swaying side to side, “my little princess . . deprived by her big brother. Left to starve,” he glanced down at you and your son on your chest. “He’s a big bully. He’s a biiig bully, in’t he,” he shook his head while you laughed at his behaviour. But then he came over, successfully holding Baby Girl in his arms and brought the other one around you, hugging all four of you into him. “I love you so much, Y/n.”
“I love you so much,” you felt the lump in your throat, completely overwhelmed with love and gratefulness. Your family. Your very own family.
He leaned down and gave you a kiss, to which you returned three times short, holding the back of his head. “You’re the best.”
“No, you’re the best.” He kissed you again. “Thank you for everything.” He wasn’t just talking about gifting him his baby boy and baby girl, that included sticking by him since his young hooligan days when he wouldn’t even have blamed you for leaving him. “I’m a very lucky man.”
“Well . . I’m luckier.”
“Mm. Debatable,” he pulled away, moving your hair to the side, and you caught his hand before he pulled away and squeezed it.
“I am the lucky one, I have you by my side. I’m glad I stuck it out,” you laughed, referring to his crazy, unhinged phases. He laughed at you. “No, but you really are the best.” You kissed his hand. “My favourite boy.”
He smiled down at you, and brought your hand to his lips to give it another kiss. “You’re my favourite too.” And then he kissed his baby girl’s head and then his baby boy’s, “and then you, and then you.”
You smiled in contentment, feeling ready for whatever that was yet to come, so long, you had your favourites by your side. Your little family.
How you all couldn’t wait to get back home and show them off to everyone.
Liked by faithlouisak, taliamar and 5,873,828 others
something sweet hung softly in the air as he opened his eyes, the scent of her clinging to both his skin, and the covers that felt light against his body. sleep had made a home in his mind overnight and was slowly clearing as the timid sunlight slipped into the room. it wasn’t often he woke up before alarms, on his own accord, but the way her skin felt against his was too precious to miss.
it was humble, her arm simply draped across his chest under the cotton sheets. there was no intention behind it, no drive or motive. a subconscious reach for a warmth that only his yearning skin had been able to provide. scared to move, in case her conscious swam it’s way back to the forefront of her slumber, he laid there. content. next to her, for the first time in this way.
time felt as though it had halted. as though someone way up above had felt the surge of pure joy that swelled around his heart when he felt her gentle touch. as though they handed him all the time in the world to spend with her, just for this moment.
he was content, as well, with just this. after years of pining, of his heart leaping out of his chest to be with hers, of every lyric of every song belonging to her, every horizon falling inferior to the sight of her. hell, if this passing moment of loving contact was his life supply, he could die tomorrow with a smile on his face.
and maybe, just maybe, she would swim back to his reality. opening her eyes gently in the morning light, feeling his warmth in the palm of her hand, and just maybe she wouldn’t mind it. maybe, she would draw soft nothings on his skin. maybe she would move closer...
but for now, he relished in the minuscule dose of touch she fed him. he wasn’t sure how a simple hand brushing his skin had such a sweet chokehold on him, but god, was he happy it did. laying here, in her heat, in her bed, he was more content then he’d ever been.
he was sure of it. sure that if her holding him now made his heart swell this much, that he would follow her to the ends of the earth one day, just to feel her touch.
Can we have some sexy time with gray that stars out rough but ends up soft and cute🥺
I’m gonna make it a continuation of this concept bc low key it’s one of my faves and yk.. why not.
Also I was gonna try to finish this on my laptop so I could put the keep reading break so I don’t clog ppls dashes but tumblr never fucking works on there and I couldn’t do it :/ sorry
A/N: hi hello just finished writing this and it turned out to be garbage but I wanted to post something for the ppl asking. If you are one of those ppl I’m sorry for this haha truly it was just the best I could do for now.
***
For the first half of the ride home, Grayson’s hand doesn’t leave your thigh. You can feel the tension still brewing in him in the way his calloused fingers grip the soft, bare skin; in the heavy sighs he releases every few minutes and the sudden revs of the engine as he speeds down the highway.
His lingering frustrations at the situation that happened in the mall make you smile softly, and you interlace your fingers with the ones stroking your thigh. Eyes big and sympathetic, you bring the back of his hand to your lips. “Baby, relax,” your murmur against his skin quietly. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
Grayson shakes his head and glances at you as he pulls your joined hands into his lap. “I fuckin hate guys like that. Can’t believe he put his hands on you.”
“He touched you?” Ethan piped up from the backseat, voice incredulous. “Oh, fuck that. If that has been K...”
The short remainder of the car ride was filled with the twins loud, enthusiastic rants about douchebag chauvinistic men who have no respect for women. It warms your heart, makes your chest fill with pride at the thought of how good your man really is. You squeeze his hand and stroke his arm gently, dragging your nails up and down the veins popping out from the stress and anger he’s both somehow releasing, but also still carrying.
The three of you make it home, and Ethan is immediately hopping out of the car with his shopping bags, eager to see his girlfriend and show her what he had bought her while she had been out with friends. Grayson’s jaw is clenched as the two of you follow his brother inside, and you make your way immediately to his room; you think you know exactly what he needs to get rid of that last bit of well-intended machismo energy he’s got in him.
Sure enough, Grayson shuts the door behind him with a little more force than he really intended, tosses all the shopping bags he had carried in for you to the ground, and wraps those strong arms around your waist in all of two seconds of the door being locked. You giggle and let him hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands gently to bring your lips together.
He walks the two of you to his bed and lays you down as gently as he can while you’re still clinging to him, mouths never separating as he captures your lips over and over again in hot, relentless kisses. When your back hits the mattress, you moan softly and hitch your leg higher up his side, his hand sliding to your ass and grabbing a handful of it through your shorts.
“I need you,” he says gruffly between kisses, panting heavily. He squeezes your cheek again, and uses his grip to haul your hips closer to his while simultaneously lowering some of his weight onto you. You can feel the hard ridge of him against your center, and it makes you gasp. “Can I, please?”
“Yeah, baby,” you agree easily, almost as desperate for Grayson now as he is for you. He’s sexy and kind and good and you love him, and you imagine the scenario of some girl running her hands on those thick arms you love so much, or the swell of his abs over his shirt, and you realize the healthy possessiveness very much runs both ways. Your blood runs hot, and you slip your hands under his shirt to feel the rippling planes of his back. “Want you so bad.”
He growls, deep and primal, and you bite your lip as he sits up and whips his shirt over his head by the collar. It gets tossed blindly to the corner of his room, and you’re instantly reaching out to run your hands over all those muscles covered by soft, tan skin.
Grayson sighs and lets you indulge for a few moments, his lips quirking up at the corners for a quick second and ruining that sexy scowl as he watches you admire him.
“Fuck,” he mumbles. His big, warm hands cup your hips, and he shuffles down some as he slides your oversized shirt up so your stomach becomes exposed for him — supple skin that’s just begging to be kissed.
So he does. His lips are soft and a little wet from the kisses you had shared just a minute ago, but they’re hot and insistent as he makes his way up your torso. Goosebumps flare in their wake, and you shudder beneath his smirk. Grayson pushes your shirt up further, just beneath your bra now, fingers shifting grips from the dips of your waist to the ridges of your rib cage now.
You don’t need words to know what he wants, so you lift your arms overhead the second he bunches the shirt up past your tits. His tongue drags over your sternum once it’s thrown across the room, then he’s swiping it over the buds of your nipples peaking through the sheer mesh of your bra.
Your back arches up into him with a gasp, fingers delving into his thick hair as he grunts and tugs the cups of your bra aside to free your tits for him. Your nipples tighten even more, damp from his tongue and now completely exposed to the cool air of his room — not to mention, the way he’s looking at you right now has every nerve ending in your body excited.
His pretty hazel irises, usually so soft and comforting, are consumed now by the dark of his pupils, despite the warm sunlight shining through the window. Those smoldering eyes stay locked on yours as he ducks his head to suck your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth, his hand kneading your other breast roughly.
“Love your tits,” he huffs against you after a minute of making you writhe beneath him. His tongue trails to the center of your chest, and he nuzzles your cleavage, breathing in the sweet smell of your skin. His stubble scratches against the plush, delicate flesh there, but it’s a mere second before he’s switching breasts to give each the opposite treatment.
You lose his eyes when he shuts them to really absorbe the touch and taste of you, but you don’t mind when he smells so good and feels so familiar and uses those lips and tongue and fingers so fucking good. You whimper and clutch him even closer to you than he already is, perfectly content to have him suck at your tits for as long as he pleases. The feel of him big and heavy and warm on top of you is as relaxing as it is arousing, being so consumed by the sensations of him up top while his erection fits snugly against your pussy.
“Grayson,” you whisper desperately. He looks up at you, and you’re taken by the softness behind the desire in his gaze. He follows the tug on his hair you give to drag him up for a kiss, and you both sigh happily into one another’s mouths when they reconnect. It goes without saying that you could kiss this man forever.
You tighten your legs around his waist and and urge him to rock his hips into yours. Grayson obliges readily, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as he starts grinding into you. His hand returns to your ass, holding you against him for the perfect leverage while he sucks on your tongue and tries to find the right angle to put just the right pressure on your clit.
It’s like any moment of softness and slowness gives him time to remember what got the two of you here this afternoon in the first place, and the ravenous energy from before picks right back up. You’re definitely not complaining by the ebb and flow of everything; it only heightens your own desperation for him, to know he cares so much and wants you to the point of making you cum just from some heavy dry humping.
As if he can read your mind (or maybe you his), Grayson pulls away from the kiss and drags his free hand up your thigh, squeezes your waist, and punches your nipple on his way to grip your cheeks gently but firmly in those strong, calloused fingers. He makes sure you’re looking him dead in the eye again when he tells you in a deep, rumbly voice, “Wanna make you cum in these fucking shorts. Can you cum for me, baby?”
You nod as best you can in his grasp, shifting your head enough to slip his pointer finger into your mouth. You watch him watch you suck it, his hips pressing harder into yours as the pleasure and overall arousal turns up for both of you. His cheeks are flushed and his chain dangles between you, glinting in the sun and reflecting bright spots on the tan skin of his pecs.
A moan escapes you, vibrating around his finger before you add the middle one for a few moments, too. You let him push them down your tongue until the tips touch the back of your throat, and you pull them out with a slight gag and a seductive smile.
“Make me cum,” you murmur hotly, guiding his hand between your bodies and slipping it past your waistband — leaving the shorts with that little logo on the leg on, just as he requested. “I’m so close already, Gray. Please.”
Grayson moans himself and shifts his weight so you’re flat on your back and he’s hovering over you with a hand planted next to your pillow. He touches your pussy for the first time this whole afternoon just as you arch your back to reach beneath you and unhook your bra.
You fling the useless garment across the room and grab immediately onto his forearm by your head, the other clutching the sheets in attempts to ground yourself from the sudden surge in pleasure emanating from your clit. Grayson circles it a couple of times before sliding one, then two, fingers to the hilt.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet, baby,” he groans. You can only nod and moan, then cry out his name when he curls his fingers just right and finds your spot, like he knew right where to look and wanted to waste no time getting to it. He latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise into your pulse point while he builds that wave inside you. His fingers don’t pump in and out, but stay hooked on that spot that’s making you moan and whine, using his wrist to vary the pressure on it until you’re absolutely losing it, exploding on his hand with broken whimpers of his name.
You’re still high in the sky when he sucks his fingers in his mouth with an appreciative moan and tugs off your shorts finally, then his own, before crawling back on top of you. Naked together and still riding the lingering aftermath of that orgasm, you hum contentedly and accept the hot, desperate kiss he pulls you into.
“Wanna fuck you. Need to fuck you,” he mumbles against your lips, already reaching between you to rub the tip of his dick up and down your soaking wet folds. Even though you’re still sensitive and satisfied, almost nothing can bring you back to a stare of pure arousal like when he teases your hole like that — so close but not enough. It awakens this primal, incessant feeling of absolutely needing to be filled up, and you can’t wait anymore.
You thread your fingers through the back of his hair and arch your hips to encourage him to slip inside, which he finally does with a guttural groan.
“Fuckin give it to me, Gray,” you say once he has a steady rhythm built up. It’s not enough for either of you today, though, and you both know it. You need closer, hotter, harder, more.
Grayson looks wild, his hair sticking up in all directions from your wandering hands, eyes dark but bright, a thin sheen of sweat illuminating ever ridge and valley of muscles on his torso. He doesn’t give you much more time to look, however, as he hooks your knees over his elbows and leans down over your body.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he tucks his face against your own as he starts pounding, his balls slapping against you ass with every hard thrust. The angle is catching you just right and the sharp, pleasurable pain of his teeth sinking into your collarbone only brings everything to a new level. His quiet but audible grunts and moans float right to your ear, the best sounds in the world as he delivers exactly what you asked for.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whine, digging your nails into the sinews of his back. Grayson keeps driving into you with renewed purpose, absolutely set on getting you there again with nothing more than his cock.
“Yes, baby, please,” he begs, groaning loudly when he feels you start to clamp down on him. “That’s it... all over my dick... pussy feels so goddamn good.”
You should be sleepy and beyond satisfied at this point, but his heated words make you want to absolutely ravage him. With that, there’s the glow only a couple of amazing orgasms from the man you love can make you feel that fills your chest. So when you’re able to voluntarily move your limbs again, you push back on his chest so he has to stop sucking sweet little kisses into the collumn of your neck. He looks at you a little confused, but you just smile gently and keep putting pressure against him until he ends up on his back.
You settle between his tattooed legs and admire the way his dick lies flat against that solid tummy of his, glistening with your juices. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you take him in your hand to guide his throbbing length between your kiss-swollen lips.
You suck your cum off his skin, humming in satisfaction while you watch him lay back with one hand behind his head and the other petting your hair gently.
“Love your dick,” you say before sucking the leaking tip into your mouth. “Only want yours, baby. Just made me cum so hard...” you trail off with a wanton moan, then get to work sucking him off for real. His eyes fall shut and his fingers work deeper into the loose strands of your hair for a firmer grip. You roll his balls in your palm, pulling out all the tricks you know he loves to get him there as well as he did for you. “Mine.”
He guides you deeper with the hand on your head, never pushing more than he know you’re willing to take; he loves the tangible feeling of that sweet mouth sucking him off, taking him as far down your throat as you can. You make it sloppy for him, letting all the drool and saliva coat his shaft until it’s dripping down his balls. You lift off him with a gasp and massage the slick into his skin before ducking down and sucking them one at a time into your mouth for a tongue bath while you jerk his dick off above you.
You can hear the hitch in his breath, see the short heaves of his chest when you follow the pressure he pulls on your hair in silent request to get you to suck him again. All signs point to him being about to bust, but you want more than his cum in your mouth.
You hurry to mount him, smiling when you catch his look of surprise. He moans as you sink down on him, and you pick up his hands to interlace your fingers for intimacy and leverage.
“Cum inside me,” you tell him, bouncing on him so your tits jiggle for him.
Grayson watches as long as he can, holding out until his eyes roll back and his fingers dig into the backs of your hands as he fills you up with deep, drawn-out moans. You grin in satisfaction, happily obliging him when he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down so your chests are flush together.
You hum as he comes down and pepper kisses across his jaw, his nose, his closed eyes. Any bit of that handsome face you love so much that you can reach with your lips gets a sweet peck. Grayson sighs and lets you keep going until he’s gripping your hips and lifting you off his softening cock.
“Sorry if I got too caveman,” he mumbles tiredly after a few moments. “I just love you.”
You shake your head and bury your grin into his neck. “No need to apologize. Actually, I can’t wait to go back to that store with you. I still want those leggings.”
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