LoveOnTour

[superevilart]

if you have ever suffered from…  

• depression 

• anxiety 

• eating disorder 

• self-harm

• ocd 

• bipolar 

• feelings of guilt and hopelessness 

• suicidal thoughts 

can you please reblog to show support for people who also suffer. you are not alone.

[reblog-thisif]

Reblog this if its okay for your followers to introduce themselves to you.

[jamausis]

Just come to my ask box and tell me stuff about yourself. Your pets. Your favorite music. What you had for breakfast this morning. Literally anything you want, I love making new friends

[stylesvolume94]

Hello, I was wondering if you’re going to continue the Foster parent fic? I love your writing btw❤️

Hi! Thank you so much, that’s really sweet! I will be continuing with Foster Parents, it may take some time though, I have several prompts started but I’ll try to get some works posted ☺️ I really appreciate the support ❤️

[stylesvolume94]

She’s Moved On

July 21, 2020 // 11:03 pm 

“Ah, c’mon H, I’m sorry!” Benny was trailing behind a stomping Harry attempting to get him to understand his remorse. “Listen, I didn’t plan for tonight to go down the way it did...you know that if I had any idea she was going to show up I wouldn’t have asked you to come with!”

Harry suddenly spun around just as they had stepped up to his apartment door. Face red with anger and fists clenching at the hoodie in his hands as a reminder to not hit anything, Harry got up in Benny’s face not bothering to keep his voice down. 

“That’s just it, Benny! Never wanted to go in the first place, but you always have to push and push!” Benny cast his head down slightly, furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw in frustration. He had only wanted to get his friend out of hiding and around good company, but he never expected her to be there. Then again, it was a very popular fair and the whole group knew that Brayley still lived in the area. 

After several minutes of heavy breathing and counting back from one hundred, Harry closed his eyes and brought his hands to his face, hiding his shame in the soft black hoodie. He shook his head trying to rid his anger away the best he could. He knew it wasn’t Benny’s fault that she showed up, anyone could’ve shown and if anything, it was Harry’s fault. He was the one that dated her, not Benny or any of his other friends. Being the first time in years he had seen her, he was more than taken aback. 

With a final shake of his head, he ran his hands down his face. “Just please leave. Wanna be alone for the rest of the night.” Harry turned to put the key in the lock, having a bit of trouble from his trembling hands. 

“M’sorry, Harry. Really, I am.” Benny’s voice came out as a whisper and Harry knew he really meant what he said. Out of their small group of friends, Benny and Harry were the closest. He had been there on Christmas day when Harry was alone and in a fit of rage from his breakup. Had been there when Harry broke down in the worst amount of guilt and shame he had ever felt. He was the one who drove Harry to his first therapy appointment and rehab group and has never once made Harry feel badly for his past mistakes.   

With these reminders, Harry turned back to his best mate, glancing up at him and offering the smallest tinge of a smile. “Yeah, I know.” He whispered. “S’ok. Just tired now. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, a’right. Goodnight, H.” Benny retreated towards the elevator just down the hall as Harry entered his apartment. He went straight to the kitchen and opened up the cabinet closest to the fridge as if on instinct. He furrowed his brow when he was met with a few glass dishes and then dropped his head in humiliation. He’s been sober for years and here he was looking for a drink. He felt sick. 

Opting on a glass of apple juice, Harry sat at his dining table, staring at nothing in particular as the darkness surrounded him. The only light coming through was from the moon and Harry wondered if Brayley was laying on the beach with her new boyfriend, talking about nothing as her face split into a shit eating grin and her hands gestured wildly in the summer breeze. Tears sprung to Harry’s eyes at the image. 

With a defeated sigh, Harry carefully placed his head in his palms and rubbed at his temples. The events of hours ago replayed in his head as he remembered seeing his ex-girlfriend for the first time in several years; a real wakeup call and kick in the ass if anyone were to ask how he felt the moment his eyes landed on her beautiful figure. 

---------

7:18 pm

“C’mon man, it’ll be fun as shit. You know Dax will be there and he’s bringing his bag, so don’t pussy out now. Come get high with us, eat some shit food, and go on a few rides. You can’t mope around forever.” 

“Y’know I don’t do that shit anymore, Benny. Stop being a dick.” 

“The only one being a dick here is you, H. Just say yes, and I’ll stop askin.”

With a roll of the eyes, Harry rose from his spot on the worn leather couch to gather his keys and wallet before heading to put on some shoes. Less than pleased, he followed Benny out the door for their twenty-minute drive. Bennet had been trying to convince Harry to join him and their group out to the local fun fair, but Harry was stubborn. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to be around other people and definitely not at a place that reminded him of his past mistakes. He eventually gave in, only wanting his friend to shut up and the night to be over. And maybe he wouldn’t mind a churro and slurpee. 

7:47 pm

“All right, what’s our game plan?” Benny clapped his hands. Rubbing them together, he was way more excited than Harry thought he should’ve been upon arriving to the fair and meeting the others. It was quite a beautiful evening; seventy-some degrees with a breeze coming in from the lake. The sun was still high but would go down in the next hour or so. Laughter, music, and the squeak of rides filled Harry’s headspace and he wondered if he might actually be able to enjoy himself or at least use the pleasurable environment to lift his mood. 

As promised, Dax brought his drawstring with small baggies that Harry had no interest in accepting. Jace and Brit showed up hand-in-hand, Tyson trailing behind already a bit red-eyed and too smiley. Harry loved his friends, adored them really even if they were all slight druggies who partied too much. They were good company and were the only ones who stayed after Harry’s bad breakup. His ex didn’t take a liking to them, she had thought they were bad influences that were going to take his mind off his music and ambitions. Harry hadn’t thought so and this led to more fights than he could count. Memories of past fights were interrupted by a happy Tyson.

“Hazzy bear! What is up, my guy?” Ty walked up to Harry with his arms outstretched and a goofy grin plastered on his face. He was laughing at nothing and upon pulling him into a tight hug, Harry scrunched his nose at the smell of whiskey encasing the slightly shorter man. 

Harry spoke with a mixture of disgust and understanding, browns furrowed. “Tyson, you’re high as shit mate.”

“Hell yeah!” Ty bellowed out joyously, making Harry flinch and his nose turn up. He took a step back. “How much did you drink before coming here?”

“Oh c’mon, H! Don’t start with your newfound sobriety shit. I’m here for a good time, don’t ruin it!” Though his words came out seriously, Ty ended his scolding with a childish giggle. “How long you been sober for anyways, Haz?” Harry didn’t want to talk about this now. It seemed too heavy a conversation for a ‘fun’ night out. Then again, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself should Ty begin pressing for an answer. 

“Three years.” His face was firm, his voice even more so, indicating the end of the conversation. His friend didn’t catch on. 

“Ah, y’right, y’right. And what, no Brayley tonight?” As Tyson started to smirk, Harry grew tense and eyes widened at the sound of her name. ‘Why bring her up,’ Harry thought, ‘There’s no reason, no fucking reason.’ 

“What the fuck, Ty? Stop, you know that shit’s touchy.” Jace smacked Tyson on his right temple, as Benny scolded him. 

“Oh, fuck off, mate. I was just messin.” Harry shook his head, eyes downcast and chest tighter than a minute ago. Though the sun was shining and weather still nice, Harry felt his body turn cold with remorse and then flush not a minute later with embarrassment. 

He hated the reminder of her. Hated the constant nag of guilt that still hasn’t subsided, and as he was given a round of sympathetic glances, he felt he was going to be sick. ‘I don’t need sympathy. Don’t deserve it.’

Suddenly, there was an awkward tension amongst the small group. They all knew what happened between Harry and Brayley, how he treated her and how she left him. Harry was a wreck after but before his sadness was anger. He was pissed that she had left him, that she wasted two years of his life, and even more pissed at the idea that she had gotten with him for the money and fame. Of course, though, that wasn’t true. 

When his year of anger vanished, he was hit with regret and guilt. That’s when he started his therapy for anger and rehab for alcohol. The years seem to drag day by day, yet they’ve passed so quickly. Dr. Tallon said Harry’s been getting better, giving him weekly exercises and tasks to get him through any temper fits and a prescription for the anxiety and grief that is also improving. 

Harry liked Tallon, though often felt he was too therapeutic at times, way too sympathetic and kind. Harry didn’t need sympathy. He needed answers to why he did what he did, for someone to explain to him why he felt so fucked-up and broken when years ago he felt lively and powerful. Maybe soon he’ll figure it all out. 

Harry was brought out of his thoughts once more as he heard Tyson slightly slur Brayley’s name again. As he spoke, Harry stalked toward Ty with a scowl on his face and fists balled at his sides. “Fuck, Tyson! Would you shut the hell up about her, already? I don’t want to hear her name come out of your mouth again or I swear-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Harry.” Ty interrupted with a less than amused tone. “I only said her name because she’s here.” 

Harry felt his chest cave in and for a second he couldn’t breathe. ‘Here? Right now?’

“What?” He meant for his question to come out more authoritative, but it ended up sounding quite pathetic when his voice cracked. Tyson didn’t answer. Instead, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder to turn him slightly right. 

His face softened and hands carefully reopened. If anyone were to see him now, they would think he had just witnessed something magical. Maybe a love-at first sight situation or the setting of the sun on a beach with waves lightly crashing and weather just absolutely perfect. But the truth could be seen in his eyes; they were pained, so sad and shocked and confused but also happy in a way that he got to witness her beauty once more. 

And there she was, wearing small jean shorts and a bleach-spotted black t-shirt that seemed to be torn from the bottom to make a crop-top depicting some sort of band that was too hard to make out from the distance. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he saw her wearing such revealing clothing. The problem with this thought was the outfit wasn’t that much revealing at all but being with Harry meant wearing clothes he deemed appropriate. The old Harry, of course, for now he understands how controlling a nature he had with Bray. 

She looked amazing. She was a bit tanner than he remembered and her hair a longer length but still a wavy brown that made her look incredible. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from her small frame. Seeing her for the first time in so many years seemed almost mocking, as if the universe wanted to toy with him, punish him. Brayley was laughing, smiling up at this man next to her who wore a smile just as big. 

-----------

11:21 pm

Harry was brought out his head when his phone buzzed from inside his jean pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from Tyson. ‘I’m sorry Haz. Didn’t mean to ruin our time or make you uncomfortable. Call me tomorrow? Maybe we can go to lunch when I’m not high as fuck. Love you H.’

Feeling as though he’s sighed a thousand times since he left for the fair, Harry let one escape his lips before he downed the rest of the juice in the glass. He stood to place the cup in the sink then headed for his bedroom. Harry didn’t bother taking off his clothes nor do his usual routine, he was too tired, felt his heart was still too heavy in his chest.  

Harry closed his eyes and tried to allow his brain to shut down. He wanted sleep, prayed for it and for the day to be forgotten so he could move on. But as the minutes dragged into hours, Harry huffed and turned to face the ceiling. Memories of his ex at the fair began playing through his mudded mind once again, but this time, with every glimpse of her and that man she was oh so happy with that evening, came a flashback to when Harry called Brayley his. 

------

8 pm

The two were in line at a cotton candy stand. Harry watched as the tall, also tanned man handed over a few bills to pay for the purple and blue swirled candy floss. He saw Brayley snap her head to the man’s face and he realized she too had her hand up with some cash, ready to pay. Harry felt his heart squeeze painfully at the sight; she was surprised at this man’s kind gesture.

November 15, 2016

Throughout their relationship, Harry had asked Brayley to pay for their meals only a few times. Brayley didn’t mind and often found herself asking to pay because she felt so lucky to have Harry in her life. She wanted to treat Harry to nice meals and hoped that those small gestures reminded him of her love. 

The last time he made her pay came about unexpectedly, though, and further into their dating. Brayley thought they were having a really nice night out. Harry had finished writing for the album, had finished recording and his record was in the mastering process. Harry wanted to celebrate and Brayley hadn’t seen him so happy to go out for dinner since their very first date. When the bill came and Harry looked across the table to his girl with expecting eyes, Brayley knew the night was going to take a turn. 

“I pay more than half the rent. I pay for all your car problems. I paid for your books this semester too! And what, you can’t get this one fucking food bill?” After going back and forth for several minutes, Harry tried his best to keep his voice hushed. He spoke in the most threatening tone, face hard and hands beginning to ball under the table. Brayley was surprised at his sudden anger but not as much as she wished she should have been. She was too used to his foul mood that never went away; she just didn’t think he’d bring up his paying for her as a way to make her feel guilty. 

“I didn’t ask you to pay for my books.” Brayley felt defeated, utterly helpless and completely embarrassed in that moment. “You surprised me with it, and I never asked you to pay for my car maintenance either, you said you would so I could focus on my loans. And I pay you back for my share that I don’t pay outright for the apartment.” Tears started forming in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. “Please don’t make it sound like I’m using you for money or something because we both know that isn’t true.” Throughout her pleading, her voice was soft and never once raised. She always hated that about herself; how she was never able to fight back when Harry belittled her and made her feel weak.

“Well sorry I’m just trying to be a good boyfriend, hm? Maybe you should try being a decent girlfriend sometime.” So, Brayley paid for the meal, hesitantly of course. After paying off two thousand dollars’ worth of some student loans, she was unsure if she would be able to afford their expensive Italian meals. She’d quietly asked Harry once more when she saw their waiter approaching if he could just pay for this one night, but as the young man reached the table, Harry only stared at her. She knew she was going to hear it when they got home, knew she was in for a loud and lonely night, yet again. 

A few days after that date, Harry walked through the door with his hands full of Chinese take-out, ready to surprise his girl after a bit of guilt crept its way into his chest. Upon shutting the door and turning towards their bedroom, he heard Brayley crying in the hall bathroom. He pressed his ear to the door to better understand her through violent hiccups. She was confessing over the phone, to her mother he later found out, that she was late on a loan payment because she didn’t have the money right then and was now facing a hefty fee that she knew she couldn’t pay. She never brought that up to Harry and Harry never helped her out. 

---------

8:32 pm

Brayley and the mystery man had moved to stand in line for the ferris wheel. Its slow blinking lights and very faint stereotypical clown music used to be enough to make Harry lose his ever-loving mind, but as he witnessed such a gorgeous woman be helped inside a blue-scraped car, Harry couldn’t help but feel like absolute shit. That should have been him on that ride. It should have been him she was smiling at as the wheel turned to lift them high into the sunset. 

June 15, 2015

“Hey, H, could we go on the ferris wheel?” Brayley had tugged on Harry’s jacket sleeve, asking to go on her favorite ride at the fun fair. She had a soft spot for it as that was the ride her father always took her on as a child. Now she wanted to experience it with the new man in her life, her boyfriend of two years. Harry was apprehensive about even going out that night but Brayley mentioned that he promised she could pick their entertainment for the weekend. 

“Don’t wanna.” Harry muttered, his mood the same as it was the moment he agreed on steeping out for the evening. He was less than pleased to go to a damned fair; he hated the noise, the children, everyone in bathing suits as they come off the beach and right onto the fair rides. He hated the fun fair, always had. Brayley was determined to get Harry on the ride. She thought he would love it, think it was somewhat dreamlike, but she was dead wrong. 

“C’mon, it’ll be super cool! We’ll be able to see the whole fair and out into the lake, too. It’ll be really pretty, c’mo-” 

“I said I don’t want to go on that fucking thing. Besides, we don’t have enough tickets.” As he spoke, Harry kept his eye on a football match he had pulled up on his phone that his friend Benny sent him. He took a seat on a nearby bench making Brayley talk as she followed. 

“Yeah we do! S’only like four a person, I think. I can cover for both of us.” At this point, Brayley was begging for her boyfriend to do something with her, something she enjoyed for once. 

As he tried listening to what she was telling him, Harry missed the main point of the video, getting frustrated at his girlfriend’s voice. “I don’t want to! Why can’t you just accept that?” He barked at Bray, resulting in her frame deflating and face flushing from his scolding. 

But just like every day, her voice was the softest she could make it. “Because I wanted to do something fun with you.”

“I brought you to this damn fair, didn’t I? What, you’re not having fun?” Harry set his phone on his lap, putting all his attention on the girl in front of him. He knew that if he focused on her she would get slightly uncomfortable at the confrontation-like position of them and stop asking. 

Brayley knew at this point he wasn’t going to change his mind. But, maybe guilt-tripping him a little would get him to soften up. “We haven’t really done anything except eat and watch people play games...” 

Then again, he’s never been soft with her. “You know what? Go on the stupid thing your damn self. I’ll wait here until you’re done.”

That’s how Brayley ended up in the single rider’s line, waiting her turn to be ushered into a tiny swaying cat. She wanted to be excited but part of her was embarrassed to be standing where she was as she witnessed dozens of smiley couples get into their own little car. She was brought out of her sadness when the worker opened her side of the gate to let her into a shining red one with a young man already inside. Confused, she stepped up and in, taking a seat next to the other single rider as he latched the safety bar across their laps. 

“Hi, I’m Chris.” His voice was kind, soothing and distracting as he stuck his hand over to shake hers. 

“Brayley, nice to meet you.” She offered a kind smile. 

Chris returned the gesture. “You as well. So, nobody to ride with, huh?

“Yeah, no. Unfortunately, not. I didn’t see you in the single line?” Maybe small talk will make this experience way less awkward. 

“Yeah, my boyfriend was with me, but he chickened out at the very last second. Had to be let out but he said he’d get us some corndogs while I took a quick round.” Chris was nice, super nice. He seemed really sweet as well and as the two slowly moved then stopped every so often to let on new riders, she found herself becoming comfortable next this stranger. She had completely forgotten about her small tuff with her own boyfriend just across the way from her, but she didn’t care. She wanted a minute to herself to be in the company of someone who didn’t have a scowl on their face every second of the day. 

When the ride ended and the two strangers said their goodbyes, Brayley made her way over to Harry. It should be noted that he had witness the entire exchange between the two just moments ago and was not very thrilled at the idea of his girl talking to another man. 

That night, Harry broke three plates and five glass cups after accusing Brayley of finding her ferris wheel partner on purpose to make him jealous. She fell asleep in the guest room; too upset to sleep next to her boyfriend’s hard, whiskey-filled body, and too afraid to confront him the next morning. 

---------

9:47 pm

Harry unapologetically had watched his ex and her new man walk to the opening gate of the beach. Benny was trying to get his attention but as he pressed Harry to stand from the food truck-provided bench, he was met with a deep huff and child-like cross of the arms. A real pouter if he’d ever seen one. The two lovebirds seemed to float over the sand with hands interlocked. Slowly, she placed her opposite atop the man’s forearm. Resting it there gently, she glanced up as if to see if he was angry at the action, to see if he would pull away and scold her for touching him. But he didn’t. Instead he leaned down and placed a delicate kiss right above her brows and then another on the top of her head when she blushed furiously and looked towards the ground, biting her lip to tame the smile stretching across her now reddened face. It made Harry sick. He longed for a chance to do that with her; hold her hand and lie on the beach to watch the stars shine above. 

October 3, 2016

“Stop.” Brayley laugh at Harry’s deep tone, thought it was a playful demand. “Said stop, Brayley.” Impatient. Again, she tried slipping her hand into Harry’s to thread her thin fingers through his thick, ring-covered ones. He wasn’t best pleased at the final attempt. “Brayley! What the fuck, I said stop!”

Harry had fully turned toward his girl with arms down by his sides and fists balled. He took a threatening step forward, warning her that should she try again he would flip immediately. Brayley backed down, like a dog submitting to another to show they understand the others dominance.  “Sorry...I thought you were just messing around...”

Harry wanted to scoff at such a pathetic reply. Wanted to laugh in her face for trying to ease his anger but instead he surrendered to the fire burning hot in his chest. “You always think I’m pissing around when I’m not. You joke too fucking much and it’s annoying as hell.” With one last glare, he turned to continue down the wooden path that lead to a bench-filled side of the beach. They were to have a picnic and watch the sunset. Brayley already felt too uncomfortable to continue the night. “Sorry.” She whispered, though Harry was already several yards away. 

A little while later, when the sandwiches were devoured and lips stained red with wine, Brayley looked over to her boyfriend of two years. In her slight haze of a mind, she forgot about his flaws, how he treated her like trash and did almost everything but make her feel loved and secure. She saw him for his outward beauty. How it augmented when the sun was low enough to cast such a magnificent golden glow upon his tanned skin and made Harry close his eyes ever so softly to bask in its brilliance. 

Without much thought to anything at all, Brayley leaned over the picnic basket, closed her eyes, and pressed her cold lips to Harry’s warm ones. His eyes flew open at the sudden pressure and hands jutted to pull her away. “Brayley, are you fucking kidding me?” He seethed.

Out of breath and slightly confused on what had just happened, Bray furrowed her brows and returned to her original place on the blanket. She thought for a minute then tried her hand at reasoning. “There’s not many people around...I just wanted to give you a kiss...”

Harry was more than fed up with her excuses. “Doesn’t matter! I don’t like PDA, you know that. So why do keep trying to kiss me and hold my hand? I hate it when you do that shit in public. I told you to just fucking stop!” Properly shouting at this point, the pair caught the attention of passerby who wore sympathetic smiles, that is if they dared to look over. 

“M’sorry. Won’t do it again.” Another whisper. She was too embarrassed to look over. 

Hours pass by and the pair remained on the blue checkered blanket, but now Harry had laid down with his feet buried in the still hot sand and sweater-clad arm resting over his eyes. Brayley felt fine at this point, not as loopy as she had before; Harry’s scolding sobered her quickly. But as she watched the waves crash over and over again, she felt the breeze become more intense with the passing minutes. She took a chance at asking Harry for a bit of help. 

“H?” She tried. “Hey, Harry?”

“What?” A grumble, could’ve been worse. 

“Would it be all right if I wore your jacket...just for a little bit? I’m getting kind of cold.” To get her point across, Brayley let out a shiver and began rubbing her hands together. Harry was having none of that, his nerves were shot way too early in the day and now he was completely done. 

“Oh, you’re getting cold, huh? Didn’t I say this was gonna happen? We come to the beach at night and you think it’s gonna be like ninety degrees or some shit. I told you to bring a jacket, I told you several times, so what, now I have to be cold just because you decided to be stupid and not listen to me?”

She was too tired to argue. Tired of the way he always spoke to her and tired of the fighting. She knew if she had responded, Harry would’ve gone off and their late-night picnic on the beach would be properly ruined. So, she brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around herself before laying her right cheek against her freezing skin. Looking out into the ocean, she sent a prayer that Harry’s attitude would lighten up as quickly as the sun had set. Two hours later, she was properly shivering. Harry stood to pack up the basket and empty bottle of wine, not before commenting that her teeth chattering was the most annoying sound he’s ever heard. 

---------

2:02 am

Harry hadn’t had a proper cry in months but after doing so he felt the smallest bit better. This was what he needed; he needed to see her one more time, had to remember all that he did in order to work through that shit that was kept mudded up in his conscious for so long. He needed to cry it out. If he was ever going to get better, be better, Harry knew it was time to put Brayley Wright behind him. Not completely forget about her because being with her taught him so much, the understanding just came too late. 

Chest moving softly and slight hiccups escaping passed his lips, Harry began talking to himself. He tried to tell his mind that he was okay, that everything was going to work out no matter what, he couldn’t control fate but he could control how he lives his days from now on. As he reasoned with himself, Harry began nodding at the silent words he was thinking. He was feeling himself drift off, finally, but before sleep completely took over, Harry whispered one last line to the dark apartment bedroom: “She’s moved on. It’s time you do the same.”

[stylesvolume94]

Safeword

Same shit, different fucking day. 

Upon entering his apartment, Harry muttered this with an eye roll and huff. He drops his worn leather satchel and keys next to the small entry table, shoes and jacket following. He can smell the roast that Brayley prepared and tells himself to lighten up a bit, but his brows and full lips seem to be set in a permanent frown. 

After a long day at the office, Harry came home physically and mentally drained. He was a financial analyst since he graduated from college and was doing very well for himself, having only been there for four years. His job was demanding, and he often found himself coming back to his apartment in a foul mood. 

He'd walk through his creaky apartment door, shrug off his jacket, kick off his too-expensive work shoes, and stalk to the bedroom. He rarely stops to say hello to his girlfriend, Brayley, any more or asks how her day was, even when she prepares Harry's favorite meals and runs him a warm bath or shower. 

Today was one of those days, where Harry comes home already dreading his next workday and going over scenarios in his head about what he would say to his jackass coworkers (which makes him even angrier as the made-up storyline continues).

Harry continues through the small corridor, untucking his dress shirt with his right hand and tugging at his all too restricting tie with the left before tousling his newly cut hair with both hands to rid of his anger. Noted, he was entirely opposed to cutting his shoulder-length locks, but his boss deemed it "a bit unprofessional for the workspace, don't you think, kid?" He didn't.

Turning the corner, Harry spots Brayley setting the table, and, for some reason, he feels something deep within him that he can only guess is desire. As his gaze falls on his woman, now wiping the counters, he realizes how sexually frustrated he's been for so long, too long. He immediately starts daydreaming about how it would be should he take her right there in the kitchen; holding her up against the counter as he sucks on the delicate skin of her neck, taking her furiously from behind as she leans over the placed table, or spreading her out on the floor while she pulls his hair as viciously as she knows how. 

His visions come to an end when he hears Brayley's calm voice fill the small space. "H? Are you okay?" 

Harry could only stare at her blankly, attempting to rid the images in his worked up mind. She smiles at him. "You scared me; I didn't hear you come in. I made one of your favorites if you're hungry, and then mayb-"

"No." It came out as a grumble. A growl? He wasn't sure, and he hadn't meant to speak. Harry didn't even know he wanted to; it's as if the word just appeared. His next words, though, he thought of very carefully and with as much authority as he could gather. 

"I'm not hungry, and I know you were going to say 'maybe I could run you a bath,' but I'm not in the mood for that now. What I want,"

At this point, Harry was making his way to stand at his now-confused girlfriend's toes, leaning down so his warm breath ghosted her ear. 

"What I want is for you to get into the bedroom, strip down to nothing, and spread yourself out for me. I've had a seriously shit day, and I just really want to get inside of you tonight."

------

Any other night Brayley would find her boyfriend's dominance extremely arousing and somewhat dangerous but in the way they both like. The way that makes their relationship exciting and adventurous. Dangerous in a way that has led them to confess their desires and fantasies early on and act on them in various manners, each time going a bit further to explore their limits. 

Tonight wasn't like that. Their connection was dangerous, yes, but not in the explorative way Brayley had hoped. Tonight was seeming to turn legitimately dangerous, a kind of situation that she hadn't been in before with Harry but one that she wondered if she should stop. 

After her lover's instruction passed his lips, Brayley knew Harry was in a foul mood. His authority usually took over when he was upset or jealous, and she knew it was the former, but she couldn't get out a questioning before Harry put his hand over her mouth to silence her. I don't want to hear your fucking voice tonight unless it's screaming my name. Now go. 

Though his words were harsh, Brayley knew he was only trying to show his dominance and figured her boyfriend of three years would take care of his needs while also caring for hers. But, as the minutes progressed, she could her warning sounds going off in her head. She took note of every move Harry made that seemed just off enough for her to question his true intentions of the night. 

------

It began with his words in the kitchen, then continued when he forced her to strip in front of him, his stance threatening and features hard, arms crossed over his naked chest and feet firmly planted. She was a bit hesitant then but not enough to stop. If she were honest, she was rather wound up herself, initially. She understood his slightly exaggerated control resulted from another bad workday, thought that tonight would be a dip into pushing their limits. 

As Harry gripped her throat just tight enough for her to audibly gasp, Brayley wondered if he would take care of her needs alongside his. When he proceeded to drag her to her knees, take a rough fistful of her hair, and practically spit the single demand of Suck, she thought the answer was maybe. Thought he wanted to be more authoritative than usual, and who was she to deny his needs when he always allowed the experimenting of hers. 

It wasn't until Harry threw her onto the bed, held her hands above her head with one of his own, and roughly thrust inside that Brayley knew the 'maybe' was a definite 'no.' 

When the pair first began exploring one another's sexual desires, Harry had three rules. He would always take his time to prep her and ask if she was okay and ready before starting, and when they finished, no matter how rough the two were, Harry wouldn't let either of them fall asleep until he heard her say she was satisfied and loved him. And he was rough most of the time, yes, but he knew when care was necessary. He needed the reassurance that he hadn't gone too far. 

His third rule, Brayley feared, was about to come into play; their safeword. "No matter what we're doing or how far either of us wants to go, we use it if there's even the slightest bit of uncertainty or fear to continue. Promise me you'll use it if it ever gets to that point, and I'll promise the same. But I also promise to do everything in my power not to lose control enough for you to have to."

Harry kept his promise for two years, but when his right hand rubbing her over-stimulated nerves came up to wrap around her throat a second time, Brayley knew she had to use it. 

They both knew it had to be something utterly random so as to interrupt the mood entirely. The pair decided on 'blue.' Brayley didn't think it was very unusual, but Harry argued that 'I can't think of a single reason you would shout a color at me while I fuck you, but if you have a reason, you can change it.' She didn't have a valid reason on the spot, so they agreed on 'blue.' 

A particularly sharp thrust sent an unusual shock through her body that made Brayley grasp Harry's right forearm with both of her shaking hands after he'd released them to take hold of the headboard's thick metal bar with his left. She began panicking because not only was he not letting up after a very audible whimper of pain left her lips, but she couldn't catch her breath to tell him to stop. It took a few painful minutes for her to summon the strength to talk. 

"Hurts...s-stop...stop." Her words came out pathetically. Tears began to fall down the sides of her face, mixing with the sweat that'd formed. "Stop...blue...blue Har-"

"What'd I say 'bout talking, huh? What did I fucking say?" Harry tightened his grip on the girl underneath him as well as on the bar. His pupils blown and hair a mess as it began matting to his forehead; Harry didn't comprehend the words that he heard. He knew she spoke, but he didn't hear his name, so he figured he'd get a bit rougher. She's taking me so well right now. Maybe the limit is further than I thought. 

He choked on his next words, eyes tightly shut, and teeth bared. "I told you I don't - fuck - wanna hear you unless it's my name." He could feel the build-up at the bottom of his spine for a second time that night, could feel his girl tighten around him. 

Brayley tried desperately to calm herself, and when she felt air enter her lungs after yet another deep gasp, she shouted as loudly as she could, which wasn't very loud at all considering it was quite tearful.

"Blue, Harry! Blue!" 

------

Harry is a fragile man, a romantic one, but only towards certain people and only occasionally. To anyone else, he would come off as a hard-ass, mysterious, and somewhat intimidating person. Brayley loved that about him, though, how he was smart in choosing who to trust and when to let his guard down. 

Harry has always been affectionate towards his woman. When they became friends, he knew he could immediately trust her, and by the time they started dating, he had become a full-on softie. So when he hears her cry or finds her upset in any way, Harry instantly turns to mush. To listen to his baby in pain, of the heart or body, physically hurts him, and he turns into someone nobody but her sees. 

When his mind registered that his girlfriend, his Brayley, used their safeword for the very first time, he wasn't sure what to do. Harry stilled and stared at his lover's pain-stricken face while his right hand remained limp on her neck, and his left slid down by her head to hold himself up. 

When his eyes caught sight of faint purple prints, he felt he was going to be sick. How could you do this? How could you hurt her? Harry only looked at her as he took deep full breaths. Brayley's own hand slipped from his forearm and came to rest by her sides. 

Fisting the sheets weakly, she tried to get a sense of where she was, trying to bring herself back from what had occurred. Her eyes shut peacefully, and she was able to calm her breathing, but too often was interrupted by throbs of pain pulsing throughout her whole body. 

Admittedly, she was afraid to open her eyes and have to face the unmoving man above her. She knew he felt terrible and would apologize profusely, but she didn't want to hear any of that then, she only wanted to try and relax. Her growing tranquillity was interrupted by a shaky whimper and sudden cold on her neck from an absent hand.  

"Bray," The courage it took for Harry to open his mouth was immense, and as soon as his voice reached his ears, tears clouded his vision. 

"Bray, m'so sorry. So sorry, baby, please look at me." He was panicking, they both knew it, but this wasn't about him. 

His voice dropped to a feeble whisper. "Please open your eyes. Have to know you're okay, have to make it better, please." 

When a thick tear dropped on her face, Brayley slowly peeled her eyes open. They had met a very sad, very bright green staring at her with the utmost concern. It was her turn to whisper. 

"Haz..."

"Baby, m'sorry."

"I know...s'okay." Her voice was gentle. 

Harry began shaking his head, curls swaying, and tears still falling. 

"No! No, s'not okay, it's not. I hurt you; I hurt my girl, I-"

"Harry. I'm all right. J-just sore and...cold."

Brayley knew it wasn't all right, what he'd done, but she wouldn't admit that until later when they both had calmed entirely. If she freaked then, Harry would only become more anxious, and what she needed was someone to help her off the bed and into the bath. She was undeniably cold as sweat began to settling on her reddened skin, and she felt incredibly dirty. 

After a moment, Harry understood what Brayley needed. He had hurt and scared her, but what she needed were attention and care. He needed to make things right. 

----- 

That's how Harry found himself on the floor next to the tub, holding his woman's hand limply as he leaned his left cheek on the side. Brayley assured him he could step in with her, but he felt so guilty and was glad he was even allowed in their washroom. 

After carefully getting off the bed and into his boxers, Harry had taken Brayley to the bathroom, bridal style. She found it quite awkward, being completely naked and clammy, but Harry didn't seem phased in the slightest. He'd put her in the tub and turned on the warm water, allowing himself time to change the bedsheets, and gather up clean clothes and a towel for later. 

Upon reentry, Harry found Brayley half-submerged and resting her head on the side of the tub. When their eyes met, he immediately looked to the floor. He didn't know how he'd let himself get so angry at the outside world that he took it out on his whole world at home. She trusted him, but he was afraid she never would again.    

Harry was brought out of his head when he heard the sloshing of water and Brayley's hands come up to take hold of his face. 

"H, I know you're upset, I am too. I also know we need to talk about this, but m'too tired to have that conversation tonight." Harry's breath picked up at this, fearing she wanted to leave. 

"So," she continued, "m'gonna step out and get dressed, and I want us to sleep in our bed together, wake up together, and figure out why tonight happened, together. Because Harry, what happened happened, we can't take it back. But we can try to get through it, yeah?" 

Harry could only nod at the idea. He was so grateful in that moment, and the fear that coursed through him at the notion of discussing the night's events dissipated upon hearing her say 'together.' She spoke to him almost child-like, but he didn't care. Harry lifted his hands to lay them atop of Brayley's. 

"M'so sorry, Brayley. Truly. Never meant to harm you, swear it. I love you so much." His voice cracked, and fresh tears spilled. "You are everything to me, my whole world. Can't lose you. I promise what happened tonight won't ever happen again. I promise. I promise, Brayley. I love you. I love you." 

The last three words came out as a breath before Harry cautiously pressed his lips to his girlfriend's. Harry had a lot of apologizing ahead of him, but he respected his woman's wishes and took her to bed. Cuddling her to his chest, he thanked the heavens that Brayley was by his side, even after what he'd done. Harry had never meant for the night to turn out the way it did, and he would be damned if it ever happened again. 

[stylesvolume94]

Masterlist

Started: 7/15/20

Total Works: 9

Harry x Brayley 

Last Updated: 8/25/20

//

You’re Just Like My Dad

Harry raises his voice and his girlfriend’s children overhear

Foster Parents - Sneaking Food

Harry catches his foster son storing food for himself

Make-Up Bath: pt1

Harry fights with his girlfriend and makes up for it

Make-Up Bath: pt2

She always looked into his eyes. Always. (Part two)

Keep Your Eyes On Me: pt1 

Harry and his girlfriend end up in a bad situation 

Keep Your Eyes On Me: pt2 

Harry tries to stay calm (Part two)

Keep Your Eyes On Me: pt3

Harry had never felt weaker in his entire life (Part three)

Safeword

Brayley’s never used their safeword, until tonight. 

She’s Moved On

Harry sees Brayley for the first time in so long, and his mind tortures him with flashbacks of all his wrongdoings. 

[stylesvolume94]

Keep Your Eyes On Me : pt3

Harry heard Brayley gasp over everyone else's in the building, yet he couldn't tear his eyes from the dangerous man. He didn't know if Brayley's gasp or his own racing heart alerted the shooter, but just as quickly as he shot at the now bleeding out man, his gaze fixed on Harry's wide green eyes.

In this exact moment in time, Harry felt that he could die from the amount of fear running through his veins, but it wasn't fear for his life, it was for the only two people he cared about in the world that were sitting right in front of him.

The shooter's eyes narrowed at Harry, and his head tilted almost mockingly. If Harry were physically able to become more scared, he would've because suddenly the man smirked and started towards him.

Harry's breathing quickened, and his eyes widened even more. Brayley squeezed her eyes shut as she noticed her husband's reaction, and then she allowed tears to fall down her flushed cheeks at the sound of boots getting louder in their direction.

Upon witnessing the shooting, everyone in the bank was lying on the ground and now watching anxiously as the man stood towering over Harry. With one last smirk, the man opened his mouth.

"What exactly are you looking at, huh?" Harry couldn't find his voice. He only gaped up at the man.

"Can't speak? You know, it's rude to ignore someone when they're talking to you." Now the man was entirely taunting Harry, noticing how scared he was crouching at his feet.

Harry knew he had to speak up, or this guy would cause a much worse scene, but he could only squeak out, "Please."

An evil laugh escaped chapped, thin lips. "Please? Wow, I thought, considering the circumstances, I would get a proper answer."

Harry didn't know he could be at such a loss for words. It was as if he never learned a single one in his life. And the man knew this; he's got Harry exactly where he wants him. That's when he noticed Brayley's shift of panic. "Now, who's this?"

Harry's heart began to hammer. "Please. Please don't."

"You really don't like answering questions, huh?" The man crouched down and took hold of Brayley's arm.

Fucking do something, Harry, help her. But he couldn't move. He was in shock.

"Please. She's pregnant. Please don't hurt her." He was full-on stuttering at this point, hysteric and fearful.

"Oh, she's pregnant?" He obviously could tell there was a life growing inside the woman, but he was addicted to the fear on Harry's face. "Well, why don't we see what fun we can make of this, shall we?"

Suddenly, Brayley was on her feet, being dragged a couple of meters away from her husband. She let out a strangled shout, "Harry!"

"Please, please don't!" Why can't you fucking get up? Why can't you move?

The gun was pointed at Harry when the man spoke, "Say one more word, curly, and I put a bullet right here." When he finished his promise, the barrel rested on Brayley's abdomen.

"Now, you're going to give me your wallet and access to your account, or I will shoot this fucking woman right here and make you watch her bleed out."

Never in his life had Harry reacted so quickly to a command. The man let out a mocking sigh. "Was that so hard?"

Just as the man dropped Brayley to the floor, the bank doors flew open. Officers and SWAT members came rushing in, weapons drawn, and pointing to the six men who had now successfully retrieved half a million dollars and whatever Harry and Brayley were worth.

By this point, Brayley was full on shaking, sobbing into Harry's chest as he began crying with her, into her hair. Neither of them heard what happened next, too worked up to acknowledge anything other than their partner's terror.

Harry had never felt weaker in his entire life than he did in those last few moments. He shouldn't be crying; he should be comforting his girl and reassuring her that everything was going to be okay. He should be strong and not hiding in his wife's neck as he cries for his little family.

And while he should be thanking God for the sparring of his wife and child, the only thing running through his mind were the words he's secretly been using to describe himself for months now; worthless, unlovable, poor excuse, failure of a man, a husband, and a father.

As he sat with his two worlds wrapped tightly, protectively in his arms, he vowed he would be better. A better husband and father, a better listener and communicator, a better man.

Right as he was about to voice his promises to his wife, she gasped with her hand on her protruding stomach. Brayley turned to face Harry, and the soft words that came out were the only ones reassuring the pair that they were going to make it, "He's kicking. He's okay."

[stylesvolume94]

Keep Your Eyes On Me : pt2

Right as Bray was about to ask what was wrong, Harry leaned forward gently, eyes trained on hers, and whispered to his girl in a voice so low, only she could hear, "Keep your eyes on me."

Brayley's brows drew together even tighter at the command from her husband. She tilted her head a bit and wondered what had him so shaken. She wasn't able to ask any questions properly as Harry began to speak in a tender voice, almost as if he were talking to a frightened child.

"Just keep your eyes on me, Bray, okay? Just look at me." Harry tried his best to stay calm. If he could remain calm and get Brayley not to speak but only follow what he asked of her, maybe he could get her out before something terrible happened.

"Don't look anywhere but me, okay? I need you to listen to me very carefully. We are going to-"

Just as Harry was about to lay out his plan of escape, he noticed the men walking further into the bank. They were behind Brayley now, in the distance but close enough that the gun's outline was visible through the man's jacket.

Harry watched them with careful eyes. He figured it might be safer to exit now that they weren't near the entrance, but that thought was quickly erased as he saw three of the black-clad men draw their guns in such a way that it was only visible because Harry saw the weapon previously.

Much to Harry's horror and complete devastation, he knew he couldn't get away without being caught, and whether the men cared of anyone leaving or not, he wasn't going to risk it with his wife being pregnant. So, he had to come up with a plan B, and fast.

"Brayley," Harry breathed out, looking back at her confused face, "Please. Don't talk, okay, just do as I say, please, and I promise that everything will be fine."

"Haz...what's going on?" Bray could see the concern on Harry's face, she could feel his nervousness radiate off him and understood that something wasn't right, but she was so confused.

"Just listen. I need you to get on your knees, all right, slowly. I need you to look at me and get on the ground." Harry didn't stray away from his girls' eyes.

"Harry-"

"Brayley. Please."

The complete fear in his voice made Brayley's eyes widen. She hadn't seen him so scared, so flustered and urgent with only a few words. In a split second, she knew. She knew this was the bad of the day; this was the bad that she knew was going to happen. And it was, at this very moment.

"Okay."

As the pair carefully sunk to the ground, Harry shifted his glance to Beatrice, who looked to understand the severity of the situation as she too noticed the men in black. With one last shift of her eyes, Beatrice flew to the floor in hiding. Harry looked down at his wife, seeing her hands were shaking. He took them in his trembling own.

"Hey, look at me, baby," It had been quite some time since she's heard that nickname pass his lips. "I'm here, and I'm going to protect you, I swear it. I just really need you to stay calm and listen to me, yeah?"

Brayley nodded, not having the strength to answer for fear of crying and drawing attention to them. She took her hands out of Harry's, and instinctively placed them on her protruding stomach. Harry noticed her movement, and a tear came to his eye. He moved the both of them, slowly, out of view from the men before proceeding to speak delicately to his scared woman.

"You know that I would never let anything happen to our baby. Never. I'm going to get us out of this, all right? Just stay with me, stay looking at me, baby."

Harry moved to look around the desk corner and saw the men standing less than fifteen feet from where they were. They were robbing the joint at that very moment, but they were quiet. Their guns were out on the counter, pointing at the teller as she took out stacks of bills from the under-the-counter safe. If everyone just stayed quiet and calm, Harry thought, then maybe they will get what they came for and leave.

But of course, that can't happen.

The same man who had made a fuss about his void check came barreling back into the building from behind Harry. As he began yelling about how his teller was mistreating him, the group's assumed leader whipped his head around. In one swift motion, the man drew his gun from the counter and shot the customer in the thigh, making him scream in pain and fall to the floor.

Harry heard Brayley gasp over everyone else's in the building, yet he couldn't tear his eyes from the dangerous man. He didn't know if Brayley's gasp or his own racing heart alerted the shooter, but just as quickly as he shot at the now bleeding out man, his gaze fixed on Harry's wide green eyes.

[stylesvolume94]

Keep Your Eyes On Me : pt1

Nobody ever knows when something terrible is going to happen; never truly knows. They can have a hunch or very accurate guess, but not a definite answer. Because something could go extremely right at the last second, or that bad thing could be a blessing in disguise.

This is Brayley's way of thinking. She likes to think the world is a happy place, just misguided; people are not born evil but just need someone to love. Bray never thinks that something unfortunate would happen to her just because or just out of the blue.

Her mother became extremely sick one day, and a trip to the hospital revealed she was in the early stages of cancer. A bad thing happened, but that visit caught the sickness in time, and now her mother is twelve years cancer-free.

Her dream college declined her, the only one she applied to, and by the time she found out, it was too late to apply to another school. A bad thing happened, but that gap year was nothing but productive and adventurous for her.

Bryce, her best friend, got knocked out during his soccer match, and she was his emergency contact who had to visit him in the ER. A bad thing happened, but that's where she met her then-boyfriend, Harry, who accidentally put him there.

Bad things happen, but nobody could ever just predict it. Brayley has stood by this way of thinking her entire life. How could someone just know? They can't; she refuses to believe it.

Of course, until that way of thinking is challenged.

------

"I have to go to the bank," Brayley muttered.

She got a snappy reply. "Then go."

"Seriously, Harry? I'm too tired to fight right now, okay? Please, could you just drive me? I'll be two seconds."

"It takes you five minutes just to get out of the car," Harry grumbled, "It'll take two hours, not two seconds."

"Harry. Please."

At that, Harry huffs a dramatic amount to show Brayley how tired and irritable he was. Nonetheless, he rises from his spot on the couch to retrieve his jacket and boots from the closet by the front door. Brayley followed behind her husband, waddling down the front steps of their walk-up apartment cautiously, as she was eight months pregnant.

When Harry and Brayley got married, they wanted to try for a baby, but they agreed to wait several months to adjust to their new lives and get every bit of paperwork out of the way before bringing a life into the world. Two months later, the pair found out they were four weeks pregnant. Brayley was ecstatic, and Harry was...happy.

He was happy, he'd always wanted to be a father, but the timing didn't feel right. He knew it was his fault that she was with child as she couldn't necessarily do it all herself. Harry just wished he had been more careful. Ever since the baby was announced to the pair, something in their lives seemed off.

Brayley feels alone more often than not, and she hates it. She keeps telling herself that this is the bad with which she is familiar. This is the bad, and the baby's birth in only a few weeks will be the good. She and Harry will be like they used to before the announcement, and he'll finally see how big a blessing their child is.

Brayley awoke with a headache, a sharp pain in her lower back, and a space beside her in bed. Standing under the warm water, she paused mid-shampoo. Brayley felt weird; she felt off. She didn't sense anything wrong physically, but she had a bad feeling.

Something terrible was going to happen. Brayley was positive.

------

"Do you need me to go in with you?" Harry didn't look at his wife as he pulled into a parking space at their banking facility; he kept his eyes forward.

"If you don't mind," Brayley mumbled, "I want to play it safe in case something happens."

"Like what?"

"I don't know...something bad maybe. I don't want to risk anything happening and not have you there with me." At this point, she was desperate. Brayley needed her husband with her; she didn't feel right.

"Since when do you feel that something bad is going to happen?" Harry looked over at his wife for the first time since they left the apartment.

"I don't know. I've never felt this way before, but I just had a feeling when I was in the shower." Bray glanced at Harry through her lashes and curly brown hair.

Harry furrowed his brows at the concern in his wife's voice. "Okay." He acknowledged, undoing his belt and stepping out of the car to open Brayley's door and help her into the building.

------

"How are you today, Mrs. Styles?" The couple's teller was a young woman of pale skin, green eyes, and auburn hair. Brayley always thought she would make a great actress or performer of some type; her features were too beautiful only to be seen in a bank.

"Fine, Beatrice, thank you. And yourself?" Brayley heard Harry sigh at the conversation-starter that she always used, being far too polite to answer with only the one word.

"Great, thanks! Mr. Styles." The fair woman nodded in Harry's direction as she waited for Brayley's information to load on the monitor in front of her.

"Beatrice." His reply was short and chipped; he wasn't in the mood for an hour-long visit.

"Okay, Mrs. Styles, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

"I had a few questions about my savings account and our joint one. I was wondering..."

Harry had drifted off at the mention of questions; knowing his wife, there were plenty more than 'just a few.' His eyes started to wander around the open space, enjoying how bright and spacious the room was. Harry thinks being cooped up at home, working long hours, and repeating was doing more damage than good, so he was happy to see faces other than just one in particular.

He noticed the windowpanes needed cleaning. The giant rug in the waiting area had its corners dangerously folded over, and finally, that a way-too loud man was scolding his teller for not allowing him to cash a void check.

Harry turned to watch the steady flow of people enter and exit the building. At this point, he had wholly drowned out his wife, though he knows by now that she was on her fifth question while Beatrice was too invested in her job to care.

Harry liked to people watch, so it was only a matter of time before he began observing the crowd. He noticed mostly men in suits walking in and women with young children. Oh, in came a woman with a dog in a stroller; odd.

But what caught Harry's attention was a group of six men in all black attire wearing baseball caps and sunglasses. Two of the men were holding deflated duffle bags, and the other four had their hands in the jacket pockets.

Harry's breath hitched, and his heart skipped at the looks of them, they didn't seem right. The men didn't yell, didn't order for people to get on the ground as Harry expected; they simply walked in and examined the space.

One of the men, substantially built and incredibly tall, removed his hands from his jacket to scratch at the stubble on his chin. That's when Harry noticed the dark, seemingly hard looking object poking from the man's waist. A gun.

The men still hadn't made a noise; they weren't drawing attention to themselves, and Harry wondered; if they were a threat, had they come up with a plan? Were they going to hurt someone, rob the place, scare people into submission?

He wasn't sure. But one thing he was one-hundred percent certain of, was that his wife was next to him in this potentially dangerous situation...and she was carrying his unborn child. When this truth crossed Harry's mind, he slowly turned to his wife, interrupting her question about mortgage payments.

"Oh, okay. So, if, in say, five years from now, we successfully own a house, how would-"

"Brayley." Harry murmured, trying his best to keep his voice low but imperative.

Brayley looked up at her husband. "Sorry, H, I'm almost done. I just have a couple more-"

"Brayley." She immediately stopped talking at the seriousness in his voice. Looking up into his green eyes, she saw fear and urgency flood through them and realized his chest was moving faster than she remembered. Her eyebrows drew together.

Right as Bray was about to ask what was wrong, Harry leaned forward gently, eyes trained on hers, and whispered to his girl in a voice so low, only she could hear, "Keep your eyes on me."

[stylesvolume94]

Make-Up Bath: pt2

"If it's all right with you, I will apologize and make it up to you starting tomorrow. But, right now, would you do me the honor of taking a bath with me?"

Brayley looked up at him, slightly shocked but mostly relieved. She hated fighting, and this silent treatment game Harry had played at was agonizing. Of course, she wanted his apology and explanations, but the look in his eye and tenderness in his voice was all too alluring. So, once those words passed his lips, she was quick to whisper out a "Yes, of course," to the thought of finally being close to her boyfriend again.

They walked down the hall into their master bathroom - albeit it was the only bathroom in the apartment, but Brayley liked the sound of that title - wordlessly, yet it was a comfortable silence, none of that awkward egg-shell-walking that had endured.

After starting the bath with steamy water, the two were slow to undress one another, slow but sensual, upon entering the washroom. Harry watched with careful eyes as Brayley lifted his shirt from his torso and dropped it delicately next to the sink. As he reciprocated the action, a blush ran from her cheeks down to the small of her back at his tenderness. And, of course, he couldn't help but smirk at how much more intense that blush became when his girl reached out to pull down his black athletic shorts and boxers at the same time.

Harry had been with his share of women before Brayley. He didn't date around, he'd only been in two relationships, but neither lasted more than three months. For him, he had been a hookup type of guy, one-night stands and quickies in any facility bathrooms.

He was used to having women stare at him, neck down, and he told himself that he liked that. He didn't mind that they never looked him in the eyes, that they never asked if he was okay with what they were doing or even see if he was enjoying the activity. He got used to pleasure, but he was still somewhat new to love.

Being with Brayley was entirely different. She was everything he hadn't experienced with those other women. They were all rushed hands, sharp nails that dug deep, and gritted teeth as they demanded more from him. Brayley was nothing like that.

She was gentle to touch him, slow and careful as if to check if he genuinely wanted her in that way. Her hands were always soft, and her smile even more so. She had a habit of brushing his curls from his face and behind his ear, all while staring right into his eyes.

She always looked into his eyes. Always. To her, it was her way of telling him everything without saying a word. He was new to that connection; it made his heart speed up as his green locked with her brown. They were both entirely captivated by one another, in their very first moments together, and now.

When she took down his bottom clothing, her eyes never strayed from his. Her blush stayed, as well, and when the fabric fell to the floor in an airy gasp, Harry felt her love. He was used to being gripped immediately when his clothes were torn off; he was new to being stared at as if they indeed were the only two in the world.

The first time they saw one another bare was a moment Harry would never forget. Firstly, because he hadn't seen anyone so beautiful in his life, and secondly because of her anxiousness. To him, that wasn't a bad thing, nothing to be ashamed of; he was quite intrigued by her nervousness, he hadn't experienced that before in a woman.

When he stared at her that first time, her eyes welled with tears. She never made a sound, but her vulnerability was genuine. He remembers his eyes racking over the slightly asymmetric curves of her breasts, her full hips. How her most private areas were paler than the rest of her body, how her thighs touched, and her hipbones buried beneath the bit of fat on her lower belly; she was real.

He hadn't been with anyone that wasn't wholly tan and toned all over. Models. Those are the kinds of women he was always with, and of course, there was nothing wrong with those types of women, but something about Brayley's imperfect body made him feel vulnerable; because to him, she was the epitome of perfection.

When he saw her tears, he vowed to remind her of her beauty everyday, intimate state, or not. He never wanted her uncomfortable around him; he never wanted her to feel she had to hide her body from his eyes. So, just as she stares at him and brushes his hair, he stared into her when he removes the last bit of clothing.

She doesn't tense up or cry when she's exposed to him anymore, but she always feels that bit of nervousness, afraid that someday he might not like what he sees when she's bare. That day hasn't yet come.

When Harry reached around to unclasp her bra in their dimly lit and slightly foggy bathroom, his eyes stayed on hers. When he trailed his fingertips down her sides, hooked his thumbs underneath the thin fabric, and knelt before her to remove her panties, lifting one leg at a time and placing a kiss to each thigh, he never looked anywhere else.

He loved this kind of intimacy, was enthralled by it. Not to say that they haven't gotten carried away and had a few moments of fast-paced, messy lovemaking, but he would much rather take his time loving on his woman.

Upon standing and taking Brayley's delicate hands into his large ones, Harry led them over to the tub. Turning off the water, he stepped in first and helped Bray step over the edge. Before turning her around and guiding them to sit in the hot water, Harry took Brayley's face into his hands and kissed her. His stomach tightened, and his brows furrowed at the feeling of his lips on hers. Brayley was quick to move her hands to his hair as if to hold him in place and not let him disconnect.

They weren't rushed, but they've had gentler kisses. This was one of desire, need, and desperation, yet Harry knew he didn't want to take it a step further that night; he had his apologies to give verbally before he could do so physically. With that thought, he slowly pulled away, eyes still closed savoring the moment.

As they laid in the water, Brayley between Harry's legs and leaning against his chest, Harry kissed her shoulder. They didn't talk; they were too exhausted and comfortable to do so, but they understood the delicate moment they were sharing.

That week had been horrible for them. Between the yelling, anger, and then long silence, Harry and Brayley wanted to relish the moment of pure love and adoration. They stayed in that tub until Harry felt the sudden heaviness of Brayley's sleeping figure and realized that the water had turned cold. He didn't want to move, but he knew that the water would get uncomfortable soon, so he proceeded to wake his girl gently for the pair of them to dry off and go to their warm bed.

As Harry had Brayley wrapped in his arms under the covers, he in a new pair of boxers and she in a black faded shirt of his, he sighed. He knew of his stubbornness and impatience, and that if he wanted, he could have gone longer than a week of ill emotion. But Harry didn't want to; he never wanted to go through a week such as that again. He felt detached from his girl; he felt space between them that, if not resolved, could have broken the pair apart for good.

So he held her tighter, kissed her soft and frizzy-from-the-steam hair a few more times, before drifting off himself, the anger and chicken pasta dinner forgotten. Harry and Brayley slept through the night and into the early morning of the following day, where he finally gave his apologies, verbally and physically.

[stylesvolume94]

Make-Up Bath: pt1

Tired. That's what Harry is; he's tired. Physically and mentally, Harry is completely done with how his entire week has panned out.

It started on Monday when he woke up late because he forgot to set his alarm and, in his rushing around and loss of patience, he blamed Brayley for not reminding him the night previous to set his phone to six in the morning.

There was a bit of tension on Tuesday as Harry hadn't apologized for his temper the day before. Brayley didn't particularly enjoy confrontation., so she decided to try and move on. That night, Harry didn't speak a word during dinner.

Wednesday had been the worst of the week. Harry woke with a headache and nausea around two in the morning. He ran to the bathroom to get sick, which then woke Brayley. She quickly grabbed him a bottle of water and medicine before wetting a washcloth to run over Harry's hot skin of his naked back and forehead.

Running on four hours of sleep, Harry was determined to get to the studio and finish a writing session with his band. He loved the days they got just to write, but that day, he was getting sick every two hours. To top off his anger toward his sickness, Brayley was texting him non-stop to ask if he was feeling well or to see if he needed her to pick him up.

When he got home, Brayley had homemade chicken soup already served, but Harry didn't think he could keep it down; he just wanted to sleep. He could hear Bray pleading with him to eat because she knew he didn't while at the studio. This only heightened his anger and made him slam the bedroom door shut to signal the conversation was over.

Thursday and Friday, the pair never said a word to each other. Harry couldn't get into work because of his being sick, and Bray decided to leave him be if he was so irritable. She did, however, make him tea and food with some pain pills set out, she wasn't a complete monster.

Now it's Saturday. Neither had to work weekends, so that time was meant for any activity that got them out of the house. Brayley didn't see them going out, though, or even conversing for that matter.

Harry seemed to be doing better by lunch and decided to sit on the balcony off the living room to catch his breath. He wanted to be angry; he tried to be angry because that meant he could avoid feeling tired or sad or, most of all, being filled with regret for his behavior.

He stayed on that balcony for hours, just watching the world carry on. He could hear Brayley cleaning the house and cooking dinner from how tiny their apartment was, and it's layout of almost no dividing walls. The regret had settled, but in his last few minutes outside, it grew significantly stronger.

Upon entering the apartment, he could tell how upset and anxious Brayley was by how clean the apartment looked and smelled. She cleaned when she had negative feelings and emotions to cope and give her something to do. This time, there was no trace of a single dirt particle in the entire living space, and the smell of lemon disinfectant was near impossible to miss.

Letting out a deep breath, Harry walked over to where Bray was finishing serving two plates of chicken pasta and wrapped his arms around her waist. She was surprised at the action and seemed to freeze at the contact she hadn't felt the past week. Harry took another breath at the relief and comfort that flooded through his veins at having his girlfriend back in his arms.

"Love," Harry whispered, "I don't know how to begin apologizing to you for everything that happened this week. But, trust me when I say, I will make it up to you."

Harry gently took the pasta dish out of Brayley hands and set it on the table, turning her around to face him while leaning slightly against the surface.

"I am so sorry. Truly. I have a lot of emotions and words flooding my head right now, and I don't want to say the wrong thing. I'm extremely tired, but I want to be near you. I always want you; this week was a terrible one for both of us, and I'm sorry."

With one more breath, he asked, "If it's all right with you, I will apologize and make it up to you starting tomorrow. But, right now, would you please just take a bath with me?"

[stylesvolume94]

Foster Parents - Sneaking Food

Ryder-8

"I tried to get him into the bath again, H, and he scratched me this time. He just kept scratching until I let him go, and he ran to his room. I found him under the bed, he was still naked, and he was crying, and I don't know what to do, H, what do we do? How do we get through to him? What do we-"

"Love...I need you to calm down, okay? He's still adjusting. It will take time for him to trust us fully. It'll get better, but it has to get a bit worse before then, ya know?"

After minutes of saddened silence, Brayley decided to tell her husband about her morning experience with their foster son, Ryder, over the packing of dinner leftovers. Ryder had eaten only three bites of his grilled chicken, half of his green beans, and left the sweet potatoes untouched before sprinting up to his room without a word.

He hadn't talked all day. The night previous, he had wet the bed and Brayley found him hiding under his covers, shaking and wet from his torso to his knees. When she tried to get him in the bath, he cried and scratched at Brayley until she set him down where he escaped down the hall. Ryder was terrified of baths and even more so since he ruined his sheets.

His birth mother found him in soaked clothes once and went to bathe him. The difference between the two was that Brayley didn't drag him by his hair into the washroom. And she definitely didn't hold him underwater until he was almost unconscious to "teach him a lesson." There are so many every-day tasks that Ryder is terrified of, and it usually takes both Brayley and Harry being there for him to understand that it's not a punishment.

"I know. The transition for him was just so fast. I'm afraid it was too overwhelming. I mean, he's never known love or care. He's never known what it's like to have loving parents, H. I just want to help him."

"I know, baby. I do, too; you know that. How about I go check up on him while you finish packing up and then in, say, twenty minutes we'll both be there to get him in bed, yeah?"

"Yeah...yeah, all right."

Harry kissed his wife on the temple before stalking through his house to the stairway. He sighed and ran his hand over his face, not tired but worried for his small boy.

When Harry and Brayley first saw Ryder, they knew he was meant to be with them. They saw how tiny and innocent the boy looked with his shaggy blonde hair and grey eyes, and decided right then that they wanted to foster him. They wanted to show this boy love and care for him in the way he should've been his whole life.

After years of fertility struggles, the couple thought they weren't meant to have a child by blood but rather to foster and hopefully adopt to save them from the system. Once their eyes landed on the eight-year-old little boy, they felt nothing but admiration and the overwhelming need to protect him forever.

Upon reaching Ryder's bedroom door, Harry took a deep breath before knocking as gently as possible, knowing Ryder was still awake and not wanting to scare him.

"Ry? Can I come in, babe?"

Harry didn't hear anything on the other end, so he cracked the door to look in. He saw Ryder sitting on his twin bed, holding his stuffed lion in his left arm, and scribbling a crayon over a coloring page with his opposite hand.

The sight made Harry smile softly. The lion was a gift when the couple first met Ryder, and the coloring book and crayons were part of his homecoming presents.

Harry opened the door enough for him to step in as Ryder's head snapped up, eyes wide when he curled into himself suddenly.

"Hey, buddy. You left dinner pretty quick. Did you get enough to eat?"

Harry spoke softly but Ryder didn't answer. He only stared at Harry before glancing toward his nightstand, his breath coming out in deeper puffs. Harry took a few steps inside the room.

"Are you still hungry? Bray's got some cookies in the kitchen. I can go with you, and we can have a cookie, yeah? Watch a movie, maybe, the three of us?"

Ryder's eyes locked onto Harry's, fright evident in them as his body tensed even more when Harry sat next to him. The bed creaked, and a few crayons rolled at the sudden dip. Harry saw how Ryder shifted uncomfortably, his eyes going back to the stand, and figured he thought Harry was upset about the bedwetting.

"All right. That's all right, babe."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes; Harry staring at the boy while Ryder kept his gaze on the bottom drawer of his nightstand that was slightly ajar.

Suddenly, Ryder kicked out his foot and closed the drawer the rest of the way. He seemed panicked and frozen as he clutched the stuffed lion with both arms tightly, hiding his face in its mane.

Harry's brows raised at the abrupt action and he tilted his head for a better view of Ryder's fearful face. Sliding off the bed and down on one knee, Harry opened the drawer to reveal it filled with food.

Ryder had stashed packets of goldfish and pretzels, candy bars, packaged bread, even cans of corn and peaches that Brayley thought she lost two weeks ago.

"Ry," Harry sighed and was about to ask why he snuck the food when he saw silent tears pouring down Ryder's flushed face.

"Hey, that's all right. Have you been taking these from the pantry?" The boy didn't answer. Instead, his eyes followed Harry as he slowly slid back onto the bed.

"You know, Ryder, you don't have to sneak food. You can come to Brayley or me and ask for a snack if you're hungry." Harry's voice hadn't strayed from its soft, comforting tone.

Ryder's eyes kept their shape while Harry looked towards the drawer. "These aren't very good snacks, anyways, bud. Here, let me show you something."

Harry reached down and grabbed the pack of bread with only four slices left, yet he knew it had to have gone bad just by its look. He turned the bag over so the date appeared and held it gently in front of Ryder.

Pointing at the bag, Harry explained, "Do you see these numbers? This is an expiration date. It's to make sure the food is still good, but once this date is gone, it isn't too good anymore. Okay?"Ryder nodded, shifting his gaze to Harry's face, a bit taken aback by his tone.

"How about, we throw these out. Tomorrow, you and me, we can sit down and make a list of some snacks you like, yeah? And then we can go to the store and pick them up. How does that sound?"

Ryder nodded quickly, both at the prospect of receiving foods he liked and the fact that he wasn't being scolded or screamed at for secretly hiding food from his foster parents.

"If there's something you want that we don't have here, you can tell Bray or me, all right? We want to make sure you have foods you like here. And, while we're at the store, we can pick up some yummy desserts, huh?"

Harry smirked, trying to get Ryder to smile and loosen up. The tactic seemed to work as the child lifted his face and whispered a response to test Harry's still warm mood.

"Chocolate pie..."

Harry didn't think the relief that flooded through his body and the smile on his lips could grow any bigger. He let out a laugh, and Ryder's lips twitched up into a small grin.

"You like that chocolate pie from last week?" Ryder nodded quickly. "Then, we'll pick out the biggest and chocolatiest pie we can find."

At that, Ryder let out a joyful, yet small, laugh having thought the word 'chocolatiest' was his new favorite. Harry didn't think he could be any more proud of that little laugh. He gently turned and held his hand out for Ryder to take. The boy hesitantly put his palm against Harry's and looked up into his loving green eyes.

As Harry began to speak, he wiped his thumb under Ryder's eyes to rid his tears. "You're a good boy, Ry. Brayley and I are here for you, always. You can come to us with anything you need, okay, bud?"

Just as Ryder acknowledged Harry's promise, Brayley walked through the doorway. Ryder knew this meant bedtime, so he started slipping under the covers as Harry moved his coloring supplies to the floor.

Brayley closed the thick, cream-colored curtains and turned on the small lamp before kneeling beside the bed. Harry joined her, and the two tucked Ryder in, stroking his hair lightly and smiling to calm any nerves that might remain.

Harry kissed the child's temple and stroked his cheek before speaking. "We love you, Ryder. So much. Have a goodnight, bug." He kissed him once more for good measure. "Goodnight, sweetheart," Brayley whispered. Kissing his cheek and rubbing his back before the pair stood to leave the room.

Bray knew not to close the door at night completely and left it open just enough for him to slip through if he needed. With one last look, they saw Ryder staring at them from where he lay comfortable in the sheets. His little hand poked out, and he waved at his parents, whispering the lightest, "Goodnight," at the two.

Harry and Brayley smiled fondly at Ryder as he closed his eyes and slowly drifted to sleep. They knew that Ryder was going to be a challenging boy to get through to, yet didn't know how they could love him more in that moment.

[stylesvolume94]

You’re Just Like My Dad

Ryder - 8 / Deacon - 5 / Gracie - 4 / Cash - 3

The day had started and was coming to an end, just like any other. Harry came back from the studio exhausted but thrilled to be home, and Brayley watched the kids. Nothing more to say; all was well in the couple's shared apartment. That is, until the end of dinner.

The children finished and took care of their dishes before running to the living room for their hour of TV before bed. Taking advantage of the privacy, Harry had pulled Brayley aside to explain how he had work duty's that upcoming Monday and "won't be able to join the family for Deacon's match."

"I just don't understand what the big deal is. It's a football game, Bray, I've gone to his first few. This is a big meeting with big people; you want me to just cancel for a five-year-old’s football game?" Harry felt his muscles tense at how his intended short conversation turned into a lecture.

"It's a soccer game, Harry." Brayley rolled her eyes. She continued under her breath. "You confuse the kids when you say football."

"Oh, excuse me. I apologize. Didn't know it was such a big fucking deal that I call it football, for fuck's sake." As he muttered the last three words as low as his temper could muster, Brayley's brows drew, and her back straightened in anger.

"Don't curse at me."

"Then don't give me a reason to!" Harry threw his hands up, his voice coming out much louder than he meant, but he couldn't help it, he was getting pissed.

"Lower your voice." Brayley sighed. "I am trying to explain to you that Deacon wants you at his game. It's forty-five minutes, Harry, and they're children! He wants you to be there; he wants to know you care."

"So me not going to a match means I don't care about the kids? That's what you're telling me?" Harry could feel his patience wearing thin the farther along the conversation went. He crossed his heavy arms over his chest, squeezing his fists to keep his temper to a minimum.

Brayley could see how frustrated he was becoming and exhaled defeatedly. She wasn't about to take this any further. If he didn't want to go to the game, fine. If he found meetings and studio time more important than the boy's scrimmage...well, it actually was, but the fact of the matter is that he doesn't see the issue in missing the game.

When Brayley's husband left his family, the children developed significant trust issues with any male figure; once Harry came along, they wouldn't talk to him for months. After over a year of dating, Brayley asked Harry to stay with them, to move in. She was hesitant, of course, but as the kids started to warm up to him, Harry began sleeping over and eventually staying for days at a time.

The kids loved Harry by the time he moved in permanently and wanted his attention always. They would ask him to play outside, take them to dinner, go to the beach for the weekend, and go on road trips so that they could be with him for an extended time. Harry, being the absolute sweetheart he is, never said no to their requests.

He got up an hour earlier than everyone in the house just to make breakfast. He left notes in the drawer for Bray to put in their school lunches. He took them to the studio so they could see what he did each day. And, he played soccer with them every afternoon for as long as they wanted.

That's how Deacon got into his recreational children's team in the community, with Harry's help and constant encouragement. That's also why him missing the next scrimmage was quite the problem.

"You know what. Don't come; I'll make up an excuse as to why you chose not to support him, like always." Brayley, though tired of the arguing, spat the words at the man in front of her, hoping he understood how angry and hurt she was.

She turned to walk down the hallway of the apartment toward the bedroom, but Harry wasn't having it. His hand jutted out and wrapped around Brayley's small wrist, making her halt and tense at the sudden pressure.

Harry's voice was low and threatening as he spoke.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you."

"Let go of me. Now." Bray began to feel her nerves heighten, her heart speed up slightly, and her breathing becoming heavy. She wasn't scared of Harry, he never did anything to make it so, but she was nervous. His grip didn't lighten up, and she could hear how his breathing started to match hers.

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you!" Harry yelled.

"No, you're trying to piss me off! And it's working! Now let me go, Harry." Brayley twisted out of his grip and didn't get more than two steps before his voice come out the loudest she's ever heard it.

"I said, don't you fucking walk away from me, Brayley!"

The whole house seemed to grow silent. The only sound being Harry's heaving puffs of air as he tried to calm himself. Brayley turned to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide, and mouth agape.

She went to tell Harry off when she heard a sniffle from behind him. She knew Harry heard, as well, when his face fell and flushed in shame.

Brayley leaned to her left to look around Harry's muscled torso, only to see all four of her kids in the kitchen entrance with teary eyes and frightened postures. Harry finally turned toward the children, his eyes becoming wet themselves at the sight of four saddened faces, knowing he was the reason for their tears and the immediate tension in the small space.

He didn't know what to say. He had never yelled at Brayley before and definitely not in front of the kids. Sure they've argued but not to that degree. His glossy green eyes took in each of the small bodies that remained unmoving in the entryway.

Deacon was hugging his stuffed puppy as he stood next to his younger sister, Gracie, who was clutching just as tightly to her purple and green blanket. Cash had tears streaming down his reddened face and cried silently into Ryder's pajama pants. Ryder stood in front of his siblings protectively and glared at Harry as if it were possible to kill him with his angry and tearful eyes.

Harry felt small standing next to his girlfriend of two and a half years and only a couple of feet away from her children. He knew how the man before him treated his family; he knew of his anger issues and drinking problems. Knew how he left Brayley alone with the children and didn't show nearly as much affection as a child needed.

And knowing that these young kids just heard and saw him not only raise his voice but put his hands on their mother, made Harry feel sick.

Harry lifted his head from where it was hung in shame to begin apologizing profusely when Ryder's small voice carried throughout the room in a blatant declaration, one that made Brayley's eyes widen and Harry's heart drop to his feet.

"You're just like my dad."