Lookedlikeanamericansinger - Martina

I’ll Crawl Home to Her

After a long day, all Peter wants is a bit of love and someone to take care of him.

PAIRING: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3k

CONTENT: they’re 18+, fluff, nsfw, oral (m), light sub/dom, soft smut, mentions of violence, injuries + blood, thigh riding, cleaning wounds, bit of plot (?)

NOTES: inspired after the scene where Peter goes to Gwen’s place. And I should have proof read this more but I really wanted to get this out asap!

The tapping sound was faint, almost inaudible and would have been mistaken for tree branches rattling together or the traffic lights swaying in the breeze had it not been insistent. It began from the base of the window by her bed, becoming increasingly louder, slicing through the night.

The latches popped open, the window being pushed open with a hand restricted from view as a thudding sound echoed throughout the room.

The action would have been concerning for anyone but her.

Instead, she rolled out of bed, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and shuffled closer to the window. She kicked over the black bag that was tossed to the ground before looking out.

“Sorry,” Peter rasped, smiling weakly as his mouth hung open. “Wasn’t trying to be that loud.”

Peter crouched on the fire escape that wrapped around the apartment building. The soft moonlight caressed his face, hidden and shining through his hair along with the nearby multicoloured lights that reflected off the nearby bulletin boards.

There was a monochromatic beauty of the moon that the sun could never offer: the return of Peter.

“Oh, Pete,” she sighed, worried that he was maskless. Her focus latched onto the blood coating the side of his face, matting his hair to his head and the gashes and tears through his suit.

“Been a long night,” he tried to joke, shifting and climbing through the window.

She wrapped her hands around him when he came in, limping and nearly falling over. She observed him, searching for any other injuries as Peter leaned into her touch.

Peter always did this, refused to go to the hospital in fear of revealing identity. She saw what the world didn’t get to. They saw Spider-man, an invincible being, undoubtedly brave with superhuman strength and intelligence. But she saw Peter Parker: a boy battered and bruised, soft and shy — limbs pliable as clay every night.

It was a privilege knowing Peter, one that was filled with the purest of love and devotion but frightening, darkened by the fear that he may meet his match one day.

No matter how many times he managed to find his way back to her like this, it never failed to bring an overwhelming terror to wash over her, having to stifle the onslaught of tears.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed. “It’s not that bad. I’m fine. You know I heal unnaturally fast.”

She bit her cheek, nodded stiffly and led Peter into the bathroom to run a bath.

As softly as possible, she tried to peel his suit off him and lowered him in the tub. He hissed and grunted, pain etched into his face as the sensitive wounds met the warm water.

She knelt on the cold tiles, bending over the bath, wiping away the blood with wet cloths, washing away the dirt, blood and grim as Peter tried to prevent soap from entering the open wounds. He hissed through clenched several times as she lifted the alcohol-soaked rag to the cuts.

Thankfully, Peter eventually relaxed. A continuous murmur of ‘thank you’s’ left his lips was mixed in with the running tap. His head rested against the cool titles and raised white ridge of the bath as he watched her with a soft glance.

“You’re the best,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up until noticing her expression.

Her mouth hadn’t shifted from the fine line it had set itself when she first saw his condition.

She doesn’t ask what happened, she rarely does these days, but it doesn’t stop the worry that ate away at her. And by the look of these wounds, there was no doubt he had been in a grave situation.

“Stop it,” he tried, hoping to halt her movements. “Hey — Woah — easy there.”

His hand, wet with soapy water lifted to cup her cheek and forced her to hold his gaze. “I’m fine. I’m here.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, forcing on a little smile while soaking in his touch. “I’m just… I’m always so worried.”

There was something unreadable that crossed Peter.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, kissed the tip of his nose and got up, albeit with a whine of protest from Peter, leaving to reach for the mirror cabinet to grab the first aid kit. “You never have to apologize for quite literally saving New York.”

There was a slight chuckle, followed by the splashing of water that had her whipping her head.

“Woah!” She exclaimed, rushing up to Peter who had stood by himself, grabbing his robe with wobbly legs. “Easy there, bug boy. No responsibilities for you tonight. Let me take care of you.”

Guiding him back to their bed, Peter winced as he lowered himself down, sinking into the fluffy bedding and pillows, drowning in his robe but managed to keep one hand on her thigh.

Dabbing on antibiotic ointments before applying little bandaids on top of cuts, she was acutely aware of Peter’s unwillingness to let her go, not even for a moment.

“Mm,” he said, a bit distressed as the antibiotics stung him. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Was missing you. Makes me feel like you’re close to me.”

She continued to work in silence, smiling every once in a while and Peter’s soft gaze never left her face.

“Penny for your thoughts, Spidey?”

“Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.”

He found purchase on her hips and waist, tugging her close. His grip was a little too hard, but her heart bubbled with a sense of fondness. He always underestimated and forgot his strength and capabilities when he got overwhelmed.

She placed a kiss on top of the last bandaid placed. His skin was littered with scars; some old, some new, some still a deep red, some healed. But it didn’t make him any less beautiful or worthy. Gently hooking a finger under his chin, pulling him to her lips, focusing all her unexpressed love and adoration she felt for him.

Her movements stilled. “Do you know how much I love you?” She blurted out.

Peter smiled bashfully. “I might have a clue.”

Pushing the first aid kit to the side to properly straddle him, her hands ran through his hair, making Peter groan as he melted into the bed.

“How about you? Do you know how much I love you?”

She grinned cheekily. “I think I need a reminder.”

Leaning forward, their noses touched, and Peter’s smile grew wide as his head began to shake a little. He was so warm, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling into every small kiss, finding solace in the knowledge he was home once more.

“I love you,” he whispered into the night. “I can’t believe you’re real. You’re so perfect.”

Her skin heated, heart swooning and Peter shyly ducked his face down before wincing when he shifted. It broke their comfortable silence, sending a hot flash of hurt and guilt down her spine before she turned and opened the drawer on her nightstand. Grabbing a water bottle, Ibuprofen and dark chocolate.

She always made sure to have a small stash for nights like these.

Pressing the rim of the water bottle to his lips, Peter drank gingerly, only lifting his hand to ease the bottle away, took the medication and waited as she unwrapped the chocolate, passing it to him.

His nose wrinkled as he bit into it, the bitter flavour and she giggled at his reaction.

“I know, but it’ll help regain some strength.”

As he ate, she learned that the marks came from a mutant hybrid: half-man, half-lion that was shortly detained after Peter and the NYPD chased it for ten blocks. But of course, it hadn’t gone down without a fight and ended up clawing him, tearing his suit and nearly sinking its fangs into his neck.

“Try and be more careful,” she sighed, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Peter shoved the remaining chocolate in his mouth and placed his left hand on his heart, his right in the air as he swore, “I promise to be carefuller because I’m deathly afraid of a small kitten.”

“Oh, you dick.”

“I swear! I promise!”

“Parker —“

“I’m wounded! You know I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep!”

“You talk an awful lot when wounded.”

“So much so I’ve learned to tune myself out.”

“I — just promise me!”

“Okay! I promise.”

Happy with the answer, she beamed and reached over to the nightstand to pull out another water, only to realize that was the last one. Peter caught on quickly too.

“I’ll go get more —“

“No,” he rasped, his mood instantly changing. His hands latched onto her, a needy, desperate expression written on his face. She allowed him to pull her back to his chest, feeling his face press against her neck while murmuring against her skin as she fought the urge to shiver from his touch. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’ll only be gone for a second, okay?” She tried to soothe, a little put off by his reaction but she assumed he was still shaken up. “You need something to eat.”

But his grip tightened. “Please.”

There was a part of Peter’s brain that rationally knew she only wanted to help, be a dotting partner, but he didn’t want her to take care of his wounds anymore. They would heal — look brand new after a goodnight’s sleep and the morning sun rose. All he wanted was her: to be close, to hold and to love at that moment. Every thought that swirled in his mind seemed to be drunk on the thought of her, her, her —

Roaming the streets of New York was never boring, but it was draining to have so much control, to use strength day in, day out. All he wanted was to relinquish it for a while.

His kisses were soft, sweet, tentative with underlying desire and urgency with every touch splayed across her skin. He didn’t want to leave a single place untouched by him, too addicted to stop.

She shifted in Peter’s lap, tugging him closer only to feel him jerking his hips up slightly, just to create more friction as she felt something poke into her leg.

“Really?” She laughed, running her fingers through his hair to look at him better. His face was flushed, a deep pink, most likely from embarrassment, tinged his cheeks. “You’re hard from this?”

“You’re pretty. I can’t appreciate my beautiful girlfriend?”

“Then I think you’d like to know I’m not wearing underwear.”

“Fuck,” he chuckled, “You’re such a tease.”

His head playfully shook a few times with a light smile. Chocolate brown eyes filled with soft admiration and want; Peter was filled with vulnerability as every action screamed neediness. He pressed quick kisses to her lips then looked up at her doe-eyed. “Darling,” he whispered, desperate and pleading. “Please — please.”

“Shh,” she chided, pulling away to seat herself on his thigh while undoing the belt of his robe and dragging the soft pads of her fingers along his cock, relishing in the way Peter shuddered under her touch.

Peter whimpered, entrusting his body to her, to let her use and toy with him.

Her thumb swiped over the tip, spreading the pre-cum that beaded through while setting a steady pace stroking his length.

He groaned, head falling back against the headrest. His hips twitched and buckled up, trying to thrust in time with her strokes but he physically couldn’t, too tired to.

‘“I’ve got you, Peter,” she shushed softly, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw as her hand twisted. “I’ll take care of you.”

Muffling his soft moans with a kiss, she ravished him, and he savoured her very being. Her touch anchored him to her, a present reminder that he was loved and cared for, no matter the wrong he did, she never asked.

He moved to gasp for air, only to return sucking on the patch of skin below her jaw. But she had other plans. Shifting her shirt up, she started to roll her hips onto his thigh.

Peter was slow to respond at first but eventually took it upon himself to help rock her back and forth, moaning as he felt the wetness coat him. Hands were everywhere; gazing at her skin and holding her tightly against him. His movements began to falter and lose the rhythm, but she continued.

Pawing at her shirt and lifting it above her head, Peter trailed the tips of his fingers from her stomach, only stopping at her breast and his thumb coming to lightly rub slow circles on her nipple. He pressed gentle kisses between her breasts before his tongue poked out, tracing light circles around her nipple. He was teasing, flicking the nub with his tongue until he took it in his mouth. Her hand reached to pull his hair again, every little tug making him hold back noises simultaneously as the other hand continued to stroke his cock fast.

She moaned with every careful swirl of his tongue, squeezed around his thigh and whined when the pressure on her clit was matched with Peter lightly biting at her nipple. Her knee was pressed against his groin, adding to Peter’s pleasure.

Peter pulled away, a silver line of spit snapping that connected his mouth from her breast, peering up to watch her reaction.

He gently jerked his thigh up, meeting her thrust and the added friction made her keen.

“You like that?”

She nodded her head minutely, legs beginning to shake and tremble as she was pushed to that edge. “Uh-huh.”

There was something that flashed in Peter’s eyes before, to the best of his abilities, bounced his leg fast — finding the perfect rhythm and angle to build the pleasure that shot up her spine.

She tightened, tensed, rubbing her clit faster while Peter firmly held her, rubbing his free hand up her back as they squirmed.

“Come for me —” he sounded frantic, one hand finding its way to push her down hard, her clit dragging up deliciously. His abdomen caved in with every small brush of her pussy on his thigh and stroke of his cock. “I want you to come, make a mess. Please baby,” he begged.

She focused on the building tightening of her stomach, the shivering that began to course through her entire body that built so fast it startled her. When Peter recognized, murmured and pleaded for her not to stop, the coiling sapped, bursting and scattered — a euphoric feeling that shot through her.

He prolonged her climax, leg continuing to flex to help guide her until her pussy began to ache from the aftershock.

Peter was staring at her, his eyes glazed and eyelids heavy with a pretty flush coating his cheeks. “Please.”

Her hand began to move again, starting a steady pace again that had him at her mercy once more.

“Tell me how it feels,” she said, marvelling at him.

Peter could barely speak, exhaustion flowing off of him in waves as he was desperate for release. He let out a strangled sort of moan, throaty. “So good. So, so, so good. T-thank you.”

Smiling, she shifted off his lap and trailed down a line of kisses from his stomach, then chest before settling between his legs. Peter gulped as he watched her tongue poke out to lick the slit of his cock.

Peter almost yelped, hips bucking up instinctively, then moaned when her mouth, hot and warm, slowly dragged up the flat of her tongue and closed around the first couple inches of his cock.

Peter was responsive to the tiniest of her touches. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, lips were bitten raw.

Peter groaned, desperately trying not to thrust into her mouth, rotting himself in place by gripping the bedsheets.

Gagging a little when the tip hit the back of her throat, she fisted the rest of him that couldn’t fit in his mouth and began bobbing her head. The sucking sounds obscene and Peter’s soft mewls in the otherwise quiet room.

Encouraged by his reaction, she sped up, hallowing her cheeks, sucking harder and moaning around him. The vibration nearly made him sob while her tongue dragged over a prominent vein along the side of his cock and she relished in the way his thighs clenched.

Peter thrashed a little when she pushed her head down further. And that was enough.

He came hard, her name spilling out in soft pants and whines as he used the little energy he still had to thrust up into her mouth.

She pulled back, wiped her mouth and settled herself back in his lap. His eyes were closed and hair messily strewn across his face.

“Thank you,” he whispered, opening his heavy lids to observe her.

She quirked a brow before kissing him, catching a quick look at the shine that reflected off his leg in the moonlight.

“That bath was for nothing.”

“I don’t mind repeating the cycle.”

She giggled, he melted into her touch and smiled to himself. Peter wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as possible and she concentrated on his heart beating.

“I love you,” he said. His eyes seemed to glitter in the low lighting; there was nothing that could compare to the love that lurked behind every glance in his eyes or mere touch.

“I love you too.”

Love seemed like a silly, simple word to describe a feeling so much more than just simple. Love was driven by passion, potential labyrinth and an imperfect intricateness that built homes over barren land of blood vessels and organs.

Love tore, love mended, love was beautiful, love was dangerous.

But in this case, love only persevered and stored itself into the cages of their heats that always seemed too small to hold so much of it — as if two souls grasped and latched onto each other so tightly and constantly added renovations to their love storage. And Peter couldn’t mutter it enough.

She left him high, loved him deeply, and at the end of the day when night returns and the stars speckle the sky, she was a steady anchor that reeled Peter back home. Nothing could hold him down, keep him away. He would crawl home to her.

Aftercare with Gojo where he focuses on kissing life back into your limbs after a particularly rough session with him.

He showers with you. No round two, no sexually stimulating touches, just him being as soft and delicate with you as he can. He spends a lot of time reassuring you as he scrubs your body, telling you that you're just as pretty as you were before, even with all these marks on your skin. Regardless of his words, he kept scrubbing your skin, as if trying to bring back some of the purity it had before things got animalistic.

He requests that you stay as light in clothes as possible because he'll be examining your body. Normally, you just stay in your underwear and a bra because with these examinations comes Gojo checking every inch of your skin. You get to lay back and relax while he thoroughly goes down your body, massaging your tender muscles and overall rehabilitating you.

He brushes his fingers against the dark marks on your neck and your chest, feeling the love that went into putting them on you to begin with. As his eyes trail down the rest of your hickey-littered, unobserved body, he realizes he loves you so much that it's taken a physical form on your skin.

You are not the only one who leaves scratches behind. Satoru does, too. He looks at your ribs, inhaling at the sight of four red, long streaks that trail from your ribs on each side, to where he can no longer see, on your back. He leans down and kisses the bright lines, like doing so would heal you in an instant. He does the same for the nail indentations he left behind on your waist and on your hips, kissing the aftermath of being so driven with pleasure that he had to take it out on your skin. He finishes up massaging your lower body. Your thighs, which were also bruised by his lips, your knees which had rug burns on them, and just a thrown in ankle massage for the harsh grip he had on it before.

You feel like you're in another place when Satoru looks after you this way. Almost 90% of the times he does this, you fall asleep when he has you flip over to examine your back. This was one of those times when his touch felt so heavenly, and light against your skin that you couldn't help but rest your eyes, resulting in your slumber.

His hands run down the expanse of your back. He undoes the clasp of your bra, not able to see the point where his scratches end until the material is moved. It's expected for you to leave these behind on him, but he's in shock at the ones you got from him this time. He traces the lines, the slightly swollen skin warm to the touch, and his revitalizing kisses return to soothe the sting. He can see choppy patterns of his nail indentations on your lower back, a warm hand rubbing them to try to make them fade. He can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing by now, a soft smile drawn on his features. He rubs little pressurized circles into your calves, watching you to make sure he's not pressing too hard. He ends the examination with some finishing touches on your achilles tendons and your heels.

"Baby," Satoru coos, laying on his side, facing you. You're still laying on your stomach, little puffs of air escaping your lips. His fingers trail down your spine, past the undone clasps of your bra. "Baby..." he tries again, this time running a thumb across your shiny, saliva coated bottom lip.

"Mm..." you hum, not opening your eyes.

"You okay?" He asks his hand playing with your damp hair, softly.

"Mhm," you nonverbally confirm.

"Alright," he finishes. He turns his lamp off and scoots closer to you, his arm and leg draping over you like a makeshift blanket.

😭😭😭

inertia

y/n found out something she wasn't supposed to and she wished she could take it back

part one (gravity)

part two (momentum)

part three (magnetism)

part four (tension)

previous part (impulse)

—————

(Y/N) had been filled with butterflies in her tummy and cotton-candy clouds since Harry picked her up for a lunch date before he had to go into work. He had told her he wanted to take her somewhere he loved, which made her all the more excited for the date than normal. She noticed he tended to plan around everything she liked (aside from the scary movie date, of course), taking her to places he knew would make her happy and centering the conversation around her. She was bubbling at the idea of getting more of a peek into his life outside of the classroom, hoping to add another piece to the green-eyed and curly-haired puzzle that made up her Harry.

"I've never been down here before," (Y/N) prattled as she walked with Harry down the sloping sidewalk a couple of blocks away from campus.

Harry swung their joined hands between them, a serene smile on his face as he took in the leaves falling around them. He was bundled comfortably in one of his knitted jumpers, this one a bright fuchsia shade that matched the laces he had threaded through his shoes, the heavy sleeves periodically falling over their hands. "I used to come out here all the time m'first year. I had a lot of time on m'hands, so I liked to explore. Only a little further down," he mused, peering through the slowly baring trees, "Y'can see the awning from here, actually. 'S that green one down there."

(Y/N)'s eyes followed the finger he pointed out towards an emerald green awning that had fading letters in a font that resembled wood grain. She couldn't make out the words, but she could see why Harry was drawn to a location like that. Just from that glimpse, she could see how well he would fit into that sort of environment.

As they drew closer, she found a coffee shop directly next door, a conjoined sign between the two spaces showing they were in business together and stop by the other if you go to one. A cute patio space was arranged just to the left of the business strip, leaving the wrought iron frames to be glazed over in the orange of the falling leaves with a couple seated at the middle table, cups of coffee in hand.

Mumbling, Harry pulled her along inside the store adorned with the green awning, an old-school brass bell dinging above their heads, "This is where I used to come study if I wasn't at the library. There's a corner in the back with these really soft pillows y'can sit and read at."

Looking around, (Y/N) took in the rich, warm tones that decorated the space. The high shelves were made of clean, stained wood to show off the intricate grain. Hand drawn signs were posted on the bookends of each shelf, delegating which genre was housed on the shelves, decorated with hallmarks of that specific category. Potted plants in shades of soft green were dispersed throughout the shop with the pots decorated to match the jewel tones accenting the space. Bright pops of gold mixed in with burnt oranges and the deep green that colored the awning, giving the space a soft-focus vintage ambiance that drew (Y/N) in.

"It's cozy," she whispered back, Harry's dimples digging deeper into his cheeks.

"Hi, Harry! How are you? We haven't seen you here in a while," the girl behind the checkout desk bubbled, a genuine smile on her features as she set down the book she was paging through to give them the full of her attention.

The tips of his ears were tinted pink, the dusting matching the flush that climbed up his cheeks. Harry glanced down at her, mumbling under his breath, "I didn't think I came here that much."

A breathy laugh was drawn from (Y/N) as she dropped her gaze to their joined hands as Harry greeted the attendant. She could hear that pleasant small talk happening beside her though she was hooked on the volumes lining the shelves. This wasn't the kind of place she usually found herself—not for years, anyway. She used to be a bigger reader when she was younger, but now she barely picked up a book for fun now that she was too tired or too busy to do so. (Y/N) hadn't even realized she was drifting towards the stacks until her grip on Harry's hand slipped an inch before he rushed to replace his hold.

"Don't go without me," Harry quietly laughed, catching up with her after putting to rest the small talk with the girl up front.

"Sorry," she smiled over her shoulder, gazing at the spines of the classics they were currently perusing, "What do you usually read, Harry?"

For a flick, she swore she saw his eyes pause on the romance shelves across from them with his nose gaining a dusting of blush before he paid his attention to her. "Usually fantasy and silly things like that, I guess."

"I'm surprised," (Y/N) started, letting go of his hand to drag her finger over the spines but not without a bump of her hip against his, "I thought you only read scientific journals and research papers."

An easy smile bloomed over his features at her teasing, the deep dimples on his cheeks stealing the show. "Oh no, I only read those to relax."

She shook her head with a curl stretching her lips as she drifted through the shelves and out of view of his friend up front. Classic titles were designed with fairytale-esque covers, with a few new additions being treated with the same grandeur that made (Y/N) want to shell out the money for a hardback copy of a book she didn't know anything about. Nineties paperbacks dominated the lower shelves of the romance stacks while contemporary pieces she remembered from her teenage years were shelved along the top. All the while Harry followed closely behind, his eyes glancing at her more often than they flicked to the shelves.

Just when she was about to steer the two of them towards the fantasy shelves, hoping to peek into Harry's life, she saw one of the smaller shelves towards the back, full of books covered completely in opaque brown butcher's paper. Each spine had the simple title scrawled along the length with peeks of sticky notes stuck to the covers. (Y/N)'s eyes widened when she realized what she had found.

Letting out a soft gasp, she rushed over to the concealed stacks, only halfway aware of the laugh Harry let out as he followed her.

"Harry, look," she rushed in a hush tone, "It's like those ones on instagram and Pinterest—those surprise book shelves."

She pulled out the first book she could settle her eyes on, the title including something about a court of flowers and grime or something. The sticky note pasted to the front denoted the genre of book with a few key points, detailing a side plot of a love story with fantastical elements and world building. The print of the cover was completely sealed, leaving only the librarian's praise and recommendations handwritten along the back and the short sticky note to help determine whether or not the book was her cup of tea.

"I know," Harry smiled, looking down at the addition in her hands, "I always want to grab one of these, but 'm too scared I'll only pick something I've already read or won't like."

(Y/N) looked up at him with what she was sure were wide eyes with hope swimming through the irises. "Could we pick books for each other? I'll try to pick something you haven't read!"

His smile turned lopsided as his softening eyes flitted over her features. "I'd love that. Pick whatever y'want for me—I trust you."

Practically bouncing in her spot, (Y/N) reshelved the book in her hand and didn't waste a second before her eyes were scanning over the covert volumes before her. She could feel Harry's gaze linger on her for a moment, the line of her body feeling the heat of his eyes before he averted his attention to the shelves.

"What do y'like to read?"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, a lopsided smile catching at the corner of her lips that Harry had a hard time taking his eyes off of. "Would it surprise you if I told you I like romance or whatever it was that Twilight was considered?"

"Not at all," he teased. His own grin tugged at his lips; it's not like he could blame her, he liked the same stuff if he was being honest. He liked the thought of her curled up with a book in her small bedroom, heart fluttering over soft words and a world built off of romance.

She mumbled some retort he didn't quite catch before she fell into her job of finding the perfect book for Harry. He was just as eager to find something for her, hoping that with all the time he'd spent getting every story, every anecdote, every inside joke out of her that he could find something fitting for his flower.

At the thought of his secretly appointed nickname for her, Harry's finger stuttered over the parchment covered spine of a book entitled with something about roses. He'd been trying his best not to think of her with that name, fearing the word would slip out when he was actually with her. He wasn't sure she was ready to explain why he'd been adorning her with new nicknames in his head; half the time he was unable to think of her without calling her by one of the affectionate petnames.

"I think I found it!" (Y/N) chirped, standing the full of her height from where she had fallen to her knees searching through the bottom few shelves, "This one is yours!"

A bright smile stretched across her cheeks, lifting the rounded apples to cause crinkles to fold around her eyes and bring a glow to her skin. That smile was one of the first things that caught his attention when he saw her that first time in Prof. Stanfill's lecture hall. Naomi had made her laugh with a whispered joke under her breath while Stanfill was droning on at the front of the room, causing (Y/N) to brighten up and make him falter in his notes. That's why he took that seat beside her when he realized her friend was no longer showing up. He dreamed of making her smile like that, and now he had her looking up at him with stars in her eyes and her teeth bared in joy.

"Let me see, then," Harry requested, taking a half step towards her before she pulled the book tightly to her chest.

"No," she shook her head, "I want it to be a real surprise. I don't want you to know until you get home. I really think you're going to like it, Harry."

He didn't doubt for a second that he would like whatever she chose to give him.

With her eyes directed squarely on him, he felt flush. A blush crept up his cheeks as he dropped his gaze to the book he had absently pulled for her. Reading over the daffodil colored sticky note, he found the details of a supernatural romance recommended by the librarian working up front (her name was Erika, if he remembered correctly) between a human girl and a fae male. Not much else was given about the story, adhering to the mystery that went along with the nature of the shelves, other than how sweet it was and how "he falls first!". This would be perfect for her—or at the very least, be better than the physics texts she skimmed over with barren interest.

Though he tried to keep his brain in the present, Harry couldn't help but picture her bundled up in the bay window he was lucky enough to have in his bedroom (he was very lucky with apartment hunting he found). He could picture the makeshift cushions that lined the sill he had fashioned out of blankets he took from home when he moved out, nested around her while she had the book he had picked for her in her hands. In his head, he saw her with her eyes rounded out as she read the epic, a gasp falling from her mouth at a particularly romantic part or her hand fluttering to the base her neck when something broke her heart (in the best way possible of course, he wouldn't want her to read anything that made her sad). Maybe, she'd even let him read with her.

"I think I found yours, too, flower."

The second he processed what had come out of his mouth, Harry's cheeks went up in flames. The crimson coloring trailed over his neck and painted the tips of his ears while his heart worked double time in embarrassed beats. He knew he needed to be more careful.

Across from him, (Y/N) canted her head with a slightly narrowed gaze. Her smile sat unshakable on her lips. "Flower?"

He swallowed thickly at her small question. "Um—I don't know, I—," he floundered, feeling like a gaping fish under her gaze, "I shouldn't have said that, 'm sorry."

"But, why flower?" she prodded, her tone still quiet between the shelves. She hadn't looked at the book in his hands for even a second, her attention placed solely on him.

Harry was grateful for the fact there was no way for him to catch his reflection at that moment. He was sure the sight of him with his skin growing more and more red would only make him feel even more embarrassed as he stumbled for his words. He ran a heavy hand through his hair, itching to find anything to occupy his fingers before he resorted to picking his nail polish.

"I—You're jus'... You're pretty like a flower," he choked out, his tongue feeling lazy as he tried to voice the words, "and you're soft, and-and kind. And, y'always smell really nice too." Harry had never wished for anything more than a chasm to develop under his feet and swallow him underground in that moment. It appeared he couldn't be trusted to watch himself around her anymore. "'M so sorry," he stuttered out, "That's not what I meant to say. That was weird of me to tell you, 'm so sorry."

(Y/N) let out a bubbling laugh that rang through Harry's ears. The sound wasn't at all teasing or tormenting like the would have thought would happen after he minced his words so drastically. He peeked through his dark lashes to find her with glittery eyes and a her glossy lips drawn into an enchanting smile.

"Don't say sorry, I really like that, Harry. That was cute, thank you," she whispered to him, finishing the half step he had taken towards her, "I liked hearing you call me that."

An airy haze clouded his thoughts, the puffs tinted a sunset pink. They filtered through his body, making Harry feel light and lighter with every beat of his heart. Biting on the full of his bottom lip, Harry felt his smile return to his face. "Yeah?"

He watched on as she nodded her head softly, the curl of her lips mimicking his own with the white tips of her teeth peeking out as she bit at the pillow. She was backlit by the sun filtering through the wall of windows behind her. The decals that decorated the shop windows cast shadows in the shape of twirling vines and woodland grasses all around her. Orange and golden hues haloed her form, giving her the appearance of a long forgotten goddess who had returned to form right in front of him, ready for worship.

God, did he adore her.

The smallest of flaws could be picked at the top of her cheekbone, though it was no fault of her own. An eyelash had fluttered from the crown around her softened eyes and fell on the top of her cheek, clinging to her glowing skin.

He suddenly felt breathless as he tried to speak though he couldn't tear his eyes from her face. "You-You've got an eyelash on your cheek," he whispered out, his eyes reluctantly slipping from her own and falling to the offending hair that had taken home on her cheek.

A huff of a laugh was exhaled through her nose, "Where?"

Harry worked on auto-pilot as he lifted his hand to brush his fingertip against his own skin. "Right here," he directed.

A light entered (Y/N)'s eyes as she took a small step towards him. If Harry took a deep enough breath, he was sure his chest would brush against her. "Can you get it for me?"

Without thinking, he dropped the book he had picked for her onto a vacant section on the shelf beside him leaving his hands free to gently hold her. He looked for any sign of rejection as he cradled her cheek softly in his hand, though all he received was her leaning into his hold with her eyes trained on his face. Ducking his head to be level with her, he used his free hand to brush over her soft skin and glowing cheekbone. The dark lash stuck to the tip of his finger, a gentle curve to the hair that stuck up from his skin.

"You're supposed to make a wish now."

His fingertip was level with the full of her lips as he caught a glance she cast him through the vignette of her lashes. She pressed her lips together in a pout before she blew the lash off his fingertip. He assumed it fluttered to the ground somewhere behind him like the seed of a dandelion, but he was too transfixed with the vision in front of him to care.

"What did y'wish for?

Rising to the tips of her toes, Harry didn't get an answer before (Y/N) pressed her lips to his. His hand on her cheek tied him to the moment as he found it much too easy to float away when she kissed him. She'd never done this in such a public place, he realized, the thought only causing his muscles to liquify and relax further into her. They'd kissed in the university parking lot by her car and just outside her apartment before, but never in such a place where anyone could walk by and know that she was just as infatuated with him as he was with her.

By the time she pulled away from the short contact, Harry's face was surely flushed a deep red. He left his hand cradling her cheek, unwilling to fully step out of the moment they curated between the shelves.

(Y/N) looked up at him with a satisfied smile.

"My wish just came true."

Harry felt weak in the knees as he shook his head, looking for any slim grasp on stability he could find before he toppled over. He reluctantly dropped his hand to his side, though he'd rather she didn't feel how clammy his palm was growing as he tried to regulate his heartbeat. "Ar-Are y'ready, then? Or did y'want to look at anything else?"

"I'm ready," she smiled, looking a little too proud of herself over the flush that still colored his skin, "Are you? You picked something out for me, too, right?"

"Oh!" Harry puttered, having momentarily forgotten about the book he had stowed away on the shelf for her, "Yeah, I have one for you. Do y'want to see it?"

She was quick to shake her head, hugging his book closer to her chest, "No, it's okay. I want it to be a surprise for me, too."

Harry nodded his head with a shallow dimple denting only one of his cheeks as a lopsided smile tugged his lips. "If y'want, I can take care of all of this and y'can go next door and get us a table and some coffee?"

He'd found in the handful of dates they'd been on, that (Y/N) typically agreed to him paying for things a bit faster when he gave her something to do that she equated to paying him back. He thought she was the sweetest thing he'd ever come across, her big heart making him that much more smitten for her.

"Okay, I'll see you in a second then," Harry mumbled, hesitating for just a second as he reached for the book in her hands, "flower."

The same glow he had been hoping for settled over her skin at the return of the petname. He liked knowing he could draw those reactions from her.

"Okay, Harry," she smiled, handing over the book before rising to her toes. She planted a sweet kiss to the soft of his cheek, right over his dimple, before she turned towards the door. "Don't peek at your book!"

"I won't. I promise," he muttered after her, unable to tear his eyes off of the gold-soaked vision of his dream girl as she drifted through his favorite place.

She waved to him and said a quick thank you to the girl behind the register before she left for the cafe next door. Harry worked on autopilot, the butterflies in his tummy giving him enough gusto to carry him through the shop and towards the check-out.

Erika, the so-called expert librarian as her nametag appointed her, gave him a polite smile as she ran through her customer service script. Harry nodded along, only halfway listening as his heart was in the next store over along with his attention.

"So," she started, breaking from the familiar script Harry was used to, "Who was that? I've never seen you come in with anyone before."

Without permission, a large grin stretched over his lips despite the way he tried to bite it back. His eyes were trained on the book she had chosen for him; knowing she had thought of him as she grabbed the volume made his heart stutter. He didn't know how to introduce her when he barely had the words to describe how much she already impacted his heart.

"She—uh... She's m'(Y/N)."

A bubbling laugh left Erika's lips, "Oh, she's your (Y/N), I see. I should've known."

Harry didn't know what else to say but an airy yes, and a nod of his head. He watched as she bagged up the books and read off his total. He all but floated through the motions as he paid and waited as patiently as possible to return to his flower.

"Well, I hope you and your (Y/N) enjoy these, Harry," Erika smiled, passing off the paper bag that now held his most prized possession.

"Thank you," he sighed, already edging towards the doorway.

He decided in that moment that, though he still loved his Secret Garden bookshop, his favorite place now took the shape of a girl from his physics class.

—————

"Flower, I really do need to go to work now."

Harry's words fell on deaf ears as (Y/N) hooked her arms around his neck. She held him against her, pressing lingering kisses to the full of his lips in an attempt to persuade him to stay. He'd been hard pressed about studying this afternoon, their textbooks and notes splayed across the foot of her bed, but (Y/N)'s attention waned the longer they went on. He had struck a deal with her when they started reviewing the chapters, that he would reward her with as many kisses as she answered questions correctly.

In truth, she'd only got about seven out of the thirteen questions right, but she'd successfully drawn the last half hour worth of kisses out of him. With his arm wrapped around her waist while the other cradled the full of her cheek in his palm, she was warm in his hold as she tugged him to lay halfway atop her on her twin bed. He took very little convincing to let his lips linger over her's and twine his legs between hers.

(Y/N) knew their study session was meant to end when he had to go to work, but she couldn't find it in herself to pull away. Even when Harry whispered half-hearted reminders, he still drew his tongue along the seam of her lips, tightened his fingers around her waist and melted into her form. She wasn't going to stop him.

"Do you really need to?" she mumbled against his mouth, a slinking smile growing on her own as she ran her fingertips through the baby hairs on the back of his neck. "I was hoping you could stay and get dinner with me tonight."

His kissing mouth slid from her own to the full of her cheek and along her jawline. The length of his lashes felt like a butterfly's wing against her skin. "I know," he sighed, regret coloring his tone, "But I really can't miss tonight. Usually they're easy with me, but I have to go in."

Sucking in a deep breath, she finally relented. Her arms around his neck loosened until her hands slid to settle on the broad of his shoulders. "Fine," she sighed, reluctantly pulling away from his attention.

"I wish I didn't have to go," he mumbled, the full of his lips gently brushing against her skin before he dotted a single kiss on the apple of her cheek. He drew away with a soft smile on his face as he gazed over her features, his hand on her waist flexing around the curve. "You know I would stay if I could, right? I don't want to leave either."

(Y/N) dropped her eyes to where her hands gently adjusted his clothes she had ruffled and the curls of his hair she had dismantled from the careful waves around his neck. A crooked smile curled over her lips as she flicked her eyes to his through her lashes, "Maybe I could come see you tonight? On your lunch, I could come by and bring dinner and everything?"

If she hadn't been scanning so diligently for his reaction, (Y/N) would have missed the way the set in his shoulders tensed at her suggestion. The motion was minute and temporary as his muscles relaxed a split second later, though his features stayed stiff under the guise of nonchalance.

"I don't know, love," he started, untangling his limbs from hers, "I don't want to rush through m'lunch with you. I don't really have an uninterrupted break anyway, so I wouldn't get to spend too much time with y'even if y'came by. 'M sorry, flower."

His irises melted in apology, his hand on her face caressing over the bone in her cheek before he pulled away from her completely. He moved to sit on the edge of her bed, reaching for his collection of textbooks and notebooks at the foot of her bed. (Y/N) followed after, curling her feet under her bottom as she sat against her pillows. His motions seemed to be dipped in guilt, and (Y/N) almost felt bad for asking. If she had known he would feel this bad about rejecting her, she wouldn't have asked.

"It's okay, Harry, really," she crooned, settling a delicate hand on his bicep, "I was only wondering since we aren't able to see each other Friday night either, so I wanted to spend time with you. But, I understand, don't worry."

A lopsided smile tugged at Harry's lips, his fidgeting hands slowing now that his supplies were in a neat pile on her comforter. "I know, flower. 'M sorry that 'm busy this week; work can be a bit weird sometimes so it's easier to get through it before I make plans. I promise I'll be free soon, and we can see each other properly without school or work getting in the way."

"You don't have to promise me, I trust you," (Y/N) smiled, kneeing over her mattress to sit beside his dip in the mattress.

"I'll see you in class on Friday, anyway, right?"

"Right," she affirmed, beaming up at him, "And we still have our date for Saturday night."

Harry's own features brightened at the mention, nodding his head with his curls flopping over his forehead at the movement. "Can't wait, flower."

(Y/N) waited on him as he packed up his supplies, offering her hand when he was ready to be walked to the front door. Ny bid him her own goodbyes from where she was bundled on the couch, her phone pressed to her ear with Trystan's contact displayed across the top.

"Goodnight, Harry," (Y/N) said once they made it to the front door, her hand still cuddled in his as he stood just across the threshold, "Let me know when you get to work safe, okay?"

Harry's eyes dropped to their joined hands, a soft squeeze being delivered to her palm. "I will, flower. Goodnight."

She reached to her tip-toes and drew him in for a tender kiss, the contact lasting for only a moment before Harry broke. She watched as he made his way to the elevator. With the way he wasn't able to meet her eyes, even when he waved at her before the lift doors closed, she hoped she hadn't made him feel too bad about not being able to see him on his lunch.

—————

Now, when (Y/N) logged into the cam-site and tuned into one of H's streams, she couldn't help but feel a different kind of guilt layer over the usual skeeziness she experienced. With Harry in her life now (it had been almost a full month since their first date, actually), with him being the comforting, romantic presence that she had been craving when she found the site in the first place, she felt as if she was cheating on him in a way every time she watched the intimate moments of another man.

She made a point to rationalize it with herself whenever she felt especially bad. It's not like she and Harry were having sex at all—the most they did was heavy kissing for a few moments before pulling away—and she knew she wouldn't be upset if she found that he was still watching porn.

And, it's not like she could lie, H still did it for her. Until she had another outlet, she was going to take advantage of his content.

There wasn't much room for guilt at the moment anyway, she decided. Her muscles were entirely too lax and her mind too buried in a pleasantly fuzzy state to be worried about anything as she came down from her orgasm. H had just done his signature outro before the screen went black, leaving (Y/N) to work through her own aftercare with a dreamy smile on her lips. He had dipped into every little thing she loved this show, leaving her a puddle to be scooped up to be  put back together.

Despite the fact that she sought out H to bring her to this state, now that she had Harry, he was her main focus afterwards. She wanted nothing more than for him to be with her, pushing out all thoughts of the performer that had graced her screen. She decided she couldn't feel too guilty about tuning into the shows when all she wanted in the most vulnerable moments was her Harry.

With lazy limbs, she reached for her phone that was charging on her side table. She quickly pulled open Harry's text thread, typing out a message telling him that she missed him and couldn't wait until the next time she could see him.

He was at work at the moment, but maybe her text would be a bright spot during his shift.

—————

"Harry, are you sure you're okay? You promise you're not sick or anything?"

Harry let out a breathy laugh at (Y/N)'s prodding. He was walking her to her car with a slight slump to his shoulders, her bag hanging off his elbow with her extra textbook tucked under his arm. "I promise 'm okay, was jus' up late last night, that's all. You're making me nervous that I look bad or something, flower."

"No, no, that's not it at all!" she rushed, quick to take her things from him as they approached her car, "You look perfect! You're just not usually so forgetful with everything, so I worry about you. I even got to class earlier than you, and that's how I know something is wrong."

He shook his head, the curling tendrils of his hair catching on the frames of his glasses he forgot to take off. The tips of his ears tinted pink as he dropped his gaze to where her hands brushed his as she pulled her book from his grip."I promise 's nothing more than lacking on some sleep, okay? You're very sweet to worry about me, though."

(Y/N) shut her car door with her class materials stacked in the passenger seat. She lent against the frame, twining her hands together as she looked up at Harry. "So you're going to go home and sleep then, right?"

"Unless I get called into work, yeah," he murmured, his toes kicking at the pavement under their feet, "But no matter what, I'll call y'tonight, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled, satisfied with his promise. He gave her a soft smile, the apples of his cheeks tinted a baby pink as he nervously adjusted the heavy cardigan on his form.

(Y/N)'s eyes followed the path of his hands, looking at the details of the rainbow, patchwork pattern of the garment. Each square was knitted from a thick yarn, colored in deep oranges and reds with bright yellows and earthen greens breaking it up. Black boxed stitched in made for the rainbow pattern to pop, all tied together with strips of blue making room for the heavy black buttons to sit. Only one of the buttons was fastened at his waist, leaving the cardigan to slip off his shoulder if he wasn't paying enough attention.

"What?" he mumbled, speaking through a small smile when he noticed her lingering gaze.

"Nothing," she smiled, shaking her head with her own cheeks growing in warmth at being caught, "I just really like your sweater. It looks soft."

"Yeah?" he bubbled, brightening at the compliment, "M'sister made it for me."

"She made it?!" (Y/N) perked up, now looking with a more scrutinizing eye at the garment, "Like, she knitted the whole thing and put it together?" Harry nodded his head with a hummed affirmation, pride tinting his features at the praise of his family. "Did she use a pattern or anything like that?" (Y/N) pressed, catching the way the emerald green on Harry's fingernails almost completely matched the squares on his cardigan.

"Nope! Jus' her. She's really good at this kind of stuff—whenever I need something stitched or fixed, I send it to her and she has it done even better than before."

"Well, she's very talented," (Y/N) beamed, looking up at Harry's blushing face, "I really like it, Harry."

"Y'can wear it sometime, if y'want?"

"No, no," (Y/N) declined, shaking her head with fluttering hands, "It's your's, I can't take that from you. I just think you look really cute in it, that's all."

"Thank you, flower," he sighed, his voice wrapping around the petname that made her heart race, "I'll have to tell my sister how much y'love it."

She could feel her own skin beginning to glow at the thought of him mentioning her to his family. With her attention fixed on the butterflies swarming her tummy, she almost missed the way Harry took a step towards her. He placed his hands tenderly on her hips, fingers gentle against the curve as he dipped his head down.

"I'll call y'later, okay?" he reiterated, leveling the tip of her nose with her's in a cautious puppy's kiss in case she pulled away.

"But, only after you take a nap," she insisted, resisting the urge to tip her head and press her lips to his. She wanted him to know she was serious about this—there would be no exceptions to his health, not even her.

He did the job for her, kissing her through the smile on his lips. He gave a pulse of his fingers around the thick of her hips, a tickling sensation that drew her own smile to the surface.

"Bye, love," he mumbled to her, "Get home safe."

After finishing their goodbyes, (Y/N) lingered for a moment before resigning to head home. In her rearview mirror, he was a bright rainbow fleck in the view. She was entirely enamored by him, she decided, even as nothing more than a technicolor dot behind her, he made her heart skip a beat.

—————

(Y/N) sighed, falling into her bed after she finished putting away laundry. She felt restless in her own skin, an itch creeping through her muscles she was too familiar with. It was a growing trend now that after seeing Harry, she was left with a yearning need.

He had her stomach churning in the softest way possible every time she had to leave him. He was so cute and sweet and cloyingly memorable that she wanted nothing more than to kiss the life out of him and get tangled in her sheets with his limbs adding to the web. He was too loving for his own good, she decided; if he wasn't careful and smiled at her with his eyes too soft, she was going to have to jump his bones, there was no other choice.

Though she understood why nothing further had happened yet, it still left her muscles tight and her brain foggy when he would cut her off in the middle of kissing on his couch or in the tufts of her bedding. They had only been together exclusively for just over a month, making it a little soon to do too much more than indulging in kisses, but it still left (Y/N) with a pit in her stomach as she searched for relief. Even now, after seeing him in class and stealing a handful of innocent kisses in the parking lot, she was still plagued with the need for more.

She didn't think too hard about it before she pulled for her laptop and opened up a private tab. Her fingers worked lazily to type in the URL of the cam-site, going through the motions in an effort to distract herself from that lingering guilt she felt when tuning into H's shows. But, nothing in that moment could have compared to the relief she felt when she saw he had started a stream only seven minutes prior. She hadn't missed any of the good stuff.

With Ny out for the afternoon, (Y/N) skipped any of the drama of her usual set up, instead burrowing into her bedding and clicking the link. She planned on leaving any thoughts of her day behind in favor of throwing herself into whatever storyline H was displaying for the next hour, but the second he popped up on her screen, her mind went completely blank except for one thing.

The usual camera work of him sitting with his head out of frame and his clothed torso taking the main view greeted her. But, the only thing (Y/N) could manage to concentrate on was his clothes.

A heavy cardigan was draped over his torso, leaving his chest completely bare underneath. The knit of the chunky sleeves was caught in his hands, patches of color coming together in bright slashes that worked together harmoniously. She halfway heard his voice echoing through her speakers, detailing the mood of the day as being soft and gentle, that nothing would make him happier than to take care of the viewer. (Y/N) barely heard anything as her eyes were trained on the way he adjusting the falling shoulder, the green paint on is fingernails glinting in the low light

She knew that cardigan. She had just left that cardigan on campus after he had told her he was too tired to hang out tonight, but he would call her later tonight.

It was Harry's cardigan.

But that couldn't be right, could it?

Harry had told her his sister had gifted the garment to him, knitted it herself without the help of a pattern to imitate. H's nails were even painted the exact same shade of green she remembered was on her Harry's nails just a couple of hours prior. But, all of this had to be a coincidence, right?

Because that couldn't be her Harry.

Her Harry asked permission to touch her for months, and even now was unsure before he kissed her. It took him two dates to fully be able to hold her hand without asking to twine their fingers together! There was no way her Harry was the same guy that recorded himself jerking off for strangers. There was no way that the same sweetheart that took months to grow the courage to talk to her and begged for cheek kisses in the middle of study sessions could be the same person that called himself daddy for others and had sexted with her only a month prior.

But there's no way it could be anyone else, and she knew that.

Just as the performer started to shed the knitted cardigan from his body, (Y/N) snapped the lid on her laptop shut. She recoiled from the device like it had burned her, pushing the computer to slide to the foot of her bed as she curled up by her pillows with her knees to her chest. Her mind was swirling like a twister, too fast for her to comprehend anything before another bubbling thought worked its way in the mess.

As soon as she reasoned out some kind of coincidental explanation (maybe his sister had made a duplicate and gifted it to someone who just so happened to put on cam shows?) the vision of H—or should she call him Harry now?—draped with the unmistakable pattern over his shoulders shocked her again.

What was she supposed to do now?

—————

(Y/N) didn't realize how long she had sat curled up by her pillows until her phone buzzed with a thrumming pulse that pulled her from her thoughts. She jumped in her spot, finding the device bundled in the tufts of her bedding with the screen lit up and Harry's contact plastered across.

She hesitantly reached for it, her heart racing. Did he know she knew now? Was he calling to interrogate her and see why she'd never said anything before, as if she was supposed to have known the whole time?

Pushing her irrationality to the side, she shakily swiped her finger across the width of her phone and answered his call.

"Hello?" she started, hoping she had schooled her voice enough to hide the waver.

"Hi flower, what are you up to?" She could tell he was smiling on the other end. She could picture his dimples so clearly dented into his cheeks, though now the rest of the picture of him didn't make much sense.

"Just getting ready to work on that creative writing assignment I was telling you about," she lied, her nervous gaze unable to settle on anything for too long before darting across the room, "What about you?"

"I jus' got off work—got called in for a short shift, so I thought I'd give you a call before I went home and slept." In the background, she swore she could hear the sound of clothing rustling like he was bundling up a pile that had been discarded. "I miss you, love."

"I miss you, too, Harry."

He was at work, huh?

—————

(Y/N) felt off-kilter as she walked into Stanfill's lecture that Monday. Though the guilt followed her, she had canceled on her plans with Harry for the past Saturday since she didn't trust herself to sit with him and not blurt out the new suspicions that had taken root in her head. Today would be the first time she'd seen him since last Friday (both in class and on her computer screen it would seem). But, she had taken all weekend and coached herself through the newfound information.

Maybe it was naive of her, but she'd reasoned with herself all weekend, finding enough explanations (she didn't care how thin) to turn the whole thing into a weird coincidence in her mind. Now, all she needed to do was believe them.

In his usual spot beside her own unassigned-assigned seat, Harry was perched with a giddy smile on his face. A bright orange sweater was draped over the back of his seat, the piece assumedly having been used to cover him through the chilly morning, leaving him in only a thin, white t-shirt that was stretched over his chest, fitting of the heat that now dominated the afternoon. His grin only brightened when he caught sight of her scaling the stairs, his eyes following her.

"Hi flower," he crooned, his gaze warm as he tenderly flitted his eyes over her form and the planes of her features.

"Hi Harry," she smiled, taking her spot beside him. Before she had a chance to set up her materials, he fit an arm around her waist and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek in greeting.

"You're feeling better from this weekend, right?" Harry asked when he pulled away, referencing the excuse she had used to get out of their plans.

Her heart stuttered over the guilt that pumped through her veins at the mention of her sordid excuse. She nodded her head with her attention spent on setting up notes. "Yeah, I think it was just one of those twenty-four hour things, so I'm feeling better."

"Good, I was worried about you. Almost came over with some soup or something for you." He ended with an airy laugh, the warmth of his gaze trailing over her form.

(YN) finally chanced a look in his direction since sitting down. The thin material she had spotted at the landing of the stairs was much more see-through than she had realized, allowing black designs inked onto Harry's skin to shine through. Thanks to the heavy sweaters and thick knits he typically wore to class, this was the first time she had noticed he had any more tattoos than the fading cross etched on his hand.

She hated to think that she already knew what designs decorated his skin.

"What?" Harry smiled, catching the way her eyes lingered over his chest, "Is there something on m'shirt?"

"No, no," she shook her head, rolling her lips between her teeth before growing the courage to start the conversation she was scared to hear his side of, "I just didn't know you had so many tattoos."

"Really?" he laughed, angling his body towards her as if to give a full view of the muffled ink, "I thought y'knew. Have y'never seen the one on m'hand?" He offered up his hand as his to prove there was a tattoo on the skin, the stretch allowing for an inch of the ink on his wrist to be revealed as the sleeve rode up.

"Well, yeah," she smiled though the curl was tight, "I can just see a lot more than I ever have before through your shirt. How many do you have?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, curling up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the details of the darkened spots that had shone through his top. "I lost count, but I've got the most of them up this arm, then a few on m'chest and ribs, and some on m'legs."

The farther up he tugged the fabric, the more designs (Y/N) recognized. The topless mermaid she had seen stretched over taut muscles and thick veins, a beetle looking bug on the delicate underside, a large rose inked over his elbow, and the beginnings of the anatomical heart on the inside of his bicep. The small tattoos inked on his wrist and the delicate scripts that detailed out names of people she was sure were close to him rounded out the tattoos she recognized in the form of pixels through her laptop screen.

She resisted the urge to trail her fingers over the ink and catch the texture of the skin she had been admiring for longer than she had realized, instead flicking her gaze to his own. "What do you have on your chest?"

He brightened at her question leaning back to touch his fingers to the spaces just under his collarbones, "I've got a pair of birds on m'chest,"—his touch slid down to his tummy—"a butterfly right here, and a set of laurels on m'hips."

From the neckline of his top, (Y/N) was able to spot the very tips of the wings of his inked birds. Though her face was stuck in a pleasant smile, her heart was thrumming like a hummingbird's and her mind was quickly dissolving to something close to a plate of twirled spaghetti. She couldn't act naive anymore, she knew that.

This was the confirmation she had been looking for, but feared finding. Now she couldn't just write this off and forget what she'd seen.

"That's really cool, Harry. I had no idea."

—————

(Y/N) had to psych herself up as she approached Stanfill's door Friday afternoon. She and Harry hadn't seen much of each other since Monday's lecture, Harry having been conveniently busy with work leaving them only a spare couple of hours on Wednesday night to meet up at the library before he rushed out after claiming to be called in by his boss. (She tried to ignore it, but (Y/N) couldn't help but notice the way that the cam page was suddenly full of new content with promises of more coming soon that lined up a little too well with Harry's demanding hours). She was grateful for the distance, honestly.

Now that she had resigned herself to the truth, it was better for her to limit her time around him in case she suddenly burst out with an accusation. (She didn't know what was more embarrassing: being accused of being a cam-performer or admitting to being an avid viewer of one). She had prepped herself heavily, schooling herself into keeping her mouth shut around him in case she let something slip she wasn't supposed to, but she still felt a little too close to the edge for comfort. Despite her hesitation, she knew she didn't have much choice but to show her face for class and get through the lecture.

Harry, as per usual, was already set up and perched in his seat when (Y/N) drew the courage to quit pretending to look at her phone and step through the heavy doors to her physics course. He held a beaming smile on his features, his dimples only deepening the farther up the stairs she went.

"Hi, love," he crooned once she was close enough, reaching to pull her chair out for her like the gentleman she was familiar with.

"Hi," she murmured, a small smile on her face as she peeked at him through her lashes. As much as she was shocked by her revelation (and a bit perturbed at the ease of which he lied to her with), there was still a soft spot in her heart for him she didn't see hardening anytime soon.

"I've missed you," he whispered, leaning closer with a careful eye on her reaction before planting his lips delicately against her cheek, "How was your morning?"

"Good, good," she prattled, setting up her laptop even though she knew she was only going to copy off of Harry's notes later, "Just tired and everything. What about you?"

"'M much better now," he flirted, a shy pink tint coloring his cheeks, "But it was fine, jus' been waiting to see you."

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she processed his words, the beat fluttering like a pair of wings on a bumbling bee. Yeah, he still had her—definitely.

"You're sweet, Harry," she smiled, melting into her seat.

She was vaguely aware of him recounting a tale of one of his friends (she thinks his name is Niji, but Harry wasn't the best at reminding her of his friends she had never met) as her eyes trailed over his form and to the typical spread that covered his work station. His notebooks were neatly organized as she'd come to expect, though there was a new development with a tattered pencil bag now holding all of his pens and highlighters he was fond of. She could tell it was old with the graphite dusting that stained the canvas material and etchings of a bored teenager who doodled in class.

One of the blackened markings on the bag caught her eye and made her freeze for a beat.

It was a small spot with the letters scripted in a familiar handwriting: TPWK.

It was one of the more loved spots on the bag, the acronym having been traced over and over enough to have embedded the lead into the weaving. (Y/N) recognized it in an instant, the letters being the signature ending to majority of H's (or should she just start calling him Harry now, at this point?) posts on his site. She had figured it was nothing more than a reiteration of his username, but (Y/N) didn't think Harry would be etching his cam-site username into his school materials as a teenager. At least, she hoped.

"Are y'even listening to me, flower? I didn't think I was as boring as Stanfill, but you're really humbling me right now."

Harry's soft laughter pulled her from her mind, drawing her eye from his pencil bag to find him with a shrewd smile on his lips and a soft aura circling his iris.

"Sorry, sorry," she rushed, flicking her gaze back to the acronym without thinking, "I was just... What does that mean?" Without permission, her traitorous words slipped free in conjunction with her finger pointing out the etching on his bag.

"Oh," he sounded, his brows coming to a furrow as he realized what she was referring to, "It was jus' something my mum used to say to m'sister and I growing up. It means treat people with kindness."

Glancing through the frame of her lashes, (Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth as she listened to his explanation. Her anxiety heightened as she realized this might be her only chance to confess to the knowledge she'd been holding back. This wasn't the best place—right in the middle of a lecture hall with their professor gearing up to start class—, but she didn't think she would ever have the courage again before the burden deteriorated her. She could barely even look at Harry, for crying out loud! She couldn't keep this in if she wanted to stay with him.

"Oh," she parroted, nodding her head as she directed her gaze to the letters, "I thought it stood for—um—treat people with kisses."

Harry's muscles immediately stiffened at the mention of his username, his hands becoming restless as he fiddled with the glasses perched on his nose. His eyes were clear as he scanned over her face, gauging for a reaction in a way she wasn't familiar with. "And why did y'think that?"

The sound of her heartbeat rang through her ears along with the sound of rushing water as her blood pumped through her veins. It was now or never.

"I've seen some things, and—um—there's someone who uses something really similar to that on their website, I've found." She capped her mouth before she could reveal any more in the middle of a packed lecture hall, sealing her lips together as she anticipated Harry's reaction.

That was when his facade seemed to crumble. He was realizing that she knew, that much she could tell from his expression as Harry nodded his head. He let out a string of mumbled okay's before he dropped his head to stare at the linoleum lining the floor, a heavy hand skimming through his hair. His fingers twitched as he delivered a tight tug at his roots.

"Fuck, okay," he swore, the first time (Y/N) had ever heard her Harry curse, "(Y/N), I—"

Before much else to fall from his lips, Professor Stanfill started class with a boom of his monotone voice. Unlike usual, Harry didn't rise to attention, his posture staying slumped with his gaze looking helpless as he fought for words. (Y/N) took the opportunity to break and face forward; she couldn't look at him struggle like that anymore, especially knowing that she was the reason he was having to face this in the middle of lecture.

As Stanfill started on the unit, (Y/N) could only halfway listen when her attention was placed on the boy beside her who couldn't seem to get comfortable in his own skin. His leg was restless as it bounced under the table, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his teeth chewing his bottom lip. She could feel his eyes flicking to her every few seconds, his gaze unable to settle before it was flitting across the room once more.

Harry had made it only ten minutes into class before he crossed the space between their chairs, leaning close to her though he didn't dare touch her. His lips were level with her ear, though she knew he was making a point to keep a distance, with only a tickle of his breath being felt against her neck.

"(Y/N)... I can explain. I jus' need t—"

"Mr. Styles, is there a problem back there?"

He froze for a moment under the attention, (Y/N) fully expecting Harry to back down and offer a polite no, sir, before melting back into his seat. Instead, she was shocked to find him shoveling his things back into his bag with frantic hands.

"Actually, sir," he started, giving (Y/N) a pleading look, "(Y/N) and I need to be excused. My apologies."

Harry grabbed for her elbow, urging her to grab her things in a scramble before he led her from the silent lecture hall. Not once did (Y/N) see even a tint of blush climb Harry's features.

Out in the hall, the clang of the heavy doors falling shut echoed loudly through the empty space. Harry didn't stop there, continuing to tug her through the doors leading to the quad, the corridor seemingly too small for the extent of his whirlwind feelings. Out on the green, only a small study group could be seen gathered in the far corner meters away beside the grandiose fountain (Y/N) passed on her way to the library, leaving them virtually alone.

She stayed back under the cover of the portico, her book bag tucked under her arm as she watched Harry pace over the grass that surrounded the building. His hands were relentless, digging through his hair and throwing the strands askew.

And, she thought she felt guilty keeping the information from him.

"So," he sighed, his feet coming to a standstill planted in the grass, "You know?"

"Mhm," she gulped, nodding her head despite the fact his eyes were trained on his feet, "I found you a few months ago but I just realized it was you."

When he raised his hands, (Y/N) expected another round of messing his hair, but instead he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He couldn't even look at her.

"And?"

She struggled with how to put her thoughts into words, unsure of how to make any of it make sense to him when it barely made sense to herself. "Well, it's definitely not what I expected... I never thought you'd..."

Her useless words trailed off, her half explanation hanging in the air when she realized she didn't know what else to say. What a supportive girlfriend she was; she couldn't even reassure him when he had so clearly taken her spot on the edge.

Harry's chest expanded with a shaky breath, his head shaking in jerking nods at her half-baked sentence. "Okay," he breathed, the words breaking under the weight of his anxiety, "Okay." When he finally managed to pull his hands from his face and look at her, his tear-sheened eyes were tinged with a red that matched the embarrassed hue of his cheeks, "I—uh—I have to go, (Y/N). I'll... I'll talk to you later."

"Wait, Har—"

Before she could even finish, he was rushing away with his bag banging against his knees and his  hand visibly tugging at his curls. He didn't stop or even slow at the sound of her protest—(Y/N) could have even argued that he walked away faster.

Shit.

—————

inertia is the law that dictates if any outside force is given to an object, its course will change

only one part left:( this one def has a lot of what everyone was waiting for and speculating over so I really hope it measures up to the ideas I heard!!! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! lmk if you have any ideas for the next part or requests of your own!!

Blame this guy named tony for this ok😭

Every 7 seconds for the last million years

🥺🥺🥺

LOVE'S A GAME, WANNA PLAY?

HARRY'S MASTERLIST | NERD!HARRY UNIVERSE

Summary: Y/N returns from shopping and meets his brother's best friends, even though the shy one seems to steal her attention from the rest. And she wants to find out if he really is as innocent as he seems.

W/N: FIRST PIECE OF THE NERD!HARRY X POPULAR YN UNIVERSE. it'll be the same as since forever AND gangrry, mostly they'll be blurbs! i wanna clarify that i write Y/N with alexa demie in mind though i will always write a NEUTRAL reader. enjoy this, love u ♡

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Y/N wasn't bad at school.

Seriously! even though she occasionally got into fights, she wasn't a complete genius but she passed her exams, and that was enough for her parents to be proud of her and let her do anything she wanted.

The amount of expensive make-up in her private bathroom is proof of how spoilt she was, but she had her reasons. She was a good daughter, a good person, sometimes she could be a bitch but she had her reasons and that was if you messed with her or someone she loves.

Her older brother Zayn was also decently good, so their parents had given him a "gamer" computer to play hours and hours of online games, of course, he had to keep up his good grades. When he wasn't playing with her, he was playing with his mates on Discord, she didn't know who they were, but they treated her brother well and that was enough.

She comes back to reality when her best friend parks in front of her house after an outing to the mall. "Y/N? We're here."

"Ah! yes, sorry." She replies while chewing gum. "Thanks! I'll send you pics trying on the clothes!"

"Please avoid sending me the ones trying on the lingerie!"

Y/N enters her house laughing, dropping the bags on the kitchen island to take them to her room later. She adjusts her short skirt and walks into the big living room.

"Z, I was thinking that– hi."

"You're back." Zayn says surprised, dropping the joystick on his lap.

He wasn't alone, four guys were with him sprawled out on the sofa, all looking at her in awe. Y/N smiles as she notices the look on the faces of three of them, but one seemed uneasy when she came into the room.

He didn't seem to fit in with the others... he had a beanie with brown locks escaping from it, his eyes were forest green, and he was wearing a God Of War hoodie that made him look ridiculous but cute at the same time. Everyone was brimming with confidence and self-esteem, except him.

"You didn't tell me you had company." She smiles as she chews her gum. "Hey, boys."

The (clearly dyed) blond is the first to speak, shaking his hand in greeting. "Hey, I'm Niall."

The other two introduce themselves in a bad attempt at flirting that makes Y/N roll her eyes internally, until it's the turn of the one who had caught her attention.

"M'Harry." He just mumbles, but it's enough for her to smile at him and put all her weight on her left leg, making her hips stand out.

"Hi Harry, I'm Y/N." She fiddles with her manicured hands. "It's a pleasure, I've never seen you around before."

"Yeah... I usually go unnoticed."

Everyone knew who she was, she was one of the most popular in school, she wasn't afraid to fight or talk, she walked the halls with pride while Harry tried to hide so as not to be disturbed.

She was so... breathtaking, every time she walked people turned to look at her, and she knew it. She knew the power she had, and somehow that made her more attractive.

But Harry doesn't have a chance, he loves reading books and playing video games and she loves... whatever she loves, he has never been with a woman and his first kiss was with a girl who felt sorry for him in a truth or dare, so it was impossible.

His blush doesn't go unnoticed by her, and she holds his gaze until he ducks it in complete embarrassment and Zayn stands up to walk towards her.

"Well, enough flirting with ma' friends, aren't you supposed to be in your room getting a face mask or some shit like tha'?" He grabs her shoulders and drags her towards the stairs.

Y/N laughs, and turns her head to wink at Harry. "Bye lads!"

All of them but one respond with the same energy, but as she's dragged towards her room by her older brother, she can hear a small "bye" that makes her feel a little different than all the boys she's been with.

Y/N wanted to know more about that boy in the beanie and hoodie from a game she secretly liked, and she knew she could do it. She just had to be herself, and she was perfect at it.

Make This Feel Like Home

Prompt: Y/N finally realizes how much Harry loves her. She’s known but her stubbornness has always got in the way. It finally hits her - Harry really fucking loves her.

word count: 5k

warnings: violence, language, angst

* this could be triggering to read - please take care of yourself first.

*** <– click for visuals.

reblog, rec, like, please come chat to me about it!

buy me a diet coke? 

–

Harry had been asking Y/N to move in with him for multiple months at this point. If they were being honest, he’d offered for her to move in after the first month together.

He tried to bit his tongue constantly over where she lived. It was unsafe, in a high-crime area of town, and it didn’t make sense for her to live there when there was a massive home waiting for her.

It’s been a year and a half, they’re engaged, and happier than ever. Harry tries not to take it personal when she says ‘no.’ It’s hard not to feel saddened by it. It almost feels like rejection.

He hasn’t wanted to pressure her into it either. 

She was at his house more than her own rundown apartment. It was rarer that she was at her own then at his but yet tittered and dismissed it when Harry wanted to talk about her moving.

She’s worried about losing her independence that she’s worked so hard for in her young adult life.

Y/N knows as soon as she moves in, Harry will be paying for all the utilities and everything else that comes along with it. (He paid for his house in straight cash so no mortgage.)

Then she’ll be relying on him to support her because she couldn’t afford the bills and she already knew he wouldn’t let her contribute.

She wanted to move with him badly. She hated her shitty apartment where the power went out for hours on end, the noise levels were always through the roof, and the hallway constantly smells of weed.

Who wouldn’t rather be in Harry’s luxurious mansion with all the amenities that anyone could ask for. 

But more importantly, she’d be with the love of her life.

It wasn’t walking distant to the pub and there was no bus close enough for her to hope on to get to the events at the museum. She didn’t have a car and she knew that Harry would immediately offer up one from his collection or purchase her a new one.

Harry sat at the pub bar, waiting for Y/N to get off of her shift. These late nights were taking a toll on him after a year and a half. He’d wait for her so he could either take her back to his place or drop her off at home so she didn’t have to walk home alone.

It meant that he was at the bar until midnight then had to be up for work by six in the morning most days. She never asked him to do what he does but he wasn’t going to risk having something happen to her.

When she’s finally done, swinging her purse over her shoulder, she steps out from behind the bar and trots over to her fiance. Her hand rubbing over his somewhat tense shoulders and tired eyes.

“M’ready,” Y/N tells him, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bar.

“Y’comin’ to mine?” Harry murmurs tiredly, pressing the key fob to open his sleek, shiny black Mercedes that stuck out among the other cars lined on the side street.  ***

Seguir leyendo

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࿐ྂ who wants her? | v.h.

          —  pairing: vinnie x reader           —  word count: ~200           —  summary: snoozin’ while vinnie’s chattin’

          ࿐ྂ

“Yo, chat. Lemme show you something…”

Vinnie adjusts his phone’s camera, focusing on his beloved lump-of-a-girlfriend (you), curled within those coal-grey bedsheets, and not to mention his favorite tanned feline is snug at your side, tail curling and swaying.

“Chat, tell me why this lil woman waltzed in here like she owned the place, kissed and loved up on my cat, used my bathroom, and then fell asleep in my bed? Look, look…”

He zooms in on your visage, pretty as you are, even when you’re snoozin’ away like this.

“She’s kinda drooling, though. Ew. Who wants her?”

It takes two seconds for Vinnie’s comment section to flood with a barrage of fans playfully claiming you for themselves, though his gaze tries to skim through the blur of words. 

“Nah, none of you can actually have her, chat. I’m sorry,” he’s quick to retract his false offer, and he leans down where his lips fall gently against the warmth of your forehead. Vinnie’s sweet, sweet kiss lingers to wish a good night’s rest upon you before he decides to withdraw, grinning wide for the absolutely frenzied live chat as he admits in earnest:

“I think I’d fall apart without her.” 

          ࿐ྂ

GRACIAS UMA X TANTO TE AMO

on september 29, the since forever universe turned one year old and there are already more than 100 things written about them, all thanks to you <3

yes, i'm the one who writes, but the ideas are yours, so i always say that we, together, create them.

i wanted to make a special of them so i decided to dedicate a whole week to post blurbs!

hope you like them, see you every day 🫶!

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monday 7: Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Styles Make 'Daylight' Music Video for $300 for The Late Late Show w/ James Corden. (fluff) (2022) → AVAILABLE NOW!

tuesday 8: That pic of LOT Munich. (smut, fluff) (2022) → AVAILABLE NOW!

wednesday 9: The first fight blurb. (angst, fluff) (2010) → AVAILABLE NOW!

thursday 10: MSG night 6 and the announcement of Midnights (smut, fluff) (2022)

friday 11: Harry gets Y/N's name tattooed on him, and she does something too. (fluff) (2013)

saturday 12: Harry Styles and girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N read thirst tweets about her. (fluff, sexual themes) (2019)

sunday 13: The first date blurb. (fluff) (2010)

monday 14: Special surprise. (?) (?)