#Alexa play fine line by Harry styles

[bigglecakes]

“You kissed me, whispered stories in my ear. You sang to me and held me as I slept. Your laughed chased me into waking.”

She knew she shouldn’t speak, but she couldn’t help herself.

“And what did you do Matthias? What did you do to me in your dreams?”

His eyes were blue fire.

“Everything.”

[tsumtsumrry]

Alexa

      the one with the hands 

5.8k words; friends to lovers, frattry (frat boy harry), tour harry, fluff and a bit of angst (something a little different than usual)

this made me really...nostalgic? so i listened to one direction for the first time in a long time and played you & i the whole time i wrote this. it was an experience to say the least. 

Harry doesn’t know why he’s doing it, but he can’t take his eyes off of her hands. They look so soft and small. He imagines what they would feel like intertwined with his, or running through his hair. He’s just pathetically staring at her hands.

“Y’know that everyone can tell y’staring.” Niall says, his mouth right by Harry’s ear to prevent everybody else from hearing their conversation.

Harry just hums as some sort of acknowledgment and Niall follows his line of vision. “You’re staring at her hands?” He says with a tone of obvious confusion.

Harry guesses it might be weird to anyone else that he’s so infatuated with her hands but he can’t help it. Usually when he’s attracted to someone they look at their lips, or their eyes, imagine what it would feel like to touch their soft skin, but now all he’s thinking about is Alexa’s hands.

Alexa is one of the assistants on the tour. She gets the boys coffee, makes sure they’re ready, all the usual assistant stuff. She got the job due to a family friend that had a connection. She’s twenty and she’s trying to pay for uni, and she’s extremely shy and can’t hold a conversation with anyone for more than a minute (at least from what he’s seen.) And that’s all he knows about her.

Oh and, she has pretty hands.

It’s no secret among the boys that Harry fancies her a bit. They tease him about it endlessly and if he’s being honest he would tease himself if he were them too.

It’s pathetic how much she draws him in. As soon as he hears her small voice or smells her signature vanilla scent he feels a rush of what feels like dopamine and his mood is instantly brought up.

He seeks her out and always requests that she and only she get her what he needs when she tends to her assistant duties.

“I mean I get why you’re staring at ‘em, imagine what’d be like to get a handy with those soft ha-” Niall teases but Harry interjects with a disappointed scoff.

“Come off it. Don’t be rude.” He speaks softly and cautiously, almost like he’s worried she’ll hear their conversation even though she’s at least fifteen feet away and wouldn’t even know what they’re talking about.

“You know I’m just teasing, Harry.” Niall says, walking away quickly engaged in a conversation with someone else.

Harry thinks about how Niall is a little disrespectful for thinking about her in that way, but as soon as the idea was planted in his head, he felt his cock give a quick twitch.

“For fucks sake.” he whispers, looking down at his pants for a second as if he could command himself to relax.

“Everything okay?” he hears and his head shoots up embarrassingly quick.

He’s met with Alexa who has a smile on her face, he can see in her eyes that she’s a little confused or concerned, but keeps a smile on her face regardless.

Had she just caught him staring at his pants?

“Mhm―I’m fine just...yeah I’m fine.”

Harry doesn’t think he could be any more of a bellend than in this moment.

“I’m sorry it’s just, Niall told me you needed help with something?”

Of fucking course.

To Alexa’s surprise, he laughs. He laughs a little harder than he should and Alexa is just sitting there staring at him with semi-widened eyes.

“Mr. Styles are you alright?”

His laughter ceases immediately and he shoots her a blank look, “how many times have I told you not to call me that. S’just Harry to you.”

“Sorry, sorry Mr―Harry.” he chuckles and Alexa smiles softly, only maintaining eye contact with him for a second before she looks away quickly.

“Do you want a coffee or something? I feel weird just standing here without getting you something…” Alexa mumbles and Harry’s face falls. Her words served a (very) painful reminder that she just worked for him. She was forced to be around him. Doesn’t mean she liked him. After all she only came up to him because Niall told her he needed help with something. Harry feels pathetic.

“No...no thank you.” he murmurs and Alexa nods quickly and turns on her heel to walk away.

Harry doesn’t understand why he can’t just talk to her. Every other “employee” feels like a friend (or even family) to him. Why can’t he cross that line with the one person he wants to? ************************

Adrenaline from the concert is still running high, Harry’s heart is rapidly beating, his head is pounding (in the best way), and he feels like he could  climb Mount Everest. All of that is only amplified when he sees her though. She’s running towards them quickly, clutching her purse in her hand and trying way too hard not to make eye contact with anyone.

“You guys have some sort of party to go to and I need you ready quickly.” she says, her words coming out fast-paced and rushed. Harry just smiles at her.

She’s subconsciously picking a ball of lint off of Harry’s shirt with a concentrated look on her face when his voice startles her. “Did you like the show?” he questions with a way too big smile.

“Always do.” she mumbles. “Now please go get into the shower. We have places to be.” she pats his shoulder gently and his skin ignites with the contact. She looks up at him in question and it’s only then that he realizes he’s just been standing there like a fucking idiot for quite a while.

“Are you coming with us?” he asks, trying to save himself from the awkward situation(s) he always seems to keep creating with her.

“Kinda have to, H.” she responds with a quick smile and his heart soars at the nickname/term of endearment he insisted that she call him a couple weeks ago. She said she liked it because it sounded friendly and formal and he just laughed and agreed.

“Right. See you there.”

“See you.” she laughs.

*************** The party is just as crowded as Harry thought it would be, and he’s a little more than thrilled that Alexa is clinging to him, trying not to get lost or trampled. Every time she gets nudged or bumped into, her hands, (her soft, pretty, fucking delectable hands), tighten around his bicep and he has to fight off a hum of satisfaction every time.

They get to a part of the venue that’s not so crowded and Harry grasps her arm gently, “you alright?” he asks, having to yell a little due to the loud noise around them.

She nods and smiles. “The whole point of this party is for you, you know? You’re supposed to be shaking hands and kissing babies. Go.” she says, giving him a light playful shove.

He rolls his eyes and then nods, “just yell if y’need anything, yeah?”

She nods quickly, “sir, yes sir.”

And then he’s off, venturing into the party and meeting new people.

Harry thinks this is one of his least favorite parts of the famous thing though. He loves a good party, don’t get him wrong, but that high of adrenaline he felt before is starting to wear off and he really just wants to have a good rest.

They’re on tour in Europe right now and he remembers no one will be alarmed or ask any question if he has a little bit of alcohol. So he walks up to the bar and tries to keep ordering drinks to stay awake. He realizes his logic is a little flawed once he gets to the seventh drink and can barely keep his eyes open.

He feels a soft, gentle hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around so fast it makes him dizzy. He finally focuses his vision on the person trying to get his attention and it’s none other than Alexa, with a worried expression on her face. 

“Lexi!” Harry exclaims loudly. Way too loudly. He sees Alexa having some sort of silent exchange with the bartender with a slight shake of her head and a nod of theirs. Harry assumes she’s telling them that he doesn’t need anything else to drink, and he supposes she’s right. He probably shouldn’t have drank as much as he did.

Alexa manages to get him down from the stool and walk him over to the rest of the band. “He’s pretty wasted. Should I just get a car for him back to the hotel?”

“She thinks I’m pretty,” he whispers to himself.

Harry doesn’t even realize what’s going on before he’s in the back of a car. He’s worried for a bit before he catches a glimpse of Alexa, who looks at him every so often to make sure he’s ok. His heart internally jumps at the fact that she cares enough to check on him to make sure he’s not dying of alcohol poisoning.

“I called you Lexi earlier.” he mumbles almost unintelligible and Alexa’s head snaps in his direction.

“Hmm?”

“I called you Lexi earlier.” He says clearer. “I’ve never done that before. Am I allowed to call you Lexi?”

“Sure, H.”

“I like it when you call me H. Makes me feel special. Like I’m one of your friends. Are we friends, Lexi?”

Alexa feels like she’s intruding on a private moment, even though he’s talking to her. She certainly wouldn’t want anyone listening to what she says when she’s drunk. She would feel terrible if Harry woke up in the morning and was overwhelmed with embarrassment.

“Of course we are, H. Try to sleep.”

He nods slowly and lays his head down in her lap. She’s taken by surprise at first but then remembers he’s extremely drunk and is probably acting out of character. He just needed a pillow, she thinks.

Almost as if it was compulsory, she starts tangling her hands in his soft head of hair, brushing through it delicately and gently taking out knots when she encounters them.

It’s not until he moans out in appreciation that she realizes what she was doing and quickly takes her hand away, worried that the sound he let out was one of discomfort.

He finally got to feel the comfort of her soft hands, he’ll be damned if his time with them is cut short.

The second her hand leaves his hair he lets out a whine and pats the seat with his hand until he finds hers. When he feels her hand he picks it up by the wrist, all while Alexa is looking at him with wide eyes, and plops it right back on his head, humming when she resumes her movements.

“Feels good.” is all he says before the back of the car is filled with light snoring.

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

The morning after the party Harry woke up with his head pounding. Zayn asked him at least fifteen times what was wrong and he smiled and felt warmth in his chest at the love and care his bandmate was so obviously showing, but assured him he was fine. Alexa was there first thing in the morning, knocking on Harry’s hotel room. She offered him coffee and got him into the tour bus. He was blushing profusely the whole time, but she seemed so interested in the ground below them that she barely noticed. 

When they got to the tour bus the boys were all fast asleep, which figures because they’ve probably been at the party the whole time.

“Get some sleep, H. You’re probably still tired. The busses don’t leave for another hour but I just wanted to get you here.” she mumbles and Harry smiles as best as he can when he’s on the verge of falling asleep.

They bid their goodbyes and Harry gets on his bed and closes the curtains along with his eyes only to find, he can’t sleep.

It’s about thirty minutes of just sitting there looking at the curtain before he huffs and groans dramatically into his pillow. He needs to sleep. He’s tired when he has a “full night's rest” he can only imagine how tired he’s gonna be if he doesn’t.

He peeks out his curtain a bit and giggles quietly at Zayn’s arm hanging out of his own bunk, “dork.” he mumbles with a giggle (quietly so he doesn’t wake anyone.)

He picks up his phone and sees that it’s another twenty minutes before the busses leave and suddenly an idea strikes him.

Alexa is scrolling through her phone mindlessly when she hears a gentle knock on the door of the bus. Her eyebrows furrow a bit in confusion but she quickly gets up, because if someone’s here at this time, it must be important.

She quietly walks to the front of the bus and opens the door, only to be met by Harry, who has a bit of a bedhead and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hi.”

Alexa blinks twice before she gathers the situation, “hi, H. Is something the matter?”

Harry shakes his head no, but then thinks a little about it and nods yes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t―um―I can’t sleep.” he murmurs and Alexa frowns.

“Do you want me to make you some tea? That always helps me when I can’t-”

“Can I stay here? With you?” Harry blurts out, instantly wanting to knee himself in the balls for how awkward he’s making this.

“Stay….stay here? With me?” Alexa echoes with a confused expression on her face and Harry nods shyly.

“When you...when you um played with my hair it was nice, that made me fall asleep really quickly….do you―do you think you could do it again?”

Why oh why is he stuttering so much?

Alexa just stands there dumbfounded. Only now is she realizing, though, that all she’s wearing is a tank top and shorts. She feels a little exposed.

She holds up her finger, signaling him to wait a second, before she walks back into the bus. She throws on a hoodie and quickly walks back to Harry, whose solemn tired expression gets just a little bit brighter when he sees her again.

“Come in.” she whispers, “be quiet.”

She didn’t like feeling like she was sneaking around, and neither did he, but really what choice did they have.

So she leads him to her bunk, and they lay next to each other, his hand cautiously on her waist, and her hand tangled in his hair.

He falls asleep in under ten minutes.

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

“You’re pulling.” Harry whined. Harry’s hair has grown out just a little bit, and he wanted to see if it could be put into a ponytail, and of course he asked Alexa to do it.

“I mean you won’t stay still.” she responds back, a little snarky playful tone in her voice. Harry yanked his head forward just to annoy her and she giggled and shrieked “stop it!”.

“You are such a child.” she muttered and he nodded his head with a smirk on his face.

It’s been a month and couple of weeks since Harry snuck into Alexa’s bunk and slept with the comfort of her soft hands in his hair. Since then, it’s become obvious that they grew closer. They knew it and everyone else knew it. They were glued to the hip (Harry never left her alone) and Harry never wanted to go anywhere if Alexa wasn’t there.

He had a bit of a crush.

“Done.” Alexa said with a sigh. “That took forever. Your hair is a little bit too short still.” she said with a sympathetic smile while she gets up to go pick up a mirror.

She positions the mirror in front of Harry and he smiles like he’s getting ready for a picture. Alexa scoffs but when Harry finally looks at his hair he breathes out a sort of shocked laugh.

“Do you like it?” Alexa says cautiously, suddenly thinking he hates it.

“Are you kidding? I look hot.” he says with a smirk, moving his head around to get a look at all the different angles. Alexa giggles and Harry looks up from the mirror to see it. Harry always thought her smile was beautiful, but it lit up even more when she laughed. That’s why he tried to make her laugh as much as he could. He only wanted her happy.

“I’m gonna wear it when we perform tonight.”

Alexa gasps and shakes her head quickly, “no you aren’t. Miss Teasedale would kill me.”

“What is with you and calling everyone by their last names?” Harry says with a laugh, also trying to distract her. Because he was, in fact, gonna keep the hairstyle in during his performance.

“It shows respect.” she says like it’s obvious and Harry just smiles at her. He finds himself doing that a lot. Just looking at her and smiling. He figures it’s because she has that effect on people, that she just makes people want to smile.

“Come on, Harry we’ve got to go.” Niall says, barging into the room, startling Alexa, but not Harry since he heard his heavy footsteps and knew his was coming.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, alright?” He gives Niall a look, a look that he’s praying he’ll understand. There’s something he was planning to do today, something that he’s never had the courage to. He’s going to ask Alexa out, take her out to a date, sweep her clean off her feet, and live happily ever after. The end.

Niall nods slowly with a knowing look on his face, his mouth formed into a “o”.

 Alexa, who’s obviously confused, looks between the two of them with a raised eyebrow. “Right. I’ll leave you two to it.” Niall walks out and leaves Alexa looking back to Harry with a ‘you saw that two, right?’ expression.

For fucks sake, Niall.

She expects Harry to laugh, but all of a sudden he has a serious expression on his face, like he’s conflicted. And Alexa being the caring person she is, rushes to his side to see what’s wrong.

Harry takes this as an opportunity though, as soon as she’s within reach, he takes hold of her upper arms, gently, making sure not to startle her.

“I have to...tell you something.” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alexa nods, a serious look taking over her face too. She’s curious to say the least. What he has to say seems extremely important and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or not. At least he didn’t say “we need to talk.” Right?

“I…..I―um…” he’s fumbling, he’s fumbling so bad and suddenly he feels stupid. He feels small and stupid and like a fucking idiot for thinking he could ever do this in the first place. For thinking that this perfect, angelic girl in front of him would ever see him as more than the kid from the boy band she gives coffee to. He feels so fucking stupid.

“I’m so happy you’re my friend.”

You fucking stupid stupid stupid idiot, he thinks.

He figures he can at least try to save himself.

“You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, on this tour, in my life, and you are so so important to me. Don’t make fun of me for being sappy. I just―I really, I really love you.”

  He meant every word he said, he just wishes she knew he meant the last part in a different way than she thought.

Alexa is looking up at him in shock, she never expected those words to come from Harry’s mouth. He’s super affectionate, yes, but he’s never just outright told her how he felt about her. She blinks a couple times before she smiles.

Her smile, her fucking smile. Harry’s never seen anything like her smile.

In one swift moment, she wraps her arms around him, taking him in a tight, loving hug. “You’re my best friend too, H. I love you.”

Harry has to fight off the intense urge to cry and laugh at the same time. He wishes he could kiss her.

Why couldn’t he just say it?

A knock on the door breaks them apart, they find Louis at the door with a knowing look on his face. Harry thinks he probably listened to the whole conversation and he gives him an annoyed look.

“We” he motions between him and Harry “have to go. Make out with your wife later.”

Alexa feels heat rise to her face and she watches as Harry’s own face tints. She giggles a bit and Louis sends her a tight smile.

“I’ll text you. Swear it.” Harry says as he’s being ushered out the door by an annoyed Louis.

They close the door behind them and leave a very giddy Alexa, biting her lip and practically shaking with some emotion she can’t really put her finger on, but she loves the feeling of it.

“Just tell her you’re in love with her mate. For god’s sake.” Louis says, throwing his head back dramatically, earning a shy smile from a pink-cheeked Harry.

“M’not in love with her. S’just a crush.” He mumbles.

Harry’s starting to think it’s not “just a crush”. He’s starting to think it’s never been “just a crush”.

*********** Harry is sitting on a table at a random bar, drunk out of his mind, waiting for a date that he specifically told one of his friends he didn’t want to go to.

He feels his phone buzz, and takes it out to see who it is. When he sees “lexi <3” his whole body starts to buzz along with his phone.

Lexi <3: Running a little late are we?

Harry frowns, running a little late? What is she talking about?

Shit.

Harry had been so caught up, he forgot the plans he had made with his best friend. Guilt bubbles it’s way through his belly, and he suddenly has the urge to cry.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he forgot about her, so he figures one little white lie won’t hurt. He’ll just spend time with her tomorrow and everything about this day will be forgotten, he’s not planning on staying here any longer anyways.

Harry: Sorry love, got caught up at rehearsal. See you tomorrow xx H

He puts his phone away, not wanting to think about the fact that he just lied to the one person he’s never had or wanted to lie to. 

Alexa stares at her phone, watching the text pop up. Her lips dip down at the corners and she feels her chest tighten.

“Is he ok? What’d he say?” Niall asks with his arm loosely around Alexa’s shoulder. He notices how it slumps a bit, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

Alexa clears her throat and looks at the floor, “he said he’s stuck at….rehearsal.”

Niall’s face changes drastically, from his usual happy smile to a deep frown.

“Rehearsal?” All four of the boys in the room ask.

Here Alexa was, standing in a room with four out of five of One direction, wondering why the one missing was lying to her.

And it’s not the first time either, he’s been cancelling plans and blowing her off a lot lately. At first, she chalked it up to him being busy. He is an actual popstar, naturally he’d have shit to do, but now that she’s found out he’s actively lying to her, she can’t lie and say that it doesn’t sting a bit.

“It’s nothing.” she brushes it off with a shrug. “I’ll see you guys later.” she walks out of the room, leaving all the boys with confused frowns on their faces.

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

“Lex! Alexa!” Harry shouts, trying to catch up with Alexa who only starts walking faster. Harry catches her though, and grabs her arm gently with a light squeeze.

He feels her tense and watches her dart her eyes anywhere but him.

“You didn’t answer my text, I was wondering if you wanted to go out today? There’s this really cool movie, that I know you’d like, that’s out right now.” He watches her face, hoping for her beautiful smile or that giddy nod she does whenever he makes plans with her, but he sees none of it.

“Are you alright, Lex?”

Alexa tries her hardest not to scoff and just nods. “I’m fine, Harry.”

Harry. Never in their entire time of knowing each other, has she ever (seriously) called him Harry. He’s never hated his own name more.

“Alexa―” Harry starts but she walks past him, trying her best to avoid any contact with him and decides that she’s better off continuing her job elsewhere.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself at this very moment, he’s mind is racing, trying to find a plausible explanation for why Alexa is acting this way. His chest is starting to hurt, his throat getting sore, she’s never been cold with him like that before. She’s never called him Harry before. Why didn’t she call him H?

Harry sees Liam walk ahead of him, going straight to Alexa and slinging an arm around her shoulder, he presses a kiss to her forehead and then looks at her with an earnest concerned expression on his face. Harry sees him mouth the words “are you ok?” to which she shakes her head and gives him an actual honest answer. Harry swears that he feels his heart literally shatter in his chest.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s standing there, lips parted, eye glassy. He clears his throat and walks away to the nearest bathroom, all of the pain swirling around in his mind mixed with the copious amount of alcohol he consumed last night, has him emptying the contents of his stomach. He wishes he never went out.

************ It’s been two weeks. Alexa still hasn’t uttered a word to Harry, aside from asking if he wants a coffee and what not. It’s killing him. Every time she looks at him and the warmth is gone from her eyes, it kills him. He’s noticed the boys are like her bodyguards now, always around her, hugging her and asking if she’s okay. He would find it adorable and endearing if he didn’t know exactly who they were “protecting” her from. His own stupid self.

His heart cracks every time he sees her and Zayn together, they’ve gotten exceptionally close, closer than she was with all of the other boys. He loves Zayn, but he hates that he’s the one seeing her beautiful smile while she won’t even look at him.

He’s being brave today, though. He’s decided that he’s done with not being able to talk to someone he loves so much. Is she as tortured as he is? She has to be, she told him she loved him, so she has to be feeling as tortured as he is. Right?

“Hi.”

Alexa jumps at the unmistakable sound of Harry’s voice, Zayn’s laughing ceases and he looks up at Harry, who’s towering both of them since they’re sitting down.

“Can I talk to you?” Harry asks cautiously, fidgeting with the few rings on his fingers. He feels awkward standing here in front of her in Zayn. It kind of feels like Zayn has taken Harry’s spot, and saying Harry feels small and uncomfortable is an understatement.

He figures it’s not hard to fall into a great friendship with Zayn though. He’s one of the kindest, most loving people Harry has ever met, and if Alexa is replacing him with someone, he’s glad it’s Zayn.

Alexa looks over to Zayn for a second, like she’s unsure, and he nods in encouragement. Harry feels like he could kiss Zayn for that. He looks back at Alexa with a pleading look in his eyes, hoping she’ll at least give him a chance to talk to her.

“Sure.” she finally says, and Harry’s tense shoulders slump in relief.

Harry hates how they’re walking together, a couple feet apart, looking at the ground, not saying anything. What happened to them?

“What happened to us, Lex?” He speaks his thoughts out loud, effectively stopping Alexa in her tracks. “I really don’t know what happened. We were great….and then we….weren’t.”

Alexa frowns, she thought the boys would’ve told him by now.

Alexa doesn't know if they should avoid this conversation any longer, so she decides to just tell him, “you weren’t being honest with me, and it hurt. I can’t trust someone if they aren’t being honest with me.”

What is she talking about? She doesn’t trust him?

“What? I’ve―I’ve never been dishonest with you...I―” he pauses.

Shit.

He’s only lied to her twice, all the times he’s pretended like it wasn’t head over heels for her (if you don’t count them individually), and that time he told her he was “stuck at rehearsal”. He doesn’t know which one her finding out was worse.

But he has a feeling he knows which one.

“Lex, I―”

“It’s fine, Harry. I’ve gotten over it.” Really? Cause you haven’t spoken a word to me in two weeks, Harry wants to say, but he knows he has no right. He’s the one that lied to her, not the other way around. He shouldn’t be upset with her, he should be upset with himself.

“But you don’t trust me.” he comes to the conclusion on his own, and Alexa tries not to wince at the hurt in his voice.

“I’ll fix it then. I’ll fix us. You’ll trust me again. I swear it.” he promises. He’s not going to let this go, this perfect thing they have, go. Not if he can help it.

And so he did. He made sure to follow through with all the plans he curated, every promise he whispered to her. Alexa doesn’t know how he did it, but he made every single thing he did feel like a promise. A promise they both knew that he wasn’t going to break.

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

Harry was nervous. He was fidgeting, he already sweat through an entire shirt (then took a shower because he felt gross), and now he’s pacing, while the boys are trying to get him to “sit the fuck down and calm the fuck down” (those were Louis’ words).

Harry was finally going to do it. He was going to ask Alexa out and not fuck it up this time. He was very hopeful, and so was the rest of the band.

Alexa had been sent on a bogus coffee run for all of the boys, they had been specific in saying that they wanted Starbucks, not the coffee from the machine. She was suspicious at first, but she knew that those boys were weird, and it was her job. If they really wanted something, she would get it.

Little did she know that Harry was freaking out, waiting until she got back to finally do the thing he should’ve done that first time when he chickened out.

“Alright boys! I got your coffee-” she looks up and realizes Harry is the only one standing there, “where is everyone?”

“Not important.” he dismisses quickly and Alexa snickers.

“Well if they aren’t here I got your coffee. Here let me-”

Harry steps forward, takes the cardboard coffee holder out of her hand, all of his movements slow.

“I need to ask you something.” Harry tells her, trying to collect his nerves.

He’s doing this, he’s not going to chicken out.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Harry finally says, and although he’s still scared shitless, saying those words to her felt like an intense weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

Alexa, standing there dumbfounded, blinked a couple of times before she registered his question. Then she smiled. That beautiful, intoxicating, room brightening, megawatt smile.

“Of course I’ll go out with you, H.” she responds, her voice soft. So soft it’s sending Harry into a fucking daze.

“Jesus, had me scared you were gonna say no.” he chuckles, staring at her lips and her eyes, switching between the two.

“Never.” she smirks.

“I swear I’m a gentleman but I’ve been waiting to kiss you for months. Can I?”

Alexa nods with a whisper of yes, Harry wastes no time connecting their lips. He doesn’t add any tongue (because he’s a gentleman), but he molds their lips together slowly and passionately. Her lips are soft like velvet and Harry’s is on the textbook definition of cloud nine.

Their lips break apart and Harry fights the urge to whine, instead he pouts dramatically, “more, please.”

Alexa smirks with a hint of lust in her eyes and connects their lips again, this time taking the lead and Harry hums into the kiss, partly by how good it feels and partly by the hint of dominance he felt from her in the kiss.

“I’ll have that coffee now.” he says when their lips reluctantly come apart.

“Hmm” she hums comically “will you now?”

“Very much so.” he’s interrupted by another peck on the lips and he hums in satisfaction at it. She brings his soft hands up to his face to hold him there so she can kiss him deeper and he moans at the feeling. “Fuck, never should’ve let me kiss you.”

“Mmm...why is that?” Alexa whispers against his lips.

“Never gonna stop. M’addicted. You’re a drug, you dangerous woman.”

Alexa snickers while Harry has a satisfied smirk on his face. He pecks her again with an exaggerated hum before he kisses her cheeks, her nose, then her forehead with a smile. “I have to go, but I’ll FaceTime you tonight, yeah?” He gives her another soft peck, “don’t fall asleep.” he says in faux sternness.

“Won’t. See you, H. Love you.” she tells him and then he groans dramatically.

“See, now I have to kiss you again. So bloody dangerous, baby.”

Her heart flutters at the pet name and she smirks. “Don’t ever stop kissing me.”

“Careful what you wish for.” he quips back with a smirk.

  “Mmk I really have to go now, really wish I could stay here and make out with you all day but I can’t.” Another quick peck, “bye...bye. Love you.”

Harry walked out of the room, only to see the boys standing on the side of it with excited looks on their faces. Harry only nods with a smile on his face and a elated look in his eyes and they erupt in cheers.

Alexa knows exactly what’s going on on the other side of the door and she giggles lightly, feeling quite elated herself. That feeling of giddiness is back, and she finally knows what it is. Love. Not a platonic love. A soul-crushing romantic love that only gets stronger every time she looks at his structured face.

She can tell they’re happy on the other side of the door, but do they want their coffee?

[shadyslimee]

Help girl I can’t stop thinking about by divorced parents at the Grammys 😭

[hyunjining]

i see louis is in control of the christmas playlist

[sunchosens]

the way that literally everyone i wanted to vote for has dropped out of the race and my election day isnt until may.... damn

[lovecanyon]

IM UP! IM AWAKE! IM HERE! IM ACTIVE!!

INSTAGRAM BLURB

harry x director!y/n

MASTERLIST | PATREON

-

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ynupdates Y/N ARRIVING IN VENICE ITALY LAST NIGHT FOR THE 79TH ANNUAL VENICE FILM FESTIVAL

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ynfan7 YES YES YES

harryfan10 she looks so stressed out

ynfan6 if paparazzi was following you how would you feel

harryfan13 are you guys forgetting she just had a kid a few months ago?

ynfan11 she came to slay

harryfan14 yeah her and harry definitely broke up 🫠

ynfan16 do not…please

harryfan18 y/n has that single person glow

ynfan12 can everyone just leave her alone

harryfan15 leave mother alone!

ynfan19 SLAYED

harryfan17 is everyone just ignoring the fact that she’s the director and is probably very busy since dwd is coming out soon…most likely she’s still with harry

ynfan20 right…harry literally has a baby with her, he’s never going to break up with her 😭

harryfan22 monday is going to be HELL

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harryflorals HARRY AND Y/N AT THEIR HOTEL IN VENICE TODAY!

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ynfan25 i knew they were still together

harryfan27 YOU ALL ARE GOING TO HELL 😭

ynfan29 the way he’s grabbing her chin…don’t talk to me

harryfan26 i can’t do this

ynfan28 NAURRRR

harryfan30 alexa play fine line by harry styles

ynfan32 THEY ARE SO CUTE

harryfan34 i can’t believe i’m saying this but…yes they are 💔

ynfan31 hottest couple ever

harryfan33 harry…count your days

ynfan35 why are they giving jack and alice vibes 🤭

harryfan37 so y/n is still with harry…good for her

ynfan39 we all survived the cheating rumors

harryfan36 i didn’t even believe them…harry and y/n are the type of couple to stay together forever…

ynfan40 crying over this

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papermagazine Y/N L/N reportedly will not be attending Don’t Worry Darling’s press conference for The Venice Film Festival because a few conflicts in her schedule came up.

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harryfan43 I’M CRYING WHAT IS HAPPENING

ynfan45 y/n leaving harry to answer all the questions is so funny

harryfan47 not florence and y/n skipping the conference 🤭

ynfan49 they are so real for that

harryfan44 isn't she the director though? this is so unprofessional…

ynfan46 y/n was the one that got the movie to be premiered at the venice film festival, let her skip the press conference if she wants

harryfan48 she can do whatever she wants…i will be there to defend her

ynfan50 chris, gemma and harry: 👁👄👁

harryfan52 what are the conflicts though

ynfan54 y/n most likely does not want to answer questions

harryfan56 florence and y/n said not today

ynfan58 i mean at least she’s going to the premiere

harryfan51 her and harry were seen together just a few hours ago…😭

ynfan53 jeff is working hard i see

harryfan55 what on earth is going on in the house of commons

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harryupdates “Our son is teething very badly and YN wouldn’t leave his side, she would’ve loved to be here but she puts our family first over work. She’s such an amazing mother, I love her so much. Thankfully she left Chris in charge instead of me.” - Harry at Don’t Worry Darling’s press conference.

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ynfan61 HE’S SO IN LOVE WITH HER IT’S SICK

harryfan63 not her putting chris in charge instead of harry

ynfan65 she knows how he answers questions 😭

harryfan67 harry looked so happy when they asked about y/n

ynfan69 he’s so hot, i don’t blame y/n for having a kid with him

harryfan62 the ring on his finger got me thinking about life…💔

ynfan64 y/n is such a good mother i can’t

harryfan66 harry talking about y/n with a smile on my face makes me cry

ynfan68 don’t bring it up again please

harryfan70 someone run me over

ynfan72 now can people stop attacking y/n for not going to the conference

harryfan74 he’s just praying on my downfall

ynfan76 “our family” literally sobbing over him saying that

harryfan78 it was so cute

ynfan71 i will be thinking about this forever

harryfan73 omg their son is teething

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florencepugh Distracting a teething baby is harder than you think. I applaud my dear friend Y/N for being such an amazing mother.

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ynfan80 STOP OMG THIS IS SO ADORABLE

harryfan82 florence and y/n hanging out wanna makes me happy 😭

yourinstagram we love you ms. flo ❤️

florencepugh I love you both very much!!! it was so fun hanging out with the two of you!!

ynfan84 i love the way they skipped the press conference and hung out together

gemmachan So very cute!!!

harryfan86 y/n is wearing harry’s sunglasses…someone please kill me

harry_lambert queen of all mothers

ynfan88 i’m crying over this

harrystyles I love my two bunnies.

yourinstagram go and finish getting ready

harrystyles Whyyyy.

harryfan81 i seriously love them together 🫠

jefezoff this duo is amazing

ynfan83 y/n is so beautiful 🫡

nickkroll one director holding a future director

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yndaily Y/N ARRIVING AT THE DWD PREMIERE FOR THE 79TH VENICE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL!

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harryfan92 MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER

ynfan94 i really didn’t think she would show up with harry

harryfan96 me either 😭

ynfan98 when they both got out of the car hand in hand i gasped

harryfan90 y/n is literally so pretty

ynfan93 the way people cheered for her the loudest…honestly i would too

harryfan95 SHE LOOKS SO HAPPY 🫠

ynfan97 y/n arrived and slayed

harryfan99 this is her moment

ynfan91 the woman behind the magic ✨

harryfan100 i love her so very much

ynfan103 dwd is my joker

harryfan105 y/n seemed so excited 🥹

ynfan107 BEST FEMALE DIRECTOR EVER

harryfan101 this is so cute

ynfan104 she’s wearing a ring…

harryfan106 harry is too 🥲

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ynharrydaily “I’m very honored to be here. I just had a baby a few months ago so events like this have felt weird to me ever since. Luckily I have my husband Harry here for comfort.” - Y/N getting interviewed by Variety for The Venice Film Festival!

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ynfan113 HELLO??? SHE LOOKS SO GOOD

harryfan115 husband…

ynfan117 i’m literally screaming 🫠

harryfan110 crying and throwing up

ynfan119 i had a feeling they got married

harryfan121 WELCOME HOME CHEATER

ynfan124 so y/n is basically mrs. styles now 😭

harryfan126 this is the cause of my downfall

ynfan128 y/n talking about harry was the sweetest thing ever

harryfan130 imagine being married to THE harry styles

ynfan132 i’m emotionally unstable

harryfan134 listening to cinema…thank you y/n

ynfan136 y/n causally revealing that she’s married to harry…

harryfan138 if i was her i would do the same thing too

ynfan131 she’s trending on twitter…queen behavior

harryfan133 screaming into my pillow

ynfan137 y/n can’t keep surprising us like this

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harry_lambert Mrs. Styles for The Venice Film Festival.

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harryfan143 lambert…count your days

ynfan140 NOT MRS. STYLES 😭

yourinstagram i love you lambyyyy, thank you for everything!

harry_lambert i love you more more darling ❤️

harryfan144 SHE ATE UP THE RED CARPET

jefezoff queen of all directors!!!

ynfan142 y/n is the literal definition of a milf

harrystyles My beautiful wife, Mrs. Styles.

yourinstagram you are the love of my life, h!

harryfan145 i’m so sick right now

alessandro_michele truly the best woman i know

ynfan147 loving the y/n content

annetwist my daughter in law is so gorgeous 🤍

harryfan148 I WOULD MARRY Y/N AND WRITE ALBUMS ABOUT HER TOO

pillowpersonpp i love her so much!!!!

ynfan150 4 + 4 =

harris_reed OH. MY. GOD.

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yourinstagram venice with my love!

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harryfan208 HARRY’S SMILE

ynfan202 the caption 😭

harrystyles One of the best days ever.

yourinstagram you are so cute!

harryfan204 banging my head against the wall

glenne_azoff you both are so adorable

ynfan209 harry looks so happy omg

harryfan211 right…and most likely it’s because of y/n 🫠

kidharpoon mr and mrs. styles, i adore you!!!

ynfan213 this relationship is so cute 🥲

florencepugh you both put a smile on my face!!! 💕

harryfan215 and what if y/n took this picture of harry…

ynfan217 she probably did…

emmalouisecorrin you two are so cute together

harryfan219 I CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS

brittany_broski thank you for this mrs. styles

ynfan212 i’m sobbing

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variety Our first look of Y/N Styles in her film, Don’t Worry Darling.

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harryfan223 on my knees

ynfan225 THIS MOVIE IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME

harrystyles So so so gorgeous.

yourinstagram spit on me like you spit on chris pine, harry!

harrystyles Gladly darling.

harryfan227 WHAT 😭😭

ynfan227 they know about the spitting rumors omg

gemmachan a true goddess!!!

harryfan229 MILF MILF MILF

harry_lambert screamingggg

ynfan232 she has me in a chokehold

anthonypham now i know why harry was staring at his phone for so long

harryfan235 everything i learn is against my will 💔

pillowpersonpp i. am. so. excited.

ynfan237 THE CIGARETTE? THE DRESS??? I AM NOT GOING TO BE OKAY WHEN I WATCH DWD

nickkroll 👑 👑👑

harryfan239 she definitely got that cinema

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @academiaghosts @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @newyorker14 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @eunoiamaa @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @iluvjj @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @olivialovesh

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VII

Sunflower, my eyes

Want you more than a melody

Let me inside

Wish I could get to know you

Sunflower Vol. 6, Harry Styles

A/N: okay so this part was so much fun to write!! it originally was going to have four more scenes but uh. as we all know. i am very wordy. so the other scenes I have planned will have to be split into what will probably become two more parts and you guys will just have to deal with getting another two chapters 😌 but this part is really exciting because we are getting a lil bit of angst mixed in with harry’s general dumbassery!! love to see it love to hear it!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep cranking out nearly 30k every one to two weeks!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 26.6k

content/warnings: another good dose of denial, Fajita Friday with a side of blended margs, waking up on the wrong side of the coffin, brutal analysis of niall’s non-existent love life, ribeye!y/n x rotisseriechicken!harry, a horrible impersonation of Bob Barker, “are you there, God?  it’s me, harry,” degradation, the violation of worksafe laws through the improper use of a ladder, mild pain kink, alexa, play ‘kiss it better’ by rihanna, and the rise of kinkrry (dir. j.j. abrams)

As Harry climbs up the stairs to Y/N’s apartment the next Friday night with a bag containing tequila, orange liqueur, and limes clutched within his jeweled hand, there are two thoughts flickering through his mind.  

The first, which weighs more heavily on the vampire, is if Y/N prefers her margaritas blended or over ice, as Harry feels that tells a lot about a person, and it would be such a disappointment to realize now that Y/N isn’t a fan of the blended beverage.  The second, which should weigh more heavily on his mind if he had his priorities sorted out, is how Y/N had managed to convince him to let her cook dinner for the two of them.

In reality, it hadn’t actually taken much convincing on the mortal girl’s part at all.  When she messaged him on her lunch break earlier that day, asking what he was up to that night, Harry had sat up on his couch, drawing Niall and Xander’s attention to him in a confused manner. He’d stared at the message for only three seconds before opening his phone and pressing on her contact name.  The action had come so easily to him that he didn’t even think about hiding his eagerness to speak to her, and instead pressed his phone tight to his ear as the other line rang three times before she picked it up.

“Harry?” Her confused voice rang through his phone speaker, the sound of the bustling cafe apparent in the background. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, love. I just, uh…just wanted to talk to you, s’all.” Harry had replied, shushing the questions he could see hanging off of Niall and Xander’s lips. “How’s work today?  Busy?”

“As busy as it always is on a Friday afternoon.” Y/N answered with a sigh, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips as he heard a loud slurp through the phone, leading him to picture a stressed out Y/N sipping the last remnants of her iced latte. “But I’m over halfway through my shift, at least, so… it’s all downhill from here.  In a good way.”

Harry had nodded slowly, as if the mortal girl could see him through the phone. “I’m glad to hear that.”

His friends, however, seemed to be less glad to hear it, and paused the golf tournament that was playing on TV to stare at him with incredulous expressions on their faces. 

“Who are you talking to?” Niall had demanded, kicking his foot into Harry’s calf with more force than what was necessary. “We’re going to miss the first swing!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Xander snickered to the Irishman next to him, a devious smirk lighting up his face. “It’s that human he’s been obsessed with for the last, like, two months.  His little plaything.”

Harry had stood up then, flipping the pair off with a pointed glare before turning towards the kitchen, intent on finding some peace and quiet where he could carry on his conversation without having to worry about Y/N overhearing something she shouldn’t.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your break,” He murmured, resting his elbows over the cool marble countertop of his kitchen island that was nearly the same temperature of his skin. “But calling you seemed easier than texting.  I’m free tonight—” He always kept his Friday nights free for her; had she not realized that by now? “So I was thinking I could be at your place around eight?  Or nine?  What works for you?”

And it was then that he had heard it, breaking through the cafe ambient noise that caught Harry’s inhuman ears, and the inquisitive whispering of Niall and Xander in the other room.  As clear as if it were really right in his ear, Harry had heard the sharp intake of breath, the slow exhale that followed, and the melodic voice that he’d become so familiar with, shaking ever so slightly.

“I was, um, actually thinking you could come over a bit earlier.” Y/N had replied, the tapping of her fingertips against her back room’s linoleum table reverberating around Harry’s head. “I got groceries yesterday, and I was going to make fajitas tonight, and I realized I had enough food for two people, and so if you don’t have anything else planned—”

Harry hadn’t meant to cut Y/N off— listening to her nervous rambling is one of his favourite things, and he’d never purposefully forfeit the opportunity to hear it (and that fondness aside, cutting off her speech would be rude)— but shock overtook his body and triggered the response before he could stop it. “You want to cook me dinner?”

“I—” The speaker crackled again, and Harry could practically picture the hesitation wrinkling across Y/N’s face, the caution in her tone a clear indication of how hard she was working to stay upright on the tense tightrope known as their relationship. “Yeah, I do.  I’m not a chef or anything, but my friends and I used to cook for each other all the time, and Fajita Fridays were one of my specialties, so—”

“I would absolutely love it if you cooked for me.” A slow grin had spread over Harry’s face, pulling the dimples from his cheeks in a way that he’d recently noticed only she could. “What time should I be over?  Do you want me to pick you up from work?”

“No, that’s fine.” Y/N had assured him quickly, the breathlessness in her voice leading Harry to picture the light rush of heat that was probably working its way over her cheeks. “You can come over around six, if that works for you…?”

Harry had checked the Rolex hanging off his wrist, which displayed the time of 2:33PM back to him. “Six is perfect.” He’d replied with an airy yet firm voice, nodding to himself once again. “Can I bring anything?  Is there anything you need me to pick up?”

“Oh, uh...no.  No, you don’t need to bring anything.  Just your appetite; I make a lot of fajitas.” The surprise that echoed in Y/N’s voice and the small laugh that followed had drawn an pleasurable ache from Harry’s dormant chest in a way he couldn’t explain. “Thank you for asking, though.  So… I’ll see you at six, then.”

“Sounds good, love.  I’m looking forward to it.” Harry had smiled again, despite no one being around to view it, and continued to smile even after he had hung up and made his way back to the living room, where his two friends had greeted him with an array of exaggerated vulgar motions and kissy faces.

He had waved them off, and though he’d glowered at them hotly and shrugged off their prodding questions, he couldn’t find it in himself to stifle the grin that the human girl’s offer had left behind on his cheeks.  She wanted to make him dinner. Just the two of them. It’d been so long since anyone had gone so out of their way for him like that, he hadn’t been able to help his giddy reaction.

As he reaches the final stair leading to Y/N’s floor of her building, a tired sigh falls from Harry’s pink lips.  He should’ve known better than to call her with his friend present, he thinks, as his footsteps echo around the empty hallway.  The moment he’d plopped back down on his couch, Niall and Xander had ignored his dismissive attitude and proceeded to continue to bombard him with a million questions about her, and a million more digs at his ego when he had later excused himself from their tournament to get ready for the dinner.  Although he’d normally be able to ignore their obsessive inquiries without so much as a second thought, he’d berated himself throughout his entire shower and get-ready routine, the harsh judgement ever-present in the back of his skull as he’d picked up his favourite ingredients for margaritas from the grocery store.  He should’ve known better.

It’s bad enough that he’s toying around with Y/N’s feelings just for his own selfish needs, but every time the topic of Y/N came up around his friends, it ended with the exact same question, just as it had earlier that day.

“So when do we get to meet her?  Like, officially meet her, and not just hear her moaning through your wall.” Niall had asked as he took a sip of his Guinness beer, layering a childish snicker on top of his curiosity.

“Yeah, I’d love to see the girl that domesticated you.  Always thought she’d be fictional, actually.” Xander’s laugh had matched Niall’s as the two of them watched Harry slip a fresh t-shirt over his head. 

A tightness had developed in Harry’s chest then, so tense that it had nearly stopped him from smoothing the shirt over his inked chest. “You don’t get to meet her.” He had replied curtly, shooting the two vampires a stern look. “She’s not something for you two to gawk at, she’s—”

Niall had interjected then, the mirth in his eyes refusing to bow despite Harry’s seething. “Your girlfriend?” 

Harry had stared witheringly at the Irish immortal. “No.  She’s not my girlfriend.  She’s just a friend I have an arrangement with.  An arrangement that will become much more complicated if she starts hanging out with other vampires and notices that there’s something… off about us.”

“Off?” Niall had questioned, grinning cheekily with a flash of his fangs, his blue irises dying blood red. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, mate.”

Pausing in front of Y/N’s front door, Harry takes a moment to swipe his hair back from his face, tousling his curls until they fall into just the right place.  His chestnut locks are beginning to get a little long again (they curl around his ears and tickle the nape of his neck now), but he can’t quite bring himself to cut them just yet; Y/N has a habit of reaching for them whenever he goes down on her, and the sensation of her tugging on his hair is too satisfying to let go of so easily.  As for the rest of his look, Harry has opted to keep it casual tonight, wearing a blue and pink flamingo patterned button down over his Chicago Cubs t-shirt, paired with a rust-coloured pair of corduroy pants and his white vans.  If their usual routine is any indication, then Harry will be staying the night, and he’s learned over the years that it’s much comfier to leave the next morning in loose clothes than trying to yank on a pair of tight leather pants in a stranger’s bedroom.  Not that Y/N is a stranger; in fact, he could probably get away with bringing an overnight bag now.  But there’s something so presumptuous in showing up to a dinner date with a bag, and in a shocking— though fleeting— change of heart, the last thing Harry wants is to seem presumptuous. 

Harry raises his jeweled knuckles and raps on Y/N’s door in a rhythmic pattern, straightening his back and leaning against the frame as he waits for the door to open. 

Even through the wooden barrier, Harry can hear the old music floating through the bluetooth speaker that he knows sits on Y/N’s kitchen counter, the sizzling of peppers and onions in a pan, and Y/N singing to herself softly under her breath, the latter of which pauses as soon as Harry knocks.  Instead, it’s replaced with the soft padding of bare feet against the laminate floor, the click of a lock, the removal of a door chain, and the turning of a knob as the door swings open. 

And then Harry sees Y/N, and the sight of her catches the breath that he doesn’t really need. It lodges in his lungs and at the back of his burning throat, causing an odd sensation to churn the pit of his tummy as a sudden wave of heat pours into his cheeks. 

If Harry’s pride wasn’t as steadfast as he likes to portray, he would openly admit that it truly is frightening how just one glance at her can make his entire nervous system flare. 

It’s obvious that Y/N’s been at work all day; her mascara is slightly smudged beneath her eyes, and the ponytail bouncing at the top of her head is loose, with wisps of hair falling out and framing her face.  Her clothing, however, has been changed from her usual work polo and jeans to a cotton bralette that clings to her chest and displays a strip of her stomach that makes Harry’s mouth water.  Her black leggings have mesh cutouts on the side, and while that detail would normally draw Harry’s eyes by default, it’s the multicolour patchwork cardigan hanging loosely off her shoulders that really catches Harry off guard.  Or, more specifically, it’s his multicolour patchwork cardigan that catches him off guard. 

“Hi.” Y/N smiles up at him warmly with the edges of her eyes crinkling, her hands grasping the side of the door tightly. “Six P.M. on the dot, Holmes.  I’m impressed.”

“Solving mysteries isn’t my only speciality.” Harry matches his grin to hers, his dimples making an appearance as his expression grows. “Although speaking of mysteries… I think I just solved the case of my missing cardigan.” With his free hand, Harry reaches forward and tweaks a button on the article of clothing, his fingers brushing against Y/N’s bare tummy when he pulls away. 

A wispy giggle falls from Y/N’s cheeks as she opens the door wider to invite Harry in. “Right, that case.  I was about to call you about it, actually.  We got a big break-through last night.”

“Did we?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he steps into her apartment, shifting the fabric tote bag in his right hand to his left as he squeezes into the narrow corridor beside her. “And what was the big break, exactly?” 

Y/N wraps her arms around Harry’s neck as he snakes his now free hand around her waist, clutching her close to his cool body. “Well, I was trying to go to sleep, and I was cold, so I went searching in my closet for an extra blanket, and found this tucked in the back from when you let me borrow it last weekend.” She explains lightly, twisting her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Case closed.  Elementary, my dear Holmes.”

“I thought that was my line?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as fond amusement dances through his emerald eyes, his cold palm giving one of her love handles a playful squeeze. “First you steal my cardigan, and now my catch phrase.  What’s next?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Y/N says with a shrug, her smile growing wider with every passing moment as she nudges his chin teasingly with the tip of her warm nose. “I could steal a kiss, I suppose?  That’s a very you thing to do.”

“Not quite.  Usually you’re the one trying to steal one, and I make you ask for it. Beg, even, if I’m feeling a bit meaner than usual.” Tilting his head to the side and shaking it slowly, Harry lets out a long sigh. “You’re losing your touch, Watson.”

“Tragic.” Y/N matches his sigh as she begins to untangle her hands from his hair, but when she tries to extract herself from Harry’s grasp, he just holds on tighter. 

“But for the sake of tradition…” Harry’s eyes fall to the mortal’s lips as he wets his own with his tongue. “How about a hello kiss?”

Despite the usual iciness of Harry’s touch, heat begins to blossom through Y/N’s chest as she tilts her head up to meet Harry’s mouth.  The kiss, unlike many they’ve shared before, is tender, and only lasts for a brief moment before Y/N settles back down on the balls of her feet. 

“Hi.” She whispers, her hands curling around the fabric clinging to Harry’s muscular shoulders. 

“Hi.” The vampire replies easily as he finally releases his grip on her waist, taking a step back from both Y/N and the bashful instance they’d found themselves in.

He allows her to lead him down the entrance hallway and into her living room, drifting behind her towards the kitchen and glimpsing over all the ingredients she has scattered around her counters.

“You look beautiful in my cardigan, by the way.” Harry throws out casually, admiring the way the article hangs off her figure in the most adorable oversized fashion. “If I didn’t make that clear enough before.  And,” the monster takes a sudden deep whiff for emphasis, “it smells delicious in here. Seems like Gordon Ramsey doesn’t have shit on you, huh?”

Although the initial compliment brings a flush of pleasure up Y/N’s spine, she chooses to focus on the latter half of Harry’s comment. “I’d like to think so, yeah.  Dinner is almost ready, if you want to take a seat at the table.  Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Actually…” Harry holds up the bag in his hand and bounces it jestingly, fully bringing it to Y/N’s attention for the first time. “I thought I’d make us margaritas to go with the fajitas.  Really commit to the theme, y’know?”

All of the previous drinks that Harry has made for her float through Y/N’s mind, and her mouth salivates at the thought of drinking another of his incredible creations. He really does have such a wise talent with liquor that she finds herself subconsciously wondering how that had come to be. “Of course; we can’t do Fajita Fridays halfway, now can we?”

“No, we can’t.” Harry agrees with a firm nod, setting the bag down on her small kitchen tabletop and unpacking the ingredients he’d toted with him. “Do you prefer your margaritas over ice or blended?”

The correct answer immediately rolls off the mortal’s tongue. “Blended— I’m not insane.” She states with a scoff, picking up her spatula to stir the pepper and onion mixture on the stove as she bobs her head towards the cabinet at the far end of the room. “The blender is just up in that cupboard there.”

The corners of Harry’s pink lips tug up at her response, and he nods to the girl as he drifts over and reaches for the cabinet she’d motioned to. “Gotcha.” He says, pushing back a few decorative serving platters before extracting the blender sitting on the back of the shelf. “Oh, this’ll do nicely.”

His comment is met with a quiet snort from Y/N, who glances at him from the corner of her eye as she turns her attention to the sautéing chicken in her skillet. “Oh, it will, will it?” She asks sarcastically, her lithe fingers adding pinches of seasoning to the dish. “Are you a blender connoisseur, then?”

“Of course I am, angel.  Y’have to be, to make a half decent margarita.” Setting the kitchen appliance in the counter, Harry studies it with a keen eye, running his fingers over the smooth glass and slightly worn buttons. “It has a little bit of wear and tear, but that’s to be expected; the rest of it seems to be in decent condition.” He unwraps the cord from the base of the blender, plugging it into the wall before pressing the pulse button a few times to make the machine roar to life. “Listen to that engine purr… A blender like this could bring a man to tears.”

“That’s good to know.” Y/N snorts again, shaking her head at Harry’s antics as he begins to prepare his ingredients. “If you need a knife for the limes, there’s one in the block there.  And ice is in the freezer—”

“That’s good to know.” Harry mimics her prior reply with a shit-eating grin on his face, his hand wrapped around a bottle of Don Julio he’d snagged from his bar shelves. “I was about to check the cabinet again.”

With a shake of her head, Y/N steps past Harry to open a cupboard and fetch a serving dish. “Alright, smartass.” She bumps her hip against Harry’s as she passes him, the motion sending a jolt of electricity across the vampire’s pelvic bones. “Keep it up and you’ll lose dessert privileges.”

Although she tries to step away, Harry twists a cool arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her back against his chest as he smudges a kiss over her pulse point. “‘M sorry.” He murmurs, keeping his voice low in an attempt to hide the smile brewing on his face. “I’ll be nicer, then.  I’d hate to lose dessert—it’s my favourite part.”

With his lips over her neck, Harry can feel the exact moment Y/N’s heart rate increases, his ears pricking with the now familiar and adored sound.  Her warm hand cups his over her belly, fingers tracing over the knuckles of his icy touch. 

“I know it is.” Y/N tilts her head to the left, trying to provide Harry with more access to her neck as his mouth continues to ghost over her skin. “So I’d hate to take it away.”

The human girl’s familiar and achingly sweet honey and lavender scent fills Harry’s nostrils as his nose brushes against her jaw.  When he refers to her as dessert, Y/N doesn’t know how genuinely Harry means it. “Alright.  I’ll behave.” He relents, but he squeezes her tummy tightly as his teeth graze her skin one last time before pulling away. “For now.”

When Y/N detangles from the cage that is Harry’s arm, she busies herself with cooking again, doing her best to hide the light sheen of sweat that is beading her forehead.  It’s almost embarrassing, really; despite only being here for five minutes, Harry’s already pulling reactions out of her that she didn’t even know she had.  If she doesn’t get a hold of herself soon, she’ll be on her knees for him before he’s had a bite of dinner. 

With that thought in mind, the mortal forces herself to focus on the tasks at hand, continuing her banter with Harry while making sure to keep the subject matter PG as she plates the food and Harry blends drinks for them.  Her tiny table, which she’s already set for two, is soon filled with dishes containing sautéed vegetables, chicken, and other various toppings, and Harry pours his margarita mix into two glasses before sitting across from her with a curious air. 

“So this is what you and your friends used to do back home, is it?” He asks, crossing his arms and resting them on the table as he regards Y/N with a tilted head. “Fajita Fridays?  Taco Tuesdays?  Meatloaf Mondays?”

“Meatloaf Mondays sound depressing.” Y/N shoots back with a scoff, her hand wrapping around her margarita glass and lifting it to her mouth to take a sip. “We weren’t that pathetic.”

Harry exhales a sharp but quiet breath from his nose once—the beginnings of a laugh— before offering a dry reply. “No, it doesn’t have a very nice ring to it, does it?” He says, watching eagerly as her eyes widen at the first taste of the drink rolls across her tongue. “Do you like it?”

Y/N clears her throat as she lowers her glass from her mouth. “It’s...strong.” Y/N replies slowly, taking another gulp and smacking her lips in an exaggerated fashion. “But yummy.  This is a repeat recipe, I think.” 

The praise warms the pit of Harry’s stomach as he raises his own glass, motioning to the girl before him before bringing the edge of the cup to his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He murmurs, setting his drink back down after taking a sip and letting his eyes roam over the food before them. “So how did you and your friends do this?  Everyone would just reach in at once, or—?”

“Oh, well, we—we used to say grace first, actually.” Y/N admits after a moment, her eyes momentarily flickering to the gold cross dangling from Harry’s neck.  Although his usual cross earring is absent tonight, his pearls out of sight as well, and he’s only wearing his opal and lionhead rings, that familiar cross necklace is present as ever. “And then we’d move everything around the table clockwise from the person who actually led saying grace.” 

Despite Y/N previously mentioning that she’d been a regular church goer in her hometown, this new information sparks an interest in Harry’s mind. “Really?” He quirks an eyebrow as the human girl reaches for a warmed tortilla and begins to spoon her toppings inside. “But you don’t do that now?”

“Nope.” Her lips pop on the final consonant sound of the word. “Did you say grace growing up?” She asks curiously, nodding to the chain around Harry’s neck. “You always wear that cross, so I was just wondering…”

“Oh, uh—yeah. Yeah, we did.” A crease furrows the space between Harry’s brow as he selects his own tortilla, keeping his eyes glued to the food. “My father used to lead it every night.” Although he could leave the comment there and be done with the topic, more words of explanation spill from Harry’s mouth without him realizing how much he’s actually saying, his gaze remaining trained on the way he’s filling his tortilla, almost as if it’s a monumentally difficult task that requires his utmost attention. “I liked to listen to him say it.  My father had a very calming voice; he could be loud and boisterous when he wanted to, but at home, he always kept cool and collected.  It was comforting.”

Y/N notes the use of past tense when discussing Harry’s father, but doesn’t comment on it.  With the knowledge that his mother had passed away in her mind, she assumes the same has happened to his father, and the realization twists her heart in a new and aching manner. “You speak like that, you know.” She tries to steer the conversation into a lighter direction, registering the sadness in his emerald eyes when he discusses his family. “When you’re telling stories about your life.  Your voice is low and even, quieter than usual.  It sounds a bit like a…lullaby, I guess.  Or like— like an audiobook, like someone’s reading some old poetry, or—” Her cheeks flame beneath her skin as she drops her eyes to her plate. “Sorry.  That, um, that sounds strange.”

The outpouring confessions from the girl across from him brings an awed expression to Harry’s face.  He had always assumed his voice was more of a siren song than anything— capable of luring his victims into a false sense of security before he showed his true monstrous form.  But if the stuttering of Y/N’s heart and the brightness in her eyes is any indication, maybe that isn’t quite the case.  She described him as a lullaby, yes, but she didn’t sound betrayed at the thought of him spinning stories in order to keep her pliable under his grasp.  If anything, her words give the impression that she enjoys it.

“I’ve heard stranger.” Harry murmurs after a moment, his unusually bare forefinger rubbing over his lips pensively as he waits for Y/N to raise her head again. “Thank you.  That’s a compliment, really, saying that I sound like my dad used to.”

“Well, I mean, I’ve never heard your dad speak, so take it with a grain of salt—” Y/N forces out a laugh, despite her cheeks and neck still feeling uncomfortably flushed, “—but I imagine it’s similar.  After all, he raised you, didn’t he?”

Harry nods slowly, his mind so wrapped in his own memories that he doesn’t even think about the incriminating answer about to fall from his lips. “He did, yeah, but it’s been a while since I’ve been able to speak to him.” He admits, pinching his chin between his thumb and index finger as he lifts his left shoulder in an empty shrug. “Memories fade over time.  Things change.  People change.”

Although she can feel that they’re beginning to breach a more serious topic, Y/N doesn’t pull back like she did in the restaurant.  She rationalizes this action to herself as she sips her margarita and collects her thoughts, saying that it’s just because it’s easier to be honest in her apartment than a brunch restaurant. But the truth of the matter is that the longer she spends with Harry, the more Y/N wants to know him. Really know him, outside of their usual arrangement. 

“That’s true,” She agrees with hesitancy etched into her voice, keeping a measured glance on Harry’s body to read his reaction. “But you can’t have changed that much since you last saw him.  When…” Her words trail off when Harry locks his emerald eyes with hers, but she takes a deep breath and finishes her question in determination. “When did he pass away?  How old were you?”

In the immortal’s mind, the answer forms without any delay.  His father had been the first to go in his family; the combination of breathing in smoke from the forge and his age being four years his mother’s senior had stopped his heart before hers.  The news of his death reached Harry a few days after it had happened, and he had just made it back to Holmes Chapel in time to watch the funeral service from afar.  

Despite his appearance being frozen at twenty-six, as it always would be, Harry was nearly twenty-nine to the day of the funeral.  Gemma had been thirty-three by then, standing with their mother and a tall man by her side, who whispered what her brother hoped were reassuring words in her ear.  His sister's eyes had been nearly a perfect mirror of Harry’s, with the exception of a few crow’s feet beginning to show around them.  And his mother had been dressed in widower’s black, a veil pulled over her weeping face to allow her the bit of discretion that was expected in Victorian times.  Harry had been distressed when he saw the veil, despite expecting it to be there; he’d hoped he could get one more glimpse of her eyes before he had to leave that day.  He had entertained the idea of walking over, expressing his condolences, and compelling her to forget she’d seen her lost son, but the thought had twisted an ache into his chest that had nearly brought him to tears, and—

“I was twenty-one when he passed away.” Harry spits the sentence out, and the familiar lie burns his throat in an entirely foreign way than the thirst he’s used to. “He had lung cancer.” At least, that had been Harry’s assumption after he read up on the disease years after his father’s undetermined passing.  It made sense, given that all the grit and soot from the coal and metal grime had found its way into the air of the blacksmith’s shop, and after slaving away for years in order to keep food on the table, it had also eventually made its way into his father’s system… “It progressed quickly.” 

As he watches sympathy glaze itself over Y/N’s eyes, all he can think about is how undeserving he is of it.  Even though he’s compelled the mortal girl in front of him, gained her trust, been invited into her home, and is kindling a connection with her, all for the simple act of drinking her blood, Harry thinks that this might be the most monstrous thing he’s done yet— paint himself as a victim of circumstance, hiding all the wrong-doings he’s ever committed, and allowing Y/N and her softly-beating heart to feel sorry for him. 

The conversation moves to an lighter tone after that, which Harry does on purpose; the less he needs to tell her about his fabricated sob story, the better.  And, truth be told, he’d much rather hear about Y/N’s day-to-day life.  It’s been so long since he had human concerns, and when he did, his concerns certainly didn’t have anything to do with being betrayed by customers because the cafe wifi was down.  It’s almost amusing to him, listening to her rant about all these insignificant people, and he can’t help the way his dimples begin to peek out of his cheeks as she raises her voice at imaginary customers. 

“So I told him, in my most polite voice, that we were aware the wifi was down, and that we’d called the provider to let them know, and that they were sending someone as fast as they could to fix it. And do you know what he said to me?” Y/N widens her eyes in incredulous disbelief as she takes a bite of her fajita, chewing and swallowing quickly to continue with her story with more emphasis. “Do you know what he said?”

“No, I don’t.” Harry shakes his head in endearment, hiding the laugh forming on his rosy lips behind his margarita glass. “What did he say?”

“He said—” Y/N twists her face to mimic the customer’s expression, dropping her voice down five octaves lower as she speaks with a ridiculous tone. “‘Oh, well, can’t you just fix it?  You work here, don’t you?  What else do you get paid for?’ Can you believe that?” She states the last phrase in her normal voice, scoffing at the memory as she crosses her patchwork covered arms across her chest. “Like, I’m a waitress!  I don’t work at an internet company!  I’m trained to bring you water and sandwiches— which are more cucumber than anything with actual substance—  so it’s not my responsibility to figure out why you can’t load Candy Crush on your phone!”

A snicker finally breaks free from Harry’s throat as he watches Y/N angrily stuff a piece of chicken into her mouth. “Sounds like you had a rough day today.”

“That’s pretty average for me, honestly.” Y/N sighs again, rubbing her hand over her forehead as she polishes off the rest of her second margarita. “Ugh, it pissed me off.  I wanted to shove his phone right up his ass and ask if his wifi connection got better.” A small smile breaks out across Y/N’s lips in spite of herself as Harry stifles another giggle at her witty comment. “But I’ve talked about it enough.  How was your day?  What did you do?”

“I did a bit of work in the morning, nothing too noteworthy.” Harry replies, deliberately keeping his answer vague as he twists his lionhead ring around his finger. “And I was about to watch a golf tournament with Xander and Niall when you called.”

Harry thinks nothing of mentioning their names, but is surprised when Y/N’s brow cinch in thought. “Which ones are Xander and Niall?  Is one of them the long haired one?” She asks curiously, pulling her (his) cardigan off one shoulder as the tequila begins to course through her veins and heat her body. 

“The— no.  No, that’s Mitch.” Harry says slowly, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “How did you know that?”

Y/N feels a spike of embarrassment in her stomach, and shyly avoids Harry’s eyes as she answers. “There was a photo of you with a group of guys in your apartment, in the living room.” She mumbles, tapping her fingers against her newly cleaned plate. “One of them— I think he was next to you in the photo?— had long hair.  Another had blue eyes, glasses… and brown hair, I think?  I don’t really remember the rest…”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, quiet and low. “That was probably Niall.” He guesses, finishing his own margarita and setting the glass down gently. “If I’m thinking of the right picture, then Xander was the one standing next to him.”

Y/N pictures the faces in her mind’s eye, imagining the two brunette boys in the clothing from the photo, slumped next to Harry on the couch of his stunning condo, knocking back pints of beer and plates of nachos as they watch golf on TV.  It seems strange to picture Harry doing something so… normal.  She forgets, sometimes, that he’s a regular twenty-six year old man.  In her head, when she thinks of Harry, regular is the last word that comes to her mind— even when he’s sitting across from her in a casual outfit, doing something as simple as eating dinner while he asks her about her day, Y/N struggles to remember that this man is just that: a man.  

Maybe, she ponders, as Harry stands up with the explanation of making more margaritas falling off his lips, it’s because she’s only ever really been alone with him.  With the exception of the club where they met, and his friends interrupting their weekend a few weeks prior (her cheeks flame at the recalling of the embarrassing memory), Y/N has only ever seen Harry in her own context.  

As the blender whirs to life behind her, the human twists in her chair to catch a glimpse of the object of her thoughts.  Even beneath his opaque shirt, she can see the muscles of Harry’s back flexing as he bends down to slice a lime, squeezing the juice into the top of the blender while holding his jeweled hand underneath to catch any seeds.  When Harry is around her, he’s charming, cocky, self-assured, and— on the extremely rare occasion— vulnerable.  What’s he like around his friends?  

Just as cocky, Y/N is sure; she can’t picture Harry letting go of his signature smirk so easily.  But does anything else about him shift when exposed to different company?  Is there different vocabulary that slips from his mouth?  What about his tone of voice?  Does that change, too, like Y/N’s used to when she was around Bradley, or when she’s with customers?  He mentioned earlier that he’d been watching golf, and that was the last sport she'd ever think he’d have an affinity for, let alone one he’d enjoy enough to make a day out of watching tournaments.  What other personality traits and pastimes is he keeping from her?  If she were to be a fly on the wall while he was with his friends, would she see someone completely unrecognizable in his Gucci boots and translucent shirts?

The sudden lack of noise from the blender snaps Y/N from her thoughts, and Harry detaches the pitcher and carries it to the table, filling her empty glass with a smile. 

“There you are, miss.” He winks at her quickly before filling his own cup and standing back from the table with a grin, his free hand folded behind his back as he straightens his posture. “Now,” He begins, his accent slipping into a more posh tongue as he bows his head lightly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Despite her worries, a soft laugh rolls from Y/N at his impersonation of a server. “Yeah, actually.” She drops her voice lower again, plastering an angry expression onto her face as she reaches into her cardigan pocket and retrieves her phone. “Your wifi is down.  What kind of restaurant doesn’t have wifi?  Can’t you fix this?”

A loud snort echoes from Harry’s mouth as he sets the blender back down on the counter before sliding back into his seat across from her. “Sorry, love,” He laughs, his regular accent back in its place. “That’s a bit above my paygrade.  I can, however, offer you some compensation.”

Wrapping her fingers around the icy margarita glass, Y/N leans forward, resting her chin on her free hand as she appraises Harry with a kinked brow. “Is that so?” She replies in her regular voice as well, her interest piqued. “What kind of compensation?”

“It’s part of our Friday Night Special,” Harry slides his hand across the table and pushes the baggy rainbow sleeve of Y/N’s cardigan down her arm in order to brush his cool fingers up and down her bare skin. “And it features bottomless margaritas paired with cunnilingus from our most handsome waiter.”

A fluttering warmth begins to knot itself around Y/N’s core, but she does her best to keep her composure as she straightens her spine and glances around the apartment. “Sounds intriguing.  So where’s the handsome waiter?”

Harry’s pillowy lips plunk down into an exaggerated frown as he presses a hand to his chest, his other hand continuing to stroke over Y/N’s forearm. “Ouch, Watson.  That hurt.  Might need you to kiss it better.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N challenges, lifting her drink to her lips and sipping it slowly. “Where exactly does it hurt?”

Instead of answering her query, Harry simply stands from his chair and rounds the table to stop in front of Y/N, extending his hand to her.  She lays her fingers inside his cool grasp, allowing him to pull her from her seat.  He’s closer than she realized, she thinks, as her chest brushes with his and the intoxicating scent of his cologne fills her senses, only getting stronger as Harry nudges her nose with his own, his lips just barely gliding over her own. The copper specks around his pupils glitz under the muted lighting, electric from the alcohol, from the sensation of her close proximity, and from the ever-present intention of getting between her legs.

When Harry finally speaks, his thick cadence washes over her just as much as his tequila-scented breath, his free-hand tugging suggestively at the waistband of her leggings. “If we go to your bedroom, then I can show you.”

“Mm, is that so?” The girl gives in to his gesture, stepping forward as the vampire begins treading backwards towards their new— though entirely familiar— destination. “You’re gonna show me, then?”

“I most certainly am.” The boy keeps their bodies close, making sure that his lips continue to just barely graze hers as he moves, teasing her nerves into a frenzy. “I plan on showing you over, and over, and over…”

Y/N can’t bring herself to resist the offer.  She’s only human, after all.

///

The next morning, Harry wakes up tangled in Y/N’s sheets to two surprises: the sheets on Y/N’s side of the bed are cold and bare, and that Harry is actually waking up.  

Although he remembers falling back onto the scattered sheets the night before (after coaxing three orgasms out of Y/N and her coaxing two from him in return), he doesn’t remember drifting off into the sleep he so rarely needs, and because of that, Harry feels disoriented and groggy in a way he hasn’t in a long time.  He does his best to blink the haze from his usually sharp eyes, knuckling at them with his cool fingers as he attempts to get his bearings.

His sleep-fogged mind struggles to recall what had happened after Y/N had fallen asleep.  She’d drifted off easily and quickly, her sweat-soaked body tucked into Harry’s with her head resting in the crook of his neck.  That noted detail sticks out in his memory because it had made Harry pause before biting her.  She’d been so comfortable next to him, and in such an inconvenient position that Harry didn’t want to shift her to drink. After debating with himself for a few moments, he’d eventually decided on an alternative and had lifted her fragile wrist to his lips.

Even half awake, Harry’s lips quirk up at the hazy memory.  He recalls the feeling of her hummingbird pulse thrumming beneath her delicate skin, practically vibrating against his lips as he stamped a kiss over her vein before biting down.  Her blood had a weaker flow there, but that was alright; he’d just sucked a little harder to coax the liquid from her body, feeling his mouth overflow with her welcomed taste as well as with the supernatural chemicals that inject into her system and dull any pain his feeding might cause. He’d been careful to gauge his consumption by the strength of her heartbeat, and when he’d finished, he’d sealed the wound with a bit of his own blood, as usual. He’d made sure Y/N was healed and settled back in his arms before relaxing into the pillows to listen to her breathing, the soft pillows and her radiating body heat feeling more soothing than usual. Somewhere between counting the movement of her lungs and the sun rising, Harry had fallen unconscious.

It’s strange, being up after Y/N.  Harry has grown used to rising before her and making breakfast, or even just coffee, and there’s something disorienting about being in her bed alone, without her inherent warmth and soft skin, and only the ghost of her sugary scent left behind.  He briefly wonders if this is how she feels when she wakes up to cold sheets and no one beside her (although Harry suspects the lack of his frozen body would make the bed a more comfortable temperature), and thinks that maybe he should begin to lay in bed with her a little longer; if he’s going to fake a relationship with her, it should be a relationship where her partner wants to be around her, and isn’t awake before the sun.

And that’s another thing.  The golden orange light of the rising L.A. sun is just beginning to stream through the closed curtains, so what time is it?  It can’t be any later than seven— on a Saturday, no less— and at such an early hour, Harry would expect Y/N to still be dreamily dozing in bed.  What had drawn her away from her comfortable position in Harry’s arms?

As the sun continues to rise, the light begins to streak onto Y/N’s empty side of the bed and, instinctually, Harry begins to reach for the beam, craving the warmth she took with her when she abandoned the sheets.  Instead of the expected touch of heat, however, Harry is jarred by a burning sensation ripping across his icy flesh.

The vampire yanks his hand back in a flash, his face screwing in silent pain as he bites back a yell of anguish, but the damage has already been done.  The tips of his fingers are puckered with red blisters, which throb as he flexes his hand in the safety of the shadows. Harry digs his sharp teeth into his lip harder, forcing himself to inhale slowly through his nose and exhale shakily through his mouth.

It takes a few moments for him to collect himself, breathing deeply with his eyes closed as he does so, and as he counts his own breaths like he’d counted Y/N’s the night before, what should’ve been an obvious thought enters his mind: why had he burned?  He’s wearing his lionhead ring, which has eyes made of those precious crystals that protect his inhuman skin from sunlight, and as long as he’s wearing it, the sun shouldn’t be able to…

Harry’s sight snaps completely open as he jerks forward in bed, his head throbbing from the sudden movement.  When he’d first awoken, he’d attributed his grogginess and dry eyes to sleeping for the first time in weeks, but as Harry’s jade gaze settles upon his uninjured hand, he realizes the truth.  That disorienting feeling isn’t from sleep, but from the sunlight that had begun to seep through the curtains and affect his body, bouncing off the glossy walls of Y/N’s room and reflecting off her picture frames and furniture.  What would normally not be an issue suddenly becomes the bane of his existence, and what usually isn’t able to affect his body immediately does, obvious in the agonizing sweltering writhing through every single one of his dormant arteries. And all because his lionhead ring is missing from its rightful place.

Granted, Harry hadn’t worn most of his rings to Y/N’s apartment the night before, seeing as how they planned to spend the night in, but he’d kept his mother’s opal and the lionhead securely on his middle finger and pinky, just as he always did.  The former brings him memories of his mother, and helps him keep a piece of her— and who he once was— with him in this strange modern time.  The latter had been a rebirth gift from a family he’d rather forget, and if it didn’t keep him from flambéing himself every time he stepped into the sun, he wouldn’t wear it at all. In all honesty, he probably would’ve chucked into Hell, if he could. 

But the reality of his afterlife is that Harry needs that ring.  So why is it missing from his hand?

Cradling his blistered digits to his bare chest, the wounded vampire tosses back the covers, careful to avoid the streaks of sunshine beginning to light up the small room.  His icy chest soothes the burn in his fingers, which are taking longer to heal than Harry would’ve thought, but if the grating itch of his dry eyes is any indication, the effects of the sun aren’t just limited to direct physical harm, but are also stopping his body from healing itself as quickly as usual.

Harry presses his good hand to his dizzy head and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet onto the ground as firmly as he can to center himself, refusing to cripple under the extraneous circumstances. He fishes his grey boxers from their signature spot on Y/N’s floor, slipping them on slowly as even the smallest of movements seems to strain his muscles beyond reason. As the elastic band snaps around his hips, another frightening possibility seizes his body: his mother’s ring could also be gone. He yanks his hand away from his head, and it takes his eyes a moment to focus on the opal ring.  At least he can breathe a sigh of relief about one thing— if his mother’s ring had disappeared, Harry’s not quite sure what he would’ve done.  

And that thought brings his spinning mind back to the present.  His lionhead ring is gone, and he can’t so much as step into sunlight without undergoing intense, insurmountable pain, so how is he going to find it?

Another groan falls from Harry’s mouth as he rests his forehead in his palm, propping his elbow against his knee so he can shield his eyes from the sunlight by hiding in between his legs.  Daylight talismans are extremely rare; he can’t exactly waltz into the nearest Wal-Mart and pick one up.  The crystals that give vampires such cherished immunity all date back to the medieval era, when vampires were considered mythical legends instead of just plain myths, and what few of the crystals are left are hidden deep within old ruins in the remote wilderness of Europe.  If Harry hadn’t been given his shortly after he was turned, he’s not sure he would have been lucky enough to own one.  He remembers Niall telling him how he had to search every night for months before he found a crystal hidden inside a ruin in Wales, and Xander had once recounted the story of stealing his from the vampire that turned him.  Even Mitch had struggled with the crystals before; although his ring had originally been a gift from the vampire that transformed him, he had to crack the crystal in half and set it into a new ring for Sarah when she had met her untimely demise. 

Vampires have been known to beg, lie, cheat, and steal in order to get their hands on a daylight crystal, so if someone managed to sneak in and take Harry’s lionhead ring while he and Y/N were sleeping, then Harry is going to have a fucking hell of a time trying to get it back. 

As the thought enters Harry’s dazed mind, a chill runs down his back, crawling across his spine and down his tailbone in an unsettling shiver as he slowly turns back to Y/N’s empty side of the bed.  If someone— if another creature just like him, who would be the only other person capable of recognizing such a treasure— got into the apartment and took his ring, and found an unconscious mortal girl with the sweetest honey and lavender liquid pulsing through her veins, then…

The sheets and curtains of the room blow in a breeze as Harry jets off the bed, forgetting to control his inhuman speed as he throws the sliding door open and stumbles into the hallway.  More sunlight streams through the windows of the living room, and it’s taking all of Harry’s dulled concentration to avoid the beams as he staggers towards the kitchen.

It’s not until the immortal smells Y/N’s familiar fragrance and hears the beating of her heart, in tune with her quiet humming, that the fear Harry hadn’t realized had tightened his chest flows out of him in one fell swoop.  He does his best to force even breaths in and out of his lungs, watching as Y/N raises her coffee mug to her lips and blows on the hot liquid before taking a small sip.

She’s dressed in his multicoloured patchwork cardigan again, buttoned up to provide her with warmth and modesty, but it slips down her bare shoulder in a way that allows Harry to see she’s wearing nothing underneath it.  Although the cardigan pools around her silky thighs— which are marked with bruises from the night before— Harry can see the tiniest peak of her panties beneath the fabric, and if he were in a better frame of mind, he might’ve noticed how they’re not the pair she wore last night (that pair had been ripped right down the middle in his frantic attempt to get them off).  However, Harry’s eyes quickly settle on Y/N’s hands, which, after she sets down her coffee cup, pick up Harry’s lionhead ring and begin turning it around in her fingers.

When he sees the ring in her delicate grasp, a wave of sheer rage begins to rumble through Harry’s chest, and it takes every fiber of his undead being to keep it at bay as he approaches the mortal girl. “Y/N,” Harry rasps lowly, voice heavy with the exhaustion that his newfound vulnerability has stacked onto his shoulders. He stands in the one spot of shadow near the kitchen counter, trying hard not to glower. “What are you doing?”

When Y/N turns her head to look at him, her sleepy face smiles softly, eyes nearly as bright as the infuriating sun. Maybe that’s why, Harry thinks, it feels like it burns.

“Morning,” She says quietly, her own voice just as sleepy as Harry’s as she picks up a grey cloth from the table and begins to run it over the ring with precision and care. “How did you sleep?”

It’s a simple, innocent question, and Harry knows that, but his mind can’t think in simple and innocent terms right now.  As the light filling the room begins to pound his head even more, Harry’s thoughts revert back to his most instinctual behavior— rough carnal impulse. “What are you doing?” He asks again, his voice lower than before.  He sounds dangerous, and he means to.  How could she possibly think that taking something from him without his permission is fine?

“I’m polishing your ring.” Y/N keeps that good-natured smile on her face as she replies, but Harry can see the smallest waver in it as she begins to sense his distorted energy from across the room. “It was tarnished, and I have a polishing cloth, so I thought I’d—”

“Give it back.” Harry doesn’t mean to snarl the phrase, but he can’t stop himself from doing it as he thrusts out his hand expectantly; it’s taking all his concentration to keep himself from baring his teeth and letting his eyes bleed red. 

Y/N doesn’t fight him on it, and drops the ring carefully into his awaiting hand without letting her warm skin meet his.  She watches with confused eyes as Harry slips the newly shined lionhead ring onto his finger, a breath of relief sighing from his red lips the moment the metal meets his skin. He finishes twisting it into its designated spot, and he feels like he can actually breathe again.

The human girl waits a moment for an explanation from Harry, some spoken word or action to justify the hostility rolling off of him as he clutches the jeweled hand to his chest.  As the moments pass, however, Harry offers no explanation, or anything at all as he takes deep and measured inhales through his nose, as if he’s trying to relax. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N offers the words quietly, turning in her chair to properly face him with sincere eyes. “I just noticed that it was more tarnished than your other jewelry, and I thought I could—”

“You can’t take my rings from me.” Harry answers in a harsh voice, his face reflecting about as much warmth as stone on a winter’s day. “I thought I’d lost it.  You can’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N repeats the phrase again, gentler this time as she wraps her hands around her steaming mug.  She had guessed that the opal ring was his mother’s, but like Harry’s ruby ring and initial rings, she’d deduced this lionhead decal was more for decoration than anything.  If it was something important, one would figure that he’d take better care of it.  But it seems she’s not as adept at reading Harry as she’d like to think, because his explosive reaction had been totally unexpected.  For the first time since she met him, Y/N feels uneasy in his presence.  Had she really offended him that much?

The truth of the situation, unbeknownst to her, is that Harry’s reaction is no more purposefully malicious than Y/N’s intentions. Although the ring is back on his finger, and the crystals are beginning to protect him again, Harry’s thoughts are still muddied as he glances around the apartment, carefully surveying the circumstance like the top predator he pretends not to be.  There’s still a throbbing in his skull, and his eyes remain painfully dry, despite the fact that his healing has kicked in and mended his blistered fingertips.  In this moment, Harry feels weaker than he has in centuries; if someone were to attack right now, he wouldn’t be able to react quickly enough to protect himself. How could his aching head afford him any clear plan of attack?  How could his burning eyes show him every approaching danger?  How did he let himself become so relaxed— so stupidly lax— that he didn’t notice a mere human slipping off his most precious and needed object as he slept soundly in her bed?

“I really am sorry, Harry.” Rising from her chair with her quiet speech, Y/N steps towards him, hand outstretched to touch his inked forearm. “I didn’t know—”

Her hot fingertips against Harry’s frozen skin jar the vampire, triggering his fight or flight instincts as he tenses beneath her touch. “No—” He wrenches his arm away hurriedly, the searing graze reminding him of the sunlight that had harmed him just seconds ago, his wild eyes meeting Y/N’s in a feral frenzy. 

Although her chest barely moves, Harry can hear the stuttering breath that the girl sucks in through her teeth, her eyes widening at the severity of his actions. “I’m sorry.” She whispers the phrase again, her fingers jerking back from Harry’s arm in shock. “I…”

The more time passes, the more Harry regains control of himself, and as Harry melds his shattered composure back together, he can see the fear beginning to stain its way onto Y/N’s face.  The uneven beating of her heart pricks his ears, as does the scuff of the floor beneath her bare feet as she takes a step back from him.  When that uncertain fear reaches her irises, Harry is suddenly flashed back to their first date, when he’d been worried that she might be scared of being alone with him, and how delighted he’d been when he realized that wasn’t the case.  And now, as a sick feeling begins to settle in his stomach, he knows he’s blown it. 

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Harry urges himself to relax. 

“No, I’m sorry.” He softens his voice as much as he can muster in order to apologize, rubbing his charred eyes with one hand, hoping they’re still the canopy green Y/N is familiar with. “M’just half asleep still, and I was worried that— I’m sorry.” Harry extends his ringed hand in invitation, desperately craving the warmth of Y/N’s touch now that he’s leveled out, but not wanting to take it unwillingly. He wants her to feel safe enough to give it to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

There’s a moment of hesitation that flickers in her eyes, but it quickly passes as the mortal lays her hand within his. “You didn’t scare me.” She reassures him, but Harry can hear the falseness of her response immediately, and that guarded demeanor only intensifies the nausea rattling inside him.

Is she lying to save his feelings, he wonders, or to make herself look tougher?  No matter which may be the truth, Harry hates that she has to feel the need to lie.  He’d been upset, yes, but he should know better.  And he should know that she doesn’t know better.  She thought she’d been doing something nice for him; she has no idea about the torturous results his ring protects him from.  And she doesn’t know because Harry refuses to tell her— because he refuses to subject her to that perverted knowledge.  This is his own doing. 

“I did. I did frighten you, and I was rude, and I’m truly sorry.” Harry sighs heavily, dragging his fingers through his sleep-tousled curls. “My ring is just— it’s very important to me, and I don’t really like to take it off, so maybe just—just ask next time, yeah?” He murmurs the words in a soothing tone, his thumb sweeping over her knuckles in a poor attempt to make up for the way he’d berated her. “I know you didn’t have any bad intentions, and I’m not angry with you for taking it, but it just scared me when I woke up and it was gone.” 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N repeats yet again, and although Harry can feel her melting into his touch, there’s still a hint of uncertainty lingering beneath her words. 

Harry forces a grin on his chapped lips, which he wets with his tongue before speaking again. “S’alright, dove.  No harm, no foul.  And no more apologies, yeah?” He brushes a finger over her cheek, trying his best to put on a lighthearted front for the girl. “It was rather tarnished, actually— needed a good cleaning.” 

A shy smile finally creeps its way onto Y/N’s face, and Harry has to stop himself from breathing an audible sigh of content at both the gesture and the lack of prying about why that ring was dirtier than the rest (the answer to said question is just as simple as it is complicated: it reminds Harry of someone he’d rather forget, and if he didn’t need it, he’d drown it in the deepest ocean he could find— keeping it clean is the least of his concerns).

“How about breakfast, hm?  It’s early, but we could make some pancakes, or—” Harry glances at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall, reading the time with surprise before his gaze travels back to Y/N with a confused look. “It’s not even seven yet.  What time did you get up?”

“Around 6:15?  6:30?” She lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug, and Harry’s cardigan slips down her arm with the motion. “I don’t really remember.”

With his other hand still squeezing her own, Harry rugs the sleeve of the cardigan back up her shoulder, smoothing it over her morning-cooled skin. “It’s a Saturday, darling.  What were you doing up so early?”

Despite her heartbeat having not quite returned to its usual tempo, Y/N nuzzles into Harry’s touch as he pulls her closer to him. “Couldn’t really sleep, I guess.” Tucking her face into his neck for a moment, Y/N indulges a penetrating inhale, enjoying the remnants of his mahogany and vanilla cologne before stepping back and past Harry to the cabinet.  

Standing on her tiptoes, Y/N opens the door and retrieves a pink flowered mug before sliding down the counter to her coffee maker. “Want some coffee?” She asks, touching the glass of the carafe lightly to make sure it’s still warm. “There’s butter in the fridge, I think, if you want to make your disgusting drink.”

Ignoring the dig at his beverage of choice— which Harry has explained to her, multiple times, has many health benefits (not that he needs them) and just tastes better than coffee with cream— the vampire leans his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest as his brow furrows over his darkening eyes. 

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He questions, his attention glued to Y/N’s actions as she seems to deliberately avoid his gaze.  He analyzes the dark circles under her eyes, apparent even from just her side profile, and a spark of concern ignites his chest.  Could this be his fault?  Is drinking her blood beginning to take a physical toll on her body?  His blood has been healing her bite marks, but what about her iron levels?  Is her circulation being affected?  Mitch has told him multiple times that drinking from humans is okay once or twice a week, as long as there’s a grace period in between feeding, but Mitch has also never had the same human for as long as Harry has had Y/N.  Have the weeks they’ve spent together begun to unravel her?

When Y/N simply shrugs in response to his question, and offers no other words of explanation, a tired sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he steps towards her, taking the now-filled coffee mug from her hands and setting it down on the counter.  He wraps his arms around Y/N’s shoulders, hugging the girl into his chest for a moment to get a gauge on her body’s response.  Her heartbeat stutters, yes, but that’s a usual response to being wrapped inside Harry’s embrace, and it returns to normal after a few beats.  Her body feels just as warm as it usually does, and her chest is rising and falling just as it should be.  Nudging his face into her hair, he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with her fragrance.  No, nothing smells out of place, and her blood had tasted as delicious and as strong as ever last night.  If she’s having trouble sleeping, the cause isn’t anything tangible. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Harry mumbles the words into her hair before lifting his head up, extracting the girl from his arms just enough so that he can see her face. “If something is bothering you and keeping you up, then you can wake me up, too.”

Y/N worries her pillowy bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes become entranced by Harry’s rosemary gaze. “I know I could, but I didn’t want to.  You—” She swallows hard in an attempt to clear the thickness from her throat as her cheeks begin to burn. “You were sleeping, and I never see you sleep.” Y/N’s voice retreats into a sheepish tone at the admittance, her eyes falling from Harry’s stare to the floor between them. “You always fall asleep after me, and you’re always awake before me.  You need rest, too, H.”

While Harry would normally laugh at that simple phrase— at the fact that Y/N doesn’t know how wrong she is— Harry’s dimples remain dormant as he focuses on the concern in her voice. “I—” His voice catches in his throat, and he has to clear it before he can say anything else. “I sleep just fine.  Better, in fact, when I’m with you.” He confesses, his thumbs brushing over the exposed skin of Y/N’s neck. 

And after Y/N has extracted herself from his grip to take a sip of her coffee, after she teasingly groans while watching Harry drop a pat of butter into his own steaming mug, after he begins to crack eggs into a pan as Y/N starts to lay bacon on a baking sheet, after all that, Harry finally realizes what lodged in his throat. It dawns on him just as Y/N slips a pink apron over his bare, faintly hickey-bruised chest to protect him from splatters of grease, giggling to herself as he poses with his hand on his hip and makes a vulgar joke about how this looks like the setup to a cheesy porno. 

The vampire comes to the realization that Y/N takes notice of him. 

She notices when he doesn’t sleep.  She notices his exposed skin that could potentially be burned while cooking.  She notices the expressions on his face, reads the tone of his voice, knows when to press a matter and when to leave it be.  And she’s concerned.  She’s concerned about not seeing him sleep.  She’s concerned about him accidentally getting hurt.  She’s concerned about the swings in his moods, the shortness of his answers.  And while Harry knows her real concerns should be about allowing herself to be in such close proximity to someone— something— like him, he can’t help but feel a warmth in his chest at the thought of her worrying about him. 

As much as Harry likes to pretend otherwise, he knows he’s not easy to be around sometimes.  He can be vain, self-centered, self-serving, and inconsiderate.  He can be selfish, dishonest, and manipulative.  His mood can teeter at the drop of a hat, and he changes his mind like the weather on the best of days.  And on his worst of days, sometimes Harry wonders if anyone could care for him, or even stand to be around him, if it wasn’t a necessity. 

Although he’d never admit it, when Harry reflects on his friendships, he can feel a degree of insecurity in the threads that tie him to his crew.  He’s fairly certain that if he and Mitch met under different circumstances— circumstances when both of them were human— they would likely still be friends.  Maybe not as close as they are today, but friends, at the very least.  When it comes to Niall, Xander, and Adam, however… he’s not so sure.  Yes, he cares for them more than he’ll ever care for anyone again, and his loyalty to them is unwavering, but on his worst days, Harry can’t help but wonder if they would be friends if their connection hadn’t been forged on the basis of what they are, and understanding something that no one else can.  If being vampires hadn’t placed them in each other’s lives and sealed them in a bond of venom and blood, would they even have given the others a second thought?  Would any of them have wanted Harry in their lives?  Harry wants to think yes, but it’s not a question of what he wants; the truth is, Harry is uncertain. 

But when Y/N sits across from him with a smear of ketchup on her bottom lip, smiling softly at Harry as he wipes it off with his thumb, and he can’t stop himself from smiling back, he realizes something that’s never occurred to him before.  He’s able to be cared for by someone who is drawn to him for all the reasons humans are normally drawn to each other, and not because they have a mutual understanding of what it’s like to be an other.

Of course, he knows there’s a certain degree of falsity in that; part of his charm and addictive qualities come from what he is, and Y/N, like any other mortal, isn’t immune to that.  But instead of allowing herself to be driven away by the usual uneasiness that pairs with being so close to a vampire for so long, Y/N is leaning closer to him, laughing as he cracks a bad joke, kissing him over their breakfast, and showing evidence that she— against all odds— wants to know him.  And the thought sends a fluttering below Harry’s ribs. 

He wishes, just for a moment, that he could be capable of feeling the same. He wishes he could have the decency to give this girl the proper relationship she wants, or even the decency to break her heart quickly before she gets too attached to someone incapable of seeing her as anything more than a takeout meal.  He wishes he could get to know her— truly get to know her, without any ulterior motives.

But Harry is vain, self-centered, self-serving, and inconsiderate.  He’s selfish, dishonest, and manipulative.  And he has his fangs too deep in this mortal to let her go. 

///

“Are you sure I can’t pick you up?” Harry slides his phone between his ear and his shoulder in order to snag his keychain from his pocket, fumbling for the right key before inserting it into his locked door. “I can just drop my groceries off and then swing by your cafe, love.  It’s no trouble.”

“No, really, it’s fine, H.” Y/N insists from the other end of the line, her voice nearly drowned out from the roar of L.A. traffic around her. “I already left work, and I’m nearly home.  I’ll be over at your place within, like, forty-five minutes, I think?  I just have to change out of my uniform.”

With his front door now unlocked, Harry grabs his phone from its perch on his shoulder before pushing open the door with his hand full of groceries, stepping inside his apartment and nudging the door shut with his foot. “I know, but it’s a long walk to my place, isn’t it?”

“It’s, like, twenty minutes— practically nothing.  And besides, I have to stop at the post office and mail a letter to my parents.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up as he rounds the corner to his kitchen, setting his grocery bags on the island before leaning his hip against the kitchen counter, his now free hand braced against the cool marble. “You still send your parents letters?  Can’t you just call them?” He asks, tapping a ringed finger against the stone.

“If you knew my parents, you’d send letters, too.” Y/N sighs into the speaker, and Harry’s inhuman ears can hear the jangling of her keys in her hand.  He can picture her searching for them like she did the night they met, digging into her purse until she’s elbow deep, her tongue tucked between her teeth in concentration.

Despite the distinctive sound of a lock turning, Harry can’t stop himself from asking about her well-being. He’s so used to doing it with his other friends, it slips out on impulse. “Are you home now?  Made it alright?”

There’s a hint of exasperated amusement in Y/N’s voice when she responds. “Yes, I managed to walk home all by myself.  Didn’t even get murdered.” There’s another thud, and Harry imagines her shutting her door, pushing her weight against it to lock it properly. “I’m pretty good at taking care of myself, you know.  I have good instincts.” 

If she’s allowed him to get this close to her, Harry thinks, then her instincts aren’t exactly the caliber she imagines them to be, but he bites his tongue to stop himself from correcting her. “I’m sure you do, darling.” He murmurs the reply as he opens his fridge to begin stocking it with the items he’d purchased earlier. “Oh, by the way, make sure you’re wearing comfortable shoes, yeah?  We’re going to be doing a bit of walking later.”

“Right.  And you’re not telling me where we’re going because…?”

“Because surprises are fun.”

When Y/N huffs in response, Harry pictures the girl with a scowl on her face, her arms crossed tightly over her tummy as she gives him an endearing glare. “Not when you’re the one who’s being surprised.” 

Still, despite her protests, Harry hears the rustling of clothing as she pulls off her work polo, followed by the clanking of her belt, the snap of a button, and the familiar rustle of her jeans being peeled off her legs. “You just worry about undressing yourself, alright?  It must be difficult, since you’ve grown so used to me doing it for you.”

“Uh huh.  I’m hanging up now.” Y/N deadpans into the phone, but Harry can tell there’s a lingering smile underneath her flat words. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Alright, doll.  See you soon.” Harry sets a carton of eggs in the fridge before closing it, hanging up the call and slipping his phone back into his black slacks.  

It takes Harry a few more minutes to put the rest of his groceries away in his pantry.  He made sure to stock up on all the ingredients needed to make pancakes at the grocery store, as well as picking up a carton of the fancy pomegranate juice that Y/N had mentioned she was fond of.  In fact, as he was wandering the aisles of his local Whole Foods, he’d found himself seeking out the snacks that he’d seen in her cupboards.  He knows that humans need to eat much more often than vampires do, and seeing as how all the activities Y/N engages in at his condo are rather exhausting and energy-burning, he thought she’d need proper fuel.

After he folds the reusable cloth tote bags he’d brought to the grocery store and puts them back in the pantry, Harry climbs up his glass stairs to his bedroom.  He takes a moment to evaluate his appearance in the full length mirror hanging on the back of his door, sweeping over every detail with a careful eye.  His outfit is alright for what he has planned, he decides; his black slacks and scuffed white vans are comfortable, but more importantly, his white t-shirt embossed with a Hollywood Bowl print that clings to the muscles of his inked arms and broad chest, which Harry knows Y/N will enjoy.  His curls, however, need a bit of tending to, and Harry slinks into his bathroom to add a bit more product to his chestnut locks, getting rid of the little frizz that had developed in the L.A. heat in order to fix his curl pattern.  

As for his jewelry, he leaves on his usual rings: his gold initial pieces, his mother’s opal, his ruby, an engraved band, and his lionhead ring, which shines under the bathroom lights thanks to Y/N’s careful efforts the week before.  Once those are secure, he fastens his pearl necklace around his neck, and fixes the clasp of his cross before slipping a plain gold hoop into his pierced ear.  Once he’s satisfied with his accessories, Harry spritzes his favourite cologne across his body, giving his appearance one more look over as he leaves his bathroom and passes the full length mirror in his bedroom again.  

The Rolex on his wrist tells him that Y/N is due over any moment, and he’s just making sure his Gucci wallet is securely tucked in his trouser pocket when Harry’s ears prick up at the sound of two pairs of feet stomping into his condo downstairs.  It only takes him a moment more to identify the intruders based on their step patterns, and a frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as he checks the time again before sauntering down the stairs.

“And just what do you two,” Harry calls to his unexpected friends as he rounds the corner of the stairs, his eyebrow quirked in question as he steps down from the last platform, “think you’re doing here?”

“We wanted some change in scenery.” Niall quips sarcastically, emerging from the end of the entrance corridor with his hands in his pockets, shoulders shrugging casually. “And I told Xander you might be shirtless, which got him to tag along. But you’re not, much to his disappointment. Though I do think the way you’re about to burst out of that tee suffices. Isn’t that right, Xanny?” 

“That’s not true!” Xander snaps hotly, his cheeks blazing and glare electric as Niall cackles boyishly, stepping around him and towards the kitchen, like he always does when he walks into Harry’s apartment. The tanned man glowers at the other vampire as he makes a beeline for Harry’s refrigerator, slowly pinning his gaze back onto the owner of the condo. He clears his throat awkwardly before offering a solid explanation for their sudden visit. “Adam cancelled on pub trivia night, so we thought you might be available instead.”

Harry shakes his head with a sigh as he makes his way into the kitchen, as well— mostly to make sure Niall doesn’t reach for any of the expensive liquors he has arranged on his bar shelves; they took too long to collect for him to just allow a single person to down one bottle like a shot— and leans both elbows against the marble island. “Sorry, mate.  I’ve got a date with Y/N.”

“So bring her.” Niall pipes up from the fridge, a stolen bottle of Harry’s favourite beer already in his hand. Harry doesn’t complain— it’s a better substitute than his forty year aged scotch. “She went to uni, didn’t she?  She must be smart.”

“I’ve got better things planned for us than pub trivia with two obnoxious knobheads.” Harry retorts, his lips tugging into a smirk at Niall’s responding eyeroll. “That’s not very romantic, is it?  Taking her on a double date with you two?”

“And that’s not very nice, H. I’m offended you wouldn’t go on a double date with Xander and I.” The Irishman sniffles with fake sincerity, biting the bottle cap off his beer despite knowing that Harry keeps a bottle opener in the kitchen drawer to his right. 

Xander watches the spectacle with distaste, his nose wrinkling as Niall spits the cap from his mouth into his hand. “And I’m offended you’d think I’d date someone who does that.”

“It’s not like you have standards.”

“Hey!”

“But then again, no one sets a bar the way I do.”

“The only bar you set for me was potential alcoholism.” Xander mutters spitefully.

“I’d make a great boyfriend.” Niall interrupts with airy confidence, ignoring his friends bickering and taking a deep swig of his beverage, smacking his lips appreciatively. “But humans are too fragile to keep around for long, and most vampires are fucking psychotic. Unfortunately.”

“What about Charlotte?” Harry suggests nonchalantly, hooking his index finger into the cabinet beneath him and fishing for a coaster. He shuts the drawer and skims the item across the top of the counter towards Niall, just in case the man wants to put his glass container down. This is real marble, after all. “She seems pretty tame.” 

Niall glances at the coaster, but doesn’t make any conscious effort to set his drink down. Harry should’ve known; Niall isn’t one to put a pint down until it’s empty, but the possibility is there, nonetheless. It’s not his fault he likes taking care of his home. 

Niall sighs through his nose dismissively, following it with a light rattle of his head. “Charlotte’s too...smart. She’s a bit out of my league, and I feel like she’d get bored of me easily. Also, how would you know if she’s tame or not? You rarely hang out whenever she’s around.” 

“That’s because she hates me.” Harry states flatly, as if it should be obvious. And it should, considering the young woman had not held back on expressing her strong dislike towards the curly brunette. Harry has thick skin and words never hurt him, but Charlotte has a surprisingly vicious vocabulary; if he hadn’t been amused by her anger, she would have come pretty close to genuinely chipping his ego. 

Niall chortles softly. “Well, I mean, you can’t really blame her, can you? You’re kind of a prick.”

“A proper asshole, actually.” Xander chimes in, drumming his digits against the table’s surface and giving Harry a bright, innocent smile. 

The immortal momentarily casts his eyes towards the ceiling in mild annoyance. “Yeah, well, that’s just the way I am. If her and Miss Billy Ray Cyrus can’t handle some dark humor and dirty banter, that’s not my problem. Everyone else seems to like me just fine.” 

“That’s debatable.” Xander corrects. 

“You’re just mad I fucked you once and decided that was enough.” 

“Anywho,” Niall interferes, waving around his beer in order to catch his friends’ attention and prevent a catastrophic World War V, he proceeeds to swivel the topic back onto himself, “like I said, I’d make a great partner. I’m funny, I’ve got a whole shelf full of PS4 games, I like to think my oral skills are pretty decent, and—”

“Have you ever made a girl wet her sheets?” Harry prods with entertained curiosity, cocking an eyebrow questioningly.

Niall pauses mid-sentence with his drink perched to his lips, eyes flitting around thoughtfully as he shovels through cluttered memories of drunken one night stands and fleeting relationships. He relents with a sheepish scoff, shoulders sagging. “...No.”

“Then you’re not as skilled as you think.” Harry remarks passively, titling his head to the side with finality. “And I’m willing to bet Mitch’s next stock of O negative that eighty percent of your hookups probably faked it.” 

“Oi, bet, then.” Niall snorts, grinning around the spout of his beverage as he finishes his sip. He wiggles his brows playfully, squaring his shoulders proudly. “You can’t fake a leg-shake, darling.” 

“A leg-shake?” Harry inquires carefully, pursing his lips to keep from sputtering into pompous laughter. “You mean like this?” He then proceeds to dramatically buckle his right leg, immediately debunking Niall’s ridiculous theory. “Just like that?” 

The Irish bloke’s face drops into a scorned scowl as Xander and Harry break into a round of mocking giggles. He draws into himself with childish pettiness, narrowing his eyes pointedly. “Piss off.”

“Unless she couldn’t walk right afterwards, you didn’t really do what you think you did, Ni.” 

“It seemed pretty real to me!” The blue-eyed boy rebuttals sharply, cheeks tinging bright pink in embarrassment. 

“That’s the point.” 

“This is precisely why I’d never entertain a relationship with you, even as a joke.” Xander pipes up towards Niall, smirking cruelly at his friend’s bruised ego. “I like my orgasms to be real, and I’m not willing to put up an act to spare your fragile masculinity.” 

“Your dick’s probably small, anyways.” 

“Bigger than yours.”

“Is that a challenge? I’ll pull it out right now, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Well,” Harry cuts in loudly, not necessarily keen on watching two grown men compare penis sizes in the middle of his home, “it seems you two have some issues to work out, so the double date is a moot point, anyways.” His jade eyes flicker to his watch again; Y/N should nearly be here, and he doesn’t want these two goons present when she arrives— especially not with their balls out. That wouldn’t be a decent introduction, despite being an unforgettable one. “So I’ll talk to you two later, then.  Thanks for stopping by.”

“Hold up, I practically just cracked my beer.” Niall whines in return, holding up the chilled bottle in protest, leaning his backside against the marble countertop with a decisive motion. “Y’can’t kick us out yet.”

Harry laughs once, the noise sounding more strained than he would like. “Seeing as how I didn’t invite you over, I think I can.” He retorts, tapping a jeweled finger against the table. 

“The blood bag isn’t even here yet,” Xander reasons as he pulls out a chair from the kitchen island, taking a seat and making himself at home as if Harry hadn’t just told him to get the fuck out. “So what's the rush?”

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck prickles at the crude nickname, and the older vampire shoots daggers at the younger as he pushes himself off the marble counter. “There isn’t one, except I think hearing herself be referred to as ‘the blood bag’ may make her a little suspicious, don’t you?”

“We’ve referred to her as worse.” Xander shrugs offhandedly, kicking his feet up onto the bar stool next to him.

Harry’s brows furrow as he pushes Xander’s shoes off his furniture, dusting the leather cushion off. “Referred to her as what?  And when?”

Although Xander lifts one shoulder again as a vague answer, Niall smacks his lips loudly once again as he swallows the rest of the beer, and answers in a matter-of-fact tone. “In Vegas, after you ditched us to get your dick wet.  I think Xander called her a fuckable slab of kobe beef, and—”

“I said ribeye, actually.  Nice flavour, but a little chewy.” Xander corrects the Irishman, but has the decency to look halfway embarrassed when he catches Harry’s stony glare. “And it’s not like we’re wrong, right?  That’s all humans are.”

Niall gives an affirmative nod as he sets his empty bottle down on the marble counter, completely ignoring the coaster Harry had slid to him. “Don’t take it personally, H.  Xanny refers to his own dates as McDonald’s Happy Meal Twinks— at least a ribeye steak is expensive.”

“I’m not taking it personally.” Harry mutters the words in a low voice as his jaw twitches, tensing under the sunlight streaming through his floor-to-ceiling windows. “But comments like these are why you pricks need to get out of here before she shows up, or else I’ll be feeding from one of you tonight.”

A beat of silence falls between the three vampires as the palpable tension flowing off of Harry thickens the room.  Xander and Niall glance between each other and Harry, hardly able to hold the latter’s eyes, before Niall offers a small comment.

“I don’t think Xander would mind that, really—”

“Out.” Harry points a jeweled finger at the entrance corridor with a firm motion. “Both of you.  Go bother Mitch.”

He can see the disappointment and frustration that lingers on Niall and Xander’s faces, but neither of them fight him as they rise from their perches in the kitchen and walk dejectedly to the front door.  Harry briefly entertains the idea of walking them out, but decides against it; there’s a strange buzzing sensation rising through his ribs, and he’s not quite sure what he’ll say as he bids his friends— he has to remind himself that, yes, they’re his friends— goodbye.  It’s safer, he thinks, if he stays where he is and cleans up the mess that they managed to leave behind in their short visit. 

He comes to regret that decision, however, approximately three milliseconds after he hears the front door creak open, and a familiar but unexpected voice echos down the entrance hallway.

“Oh— hi.  Sorry, I may have the wrong apartment…?”

Harry freezes with Niall’s empty beer bottle clutched in his hand, his grip contracting so hard that he hears the thick glass begin to splinter.

“No, no, this is Harry’s apartment.  We were just leaving.” The grin on Niall’s face is audible underneath his Irish accent. “You must be Y/N.”

“I am, yeah.” Harry can hear the tiny thread of surprise at him recognizing her in the human’s words, and the even tinier thread of pleasure that undercuts it.  “And you must be...Niall, I think?  And Xander?”

Niall’s smug reply grates against Harry’s frozen skin, even from down the corridor. “Harry’s told you about us, huh?  Only good things, I hope.”

“Oh, I—”

Harry forces his legs to move with inhuman speed, the beer bottle not even having hit the marble counter by the time Harry appears at Niall and Xander’s shoulders. “Hi, darling.” He says through a strained smile, digging his stony fingers into the back of the two vampire’s arms, an unspoken warning of behave. “Y’made it alright, then?”

When Y/N shines a warm— albeit, slightly confused— smile in his direction, Harry wishes that he’d been faster in shooing his friends out the door, because the action nearly knocks the unrequired breath from his chest.  

She’d dressed in comfortable and casual clothes, as per his suggestion, and is standing just outside the doorway in light washed denim overalls, with a black and white striped t-shirt layered underneath, and her familiar cotton candy pink vans on her feet.  But the detail that digs its way to the forefront of his mind— more so than her satin lips, her heated cheeks that are appled with her smile, and the tousled locks that are pulled back from her face in a low ponytail— is the shining silver cross pendant that hangs on a chain around her smooth neck.

It’s a new addition that Harry has never seen before, and while he knows he shouldn’t be surprised— after all, she’d told him how she grew up in a religious town, how she’d attended church, how she used to say grace before dinner with her friends— the jewelry still piques his curiosity.

“I did, yeah.  It’s really not that long of a walk, H.” Y/N replies, flicking her eyes between Harry and his two friends, who are still watching her every move as if she’s a specimen to be observed. “Sorry, am I interrupting…?”

The Irishman with glasses— Niall, Y/N reminds herself— opens his mouth to respond, but Harry quickly cuts him off as he pushes past his mates to take Y/N’s hand and step outside the apartment, fetching his keys and yellow sunglasses from the small side table by the door in one smooth motion.

“Not interrupting anything, doll.  Niall and Xander were just on their way out.” Although Harry is smiling at her throughout the comment, the mortal can’t help but feel like the last phrase was aimed at the pair still lingering in the doorway.

“We were just stopping by to see if we could steal Harry for a last minute trivia game, but he said he was already booked.” Niall answers with an accepting shrug, glancing at Xander next to him, who’s still yet to say anything to Y/N, though he is carrying an unreadable empty expression as he gives the girl a calculating once-over. “Apparently, whatever he’s got planned for you two is more interesting than a few beers and watching Xander struggle to remember all the battles in World War I—”

“That’s not fair,” The brunette finally chimes in, breaking his attention away from her body to meet the blue-eyed boy’s gaze. Y/N is surprised to hear an American accent fall from his lips. “I’m the only one who wasn’t there, so how would I know—?”

“And you two are already arguing,” Harry cuts over his friends’ bickering, shooting them an annoyed glance as he wraps a cool arm around her waist, cautioning them to watch what they’re saying. “Which will only get worse once you get alcohol in your hands, and that is why I’m not going to subject Y/N to a headache-inducing night of torture.” 

Y/N looks up at Harry with innocent interest swirling in her eyes. “I don’t know, H, it could be fun.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as a crease forms between Harry’s brows. “Don’t you think?”

Niall catches Harry’s eye, taking advantage of Y/N’s distraction to cheekily flash him his crimson irises for a split second, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm that only he can detect. “Yeah, Harry. Don’t you think?”

Jaw tensing, Harry bends down to brush his lips over Y/N’s ear, dampening his irritation down into a smooth and silky tone. “Don’t try to spare their feelings, love.  I’ve got something fun planned for us, I promise.” His teeth graze against Y/N’s skin, and he nearly drags his lips down towards her neck until he remembers her stuttering heartbeat can be heard by the other vampires in their presence.

The two creatures gawk at the image before them, utterly baffled at Harry’s unusual tenderness. It’s very out of character for him, that much is obvious. In all the decades Niall and Xander have been acquainted with the Victorian era immortal, neither have ever seen him be so gentle and touchy with another soul, let alone a human. It feels as if they’re looking at some type of warped parallel universe version of the normally stand-offish young man. 

Xander is the first to clear his throat, throwing Harry an annoyed grimace before pulling Niall out from the condo’s entryway. “We’ll see you later then, Harry.  C’mon, Ni.”

The Irishman offers a quick goodbye, gifting the strange girl a frail wave and a parting smile before being half-dragged down the hallway by Xander. Niall wrenches himself free and shoves Xander’s shoulder playfully as they round the corner to the elevator, their quiet voices— no doubt spinning juvenile gossip— fading out of earshot.  The look in Xander’s eyes had been concerning, Harry thinks, but nothing he needs to worry about right now.  If anything, he wants to forget that encounter as quickly as possible, and needs Y/N to forget it, too.

“So,” he pastes an easygoing grin onto his face as he locks his front door, turning to the mortal with a giddy twinkle in his forest green eyes. “Shall we be off, then?”

There’s a lingering look of confusion reflecting back at him, but Y/N doesn’t press the odd encounter as Harry intertwines his icy fingers with her own warm digits. 

“Alright.” She agrees, raising a questioning eyebrow back at him. “And just where are we going?”

///

“The Los Angeles Antique Mall.” Harry announces proudly when he opens Y/N’s door, extending a ringed hand to help her out of his low-riding car. “Twenty thousand square feet of vintage collectables, artwork, furniture, and anything else you could possibly want.”

Y/N stares up at the massive building in front of them, observing the worn wood facade and the collection of what seems to be (half faded) stained rocking chairs adorning the wraparound porch.  There’s also an impressive amount of wrought iron planters with various greenery scattered between the furniture, with groups of people milling between them as they enter and exit the giant mall. 

“You brought me antiquing?” She asks, an bemused look in her eye as she turns to Harry for an explanation. 

Wrapping his large grasp around her smaller one, Harry nods enthusiastically as he begins to lead her towards the door. “Yeah.  It’s fun, actually.  I’m always up for a bit of a treasure hunt, and I thought, since you’re still furnishing your apartment…”

“You know, now that you mention it… I could use some new curtains for my living room.  Maybe a nice side table.” Y/N allows, stepping over the wooden stairs to the door as Harry tugs her along. “But I’m surprised you like antiquing.  Doesn’t really seem like your thing, if I’m honest.”

A mischievous glint flits through Harry’s jade eyes as he treats her to a grin that’s all teeth. “I’m actually quite fond of antiques, truth be told.  I’ve got a good eye for vintage collectables.  And…” He lazily tugs on the handle of the door to open it, stepping to the side to allow Y/N to walk through first. “Maybe we’ll find a nice painting to replace that god awful tapestry in your bedroom.”

A scoff of indignation falls from Y/N’s mouth as she turns on her heel to punch Harry’s sturdy upper arm, nearly getting too distracted by the ropes of muscle beneath his tight sleeve to give a response. “I like that tapestry!  And, seeing as how you’re either sleeping or fucking me when you’re in said room, I’m a little offended that my tapestry is the thing you focus the most on.”

Harry bites his bottom lip between his teeth.  If only she knew how much time he actually spends staring at it. 

“Well, there’s certainly other things I focus on…” He replies with a casual air, slipping his hand into the back pocket of Y/N’s overalls to cup her ass suggestively, guiding her along the aisles of antiques. “But nothing ruins a post-orgasm glow like poor interior design, sweetheart. S’a bit of a buzzkill, y’know?”

“So is being patronized.” Y/N deadpans, extracting Harry’s hand from her back pocket as a hot flash begins to creep up her spine. “You keep mocking my interior design choices, and your orgasms are going to get a lot less frequent.”

The vampire belly laughs as he throws an arm around her shoulders, the action as natural to him as breathing once was. “I don’t believe that for one fucking second.” He replies gleefully, smudging an open mouthed kiss to Y/N’s temple. 

“You don’t, huh?” The human girl raises an eyebrow, cocking her head to scan the towering racks of oddities all around them. “I wonder if we can find you a vintage fleshlight here?”

“Already got one, doll,” Harry rolls his eyes as he brushes his cool fingers along Y/N’s exposed collarbone, his eyes catching the cross pendant again and brimming with curiosity. “And it’s just the tip of the iceberg that is my toy chest, y’know that—” 

Y/N feels Harry’s arm suddenly tense around her, his muscles contracting as his touch jolts away from her collarbones, his hand flexing beneath the open skylights of the building. “Everything okay?” Y/N asks, all her teasing fading away, replaced with concern as she pauses her steps toward the shelves. 

“I—” Harry flexes his fingers again, slowly removing his arm from her shoulder to examine his hand.  The tips of his fingers are a bright red, crimson burns contrasting against his pink skin, and although it only takes a few moments for the marks to fade, the uneasy feeling bubbling in Harry’s stomach lasts. “Yeah.  My, uh, my hand just cramped.  But it’s fine now, I think.”

Who the fuck, he wonders as he cautiously slings his arm back around Y/N’s shoulders, wears a cross made of, not silver as Harry originally suspected, but polished iron?  

Iron jewelry had fallen out of fashion a century ago, and Harry had never been more thankful than when it did, given how his flesh scorches at merely brushing the metal. When he took his family’s trinkets as a way to remember them before he had to leave, Harry had snuck into his father’s forge in the dead of the night to dip the jewelry in gold that he’d stolen from a local merchant who cheated poor peasants out of their valuables.  It had been a tedious task, and rather dangerous due to the threat of being caught, but it had also been necessary; if he hadn’t taken the risk, he wouldn’t have his sister’s cross earring, or his father’s matching cross necklace.  His dad’s pocket watch, luckily, had been made of silver, and didn’t need a golden bath, but everything else had to be encased to protect Harry’s skin.  

Iron jewelry had been a deterrent to him in the years to come after he was turned; it wasn’t uncommon for him to find a pretty young girl from a village and sneak her away for a night of fun, only to discover an iron chain dangling from her neck when he leaned in to take a bite.  It wasn’t a permanent problem, of course, as there were plenty of other soft places he could sink his teeth into, but it had been an annoyance then, and it still annoys him now. 

Harry does his best to push the irritation to the back of his mind, he really does.  He shows Y/N around the twisting maze of antiques, and does his best to showcase one of his favourite hideaways in L.A.  He points to anything and everything that could interest her, and doesn’t hesitate when she asks him to reach something heavy perched on a high shelf, even if she just wants to examine it out of curiosity.  Harry pulls out typewriters, vintage cameras, tarnished cigarette lighters, and a pastel yellow bicycle with an attached wicker basket from 1941, presenting all of the objects with the enthusiasm of a showcase model on The Price is Right, spouting falsified information about each product in the best impression of Bob Barker he can pull off (“This ancient, rusted bicycle— once owned by the Queen of England herself— can be all yours for just one easy payment of $8.99! Taxes and shipping not included.”). 

And although all of that incites multiple tinkling laughs from Y/N, and lights a glimmer in her eye, and compels her to walk closer and closer to Harry until she lets him sneak his palm back into the backside pocket of her overalls, the mystery of her necklace still eats at the far end of his brain. And it’s that insipid, insistent pest of a thought that causes Harry to readjust his grip on the framed Monet print he’d spotted in the racks (Y/N had tried to deny how much she liked it in order to thwart Harry’s triumphant smirk, but she still asked him to grab it for her with a grumble) and spare another glance to the innocent looking cross resting atop her clavicle. 

“That’s a pretty little piece.” Harry slips into a nonchalant tone with ease, nodding towards the necklace as he navigates the two of them around a corner. “Why have I never seen you wear it before?”

Y/N brushes her fingertips over the iron cross with a gentle motion.  Her fingers don’t scorch with a mere graze of the metal, Harry notes scathingly.  Not that he expected it from someone like Y/N. 

“Because I don’t wear it often.” She replies, lifting one shoulder without a second thought. “It was my grandmother’s— not, like, originally, but she’d owned it, and gave it to my mom, who gave it to me, so I guess it counts as a family heirloom, huh?”

“Guess so.” The vampire murmurs in agreement, prickles of wonder still coasting against his skin. “So what made you drag it out today?” Did you subconsciously realize that your neck needs protection when I’m near? Harry tacks on in his head, his brow furrowing at the troubling thought. 

And at that question, Y/N’s eyes drop to the floor, as if her bubblegum pink vans need an audience for every step they take. “Uh, I was just a little homesick, that’s all.” She mumbles the reply, her shoulders sagging as a dark shadow passes through her usually dazzling eyes. 

Homesickness.  The one human feeling that Harry can still relate to. “I’m sorry to hear that, darling.” He removes his hand from her back pocket to wind it around her shoulders again, mindful of the jewelry in question. “Did anything in particular happen, or…?”

Y/N lifts her shoulders once again as she tucks her hands into her pockets, her posture closing off more and more with every passing moment. “Not really.  I don’t know, I— normally I’m fine, but when I addressed my letter to my parents today, it took me a moment to remember my ZIP code.  It’s the same ZIP code I’ve had all my life, but… I nearly forgot it.” She glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, and Harry realizes that dark shadow is guilt.  She feels guilty. “I’ve been in L.A. for less than six months, and almost forgot my parent’s ZIP code.  I didn’t think that could ever happen.”

Harry hums low in his throat, a noise of understanding and finality.  It’s homesickness, that’s all.  That’s explainable, and understandable, and should be enough information to silence the gnawing irritation in his chest. 

And yet...

“Do you believe in God?” The question escapes from Harry’s mouth before he can even think to censor it, his own eyes widening on his behalf as his grip on the Monet print nearly releases from the surprise. 

“What?” Y/N stops in her tracks, although she nearly stumbles forward when Harry’s sturdy arm catches behind her shoulders as her eyes boggle at him. “I don’t— what does God have to do with antiquing?”

If Harry didn’t have to worry about digging himself out of the whole he created, he’d laugh at the incredulous expression on his lover’s face. “I was just curious, s’all.” He struggles to keep his voice casual, steadying his feet against the wooden floor in an effort to ground himself mentally. “I know you were raised with religion, but you don’t really go to church here— not that church equals a belief, but—”

“Um, I don’t…” Y/N extends her arm to let her fingers graze over the shelf of old lunch boxes next to them, feeling each dip of every embossed cartoon character. “I don’t know.  I don’t really believe in, like, a concept of God— at least, not the one I was raised with.  But I believe in…” She trails off as she attempts to gather her thoughts, chewing on her bottom lip absentmindedly as she searches for the right words. “Something.  I don’t really know if it’s a deity, or an energy, or just coincidence, but… I think there’s something out there that guides us.”

“So you believe in souls.” Harry’s mouth presses into a flat line, his jaw clenching for just a moment as he grits his teeth and then reiterates her previous point. “The thing that allows us to be guided, that is.” 

Or allows her to be guided, Harry thinks bitterly, casting his eyes towards their path ahead of them to avoid Y/N’s prying gaze. That’s really the only reason he’d brought up this entire religion conversation— the only reason he ever brings it up: he wants to know if she believes in souls, because in order to be guided by whatever higher power supposedly exists, one needs a soul.  And Harry’s fairly certain his was stolen from him in 1837. 

“I suppose.” Y/N allows, tracing the embossed lettering of a vintage Wonder Woman lunch box. “A soul, an energy, an aura— they’re all kind of the same thing to me.  The thing that keeps your heart beating.  I don’t think it needs to be tied to a religion; there’s so many different religions, but everyone has a heartbeat, you know?”

Harry nearly laughs out loud at the irony, but manages to stifle the sound into a non-committal hum. “Does your something include heaven and hell, or is that too based in Christianity?” He asks, half out of curiosity and half out of necessity. “If someone were to lose their soul…” He knows he sounds insane asking the question, but it bubbles out of him before he can choke it back. “Would you think them damned?”

The mortal girl stares at him blankly for a moment, her mouth just barely open as she considers his words.  He shouldn’t have asked, and he knows that— he knew it the moment the first question fell from his lips.  But the more they discussed the topic, the more it nagged at him.  Y/N, with all her good nature, her listening skills, and her soft heart, are most certainly bound for whatever good lies in store when a soul actually leaves a body.  Harry, on the other hand… If the monster’s conscience were to ever leave this Earth, he knows it’s not for the metaphorical pearly white gates. And for some reason, that notion bothers him more right now than it has in the last twenty decades.

“Um…” A nervous laugh echoes from Y/N’s mouth, the smile curling the edges of her lips not quite reaching her eyes. “Okay, this topic is way too serious for me to discuss sober.  Can I take a rain check on the damnation questions?  I’m getting Sunday school flashbacks, and living through that once was bad enough.”

Harry wills a smile onto his own face, but the expression is more apologetic than anything as he grips Y/N’s hand in his to tow her down an aisle of antique kitchen equipment. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you with such heavy questions. I guess I just wanted to get to know my partner in justice a bit more.” 

Y/N takes it in good stride, just as she usually does, her smile relaxing the moment she sees Harry’s dimples peek out from his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it, Sherlock.  I’d expect nothing less from such an established detective.”

As the pair pass under another skylight, Y/N’s cross glints at Harry as if to mock him. 

///

Y/N isn’t lost.

To the untrained eye, the mindless path she takes through the towering and twisting rows of the antique mall may seem like the wandering of someone who has no recollection of where they came from, nor where they’re going, but Y/N is adamant that she isn’t lost.  She isn’t, because when she split from Harry to take a trip to the washroom, he’d warned her not to get lost in the internal maze of the mall.  And Y/N, with a glare in her eyes and a scathing remark on her lips, had assured him that she, a grown woman, would be able to find her way back after she was done, and “Honestly, H, just wander a bit.  I’ll be able to find you easily.”

So Y/N isn’t lost, because she refuses to prove Harry right.  He’s already a cocky asshole with a huge ego, and she couldn’t bear seeing that ego enlarge as a triumphant smirk paints over his face the moment she calls him on his cellphone, admits defeat, and asks him to come find her.  She’ll do a lot of things for that man, but that isn’t one of them.

With that in mind, she turns down a corridor of the labyrinth of collectables, trying to find any discernible items that she could use to pinpoint her location in the labyrinth.  The yellow bicycle, maybe, or one of the vintage cameras Harry had pretended to photograph her with, or even the strange five foot carving of Bugs Bunny that she and Harry had agreed is probably possessed by a demon.  A haunted Bugs Bunny could lead her to her destination— or kill her, truthfully, but either option seems preferable over the solidifying future of having to call Harry.

After another five minutes of aimless ambling, Y/N retrieves her phone from her pocket, a grimace crawling its way onto her face as she opens her contacts to click on Harry’s name.  Her finger hovers just over the phone icon, mere millimetres from humiliation, when a few out of place piano notes float by her ears and catch her attention.

Y/N tucks her phone back into her overall pocket as her curiosity takes over, urging her ears to strain towards the distant melody, as well as for her legs to follow. It’s not long before Y/N is walking with purpose again, albeit a different purpose than before.  As the music gets louder, Y/N begins to pick out more details— how the piano notes that prick her ears are slightly out of tune, how the player begins and stops and begins again, dragging out different phrases, speeding through others with no clear intention.  The minor key of the piece makes Y/N feel like she’s walking into a memory as she wades through the shelves of long-forgotten belongings, old photographs of deceased people in Victorian fashions watching while the young woman falls back in time.

The music grows louder as Y/N reaches a dark corridor with wood paneling lining the walls, and a painted sign saying “Music Room” beckons her down the passageway.  She follows with slow steps, and while she knows that maybe leaving the main mall area and losing her way down here isn’t a smart idea, the music that’s beginning to grow impossibly sweet pulls her forward.  Y/N rounds the corner to find the oak doors to the music room swung open, and when she lays her eyes on the figure sitting at the mahogany ground piano, she recognizes the silhouette of Harry’s back and shoulders immediately.

Y/N’s gaze falls from his flexing shoulder blades to his inked hands, the jewels on his rings catching the low light of the room as his lithe fingers dance over the dusty ivory keys.  He coaxes a melody from the instrument without any difficulty, as if the music had been simmering beneath his skin for ages.  Maybe it has, Y/N thinks, as she watches from the doorway with quiet wonder, and although she plans on silently observing for as long as she can, Harry only completes a few more phrases before the music drifts to a halt.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d find me.” He murmurs, clearing his throat of the rasp that had settled in his vocal chords as he played. “Thought I’d be getting a scared phone call any moment now.”

The human girl steps into the room slowly, gliding around to the cut out of the piano and leaning across the lacquered wood. “I wasn’t scared.  And I would’ve found you sooner if you’d stayed put. I said wander a bit, not all the way across the building.” She retorts jokingly, trailing a finger along the smooth edge of the piano. All of the sarcasm in her voice melts right out, replaced by intrigue. “I didn’t know you played piano.”

“I, uh, I don’t.  Not much anymore, anyways.” Harry runs his digits between the keys again, using only enough pressure to dust the top of the ivory covers. “I wasn’t sure I’d remember how, honestly, but this…” He lifts an index finger to brush the dust off the gold embossed brand name. “It looks like the one I learned on, so…”

Y/N takes a seat on the wooden bench next to Harry, her shoulder bumping against his as she leans in to smudge a kiss across his cheek. “It sounded beautiful.” She assures him, noting the hesitation in his explanation. “What’s that piece called?”

“It’s one of Chopin’s Nocturnes, in C-Sharp Minor.” Harry curves his fingers over the keys, as if he’s about to begin again, but then relaxes the digits as he exhales harshly. “I don’t play it as well as— as the person who taught me.”

There seems to be a hidden story beneath those words, but Y/N doesn’t press it; if Harry wants to tell her, then he’ll tell her.  If not… Well, she’d rather not drag a sour memory from him in the middle of an antique mall.  Instead, she drags her fingers over his thigh, rubbing just above his knee in a comforting manner. 

“How long have you been playing?” She asks softly, tracing over a black lacquered key with her free hand.  When she pulls away, her finger is coated in dust, and she wonders how long it’s been since the piano has been touched by someone else.

The corner of Harry’s lips twitch, as if her question is particularly humorous. “A while.” He answers simply, and he tilts his head to the side to press his face against the top of Y/N’s head, inhaling the scent of her favourite shampoo. 

“A while?” Y/N repeats the vague answer to prompt further explanation, but when she gets none, she switches to another inquiry. “Can you play me something?”

The moment she utters the question, Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No, I— no.  I’m not that good, love, and I don’t really play for people.”

Surprise colors Y/N’s voice when she replies, lifting her head from Harry’s shoulder to look him in the eye. “This isn’t the time for false modesty, H.” She says, tapping two fingers against his knee as punctuation. “Since when have you been humble?”

A bark of a laugh escapes Harry’s chest in spite of himself, and he curls his fingers over Y/N’s to move her hand further up his thigh. “I’m not modest!  Don’t insult me like that, darling.  S’not nice.”

“Prove it, then.” Y/N massages over Harry’s inner thigh as she issues the challenge, baiting the vampire’s ego with ease. “Play me something.  Show off a little bit.”

Harry squeezes Y/N’s hand once as a quiet groan twists his lips into a pout. “You’re getting pretty good at manipulating me, y’know that?” He mutters, poising his lacquered fingertips back over the instrument. “Fine.  Do you want something sad or happy?”

Y/N ponders the question as she leans her head back onto Harry’s shoulder, her lips finding the edge of his jaw and pecking his cool skin for just a moment. “Both.”

“Both.” Harry repeats with a snort, shaking his head in exasperation as his hands drift to a new position on the keys. “Indecisive little thing, aren’t you?”

The mortal girl lifts her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug, scratching her nails along the fabric of Harry’s pants. “Just play me something.  Please?”

It’s the simplest request with the most complicated implication, but Harry can’t find a good reason to refuse it. 

“This is, um, another Chopin piece.” He feels clumsy in his explanation, struggling to remember the details that he’d once memorized in an effort to seem impressive. “Another Nocturne, in E-flat this time.”

Harry’s fingers begin to dance over the keys, and Y/N listens in amazement as a melody that is both happy and sad begins to spiral out from the body of the piano, wrapping her inside the warmth of the music.  

Not every phrase is even— the more Harry plays, it seems, the more the music phrases, bending and shaping itself around his elegant fingers, rolling with his every movement.  As the music begins to get sadder, however, Y/N notices the change in Harry’s face, and how each phrase begins to get choppier as his fingers stumble their way over the keys. 

Y/N smudges another kiss against Harry’s jaw when his fingers trip up again, squeezing his knee with reassurance. “Keep going.” She murmurs, rubbing his leg lightly as the music stutters again. “It’s nice.”

“I—” The music halts with a jerk of Harry’s hands, which he retracts from the keys as if the ivory burns him. “I don’t remember the rest.” He mumbles, laying his stubbled cheek against the top of Y/N’s head. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.  I really liked it.” Y/N trails her own fingers over the keys, pressing a few of the lacquered notes with idle interest.  The melody she spins out isn’t nearly as nice as the one Harry played, and she laughs at her own expense. “I’m not nearly as good.  I took a few lessons as a kid, but begged my mom to let me quit.  I wish I’d stuck with it.”

“That wasn’t too bad.” Harry’s dimples wink at her as he smiles boyishly, nodding to the keys with false reassurance. “That little tune sounded a lot like Mozart.”

“Uh huh.” The mortal girl rolls her eyes at the lie, bracing her palms against the polished wooden bench before rising from her seat. “Despite that praise, I don’t think I’ll be adding this piano to my shopping cart.” 

“Hm.  Too bad.” Her lover trails his fingers after her, reaching for her hand and intertwining her grasp with his. “It could make a pretty addition to your apartment, I think.”

“It would take up my entire apartment, more like it.” Y/N scoffs as she raps the fingers of her free hand against the side of the piano. “I don’t even think I could fit this in my living room.  Your apartment, however…” She raises an eyebrow as a grin works its way over her face. “You could fit it easily.  You should buy it.”

Harry rolls his eyes as he lets her hand fall from his palm, touching the keys one last time before shutting the cover over the keyboard. “I’m not buying the piano.”

“Why not?” Eyes widening in surprise, Y/N leans onto the instrument, gesturing with her arms the same way Harry did earlier as she shifts her voice to mimic Bob Barker. “It’s made of genuine mahogany, was once played by Beethoven himself, and can be yours, for the low, low price of—” She reaches around the side of the instrument to grab the tag tied around the leg. “Eight hundred and—holy shit, are you kidding me?”

Harry hums in response as he rises from the bench, shrugging his shoulders before crossing his arms around his tummy. “That’s actually a fairly good price for a used piano, you know.” 

Y/N blinks at him, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find words. “I— okay, yeah.  Sure.  So you should get it, then, if you consider that a ‘fairly good price’.” 

“I could,” Harry agrees, his muscles flexing beneath his tight t-shirt as he reaches to pick up the painting leaning against the instrument. “But I won’t.”

Her brow wrinkling in confusion, Y/N watches as Harry begins to examine the other objects in the room, turning his attention to the book-lined shelves and antique lamps. “Why?” 

The man sighs as he fingers the tassels hanging from a— in Y/N’s humble opinion— particularly ugly lamp. “Because I already have one—”

“You do?”

“—but it’s been in storage ever since I got to L.A. And while I usually love things in excess… alcohol, statement jewelry, orgasms—” He flashes a toothy grin at Y/N. “I don’t think overly-heavy instruments fall into any of those categories.”

“Why is it in storage?” Y/N asks, bemusement laced through her voice.  Before Harry began to stumble through the piece, there was a look on his face that Y/N hasn’t seen very often; a serene air swirled through his eyes, hiding something beneath it that Y/N couldn’t quite make out.  And she wants to. 

“Because I don’t have any interest in playing anymore.  Honestly, darling, I haven’t thought about it in years.” Harry laughs in a nonchalant manner, moving from the antique lamp to the creaking rocking chair in the corner. “Y’can have it, if you like.  Probably do you more good than me.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the deflection, turning her attention away from the topic at hand. “I’m good.” She responds dryly, drifting over to the floor to ceiling bookshelf bolted to the wall. 

Her eyes trail over the exposed spines of the books, reading over the variety of titles with piqued interest.  The amount of genres she sees is countless, ranging from trashy paperback romance novels to timeless classics embossed in gold.  The farther up Y/N glances, the older the books appear, and she gets more and more curious as she glides her fingers over the rippled covers of the books within her reach.

While the novels climb up the height of the bookshelf to the ceiling, Y/N can only manage to reach halfway up the length she needs to, even while stretching on her tiptoes.  She settles down on the balls of her feet with a pout playing on her lips, her attention turning to the wheeled ladder that runs along bars bolted to the bottom of the shelving unit.  It looks rather old— like everything in the antique mall— and Y/N isn’t quite sure it’ll support her weight, despite her test of gripping a rung and pushing on it.

“Harry, c’mere,” She calls over her shoulder, hands gripping the sides of the dusty ladder as she balances a foot on the bottom rung.

Upon her beckoning, Harry saunters over, the painted print she’d selected still grasped in his ringed hand. “Yeah?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in question. “What is it?”

“Can you help me climb up the ladder?” Y/N nods her head towards the far-reaching shelves, biting her bottom lip with pleading eyes. “I want to see what’s on the top shelves.”

Harry’s gaze follows Y/N’s gesture towards the top of the library wall, a look of trepidation flickering through his eyes. “Is that really necessary?”

“Yes,” Y/N answers curtly, lifting her other foot onto the bottom rung before moving from her original step to the next. “And it’ll be a lot easier if you help me.”

Despite his protests, Harry sets down the framed print and complies with the request, grasping Y/N around her waist with firm hands as she scurries up the rickety ladder.  She can feel his fingertips pressing into her love handles over the denim, and it would be a lie to say she doesn’t enjoy it, but she refocuses her attention onto reading over the embossed titles that she couldn’t see from below.

“Y’know, on second thought… take all the time you need, dove.” Harry calls from below her, the smirk evident in his voice as he squeezes her hips once with a laugh. “I’ve got quite the view from here.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N releases one hand from the ladder to tug a novel off the shelf, examining the half exposed cover before sliding it back into its place. “I bet you do.” She retorts, wiggling her hips just enough to tease him without losing her precarious balance on the ladder.

Although the motion is meant to be a joke, Harry can’t stop the flash of genuine fear that ignites in his chest.  Humans are fragile, he knows, and a fall from the height that Y/N has climbed to could sprain her wrist, or injure her back, or crack open her skull like an egg, or—

“Careful there, Watson.” Harry attempts to disguise the worry in his voice behind a lighthearted joke as his grip on the human girl strengthens. “Wouldn’t want an accident to happen, now, would we?”

“That’s why I’ve got you, Holmes.” A tinkling laugh falls from her lips as she risks a glance over her shoulder at him, her eyes alight with amusement, before turning her attention back to the old novels. “You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, would you?”

There’s a nervous truth hidden underneath her words, and Harry knows it, but that doesn’t stop it from making his skin itch as the casual phrase sinks into his body.  In all his years, however, Harry’s gotten quite good at hiding his emotions, and this is no different.  

Instead of giving a sincere answer, Harry hardens his reply of “F’course I wouldn’t, pet.  Y’can never be too careful.” by letting one jeweled hand drift from Y/N’s hip to her backside, cupping it gently to support her, and taking delight in the way he can feel her body tense beneath his new touch.

It takes Y/N a moment to find her breath again, and when she does, all she can muster is a hum in the back of her throat. “Mhmm.” She sighs, trying her best to refocus on the books lining the shelves in front of her as she climbs higher. “Is that why your hand is grabbing my ass, you pervert?”

“Y’know, that seems to be your favourite nickname for me.” Harry’s smirk deepens as he contracts his hand, squeezing her fleshy backside after she takes another step higher. “I wonder why that is?”

“I wonder.” The flat response echoes from Y/N’s mouth as she pulls another book from the shelf to examine it before replacing it a moment later. “Maybe— and this is just a suggestion, so take it with a grain of salt, but— maybe if you didn’t act like a pervert, you’d get a nicer nickname.”

Although Y/N’s retorts are droll and to the point, Harry can hear the way her heartbeat begins to stutter each time he massages her, and it’s that fluttering rhythm that encourages him to grasp the sides of the ladder with both hands and pull himself up a couple rungs. 

“A nicer nickname, huh?” He breathes in her ear, pressing his chest to her back both to be close to her and to give her more support on the ladder. “Like ‘slut’?” Harry stifles the groan that nearly rolls from his throat when he feels Y/N stiffen. “That’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?”

“I—” Swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat, Y/N grips the sides of the ladder tight between her hands, her skin stretching over her tense knuckles as Harry’s breath begins to hit her neck. “Maybe. I...I suppose.”

Harry laughs quietly as he takes another step up the ladder, keeping himself braced against Y/N as he begins to smear kisses along the side of her neck, mindful of the iron cross that still hangs there. “You suppose?” He repeats, his tone slightly mocking when he hears the mortal shudder. “What about your other favourites?  Y’like when I call you my pretty little plaything, don’t you?”

The honey and lavender fragrance wafting over Harry intensifies as Y/N’s blood pumps faster and faster, the only sound emerging from the human girl being a quiet whimper from the back of her throat.

“There’s another one, though… another nickname…” Letting his teeth gently graze her earlobe, Harry whispers directly in Y/N’s ear, keeping his voice low and throaty as he does so. “It’s on the tip of my tongue, baby...” He suckles sloppily along her pulsing neck, delighting in the taste of her sweet skin in his mouth. “Remind me what it is?”

Already, Y/N’s breathing has grown ragged, and he waits a moment for the aroused girl to form a response, encouraging her with every nip of his teeth.  Just when Harry is about to ask again, she manages to choke out a reply.

“Whore.” She whispers, the embarrassment in her voice overpowered by the lust running through her veins. “I like it when you call me your whore.”

“That’s my good girl.” A satisfied smile tugs at the edge of Harry’s lips as he stamps a gentle kiss to Y/N’s jaw. “That’s another one, too.  My good girl.  And because you’re my good girl…” Harry snakes his right hand from the rung of the ladder to the buttons of Y/N’s overalls, deftly undoing the side snaps and gradually slipping his hand into the space between the denim and her clammy skin. “You’re going to keep looking for your books while I have some fun.”

Y/N lets out a broken gasp as Harry’s fingertips graze over her cotton panties, and her grip on the railing slackens as a rush of heat falls between her legs. 

“Careful, baby.” Harry cautions her, his left hand wrapping around hers and resetting her grasp on the ladder. “Can’t have any fun if you let go, hm?”

“We—” She twists her head to the side, straining to look over her shoulder and towards the entrance as Harry’s digits dance over the dampening spot on her panties. “Someone could walk in, Harry—”

Of course someone could, Harry thinks, but exhibitionism is so much easier to indulge when one has inhuman hearing that can detect the pounding of an approaching heart from fifty feet away.  He doesn’t disclose this information to Y/N, however, for a number of reasons, and instead chooses to scrape his teeth along the shell of her ear once more, his ruby lips soothing the marks instantly. 

“You let me worry about that, alright?” He murmurs lowly, sliding Y/N’s cotton panties to the side and dragging his index and middle finger through her dripping folds, enjoying how she shivers against his chest. “You just focus on finding the book you want and being a good little whore for me, princess.  Let me take care of the rest.”

When Y/N reflects on this moment in bed tonight, her clammy palms twisting around the sheets as she inhabits the memory of Harry’s mint-scented breath swirling around her as he massages two fingers around her throbbing clit with a teasing touch, one specific detail will stick out to her.  She won’t focus on how her heart is pounding so hard that she feels her chest might burst, or how her fingers shake as she reaches for another book on the shelf, per Harry’s quiet but intent instructions.  The thing that Y/N will remember in wonder and— on some level, self consciously— is how quickly the anxiety that spikes through her veins at the possibility of someone walking in and finding the two of them in such a compromising position bleeds into a high like no other.

Y/N likes to entertain the idea that she’s fairly adventurous, and has been open to a lot of things, especially since meeting Harry, but this— allowing him to finger her in a music room at an antique mall, where any customer or employee could discover them— is something so outside of her character that Y/N can’t think straight.  When Harry first slips his long middle finger inside her slick center, the girl nearly collapses, and Harry’s broad chest braced behind her is the only thing that keeps her upright on the ladder.

“Y’like that, doll?” Harry’s hot breath rolls over her neck as he purrs the words, adjusting his grip on the side of the ladder as his other hand skillfully toys with the human in slow and deep strokes. “Filthy little thing, you are, letting me play with you like this.”

The sinful remark draws a mewling moan from Y/N’s mouth as her head dips back onto Harry’s sturdy shoulder, her hands dropping all pretense of searching for a book and clutching the ladder like she normally clutches her sheets, or the headboard of whoever’s bed Harry has tossed her onto. “H-Harry…” She whimpers, her eyelashes fluttering as he circles his thumb around her clit. “Fuck…”

“You pretend to be so sweet, but you and I know the truth, don’t we?” The vampire sponges another kiss along her throat as he delights in the wet sounds his fingers make, which easily become drowned out by the quiet noises of bliss leaving his lover’s mouth. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

Y/N nods fervently as she allows her weight to fall back against Harry’s sturdy chest, trusting him to support her as he thrusts another finger inside her. “Anything, H, I—” The desperate proclamation is cut off as Harry curls his digits, bumping against the spot in the pit of her tummy that sets her entire nervous system on fire. “Shit, right there, baby, right there…”

Harry’s smug voice rings in her ear as he slows his stride, dragging his fingers in and out of her hot core at a pace that’s nearly criminal. “Y’don’t need to tell me, I know.” He pushes himself forward again, flushing Y/N between his chest and the ladder with just enough room to continue his activities. “I know what you like, how you like it, where you like it… Know my girl so well.”

As Y/N adjusts to the newly close proximity, the bulge in Harry’s slacks grows more apparent, rubbing against her backside over and over with each plunge of Harry’s fingers.  She lets out a strangled whine at the feeling, carving her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to keep herself quiet. 

“You feel me, don’t you, minx?” Harry moans into her ear, catching his teeth along the shell before dragging them down her jaw to settle his lips just above her throbbing pulse point. “You feel what you’re doing to me?  How just a single whimper from those pretty lips, and one touch of your soaked cunt makes my cock ache?”

Despite her best efforts, a ragged sob breaks through Y/N’s self-imposed gag order, and her chest heaves within Harry’s tight embrace as her head lolls to the side. “I-I want it.” She pleads, her half-lidded eyes struggling to find Harry’s emerald irises in her haze. 

Those sea glass eyes, darker than she’s ever seen them, widen with fake surprise as his mouth curls into a smirk.  When Harry replies, his normally soothing dulcet voice is filled with insincere mocking. “Oh, you want it, do you?  You want me to fuck you in here?” Dropping his voice to its usual low resonance, Harry growls the next phrase in the human’s ear. “I know you want it, you fucking slut.  But you can’t have it right now.  So if I’m going to let you cum—” The conditional phrase pulls a sound of protest from her throat. “—then you’re going to have to do it around my fingers.” 

The begging girl cries out against his neck as her walls clench around his touch, the stifled pants that she gasps into Harry’s ear urging him to speed up.  Instead of giving her what she wants, Harry curls his fingers inside her, pressing deeper into that spongy spot to elicit another broken whine from her.  When he receives it, however, it’s accompanied by an unexpected blinding burn. 

The iron cross that hangs so delicately around Y/N’s fragile throat has slung to the side in her writhing pleasure, finding its way from her flushed collarbones to the base of Harry’s icy neck.  The vampire grinds his teeth as he feels the brand begin to form, choking back the sound of agony that fights its way out of his mouth.  His left hand clenches around the ladder, his knuckles stretching white as the waxed wood nearly splinters under his palm, while his right hand stutters its pace inside his lover, prodding harshly at her G-spot as a single grunt makes it past the cracks of his teeth.

Harry knows he needs to remove the cross from his skin, but he has no way of doing so without alerting Y/N to his discomfort.  If he lets go of the rung, both of them will tumble off, and Y/N has made it obvious how much she trusts him to keep her safe; that option is hardly an option, Harry thinks, struggling to keep his mind present as he fights through the pain.  The other option— the only one, really— is to retract his fingers from between the mortal’s thighs, feign some excuse as to why, and do his best to keep her from noticing the cross-shaped burn mark on his neck that will surely disappear within a few moments of the iron being removed.  It’ll be jarring, he knows, to pull Y/N from the subspace he can tell she’s beginning to slip into, and Harry hates it, but there’s nothing to be done.  His hand contracts inside her, desperately massaging her walls one last time before he retreats to—

The sharp action drags a mangled whine from Y/N’s throat, the sound more shattered than anything Harry has ever heard from her before, and it pulls Harry’s attention from the charring sensation of the cross branding his skin to the overwhelmed girl in his arms.  As Y/N lets her entire body fall against Harry’s chest, her eyes completely shut as she gives into the pleasure bubbling in her tummy, a realization dawns on Harry, searing him nearly as much as the metal on his inhuman flesh: he can’t let go of her.  He’s in too deep— literally, obvious in the way she tightens around his fingers— and if he were to stop now, Y/N would go into a sensitive daze that he can’t deal with in a public space.  If he lets go of her now, he’ll lose the connection he’s spent the last two months making. She might get over it, given that it’s just an orgasm, but subconsciously, there’s a possibility she could resent him for it. Especially in the extremely delicate phase she’s in at the moment. 

He knows it sounds stupid, but he can’t risk that.  He just can’t.  He’ll take burning agony over that any day. 

When Harry reflects on this moment in bed tonight, his jeweled fingers carefully combing through Y/N’s knotted locks as she shifts in his arms, the bite mark on her neck freshly faded to a light bruise, her chest rising and falling gently with quiet breaths, one specific detail will stick out to him.  He won’t focus on the blinding pleasure of Y/N grinding against his hardened bulge, her body moving of its own accord as she gives in completely to the sensations Harry pulls from her.  He won’t focus on the explicit moans that show she’s given up on attempting to quiet, her voice reverberating in Harry’s mouth as he inhales every desperate breath she exhales.  When Harry reflects on this moment, the thing he’ll remember the most is how the second he accepted his fate— that he’d have to bear the pain in order to keep Y/N happy, and he feels like there’s probably some deeper subliminal message hidden beneath that realization, though he refuses to indulge it— the mortal girl tilts her head to the side and begins to kiss Harry’s neck, soothing the scorched mark with her silky tongue. 

The relief is so sweet that Harry nearly cries out a fractured mewl, letting his head fall forward into Y/N’s shoulder to hide his desperate expression.  She continues to whimper into his skin, smudging kiss after kiss on his marked neck as if she knows how badly he needs it.  Even as her orgasm begins to rise in her belly, consuming her every thought, she continues to suck bruises onto his jugular, dragging her tongue over his cool skin repeatedly after every action.  Although the iron still stings, the sensation of Y/N’s textured tongue swiping over it turns the pain to pleasure, and it’s not long before Harry has himself centered once again, refocused on the task at hand. 

He speeds up the movement of his fingers, focusing on curling them inside her as his thumb rubs quick circles over her throbbing clit.  The sounds bouncing around the room are so lewd that Harry almost wishes someone would walk in, even if only to see how good Harry is capable of making his lover feel. 

“Y’can cum for me, baby.  Cum all over my hand.” He mutters in her ear, his teeth scraping against her fragile skin in desperation. “I know you have it in you.  Show me how good you are.”

Y/N feverishly grinds against his hand, all of her senses overwhelmed by the immortal as she licks across his neck. “So—so close, Harry—I—”

“I know, I know you are.” The vampire soothes her in a tone more gentle than he thought possible, palming her soaking cunt with as much pressure as he thinks she can stand. “Let go for me.  I’ve got you.”

The reassurance is the final thing Y/N needs to fall apart, and once she knows that she can, it happens with an intensity that shocks even her.  When the coil inside her belly snaps, a guttural moan tears from her mouth, and she grasps the pole in front of her as tightly as she can while collapsing back into Harry’s chest. 

“Fuck, there we go, yeah? Shhh, keep it down for me, angel. Don’t wanna have to stop until you beg me to.” 

Her grip on the ladder does nothing to support her, but as Harry’s hushed words ring in her mind, she knows she doesn’t have to worry about that.  Harry’s arms and chest are strong enough to do it for her, allowing her to sink into her pleasure as much as she needs to. 

When Y/N slumps in his arms, her neck finally shifts enough that her cross falls back into its designated position between her collarbones, providing Harry with relief from the scorching pain he’d been beginning to adjust to.  He can feel his skin begin to heal itself the moment the iron leaves it, and with that small fear tamped down, the creature can turn all his attention to the girl in his arms. 

He slowly and carefully retracts his hand from her panties, shushing the weak squeak that rolls from her lips at the motion. “Good girl.” He mumbles into her ear, kissing her temple softly as her breathing begins to regulate itself. “Shh, you’re alright.  Y’did so well for me, darling.”

The comforting praise comes easily to him, and as he continues to hold Y/N as she regains her previous headspace, Harry begins to wonder just how far he’d be able to push her before she reaches her limits.  How far into subspace can she go before she hits the point of no return?  Could Harry successfully guide her there and lead her back?  Could she ever trust him enough to submit fully to his every request, taking solace in the knowledge that he can take care of her as well as— or better, even— she can take care of herself?  Harry wants to think yes, but he can’t dwell on the idea any longer; Y/N’s beginning to shift against him again, and he’ll never be able to earn that wholehearted trust if he doesn’t tend to her now. 

Lifting his hand to his own lips, Harry wraps his tongue around his drenched fingers, lapping at the sweet wetness that coats them down to his rings.  He hums in appreciation, stippling another tender kiss to Y/N’s neck when he retracts his fingers from his mouth. 

“Taste so sweet, y’know that?” He whispers, the question half a test to see how aware Y/N is as her head begins to clear. “C’mere, I want you to taste.”

Y/N lazily tilts her head to the side, a small smile playing on her lips as they meet Harry’s for a slow kiss.  Trailing his fingers down her side, Harry skillfully buttons the side of her overalls again, adjusting the fabric to lie comfortable against her skin.

“How are you feeling, hm?” He murmurs, rubbing his large hand soothingly over her belly as her breathing begins to regulate again. “How was that?”

“I feel…” Y/N struggles to make sense of her swimming head, resting it against Harry’s shoulder as she tries to form a coherent response. “Good.”

Harry sighs with relief, smearing a quick kiss to her cheek as he grins. “Good.  That’s good.” 

With his right hand still wrapped around her middle, he carefully lowers himself and Y/N from the ladder, keeping a tight grip on the girl until he knows her feet are planted firmly on the ground. 

As the afterglow of her climax begins to fade, a heated flush begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine to settle on the apples of her cheeks. “I, um—” The corners of her lips tug upwards with a bashful tone, and she twists around in Harry’s arms to shyly meet his canopy green eyes. “I can’t believe I did that.” 

“You didn’t do anything.  It takes two to tango, pet.  And, honestly…” Harry flashes a boyish simper at her as he yanks her closer to him by her hips. “I think I did most of the work.” 

“That’s true.” A breathless laugh stutters from Y/N’s chest as she curls her hands around Harry’s bulging biceps, steadying herself from the after effects of her orgasm, which are turning her legs to jelly. “I could, um…” She flicks her eyes from the door to the prominent bulge in Harry’s black slacks before capturing his gaze in hers again. “Return the favour?”

Harry snorts as he gives a quick shake of his head, his teeth catching on his bottom lip while he runs his hands down the back of her rumpled shirt. “Not here, baby.  How about we wait until we’re back at my place for you to show me how my sweet girl sucks cock, hm?”

“So it’s alright for you to distract me from my book search to finger me in a public area,” Y/N fakes indignation to distract herself from the ache that’s starting to pulse in her core again at Harry’s proposal. “But the moment I want to suck you off, you say ‘not here’?  What kind of double standard is that?”

Lips twitching in amusement, Harry stifles a laugh as he turns the girl in his arms, pressing her back to his chest once again before wrapping his arms back around her waist. “You’re right.  I distracted you from your book search. How rude of me.” He coos, nodding up to the shelf as he grazes his teeth against her pulse. “Think I see a pretty copy of Sense and Sensibility up there.  Y’think you can reach it, or do you need me to do it, sweetheart?” 

The shuddering of Y/N’s heartbeat contrasts with her heated reply. “I can reach it just fine if you behave yourself.” She shoots back, smacking the hand that’s beginning to wander towards her center again. “Or is that too difficult for you?” 

“It’s extremely difficult when I’m near you.” The reply, while truthful, sends a quiver down Harry’s spine, and he presses a chaste kiss to the human girl’s shoulder before releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll get the book.”

Y/N tugs the hair tie from her locks, shaking them out before pulling them back again in a neat manner. “You know, I never thought I was one for antiquing, but today was fun.” 

“Well, it doesn’t usually involve getting finger-fucked on a ladder,” Harry states bluntly, glancing over his shoulder with a dimpled smile on his face. “So I’m not really sure if today can be the marker for an average antiquing session.”

Y/N’s face boils at the brazen comment, and she tucks a strand of loose hair that she’d missed behind her ear as she swallows hard. “No.” She replies with a soft and timid laugh, shaking her head gently. “I suppose that’s true.” 

Harry hums in reply as he snags the old copy of the Jane Austen novel from the top shelf, climbing down the ladder effortlessly and landing back on the ground with a soft thud. “But I’m glad you had fun.” Harry steps towards Y/N with a satisfied air, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger as a teasing smile plays on his ruby lips. “And I’m even more glad we found a replacement for that terrible tapestry of yours.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she smacks Harry’s hand from her chin before snatching the novel from his hands. “Stop being mean to Amanda!  You’ll hurt her feelings.”

A snort boasts from Harry’s throat as he recalls the day she had told him what she’d named the piece hanging from her wall, and he bends down to scoop up the Monet print while shaking his head impassively, clutching it in one hand as he snakes the other around Y/N’s waist once again. “Well, I hope Amanda doesn’t have feelings, because I’m going to burn her.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not, because I’m going to hang her over your bed, just so you can stare at her while you fall asleep each night.” 

Harry groans loudly as he guides his lover from the music room and back to the open space of the antique mall. “Please.  If anything is going over my bed, it’s a mirror, not a college freshman’s poor excuse of an attempt at interior design.” 

Y/N wrinkles her nose at the comment, shaking her head at the crude suggestion. “A mirror?  That better be a joke.”

“It was, but now that I’m thinking about it…”

“You’re disgustingly conceited.” 

“Oh please, you lo—” Harry catches himself just before the word love rolls off his lips.  Though he’s said it before when referring to certain aspects of their sex life (like how he loves the way her mouth feels, or how she loves the way he stretches her out), it just seems oddly repulsive to say at this very moment. Too intimate, almost.

Therefore, the creature bites back the offensive phrase and tugs her closer by the waist, covering up his sudden hesitation with his signature smirk. “You like that idea, don’t you, dove?”

Y/N keeps her face neutral as they pass by an older couple examining a grandfather clock. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sure you don’t.” Harry laughs sharply, nuzzling his face into the top of Y/N’s hair and pressing a casual kiss to the crown of her head. “Need I remind you that your request for my interior design skills is what started this whole thing?”

“And if you had suggested I mount a mirror over my bed, this whole thing would’ve been over before it even had a chance to start.”

“You say that now, but if you were to see the way my cock looks while it slams into your—”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, blood rushing to her cheeks as he guides her around a corner stacked with porcelain dolls. 

“Fine. No mirror.” Harry relents, a disappointed sigh falling from his lips as he palms Y/N’s waist closer to himself. “But the tapestry needs to be burned.”

“No.”

“Thrown away.”

“No.”

“Folded up and tucked under the bed?”

“Possibly.  And that’s as good an ending as you’ll get.” 

That night, after Harry has satisfied his craving for both Y/N and the sweet liquid that pumps through her veins, and has settled in for his usual nightly routine of rhythmically caressing her back to lull her into a deep slumber, and as he counts the breaths the mortal sighs between nightfall and sunrise while her soft snoring sings a lullaby to his ears, he can’t help but think that…

That yes, this really is as good an ending as he’ll ever get. 

[alltimesos]

Alexa, play Fine Line by Harry Styles

[ssa-sapphic]

it’s a “stare at the ceiling and listen to soft music” kind of day

[ageofevermore]

thanks for the tag @jellyfishbeansontoast

→ nickname: oaks

→ zodiac: capricorn

→ height: 4′11

→ hogwarts house: hufflepuff (and occasionally slytherin)

→ last thing i googled: tom holland covid 

→ song stuck in my head: music is currently playing, so do you hear what i hear 

→ number of followers: 1,062

→ amount of sleep: 7

→ lucky number: 2

→ dream job: actor 

→ wearing: a friends crop top and friends shorts

→ favorite author: kasie west 

→ favorite instrument: guitar 

→ aesthetic: neutral aesthetic? 

→ favorite song: fine line by harry styles 

→ favorite animal noise: puppy barks stfu 

→ random: i just redid my entire homescreen so that it was harry instead of christmas

→ tagging: @teen--marvel @r0s3mm @x-lulu @stiles-o-dylan24 @geminiparkers @mischiefandi @deionswannabegirl @r0s3mm @dmonchld @alexa-playafricabytoto @chloesapogue @killingbxys @https-luna @pink-meringues @demxters 

[purplekiwis]

From the Dining Table - Chapter III

Chapter III is here! It’s supposed to be the final chapter, but I’m still feeling kinda icky about the writing in this chapter and the ending, if any of you would like me to keep working on this story please let me know, I’m always happy to get any type of feedback from you. Lots of love to all of you ❤️ Check out the previous chapters: Chapter I | Chapter II Word Count: 6K Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Sexual References Summary: Friends to Lovers; Y/N is a graphic designer working at a small studio in London. She lives a pretty ordinary life, considering she also happens to be friends with an internationally known musician. Which is fine... Until she finds herself having to face the feelings she developed for her friend, who's the last person she expected to fall in love with.

Chapter III - The Comedown

You ended up deciding that the best thing to do would be to call the police and inform them on what had truly happened. Leaving Harry and the band out of it, and pretending like they really hadn’t been there for the whole time the fuss had went down.

Even though Alexa threw a tantrum about it, you could tell she appreciated the fact that she had people there to support her. Besides, deep down, she knew there was no way she would’ve been allowed back there had you told the story she wanted to go for: That she’d had a creative meltdown that resulted in her trashing the studio out of frustration. It sounds quite odd, but the truth is that that version of events would most likely be believable to anyone who happened to be aware of Alexa’s most temperamental side... Although despite being very on brand for her, the tormented artist argument certainly wouldn’t have pleased her fans, nor the management, and much less the studio owners.

The rest of the week went by in the blink of an eye. Next thing you knew it was already Saturday again and you were getting ready for Alexa’s party. Yes, she decided to go through with it regardless of the start of the week’s unfortunate event. She kept it small though, inviting only her closest friends, that made for a considerably small group compared to the usual hundreds of guests that attended her parties.

Y/N put in an extra effort in her outfit that time. Deciding to wear a black floral chiffon dress with sheer details, paired with a pair of plum colored booties, that matched perfectly the shades of the flowers in your dress and the matte lipstick you were wearing. She ended up being one of the first guests to arrive to the house...Not because she wanted to be early, but because Alexa called and begged Y/N to come help her put up some decorations before the party started, since you were used to doing that artsy shit, as she put it. “Damn girl, where’s the rest of the band?” The girl playfully asked as soon as she layed eyes on you.

“What do you mean?” You chuckled at her question. “They won’t be here for a while... You asked me to come early, remember? For the lights...”

“No, I’m not talking about Sarah’s. You know that 70’s band Pussycat? You totally got that vibe going on.” She signaled your dress by drawing a circle in the air with her finger. “Like, a similar sort of indie, effortlessly cool, carefree style.”

“Effortless? Carefree?!” “Not in a sloppy way! In a I don’t even have to try to look this pretty way.”

“Fine, I’ll take it. You look gorgeous. I love that hair on you.” “Thank you, I try…” She shrugged, making a little spin and staring at you from over her shoulder. “Hey, you know who I think will really like your outfit? Your big fat crush.” “Oh, shut it.”

Alexa was right though. Because the first thing Harry did when he arrived was compliment you on your outfit. He was wearing a two piece black suit and LV boots, looking just as amazing as he always did. It got quite annoying, really.

Unlike it happened last time, you were feeling totally relaxed at the party. Maybe it was partly because you were already running with a couple drinks in your system, but mostly, Y/N was pretty sure... was because Harry was in a very chill mood that night, what meant she didn’t have to keep checking on him all the time, since he had been sitting next to her on the couch from the moment he had gotten to Alexa’s. The lot of you had been playing a made-up charades drinking game, because well, let’s face it, there aren't many other games you can play at a party with blasting music on the background... Unless we’re talking beer pong, but that’s just a little too corny for people who are far from being pissed out drunk at university.

Now, the issue with drinking games is that most times, you don’t really notice how drunk you’re getting until it’s already too late to do anything about it... And well… that may have happened to you. All you knew was that one minute you were sitting down, completely sober.... and the next you were losing your mind over the start of Let’s Dance by David Bowie. Luckily Harry was there to share your exhilaration, by grabbing your hand and dragging you to dance with him. At first you were just twirling around and singing your heart out, but when the line “Let’s sway” came in, Harry pulled you into crashing against his chest and jokingly swayed with you around the room that, for unknown reasons, was starting to feel a little too small for your ambitious dance moves. So you kept going down the hallway, somehow making your way into the dining room.

Your giggles were so loud that you could barely make up the music anymore. All you could pay attention to were Harry’s eyes, and how they seemed to swirl you away from reality and into a unknown green paradise where it was only you and him. You couldn’t tell, due to your drunken state but you were fully spacing out inside your head. Allowing for your body move for itself, and for your mind to run wild. When you came back from it, you realized you were no longer swaying... Just hugging and swinging your body to a song by Bread in the middle of Alexa’s empty dining room.

Harry had his hands carefully placed on your hips, your head was buried in his soft chest. You had no idea how long you had been doing this for, but you were enjoying it too much to stop, and apparently so was he.

You only parted your body away from his when the situation became too absurd not to be awkward, in other words, when you cought onto the fact you had been slow dancing to You Spin Me Round, without realizing it. When he felt you pulling away, he gently grabbed your hand and made you do a little spin for him, before letting go of you. “I’m so fucking drunk right now.” You chuckled, burying your face back in his neck.

“Yeah, I know.” You walked towards one of the room’s windows and opened it, leaning your body against the balcony way too confidently for a drunk person, making Harry rush to you and grab your hand to pull you back. “Don’t worry silly, I’m not going to fall.”

“I’m not risking it.” Harry pressed, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer. His bottom leaned against the dining table, and yours leaned into his lap, not quite sitting in it, just stuck between his arms and legs.

“How could I fall again when I’ve already been falling for so long?” “What did you just say?” He asked, holding you tighter in a playful way.

“Nothing, just forget it.” “You said you’ve been falling? Who’ve you been falling for missy?”

You stared at your feet, playing with the heel of your boot on your toecap to avoid his curious gaze. “No one…”

“Well, I think I know.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, staring at your bashful face with his longing eyes. “I told you I’d figure out your little mystery...”

“Who is it then?” “It’s Alexa, isn’t it?” “What? No! Why would you think that?” You drunkenly scorned, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Let’s see... You coming to her party and vanishing in the middle of the night was super odd… and well, I pulled some strings and found out that apparently, so did she. So, naturally I got suspicious that you two spent the night together. Then, she came and asked me for your number. Adding that to the fact  that you became like great friends from one day to the next, when I know that you used to despise her, it made it pretty clear that there was something fishy going on. Oh! Not to mention the way you jumped to save her from that dickhead. That was some real gay novel shit by the way.” He laughed. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sure that you two have, at least, a little fling going on.” “Nice try, but you’re... so wrong.” “No way! At least some part of it has to be right…” “It’s not, actually… It couldn’t be further from the truth.” “Right, who is it then?” “You can try to guess, it’s really not that hard…” “Do I know them?” “Yeah…” “But do I know-know them, or just know them?” “You know them very well…” “Is it Sarah?” “No.” “Is it Claire?” “No.” “Is it...” “It’s not a girl.” “Oh, okay… I did not see that one coming.” He scratched the back of his head. “That puts things in a different perspective... So, is it like a boy or is it someone with a different gender?”

“It’s a boy.” “Is he handsome?” “Hmm.. I guess? I would say so, yeah.” “I’m gonna take that as a somewhat… You don’t sound very convinced.” “I mean, if you say so…” You couldn’t help but to laugh at his reasoning. God, is he really that oblivious to the fact that it’s him?

“Is it that guy from your work? I don’t remember his name…”  

“Whoever you’re thinking of, it’s not him.” “So you didn’t meet him at work?” 

“Hm... I guess I kind of did, yeah.” “Is it Mitch?” 

What does Mitch have to do with my work anyway? “No.” “Is it John?”

“Are you serious?” “What? I’m trying… Is it your boss?” “Oh, for fuck’s sake Harry!” In a random act of courage, perhaps even desperation, you jumped off his lap and turned around to face him. Pushing back all the second thoughts, you cupped his face with both your hands and pushed your lips onto his.

He didn’t react at first and you felt his body tensen up. As you were about to pull away and get ready to run, he gave into the kiss, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb as your lips and tongues danced together.

You could feel the blood running wild inside your veins as the kisses became tougher and the mood got steamier. His hands now dived into the folds of your dress, pulling you closer onto his lap. You felt the grip of his hands on your bum as he turned you around so you were the one sitting on the table. His hands moved up and down your thighs, dragging the fabric of your dress along, until it rested on your hips, as he inserted his body in between your legs.

Your hands were all over him, and his were all over you.

You could feel the thrill of it all over you, but the pulsation was definitely predominant and harder to bear in your core, and you could tell he felt the same way when he unwittingly began grinding his hips against edge of the table, desperate for any type of friction he could get.

You grabbed him by the waist and pulled him closer to where your body craved him the most, simultaniously pushing yourself further off the table, to facilitate the access. “Y/N... we shouldn’t. We can’t.” The boy mumbled, eyes closed and body still glued to yours.

You chose to ignore his apprehension, placing kisses on his jawline and down to his neck to keep him going and assure him that you were fine with whatever it was that you were doing, and you could feel him begin to melt into them. “Stop.” He spoke in a harsher tone, talking more to himself than to you as he pushed himself away. “This is wrong.”

“Was it something I did?” “No, it’s not you! It’s just… We’re gonna regret this tomorrow.”

“I won’t”

“Y/N… You’re drunk.”

“I would want this just as much if I was sober.”

“Don’t say that.”

You fell into a silence, but unlike it usually happened between you, the silence was far from confortable, it was deafening. “I’m guessing you don’t feel the same…”

“I...I don’t know…” “It would be easier if you just said you don’t, I can take it.” “Yeah, um... This is…fuck, I don’t know what to say. I never thought about you like that before, we’ve always just been friends.”

“I know, but... You’re right. This was stupid.” You mumbled. You got up in a jump and fixed your dress, trying your hardest to fight back the tears that threatned to escape, you turned your back to him and began walking towards the door. “Where are you going?” He asked.

“Home, Harry.” “But... Seriously? You’re just going to run away?!” “No, I just… I don’t think I can do this right now.” “I’m sorry, you’re right... I get it. It’s a lot and... I’ll come by your house tomorrow so we can talk better, alright?” “I don’t  think that will be necessary. Actually, can we just forget that this ever happened?” “Y/N, it’s okay that you can’t do it right now... but we need to talk.” “It’s fine, Harry. I don’t know what came over me, just let it go.” You felt a tear rolling down your cheek and wiped it away, but you were not quick enough for him not to notice it.

“Hey, hey, hey… Look at me. Please don’t cry.“ He rushed to you, but you held out your hand to urge him to stop. “It’s fine.”

“No it’s not…” “Just forget it, okay? This was stupid, I was stupid.” “Don’t say that.” “It’s true Harry, this was… fuck.” – You attempted to wipe the tears away, but they just kept on coming and you could barely talk anymore due to the clog you felt on your throat.

“I’m so sorry… I never meant to hurt you.” You turned your back to him and ran out of the dining room, stopping past the living room to quickly grab your belongings. You briefly looked towards the sofa where your friends were and met Alexa’s expectant gaze, her facial expression encouraged you to come over, but you just shook your head disappointedly. She deduced what the reason behind your sadness was and got up form the sofa to come comfort you. A pityful frown was drawn on her tinted lips.

You heard Harry’s voice calling your name from the hallway and impulsively ran out the front door, leaving both of them behind on the porch screaming for you to come back, but you didn’t.

You knew it was stupid and irresponsible to drive while you were drunk, but you just couldn’t care, you were too overwhelmed to give a damn about anything other than the devastating feelings you felt over your entire body.

Sadness, hopelessness, shame, pain.  

And god, you hated him.

You hated him for being so gentle, so kind, so polite.

You wished he would’ve taken advantage of you while you were drunk, you wished he would’ve laughed in your face or made you feel stupid, because that would’ve given you a reason to never want to talk to him again. But he didn’t, if anything he’d just given you a reason to love him more.

And it was agonizing... To think about his kisses, because you knew you’d never taste them again.

To hear him say he was sorry for hurting you, because you knew he meant it.

To know he was perfect, because you knew he would never be yours.

After that night, he tried to contact you multiple times, through texts, calls, voicemails… but you never answered. You never meant to avoid him, but you just didn’t have the strenght in you to finish the conversation that unnevitably was going to leave you even more heartbroken.

Days of silence turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, somewhere in the middle he stopped trying to reach you, and you didn’t blame him for it. What was he supposed to do anyway?

Sometimes you would ask Alexa about him, to make sure he was okay. Apparently he was doing great, his first solo album was about to come out and he already had a world tour planned for the next year.

Sometimes you wanted to call and tell him you still loved him and that were proud of him. But how could you?    So you didn’t, and you didn’t show up at his launch party, even though you still got an invitation for it in your e-mail. How come he still wanted you there after what you’d done to him?

Even though you weren’t there to celebrate with him, you got the album on the day it came out. You bought the physical one, so you could see pictures of him as you listened. You must’ve really hate yourself to think that was a good idea, but you weren’t going to waste an opportunity to look at pictures of him without feeling guilty...

The day you picked up the album was actually a work day, what resulted in you listening to the CD while at work, because you were too impatient to wait to get home. You decided you would save the pictures for later though, for when you could suffer and beat yourself up in peace inside the four walls of your bedroom.

From the moment you started playing it, you were over the moon with it. You’d always known how talented he was, but the music was unbelievably good and even though you’d gotten to listen to some snippets that he showed you, nothing could describe the feeling you felt when listening to it all come together in the most amazing way possible.  

While you inspected the copy in your hands, your eyes froze on the title of the last track - “From the Dining Table”. It was an odd song title and you didn’t remember him ever playing you that song. It also reminded you of the moment you shared at Alexa’s house and your stomach flipped, causing you to shrunk in your chair. You tried to push the thought to the back of your mind but it kept wondering... What if he really wrote about that?

You knew it was a long shot and that it obviously hadn’t been that big of a deal for him, at least not to the point where he would write a song about it, but your heart was pumping and your mind was racing to the thought that maybe, just maybe... Well, there’s only one way to find out. You skipped to the last song.

“Woke up alone in this hotel room, Played with myself, where were you? Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon I’ve never felt less cool.”

To the sound of his lyrics, your heart was filled by disappointment. Even though you told yourself you were already setting up to get your expectations crushed, apparently you were still naive enough to think that it could be about you. “We haven’t spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won’t you ever be the first one to break? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”

Okay, but that could be about anyone else…

“I saw your friend that you know from work He said you feel just fine I see you gave him my old t-shirt More of what was once mine I see it’s written, it’s all over his face Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won’t you ever say what you wanna say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”

You dropped the album cover out of shock as the memories came flying by.

A few weeks prior you had found out that your co-worker Alfie had the same shirt Harry gifted you because you’d seen him wearing it around the studio one time. You also remembered that not long after the party, Alfie had been bragging about running into Y/N’s famous friend, as he called him, in the grocery store and how he had complimented his shirt... But you didn’t think much of it, guessing that it was just Harry trying to make small conversation. Somehow you never put two and two together, until now.      “Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too, But you, you never do”  

You couldn’t argue with that. He was right in his words.          

“Woke up the girl who looked just like you I almost said your name We haven’t spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won’t you ever say what you want to say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”

During the time period you were apart, it never crossed your mind that he might be hurting as well. You just assumed that he was doing fine and that your absence didn’t bother him, and yet apparently, he missed you. He missed you enough to write a song about you and put it in his album.        

You wished you could turn back time and give him a chance to speak his mind about what had happened. You wished you’d stayed when he called you from the hallway instead of running away like you always did when things got complicated.

You didn’t even realize that you were crying until someone tapped you in the shoulder to ask if you were okay. “Actually, no. I think I made a huge mistake.” You pulled off your earphones and shut yout laptop. “I need to go get some air... If Charles asks for me, just tell him I went outside for a call.” You told your coworker, before pushing yourself off your chair and heading towards the door. 

You had been pacing around on the sidewalk for the past five minutes with your eyes stuck to your phone, ocasionally bumping onto passengers on the street. Some of them scoffed when you didn’t make a move to dodge them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to even apologize.

Your whole body felt numb other than the tight knot you felt on your stomach, begging to be released.

Without giving it a second thought, you went through your contacts and pressed Harry’s number. You had no idea about what you were about to say to him, all you knew was that you needed to listen to his voice. You needed to talk to him, even if that meant that you were going to have to face your biggest fear. “Hello.” His voice came out apprehensive... As if he was wondering if you’d accidently called the wrong number. It made your heart clench. How did you ever let it get to this point?

“I did not give him your shirt, you moron!” “Uh… Okay?” He seemed confused by the way you had decided to start this conversation, and honestly, so were you. “I’m guessing you listened to my song…?” “Yes I did!” “Well, what did you think?” “ I’m so proud of you! Your album is amazing, and... I’m so sorry I didn’t go to your party, I- also I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry! I was childish and stupid and...”

“Wow, wow, wow… Slow down.” “I’m sorry.” You apologized again. “You probably don’t even want to be talking to me right now...” “I do.” “You do?” “If I didn’t I wouldn’t have picked up the call, don’t you think?” “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” “But hmm... before anything else, I hope you’re aware that there’s a pending conversation that we still need to have...” “Yeah, I know…” “Where are you right now?” “I’m at work.” “You’re calling me from work?” “No, I’m outside, I dodged so I could call you.”   “Oh, I must be really important then..” You rolled your eyes a little at the provocation, even though he wasn’t there see you. “Do you want to meet after work? So we can talk properly? I don’t like to have serious conversations on the phone, besides, I don’t want you to get in trouble at work because of me...Again.” “Well, at least we’re not stealing anything this time, right? Where do you wanna meet?” “Hmm… Do you wanna come by the studio after work?” “What are you doing at the studio? You just released an album, you should be at home! ...Sleeping, celebrating, fucking someone... I don’t know, living life!” He laughed a bit at the question. “I guess I’m so used to being here all the time that my body naturally just started to assume that this is where I live now.”

“Have I ever told you how much of an unbelievably peculiar person you are?” The studio wasn’t too far from work to you. So you figured you would be best just walking there. Part of you was nervous, but the relief that you felt in knowing that you were going to see Harry again, turned the prospect of having this overdue conversation into something mildly pleasant. You were expecting Harry to have company with him, so you were surprised when you got to the door and noticed he was alone. Immersed in his notebook while playing cords in his guitar. Y/N stalled herself for a minute by the door, taking a moment to admire him. He looked so beautiful and fascinating when he was focused on his work that it effortlessly triggered your heart into pumping harder on your chest. How come someone so pure could make you hurt so bad?

He stopped whatever song he was playing for a second, bending down over his stomach a little to check the notebook perched on the table, and you took the chance to knock on the door. Carefully opening it with a soft smile painted on your lips.

“Oh! Hey you...” He greeted when his eyes recognized the face peeking at him. His lips were smiling, but you could tell he was reluctant about getting up to come greet you with a hug like he always did, so you just made the first move, walking over and squeezing him in your arms.

You felt his body relax under your hold. The realization that he didn’t mind your affection made your lips part into a relieved sigh. Both of you longed for the hug for a little longer than usual, in a silent way of letting eachother know that, no matter what had happened prior, everything was going to be alright.

He sat down and you followed, sitting on the other end of the couch. You began catching up with eachother, talking mostly about Harry’s album and having meaningless conversations. You could feel the tension in the air, and you knew he felt it too, since both of you had, not so discretly, been avoiding letting the silence settle in, but there was only so much you could talk about, and eventually you fell into an heavy silence.

Just as you were about to adress the subject that you had so desperately been trying to avoid, he spoke. “Do you wanna come see the new rooftop? It’s really nice up there.”

You nodded, not knowing if he was attempting to delay the awkward natured conversation or if he was genuinly that eager to show you the furniture they had up there. Either way, you didn’t mind the change in the scenario, and you definitely appreaciated the feel of the wind in your face, aliviating the feeling of heavyness you felt inside the room. “It really does look nice up here.” You observed as you took a look around yourself, finding comfort in the background noise of the never ending traffic happening just a couple of meters below.

“Be careful where you step though, don’t want you slipping on my vomit.”

“That was ages ago! I’m sure it’s all gone by now...”

“Yeah, you’re right… time does fly, doesn’t it?” He sat in one of the plastic chairs near the edge of the building. You answered with a nod and remained standing, taking in the view of the sun setting in the horizon. “Come here for a second.” The boy asked, pulling one of the plastic chairs from the table, so you could sit next to him.

“Oh boy... This is it, isn’t it? Serious conversation time?” You tried to lighten the sudden serious atmosphere by poking fun of it, sitting down and patting at your own knee with your finger, to avoid looking directly at the boy sitting beside you.

“I think so... Unless you’re about to run from me again.” Harry darted back, but his tone remained calm, with a light playfulness to it even.

“I won’t.” “Good.” He assented with a nod. “So... How ‘ave you been feeling?” “I’m okay... ‘Could be worse. You?” “I mean, career wise and stuff, it’s been great. Can’t complain. But uh... In other matters, ’ve been kinda miserable since that day, you know?” “Because of what we did?” “That’s part of it, yeah. But also...” You interrupted before you could finish. “I ruined our friendship didn’t I? God... It was so stupid, I’m sorry.” “No, it’s not like that at all... And it wasn’t stupid.” He took a big breath before daring to speak again. “I liked it, actually.” You lifted your eyes to look at him, only to realize that now it was him who was staring at his own feet. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah...” Harry squinted his eyes and looked at you with a smirk.  “I don’t know what kind of spell you put on me, but it worked... Got me fucked, absolutely fucked.”

“I didn’t do anything eerie, I swear.” “Are you sure? You sounded a bit guilty there.” “I can't even make a decent soup... You really think I could muster making a love potion to give you that didn't come out completely the other way around? I’m flattered, but no.” Both of you allowed for the humorous notes to linger in the air for a while, whilst you prepared to ask the next question. “Do you regret that it happened?” “No, I don’t.” Harry replied easily. “I regret that I let you get away after, though.” “I also regret going away...” “When I called you from the hallway, I was going to ask you to stay...” “You were?” “Yeah,” He laughed at your surprised state. “But going back now, I think that it was a good thing that we had time to think about stuff... Maybe if you’d stayed we’d end up rushing into things.” “I still think it was unfair what I did to you. I was a coward, I didn’t want to deal with the consequences of my own actions, so I ran and left you to deal with it all alone... When the problem wasn’t even yours in the first place.” “It’s fine... seriously.” He took the opportunity to hold your hand in between his, caressing the back of it with his thumbs. “What matters most is that you’re here now, and trying to fix it.”  You placed your other hand on top of his, just so you could caress his skin as well. He gave you a smile, not making a single move to pull away from the intimate moment. “So you’re not mad at me?”

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed at you.” “I don’t blame you, I would too if I was you.” “No you wouldn’t. You’re a softie, you don’t know how to get angry at people.” “I hate that you know that. Can never keep anything from you, can I?” “I think you can. I didn’t know you liked boys, for example...” “I don’t. Usually...” Your first reply came out as quick as a flash. “Guess you’re that special, huh?” “Careful, there. Might get big-headed...” You smiled a little at his words. “So… that means you still feel the same, you know, about me?”

“Yeah, I- I guess I do.” Your answer came out shy, almost like a spoken exhale. “What about you?” You shifted the direction of the conversation before the unavoidable feeling of pity you were expecting could take over Harry’s features. “Have you been seeing someone?” “Hmm… I don’t think it’s a good idea to discuss my love life with you now...” “We’re still friends Harry. We can talk about it, just leave out the gory details.” “So... there’s this girl…” He eased in slowly. “She’s a bit of a nightmare, if I’m honest... But at the same time, she’s also one of the best people I’ve ever known, you know? And I think I really like her... But there’s a part of me that’s scared of taking the next step and asking her out because, well... It’s a little complicated.” “How does she feel about you?” “That’s the thing, I don’t know. I’m assuming she likes me because of the way she acts with me, but she never really uses her words, so...” “So you guys have been sort of dating, is that it...?” “No, it was just a one time thing. I was planning on asking her out, but I never got to do it after all...” “I think you should. There’s only one way to find out if she likes you or not. Take your chance while you can... Don’t be like me, you know?” “You know what? You’re right. I think I’m gonna do it.” He said, getting up from his seat in a jump and grabbing the phone in his pocket.

“Oh. You’re gonna do it right now?” “I was. Do you mind it? I can always do it later…”

“No, no. It’s fine, go ahead. The sooner the better, I suppose.” At that, he walked away from you... And you thanked God beause you felt like you were about to combust under your clothes at how insensitive he was being! Couldn’t he sense that you were dying on the inside? You knew he didn’t mean to make you feel like shit... He was just being casual spontaneous Harry but fuck, it was too soon for this crap!

Harry was pacing around the rooftop while looking through his contacts, making sure to keep a large distance between the both of you, just so you couldn’t listen to his conversation. He took the device to his ear, sparing you a curious look as he did so. When he noticed your eyebrows raising inquisitively, he just grinned and flashed you his thumb. You were trying to figure out the meaning behind the gesture, when you felt your phone start to vibrate inside your pocket, shaking your head when you saw the name displayed on the screen. You chose to pick up the call, trying to poke fun at him. “Wrong number!” You said, expecting nothing but for him to tilt his head back with a smile from his side of the roof before pressing decline and searching for the right contact.

“Sorry, what was that?” “You’re calling me, idiot. Y/N, the one who’s right behind you.” “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to call you for a bit...” “What are you on ab-?” You still managed to question before realization finally kicked in. “Oh.” You exclaimed, still a little flabbergasted. “Was that about me? Am I... her?” “Yeah, look... Like I was saying, I’ve been meaning to call ‘cause I wanted to ask if you would you like to go out on a date sometime...” “Couldn’t you just invite me like a normal fucking person?” “I could... but where’s the fun in that?” He asked back, sparing you a brief look as he walked from side to side across the roof’s open space. Still a little far from where you were sat. “So, what do you say?” “Yes, I would like to go out with you.” “She said yes!” He shouted at the sky, before dropping to his knees in a theatrical way whilst fisting the air in celebration.

“You’re an exhibitionist prick.” “Am I? I thought you liked it.” He asked, finally turning his attention to you and giving you a cocky stare.

“Just come over here and kiss me already.” You concluded, hanging up the call at last, knowing he would come walking over as soon as you did. Almost exactly as you had forecasted, you watched your friend stuff his phone back in his pocket and pacing back towards the chairs with a stupid grin on his face before he bent down over his knees right in front of you.

“Hi.” He smiled. “Hi.” You brushed your noses together, trying to hide the silly smile painted on your face but failing miserably.

Harry leaned in at the gesture, placing a light peck over your lips before pulling away. He kept his nose and lips brushing softly into yours. The push and pull game was driving you mad... Even though you knew he was doing it to tease you on purpose, your eagerness made it impossible for you to resist going after what you wanted. You caved in, pulling him by the collar for a proper kiss. But before you could close the short distance, Harry got up and pulled you up from the chair by your waist, so that you were both standing.

He kissed you, then. Soft and slow at first… but it wasn’t long until the desire took over the both of you and you found yourselves rushing down the stairs back to the studio, making out against practically every wall you came across in the process.

You couldn’t put together when exactly one of you had decided to go back downstairs, let alone which one of you was the leader or follower, but the harshness in the way you were pressing against each other made it clear that both of you had the same thing on your mind.

Between the groping and the wet kisses you lost track of where you were going, only realizing you were back on the place you had started when you felt your back press up against the door knob of the studio’s rented room. You reached behind and opened it, allowing Harry to lock the door and lead your body to where he wanted it. He turned both of you around and sat on the sofa, pulling you by the back so that you sat on his lap.

Almost unconsciously, you began grinding your hips against his thigh, feeling his body begin to stiffen under you. His warm hands slid from the small of your back down to your bottom, caressing your ass over your jeans before giving a sudden tug to pull you closer, so you were positioned right atop of his lenght, causing you to squirm a little.

Your lips began to wonder down his jaw then, placing gente kisses and sucks until you noticed his sped up heatbeat over the larger vein of his neck. The way his breathing was starting to sound all hot and heavy only led you on more... As you grinded your hips again his, now clearly visible, bump.  Harry hissed at the contact, curling his fingers around your hips and tugging to keep you rubbing on him for a while. But it wasn’t enough. He could tell you needed more, judging by the small gasps and hums you were letting out for him, and he was more than happy to keep prodding them on. “Wanna take care of you.” The boy confeesed, moving his hands from your back to your front, and wasting no time before undoing the button and the zipper of your dark colored jeans. “Will you let me?” “Yes, I want you to...” You admitted. “but...”  “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” He guessed.

“A little…yeah.” You buried your face in his neck to hide your embarassment.

“It’s okay love, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” He cupped your face, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I know, it’s just…” “Is it because of my…” He looks down at his own lap. “You know.“

“No, Harry, I’m not scared of your dick if that’s what you’re thinking...” “What is it then?” “I’ve never, you know… did it with a guy before.” “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? We don’t even have to do anything at all.” “But I want to. It’s just, what if I’m not good at it?” “We’ll take it slow, start with the basics and we’ll go on from that, okay? I’ll be here for you and you’ll be here for me. We all like different stuff, it’s not like there’s a guide for it, I’ll learn what you like and you’ll learn what I like... This is new for me too.” “Yeah, right…” You scoffed.

“Not everyone likes the same stuff… It’s always new when the partner changes, it doesn’t matter if it’s a guy or a girl, of course some things are a little different but we’re all human, right?”  “Okay, I guess you’re right.” “I’m always right.” “You’re gonna get cocky on me now?” His eyes lit up once he opened his mouth to speak. You could tell he was about to make a filthy pun about his cock. “Don’t you dare saying it.” You playfully warned, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Better hurry to shut me up then, or I might not be able to hold myself.”

[hemmingsmendess]

My Oh My- j.m.

Joe Mazzello x fem!reader

Joe catches you dancing to one of your favorite songs

Warnings: oral sex(f receiving), vaginal sex, cursing 

Word count: 1,326 

Rating: M(18+) 

Reader is depicted as 19/20 years old

I was listening to My oh My by Camila Cabello and this came to mind. Hope you all like it!

You groaned as you turned your body to face Joe’s side of the bed. A wave of disappointment washed over you as you looked at the empty spot. You slowly made your way out of bed and walked out towards the living room, not bothering to get dressed. The house was completely silent, making it clear that Joe was out. A sigh escaped your lips at the thought of some quiet time. You loved him to death, but he was obnoxiously loud. A smile spread across your face as you saw the steaming cup of coffee that your boyfriend had prepared for you. 

“Alexa, shuffle the playlist ‘my favorite songs’ on apple music”. The beginning of Kiwi by Harry Styles blared through the speakers as you headed towards the fridge. You moved around the kitchen and looked for everything you would need to make some eggs. 

“I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, cracking the egg on the side of the pan. 

It didn’t take long before you were done with your breakfast and just jamming to the songs that blared from the speakers. You had been dancing around the living room for half an hour before the familiar notes of Camila Cabello’s “My Oh My” played. You ran to the radio to turn the volume up a little louder. This song was one of your favorite songs to dance to.

“They say he likes a good time, my oh my. He comes alive at midnight, everynight” you began shaking your hips along to the beat. “My mama doesn’t trust him, my oh my. He’s only here for one thing, but so am I.” 

This song made you think of Joe for a couple reasons. You weren’t shy to admit that he was about twice your age, a fact that your family was not pleased with when you brought him to meet them for the first time. 

You had been dating for about two months when your mother brought up the idea of having him over for dinner so your family could meet him. A wide smile was plastered to your face as you invited Joe over for dinner that night. 

Your mother had prepared a nice meal in anticipation of meeting the man you never shut up about. She let out a small shriek of excitement when the doorbell rang, signalling that you two had arrived. 

“Honey! Come here!” your father shouted as he opened the door to find you and Joe standing on the front porch, hand in hand. 

“Joe! It’s so-” your mother stopped mid-sentence as she saw you, her smile faltered for a moment. 

“Y/n, can I speak to you alone for a moment?” she asked as she grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside. “Honey! He’s twice your age! What are you doing with him?” 

“I love him, and he loves me.” 

“He’s only with you for one thing.”

“A little bit older, black leather jacket.” you sang out, not noticing the sound of the front door opening. Joe walked through the door and smirked at the sight he was met with. You were standing in the middle of the living room and shaking your ass, he thanked whatever beings were out there that you had just stayed in your bra and panties. 

“I swear on my life that I’ve been a good girl! Tonight I don’t wanna be her!” You jumped as you spun around and saw your boyfriend standing by the door, a smirk plastered to his face. 

“Don’t stop on my account, I’m fine just watching.” he said as he set the beg down on the table, walking over to you and grabbing your hips. You gasped as he pulled you closer to himself, his bulge digging into your lower stomach. Within a minute he had you pinned up against the wall, a knee spreading your legs apart. A moan tore past your lips as he pushed his leg up, creating a delicious friction on your core. 

“F-fuck.” Joe leaned down to press a searing kiss to lips, pressing you harder into the wall. 

“Joe, I need you, now.” you whined out as he moved down to suck on your neck. You hastily undid the buttons of his shirt and tore it from his body.

“What do you need, baby?” you let out a whine at his words, leading him to suck harder on your skin. “Do you want my mouth? Or do you want me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“M-mouth, please.” you looked up at Joe with pleading eyes before he sank down to his knees. 

“Your panties are soaked, babygirl.” he cooed as he brushed a finger over the damp material. Another moan tore from your chest as he brushed the panties to the side, exposing your pussy. Joe decided to tease you a little, pausing to place kisses on your inner thighs, taking an excruciatingly long time to make his way to your core. He must have read your mind, because just as you were ready to beg him to move along with it, he placed a kiss right over your clit. Your hips bucked into his face as he licked a strip up your slit, dipping his tongue between your folds for a second. 

“Fuck!” you screamed out as Joe continued his assault on your pussy. He switched between licking along your slit and sucking your throbbing clit into his mouth. 

“I-i’m gonna cum.” Joe removed his mouth from you as soon as the words past your lips. “Mo! No, please!” 

“Don’t worry baby, you’ll get to cum. I just wanna fuck that pretty pussy and make you cum around my cock.” you didn’t have time to reply before he was standing up and removing his jeans.

“You ready?” he asked as he reached down to line himself up at your entrance. You nodded your head and let out a whimper as he began to slide inside of you. 

“God, you’re always so tight for me.” Joe grunted as he bottomed out. 

“Move, please.” there was no hesitation as Joe pulled his hips back and slammed into you. You let out a gasp at the feeling of him stretching you. No matter how many times he fucked you, you would never get used to his size. 

You brought your lower lip between your teeth at a well angled thrust, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensations. 

“Joey.” you whined out as he finally found your g-spot. Joe pressed a kiss to your lips and angled himself so every thrust would hit that spot inside you. He quickly pressed his tongue between your lips, almost devouring you with how passionate his kiss was. “Fuck, I’m close.” your back arched as you felt the coil in your lower stomach tighten. 

“Me too, baby. Come on, cum for me.” your vision blurred out for a second at how intense your orgasm was. You whined out as Joe continued hso movements.

“Don’t worry baby, fuck, I’m so close.” Joe grunted as you clenched your walls around him. “Where do you want my cum?” Without any hesitation you replied.

“In me, cum inside me please.” Joe let out a shout at your words, the thought of cumming inside you being enough to send him over the edge. A whimper escaped as you felt the warmth of his cum filling you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Joe panted out, grabbing your ass and carrying you to his bed. As soon as you made it through the doorway, Joe laid you down on the bed and went off to grab a wet towel. 

“You were so good for me, baby.” he praised as he wiped away the mess between your legs. 

“I love you so much.” you whispered to him as he laid down beside you and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. 

“I love you too, Y/n.”

[dazed-universe]

Cauldrons and Kisses.

DO NOT REPOST. THE PIECE BELOW WAS WRITTEN BY ME.

Harry hosts a Halloween party and you turn up in an outfit to match.

~

England doesn't go as big as America on Halloween, or anything really, and Harry is uncharacteristically missing the big party spirit. The events he has been to Los Angeles before always read go big or go home and, although he's been tempted, he has fun, a lot. One thing he continuously says to us is how overrated he thinks it is and how dressing up takes way much more time and effort than it should so... you can imagine my surprise when his text comes through.

Hi, it's Harry. I'm throwing a party on Halloween, fancy dress, of course. I would love it if you came and I wanted to give adequate time for costume prep. I hope I see you and have a good one. x

Maybe it's a quarter-life crisis, maybe he had some wild epiphany, maybe he's just as bored as me and needs something to do and what is more fun than pretending to be somebody else for the night? I start getting texts from our friends who he also invited, already asking what I'm thinking of wearing, probably planning some elaborate group outfits. After a quick shower, a deep dive into spooky Tumblr will occur.

It's around ten pm now, which means there are exactly three weeks until Harry's party and I still haven't found an outfit after four solid hours of searching and some intense group chat conferring. I get up to make some dinner as the door goes, I throw on a cardigan before heading to answer it. "Hi, only me, no need to get dressed up," Harry jokes pointing between my cardigan and slippers. "Yet, at least. Did you get my text? About the party?" He questions as I let him in, closing the door behind him and walking into the kitchen, him following close behind.

"I did. It sounds fun. I'm just trying to figure out what in the world to wear so I don't end up turning up on the day as a cat or something," I say, pouring the now boiled kettle into two cups of tea, sliding one over it him, subtly shivering and bouncing his leg. "What if you want to go as a cat? Then what happens?" I look at his amused face with disbelief, his dumbassery forever astounding me. "Then it will be the best cat costume that Halloween has ever fucking seen," I return.

"What are you going as?" I ask, hoping his outfit will give me some inspiration, leaning over the table as if it's a secret, him doing the same. "I'm not telling you. You'll see it on the night, like everybody else." He whispers before taking a sip of his tea and sitting back, a big smile on his face. I put my head down on the table, moaning in annoyance and realization that I probably will end up going as something stupid. "Don't stay mad for too long, your tea is getting cold," he starts giggling as I look up at him, very unamused.

We finish our tea and talk more about the plans before he goes to LA until the party. Three weeks seems like a long time, but, when you have to shop or possibly make something, it's no time at all. "Right then, I'm going to head off, go home. You need to find an outfit, don't let me down, we have to be the best dressed." He says before coming around to my side of the table and giving me a hug, a kiss on the cheek and leaving. Well, now I have to find something good, I cannot let him down.

It's been three weeks since I saw Harry, which means his party is today. I'm meeting Harris and Alexa at five to start getting ready and then we leave for Harry's at quarter to ten. I have no doubt my outfit will be one of the worst and no doubt a disappointment to Mr. Styles despite his earlier warning, however, we can't all have custom Gucci on our side. I start getting ready to head over to Alexa's, jumping in the shower, having a quick snack, packing a little bag and heading out.

Alexa opens the door in a dress, definitely going as the queen of hearts, as Harris yells down the stairs about how they need the brush in her hand. "Come in, we must hurry, you know what he's like if people are late," We walk in her room, makeup, extensions, and clothes everywhere as Harris is having a Bowieesque lightning bolt painted onto their face. "So," Alexa says as they both look over to me, standing in the doorway. "What outfit did you decide on?" Was I debating just going home instead? One hundred percent but, what else was I going to do?

I go into the bathroom to get changed, always having to make a dramatic entrance, suddenly feeling better about my outfit. Sure, it's not the most adventurous but it's a little sexy and fashionable so, what is there not to love? I walk back into the room, leaning against the doorframe. "Hello, witches," I say, the iconic Stevie line from American Horror Story immediately recognized as Harris starts screaming about the dress and hat combo. It's amazing what black stockings and a pair of heels can do to an outfit. What is essentially a leather pinafore skirt with a lace top has never looked better.

I put on some eyeliner, red lipstick and let Alexa loosely curl my hair before we leave, right on time. We jump into the car picking us up before heading to the club Harry has booked out for his highly exclusive and anticipated event. We turn up to fans and paparazzi standing outside whilst the general public is walking by, wondering what is going on. We pose for a few photos before running inside, scared of England's unpredictable winter weather and the chance of rain. A few of Harry's friends greet us at the door, telling us he's upstairs and excited.

"No... No way... NO!" He starts yelling towards us as we walk in the door, looking my outfit up and down as I start laughing, taking in his leather trousers, black heels, suspenders, eyeliner and, lace shawl wrapped around his shoulders. "I should've just fucking told you, shouldn't I?" he says, shaking his head before pulling me in for a hug, squeezing me tight and whispering in my ear about he's kidding and it's fine, cute almost. "We match, that's fun. We can say it was intentional." he decides, now laughing himself and hugging the others. "At least we're the best dressed," he smirks back at me.

We party on into the early morning, karaoke being a very heavy influence on everyone's mood. Harry is, off walking around with drinks and snacks, being the best host he can be, even though there are waiters everywhere so I am sitting with Hélène, Harry, Harris, Alexa, and Pixie as they decide which song to perform next for the many drunk attendees. "Can I talk to you for a second?" Harry comes over and asks, smiling and fist-bumping everyone else before pulling me into the private, backroom. He leans in for a hug, making me laugh at the ever-so-slightly tipsy affection.

"I just wanted to tell you that I think you look amazing, and I wanted to make sure that you know I'm not really mad that we're matching," He says, playing with the tassels on his shawl whilst keeping eye contact with me. "I know, it's fine. And, thank you. You look good, I guess," I say, looking down at his very tight but complimenting trousers. "In fact, I think our Leather & Lace combination is actually quite sexy," he smirks, tucking a fallen piece of hair behind my ear and under the witch hat before cupping my face and leaning in.

He pushes me up against the counter behind us, I take my hat and his shawl off, running my hands up his back and into his hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip, a smile appearing as I gasp in surprise. "I have wanted this, for fucking long," he whispers against my jaw as he pulls away. "But we can't do this here, not now. Come back with me, when this ends," An amused smirk spreads across his face as his hands touch my waist, tickling me. "Let's make some magic, baby,"

~

Part Two.*

[nerds4life]

2 winners and 3 losers from One Direction’s solo albums

The boys have all gone in different … directions … since their indefinite hiatus in 2016. Some are better than others.

By Alexa Lee (Jan 31, 2020, 9:00am EST)

A decade — yes, a decade — ago, a teenage boy band by the name of One Direction was formed. After auditioning as individual singers on the British musical competition The X Factor, Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik were thrown together into a group by TV personality Simon Cowell in 2010. And thus, One Direction was born.

While the group only placed third on The X Factor, their time on the reality show was just the beginning of their global takeover. Over a span of five years, the group released five albums, did four world tours, broke numerous Billboard 100 music records (including ones previously only held by the Beatles), recorded a documentary, and even released a perfume.

At the same time, the five members also became the basis of adolescent crushes and fervor for many years to come. Thanks to their individual quirks and calculated branding ploys, each boy quickly became an archetype for a different high school crush: Niall was the adorable friend, Harry the artistic boy next door. Zayn was quietly mysterious, while Liam was extroverted and jockish. And Louis? Hmm, well — Louis was also there.

For those five years, the One Direction boys seemed like they were untouchable. That is, until Zayn left the group in 2015 to embark on a solo career, and, a year later, the remaining band members announced an “indefinite hiatus.”

Four years after One Direction announced its hiatus, each of the One Direction-ers have begun their own solo careers. It’s the first time any of them have recorded without each other, and the first time they’ve performed solo in front of an audience since being on The X Factor as teens. Their solo albums, good or bad, reveal how each individual wants to reintroduce themselves to the public, and how they’re attempting the complicated leap from adolescent pop star to independent adult artist.

Now that Louis Tomlinson has dropped his first solo album, every former One Direction member has released at least one solo project. (Harry and Zayn have each released two.) And there are some very clear winners and losers among them. Here’s how they stack up against each other and what each one tells us about who these boys are now that they’ve spent some time apart.

Winner: Fine Line by Harry Styles

Watching Harry emerge triumphantly, hair and culottes billowing, with the title of Most Popular and Critically Acclaimed Ex-One Direction Member is not unlike watching a long-awaited prophecy finally fall into place. Ever since One Direction first stepped into the international limelight, interviews and press circuits saw that Harry was different from his fellow bandmates. He was offbeat but cool, disheveled but sexy.

And in 2017, when he released his debut album named — what else? — Harry Styles, Harry established himself as worthy of all the hype from his years in the band. A brooding rock record filled with anecdotes about all the sex he has and heartbreak he’s felt, Harry Styles reintroduced Harry to the world as an indie songwriter, David Bowie fanboy, and charismatic lover. And with his next, more experimental 2019 album, Harry takes all these elements of his identity a step further, securing his spot in the popular music landscape as a modern rock star.

Harry released Fine Line at the end of last year, interrupting winter’s dreariness with bright, dancey songs about all-consuming yearning. The lyrics of “Adore You” and “Watermelon Sugar” conjure images of summer fruits and summer loves, and both songs set the perfect soundtrack for encountering a crush at a party, or at least fending off seasonal depression. And on “Cherry,” his transportive and melancholy ode to an ex, listeners get a glimpse at genuine heartache from Harry. Despite having built a career out of belting love songs, Harry has never before sounded this vulnerable in his music before. “Cherry” shines a light on the vulnerabilities of a seemingly invulnerable star and brings a touching depth to Harry’s music that was previously absent. Fine Line is the most adventurous and enjoyable of the One Direction members’ solo efforts, and it’s sure to convert even the most crotchety boy band skeptics into believers.

Winner: Flicker by Niall Horan

As a member of One Direction, Niall was beloved — but not for being the band’s breakout star or its scene-stealing performer or even its biggest personality. Niall’s greatest charm, and the primary allure of his 2017 album Flicker, is instead seeming like an ordinary, likable guy. The human embodiment of a chill night in, Niall projects affable, regular-guy energy, but in a more palatable way than, say, Ed Sheeran. He’s a man who, after being part of the most popular boy band this side of the millennia, can still convincingly seem like he’s bemused by his fame and wealth. Niall likes Nando’s, and he likes to golf on the weekends. It’s easy to imagine him as one of those people with the uncanny ability to put horses at ease simply by murmuring the dulcet opening bars of his hit single “This Town” and running his guitar-worn hands over their hides.

Niall brings this same aura of safety and coziness to Flicker, where he strums his acoustic guitar and sings earnestly about the mundane highs and lows of falling in love. His songs are emotionally and musically safe — the most upbeat tracks, “On the Loose” and “Slow Hands,” still retain a mellow, unhurried cadence, and sad songs like “Paper Houses” veer away from raw grief or anguish, opting instead for lyrics that just barely skim the surface of sorrow.

Is it always good when an artist’s best quality is being inoffensive and never taking risks? No, but perhaps in the swirling political and social chaos of 2020, it’s what we need. Niall is a calming lighthouse in the stormy sea of life, and we would be fools to let him out of our sight.

Loser: Icarus Falls by Zayn Malik

Writer Allison P. Davis once described Zayn as someone who “sings about sex like it’s this thing he just heard about on a Jodeci song.” It’s this image of Zayn that echoes in my mind whenever I think about his couple’s photoshoot with model Gigi Hadid, or the boyish pirate-themed pub in his backyard, or his many, many selfies featuring a tortured grimace and 5 o’clock shadow. Despite his reputation for being the quiet, mysterious band member, in his post-One Direction career, Zayn has revealed both his passion for sensual R&B, as well as a powerful lack of convincing sexual energy.

Davis’s one-sentence character study is also a devastatingly apt summary of Zayn’s second album, which came out in 2018. At nearly an hour and a half, Icarus Falls is a boring, corny exploration of what happens when a too-handsome man ensconces himself in cologne and longing. Chock full of weak lyrics (e.g. “That’s how I feel the soul inside her body”) and dull, forgettable beats, the album has neither the playfulness nor sufficient melancholy to breathe life into Zayn’s sensual aspirations, and the end result is unrewarding.

The disappointment of Icarus Falls is worsened by the fact that Zayn’s debut album, Mind of Mine, was so much better. Mind of Mine’s intriguing blasé attitude was an exciting change of pace from Zayn’s demeanor in One Direction, when he was obligated to sing very un-blasé songs like “What Makes You Beautiful.” Although the 2016 record also frequently stumbled when it intended to seduce, it showed signs of artistic promise that make Icarus Falls seem like dull anticlimax, with a mere two exceptions. “Let Me” and “Entertainer” are soothing tracks in which Zayn vows to shower his lover in devotion and luxury items, and they’re the only songs that come close to the groovy fun of his last album. For listeners who are unable to let go of Zayn’s undeniable vocal chops and moody flair (me), these quality songs are exasperating reminders that Zayn is wasting his potential as well as everyone else’s time.

Loser: LP1 by Liam Payne

For many years, Liam seemed poised to stay in the “normal guy” lane with Niall, often playing the band’s cheerful jokester in music videos and interviews. Because of his jovial stage presence and photogenic, symmetrical face, many people — Liam included — thought he would follow the footsteps of another boy band pop mogul, Justin Timberlake. Recently, however, Liam’s public personality has begun to curdle slightly, in the form of controversial Instagram posts about his personal wealth, dating and impregnating the judge at his X Factor audition, and regrettable jewelry he calls the “Payne Chain.” Today, Liam seems less like a new Timberlake and more like a second-rate Bieber.

Liam’s debut album LP1, released in December 2019, follows a similarly cringy trajectory. Boosted by Chainsmoker-esque beats and sleazy lines about “[doing] your ass in the car,” Liam’s music is a bold statement separating himself from the sound of One Direction, but it’s not for the better. At one particularly low point, he leers at and fetishizes his partner’s bisexuality in the song “Both Ways.” But even on tracks without pointedly offensive lyrics, Liam’s bravado comes off as corny, and he fails to utilize his sonorous voice’s full strength. Each song on LP1 sounds like a mishmash assembly of smash hit ingredients, but the final product can’t quite stick the landing, and songs blur together in a haze of tropical synth and repetitive melody.

It’s not all bad, though. Tasteless songs aside, it’s hard not to listen to LP1 without admiring Liam’s unwavering audacity. Not everyone has the bulwark of confidence required to sing lyrics like, “I just wanna have fun and get rowdy / One Coke and Bacardi, sipping lightly,” or release a song called “Hips Don’t Lie” that’s neither a Shakira cover nor good. While this album is not the radio-ready bop collection that Liam was perhaps hoping it would be, LP1 is, above all else, unapologetic about what it is.

Loser: Walls by Louis Tomlinson

In a recent interview with the Guardian, Louis says, “[Niall’s] the most lovely guy in the world … Zayn has a fantastic voice … Harry comes across very cool. Liam’s all about getting the crowd going, doing a bit of dancing … And then there’s me.”

Louis’s self-deprecating remarks reflect the popular perception of him as the forgettable, “other” member of One Direction. Sadly, his same failure to assert himself as a unique public figure and musician is the downfall of his album Walls, which struggles to sound memorable despite being the solo album that most closely resembles One Direction’s former sound.

Louis is the last member of One Direction to release a solo album, largely because he put off recording music for an extended amount of time after the death of his mother and sister in 2016 and 2019, respectively. Given this context, it’s not surprising that Louis’s music is steeped in solemnity, whether he’s nostalgic for an old relationship on “Too Young,” or openly grieving the loss of his family on “Two of Us.”

Unfortunately, Walls feels like a confessional series of diary entries set to drums and tinny acoustic guitar, and while the frank intimacy is a refreshing contrast to, say, Liam, ultimately the album feels lackluster and sonically generic. Soft guitar and even softer vocals accompany lyrics about longing — for someone, a feeling, a moment in the past — making Walls feel like a pale imitation of One Direction’s booming rock-inspired pop rather than an entity of its own. In his first attempt to separate himself musically from the group, Louis once again blends into the background.

Not everyone is better off alone [insert pun about One Direction becoming Many Directions].

The transition from boy band member to adult man solo artist is not an easy one. The scramble to assert oneself as a legitimate, relevant musician can be full of pressure, and not everyone walks away with equal amounts of fame and success. In the case of One Direction, the majority of these underwhelming solo efforts suggest that, as much as the members have striven to express their individuality, their biggest legacy will probably be being part of a group. (Unless we’re talking about Harry Styles, that is.)

[winterballads]

I was tagged by @pridesobright to answer 21 questions and tag 21 people! Thank you so much 💞💗

Nicknames: Mari/Marie, and one of my friends calls me Alexa 😂

Zodiac sign: cancer bith through and through haha

Height: 164 cm (5'4)

Hogwarts House: Slytherin powaaa! 💚

Last thing I googled: probably some French words and phrases while I was writing a professional email yesterday, cause apparently I’ve forgotten how to speak my own language rip 🙈

Favourite musicians: Harry Styles and the boys <3

Song stuck in my head: different songs by Zayn since I’ve been listening to him a lot in the past few days 💜 

Following: 758 gfhjs, and that’s after I went on an unfollowing spree a few weeks ago lmao

Followers: 1,893 good beans 💕 I once reached the 2k mark, but many people have unfollowed me since I essentially became a 1D blog 😭

Do you get asks?: almost never anymore, but I appreciate every single one of them <3

Amount of sleep: usually between 6 and 8 hours on a good night

Lucky number: maybe 3?

What are you wearing: my pjs complete with sweatpants and an Emilush hoodie :)

Dream job: Tolkien scholar or, even better, Harry Styles’ personal assistant whose job is to make sure to keep him happy and safe always 😍

Dream trip: I wanna go back to Norway soooo bad (maybe visit Bergen and Tromsø again and go to Lofoten and Svalbard as well), and also see more of Sweden, Denmark and Germany 🌸

Instruments you play: used to play the electric guitar and the clarinet, and I recently tried an electronic drumkit but it wasn’t a huge success :(

Languages you speak: French, English, German, Swedish, Danish and Norwegian at an acceptable level, and I have some (mostly very limited) basics in Quenya, Sindarin, Na’vi, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Irish, Welsh and Old English

Favorite song: this is soooo hard to answer, but atm I’m tempted to say Lights Up and all other eleven tracks on Fine Line 😌🙏✨

Cats or dogs: both, but I’m absolutely obsessed with cats 💗

Random fact: I haven’t lived in my own country (Canada) for longer than 6 months at a time in the past 5 years, and except for a 2-week trip last summer I was away for 3 consecutive years dfghdsj 

Aesthetic: I really vibe with fics like one two three four, and in general my main aesthetics is Tolkien Tolkien Tolkien and a lot of Celtic/Viking stuff 🙌  

Tagging @technicallysideacc, @harryincamp, @forreveries, @lordtomlinson, @louis-sott, @amantisegreti and @runningthroughthegarden91💘

[matildashoney]

chapter 18 might make me cry AND it's even longer?? why you do this to us?? lol

GOOD TEARS, I PROMISE!

I have to write about three-ish scenes and I’m rounding at about 4,000 words, right now. It’s going to be a doozy. 

I wish I could say why I do it, I’ve been sitting in my bed since 4 (it’s now 6:30) writing and complaining that I wish my brain was simpler (alexa play fine line by harry styles, now).