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novelistrry · 10 months ago

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Wind picked up, swirling around the two as she approached him. There was a leather riding jacket hooked on one of the stable doors, and as she approached him directly, he unhooked it and propped it around her shoulders. Reaching down, he began buttoning it up, until his eyes met her.

The sheepish look she had on her face nearly brought him to his knees. “How were your dreams?”

Her face felt hot. Was it noticeable? “Are you teasing me?”

A smile danced across his lips, bringing his hand to her hair and softly caressing it. “Of course not, Princess.”

Harry is a prince, Y/N is a princess, and neither of them know how to feel.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fake dating, tension, etc.

Warning: Mentions of panic attacks, nightmares, praise kink, deception, an awkward sexual encounter (consensual of course), etc! Also, this is not proofread.

Word Count: 4k, sorry it's so short D:

Part One

II. The Rain

Niall had been growing increasingly frustrated with Harry as the days passed. As Harry’s hand, and his best friend, he knew Harry was not as cruel as he made himself out to be. This plan of his, this deceit was one of the cruelest things Harry had ever thought of.

Everyday, Niall asked him if he really felt that this plan was sound, and everyday Harry would show remorse. Every now and again, Niall wanted to roll the words “you’re acting like a frightened child” off his tongue, but never could bring himself to hurt Harry’s feelings like that.

As wrong as it felt, as wrong as it was, his loyalty was not to Harry, it was to Y/N, which made him feel like scum at the bottom of a sea barrel. He could not imagine the guilt that was weighing on Harry’s conscience. He knew his friend. He knew his heart.

___

Y/N was floating on a cloud, the air smelled sweet like the grapes growing on the vineyards just South of the castle, and Harry looked so wonderful walking in front of her. A white linen shirt was loosely tucked into his riding pants, and his riding boots hit just under his knees. She could almost see his back muscles through the shirt. It was mouth watering, really. Y/N chose to walk a few steps behind him to admire what he looked like from the back, how beautiful his silhouette was.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, he turned. “Hello, dear.”

Her stomach coiled, and she nearly kicked herself for it. “Hi.”

The sheepish look she had on her face nearly brought him to his knees. “How were your dreams?”

Her face felt hot. Was it noticeable? “Are you teasing me?”

A smile danced across his lips, bringing his hand to her hair and softly caressing it. “Of course not, Princess.”

For a second, she thought maybe he would kiss her but when Brad came out of nowhere, Harry’s hand immediately dropped, putting a chunk of distance between them. Y/N couldn’t help the way her face contorted with disappointment. The way he immediately put space between them almost seemed like he was embarrassed to be acquainted with her.

She never understood exactly what they were, exactly where the boundaries were. Sometimes it felt like they were utterly obsessed with each other, and other times it felt like they were merely conversing because they needed to. The winds grew harsher as Brad neared them. The sound of the wind was like a murmur in the air, musical and somewhat daunting.

Dark clouds had surrounded the palace, signifying rain, which was not ideal riding weather. It was much too dangerous. The sound of the wind replicating the kind of haunting music you would hear the string section play in a Royal Theatre added to the ominous darkness.

“Still doing it, Princess? I’m proud of you,” Brad clapped his hands together, in support of her showing up for riding lessons.

Harry’s jaw clenched together, and his eyebrow twitched as he licked across his teeth. If Y/N knew any better, she would have thought this is something he does when he’s annoyed, “Right, she does very well.”

Her mind rushed, flooding with everything Harry had said about letting Brad into his bed. Was he upset that Brad had complimented her, when he should be complimenting Harry? The pair were so hot and cold, it was beginning to give her whiplash.

Brad and Harry exchanged a few pleasantries as Y/N brought her fingers to Freya’s coat, getting acquainted with the horse once more. Freya was so lovely, and strikingly beautiful.

As Brad scurried off, Y/N had Harry’s completely undivided attention once more.

“I want to get on Freya today.” Y/N spoke the words before she even fully thought them in her head. Her eyes went wide, but she knew why she said it. She wanted Harry to be astounded, to be completely winded with her.

Harry chuckled, tightening the bridle around Freya’s head. When Y/N didn’t say anything in response, he looked over at her and realized she was serious.

“No,” he spoke in a low voice, dancing around the subject with caution.

Anger swarmed her veins, like all of her blood cells had been replaced. Who was he to tell her no? Her ears felt hot, and Y/N’s nose scrunched. It was a habit she picked up as a young child when something didn’t go her way. Whenever she felt her nose scrunch and her eyebrows furrow, she felt like a small child demanding things go the way she wants.

“What do you mean no?” She grabbed the bridle from Harry’s hand, and he couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his mouth. Y/N was even more endearing when she was angry.

Carefully, he grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around so that their chests were pressed together. Taking a breath as the harsh winds racked through the stables, he smelled the scent of her. Vanilla and cinnamon; mouth watering and sweet.

“It means that you are precious to me,” Harry clicked his tongue, eyes locking with hers as if he were trying to convey everything he felt through his eyes. “And you don’t need to impress me.”

“How do you know that I’m not ready?” Y/N’s jaw clicked again, the scowl still apparent on her face, even with his swoon-worthy words. She would not be swayed by his charm.

Harry glanced over to where her hand was white-knuckling the bridle. When she followed his glance, she realized that her hand shook slightly, a nervous habit she picked up after her bad experience horseback riding.

He realized that he needed to approach this delicately; she was stubborn, hard-headed, and did not like to be told she couldn’t do something. He, at times, was so similar to her that it was like they were different sides of the same coin.

She dropped her hand, a deep shame washing through her. It was like he knew everything she was feeling by the microexpressions fleeting across her face.

He took her hands in his. Freya was starting to become an unwelcome third, because everytime he touched her, even in the most platonic way, she craved more.

“Don’t feel shame,” he said softly.

“I…” She trailed off, eyes glued to the ground. It was hard to look at him, and know that he was the picture-perfect prince, and she was so not. “I am not used to being… not good at something.”

Harry chuckled, and when she looked at him, she had never realized how he looked at her with so much delicacy. “I’m the worst sport you’ll ever meet, Y/N. If I am not good at something, it throws my temper. Just ask Niall. I wish I had an ounce of your poise.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asked quietly.

“Because… Someone must have told you that it’s not okay to feel fear and I don’t like that.” Harry looped his fingers under her chin, forcing Y/N to take her eyes off the ground and look at him. “We start small, like you did when you were first learning as a child.”

He grimaced at the poor choice of words, comparing her skill level to that of a child’s. Y/N was so easy to discourage, and he felt like he couldn’t say anything correctly.

Y/N saw the grimace and let it go. “So what do we do today?”

“How about today you just sit on Freya. I’ll hold onto her bridle, and you sit in the saddle. No walking, no trotting, just sitting.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “For how long?”

“Not too long,” he promised.

And with that said, his hands were all over her, helping her mount Freya. As soon as she was up, her thighs squeezing the horse tightly, he was watching for her micro-expressions that told him he needed to help her off immediately.

But she didn’t have any. If anything, a small smile formed on her lips, like she was proud she got on in the first place. Usually, she chickened out, but with Harry, she felt safe and cared for.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N.” Harry spoke, gripping the bridle closely. His hand rubbed her leg as she looked down at him. Swallowing, he realized he had been gripping the bridle with all his might, white-knuckling it the same way that she was earlier. Harry was feeling more nervous than Y/N was, and a deep sense of pride had him smiling from ear-to-ear as she confidently sat atop Freya.

She muttered an embarrassed-thanks, but by the way her head turned and her smile got bigger, he knew that she was liking the positive attention from her.

“You’re such a good girl, darling,” Harry said softly, his hands now resting on Freya’s sides to ensure she would not move.

“Me or Freya?” Y/N mumbled.

“Both, but I was talking to you, sweet girl.” She was melting.

Freya, feeling sick of their conversation and not being able to go anywhere, shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The sudden movement threw Y/N, causing a yelp to sound from her throat. Immediately, Harry dropped the bridle and reached for her hands, pulling her off of Freya and into his chest.

Whispering in her ear, he tried to soothe her before it led to a panic attack. “You’re okay, you’re fine. Sometimes they get tired of having all their weight on one side, just like us, so they move to get more comfortable. It’s normal,” he hushed her, “You’re okay.”

She shook slightly, but there were no tears or signs of panic in her eyes. As soon as Freya moved and Y/N yelped, Harry was there, pulling her head into his chest and reassuring her.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

He pulled her away, enough to scan her face and make sure that she was actually okay.

“I think that frightened me more than it frightened you, Y/N.” He laughed softly, earning a grin from her. “That’s enough for the day.”

Harry led Freya back to her stable, removing the bit and bridle from around her mouth. Y/N overheard him promise to come out a little later and ride her, or let her run wild in the tall grass behind the stables for some extra exercise. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an apple slice he had stolen from one of the breakfast carts in the hallway and fed it to Freya with an open palm. Harry’s intention was to have Y/N do it, to get over the fear of their massive teeth, but he thought she had enough scare for one day and didn’t trust her to set a boundary she was actually comfortable with.

Using her fingers, Y/N unbuttoned the coat Harry had put on her. She was fixing to put it back on the rack, where Harry had originally had it then head back inside, but he stopped her, letting her know that he wanted to stay out here for a while longer.

Walking together, they found themselves in a large tack shed with a bench for removing riding boots. There were so many tools and instruments for the horses and Y/N didn’t quite understand what they were for, but she had a feeling he didn’t bring her in here for a lesson on tools and riding equipment.

As predicted, the rain began pouring. Pitter patters of rain, hitting the shed pinged off the wooden roof, some of the holes allowing for water droplets to seep in.. It was cold, but she felt cozy nuzzled so closely next to him. Harry was so warm and so safe.

As soon as the door shut behind them, their bodies were pressed together and his lips were merely inches from her own. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

She nodded, but then added, “Why won’t you do it in front of anyone?”

He spoke, now his lips pressed against hers, “This isn’t going to be a gentle peck, Y/N. How would they feel seeing my tongue on the inside of their precious princess’ mouth?”

Harry was so vulgar, sometimes the words that came out of his mouth shocked her, and the gasp that slipped past her lips, Harry used to slide his tongue along her bottom lip and pull her lip between his teeth.

Using the wall made from plywood, Harry moved her so that Y/N’s back was pressed against the wall. His thigh was fitted between her legs as his lips moved against her own. They stayed like this for a while, small moans falling from Y/N’s mouth, and each moan went straight to Harry’s core. He liked earning those from her. He liked being with her.

“I wanna feel you,” Y/N said, and even she was shocked by how outright she said it. With each day, she felt more comfortable expressing her needs to Harry, and when those four words tumbled from her lips, their faces still pressed together, he couldn’t help the vulnerable moan that escaped his own.

“You want my fingers or my mouth, doll?” Harry took a step away, so her body wasn’t smushed between the wall and his own. He wanted to see her face as she answered, as her eyes flickered around the room and she begged for either his fingers or his mouth.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. That small bead of confidence was beginning to wither away. As if he could read her like the back of his hand, he understood that she was growing too bashful to respond.

“You want both my fingers and my mouth? You don’t have to say it, you can just say yes or no.” Harry tacked on the last end to make this experience as comfortable as possible. They hadn’t been together very much, but he always wanted her to feel safe with him.

“No, no.” She responded, looking down.

His brow quirked upward. “I’m not understanding, Y/N.”

Gently, she pressed a kiss to his neck, her tongue darting over the exposed skin as she suckled softly. It was almost like second nature, wanting to taste him everywhere. The moans that caught in the back of his throat were an added bonus to the sweet taste of his skin.

“You want to feel my cock, love?” He was trying to decipher exactly what she needed from him.

Pulling her lips from his neck, a soft string of spit attaching them together, she nodded her head. “I’m ready for it.”

He shook his head, “Not today, darling.”

She frowned, but he laced his fingers in between hers and led her to the bench against the opposite side of the tackshed. There, he sat, urging her to straddle his lap. She did exactly that, putting one leg on either side of him, so they were touching but their clothes acted as a barrier.

Y/N’s breathing caught in her throat as she felt the thickness beneath his trousers. A devilish smile that she had seen him use on countless other people before spread across his face. Using his hand, he softly grabbed her by the throat and guided her lips back to his.

Their lips worked together; their bodies in tandem with one another. Naturally, her hips started to buck, begging for some sort of relief. As she felt him against her center, she tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Harry used this as an opportunity to attach his lips to her neck and taste her, breathing in the scent of her bath soap. She was so beautiful and enticing, it made his head spin.

As they moved together, her hips became sloppier and sloppier with each roll. He tasted so marvelous, notes of mint and lemon as their mouth worked together. Y/N hadn’t realized just how much she yearned for him, in every single aspect. Even when he was being so mean, she had longed for his approval. Now, she wanted him in every single sense of the word. With just his fingers, he stopped her hips from moving against him, a displeasing cry sounding from her at the loss of friction.

“You’re doing so well for me, darling,” Harry breathed out, slightly out of breath. “I think you need to take your riding pants off, though. You should be as close to me as you can.”

She nodded, and with much enthusiasm, she stood up and quickly unlaced her boots and removed her pants. As she did that, Harry unbuttoned his own, sliding them down to his knees, revealing his white-colored briefs. The sight of him nearly finished her then and there.

“Can I give a small lick?” She asked, not caring how depraved it sounded.

“Christ, Y/N. Yeah,” he breathed.

Y/N sunk to her knees, the cold ground was somewhat uncomfortable but she was too engrossed in Harry to even realize. Darting her tongue out, she licked him over his briefs. Just enough to wet the fabric of them so much that you could see the outline of him.

“Come here,” he whined, but he didn’t have it in him to be mortified with the whiny tone. Typically, he would be.

Like before, she straddled him, her center pressed directly on the hardness of him. Once more, she was moving against him, the pleasure so much more intense now that layers of clothes had been stripped.

He used his hands to guide her, and she mumbled something about how he was a trained professional. This must have stroked his ego in the best way possible, because suddenly he was bucking into her, begging for her to come with him.

Harry often had a tough time feeling comfortable enough to reach his pinnacle with another person, it was something so deeply vulnerable to him that sometimes he couldn’t do it out of sheer embarrassment for them to see him in such an exposed state.

But when he felt her hit her high, he couldn’t stop himself before he was coming too. With no warning, he finished, come spurting in between them and landing on his white linen shirt. Just watching him finish, made her eyes roll back in her head.

Shock washed through him as her hips halted against him. Gently, he removed her from his lap, standing her up. Frantically, he looked around for a rag, anything to wipe the sticky residue off his skin and before it could stain his shirt.

He didn’t watch her as she dressed herself, completely oblivious to the fact that he had no intention of showing her that part of him.

With a hot face, he asked for his jacket to conceal the stains of his come on his shirt as he walked back to the palace, “Is it okay if I have my jacket back?”

She shimmied out of his jacket, handing it to him. He quickly threw it over his shoulders and buttoned it up before muttering out, “That was really good. Thank you.”

Shuffling through some boxes, he found a pancho they used when it was raining but the horses needed tending. He helped her put the cloak on so when she walked back to the palace, she would be assaulted by the rain and grow sickly.

Y/N just smiled at him as he rushed out, letting her know he had somewhere to be. With very much confusion, she watched him as he hurried out the door, rain pelting him.

____

That night, Harry did not find himself going back to the palace immediately.

Instead he wandered around the grass fields, too ashamed to face Niall or anyone else for that matter. Especially Y/N.

But as the sun began to set, and he knew Niall was growing more and more worried as each hour passed, he finally made his way back to the comfortable cottage Niall was staying in during their time at Y/N’s family’s palace. He was completely soaking wet when he returned, shoulders shivering. Niall ushered him to the fireplace, looking around for dry clothes that would fit Harry.

“Where have you been?” Niall asked, a clear tone of worry laced throughout his words.

And with that, Harry dropped himself onto the chair directly next to the warmth of the fireplace and spilled his guts. He told Niall about how Y/N made him feel like he couldn’t control himself, like he was a magnet that only responded to her frequency. He teared up as he told Niall what a terrible person he was for using her like this, and how it was going to feel even worse because his heart was already breaking.

And Niall, like the good friend he was, listened carefully and thoughtfully. Only when Harry concluded did he say, “If you like her so much, why don’t you call off this plan? It sounds to me like the plan is still on.”

“It is,” Harry confirmed. “I’m simply not good enough for her.”

Niall, knowing that he could not argue with Harry when he was in a mood as sour as this, rested his hand on his shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze.

___

That night, Harry found himself sitting outside Y/N’s door, afraid that her scary experience on Freya today might haunt her in her dreams. With his back against the door, and tired eyes threatening to close, he waited to hear her screams.

He wanted to be there, to hold her and tell her it was okay.

Dorothea, hearing the sound of feet shuffling as Harry readjusted himself so that his earshot had a clear line of Y/N’s room, went out to investigate who was lingering in the hallway.

“Prince Harry?” Dorothea asked, wide eyed and confused.

Harry hummed in response, barely flickering his eyes up to meet hers. He was so tired, they were threatening to close.

“It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?” She was slightly delirious from just waking up.

“I’m on nightmare watch,” he muttered out and it took a second for Dorothea to comprehend exactly what he said to her.

“Prince, if she has a nightmare and calls out for you, I will come get you again. You do not need to miss sleep to wait outside her door.”

“And what if she doesn’t call out for me?” His tired eyes looked up, “Will you still come get me?”

“Yes,” she promised, reaching her hand out and helping him to his feet. “Go to bed, Prince. You need beauty sleep.”

He nodded his head, rising to his feet with her help and turning to the direction of his own bedchamber. “Can you do me another favor?”

“Hm?” The sound coming from Dorothea was soft.

Harry reached his hand behind his neck, massaging softly. “Please don’t tell her.”

Dorothea only nodded in response, a silent promise between the two of them.

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to-be-so-lonely-fl · 1 month ago

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I just logged onto my account after years, to this family we all built together for our mutual love for the boys.

I'm in absolute shock reading the news that Liam has sadly passed away. One direction was always so important to me, to us. It's a strange feeling knowing we will never hear him sing live again. We grew up with him, and watched him grow as a man. Now I may not agree with the lifestyle he chose after one direction but no one deserves to go the way he did. He had a son who will no longer have a dad, sisters who will no longer have a brother, parents who will no longer have a son.

This is heartbreaking news and I'm sending all my love to his family and friends at this awful time 💔❤️

❤️Rest in peace Liam , forever in our hearts ❤️

#one direction #liampayne #rip liam payne #1d #niall horan #harry styles #louis tomlinson #1d gif #onedirection #liam payne #rest in peace #1d preference

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superlove167 · 1 month ago

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Rest in peace liam it's crazy to see that you are gone way too soon

#one direction #one direction preference #one direction imagines #liam james payne #liam payne #harry styles #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik

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mulledcherrywine · 2 years ago

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baby names

summary: you and harry cannot agree

a/n: teeeeechnically prequel to Rosie? (spoiler for this then i guess, whoops)

“Angela?” Harry said, going down the list of names he’d complied since finding out you we’re going to have a baby. Even though he’d written about a hundred, you couldn’t agree with a single one.

“Angela? H, no. No babies are named Angela,” you said.

“Literally everyone named Angela was once a baby”

You gave him a lovingly menacing look, coaxing him onto the next name.

“Allegra?”

“Did you alphabetize these?”

“Okay, sorry, next,” He breathed out, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, i’m being mean and picky,” you said, running a hand on the back of his neck, “but this is our kid, like, this is a very important choice.”

“Think we need a break?”

“Always. Do you want tea?”

Harry nodded wordlessly, scanning over his list once more. Getting up, you stepped off to the kitchen to make cups for the both of you.

The cupboard was stocked with all different types of tea, but you knew Harry’s favourite was chamomile. Grabbing the box down, you’d noticed a teeny red box shoved behind it.

Rosehip Tea

Sparks jumped in your mind, repeating the name over and over to yourself.

“Rosie,” you practically sang, “Rosie!”

“What?” Harry called from the other room.

Running in, crushing the box in your fist, you could’ve nearly jumped in the air.

“Rosie, Harry, Rosie. It’s the name.”

“Name of what?”

“Oh for fucks sake, Harry, the baby!”

He thought for a moment, but his face lit up almost straight away, telling you his agreement wasn’t far off.

“I think that’s perfect,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"So do I."

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hexsdexs · 11 months ago

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No but MY roman empire is the fact that 16 year old harry styles moved in with a guy he just met (louis), and then because he was underage; made louis HIS LEGAL GUARDIAN??? Imagine all of a sudden this guy you just met is your new mom. Absolutely bonkers.

#harry #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #louis tommo #louis 1d #louis and harry #1d #one direction preferences #one direction

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isak-og-even · 7 months ago

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Can’t decide if I enjoyed The Idea of You because it has so many classic fanfic tropes aka feels like home or because I, too, would like to be swept away by either Nicholas Galitzine or Harry Styles.

#it’s weird like that #I think I’d prefer Nick tbh but I also feel being with an actor might be harder dunno #the idea of you #nicholas galitzine #harry styles

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gumballavocadoharry · 2 years ago

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The three of us:

For the last two months you were feeling nauseous, bloated, you gained weight around your belly and to top it off your period was late, in fact it didn't come. Your husband Harry was away at the studio, so you had the privacy you needed to take a pregnancy test. So you ran to the store as fast as you could and grabbed the cheapest ones you could find.

You sat in the bathroom waiting for the results and sure enough all three of them came out positive. You were super excited but to be sure you went to the doctor's to confirm it. "Congratulations Mrs styles, you're pregnant!" The doctor said. Tears from happiness welled up in your eyes. "I can't wait to tell Harry." You said eager to race home and wait for him. The doctor handed you several copies of the ultrasound pictures and told you to schedule an appointment so she could examine you more.

"You're 3 months along so come back as soon as possible so we can do a more thorough examine." You nodded and scheduled a appointment for the following week. You ran home excited to share the news with Harry. But you wanted to make the surprise really big, so you ordered his favorite dinner and dessert. And then you took the ultrasound pictures and placed them in an envelope.

At dinner, the time arrived when Harry was home from the studio after a long day and was pleasantly surprised at the smell of steak cooking in the kitchen. "Hello babe," Harry kissed the side of your cheek. "Dinner smells good." You glanced back a little and shared a smile with Harry.

"It's a special dinner for a special guy and really special surprise." Harry's raised his eyebrows, now filled with anticipation. It wasn't until you served the three course meal, that Harry's eyes bulged from his head. "This looks delicious yn." Harry grabbed his knife and cut a big chunk of his steak. You both plunged into your dinners, while your heart beated like a speeding train over the prolepsis of your pregnacy.

Once the plates were cleaned, Harry diverted his attention to you. "So what's the other surprise?" You cleared your throat and handed him a tiny gift box. Sweat dripped along the temples of your head as Harry's fingers took ahold of the lid to open the life changing miracle inside.

His expression remained calm for a minute before he manifested the surprise. "YOUR PREGNANT?! I'M GONNA BE A DAD!" Tears overflowed in your eyes as you gave a soft nod to Harry. Before you knew it, you were being swept off your feet as Harry picked you up and swung you around in his arms. "I think I'm going to cry! This is what I've always wanted and now it's finally happening!"

"We're parents now baby!" You added. Harry pulled you in for a tender hug. "I love you. You know that right?" "I know. And I love you too."

Harry put his hand on your belly. "And I love you too future baby boy or girl." Your cheeks flushed a warm sensation of love.

As did your tummy. Even baby styles knew they were welcomed.

#harry styles #dad!harry #dadrry #harry styles imagine #harry styles and yn #pregnancy #pregnant #dads love #daddy's kitten #harry styles preferences #❤️#harry ❤️ yn #husband!harry #boyfriend #boyfriend!harry

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harry-writings · 1 year ago

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Where The Heart Is part 2 (Light My Love) sneak peek!!

A/n: I am hearing y’all!!! And I promise I’m getting my work done on this one! I’ve been super motivated lately and have had a lot of inspiration for this story.

Please note this is unedited at the moment! Hope you enjoy <3

Sleep.

She needs glorious, dreamless sleep.

The bed creaks as she lifts herself from the mattress, letting the television light guide her shuffling steps to the bathroom. The light is so dim that when she flicks it on, she barely has to squint her eyes to adjust from the darkened room she’s cooped herself up in for the past three and a half weeks.

She grabs the orange bottle on the sink with a sigh, shoulders slumped as she looks at the pills she’s been prescribed to take every night before bed. Just one. One pill is all it takes for the insomnia and nightmares to go away, for all the pain to sweat out of her system and finally allow her spiraling thoughts to rest.

But one pill no longer feels like enough. One pill feels like the tiredness buried permanently in her bones spreads to her already fogged brain, settling behind her eyes and making her feel even heavier than before. One pill gives her nearly three hours of unconscious slumber before the tornado hits again, before Harry’s being swept up by the storm and leaving her with nothing besides the haunting echoes of his screams, and his eyes on the child she holds so protectively in her arms.

Two. She’ll take two tonight. Because she needs it. Because she needs to stop feeling.

Her hand instinctively reaches for her stomach at her decision, taking a moment to contemplate the risks. But the doctor was abundantly clear that the baby wouldn’t be harmed if she had chosen to up her dosage, just as long as she took note of any negative side effects and didn’t continue to make a habit of it.

Just tonight. She just needs tonight.

She pops the pills in her mouth with a palm-full of tap water, sighing once again as she sets the bottle down. But as she does so, her eyes catch sight of the water running from the faucet and suddenly the sound of it is so loud — her senses succumbing to the white noise; her empty, exhausted thoughts flashing back to a memory she had yet to revisit since the break up.

She completely dissociates from herself.

“You’re an absolute menace.” Harry laughed as he washed his hands in their shared bathroom, shaking off the access water before turning the faucet off.

Y/n giggled as she pinched at his side, nibbling on his arm as she fought her way around his unbelievably strong limbs to squeeze herself between the counter and his body. Leaving her minor leeway to cuddle herself in, she wrapped herself around him and rested her head upon his chest, looking up at him with a playful pout.

“Please, Har. I’ll do anything you want.”

He smirked down at her, eyes gleaming at the bargain.

“We’ve already done everything.”

“I’m sure not everything…”

His smirk lingered as he looked down at her, his stare so childlike and full of love it completely entranced her. And he must have noticed because he leaned down to kiss her once, twice, three times before pulling away.

“Y/n, you mean the absolute world to me, but no. Absolutely not.”

#harry styles imagine #one direction imagines #harry styles #harry styles preference #one direction #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles facts #harry styles fanfiction

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triski73 · 4 months ago

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#daylight #b&w #i prefer this late late version to the official video #harry styles

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novelistrry · 2 years ago

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Her mouth gawked open at how casually he said it was like it was completely okay for her eyes to be ogling him like he was a piece of meat. Every single time he wore that shirt, she felt guilty for the ways her eyes could have burnt holes through his chest. Now, she was thinking he wore that shirt so often on purpose— to make her squirm. She tucked her face into the neck of her arm to hide from him.

“Stop hiding from me. Want to see your bashful face,” he pulled her face from the neck of her arm and placed his fingers below the underside of her chin once more so she wouldn’t pull away. “Y’know if you were one of the seven dwarfs, you would most definitely be Bashful.”

With an eye roll and a defeated puff from her lips, she finally gave him the answer he was hoping for, “I’ll go with you.”

As much as he wanted to be delighted by her response, he wanted to confirm that she was positive she actually wanted to go. He didn’t want to force her into doing anything she was unsure of, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Y/N stood from the chair and stretched out to rid the aches in her joints from sitting in one position for too long. “Do you think we could watch a movie?”

Harry is a young professor and Y/N has never felt this kind of attraction before.

Disclaimer: There is only light editing and it is smutty in this part!

Word Count: 14k+

Part One

The Spring breeze brushed Y/N’s cheeks.

Sprawling out on a plaid picnic blanket with her and Niall’s favorite lunch items was her favorite way to spend Sundays, especially when the park was filled with laughter, butterflies, and blooming flowers. Sunshine covered the entirety of the park, seeping warmth that trickled deep into her skin and bones, and she was soaking up every ounce she could get. Sunshine made her feel happy, and optimistic even.

Niall sat there with a book in hand, reading something for pleasure, taking a pause from all the educational content he had consumed over the past few months. It was some book that he begged Y/N to read, telling her that she would absolutely fall in love with the characters, but Y/N was too preoccupied with the tension brewing in her own life, not leaving much room for her to brew over fictional characters.

With a few snaps and a couple grunts, Niall managed to pull her from her reverie looking disgruntled as his book lay askew in his lap. “Sheesh, what do I have to do to get your attention nowadays. Dye my hair brown and curl it?”

That familiar heat that normally crept up her skin, penetrating her cheeks and the top of her ears rose once more, and her sheepish smile remained as she swatted in his direction, not actually able to nudge at him because he was a little too far. Y/N and Niall hadn’t talked about the bar a few weeks ago. He didn’t know where she snuck off to after school or why she was coming home late at night. It’s not that she didn’t want to tell him, Niall just hadn’t asked. “Oh, stop that!”

A teasing smile played upon his lips, curling just slightly and his eyes gleaming enough to know that a snide remark was going to be hurled at her soon. “So what, you spend all your time with him now and he occupies your thoughts when I’m with ya?”

Pink lips curved up, matching the same teasing smile Niall had displayed across his face. A shimmer in her eye had him realizing he wasn’t that far off the mark with his assumption, though she wasn’t keen on confirming that with him. A floral-scented breeze blew through her hair as she inhaled sharply, filling her lungs with the clean Spring air, resetting her breath and her thoughts. “How would you know if I spent all my time with him?”

In a fraction of a second, Niall was sitting a little closer to her, the book he was once enthralled with falling off of his lap and closing on itself, losing the page he had carefully left it open on. His arm extended to nudge her slightly, pushing her in the direction of that floral-scented breeze she just couldn’t get enough of. Dandelions were growing in the grass, rose petals were falling from the bushes that paved the park sidewalks, and blue skies hung over them. It was an omen of goodness, she thought.

“You think I don’t realize how late you sneak through the door? I can hear ya!” He wasn’t speaking to her in an accusatory tone like she was sneaking behind his back because she wasn’t. He spoke to her in a tone that says I’m your best friend, I just wanna know what’s going on in your life, so she decided that she would give him a glimpse at how her afternoons are spent.

“He’s been tutoring me, that’s all. He found out I was failing abnormal psych and told me he can help me. It’s completely innocent, but he helps me after school…” She trailed off, leaving out the details that he drives her to his apartment where they lay her books out on the kitchen table and he goes through each concept with her, or that sometimes when they’re feeling a little tired, they lay her books out on the coffee table and sit together on the couch, elbows and knees brushing. She leaves out the fact that she stares at the way his mouth moves when he speaks, and sometimes he gives her a stern look, indicating that he knows where she’s looking and she needs to focus on the subject at hand. Besides the subtle and gentle brushes of bare skin, and the fact that she sometimes stares when she shouldn’t, it was a completely innocent thing.

“But you don’t want it to be innocent, is that it?” Niall asked, the judgment-free from his tone. Curiosity was interwoven between the syllables, but there was no indication that he was judging her for her…. Er… Feelings?

Hummingbirds flew past them as she thought of an answer. A couple thoughts were swimming through her brain, but none that she wanted to share with him. No, she wanted to keep some of them private, just for her. She didn’t want to tell him about the kiss they shared, or the way her fingers would graze her lips the following week after their lips had touched ever-so-gently. She didn’t want to tell him that when she breathes in the citrus scents in the produce aisle at the grocery store she thinks of his minty citrus cologne, or how sometimes when he would lean in while she studied, her heart would thump a little harder and her skin would warm with a feeling she couldn’t quite place just yet.

“I don’t think so,” was all she said, not giving any other information. That is all Niall wanted to hear, that she knew she was feeling something more than a bond between two colleagues. If he was being honest with himself, he was a little worried for her. A professor and TA isn’t the worst combination, eventually, when the semester ended, she would no longer be his TA, but she had never expressed a crush even throughout undergrad. Hell, Niall didn’t think she had very much experience with guys, but that would never be an appropriate question to ask her.

“As long as you’re being safe, I’m happy that you feel so happy,” the response was honest. He was happy, though a tad nervous like mentioned before, but happy to see her so consumed with the sunshine, the flowers, and the hummingbirds that swirled around them. He thinks maybe, just maybe, her sweetened mood might be the force that brought Spring on so suddenly.

“Thank you, Niall,” she said slowly, “I am happy.”

____

“Are you understanding this?” Harry pointed to words in bolded letters that read mood disorders. His tongue flicked out across his bottom lip as he lowered himself from the couch to the floor, criss crossing his legs so that he was adjacent to the book Professor Smith required in his class (it happened to be the same one Harry required, so he knew the book like the back of his hand and it made the lessons with Y/N so much simpler).

A puff blew from Y/N’s lips as she eyed him, the words he was speaking weren’t registering in her ears. It seemed that with each passing day, she became more flustered with the proximity of him and more restless each time their skin brushed or she watched his tongue wet his lips— something she had never quite experienced. To her own embarrassment, she had googled the symptoms and Google had told her she was experiencing a kind of attraction she had probably never experienced before. Y/N thought back to the few people she had a crush on years ago and realized that they just made something bubble in her tummy, but never made her feel the way she felt when she looked at Harry. She felt so jumpy and jittery around him, she was beginning to think something was wrong with her. Quickly, she clicked out the tab and then cleared her search history, although she knew that no one was going to be able to look through it beside her. She just didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that she had googled something that made her feel so virginal.

It was true, she had only ever kissed one person other than Harry. She didn’t have half the experience Harry had, and she probably couldn’t even convincingly say she had a quarter of his experience either. The boy was named Kitt, and she met him at a summer camp they both attended in high school. At the end of the camp, right before she was shipped back home, Kitt planted one on her. She didn’t feel for Harry the same way she felt for Kitt, her relationship with Kitt felt childish in comparison. She wanted to feel Harry, really truly feel his mouth against hers. Not the way he kissed her in the office to cheer her up, make her feel better, and soothe the horrid thoughts that were rifling through her brain. She wanted a kiss where she was attentive, where she could explore every inch of his mouth, and where she could—

“Are you even listening to me?” He asked her, pushing his face into his hands. At first, she thought maybe he was losing patience with her, but when he nudged her with his elbow and sent an angelic smile (the kind of smile that would make a person drop to their knees), she knew he was only teasing her.

Embarrassment flooded through her as she was caught, once again, not paying attention to the concepts he was trying to teach her and rather drifting off into daydreams about him. The sun was setting, the natural light in the living room slowly dimmed as they shifted from day to night, and she knew that their time together for the night would be coming to an end soon. She should have really been listening to him, taking in each sound of his voice, the way his deep voice wrapped around the consonants and vowels, but she just couldn’t help it. Ugh, she just couldn’t focus.

“I’m sorry,” she answered him genuinely. She was sorry for not listening. He was taking so much of his free time to help her learn and she repaid him by not listening. How could she tell him that the way his eyes locked with hers, sultry and tempting sent her spiraling into daydreams she didn’t want to pick herself out of? How could she tell him that when she watched his tongue flick over his lips, she thought of the way his lips felt against hers and how she wanted to feel that again? She wouldn’t tell him that, so she settled on the next best thing and put her face in her hands to hide from his concerned stare, “I’m just having trouble focusing.”

With caution, he shifted his body and brought himself back onto the couch so that he was sitting next to her once more. Harry had been noticing the way she was in and out of their conversations, sometimes completely immersed and other times floating away so high that he thought he would have to bring her back down with a butterfly net. Usually, he tried not to make her feel too bad about it, he didn’t want her to think that she was upsetting him, because she wasn’t. But, this was the second week of her floating to space as he talked. Sometimes he would catch her right before she slipped into the reveries it was hard to bring her out of, but today she was long gone and he was beginning to feel anxious over her lack of focus.

“I know you are,” he reached over and hooked his fingers on the inside of her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face so that she would look at him. He didn’t want to treat her like a damsel in distress of any sort or like he was some hero trying to save her from her own thoughts— that’s not what was going on at all. He just wanted to understand her better, to figure out where her brain was running off to. “Won’t you tell me why?”

There it was again, that soft voice that makes her admit things she otherwise would have been so unwilling to do. Fingers caressed her cheek lightly; his fingers. Without much thought, she tilted her head into his fingers, begging for his touch without actually saying anything. It was dangerous, he knew it was. The last time he crossed a boundary with her, he told her it couldn’t happen again, and though she occupied most of his thoughts, it had been a month since the kiss, since he pushed her up against the wall of the bar and she licked his finger, and he wasn’t willing to cross that boundary again even though he wanted to.

“‘Can’t stop thinking about you,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering close as his fingers brushed against her cheek in soft strokes. With so much delicacy, with so much precision, he gave her one last stroke of the cheek before tucking his hands in his lap. Y/N’s eyes which were peacefully shut as she soaked in the brief skin-on-skin contact abruptly opened at the lack of physical touch.

“I see,” his tone shifted to one that was more guarded, one that was less like the cheerful, sweet Harry she had gotten so used to over the past month. “You just really need to understand this stuff.”

Harry was trying to reason with her, he really was and she knew it too. She wanted to cross her arms, turn her lips down into a gruff point, and tell him that she wanted to talk to him outside of all the studying. Maybe it was wrong, but she wanted to get to know him for who he was outside of a college professor. There were so many things in his home that made her think that he was quite possibly the most interesting being to ever walk the planet. Vinyls crammed into a bookshelf that was absolutely not made for vinyl but must have run out of room for his records on the measly shelves you can buy at the record store. The furniture wasn’t your typical ikea branded nightstands and sofas. It was much more intricate like he had spent his days going to vintage furniture stores, trying to find the coziest couch that matched his bubbly spirit. Y/N had never been so interested in the ins and outs of someone’s life, how they formed their taste, or how they decided their career path. The closest thing she could think of was how she hammered Niall with twenty questions when they first met. It was purely platonic, never any mutual attraction between the two. Obviously, Y/N knew he was a little pretty, but she was much more interested in being his friend than anything else.

“I know,” she huffed out, furrowing her brows in frustration. A feeling of smallness washed over her, realizing that she admitted she thinks about him. A lot. Too much. And he responded by telling her she needed to understand the course contents. Of course, she knew that. “I’m trying.”

His lips twitched and though he knew he shouldn’t indulge her further, he liked to see her bashful gaze and the way she sucked in her bottom lip between her teeth and furrowed her eyebrows, attempting to give him the most thoughtful answer she could possibly think of. Honestly, Y/N was the type of girl that people could say was put through a time machine. She chose her words carefully, she picked her actions cautiously, and she was too mindful for her own good. But when it came to Harry, she felt so out of control of herself. It was massively infuriating.

Against his own better judgment he asked her the question he knew he shouldn’t have, “What do you think of when you think of me?”

She pondered momentarily, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, furrowing her eyebrows, and searching the crevices of her brain for a way to respond to him. She just spent the better half of the lesson with him, thinking about his lips and how they felt, but she didn’t let her thoughts go further than that. No, she barely tried to think about the way her tongue licked from the base of his finger and then swirled against the tip because she could barely handle where the thoughts might lead to. She didn’t want to admit it, not when he was so firm about the boundary they set in his office a month ago right after the kiss they shared. “I wonder what you’re like outside of school and tutoring. I look around your apartment and see all these intricate things and beautiful paintings, and it makes me wonder how you spend your free time.”

“That’s all?” He looked at her incredulously, wondering why she was so shy about daydreaming about how he spends his free time. Actually, he would have even gone as far as to say that he was disappointed. All she had to do was ask him, and he would cross that boundary with her once more.

“Yes,” she hummed out, slumping her shoulders forward and resting her elbows on her knees, “That’s it.”

“Well,” he responded, closing the textbook but not before dog-earring the book to mark their spot (one of Y/N’s biggest pet peeves was dog-earring a book instead of using a bookmark, but she guesses she doesn’t mind so much when it’s Harry who does it). “Can I make a deal with you?”

“That depends on the deal,” she quirked one of her eyebrows.

“If I tell you that we can spend some time together outside of studying, do you promise to try and pay attention a little more?” He asked, giving her the best deal she could have possibly thought of.

“Of course!” Excitement nearly burst from the pores of her skin, and she didn’t have it in herself to be mortified by the way she responded with such enthusiasm.

“It’s a deal, Darling,” he reached out his hand and grasped hers, shaking gently.

That’s how it began. That is how Y/N and Harry began spending so much time together, going on picnics, seeing movies, getting coffees at the shop on the corner of where his flat was located, visiting flower shops, feeding the ducks bread at the pond (though Y/N googled it and found out that oats are much better for ducks because if you throw the bread in the pond, it can rot and collect algae causing harm to the wildlife in the surrounding area). That is how Harry ended up keeping a 42-ounce container of oats in his car just in case she wanted to feed the ducks.

____

Bright lights shone in the sterile atmosphere, and Y/N knew she should have been paying attention after being called out by Professor Smith just last month, but it was only partner work with Mallory and Mallory didn’t mind that she was dazing off back into that far away land. Actually, Y/N noticed that Mallory was too, except when she peered over at Mallory, her eyes were narrowed, her fingers were gripping the desk tightly, and it was like she could physically see the color drain from her face.

“Mallory?” Y/N questioned her friend, pulling Mallory from her thoughts. With care, Mallory set the pen on the table, then rubbed her eyes in a couple brisk moments. When she finally looked back at Y/N, she still didn’t have that signature warm look in her eyes. The kind of look that tells people “You’re safe with me.” It was gone, buried under deep gray clouds and Y/N could nearly see that the storm was brewing behind those eyes.

“I’m sorry, I have a lot on my mind,” she explained, her eyes still not meeting Y/N’s. The blank gaze was becoming alarming with each passing minute, and usually, Y/N didn’t like to push because she knew how it felt, and it was not a very good feeling, but she decided that she and Mallory had made good enough friends that it was slightly acceptable.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A question that was open, and couldn’t be classified as pushing because it was a close-ended yes or no type of question. If she said no, they would move on immediately and Mallory would never hear another peep out of Y/N regarding the subject. Prying just felt too invasive.

“I think Josh is cheating on me.” It turns out Mallory didn’t need any other pushing, because the words slipped from her lips so easily but with careful caution as she looked around the room, eager to see if anyone was eavesdropping on the pair (no one was, Y/N thinks Mallory just didn’t want the whole class to know her business, which was fair. She didn’t want anyone knowing her business either, but Professor Smith had other plans).

“Why do you think that?” The question Y/N asked was genuine, and filled with care. Y/N couldn’t imagine, what a horrible thing to think and how it must be weighing on Mallory heavily. Y/N thinks if she was kissing Harry all the time, and then found out he had been with other girls, it would feel like a knife right in her chest. But it was much different for Mallory. Mallory was in love with Josh, and from what Y/N gathered, Josh loved Mallory too. So how could he do something like that?

“I found underwear in the backseat of his car when I was looking for one of my earbuds that I dropped…” Mallory began gathering her thoughts, “they were tucked in between the seat and the floor, right next to where my earbud went.”

Y/N nodded in understanding, “I see, and you don’t understand why your underwear would be in the car.”

“Well, no,” Mallory explained, trying to get Y/N on the same wavelength as her. “It wouldn’t matter if I found my underwear in the car. Sometimes we just need each other so bad. The issue is that it wasn’t my underwear. I have never owned a laced pair of red underwear with pink hearts embroidered. Never.”

It suddenly clicked in Y/N’s brain. That wouldn’t make a lot of sense for Mallory to find a pair of underwear she has never owned in her life in Josh’s car. Y/N tried to think of ways it could be a misunderstanding, to reassure Mallory that maybe it wasn’t as it seemed. There was no way Y/N could spin it in her head that made Josh look less guilty than he actually was. He seemed very guilty. “Have you said anything to him yet?”

Mallory shook her head and pressed her cheek against the coolness of the wooden desk, “Tonight I will. I think I just wanna be in my thoughts right now.”

Y/N whispered something small, telling her that she understood and did not fault Mallory for not wanting to talk about it anymore. Maybe Y/N was a little relieved at that because she didn’t know the first thing that would make someone feel better about that. She couldn’t tap into prior experience, she couldn’t pull from when she was cheated on because Y/N was never in a situation like that. Actually, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying that sentence Mallory had said that awakened a realization deep in the pit of her gut, it was fizzling like a volcano was ready to explode. Sometimes we just need each other so bad, was what Mallory had said. Those simple string of words laced together helped Y/N describe the way she had been feeling for Harry; restless, tense, and she felt like she just needed him so badly every time she saw him. It was a realization that what she was experiencing was an attraction like no other, but how was she supposed to tell him?

____

Harry hated it.

If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was miscommunication; plain and simple. Or in this case, lack of communication.

He couldn’t even tell you how many nights they sat down, side by side at his kitchen table going over the textbook (at this point he wanted to throw it through the window, he was so sick of it) and ignored the tension that was growing between them. With each longing glance, the tension was nourished. They were watering it, he thought. They were causing it to grow bigger and bigger until one day it couldn’t be confined to the four walls and they were just going to explode.

Sometimes the tension grew when they weren’t studying too. Actually, that’s where it seemed to get worse. When they were out and about, she would do subtle things that would work him up. Make him wanna grip her hips and pin her against the wall again, just like the bar. God, the bar. He pushed the thought down, but a similar thought began to rise.

“No, Harry,” she shook her head and tutted her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around his and encased his hand in hers. She was trying to show him the best way to feed the ducks. “This is how you do it.”

“So now you’re the professor?” He asked her, watching the bashful gaze flutter upon her features as she tucked her cheek against his shoulder. She began shaking his hand, letting the oats fall out from in between his fingers. He did understand it, though, the technique she was teaching him was a lot better than the technique he was using which clumped all the oats together. Now the ducks could pick the oats off the ground with space instead of cramming against one another.

“I think you can learn a few things from me,” She retorted, finally dropping his hand from hers. It was a strange feeling he had. The feeling that he didn’t want her to let go, he didn’t want her touch to fade.

“I think I can too,” he replied, tilting his head to the side, admiring her compassion and thoughtfulness. He thinks that if he weren’t there with her, Y/N would have the ducks eating from the palm of her hand.

But, finally, the lack of communication had reached its breaking point. He couldn’t handle it anymore, he needed to hear her thoughts. He just needed her to talk to him. So, he slammed the textbook shut a little too aggressively, causing her to jump and glare at him with frustration.

“I was in the middle of reading that!” Y/N’s glare persisted, but now her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips were flipped downward in a pout that told him she wasn’t happy with him shutting the book so abruptly and not giving a warning.

“Let’s talk,” he ignored the pout on her lips and the way her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. What he didn’t ignore was the way her fingernails nervously scratched at the table. Gently, he took her hands into his and shifted his body so they were facing each other. Her hands, still tucked tightly in his, were placed in his lap. It didn’t take long for him to note the way the pout wiped from her face as soon as she felt his skin against hers as if it was soothing for her hands to be in his.

“But you always scold me for talking when I’m trying to study!” She argued, trying to get to the bottom of why he wanted to talk. Y/N went through a mental checklist in her head of things he might want to talk about, but there was nothing so pressing that he needed to slam her book closed mid-sentence. She was finally passing Professor Smith’s class, she was keeping up with all her TA work in his class, and she wasn’t slipping into daydreams since her conversation with Mallory happened.

It took him a couple moments to respond. Instead, he admired her for just a second. She deserves admiration from time to time. Hell, she deserves admiration all the time. She was so cute he didn’t think it was humanly possible. If someone came knocking down his door and telling him that he was seduced by an alien and needed to report to NASA headquarters immediately, he wouldn’t have second-guessed it. He looked at her like she hung the moon, the sun, the galaxy, and everything in between.

“Will you quit staring,” she grumbled shyly.

“I just want to know how you feel, that’s all.” He was trying to be as straightforward as possible.

____

He wanted to know how she felt? Since her conversation with Mallory, she tried to find the words she would tell him. Y/N knew it wasn’t healthy to keep it bottled up and locked away. In fact, with each passing day, she felt like she was going to burst. Eventually, they were going to have this talk and she knew it was coming. No matter how much she thought about it, she didn’t think she would ever fully prepare for it. Obviously, after she and Harry shared the kiss, they talked about it and how it couldn’t ever happen again, but besides that, they both chose to ignore that it ever happened.

She popped her mouth open ready for the words to come out, but when they didn’t, she closed her mouth once more. Y/N did this a few more times, noting how patient Harry was with her. She thinks she might be the luckiest girl to be able to talk to someone so patient and kind.

“I was talking with Mallory,” Harry stiffened at the sound of Mallory’s name so she quickly revised the thoughts that poured from her brain and straight out the fountain that was her mouth, “Not about us! About her and her boyfriend. She thinks he’s cheating on her, but she hasn’t gotten to talk to him yet…” Y/N’s words faded out as she tried to figure out how to phrase this without sounding needy.

Y/N decided the best way was to start from the beginning, so she continued with her story, “Mallory said she dropped an earbud, so she was looking in the backseat of her boyfriend's car for it and found a pair of underwear that didn’t belong to her. Well, at first I thought it was because why would there be underwear in his car, but then she explained it wouldn’t have been that weird to find her underwear in his car because I guess sometimes they sleep together in the car. She told me they only did that when they felt like they needed each other badly,” she paused momentarily, once again trying to locate the words. “I think that’s how I feel about you. A strong desire.”

A strong desire? What was she thinking? She replayed the words, feeling so stupid for even saying them out loud. Y/N had admitted that she desired him but didn’t think he would return that same desire. How could he? The look on his face was unreadable, and she was suddenly hyper-aware of the room around them. She could feel the lights penetrating through the top layer of skin warming her up, she could hear the sound of the fireplace under his television crackling, and she could see the way his eyes flickered between her mouth and then back to her pupils. She may have messed up something go—

As if he was plucking a delicate flower from the grass, he pulled her body closer to him. She was off the chair and back in his lap in mere seconds, the same way she was back in his office when they shared the first kiss. Completely straddling him on the dining room chair, she was all too aware of how exposed she was in his position. She was reminded of the feel of his thighs between her legs once more. This time the kiss wasn’t gentle and filled with tears, it was more longing and wet. He pinched the sides of her hips with a such delicate precision that her mouth dropped open, just slightly to let him in.

Her prior kisses played on a loop in her mind. They had never felt like this before. This was pure desire, no doubt about it. His tongue caressed the inside of her mouth, and he tasted like the juice he was drinking as they studied. A soft and subtle notion of cranberry filled her mouth, and when she took a deep breath through her nose, she smelled his minty citrus signature scent.

Tongues colliding, she felt as if she could transcend from her body. And for a second, she thought she may have left her body and watched the two of them go at it from an outside perspective. It was sensual the way they moved together as if the two of them were one and the same. A piece of art carved from the same stone.

When his tongue retreated back to his own mouth, allowing her to feel the inside of his, she let a small moan escape, the vibration snaking its way up her throat and into his mouth. He could have melted then and there. The sound embarrassed her just a little bit. The moan—or whimper, really— was filled with such desperation and corrupt desire she couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of shame in the pit of her gut.

She pulled away, her face burying into his chest so that she couldn’t see the look on his face. “Sorry.”

He stroked his fingers up and down her sides, slipping beneath her shirt to feel her skin and she let out a small gasp at the feel of his fingers brushing against her sides. “What are you sorry for, baby?”

“You said we couldn’t do it again, remember?” She tacked on the end of her sentence to jog his memory. As if he had forgotten what he told her in his office a month ago about how they needed to place a boundary. Clearly, it wasn’t going to work so why deny them the pleasure of each other’s company even further?

“Is this what you want?” He pulled her face from his chest, using one of his fingers to support the underside of her chin. At this moment, he wanted eye contact with her, he wanted to make sure she was telling him what she wanted. He didn’t want to guess or have to read between the lines; he had to know. Did she want him?

“I want this,” she puffed out a breath, sleepily fluttering her eyes. “Really, I want this.”

“I think,” he breathes slowly, bringing his finger to her lips and wiping off the residue of his mouth. He had half a mind to leave it there for him to admire under the dim kitchen light, “I want to do this with you too. We just have to be careful.”

“Right,” her sleepy eyes settled upon his brown curls. “No one can find out.”

“It’s not that,” he shook his head and grasped her hands once more, bringing their hands enclosed together to his chest. She could feel the thump of his heart against her chest, “I want to protect you here.” And she knew he meant her heart.

Stars circled around them, enclosing them in their own bubble against the word. It was at this moment she took the time to look at him, really truly see him for what he was. She had done it once before when she first met him, but she tried not to do it again to keep her heart from fluttering at an alarmingly fast rate. But now she felt like she could appreciate his beauty for what it was; she was comfortable with that. Harry’s jaw was sharp and clean-cut like he was cut from stone. The apples of his cheeks were kissed by angels, pink and rosy. His eyes were a clear green, the type of green that flourished in the forest and faeries hid in. He wasn’t just handsome. No, he was more than that. Truly, he was beautiful. A spark twitched in her chest, an appreciation that he wanted her the same way, too.

“Stop looking at me that way,” amusement flickered in his eyes, but longing swam in his bones as her gaze studied the intricacies of his facial features.

Confusion appeared on her face, “What do you mean?”

“Stop lookin’ at me like I hung the moon and the stars, and make the earth spin on its axis.” He was only teasing her, and it was something she was still trying to get used to. Sometimes, Y/N was a very literal person, and couldn’t pick up on teasing or sarcasm on the first go. She had to dissect the conversation a little more before she could be certain teasing and sarcasm were at play.

“I think you did,” she hummed and his chest thumped faster against her hands. Y/N liked that she was making him do that.

Rose-colored blush presented on his cheeks, and with a successful feeling stirring inside her, she pressed a kiss to the tops of each cheek.

“Do you think I could tell Mallory?” If there was one person Y/N wanted to tell, it was Mallory. Well, Niall too, but she knew that she didn’t need to ask Harry about that. It’s not like Niall was one of his TAs too.

“Yes, Sweetheart. I think that would be fine,” without hesitation, his lips collided with hers once more, but the words he murmured when he pulled away caused a breath to catch in her throat, “You’re very pretty.”

____

Tomato sandwiches were currently Y/N’s hyper-fixation meal, and as Mallory talked and Y/N listened (no surprise there), she gnawed on the edge of her sandwich.

The pair had been eating lunch together in the cafeteria. Mallory was fighting a rough breakup, and Josh would not stop texting her. At one point, Mallory handed Y/N her phone and told her to just scroll through. It was a series of apologies, ‘it will never happen again’, and ‘I need you.’ Y/N was proud that Mallory basically told him to swim in the stream of his own tears, then blocked him. After Josh realized Mallory blocked him from texting her, he moved to other forms of communication, but this time he was no longer texting her apologies and they were actually quite alarming messages.

“Do you wanna hear what I think?” Y/N asked before giving unsolicited advice. If Mallory didn’t want to hear what Y/N was thinking, she wouldn’t just spring that information onto her. Through the course of the past couple of weeks, Y/N began collecting her thoughts on the situation. She didn’t want to give advice or put in her two cents prematurely, but as the situation between Mallory and Josh got worse and worse, Y/N was sure her thoughts on him wouldn’t change.

“Of course I do. You’re my friend,” Mallory insisted, waiting for her to give some humbling advice. It wasn’t often Y/N asked Mallory if she could offer her thoughts on the situation. As time went on, Mallory noted that Y/N wasn’t the talkative type. While she always had great things to add to the conversation, if she didn’t want to speak then she wouldn’t. Sometimes Y/N only wanted to listen, and that was okay with Mallory. In truth, Mallory thinks they balanced each other well.

“I think you dodged a bullet,” Y/N said a little loudly over the sound of sports players rushing into the college cafeteria, heavy cleats clicking against the tile sounding louder as they passed by the pair trying to enjoy their lunch in peace. “And you’re my friend, too,” Y/N added at the end there.

“You’re right,” A sorrowful sigh escaped from Mallory’s lips, indicating to Y/N that even though she was right, Mallory was still sad about it. Y/N really, really didn’t want her to be too sad over a guy that was proven to be disgustingly manipulative. Maybe Y/N wasn’t the best judge of character, a little too trusting, but the red flags Josh was displaying toward Mallory were enough for Y/N to know that his intentions were not very good.

“What did you think of my friend Niall?” Y/N asked. After Y/N and Niall got home from their “double date” (she used that term very loosely), Niall wouldn’t stop talking about how funny Mallory was. He kept saying that she was better than the comedian they had all saw before the nightclub came to life, and that next time they should put her on the stage. He also kept saying that she was very pretty, and Y/N noticed the sheepish glances he threw in Mallory’s direction throughout the night.

“He was very fun to be around,” Hesitation was laced in Mallory’s tone, and if Mallory didn’t know any better, she thought Y/N and Niall were finally together. “Are you guys finally together?”

“No! Ugh!” Y/N threw her hands up in exasperation, dropping her tomato sandwich back on the paper napkin she packed in her lunch pale. “I want to set you guys up on a date. I don’t like Niall like that! Actually, I’m seeing someone. He’s not my boyfriend or anything, and he might not even really like me like that, but he likes to kiss me.”

Mallory paused for a moment, scrunching her nose and finally nodding her head in response to Y/N, “I would probably like to go on a date with Niall. If he’s chosen you as a best friend, I know he’s got good taste.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed, “Well, then, good. Because I know Niall would like to go on a date with you.”

Mallory backtracked for a moment, the words Y/N spoke finally processing fully in her head, “Who are you seeing? And, I think the term you’re looking for is hooking up. If you guys don’t actually like each other like that and it's purely physical.”

Purely physical? Is that what she wanted? Y/N brought her voice to a whisper, glancing around to see if anyone was trying to listen in on their conversation (they weren’t) before murmuring, “Harry.”

Mallory’s face didn’t drop in shock, her face didn’t contort with disgust, but her eyes sparked with delight. “You might be the luckiest girl alive.”

____

“Now when you read this concept from the book—”

“Would you go out with me, Mallory, and Niall on Friday? We’re going to play putt-putt, and I’m trying to set them up,” Y/N interrupted him, surprisingly for the first time during their one-on-one lesson today. It wasn’t that she wasn’t paying attention, but about ten minutes ago, she realized her attempt to set Niall and Mallory up was going to turn into her being the third wheel. Now, there was nothing wrong with that, but she had a feeling once Niall and Mallory got their hands on each other, they wouldn’t take them off. If Harry agreed to come along at least she could use him to escape during the date, and it would be fun to see how he gets along with her friends. Obviously, Harry and Mallory get along well in a work-type setting, but she wanted to see how they could get along as simply friends.

With delicacy, he shut the book. If there was one thing Harry could pick up on, it was when Y/N’s brain was becoming overloaded with information. She couldn’t retain an information dump the way he could, so he adjusted to the way she learned best because all he wanted was for her to be as comfortable as possible. Sometimes he thought about the way, with teary eyes, told him she didn’t want him to think she was stupid. He never wanted her to feel that way again.

“Could we make another deal, Darling?” Harry’s fingers grazed the underside of her chin, pushing it up just a tad so he could get a full view of her face. Viewing her face in full was a must for him, he was constantly imagining that face when she wasn’t around.

“I am open to making a deal,” the words came out slowly, her head nodded with each syllable, and she tended to like the deals he made with her because there was always some sort of benefit for the both of them.

“If I come with you to see your friends, would you come with me to see mine on Saturday?” He didn’t want to pressure her into coming. In fact, he thought about asking her but decided against it because he didn’t want her to feel obligated. When she brought up the question about him tagging along with her, Mallory, and Niall, he thought maybe he was in the clear to ask her a similar question about meeting his friends, but then her face fell in what he thought was… Hesitation?

“What’s the occasion?” The pressure was applied to his fingertips as she glanced down at her hands in her lap, and she began picking at the sides of her fingernails. She wanted to meet Harry’s friends, but she was nervous about being around large groups of new people. At least when she hung out in big groups with Niall, she had him around her at all times, and by now, she was so used to Niall’s friends, it wasn’t uncomfortable to strike up a conversation with his pals.

“It’s a wine night. My friend Mitch is hosting this time. It’s basically a small party. We wear nice clothes, drink wine, listen to music, and catch up. It’s proper fun,” Harry was trying to make the environment as calming and fun as possible, realizing the hesitation on her end was just nerves.

“Nice clothes?” She questioned and had to physically stop herself from picking at her nails by grasping at the edge of the table otherwise she would make her skin go raw.

“Not super nice, just not sweatpants and jumpers since it won’t only be our immediate friend group. Sometimes we do that when it’s purely game night, drinks, and a movie,” he explained, and he knew exactly what to say to get her to agree so he added at the end, “I’ll even wear that satin shirt you like. You know, the one that has my tattoos peeking out. The one you drool over.”

With an eye roll and a defeated puff from her lips, she finally gave him the answer he was hoping for, “I’ll go with you.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Y/N stood from the chair and stretched out to rid the aches in her joints from sitting in one position for too long. “Do you think we could watch a movie?”

“Anything for you,” he spoke softly and honestly, the gentle tone ringing in her ear like music. His voice was a symphony made just for her, “You know that.”

____

The words that tumbled from Y/N’s lips in the middle of the movie really caught Harry off guard. It was her delivery, actually, that had him furrowing his eyebrows and asking her to repeat the statement one more time just in case he heard it wrong. It was unprompted, there was no sign indicating that’s how she was feeling (specifically at that exact moment), and the look on her face was of shock like she hadn’t meant to say it; it just kind of slipped out.

“I said,” She cleared her throat and he felt her cheeks heat beneath his fingertips as she spoke. The pair were uniquely sitting on the couch. Harry was sitting with his legs kicked up on the coffee table, and Y/N was sitting with her head in his lap and her legs taking up the rest of the unused couch space. As they were watching the movie, Harry would stroke her cheeks or run his fingers through her hair just to feel her, “I would like to do more than kiss.”

If Harry was trying to keep a composed face, free of shock or confusion, he was almost positive he was failing. His lips and eyes felt too numb to actually realize how he was looking at her. How could he lie and say he didn’t want to do more than kiss either, he just wasn’t sure how to initiate it given their circumstances— and why would he deny her what she wanted?

“What do you want to do, then?” He spoke the words clearly, that lustful tone leaking past his lips and soaking her with it,

“I’m not,” she began, pausing for thought, “As experienced as you, I think.”

Harry nodded, encouraging Y/N to continue. He could tell there was something on the tip of her tongue, the words she was failing to formulate stuck in the back of her throat, begging to come out.

“Well, I just think...” she picked her head off the warmth that was his lap, “You’re very good at teaching. Would you teach me? I want to be good for you.”

It turns out that Harry was going to make her work for it, he was going to make her say the words out loud. His ego was slightly inflated by her gentle words, calling him a good teacher and asking him to teach her. Harry didn’t like assuming, but from what he was understanding, she wanted to teach him how to feel good and make other people feel good. Though, Harry didn’t think she would need much teaching as half the time he has to go close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to will his stiff cock away.

“Teach you what, Darling?” His fingers were grazing the inside of her thighs, telling her he knew exactly what she wanted from him. He was just slightly devilish, wanting to hear the filthy words fall from her lips.

Sighing, she moved her thigh into his touch. Begging, pleading, wanting... “Please don’t make me say it, Harry.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me? Hm?” Harry continued to work his fingers up her thigh until it rested just above the button of her pants where he was waiting to help her out of her pants. At this point, he was no longer assuming, he knew exactly what she wanted; she wanted to hit that sweet spot, she wanted him to get her there, to ride it out on him and hit that euphoric state right in front of him.

With a shuddering breath, she responded, “Yes, yes... I’ll be good. Just please.” Her fingers reached for her button, gently touching Harry’s own fingers, and her pants were off in a matter of seconds. She thinks she heard something about him saying she was so good for begging him for it, but the words didn’t register as he gently pulled her across his lap so that each leg was on either side of her thigh. Her wet center was directly on his thighs, and if she knew any better, she could have come right on the spot.

“Would you look at that?” His fingers strode up her slit covered by the fabric of her white panties, “I can see you straight through your panties, Darling. How long have you been this soaked?”

He prompted her to start rocking against his thigh, so she did as she was told and began moving up and down. The friction was enough to make her let out a noise she had never heard from herself before. As of now, she wasn’t embarrassed, just full of wanting, needing, and lusting. She would be embarrassed by her desire and the sounds she mewled atop his thigh later, but for right now, she just wanted to feel good.

With one quick motion, he was stimulating her clit, making her feel so many things, so many emotions, she could barely handle it. She continued to rock against his thigh, and if she didn’t know any better, he may have shifted his leg upwards so that she was getting the best possible access to his leg. This was going to be her new obsession; she was going to stare at his thigh at school and wonder what it would feel like for him to take her right into his office, she was going to drool over it while they studied and beg him to let her feel good because she can’t focus until he lets her come.

“Those are such pretty noises,” he commented when another moan slipped past her lips and her head threw back as he gripped her hips and brought her closer to his crotch.

She looked down, taking in his cock through his sweatpants. God, he was so pretty. Hard against the fabric of his pants, and the tip was leaking just enough for her to notice through the gray cotton.

He glanced down at what she was staring out, a smirk playing across his lips. She was simply everything. So good, so sweet, so attentive. “You’re gonna come just by looking at my cock through my pants?”

She didn’t have it in her to feel ashamed when she felt this good. All she could think about is how he would feel inside her, how his lips would feel around her neck. Even... how his hands would feel around her neck, claiming her as his own. In response to him, she just moaned and mumbled something— slightly incoherent, it took him a moment to decipher— “Want to feel your cock inside me.”

____

Harry was over the moon with the phrase that tumbled off her lips in her pure, unadulterated need for him. As much as he wanted to give her what she asked for. She was such a good girl, she deserved the whole world. He wasn’t sure how well she would be able to take it now. Y/N was already overstimulated by his thigh and his fingers circling her clit when she let out an unrestrained moan, threw her head back, and her thighs tensed around his, he knew she was going to come. But, he wanted her to hold out, just for a little bit.

He couldn’t help it; she looked so pretty like this. She looked like she was made for him, like a puzzle piece that fit on his thigh so well, there was no possible way the pair weren’t made for each other. Longing glances and looks filled with need had been exchanged by Harry and Y/N for quite some time, sometimes in between classes he’d have to give his cock a proper tug, otherwise, he would have been walking around stiff— and aching— for the rest of the day. He wanted her so much, it was unbelievable. But, Harry wanted her to make the first move, he wanted her to be sure this is what she wanted, and when she finally looked at him with that needy gaze, he knew he had to give her what she asked for.

“You’re not ready for my cock, baby. You’re so needy, hm?” It was slightly condescending, and what did it say about her that tightness in her belly coiled when he called her needy? He was right, she was needy.

“Can I move against your cock the way I am now? With your pants still on? Need it. Really need it,” Her words were jumbled together, separated by moans filled with desire as she moved in up and down motions against his thigh. He knew if he gave her what she wanted, she would come right then and there, as soon as her core touched the hardness of his cock, and maybe he was a little selfish for it, but he wasn’t ready for her to get there.

“That’s not how you ask, Angel. You know your manners. Use them.” The slight reprimand made her toes curl, and when he realized that she liked it; liked being reprimanded and it was definitely getting her off, he stopped her rocking motions by digging his fingers into her hips and giving her a pointed look; the same look he gives her when she’s not paying attention while she’s studying. It sent waves through her, and she felt like she was floating on a cloud.

“How do you ask?” He prompted, encouraging the words he wanted to hear.

“Please, may I?” She tried to rock once more, but his fingers kept her in place. A sensual gaze lingered on her features, looking him up and down like she could swallow him whole, and how could he say no to that?

“Good girl,” he brought her left leg over his other leg so that her pussy was in full contact with his clothed cock. Before she started rutting against him, moaning, and throwing her head back in pure carnal desire, he decided he would give her a little incentive. “If you hold out for me, give me ten more minutes of seeing you look so pretty as you rut this pussy against my cock,” one of his fingers moved from her hip where he was holding her in place to the slit of her pussy and worked it’s way over, slicking his finger with his wetness and popping it in his mouth to see how good she tasted, “I will let you watch while I run my hand over my cock and make myself feel good, hm?”

A jumbled yes came from the back of her throat, and he used his fingers that were against her hips to help her find her rhythm against his cock. He could have come right there at the sight of her, but he was good at holding off, good at edging himself. It was something he wanted to teach her how to do. How to get to that good place, then rip herself away from it. In the end, all of the frustration makes the orgasm worth it.

She tried to last, she tried to make those ten minutes, but she just couldn’t. With a cry, she warned him, “Harry... I can’t. I can’t wait. Please.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Harry comforted, letting her know that it was okay. He would teach her how to stave off soon enough, but right now he was more concerned with her feeling good and comfortable.

That was all it took her to that nice place. As her orgasm filled her body, lingering in her bones and warming her skin, she came against him. Pulling away as her nerves were overstimulated and sensitive, sweat beading at the top of her forehead, and mewling noises coming out of her lips. He thought she looked beautiful.

Quickly, she took herself off of him, not able to handle the overstimulating she was feeling in her core and in her brain. She tried not to look at the wet spot she left on his thigh, and directly on his crotch.

He could tell by the way her eyes averted, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear that she was feeling embarrassed, but he didn’t think she should feel so ashamed for feeling good. She should never be ashamed of that. With a gentle finger, he lifted her chin from her downward stare into her lap and whispered softly, “Don’t ever feel embarrassed about that. Do you see how hard you’ve got me?”

Heat flooded her cheeks, warming her skin, and that coil she felt in her lower belly when she first started grinding against the muscles of his thigh stirred in her once more as she eyed his hard cock covered in her wetness. “I don’t get to watch you now because I didn’t wait?”

How could he deny her what she wanted when she was so, so good for him? Listening attentively, asking politely, and being so sweet to him? “I’ll let you watch. We can call it a consolation prize.”

Heart fluttering, she shifted slightly so she could get a full view of this. His eyes darkened as he slid his sweatpants down just enough to pull his cock out of his boxers. It sprang out, the tip a blissful pink color, and she thinks that her mouth has never watered so badly. He was even bigger than she had been able to realize through his sweatpants, and it all made sense. He was sweet, but calculated and there was a rough edge of confidence laced in the way he speaks. The size of his cock matching the confidence of his personality wasn’t anything that should surprise her.

When Y/N let out a soft, sultry, sweet-coated moan at the sight of his right hand clutching the base of his cock and tugging upwards, Harry realized three things about her that he would dissect later.

Y/N had an extreme praise kink, thinking back to how she sucked in sharp breaths when he told her what a good girl she was, and how she moaned at the sight of her reward.

Y/N got off on a slight reprimand from him, seeking guidance and his stern words fulfilling something deep in the pit of her gut.

Y/N might have been crafted just for him, and he, just for her.

Just the look on her face was enough to make him come on the sight, but she had done so well, he wanted to give her a little bit of a show. With each movement calculated, he lifted his shirt just enough for her to see his abdomen then grabbed the base of himself and stroked upwards, using the precum oozing from the tip as a lubricant for his hand.

“Would you do me a favor, sweet girl?” He asked her, his eyes remaining fixed on her as he watched how her body reacted to his words and movements.

Eyebrows furrowed, she responded so sweetly and sincerely if his eyes were closed, he would have sworn there were droplets of honey dripping off her lips. “Yes,” she almost begged, “What can I do?”

Harry guided her head with his hand, gripping his fingers around the back of her head and lowering it so she was adjacent to the head of his cock. Eagerly, she thought he was going to let her wrap her lips around his so she moved her head a little closer, and when he realized what she thought he wanted from her.

“No, baby, not yet. I just want you to spit on it for me, hm? Let me use your spit to work my cock?” He knew the words were filthy, and he knew it sent a shiver down her spine. She opened her mouth, just a little so closely to the tip of his cock that her top lip just swept over it as the wetness from her mouth dripped down him.

“Fuck, baby,” Harry guided her head back so that she was sitting directly in front of him with a perfect view of how his hand brought him to his own tipping point.

He leaned his head back against the couch, eyes fixated on hers as her gaze didn’t stutter from his hand. A little bit of drool leaked from her lip, but she quickly caught it, finally breaking her gaze from his hand and looking to see if he saw that.

“Quite literally drooling over my cock, are you?” It fueled his ego, working his hand harder over himself as he realized what an effect he had on her.

Finally, he was there, eyes locked on her and reaching his pinnacle. His own sweet spot washed over him, ripping a moan from his throat and filling the living room air. Silky whiteness spurted from the tip of his cock and onto his abdomen, and she had to stop herself from leaning down and tasting him. She just wanted to taste him, but how could she voice that? The combination of wanting to taste him, the way his face contorted with pleasure, and the sound of his deep-provocative moan that gathered in the back of his throat and then filled her ears worked her back into that sweet place with no stimulation from Harry or even herself. As he worked himself down from his own orgasm, guilt washed over her face and he couldn’t help but give her a lazy-half smile. “What?” He asked gently.

“I think...” She shoved her face in her hands, the bashful person she was shining through what they had just done together, “I reached that spot again when you let that sound out. I just, I just felt so good.”

Eyes fluttering shut, he took in her words. “Baby, I’m so happy you felt so good. When was the last time you felt like that?”

Y/N just shakes her head, the words caught in her throat. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like that with anyone else— even... even myself.”

He just smiled, glad that he was able to get her there, and then hooked his hand under the backside of her knee, pulling her close for a sweet and simple kiss compared to what they have just done. While his lips were still pressed against his, he spoke, “I think we should get cleaned up.”

“I think so too,” Y/N smiled into the kiss, and Harry thought he would give up anything to stay like this with her forever. Talking with their lips pressed together, his hands all over her, and her hands all over him.

“Would you mind taking a shower with me?” It sounded so intimate rolling off his tongue, but that’s what he wanted with her—intimacy.

“I would love that,” his heart leaped at the realization that she wanted the same things as him.

____

“I’m a bit of a sore loser, baby, so please tell me you’re good at putt-putt,” Harry said as his hand grasped the steering wheel of the car. He was driving them to putt-putt golf with Mallory and Niall. Niall had decided he would take Mallory out to lunch before the other two joined them to get some one-on-one time together.

Y/N noticed a shift in their relationship after he had made her orgasm twice without doing much, and after she watched him tug away at his cock. She was more comfortable with him, more open to asking him questions, and Harry absolutely loved it. Just a few days ago, she asked him (without Harry having to work the question out of her) when she could taste him, and he told her, in the most gentle way possible, that he wanted to go slowly. He just wanted to make it special for her.

At first, she was nervous to ask him when she could taste him, not quite sure how she could voice the question, but as a few days passed, she realized that there was never any judgment or harshness in Harry’s tone.

“Well, I’m not very good at putt-putt. And maybe I’d like to see you a little pouty,” she reasoned with him. She always felt like she was the pouty one, maybe it would be a nice change of pace to see him pouting for once.

“Y/N, you know I could never be pouty around you. You make me too happy.” Harry explained, taking one hand off the steering wheel and linking their fingers together, and bringing her hand to his lap.

Y/N decided she was just going to enjoy the drive, and the simplicity that was her, Harry, Niall, and Mallory enjoying their afternoon together.

As it turns out, Y/N was really good at putt-putt, though she had never played before in her life. Niall and Harry got to talking about how they both liked playing real golf and made plans to go out some weekends together. It made Y/N’s heart turn, just a little to see her best friend getting along with Harry so well. They seemed like they were really hitting off (and not to Y/N’s surprise at all, she knew this would happen, Niall and Mallory were very much enjoying the company of one another). By the end of the night, they were sharing drinks and then spent the night tucked into Harry’s chest.

Y/N was happy. Very happy.

____

Y/N was not happy.

Harry’s friends were not as nice as he had explained them to be. Well, maybe it was just one friend that left a sour taste in her mouth and made her stomach fizzle with anger; possibly even jealousy.

The evening started off great. She wore a simple, yet elegant, midnight green dress, and Harry (as promised) wore that cream-colored satin shirt with midnight green slacks to match her accordingly. He ogled over her the minute she stepped out of his room wearing that green dress, looking as lovely as ever.

When Harry was done swooning and gawking over her, he led her out to his car and began driving in the direction of his friend’s house. Y/N noted the beautiful scenery on the way to the house, and when Y/N finally commented on the scenic drive, Harry explained that his friend lived in a winery.

“On a winery?” Y/N questioned, making simple conversation as they drove up a windy road with a narrow pathway, barely able to fit two cars. “Is your friend a vintner?”

Harry nodded in response, throwing over the occasional glance as he drove, though it made Y/N nervous for him to take his eyes off the road ahead of them. She trusted him though and didn’t make any comments about how the drive was making her feel. Part of her didn’t want to say anything because she wasn’t sure if the drive was making her feel a little queasy or if it was the fact that she was going to a party latched onto Harry’s arms. She was about to meet his closest friends, and even though he said they were nice, she knew she would be under a degree of scrutiny. She was coming as his date, of course, they were going to look at her with cautious-watchful eyes, so they could reconvene later in the night and ask one another, what do ya think of Harry’s new girl?

Before Y/N even knew it, they were parked in a round-a-bout driveway, and Harry was helping her out of the car. She must have paled on the drive up, because when he took her hand in his, and lead her up the stairs of the beautiful home, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, pressing his lips against the lobe, “Feeling okay?”

A nod came from her in response, and before she could even respond verbally, the person who was lingering on the other side of the door quickly threw it open. A chill ran down Y/N’s spine as she thought of Harry’s lips against her ear. They hadn’t done anything from when they sat on the couch and Y/N came on his clothed cock. She had brought up how she wanted to taste him, but they haven’t had the chance to yet, and Harry had told her that he wanted to take things a little slow. She understood. How could she argue with that?

“Oh, come on in before you two get cold out there,” the man standing on the opposite side of the door said to them as he noted the chill that racked through Y/N’s body. It wasn’t the cold wind, though the wind was colder than it had been these past couple of Spring days. It was the thought of Harry’s lips against her ear, and when she looked over at Harry and saw the way his lips curved upward in a devilish grin, she knew exactly what his plan was. He did that on purpose, he was trying to work her up.

Like Harry told her, the man lived in a winery and before she even had the chance to learn his name (it was Mitch she found out a few minutes later), he was thrusting a glass of red wine in between her fingers. She took a couple sips, mumbling something about how it was sweet, and without hesitation, Harry leaned and whispered something naughty in her ear, causing heat to flood her face and between her legs, “I bet you taste sweet, baby.”

They mingled, and Y/N who normally felt overwhelmed in situations like these was actually doing alright. It might have been the way the wine was starting to flow through her veins, or how genuinely kind Harry’s friends actually were (not that she doubted him very much, but you never know), but she was actually enjoying her time.

Well, she was enjoying her time until Harry ruined it by whispering the filthiest things she’s ever heard into her ears. In fact, she was beginning to feel flustered, because she wasn’t sure her panties could handle another bout of wetness before it started dripping down her leg. Her dress only hit below her knee, so if it began running down her leg, people were bound to notice and she didn’t think she could handle the shame.

So, she stood there, with her legs crossed, wine glass in her hand, and pouted. He could tell he got her there; to the point of frustration that she would burst at any second. Her responses to him were becoming short and pointed, bratty even. If there was one thing Harry could teach her, it was how not to be a brat. It was how to ask for what you wanted because all she had to do was say the words and he’d take her right into the bathroom and let her have that release.

When they had finally broken free from the conversation they were having with Mitch and… Well, Y/N actually didn’t grab the other person’s name because of the frustration filling her from head to toe, Harry grabbed her upper arm gently and pulled her so close to him that her chest was pressed against his, “Won’t you tell me why you’re acting like a brat?”

Disappointment donned her features. Was she acting like a brat as he said? If so, she really didn’t mean to, she just couldn’t help it. The words fumbled from her mouth quickly as she straightened her back just a little bit so that her body language didn’t look so dejected, “Sorry. I don’t mean to act like a brat.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology,” he stated and the sternness in his voice made her core ache even more than it already was, “I asked for you to tell me why.”

She gave in to his request, hoping that if she told him why she was acting like a brat, he would tell her what a good girl she was for listening. “I’m so wet, Harry.”

His cock throbbed against his slacks, and he murmured softly against her neck, pressing a soft kiss just under her ear, “So instead of acting like a brat, what should you have done?”

“I should have told you what was bothering me,” she guessed, not quite sure what the actual answer was, but it seemed good enough for him because his response was exactly what she was begging for.

“Good girl,” he pulled away from her, resting his fingers just under her chin, and hummed out, “Now should I take care of you?”

She only nodded.

____

The bathroom of the house was big enough to fit them both in there and when Harry sat her on top of the bathroom counter and hiked her dress out, he grumbled out a “Fuck, Y/N.”

She wasn’t being dramatic when she said she was so wet. If he kept her out there for five more minutes, she would have dripped down her leg, and Harry doesn’t know what it says about him the fact that that turns him on so greatly. For his friends to see just how much of a reaction she has to him. How his words can get her mewling and thrashing and moaning.

Quickly, he tugged her panties off and shoved them into his pocket. She was still up on the counter, watching his movements with lust-filled eyes, and leaking onto his wrist that he had pressed against her center. His hand was gripping the counter, the inside of his wrist pressing against her and when he moved, even slightly, she would let out small, sharp gasps. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” she responded, and that was all he needed before he began working her to that special spot. His fingers, covered in rings, slipped inside her slowly, so slowly it was agonizing. He didn’t need her to lick his fingers, offering that extra lubricant because she was so wet that she was soaking the counter. He flicked his fingers upward, hitting that soft spot inside her, and when he finally found it, her eyes widened, as she had never been stimulated there before. It only took a few motions in and out of her, before her walls began squeezing around his fingers. Right before she was about to come, about to hit the peak of her orgasm, he pulled his fingers out of her.

Eyebrows furrowed, she questioned his actions, “Why did you do that?”

“I’m not ready for you to orgasm just yet,” he said softly, his green eyes glimmering with want and need.

“Please?” She asked, “I-I need it!”

Normally, she would feel embarrassed by her begging, but right now she didn’t have it in her to feel embarrassed. The only thing she had in her was that she wanted that orgasm to encompass her, sending her body to that place she went when she was rutting against her thigh.

She was so beautiful and so lovely that he couldn’t deny her of that, and he knew it, so he slipped his fingers back into her with careful precision and stimulated that soft spot inside her once more. She let out soft moans filled with nothing but desire, and she squeezed around his fingers once more before letting her orgasm rip through her. He worked her down with his fingers, and when she looked up at him with a sleepy gaze, he knew she was feeling much better; the frustration completely obliterated from his body.

Although, when he brought his fingers, covered in her wetness to his lips, licked it off with his tongue, and said, “I was right. You do taste sweet,” she thinks she could have gone again.

Harry helped her get her panties back on, and hop off the counter of the bathroom, promising that when they got home he was going to help her shower the stickiness from in between her thighs and take good care of her. She knew she was safe with him, and it was possibly one of her favorite feelings in the entire world.

“Why don’t you go back out there, love? I’ll clean up here and be right out.” He bargained with her, and she followed his instructions because it probably wouldn’t look too good if the both of them slipped from the bathroom at the same time.

Harry’s plan was to clean up, but he had to relieve himself somehow too.

____

Y/N’s eyes searched the room, and she found the girl she was chatting with earlier— Colette was her name, she finally remembered and blamed the sexual frustration on her jumbled brain and her post-orgasmic state on her clarity over Colette’s name.

Across the room, Colette sat with a few other girls, and Y/N thought that the best thing to do while Harry was cleaning up in the bathroom was to make her way over there and hop in the conversation, so that is exactly what she did.

She sat directly next to Colette, and jumped into their conversation a few times, adding a few things here and there to keep herself present in the conversation. It wasn’t until Harry finally slipped from the bathroom, signaling that he was going to get them a drink that she felt a sense of relief.

One of the girls next to Colette’s eyes followed Y/N’s to Harry and when she saw what Y/N was looking at she interjected with a, “Don’t even bother with him. He’s a nice guy, but he’s not the relationship type. He only fucks, but nothing else. Trust me, I’ve tried. Also, the rumor is that he brought a girl with him this time around, and good luck to her, because she doesn’t know what she’s in for.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open in pure shock, and Colette’s face whitened as she grasped Y/N’s hand, “Emma!” Colette said in a harsh whisper, “Why would you say that?”

Colette helped Y/N up, and Y/N couldn’t even feel mad at the girl— Emma, she guessed— because it was not like she knew that Y/N was the girl Harry brought along with him tonight. Her stomach dropped, feeling icky and displaced as she walked alongside Colette and toward the kitchen where Harry was striking up a conversation with someone, two cans of some liquid Y/N couldn’t quite pinpoint in the palm of one of his hands— his big, big hands.

“Don’t listen to her, she’s just cross because Harry only wanted to be friends with benefits with her. That is not how he is with every girl, I hope you know that,” Colette whispered, guiding her by the small of her back toward Harry.

Did Y/N know that? She didn’t think she did.

What if that is what Harry wanted from her? What if he felt nothing for her at all? What if she was merely a conquest for him?

Y/N decided not to say anything about what Emma said to her as Y/N and Colette entered the conversation Harry was currently participating in.

Harry rested one of the drinks on the counter and popped open the other with his fingers, handing it to her, then pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Was that a good sign?

For the first time since she began studying with Harry, Y/N felt stupid again.

____

Harry was completely oblivious to the internal turmoil Y/N was facing, but how could he have known when she slipped on a mask so well?

After he had finished up in the bathroom, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Y/N was the only thing that occupied his mind. He filled her thoughts, her scent infiltrated his apartment, and her smile when she walked into his class was the thing that kept him going on days when he was more tired than he should have been.

He thought he made it so obvious how much he cared for her. There was no way she didn’t know how special she was to him.

Y/N, he thinks, was perfect for him. And he was perfect for her.

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beacarrot · 4 months ago

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When some feeling is so big and high it doesn't even fit in the chest, let alone in lines in a notebook or on an internet blog. I get lost more than I'd like to admit, letting current events just pass by, have you ever heard of the girl who got trapped in her illusion? It's as if time doesn't pass for her, she's 15 inside her fantasy... that's me, and maybe you too!

I'm in my secret garden, where the only key to get in there is mine. The flowers are more colorful, the sun is brighter, time doesn't passes, the seasons are penetrating, the promises are silent, and the bridges of songs rescue our souls from the cold river.

I really like Tumblr for several reasons, one of which is that there are many "safe place" profiles. Besides, I feel free to post my adoration and passion for the things that I like and that make me happy, make my eyes shine, my heart race like a teenager in love!

One Direction is one of those things, probably the one that makes me most ecstatic.

I met the band when I was 14, I was entering adolescence, a dangerous territory, a lawless land, disappointments, broken hearts, complexes, I can't go into too many details, but a road not paved with only gold. But when this world hurt me too much, I needed to run, and live here and there for a little while, in my little secret world, in which I reserved my romanticism and unfinished analogies. I spend most of the year there, because I hate it here (just kidding, I don't actually hate it here, it was just an excuse to use a Taylor quote LOL)

One Direction (and the fandom) presented me with valuable things, treasures, magazines, CDs, thousands of Pinterest boards, fanfics, Wattpad, silly memes about the band, but they made me laugh a lot. The lyrics of the songs, the affection between the boys and their fans, every particularity of these special boys that warms our hearts!

Five years, five albums, five magical kids! (that's why five is my lucky number).

The band split up, but these five years and the legacy they left were so incredible, every show, every smile, every life saved, that I honestly believe they will still come back, but until that happens they deserve a rest, they deserve get to know each other.

But they made and make my adolescence worth it, for made me feel loved, I feel alive loving something as valuable as them. They remind me of my innocent and naive times, and that I don't need to grow up inside, and I'm grateful for every adventure with them, every time I turned on my computer and spent hours and nights reading fanfics LOL!

They are our teenage dream, they are our inspiration...it doesn't matter that we never touched them, we will be Wendy and they will be our Peter Pan.

And I will wait at the window for their return, to fly to the land of dreams, our private Neverland.

Happy 14 years of One Direction!

Signed: Beatriz <3

23/07/2024.

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imagine-that-one-thing · 7 months ago

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The manuscript || Chapter One

This manuscript, previously known as Her Majesty, now titled The Glass Veil, represents countless hours of revision and transformation. Scenes and characters, along with their entwined plots, have been reshaped and refined. It's my hope that you, as a reader, derive as much joy from experiencing this story as I have found in crafting it.

In the opulent yet perilous corridors of the royal palace, a story of love, deceit, and power unfolds with Anastasia at its heart. Once a commoner, her sudden and secretive betrothal to Harry promised a fairy tale ending. But behind the gilded doors lies a web of intrigue. Her Father and Parliment, cunning and ambitious nobles, expose Anastasia's sanity as a strategic deception aimed at barring her ascent to power. As her coronation approaches, Anastasia finds herself ensnared in a political chess game with the throne and her life at stake. Each player is ruthless, each move more dangerous than the last. With her legitimacy questioned and enemies closing in, Anastasia must navigate the treacherous waters of royalty to prove her worth not just as a monarch but as a leader worthy of her people's loyalty. In this gripping tale of betrayal and survival, the line between ally and adversary blurs, and the crown's weight tests the bounds of love and loyalty. Will Anastasia rise to reign as queen, or will the machinations of those around her lead to her undoing?

Word count: 3,230

Master Link || Chat with me

•••

Two-hundred and nineteen thousand— That's how many hours it has taken to get to the inevitable dreaded moment— a moment of despair.

During my childhood, I spent countless hours exploring the vast gardens and hidden rooms of the magnificent manor. It was a world of endless wonder and excitement, for a kid, where every corner held a new adventure. The privilege of having the latest fashionable clothing and receiving a top-notch education added to the enchantment of my upbringing. An enchantment presumed by those looking in, an enchantment viewed to me as a disservice. By the age of five, I was already considered bilingual, a testament to the extraordinary opportunities that surrounded me. Growing up among influential individuals, including parliament members and future leaders, painted my world with shades of prestige and influence. As the seasons changed, so did our abode, and one of my fondest memories was residing in Hillsborough Castle, nestled in the picturesque County Down. The sprawling 100-acre gardens became my playground, where I would lose myself in nature's embrace. Even though my security team might have groaned at my endless playfulness, those moments of freedom and exploration shaped the essence of my childhood.

Picture this: a glorious manor with gardens that stretch as far as the eye can see. Every nook and cranny of those rooms held secrets waiting to be discovered. The secrets that those rooms hold are rarely spoken of, nor have they been fully disclosed. There are hidden nooks and crannies, stumbling upon forgotten artefacts and family secrets. Some rooms have secret passageways, concealed behind bookshelves or ornate tapestries. Others hold hidden compartments, revealing long-lost letters and intriguing history. The Palace is like stepping into a world of intrigue and adventure, where every corner whispers stories of the past, both good and bad. Secrets that slowly reveal themselves in the worst of lights.

Then there's Windsor Castle, established on an immense hill next to the River Thames, 20 miles west of London. My time spent at Windsor is normally during Easter, during Royal Ascot and the Order of the Garter in June, and during Christmas, depending on my parents ' schedules. Windsor is old, Windsor Castle is the oldest and largest inhabited castle in the world, to be quite frank, it creeps me out. There are over 10 royal monarchs buried in St. George's Chapel, which is located in the Lower Ward of the castle and it bothers me every time I have to stay there. There are dungeons at Windsor Castle that were used as bomb shelters during WWII. It's hard to believe there was a time when the empires were under attack and Windsor stood tall with its war chambers. Chambers that were also used for torture.

Everything is mapped out on the palace grounds, everything besides the war chambers. Not many people are aware of the chambers, only the King, Queen and security personnel know where they are. I know by default, a story I will not dive into right now.

The role of the chambers in facilitating torture has been neglected for centuries and overlooked by many. Torture was used to extract confessions from those accused of crimes years ago, they were also used as hostages to barter amongst other nobles. Torture was more highly organised and more widespread during the Spanish Inquisition times. Torture is what we are going through but in a more modern era.

Prisoners could be tied to chairs and cut or pierced with implements, they could be stretched on a rack or submerged in water, and some methods even included exposing a victim to the elements or making use of rats.

Despite the endless travel, the odd childhood perspectives, and the random knowledge of the castles I have collected over the years, things have been relatively tranquil and extraordinary-ish.

Up until now...

I am surrounded by members of royalty, including dukes, princes, princesses, duchesses, and baronesses. They have all gathered here at my mother and father's request, particularly my mother who enjoys hosting informal meetings in the palace. While many people find joy in hosting events, I am not one of them. I have been involved in hosting events since I was a child. I remember sneaking away from the maids and staff to peer over the stairs and admire everyone's beautiful attire. I used to dream of the day when I could be the centre of attention. However, now that I am in that position, I long for simpler times when I could run freely in the gardens without worrying about what hat was appropriate for each occasion. I know what is about to happen, I may be naive, but I know all too well how this is about to go. "Kensington Palace can now publicly announce additional details about the forthcoming tour of Belgium this spring. We now know that the tour will begin in April. The visit to Belgium will allow us to continue a relationship between two Royal Families by meeting The King and Queen. This tour, coming shortly will also allow, Princess Anastasia Annette, Duchess of Edinburgh, to begin her royal duties as soon to be, her Royal Highness, Queen of England."

And there it is, the epitome of a surprise welcoming to my reign.

I stare at my Father as he announces the plans for the next few weeks, plans that are about to change my life. By my father, the King of England, expressing his not directly worded and unknown, abdication means that I will be reining sooner than I had thought, sooner than I had wanted. I thought I had years to go. Most Kings rule until their deathbed. I stand statue-like, unaware of how it is deemed okay to announce the news without telling me first. It isn't even direct, I have to read between the lines to see what he is doing. I am sure they had to go through the Kensington Palace publicist to do this.

Then again, the King outranks everyone and can deem anything acceptable.

I hadn't intended to begin my royal duties so soon. I don't want the duties of Queen at all. I don't want to be Queen, I thought I made that relatively clear. My Father was misguided by my responses and unwilling nature to detour this moment with every moment possible.

Everyone has this impression that having a royal title is a blessing and an achievement everybody who isn't born into it desires. Every girl dreams of becoming a princess and wearing the tiara. Still, royalty isn't about carrying a crown and parading around in lovely gowns that cost more than the average apparel. Being born into royalty and not having a typically normal life, in my opinion, is more of a curse than a blessing.

As someone with a title, I've had to mature faster than most. My tea parties were not like those of other children; mine included teddy bears and a security guard keeping a close eye on me. I'm held to higher standards and there are days when I wish those expectations would lessen. I don't want to follow royal protocol for every occasion or ensure that my hair is perfectly brushed for the Queen's Sunday morning breakfast. I don't want to constantly be shadowed by a security team or use secret tunnels to move around the palace unnoticed. I never asked for my title, and while it comes with power, I don't want to be defined by it. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to represent the family name within the monarchy.

It would have been more considerate to inform me in another manner, but the king and queen felt this was appropriate. Sometimes, they forget that their roles as monarchs should not interfere with their duties as parents.

After my father's speech, the guests mingle and discuss various topics. I often overhear interesting conversations, but amidst the glamour and formality, it can be difficult to find genuine connections.

I smile graciously as my father and Uncle come towards me. For a moment, I think about travelling in the opposite direction, but I know I can't, it would be too informal and cause too much of a scene.

God forbid the princess ever makes a scene.

"Anastasia," my father grins, giving me his signalled glare that is a good indication that he wants me to stay and not run off like my thoughts want me to.

"Father," I respond courteously, my eyes side-eyeing towards my security guard who is observing intently as he stands with his back to the wall, his hands folded in front of him as he stands tall with nystagmic eyes. I swear his eyes never miss a beat.

"Princess Anastasia, it's an honour to see you again," Syrus smiles sarcastically.

Syrus isn't the typical Uncle who chased me around the fields and played hide and seek— Well, he did— But it was not accompanied by a doting uncle full of love for his niece. It was more hatred and disgust. His hide and seek included leaving me hidden in a storage room for an hour.

I hold back the heavy sigh that's desiring to escape my lips and I force myself to proffer him a genuine smile, "It's nice to see you." I lie through my teeth to save myself from having to listen to my father express his disappointment in me.

"I hear you're becoming Queen soon." He mutters bitterly.

"She is, and every Queen needs a King by her side." My Father presses.

"Actually—" I begin, but I stop when I see my father's eyes narrow to crinkled stilts and his lips purse into a fine line. I am forced to bite my tongue on my true thoughts, "Actually, every good Queen needs a well-fitted crown," I half-heartedly joke, attempting to recover from the fact I want to tell him a Queen doesn't require a King, it's merely just suggested a Queen has a King.

My Uncle chuckles, "I'm sure they'll see fit to your crowning needs." ... "I think you are doing fine to stay single."

"Mhm," I hum, unsure of what more to say.

I swallow hard the moment my father and Uncle walk away and I finally have a minute to breathe and process the things that have occurred.

I make my way around the crowd of individuals and wander out of the ballroom area, I must escape. If I flea now, I could probably leave the Palace before I am stopped. "Princess," I hear my name being called but I don't want to turn around and face the music. Damnit, he is always on my fucking heels. "Princess," the voice again summons and I can't help but disregard him.

"Princess Anastasia, stop right there," the tone of voice my bodyguard uses causes me to stop, and it's not out of fear or because of the fact he only has to say one word before the whole palace is in lockdown and I can't move. It's because I know that tone of voice anywhere, it's sincere and it's laced with nothing but concern.

I turn around on my heel as my bodyguard shifts his eyes around, "Where are you going?" He knows exactly where I am going— anywhere but here.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug. I don't have a destination— it is more so me hammering my heels against the marble flooring until I find some common ground where I can ultimately breathe again. "You know you can't roam the palace right now."

I don't think he understands I do not care about protocol and the boundaries inflicted upon me.

"Yes," I sigh, "I know the rules and the protocol and the safety precautions," I murmur with a heavy breath. Fuck the precautions. Fuck this monarchy.

His eyes relax, and he glimpses around to make sure we are alone before he clears his throat, "What's wrong?"

I inhale a deep breath and blow out slowly, "I can't talk about it here," I respond in a whisper, my eyes already beginning to gloss over as the rippling thoughts of everything hitting me all at once.

He nods and examines the area around us, "Come with me," he instructs, tenderly urging his hand to the small of my back before escorting me away.

We stay reserved as we walk a few halls and pass several doors to various quarters while he keeps his integrity and stays alert.

We stop at the all-so-familiar place of the balcony, and he opens the doors and enables me to step out before he is right behind me and closes the doors. "We aren't allowed here."

"Never stopped us before," he responds, "Everyone is down in the West Wing. This is the East, and there's a guard right below us. I'm trained, you know?"

I nod and chuckle, I am aware he is trained for a reason, the man is trained in the use of firearms and unarmed combat, advanced driving and emergency first aid as well as close protection basics; I have all faith in him. I shouldn't, but I do.

There's a reason he's my bodyguard, he's intelligent, he has swift reflexes and he knows every position of every security member in every residence of ours. Let's not forget I have seen him practising with the 9mm Glock 17 pistols— the man is more accurate than my father— and my father has quite the shot.

I take a moment to lean against the balcony railing, my gaze fixed on the gardens below. The moonlight dances on the petals of the flowers, casting a dreamlike shimmer. The tranquillity of the night envelops me for the first time, and I can't help but feel a sense of awe at the beauty that surrounds me. It's a scene that feels straight out of a fairy tale—- a fairytale that I don't want to be in.

"Congratulations on becoming Queen so soon." He is sarcastic and raises a brow, "Didn't know that was going to come up, did you? Thought I'd be told."

I shake my head, "No, I didn't. Thank you for your concern, I don't need your judgment, too."

There's too much involved with it. I don't think I can physically do this. It's easy for someone to say they want to be a Princess or a Queen because it's made out to be a glamorous lifestyle but it comes with harbouring a lot of stress and responsibilities.

I can't expect anyone to understand what's surging through my thoughts at the concept of reining a country. But I can expect him to be a little bit more understanding. We all knew the inevitable was coming,

"Anastasia, I will never fully understand this world, but—"

I cut Harry off, promptly, "There are no buts, Harry!" I raise my voice. "What do you think comes after he hands me the damn crown? A Queen who reigns alone? No. They don't want me to rule, they want to roll the stone and push me into silence."

Britain has had several monarchs through the centuries, though far more Kings than Queesn have ruled. There have been eight reigning Queens.

How many of them ruled without a King?

One. Elizabeth I, Queen of England and Ireland.

Harry grows withdrawn for a moment, his eyes fading to grey as he comes to realise just what I'm trying to tell him. Me becoming Queen abolishes mine and his relationship.

He's not royalty.

The monarch and the people wouldn't regard him as fit to be King, they don't regard me as fit to be Queen.

"Well, do you want me to propose now or later?" Harry questions in a joking way. His humour perhaps being the only thing to come to mind with this matter.

I roll my eyes, "You are not ready for that torture."

"You sure? I might have a torture kink," he responds cheekily and I shake my head.

It is over now. It was fun while it lasted.

"I guess this is where it ends," I heavily sigh, looking over at him with regret.

Regret is one hell of a hard pill to swallow. It sinks itself in the bottom of my heart, occasionally twisting like a knife, a grave reminder that wearing my heart on my sleeve and putting emotion over logic is tragic. I shouldn't have started this. I should have been wiser, and more diligent with my emotions and how I decided to spread them between us. I should have had more sense than drag him into something he cannot be accepted into.

Harry's hand falls to the small of my back, "Do I get a say in any of this?"

"No," I respond, holding back a small smile.

He chuckles, "You've lost your damn mind if you think I don't," he whispers in my ear quietly.

Before I can respond, his hand moves swiftly from its position on my back, and I feel his body shift. I glance over my shoulder to see my mother standing in the doorway, a martini glass in her hand. "Did I interrupt?" she mischievously smiles, gliding the olive off her toothpick with her teeth before indulging in the flavour of it. A stout vodka martini with an olive— her signature drink.

"Always," I respond with a smile. This woman is always lurking in the shadows, she sees everything and she knows everything— I am not fully convinced that she isn't aware of the fling between me and the security personnel.

She raises a brow before looking Harry up and down, "You're with me," she points towards him, "I don't like who's on my service. He keeps taking my drinks," she informs us.

"What makes you think I won't?" Harry questions.

"You're higher up in command, you're handsome— not stupid," my mother responds. "Chop-chop, I have a bartender waiting, and a crowd of people I need to pretend to like."

My mother is a quiet Queen consort. She is loved by everyone in the public, and she attends almost all events, but she chooses to stay quiet. She's the one who is usually sipping on gin or vodka in the corner, watching and observing. A lot of the time, dignitaries and higher-ranking officials choose to gravitate towards my father and me— they leave her alone— much to her liking, at least that is how it seems.

Why she remains so silent, I cannot say. She is a brilliant woman, one whose potential is vast enough to command a reign so formidable she would be feared across lands. Yet her quietude suggests a subtler strategy, a silence imposed not by her own choosing but by the machinations of those who fear her ascent to power.

"Come on, Princess, it's time to go back," Harry opens the door for me with a warming smile painting across his lips. He's cheerier than I am. "I'll burn this monarchy to the ground before I let it destroy us," he whispers just for us to hear. While he gets to watch my mother sip vodka and slither towards the back of the crowds undetectable by most, I get thrown into the lion's den, head first.

Will he really burn it down for me? I hope so. I would like to see it burn and end it all.

♔♔♔

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