#Harry styles romance

[cinemastyles-blog]

Private Affair [h.s] | 1.

Warnings: there really isn’t for this chapter, other than flirting while married, possible sexual innuendos

Word count: 5.4k

You roll over and extend your arm out, only to find that you're the only one in bed.

You let out a sigh, remembering that you and your husband, Alex, are probably still dealing with the aftermath of last nights argument.

Alex came home, slightly drunk and let's just say that drunk minds speak sober thoughts, and he was screaming his.

You kick the blankets off and swing your legs over the edge as you sit up.

You grab your sweater and put it on as you make your way to the kitchen, "Morning." You mumble lowly to Alex, who is leaning against the counter with a an open magazine.

It's silent as you get your coffee made up. It's almost that awkward silence where you don't know what to do or say to break it.

"I'm sorry." He says with a sigh and you look over at him, "Why are you sorry?"

He sets his cup down and turns towards you, "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that last night. I came home after having a few beers in the parking lot with the guys after work and the boss just gave us all a pay cut and I just had a moment and I'm sorry."

You purse your lips together and nod, "I appreciate your apology. I just asked you for one thing and you exploded on me, I didn't know what to say."

He reaches out and gently drags his hand up your back, "I understand. It's okay, but do you?"

You nod, "I do, just please.. don't ever drink and drive or yell at me like that again." You glance over at him.

He nods, "I promise." He looks down at his watch, "Oh shit. I gotta go." He steps towards you and presses his lips to your temple.

"It's nine already?" You look at the stove clock and raise your eyebrows.

"Hey." He leans in and smiles, "They'll be stupid not to hire you." You smile and nod, pursing your lips for him to kiss you.

"I'm banking on having a celebration dinner tonight.." he walks over to grab his bag, "I love you."

You smile, "I love you, have a good day, sweetie." He smiles and nods, "You too."

You smile and wave as he leaves your shared apartment, leaving you alone for your worries to eat you alive.

You applied for a position at Alluring Mag, which is one of your all time favorite magazine companies.

They're all about pleasure and what is considered 'in season' for bedroom wear and so much other stuff, and you and every other woman that that you know, eat it up every month it comes out.

You walk over and plop down on the couch, sighing as you stare at your phone's dark screen as it lays beside you.

"No, I'm not going to stress." You tell yourself and turn the tv on. You click through the options and glance back over at your phone.

You let out a sigh and get up, starting to do things to keep yourself from going crazy.

You start to clean. Wiping down the counter tops, sweeping the floors, laundry. You try to vacuum, but you were afraid you wouldn't hear your phone ring, even though it was in your hand.

You look at the clock and frown as it's only eleven thirty.

Just before you really start to drive yourself insane, you decide to go for a shower and  as you walk in to turn the shower on,

You hear your ringtone start to play.

You sprint out of the bathroom and go to your phone, picking it up to see that it's a number that isn't saved.

You take a deep breath before answering with a calm, hopeful, "Hello?"

"Is y/n y/l/n there?"

"This is she." You nod to yourself, "How can I help?"

"Well y/n. My name is Charlene and I am calling from Alluring Mag in regards to getting you in for an interview."

Your mouth opens and you close your eyes, trying your best to stay cool, "Yes, yes of course. What days are available?"

She hums and you can hear pages being flipped around in the back, "One moment, please."

"Of course." You put the phone on speaker and mute yourself, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!" You cheer to yourself before taking a calming breathe, "Okay."

You unmute yourself just as she starts talking, "So, y/n, you are coming in for a different position. My boss, aka, the company's CEO, went through and picked out some applicants who he thought would be a good fit for a specific position." She pauses, "His assistant."

Your lips part and you honestly don't know what to say, "Um. Yes. That's perfectly fine."

"Great. So he wants to meet with all three of you as soon as possible, so if you can meet to-"

"Tomorrow is great." You cut her off, "Oh, I'm so sorry." You lay a hand on your forehead as the embarrassment settles in.

She chuckles, "It's okay, dear. Is two in the afternoon good for you?"

"Two is good for me, yes. Thank you so much." You bite your lip and smile.

"Not a problem, see you tomorrow." She hangs up and you stand there in shock, "Oh my god."

You quickly dial your husbands number, "Pick up. Pick up." You whisper as you listen to each ring.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Alex. Hey. I just got off the phone with Alluring Mag and they want me to come in tomorrow for an interview."

"I told you!" He says, "That's great, y/n!"

"To potentially be the CEO's assistant." You bite your lip, waiting for him to speak.

"The CEO? baby. That's.. that's freakin' amazing!" He sighs, "I'm so proud of you. I knew we were having that dinner tonight."

"You definitely called it, that's for sure." You pace back and fourth, unable to contain your excitement, "I'm so excited."

"You deserve this, baby. You will do amazing tomorrow and I will remind you of that until you get there." You can tell Alex is smiling on the other end of the phone.

"I might call up Sage, see what she's doing. I need to get an outfit, so maybe we'll go shopping." You put him on speaker and text her,

You: Are you busy? I got some news! Need to go shopping today!!

"Alright, honey. That's fine. I'll be home probably around four but take your time."

You hear talking in the back and it doesn't sound good, "I'll let you go. I love you, see you later."

"I love you." Alex says before hanging up.

You see if Sage texted you back,

Sage: I'll be ready in twenty.

── •✧• ──

You beep the car horn as you pull into the driveway, putting it in park while you wait.

Soon enough, you see Sage run down her porch steps and towards your car. She gets in and looks at you as the door shuts, "What's happening?"

"Alluring Mag called and I have an interview to potentially be the CEO's assistant." You bite your lip and raise your eyebrows.

Sage's mouth drops and her head tilts down, "Shut. Up." She covers her mouth, "No way!"

"I know!" You shrug, "I can't believe it either."

"Y/n, have you ever seen what the CEO looks like?" She tilts her head sideways, "He is such a fine human being." She smirks as she pulls her phone up from her lap.

"You know." You shake your head, "As obsessed as I am with that magazine, I don't think I know what their CEO looks like, I do know his name is Harry, though."

"Harry. Styles." She says as she turns her phone towards you.

You look at the screen and your lips part slightly, "Oh shit." You take her phone and zoom in on the picture, "You're right."

You start to feel a tingling sensation between your legs and you tilt your head, weirdly enough, you don't feel bad at the thought of another man making your pussy throb just by looking at them.

"He's fucking hot. You might be the one that gets close and personal with that." Sage points and shakes her head, "Fuck, I am so jealous of you."

"Maybe this is a bad idea." You admit to Sage, "I just got turned on just by looking at him, Jade." You admit this to her because there is no shame between you guys, no judgment.

She sighs, "It's normal to look and feel attracted. It'll only be bad if you act upon those thoughts."

You hand her phone back and nod, "You are right., I just have to remind myself that I'm not the girl that sleeps with their boss to get higher up in the company, you work for it yourself."

"You go girl." Your friend laughs, "No you're right, now let's go get you some business clothing. I'm thinking tight skirt, open blouse, and a blazer."

You start driving to the mall and shake your head, "You are a bad influence, encouraging this behavior."

But it didn't feel so bad at the time.

── •✧• ──

Later on that day, you arrive back home and haul your bags inside.

"Hey." You greet Alex who's sitting on the couch, "How was work?" You walk in and close the door, setting your bags down on the island.

He stands up and walks over, raising his eyebrows as he sees your bags, "It was good, what's all this?" He waves his finger back and fourth at the bags and you smile, "I may have went a little overboard, but something tells me I needed all of these outfits."

He tilts his head and nods, "I'm only agreeing because we've been on the ball today about going with our gut feeling, so.. okay."

He walks around and leans in, pulling the bags open to look inside.

As he's inspecting your purchases, you walk over and pour yourself a glass of wine, "If not I can return them."

He looks at you and nods, "Mm, where do you want to go for dinner, baby?" He leans against the counter and watches as you being the glass up to your lips.

You take a sip and tilt your head, smiling slightly, "Italian? We can go to Nonna's?"

He smiles and nods, "Anything for you. Now go get ready."

You grab your glass and walk to Alex, giving him a kiss before heading to your room to get around.

You walk out a little while later and do a little spin to show off your outfit, "How do I look?"

His eyes move up and down your body, "You look amazing." He walks over to you, "Shall we head to dinner?"

You nod, "Let's."

You and Alex head to dinner, talking about the possible jobs you might have to do for Harry and that feeling between your legs returns.

"I just hope that this job gets a major pay raise." You laugh slightly, but in all reality, you would work for Harry for absolutely free, and you know there isn't a doubt about it.

"I'm sure, the CEO? Babe. Come on, if there isn't, then that's some absolute bullshit." Alex goes on but you cut him off, continuing to talk about Harry is only making you feel worse.

"Oh there's a parking spot right there!" You point out quickly changing the subject.

"Oh, yeah. Hey thanks." He whips the car in, putting it in park and looking over at you as he takes his seatbelt off.

You unbuckle and look over at him as you slowly let the seatbelt retract back, "What?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing, you're just pretty, is all."

You can feel the blush rise on your cheeks and you smile, "Let's go, I'm starving." You open the door and get out, walking around to meet him behind the car.

Your hand takes his and your fingers interlock as you walk with him into Nonna's.

── •✧• ──

"Thank you for dinner, Alex. This truly was the best way I can celebrate getting a job in a company I've dreamed of working at."

He smiles and opens the car door for you, "You deserved it." He waits for you to get in the seat and buckle up before he leans in and kisses you, "I love you."

You smile, "I love you."

He shuts the car door and walks around to get in. You rest your head back and smile as he lays his hand on your thigh, "Home?"

"Home." You respond with a sigh, "I am ready to go to bed before my anxiety about tomorrow kicks in and keeps me up all night."

He laughs and squeezes your leg, "You know what you're doing babe. You probably have a good resume if they picked you to be an option for this."

"I think she said there's two other people besides me, so." You look over at him and he looks at you, "See, out  probably tons of other applicants you got picked."

You nod as you remember what the lady on the phone said, "Yeah, the lady on the phone said that he picked them out himself, so he must be very specific if there's only three because like you said, there is probably tons of other applicants."

"That's what I'm saying, babe. You got this. You deserve this."

You smile and lay your hand on his, looking out the window as you think about Harry. You're anxious to be around him because you're very awkward when you're nervous to meet someone.

Especially someone you find attractive in any way.

You finally make it home and you let out a yawn. You're kind of over exaggerating how tired you are, but you really just want to go to bed so you find out stuff about Harry. 

Your husband yawns, "Good lord, y/n. Stop that."

You laugh, "Sorry." You get out of the car and walk up to the door, "I think I'm going to go for a shower."

Alex nods and kicks the door open, "Alright, I'm probably going to change and watch some tv for a little."

You nod and walk to your room, take off those heels that are starting to make your feet hurt. You grab clothes and head to the bathroom.

You shut the door and turn the shower on, grabbing your phone and going to google as the water heats up.

You type in the search bar HARRY STYLES CEO ALLURING MAGAZINE and your breathe hitches as his picture pops up.

You click on images and the pictures of Harry that show up make your stomach fall out of your ass.

There is just something about Harry that you can't describe, but you don't even want to think about it, it doesn't feel right, but at the same time.

It feels so good.

You notice that the bathroom has filled with steam so you set you phone down and finally get in and complete your full shower routine.

You wrap a towel around your body and open the door right away because you were going to pass out from how hot it was in there.

You grab your phone and dirty clothes to take them to the bedroom, but you stop when you notice Alex asleep on the couch.

You shake your head and walk in to your bedroom, drying off and slipping on your pajamas before you walk out to Alex. You tap him on the shoulder and lean down, "Hey, come to bed."

He mumbles and shifts around and you repeat what you just did, "Hey, come to bed." His eyes flutter open and he looks up at you, "M'sorry."

You smile, "It's okay. Come on."

You walk with him to the bedroom and you manage to successfully get a kiss before he fell back asleep. You smile and shake your head, laying back as you reach over to turn the light off.

── •✧• ──

After having a good nights sleep, you wake up feeling great. As you lay there, thinking about the details of the day, Alex comes in to say goodbye for work.

"You will do amazing today." He says walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. Your body move towards his slightly as the mattress sinks down, "Thank you."

You smile up at him and rest a hand on his cheek as he leans in. He presses his lips against your and moves to kiss your cheek a few times, "You got this, y/n. I'm serious."

"I will call you after."

"Directly after! I want to know everything!" He stands up and points to you, "Good luck. I love you."

"I love you." You say with a smile, "Have a good day."

Alex leaves for work and you lean over to grab your phone, calling Sage.

"Hello?" She mumbles after a few rings, "It's early."

"I know, I'm sorry. I need help picking out an outfit." You sigh as you sit up, "I was fine until just now. I'm freaking out."

You hear Sage laugh as you put her on speaker and toss the bags on the bed, "Sage!" You groan, "Please. Help me."

She sighs, "Wear the skirt that has the open square print with black heels and that long sleeve black blouse thing."

You pull the clothing from the bag and sigh, "Thank you. You can go back to sleep now."

"Uh huh." The line beeps and you laugh slightly, laying out the clothes on the bed.

You go to your closet and sit down, looking at your pile of shoes already feeling defeated. You lean forward, pulling out the first option of heels.

You study them for a few seconds, humming to yourself as you inspect them, turning them slowly before setting them down to move on to the next.

You repeat that process with about five pairs before you come across your velvet heels with the ankle strap.

"Perfect." You grab the other one and get up, walking over to lay them down beside your outfit. You look at the time and seeing as it's only nine fourth five, you go make yourself some breakfast.

You stared at the bowl of cereal in front of you, not really wanting to eat as your anxiety slowly work on taking over your whole body.

You take a few bites before calling it quits. You reach over and lay your hand on your phone, sliding it over to you.

You stare at it for a few moments, debating on whether or not you should look up Harry more. You shake your head and get up to clean your cereal bowl.

── •✧• ──

You managed to keep yourself busy, get ready and give yourself one last look in the mirror by one. You didn't realize you were shaking until you reached for your keys on the stand.

You take a deep breathe and grab them before making your way out of the door.

Your phone buzzes as you get into your car and you smile because it's most likely your hourly supportive text from Alex.

You start the car, get the air going and grab your phone, smiling as you read the text from Alex,

Alex: You got this. I know you're probably nervous but don't be. You are going to rock this interview and be the CEO's assistant.

Your bottom lip slips between your teeth and you take a deep breathe. The thought of Harry drives you insane. You don't know what it is, but ever since yesterday you cannot stop thinking about this man.

A part of you hopes you don't get the job so you can stop all of this delusional day dreaming, but an even bigger part of you wants you to be the one to get the job and see what happens.

You send him back two hearts and start your drive to what could possibly be the best or worst day of your life.

You can feel your stomach drop as you pull into the empty spot out front. You don't want to move, but you force yourself to grab your purse and get out.

You pop some coins into the meter and lock your car before throwing your keys into your purse. You walk inside, wiping your palm on your skirt before pulling the glass door open.

You can't help but to look around, aweing at the building that you've dreamed of being in one day. You were so caught up in, pretty much having a fan girl moment, that you don't hear the receptionist calling for you.

"Miss? Hello."

You turn and blink, "Oh.." you laugh slightly and hover your fingers over your mouth, "I am so sorry."

She smiles and sits back down, "It's a very beautiful building, I know." She shuffles some papers around before looking back up at you, "Are you Y/N Y/L/N?"

You rest your hands on the counter and nod, "Yes I am."

"Do you have your I.D?" She pretends to hold a card between her fingers and you nod, "Yes." You open your purse and pull out your wallet, slipping out the plastic card from the holder, "Here you go."

She smiles and takes it, "Thank you, with being a big company you never know who wants to try anything."

You raise your eyebrows, "Oh no. I understand."

She types in your information and scans your I.D before handing it back to you, "Thank you." She leans in and looks at her computer, "You're here for the interview with Mr. Styles, right?"

Your body goes cold and you nod, forcing a smile that covers up your nervousness, "Yes, I am."

She nods, "Just giving you a warning, he can be a little.." she tilts her head, "Mm, hard to deal with sometimes, but you're pretty so just smile and agree with him."

You jerk your head back slightly at her comments, "Um, alright." You pull your purse straps up onto your shoulder and watch as she dials a number.

It rings on speaker a few times before a man picks up "Mr. Styles' office, Jake speaking, how can I help you?"

"Hello, Jake. It's Jamie from the front, I have y/n here for the two o'clock interview with Mr. Styles." Jamie looks up at you and smiles.

"He's still in with the other one, but go ahead and send her up. She can wait out with me."

Your stomach does a flip and you feel like you could throw up, "You're going to head to the tenth floor and it's the second to last door on your right."

You nod and swallow, "Thank you." You start to walk to the elevator, your heels clicking against the white flooring.

You press the button and the doors open. You step on, pressed the button labeled with a fancy looking '10'.

You were amazed, you never seen a mirror in an elevator before. You bite your lip, smirking as you quickly dig your phone out of your purse. You swipe over to the camera and snap a quick mirror selfie before the elevator dings.

You spin around fast and drop your phone back into your bag as you look up and giving the woman a small smile, "Hi." She smiles, "Good afternoon."

She gets off on the next floor but more people get on and then off and it feels like you have been on the elevator, stewing in your anxiety for what feels like an eternity.

You let out a slightly loud sigh, "Finally." You step off and walk down the hall. You stop when you make your way to the door Jamie said to go to and you take a slow, shaky deep breath and breathe it out before opening it.

"Y/n?" Who you assume, Jake says standing up.

"Yes, that's me."

"Great. So if you just want to have a seat, relax for a few minutes, he should be wrapping up with this person shortly." Jake smiles and motions to a mini fridge, "Water? Anything to drink?"

You shake your head as you walk over and sit down, "No thank you. I'm okay."

He nods and goes back to his desk. He picks up the phone and holds it as he dials, "Mr. Styles, your last interview is here whenever you're ready."

Your eyes flick up to Jake then over to the door you entered in. You don't know how you missed it, but it has Harry Styles in bold letters and even reading his name gives you a flutter.

Maybe it's because he's an important person in the company you much the working for? You try to talk yourself down, all while trying to stay alert for your cue to go in.

After about twenty minutes of waiting, Jake's phone rings. You sit up straight, clutching onto your purse as you anticipate him telling you to go.

"Yes sir, one second." He hangs up the phone and stands up, "I'll be right back." He walks back the hall and you can hear a door open.

It's silent for a few moments before you hear a voice enter the hall way. It sounds deep and angry, and the accent kind of threw you off.

You hear footsteps in the hall and your heart starts to race. Jake and another guy are walking out and Jake is whispering things to him.

You make eye contact with the guy being walked out and he points behind him, "Don't even waste your time with that fucking douche bag."

"Stop or I will call security." Jake says as he opens the door, "Y/N, you can go back."

"O-oh." You stand up slowly, "Okay, thank you." You look at the hall and slowly walk back.

"Did you get him out of here, Jake? I swear to god if this last one is just as fuckin' stupid as the others I-"

Harry's talking stops abruptly as his eyes land on you, "Shit. I'm so sorry."

You suddenly feel this burst of confidence take over your body and you tilt your head, "Having a little trouble finding an assistant?"

He chuckles slightly and looks down as he nods, "Yeah, I am, believe it or not." He looks up and motions for you to sit down, "Please, come in. Have a seat."

You walk in as Harry walks around his desk to close the door. You sit down and look up at him as he walks to sit back at his desk, "I'm sorry." He turns towards you and rests his hands on his desk.

You knew he was apologizing, but once you glanced down, you couldn't stop thinking about his hands, the rings, the painted nails, fuck.

"It's fine." You smile at him, "Really! That guy seemed like a real asshole anyway."

He smirks and nods as he leans back, "He didn't want to accept no as an answer, so I had to explain why and that took over an hour."

"Oh god. I'm so sorry." You nod, "I wouldn't want to have to do that for over an hour either."

He squints as he stares at you, "I like you."

His words scare the shit out of you, "what?" You laugh slightly embarrassed.

"I said." He leans forward and folds his arms on the desk, "I like you."

You can feel a pathetic blush rising on your cheeks and you can't help but smile, "Thank you." You look up at him and he smirks, "Tell me about yourself, darling."

"We'll, I graduated with a bachelor's degree in English and I studied communications, journalism and photography as well."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "No, no." He leans back and waves his hand, "I already know all of that, I mean about you."

You smile and lean forward, tugging your skirt down as you switch your legs around, "Oh, um. Well.."

Suddenly you can't think of anything about you and you blank.

"Are you married?"

His question snaps you out of trying to think real quick, "Huh?" He points and you look down ay hour hand, lifting it slightly as you show off your ring, "Yes, I am."

You look back up at him and he presses his lips together, nodding as his eyes study your ring, "That's nice."

"Are you?" You ask without thinking.

You start to panic, thinking it might be a touching subject for him or just not a good topic so you shake your head, "Sorry, that was-"

"No, no. I asked first." He laughs and look at you, blindly slowly as he shakes his head slightly, "I am not married. Single, actually."

There's a twinge in your gut that tells you to get away from this topic.

"I just haven't found the right person yet, you know?"

You nod, "I totally get that, I got married a lot younger than I planned, I love Alex, but sometimes I can't help but to think.. you know maybe.." you trail off and look at him.

He has a slight smile rested on his lips and you sigh, "This isn't a therapy session. I apologize." You lay a hand on your forehead and rub your temples with your thumb and middle finger.

You curse yourself internally and wish you would magically poof home, under the covers to hide from everything happening right now.

"You're fine, love. I promise. If you weren't, you wouldn't be in my office this long." He smiles and gives you a quick wink.

You smile slightly and tilt your head, "Can I ask you something?" He nods, "Of course."

You smile slightly, "Please, don't take this the wrong way, I don't know if this is weird but where are you from?"

He chuckles and shakes his head, "No, no you're fine. I get that a lot but I'll break it down for you." He glances up at you as he smiles, "So I was born in Redditch, then when I was seven, my parents divorced and I grew up in Holmes Chapel with my mom. That was a really weird time for me."

You are kind of shocked that Harry just gave you part of his life story in a matter of minutes of meeting him.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that." You shake your head, "My parents divorced, too, but I had to live with my dad. My mom moved three hours away with some guy she met on line."

He shakes his head, "That's not fair to you. I'm sorry, darling."

You feel weirdly comfortable with him, like you could tell him your deepest darkest secret and it will always be safe with him.

"It's okay. I managed. Look where I'm at now." You laugh slightly and motion around you.

Harry nods and smiles at you, "Mhm, Alluring Mag's newest assistant to me."

"What?" You cover your mouth, "Are you serious?" He nods and smiles, “So when do you want to start?"

"I'll start whenever you want me to." You tried to not sound too eager but you indeed, fail.

"Do you need to let another employer know or?"

You shake your head, "Nope. If tomorrow works for you, it works for me."

He nods, "See you tomorrow then." He stands up and holds his hand out and you take his hand with yours, "I get here about eight, so if you just wanted to get here at seven thirty to settle in, Jake can let you into my office."

You nod and smile, "Thank you so much, Mr. Styles."

He squeezes you hand and leans in, "Please, when it's us, Harry is just fine." You smile, "Thank you so much, Harry."

"I'm excited to have you with me." He winks at you before letting go of your hand, "See you tomorrow."

You grab your bag and walk out of his office. You could feel his eyes burn into the back of you as you walks towards the door.

You glance back and his eyes quickly move up from your ass to your face and he smirks.

"Have a good day, Mr. Styles."

He smirks and shakes his head, "Have a good day, y/n."

And with that, you open the door and leave his office, ready to inform everybody that you are in fact newest assistant to the CEO of Alluring Mag.

── •✧• ──

Hello everyone, just a quick little authors note here.

I want you guys to tell me your thoughts about this! Every detail matters! I want to make this fanfiction the best that I can for you guys! If you have any ideas, you can message or comment anything and I will take it all into consideration!

Thank you for reading Secret Affairs.

Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Tag list: @larrystuff28

[yeahimwiththeband]

with the band chapter 19

husband and wife (part 2)

warning: you may briefly develop sympathy for a character you really dislike. A/N: my bitter little toast to the bride and groom. lydia learns what it means to be married to the man she's chosen. if you're just finding this now, i suggest starting at the beginning - or at the lastest, chapter 7. word count: 1.8k

From across the ocean, staring out at the water from California, Lydia could feel her cousin’s worry, and she thought to herself: you don’t know him like I do. 

It was her wedding day.

Lydia could hear their guests in their new apartment from the beach—all the heels and the slides on the tile floor, their conversation and clinking glasses bouncing off the mirrors and the marble. Their balcony doors were open, and the reception had almost spilled outside.

Lydia was still wearing her veil, a fine tulle dripping down her back all the way to her ankles, trailing in the water that washed up around her feet. She had her phone in her hand. She was trying to make a call.

She had been trying since 10 o’clock this morning, when the hairdresser had pressed the veil into place. 

Lydia stood on the beach barefoot; her shoes were upstairs, at the reception with the band and Ryan and all George’s friends—the ones who were in California, the school friends who wore worn-down Todds and wanted to feel a bit dangerous by hanging out with a real musician (or look it, on their feeds, in photos near a musician). Taking casual reels with Jess Harper casually lounging in the background. She had confirmed the guest list. Like a wife should. She looked down at her ring (huge and not very rock and roll, as Jess pointed out). George had even agreed when she said she didn’t want Dave Novoselic there, that creepy old rock star who always brought needles to every party. The one who brought the bad batch that sent Tara to the hospital. George promised Dave wouldn’t be there; George was on his best behaviour. Like a husband should be. Novoselic had been disinvited, at her request. That was the power Lydia wielded now. She wasn’t just some kid in over her head anymore, or some Penny Lane character hanging on by a thread: they were married. Everything was going to be better. It was a new life, after everything.

Everything had been perfect since Lydia decided to stay in California. She finally called her dad. She had even been home to visit, and had seen Izzy's mom and Mrs. Shepherd. But Lydia couldn’t bring herself to see Izzy.

Hovering at the storefront, Lydia had seen her cousin behind the register; she was so stricken by guilt at the sight that she turned back. After a few panicked messages, Harry cheered her up before he left for Italy: he said Izzy had moved out, had another new job, and was back in school—she only worked at the store on weekends. (Lydia tried to return the favour by not telling Jess where Harry was; she couldn’t keep track of whether they were off or on again or real or not real again. Jess's posts had gotten desperate.)

jessH missing this one today

↳ harrystyles hop on a plane soon babe

larry4ever222 you guys are so cute jk pls breakup

Lydia felt relieved that Izzy was doing better, that she had escaped, that bringing her on the tour had worked—for the most part—but Lydia's guilt stuck to her, like her wet veil against her ankles.

She watched the waves go out and felt the undertow along with it, pulling her white satin slip dress and the pit of her stomach. Her new life in California was so beautiful. Whenever she felt like she was being pulled under, she remembered that first summer on tour and the first time George noticed her. She was shooting content for Jess’s socials and he kept pulling faces at her through the camera. The next day, she found a new phone stand outside her door. Then a new computer and clothes and plane tickets.

Then a ring. 

The wedding had been perfect. Except Izzy wasn't there. And Izzy and Harry weren’t together. Lydia believed she had smashed that up too, causing accidents everywhere. She knew her cousin and she knew they couldn’t be together now, after Harry left her like that. But Lydia still wanted to fix it.

Maybe she could still fix it. She had a plan.

A car horn from the road behind their building jolted her out of her haze, and back into another memory. A little bar, in nowhere New Brunswick, at the beginning of Jess Harper's second, tiny tour. The summer after she had turned 18, the summer it all happened.

The audience consisting of the celtic band—including a bagpiper who had fallen asleep—going on after them, Tara’s parents, and a bachelorette party that was half unconscious. Lydia found an angle in the corner of the bar, pressed up against the window, where she could shoot the crowd to make it look like an actual crowd. She had to get more people in to see their shows, or the next venue would cancel and Ryan would walk. Lydia could stare at her shots of George pulling faces for hours, but they weren’t working. She leaned back, trying to make the seven heads in front of her look like 70.

She heard a car horn too close and glass sprayed across her skirt: she turned to see that a driver had tapped the side of the building, sliding too far into his parking spot. The tap cracked the window. Lydia leapt up and burst into tears, even though she wasn’t hurt. She ran to the back of the bar, past the kitchen, and outside, to the laneway behind the bar, and George followed her. He thought she was injured. He thought she should go to the hospital. She couldn’t stop crying.

“Did the  glass cut you?” George asked, circling around her. He pulled up her sweater a bit where glass still clung to it, but Lydia swatted his hand away.

“I’m okay,” Lydia said. “I just need a minute. You can go back inside.” 

“Must have scared you,” George said. He reached out and Lydia turned away. She was breathing deeply, in and out. “It’s not really like you, Lyds, to keep anything hidden.” 

“Not this,” Lydia said.

“Not what?”

Lydia shook her head.

"You always tell the truth," George said.

“I’ve done some… I’ve done some fucking awful things.” 

“So have I,” George said, smiling, countering her grave tone with levity. It didn't work: Lydia’s eyes sank down to the floor. 

“I’m not like you guys,” Lydia replied. “I’m here because I ran away.”

“Lydia, me too. We’re more alike than—"

“No, no we’re not. I’m alone. I’m alone with what I’ve done.”

“What you’ve done?” George asked.

“And you should know. You know what? You should know about it. I should wear like, a button or a sash or something,” Lydia said, gesturing across her chest, “with the crime written on it, so everyone who comes in contact with me knows, so I’m not lying every minute of every day that I spend with anybody. I caused a.… There was a car accident, and I was driving. I was trying—I thought I was a good driver. I was paying attention. But we still crashed.”

“Is that how—“

“Yes, that’s how I lost my mom. Because I felt like driving that day.”

“Lydia, you have to know that it’s not—“

“Don’t say it. I’ve heard it before. It doesn’t—it’s not true, so it doesn’t sink in.”

George’s shoulders dropped. He wanted to reach out, but she kept swatting him away.

“And then I left my dad at home.”

“Sometimes, you have to take care of yourself,” George offered. 

Lydia shook her head. 

“I’m a messy person,” she said, her voice low. “I’m a toxic person.”

“I’m messy too,” George said. 

Lydia backed further away from him. Her back hit the door. George stepped toward her. Lydia wouldn’t meet his eyes. She looked at her feet, at the pavement. 

“There’s no way anybody could ever want me,” Lydia stammered. “There’s no way you could ever want me.”

“I want you,” George said. “I want you.”

And that was it.

Lydia pulled her veil up out of the water and glanced at her buzzing phone. Harry had sent a dozen texts since she posted announcing that she and George were married. He was in Italy; it was the middle of the night there. But Lydia couldn’t bring herself to message him back.

What would she say?

What could she say to Izzy?

Lydia had done everything to make Izzy happy, even saying nothing and swearing everyone to secrecy when George became infatuated with her—briefly—on tour. Lydia just wanted to keep her on the tour and away from that store she hated so much, and she thought she could stand it—the sight of them together—if Izzy really loved him.

Of course, at the time, Lydia didn’t know she would be here just a few months later, on the beach, in her wedding dress, with George in a tux upstairs. But no one could have stopped her.

Jess had told Lydia not to go through with it just a few days ago at the recording studio. From behind the microphone, Jess noticed an bright prism of light against the walls of the control room, and the distraction almost made her miss the hook. She traced the light back to a rock on Lydia's ring finger, dropped her headphones, and raced out of the live room in the middle of her verse, pulling Lydia out into the hallway. 

“Lydia,” Jess said, gripping her wrist and smiling in spite of herself. "Tell me you didn't."

“We’re crazy, I know.” 

"This is serious."

Lydia giggled. 

“George is a propeller, a sharp propeller, going at full speed. Don’t walk into the propeller, Lydia."

Lydia smiled. “But the propeller speaks to me in soothing tones.”

Jess dropped her wrist and laughed. 

Lydia kept going: “The propeller tells me I’m a good person and we can run away together.” 

“Oh, Lydia.” 

Lydia shrugged. Jess rolled her eyes and they laughed.

From the beach, Lydia could hear that laugh.

She locked her phone screen and picked up the hem of her dress. Izzy would be fine, Lydia thought to herself, because she had a plan to get her back together with Harry. She conceived the plan after George proposed and put it in motion during her visit to her dad, when she convinced Mrs. Shepherd to leave Izzy that house in Italy, and then convinced Harry that region was the perfect place for him to dry out. With the wedding out of the way, the next phase of her plan could go ahead. 

“Where did you go?” George said when she re-entered their apartment, leaping up from his seat.

Jess smiled warily and everyone at the table clinked their glasses. George grabbed Lydia around the waist and she sunk into him, wanting to drown in him. They kissed and everyone clapped. Lydia beamed. She was exactly where she was supposed to be. Everything was beautiful, and George had paid for every detail: the ceiling was so heavy with flowers they kept falling, full blooms landing like grenades on the table to giggles from all the guests.

She sat down next to George and Jess raised her glass to her, looking skeptical (as always). Lydia gulped down her champagne and George squeezed his hand around her waist, burying his face in her hair to bite her neck. Lydia laughed: was this the happiest she would ever feel? Could she and George feel like this every day?  

“To the bride and groom!” Lydia recognized the voice and snapped her eyes toward it. It was Dave Novoselic, chucking back something clear, seated at the head of the table. He had joined the reception while she was downstairs, stepping out to make a phone call that she couldn't actually make.

“He saw the post and wanted to come—I didn’t know what to do,” George said, running a finger up Lydia’s neck. Dave wiped his mouth and winked at Lydia before turning back to Ryan.

Lydia smiled and took another long drink. It was her wedding day, and she would stay happy, no matter what.

next chapter ->

[yeahimwiththeband]

with the band chapter 17

i know if i go

warning: italy, standing up for yourself, new year’s eve makeout hookup?

A/N: after izzy runs into harry in sicily, she invites him back to her hostel for a nye party. he makes her an offer she doesn’t expect. previous chapter here

word count: 2.8k

The hostel reminded her of the co-op in Austin: set in a lush garden, it was full of people her age and smelled like lemon zest. Its floor was terracotta and the walls were cracked tile, with leaning, thrifted bookcases lining the courtyard under a walkway. Olivia, Meg, and Izzy just had enough time to shower and throw on the one going out fit scrunched at the bottom of their bags. Izzy brought out her green dress; Meg wore flip flops with shorts and a metallic crop top, and Olivia floated around in a gauzy tulle thing over a t-shirt and shorts.  Izzy couldn’t get the dust of her sneakers—she made them walk back, declining a ride with Harry’s driver, and they had collapsed in a corner of the courtyard, watching the other backpackers mill around. She wondered if Jess was here, in Italy; she tried to push the thought out of her mind. On Insta, Harry and Jess were still very much together—so many strategic little public comments. Some sounded like Ryan, some sounded like authentic Jess and Harry. Izzy shook it off—it was out of her control, and she had made a new life for herself. She was so happy she left LA. 

The hostel’s bar was pouring shots for 3 euro each. It was already around 10 PM; the sky was clear and bright with stars, and the walls of the courtyard were cool against their backs. Through the gateway at the end of the courtyard, Izzy could see through to the patchy garden, with a thick clover lawn dotted with huge peony bushes and mimosa trees, dangling clusters of gold. She felt relaxed. She was wearing what she wanted to wear, with people she could be honest with. She wasn’t trying to fit in at a party where she didn’t belong anymore. Here, she could just be herself. Her heart trembled at the sound of a vespa outside, but it whipped past without stopping. Harry wasn’t here yet. 

Izzy remembered the last special occasion party she went to: that pretentious thing at The Frick with George and all his boujee private school friends, who were trying to warn her about him. Izzy exhaled. She felt so happy, in that moment, that she had left the tour and there was now an entire ocean between her and George.

“Limoncello,” Meg said, placing tiny glasses the size of a thimble in Izzy and Olivia’s hands. The golden mimosa buds were spilling in from the yard on the wind, racing across the floor and blowing into their hair.

“We have a long way to go if this is what we’re drinking all night,” Olivia said.

“We’re celebrating! To Italy and this trip,” Meg said. They all clinked glasses, took a sip, and Izzy instantly smiled: it tasted like Italy felt, like summer, bright and sweet and a little biting, so far. Meg wrinkled her nose: “It’s like drinking sugar.” She returned to the bar, while Olivia leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the guitarist strumming from the corner, a Swede 18 or 19 who had picked up one of the hostel’s guitars. Izzy tried to focus on him, listening intently. She had to stop checking the doorway for Harry. She had to stop imagining kissing him at midnight. The countdown, the lean in, firecracker sparks and yellow flowers flying around them...

“Now, grappa!” Meg was back already, with three shot glasses. Izzy’s carefully lowered her little goblet of limoncello to her feet.

“What’s grappa?” Olivia asked, peering at the almost-black liquid. A few of the backpackers had started to dance by the bar.

“It’s like wine, but more. You know?” Izzy could hear that Meg was drunk. She also sounded happy. Looking at her friend’s flushed and smiling face, Izzy could only feel relief - she had been such a bad friend on the tour, and felt like she was finally paying Meg back. Izzy flashed on the night Meg packed her bags, the way she sounded when Izzy said she wasn’t going home.

“So…” Olivia started, exchanging a glance with Meg. “I guess Harry should get here pretty soon, right?

“Alla nostra!” Izzy said, grabbing her glass. She threw it all back and then instantly spat it out, narrowly missing.

“Mama mia,” Olivia said. Her eyes were scrunched closed and she pinched her nose. She had only taken a small sip, but it made her sinuses burn.

“Oh my god,” Meg said.

“I’m dying,” Izzy said. Italian swear words she had heard her mom mutter throughout her childhood tumbled out of her mouth: it was like drinking paint.

“You’re not supposed to shot it like that,” said someone pretentious. Izzy felt someone take the glass out of her hand and press a napkin in in its place.

Izzy unscrunched her eyes to see Harry, t shirt on, leather jacket slung over his shoulder, smiling and trying not to.

“Please don’t laugh at me,” Izzy said.

“Never,” Harry replied.

Izzy picked up her Limoncello. Olivia and Meg had disappeared. She and Harry were alone in a corner

“Thanks for coming,” Izzy said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t—that other party,  you won’t be sad to—“

“I’m sure,” Harry said. He checked over his shoulder, a reflex. Izzy looked too—no one here seemed to recognize him. They were safe.

“Doesn’t this place remind you of the co-op?” He asked. “The one in Austin?”

“Yes,” Izzy said. Golden blooms flew around them.

Izzy told Harry more about the house and the garden and he leaned in to listen, rapt, nodding almost constantly. Oh god, what was he actually doing here? After she stalked him?

“You must think I’m stalking you,” Izzy said. She could never keep a filter on around him.

“I thought you’d think that of me,” Harry replied, laughing a bit. “I saw the house—we drove past your house on the way here. You have more claim to this place than I do.”

“You’re just going to cede all this territory?”

“Yes,” Harry said, “I’m clearly on your turf. ‘M not even slightly Italian.”

“I feel bad for you,” Izzy joked. Harry smiled.

Izzy was about to start in on more small talk - she had only started to tell him about her apartment with Olivia back at his house, and she could go through the curricula of her horticulture classes - when Harry cut her off. “Want to dance, Izzy?” Izzy threw back the rest of her limoncello, sugar biting the back of her throat, and followed him through the little doorway at the end of the courtyard outside. You could just hear the guitar from out there.

Harry put his right hand on Izzy’s waist and paused, like the wind was knocked out of him. Izzy put her hand on his shoulder. He seemed to get a grip of himself, she put her other hand in his.

Just then, Izzy heard a familiar song. I got my red dress on tonight, dancing in the dark… They started moving easily, just like they did in the arena the night he first taught Izzy how to dance. So she could go dance with George.

She heard that voice echo in her mind: I love teaching you to dance so you can dance with other men.

“I asked him to play it before I said hello to you,” Harry said sheepishly.

“Harry, what are you actually doing here?” He spun her away from him and then pulled her back closer.

“You were gone when I got back.”

Izzy didn’t know he came back for her. “I texted you. You didn’t return any of my messages.”

“I was—there was a lot going on. A lot of shit. I was trying to protect you,” he offered.

The words just flew out of her: “Thank you for trying to be soft handed with me, but I’m not a kid - you don’t have to hide things from me.”

“I’m sorry I did that,” Harry said.

“I waited for you, for a long time. It felt like forever. You left me there. You left me there in the arena.”

“You left the tour.”

think I’ll miss you forever, like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky

“I was scared. It wasn’t just Tara. It was you,” Izzy said. The truth.

Harry nodded.

“You and Jess…” Izzy started.

“There’s no me and Jess, Izzy,” Harry said firmly. “It’s all just for the tour. Ryan’s idea.”

“I don’t think it’s fake for her,” Izzy persisted.

“Nothing’s ever happened between us. Nothing.”

“I think she’s in love with you, Harry.”

Just then, Izzy heard a familiar voice gasp. She looked up, to see Meg and Olivia at the hostel’s second floor balcony, looking down at them. Or at least Meg was, until her head whipped around like she had seen a ghost and the two disappeared back into the hostel.

“The deal is that it goes until the summer—that’s how I got them off the tour for a few months at least, that was the trade I made with Ryan.”

“I didn’t know that. That does sound like something he would insist on, he’s so obsessed with social.”

“And I’m sorry about those stupid fucking photos. I was—I interfered, and—“

“No, you were right. You were right. You knew George, and it would have been better for me to be off the tour than with him. I wish you would have just told me about him, there was so much I didn’t know—“

“Would you have believed me? You would have just thought I was jealous.”

“That’s fair. I mean, I had no idea that you feel… That you felt that way.”

The past tense landed like an anvil between them.

Harry’s phone buzzed; someone was calling him. He silenced it, then put his arms around her again.

“Do you remember it, like I remember it?” Harry said, looking at his feet. They started moving easily, just like they did in the arena the night he first taught Izzy how to dance. She remembered the confetti falling around them.

Izzy nodded. Their faces were close; his hair brushed her forehead.

“Izzy. Come back on tour with me. George and Lydia are only joining for some of the dates—they won’t bother us, and I’m sure they won’t last that long, anyway.”

Harry’s eyes searched hers. A little supercut of the tour played across them in Izzy’s mind: Listening to Harry from the side of the stage with Meg, lying under the stage with Olivia, sitting on the stage after the show with Harry and Elijah, Jess and Lydia and George laughing together in the back room, lying in the grass with Harry at the co-op, playing guitar with Tara in the green room, Harry comforting Lydia, flashbulbs breaking through her window, Tara coughing up blood from the floor at that party. The reel glitched on those images and played them over and over: Tara on the floor, Tara on the floor, Lydia and George, Lydia and George.

Harry’s phone buzzed again. He silenced it again, waiting for her reply. “Izzy? It could be whatever you want. The secret girlfriend. Seamstress for the band?”

And there it was: Izzy felt her anxiety rushing back in, filling a cavern inside her that had been empty and maybe just waiting for it to come back. Harry was trying to be playful, but Izzy winced. He was waiting for her answer and she couldn’t stall. Her heart raced: she saw her self in Australia with Harry, Paris, London, Warsaw, Spain. She saw herself watching Harry and Jess faking a relationship for clout. She saw herself awkwardly avoiding George and Lydia. Suddenly, that last one eclipsed all the other things. She felt her heart start racing. “It ends in… July?”

“We’re in California for January, and then we wrap back here in Italy in July.”

“Back in LA.”

“Just for January.”

Harry’s words raced through her mind: seamstress for the band. She would be back in Los Angeles again, the city where George was recording, for almost a month. Izzy exhaled. She wouldn’t let anxiety make this decision. She tried to think: what do I actually want? Do I want to go back on the tour, or do I want to keep living with Olivia, go to classes, and work on what I’ve been building? She wanted to tell Harry more of the truth—they still weren’t saying everything. 

“You didn’t want to be with me… over the holidays, when I was texting you,” Izzy stammered. “You left me on read for weeks. But you want me on the tour.”

“I thought you hated me. I was sure you hated me. It was only when I heard you were here, that I thought…”

“I don’t hate you, Harry.”

His eyes widened. He pulled her hand up onto his chest—his heart was racing, too, tapping her fingertips.

“Not anymore?” He said. Izzy wanted to make a decision based on what she wanted, not what she was afraid of. 

Izzy leaned in and kissed him, soft lips crushing into hers just like she remembered. He put his other hand up to her face, fingertips in her hair, dragging his thumb along her cheek. A flower had caught in his hair. 

Harry kissed her cheek, then her neck. He wound his arms around her waist and crushed her against him, pressing his lips to hers again.

“Izzy.”

“Harry.”  

Izzy wanted to go with him, so badly. So badly. She pulled away and looked at Harry. Jess’s words echoed in her mind: You’re back on your bullshit, living for other people. 

“I want you to come and find me in July,” Izzy said. Harry’s face furrowed—anger flashed across it, just like it had before.

“I thought you were coming back with me now. Eddie, Elijah—they’re all excited to see you, they all know you’re coming with me. We leave Saturday. Everything’s set.”

Izzy stepped back from him. “I don’t think I can watch you fake it with Jess.” The words she was saying felt like they were coming out of another person’s mouth. The person who enrolled in the classes, the person who got her own apartment, the person who didn’t want to be the secret girlfriend; Izzy felt, for a moment, that this was a separate person than who she actually was—she was desperate to be with Harry again.

Harry’s phone buzzed again. He silenced it again.

“Wait…” Izzy said. Her hand dropped from his chest. “How did you know that I was here?”

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Lydia. Lydia told me.”

More secrets and lies, Izzy thought. She was left out again, not knowing what was going on—just like she had been with Lydia and George, and Harry and Jess. She felt like a kid at a grown up party again. 

“I don’t want to keep things from you,” Harry said, reading her look. “I’m just trying not to hurt you. I have been trying to talk sense into Lydia. I told her about George’s debt, just like I told you—she didn’t know how bad it was. How bad it still is.”

“I want to be with you,” Izzy said. Harry smiled. 

“Me too, Izzy. That’s all I want.” They were so close, Izzy thought. So close to everything being perfect. 

“When the fake relationship is over. When George and Lydia aren’t there—I’m sure I’ll be fine with all of it, in time, but I honestly can’t deal with them at all right now. Just even hearing anything about them, it’s too much…”

“I’m on the road alone for seven months and then see if you’re still around? That’s what you want?”

“It’s not that I want it, it’s just what I think I can tolerate.”

“Seven months away from you? Izzy, I don’t know if I can.”  

Noise from the courtyard broke in: it was almost midnight and the backpackers had crowded around the bar to count down. They were shouting: 20, 19... 

His phone buzzed again. “Bloody hell,” he said. He finally took it out of his pocket and checked who it was. He scrolled through a few messages, color draining from his face.

“Izzy, I… are Meg and Olivia still around? You’re not alone ‘ere, right?”

“They’re here. You’re here.”

Just then, Meg called over from the courtyard. “Did you tell her already?” Meg asked Harry.

10, 9...

“Tell me what?” Izzy asked, sharply. She felt like she was on the outside again. Meg walked over and put her hand on Izzy’s shoulder. Olivia followed, and tilted her phone toward her.

It was a news headline in The Daily Mail. George and Lydia were engaged. Rock god, whirlwind romance, fashion icon jumped out from the screen.

Izzy closed her eyes then opened them again. She was hoping that the headline would have disappeared. But it was still there, and more were popping up after it. They were planning to elope. They were already in Vegas, or maybe they were already married—some articles said Vegas, some said California. Harry said something, but Izzy couldn’t hear him.

Meg gently pushed the phone away. “You dodged a bullet,” she said.

“So it could hit Lydia,” Izzy replied.

3, 2...

“I’ll go,” Harry said. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her cheek and stepped away to answer the phone. Izzy grabbed for the phone again and saw a stream of photos: Lydia smiling deliriously, George smirking at the camera, a huge emerald ring.

Happy New Year!

“What am I supposed to do?” Izzy asked no one. “Do I go back on the tour? How can I help her?”

“You can’t. This is her choice,” Olivia said.

“Stupid choice,” Meg added.

Olivia sat down in an old iron chair leaning against the wall and extended another glass of limoncello to Izzy, who gulped it down.

“He knows about the insurance payout, doesn’t he?” Meg asked. Izzy swore under her breath. She hadn’t even considered that.

“Insurance payout?” Olivia asked.

“He’s drowning in debt, and Lydia got a payout when her mom died. I don’t think she’s actually touched much of it.”

“How can we help her?” Izzy asked. “Before you suggest it, I’m not going back on the tour so I can watch her and George together and maybe get poisoned by Jess.” Olivia laughed.

“I think you have to do what would make you happiest, not what would fix Lydia. You’ve done a lot over the last three months,” Meg said.

“What are you going to do, Izzy?”

Izzy looked around for Harry, but he was gone.

next chapter

[yeahimwiththeband]

shoutout to spring, which is apparently around the corner (i’m posting this from a snow drift)

[1d1195]

Hummingbirds

~5.2k words

From me: Based on a song of the same name--you'll see the lyrics in a moment. You'll need to suspend your belief a bit. I'm not sure everything makes perfect sense, but. Some of this story takes place through emailing and I didn't have a good method for this. So bold will be Harry's emails. Pink writing will be hers.

Warnings: angst, fluff, anger honestly just fluffy. second chance love

Summary: Harry has been angry for a really really long time. Only one person ever made him confront his anger.

“Eli, baby, we have to go!”

Harry could hear her from outside. He smirked, sipping his tea while he waited for Buddy to do his business. The air was crisp just like October should be. Decorative spider webs lined the front porch and the flower bushes in front of it. He was utterly pleased with his life. So completely happy.

“Mommy! I can’t find my dinosaur sneakers!”

“I don’t know how to spell it,” Evie frowned. “I’m going to fail!”

“Just do your best and practice, my love. I believe in you,” she assured as she zipped her backpack up at the doorway and stuffed her feet into the slip-on sneakers by the door. They make me feel old, she told Harry. They’re the perfect shoes for a busy Mum, he assured her. And I think y’look hot wearing them.

“Eli, honey!” She called back. “They’re here by the front door!”

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. “How lucky am I, Buddy?” He asked shaking the leash slightly. The dog turned to him and then tugged him around the yard looking for the right spot; totally unaware or unaffected that Harry had the best life there was to live.

“I-M-P-E-R-U-T-I-V-E.”

“Close, baby girl,” she smiled encouragingly. “It’s an A, not U.”

She looked miserable as she stepped off the porch. Evie approached Harry while his wife bent to help Eli with his sneakers. “I’m going to fail, Daddy.”

He chuckled at the little nine-year-old. Crouched to her height twirling the leash tight around one hand. He straightened her little hair bow on the side of her head, pinning her hair back to one side. He kissed her forehead. “Mummy said y’were close. Y’did a great job. Y’jus’ have t’remember there’s an A,” he reminded her and then pinched her cheek gently. “Like the grade you’re going t’get, right?” He winked at her.

Evie’s sweet eyes lit up with new hope. She turned to the pretty woman at the door holding Eli’s hand to usher him quickly out of the house now that his shoes were securely on his feet. “Mommy! Did you hear what Daddy said to help me remember?”

She grinned so beautifully; it melted him. The center of his chest felt deliriously warm. It felt equivalent to being snuggled under a blanket with her, warm and close while it snowed outside their house. The kids drinking hot chocolate at the coffee table and a movie playing in the background.

It was unbelievable she was all his. “What did Daddy say, Evie?” Eli held onto her hand tight while he jumped from the second to last step of the porch while Evie explained the A she was going to get. “Well, I guess you inherited your smarts from Daddy, hmm?” Which was unequivocally a joke. She was a hundred times smarter than him. Or at least it felt that way. But he loved her so much for never making him feel less than. She was good at that. It was impossible to feel less than in her presence.

She was good at everything. Her job, being a wife, but perhaps his favorite thing, she was a tremendous mother. Something he knew she would be good at, but not to the extent he witnessed on a daily basis. Eli hurried to Harry and Buddy petting the dog’s head and giggling when he licked his face. Harry kissed the top of his head and gave his little body a squeeze. “What smarts?” Harry asked.

She rolled her eyes as she finally approached her family. “You’re plenty smart, baby,” she shook her head with a gentle smile. The two kids that looked like the perfect combination of them went to her car and climbed into their respective seats. Harry wrapped his free arm around her back and pulled her to his side. He kissed her temple, nosing along her hairline.

“Not as smart as m’beautiful wife,” he reminded her. She laughed.

“I love you.” She tilted her head up for a kiss which Harry never let her wait for.

“I love you,” he grinned into the kiss.

“Ew!” Eli called.

“Mommy, let’s go!” Evie was eager to get to school and ace her spelling test.

“Bye Daddy!” Eli shouted. She gave his cheek a final peck and she headed across the yard to take their kids to school. “See you at my soccer game!”

“Hey kitten?” He called.

“Yeah?” She asked over her shoulder.

“M’a lucky man t’have you,” he reminded her.

She shook her head, laughed. “Me too, baby. Luckiest girl in the world to have you.”

The second her door closed behind her a swarm of hummingbirds fluttered so loudly into the yard. Seemingly out of nowhere. The noise of their wings was unbelievable. A dull roar. It was hundreds of the little birds, and she paid no mind to them as she started her car. Buddy didn’t care about the intrusion either. Even the kids were indifferent. “Are y’seeing this?” He called out to her. He blinked curiously when she didn’t respond. “What’s with all the—”

*

I had a dream last night / we were married in that house you always talked about / you were rushing to get the kids to school / packing their lunches, reviewing their spelling words / it was hummingbirds

Harry’s heart was beating like he had just finished a workout. His skin felt clammy. The sheets were wrapped too tightly around his legs. He groaned as his alarm vibrated to the same hum of the birds in his dream. The music playing alongside the vibration made him grumpy. “What the fuck?” He whispered and smacked the song off. He wished he could go right back. Did Evie pass her test? Did Eli score a goal?

Did she still love him the way he dreamed about?

*

Dr. Hendren listened to Harry’s dream but very much already knew the ending. It was the same as all his dreams with the house and the girl that he had been hearing for ten years.

“Harry,” the doctor said gently as he watched Harry on his screen. “Do you know what hummingbirds symbolize?”

“No,” Harry was grumpy. He always was after a dream that was so real so lifelike. It wasn’t fair. He just wanted her back. Wanted to see her. Wanted to know.

“Healing.” Dr. Hendren was quiet while Harry processed that. He worked his jaw, swallowing, and flexing it as he tried to get the words to come out. His body felt tense. Like he was trapped inside a box that was too small. That didn’t seem right. He didn’t feel like he was healed. He was still frustrated most of the time. Work was a minor distraction, and the loneliness was crippling at times. The only reprieve was dreaming of that pretty girl he knew so many years ago.

Why did it have to be her? She didn’t deserve Harry and his bad attitude. She already suffered through it for two years at a time when life should have been fun, lovely, sweet. They were kids and Harry was an ass. He never even said he loved her back then.

“Don’t you think,” Dr. Hendren continued quietly, and Harry knew what he was going to say. “You’ve been quiet long enough about what you want?” He shrugged. “Harry,” he tutted.

“I wasn’t a good boyfriend.”

“You were a kid.”

“She deserved more.”

“Then tell her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t want to talk to you and you’ll have some closure and you can stop dreaming about it.”

Harry remained silent, looking around his empty apartment. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. I’ll reach out to her.”

“Harry,” Dr. Hendren said quietly. “Have you thought about the best-case scenario?”

He shook his head. Thatkind of hope could kill him. But he knew why the dreams were so powerful these days. Why they were so steady and quick.

Woke up bleeding from my mouth / I bit my tongue right through / well I broke the habit / I guess that I’d had it not saying the things I need to

The following morning, he searched his inbox from an email he hadn’t used in ten years and found the address he never thought he’d email again after he broke up with her way back when.

But Harry wasn’t twenty anymore. He was trying to move on. Trying to fix things that should have been fixed a long time ago. He sat on the couch, typed out seven different versions of the message and clicked send before he could overthink it any longer. He slapped the computer shut and rubbed his hands on his pants. He took a sip of the tea he made hoping to calm himself and told himself that it was okay if she didn’t answer.

Hey. Long time. Not sure if you use this email. I know it’s been a long while. Hope you’re well. ... I’ve been thinking of you. And truthfully, I had a pretty realistic dream that you were in the other night. Nothing weird. Just my old self and back then and... I don’t know. ... How are you?

If she was working, she might just be getting settled. Or maybe out with a friend. Running errands. He refrained from imagining a little family that was waiting on her for dinner but reminded himself anyway that there were a million reasons she—

His phone lit up on the table beside the computer and his heart skipped a beat.

Harry Styles. As I live and breathe :) I’m well! How are you?

That little smiley face made his heart ache with adoration for her. He could picture her pretty face smiling. But she answered.

Good. Yeah. I… I’ve been going to therapy regularly. Finally had to and... my doctor and I have discussed a lot of things. You were one of them. I just... wanted to chat with you. I’m sorry, this is so out of the blue and weird.

No! Not at all, Harry. I’m glad you reached out. It’s really nice to hear from you. Therapy? That’s amazing! Do you like it?

I’m a work in progress.

Aren’t we all? :)

He smiled feeling relieved. Even just reading words on a screen made him feel at ease. He could practically hear her sweet, encouraging voice.

What are you up to? Do you live in state still?

Yes! I actually just moved down the road from the college. I’m a guidance counselor at the local high school.

That’s lovely. I’m not surprised you accomplished your goals. Your students are lucky to have you. Are you doing okay? It has to be draining.

A lot of the time yeah. But it’s rewarding as hell. You know I love kids, and I love being able to help.

Harry wondered if it was possible to love her more than he ever had before.

There’s a shadow on my shoulder / always whispers in my ear / that I’m so angry all of the time / I should be alone another year / I didn’t say it how you needed it / must have written it down a thousand times / all the things I would scream at the top of my lungs / if I wasn’t so busy saying I’m fine.

Harry had a habit of not saying what he was feeling. He bottled so much of it up and hid it from the rest of the world. Even people he loved. When he was dating her back in college, he kept a lot hidden and exploded when she asked him simple questions about himself. Trying to understand him and why he was angry all the time. Her willingness to look past it, try and help, and just continue to be kind to him made him angry too. It was constant, draining. It was like he couldn’t help himself.

There was a tiny voice in his head that told him he was too angry for her. She deserved someone lovely and sweet. Someone who would talk to her and tell her things. Be the person she deserved. Because despite everything, Harry loved love. It was nearly impossible for him to show it back then. But he did. He wanted to love her the way she needed.

But he was so busy being angry and bottling his emotions he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t love her the right way.

It was so unfair to her and looking back on it made him feel like a proper ass.

So, he was grateful for the email communication. He couldn’t imagine having this conversation with her about all this in person. They chatted for days. Catching up on things, reminiscing. Their email chain was up to 100 something messages. Some messages were long. Harry chatted about his family and she about hers. There were updates on work. On friends they still spoke to and no longer did. The conversation continued over the course of a little under a week.

But the most shocking details came from her.

I mentioned I moved... my ex-fiancé broke off our engagement. Don’t feel too bad for me, it’s actually a relief in hindsight. Something I’ve been trying to figure through. It’s why I know that anything you feel you did wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it was. There’s far worse relationship enders than a little bit of anger.

Jesus, I’m so sorry, kitten.

Well, isn’t that a sweet name for sore eyes :) Don’t be sorry. It’s good. I have this cute apartment to myself and it’s for the best it happened now before there were too many variables to consider...like kids or a house or something, you know? I’m definitely sad. But he wasn’t the one for me at the end of the day.

Sorry for dumping all that on you. It’s not really fair given our past. I think a lot of my friends disagree with my choice on this to let him go so it’s nice to just tell someone non-judgmental.

Harry felt angry the way he used to. The way that made him want to scream and he felt the desperate need to message Dr. Hendren because he felt out of his depth. All he said was sorry. How could she feel he was non-judgmental. He was judgmental. He was judging the fuck out of the piece of shit that broke her heart and made her sad.

But he was no better.

The man is an idiot to lose you. I know from experience.

:) I have to head to bed, there’s a big pep rally tomorrow at school so I have to have my brain ready for chaos. Sleep well Harry.

Good night, kitten.

He reread those messages over and over and right before he was going to fall asleep, his phone lit up with one more message.

You’re not an idiot by the way. He might be, but you, Harry Styles are not.

So of course, he dreamed of Evie, Eli, and the sweet girl at the other end of his emails that night.

And hummingbirds.

Thousands of hummingbirds.

*

Most of their messages were short.

I’ve been going to therapy for three years now.

That’s wonderful, Harry. Really. Do you like it?

Yeah...it’s hard.

:( Yeah... It really is. Do you like your therapist?

Yeah. I’ve had him the whole time.

Yeah? That’s good. I’m... proud of you. I don’t want to be weird about it, but I know you were angry. Really angry. It wasn’t good. You didn’t deserve that. I’m glad you have someone to help you work through it.

...You were so nice to me. When you shouldn’t have been. I didn’t treat you right.

You were wonderful, Harry. We were practically kids. If our relationship had any faults, it was because we were too young. I don’t regret a second of time being with you.

His heart skipped a beat. He felt that frustration from back when they were young, and she was so understanding but it didn’t make him grumpy or feel inadequate. All he felt was a sense of belonging. Something he probably would have felt back then if he could have gotten out of his own way. She was willing to look past it then as she was now.

You’re much too forgiving. He wrote. Because old habits die hard.

You weren’t fine, Harry. You didn’t know. We didn’t know what we were dealing with at that age.

Harry hadn’t a clue what he was dealing with. Did he even know now?

Can... can I give you something?

Give me something?

Yes. I... I can bring it to your apartment or to school or we can meet, I just... I’ve been trying to let it go but I think... I think my dream was reminding me that... there’s more to you. More I need to do for you.

Sure, if you think it will give you closure.

God, Harry wanted anything but closure.

Just to clarify: I don’t think you owe me anything.

I kept a lot hidden from you. I held back and it wasn’t fair. All you wanted was to love me and I wouldn’t let you.

It’s a vulnerable thing, Harry. To be loved. You didn’t do anything wrong. We were just young.

But... you knew I wasn’t fine, and you tried and... I just wasn’t fair to you.

You were fine, Harry. I promise. Bring me whatever it is that you need to give me to make you believe you did what you could with what you had.

*

Her apartment had a wreath on the door. It was beautiful with an array of burnt orange and red flowers and green vines. The perfect fall wreath. Beside the door were three pumpkins of different sizes. If he didn’t have her address, he almost thought he would know it was her place. He looked at the mat in front of the door that said welcome, and he wondered if there was any other place where someone actually meant it.

Swallowing, he took a deep breath and knocked. After a minute, the door was out of the way.

At 18, Harry thought she was beautiful. The most beautiful girl he had ever met. During the time they dated, he thought she got more beautiful every second. Apparently, he was right because the woman before him somehow got exponentially more beautiful. Her smile was so inviting, so warm. Like he was seeing an old friend. “Hey Harry,” her voice was sweet. Not an ounce of distrust, frustration, nothing. Their breakup was ten years ago. Not a degree of anger was left.

Harry wasn’t angry either. Not anymore. But if she had broken up with him and he hadn’t done all this work to better himself, he would have been. He didn’t know how she could be so sweet after all she went through.

“Hi,” he swallowed. “I don’t want t’keep you. S’really nice t’see you,” his dream didn’t do her justice. Sure, she was beautiful especially with their imaginary kids. Simply stunning. But this was more. This was the beautiful angel he loved so much even when she wasn’t his to love.

“You’re not keeping me; do you want to come in?” She shifted to open the door wider. “I can make some tea. Or we can order pizza?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I jus’ want t’give y’this,” he handed her the shoe box.

She opened the lid. “Well, you know I won’t say no to shoes,” she smirked.

As much as he wanted to laugh at her joke, he felt like he made a mistake. The box was out of his hands. Not because of what was in there but because of the fear of rejection and being so vulnerable. Feelings of inadequacy were currently circulating through his bloodstream. “Um... s’not—”

“What is this?” She asked, tilting her head. He swallowed, pinched his lower lip between his fingers and took a deep breath.

“S’letters.”

“Letters?”

“I wrote t’you.”

“Me?”

He took a deep breath. “M’sure y’know m’not good at saying what m’feeling.”

She replaced the lid, leaning against the frame. “I feel like I’m a little lost here, Harry.”

He nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t fidget or reach back out to take it from her. His mouth felt dry. He wished he had taken her offer for a glass of water now.  “I know y’said y’thought we were fine. But m’not happy with how I treated you. Y’were an angel. The perfect girlfriend and I treated y’unfairly a lot. I guess I’ve really held onto that and some of those letters are old but when I hit low points I thought ‘bout what y’said back then. How I wasn’t on m’own. I was allowed t’be angry. But I had t’let people in. All that. I wrote t’you a lot over the years. M’therapist said it was actually one of the smartest things I’ve done on m’own,” he chuckled. “I want you t’read them. When y’have time. I guess. I don’t know,” he cleared his throat. “This is really scary,” he admitted.

“Okay,” she nodded encouragingly and reached out to his forearm. She squeezed it reassuringly. It was only a touch on his arm, and he felt so good feeling it. He knew it was her training kicking in. Like a broken, beaten student at her office door. “I can do that,” she assured him. “Do you want me to text you about each one? Or just a summary of all of them? Or do you want me to not say anything?”

He looked at his feet. “Fuck...” he whispered to himself. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” she took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she smiled. “I’ll start reading tonight and I’ll decide in the moment. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

He nodded, looked at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“S’a lot.”

“I enjoy reading, Harry,” she grinned and moved her hand to his upper arm and soothingly rubbed up and down. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Of course he did. There was no one else he really did. He nodded, feeling nauseous but still lighter. “I’m gonna go now,” he swallowed.

“I’ll email you,” she assured him with a smile and headed inside.

*

Like it grows old real fast / how much you can love and not get it back / were we too attached? / It’s a shame how often goodbyes last / I thought we were better than that / I thought I was stronger at last.

The knock on the door was hurried, eager. Insistent on being heard.

At first, he felt frozen in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner he made himself and placing the dirty dishes in the sink. Maybe he imagined the knock. Maybe he was just dreaming again. Plus, she said she would email right? This wasn’t something to feel nervous about.

But the flutter of knocking continued. He hurried from his frozen position as the rapid taps hit the wood. He knew. His gut telling him exactly who was on the other side of that door. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed before pulling it out of the way.

“You bought me the house?!” She shrieked.

Harry dipped his head to avoid her eyes. “Yes.”

“Harry Styles, what the fuck?!”

He felt sick. “You hate it?”

Her eyes were red, glossy. Not what he expected at all. But why wasn’t it? This wasn’t normal. After a breakup of her own where she was sure she was going to marry the guy. Harry appeared out of nowhere. Telling her that he had a dream about her, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about her.

She covered her mouth and shook her head. “Harry,” she croaked.

“I’m—"

“You can’t buy me a house! We’re not even... Harry. This is insane! You have to see that!”

He shrugged. “I guess... but... I don’t know, kitten. I think about you all the time. I see this house in my sleep. I see our life in m’dreams every night.”

She was wearing only socks. Like she didn’t even have time to put on shoes. She held the paper in her hand wrinkled like she had read it hundreds of times already even though he had only given it to her the night before and he just knew which one was in her hands. She cleared her throat and read the date from ten years ago before she read the remainder of the letter.

To the resident(s) of 1278 Chestnut Street

My name is Harry Styles, and I am a college student in town. My girlfriend and I walk by your lovely home every day when we head to our favorite coffee shop after class. We love your home. Or I should say, my girlfriend LOVES your home. She claims it’s her dream home. The porch, the yard, the location... everything. She even loves your driveway. Every bit of your house is part of this fantastic dream she has of the life she wants in the future.

I don’t know if I’ll be with her forever. I am... working on myself. I’m not very good at all this relationship stuff. Especially when it comes to her. Quite frankly, I think she deserves way better than me. But on the off chance I am lucky enough to keep her in my life for as long as I would like, I want to make her dreams come true. She deserves that. She deserves every single one of her dreams to come true. She is the kind of girl that deserves every good thing that can possibly be provided for her.

If you ever find yourself selling, would you please consider emailing me first? Of course, if you have family that you plan on giving your home to, I understand. I can’t even promise I’ll be able to afford it, but I’ll want to know. If only to pass on the message to her somewhere down the line. She deserves the chance to have all her dreams come true.

I’m not sure where you are in life or if you have ever been in a relationship like this one. This girl is so special. She’s an angel. The kind of love that even a movie couldn’t show, or a book couldn’t write. I’m lucky to have her right now and I don’t know why she’s with me. I don’t know why I’m even sending this crazy letter other than I know I have to try. Even if she’s smart enough to leave me, I want her to know her dream home is available. Somewhere down the road. Even if we’re not on the same road anymore. That’s what she deserves.

I’m sorry to bother you like this. I hope you can understand what love can do to a guy in college with a girlfriend who is LEAGUES above him. Thank you for taking time to read this and I hope you continue to enjoy your lovely home.

Sincerely,

Harry

Her voice shook as she read it. “You sent that when we were in college.” He nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at the packet stapled together. “They emailed you,” she whispered. He nodded again.

“Dear Harry. We got your letter. When the time comes. We’ll be moving closer to our children. They’ve never expressed interest in our house the way you have. My wife and I met in college and believe me, I know a little something about finding the girl of your dreams. It’s nice you’re working on yourself. You deserve the life that fits this house too. We hope it’s with the girl that is leagues above you (although, we imagine she’d think differently). We’ll be in touch. The Andersons.”

Harry watched her flip the page as she made eye contact with him briefly before returning her gaze to the paper in front of her.

“Dear Harry. We hope life is treating you well. That you’re working on yourself, and your girlfriend is still around. If she’s not, we hope you’re not being too hard on yourself. We wanted to let you know we’ll soon be moving to a retirement community close to our son. We want to have you (and your girlfriend) over for dinner if you’re available. Let us know.”

Harry knew what was coming but he was still terrified. Why was she here? Barefoot. Reading the letters to him. What did she think.

“Dear Harry. It was so nice to meet you in person. Here is the contract we discussed. See you soon.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Kitten,” he whispered.

“Dear Harry. We hope you get her back. Enjoy your home. Never stop giving out your love. The Andersons.”

She was teary, swallowing hard. Her hands were shaking as she held the papers in front of her. “You bought me a house.”

He nodded. There was a pause. “M’sorry I took so long.”

She dropped the papers and launched herself into his arms. He stumbled back at the impact. Her arms around his neck, her feet barely touching the floor as she tucked her face into his shoulder. “Harry,” she whimpered. Harry sighed, wrapped his arms tightly around her, one at her waist, the other hand cupping the back of her head.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” his voice felt raw. Like he was the one that was crying and shaking. Not her.

She sniffled and nodded. “I know,” because she did. She read every single letter. Watched the date change but one thing never did and that was the love she felt in each letter.

“M’so tired, kitten,” he croaked.

“Of what, baby?” She cupped his face. The emotion on his face was tender and nothing like she remembered from ten years prior. Her thumb soothingly rubbed his cheek.

“Life without you,” he closed his eyes tight. “This house is yours I want nothing more than for you t’have it, but I want it t’be ours.”

She sniffled, ducked her head briefly as she glanced around. “You decorated it for Halloween,” she whispered.

“You would have done better.”

She snorted. “Harry...”

“If this is the house that makes you happy then I want it jus’ as much, kitten. But you’re my home. You always have been.”

“I don’t know what to say Harry,” she whimpered.

“Say yes.”

“Harry...” she whispered.

“Please, I’m so tired of loving and loving and never feeling that way. I know s’how I made y’feel in college and y’jus’ dealt with it. Y’jus’ wanted love and I didn’t give y’what y’needed. But m’ready now. M’so ready t’do whatever y’need t’love you the way y’deserve. The way y’always deserved.”

Not for the first time in his life, Harry prayed that if this was a dream, he would never wake up.

He never thought he would hold her again. Never thought she would be in the house she always wanted. Or that she would know he was sorry for how he was back when he was an angry kid.

Perhaps most importantly, he never thought he would feel her lips on his ever again.

--

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[meltingfin1]

He doesn’t even have to try, he’s so naturally enticing

[stylespctals]

The nanny | Part 1 - Pining

Summary: where Y/N is the nanny for a little girl named Stevie Styles. Her job consists of traveling all around the world with the girls rockstar dad - Harry Styles. What happens when Y/N and Harry start having feelings for one another?

A/N: This is my first writing on tumblr sorry if i’m rusty! I’ve written fanfictions for other celebs but never harry, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1.4k

warnings: sickening fluff, sexual acts, mention of death, mentioning childbirth, harry being such a loving boy, y/n being shy

Read part 2 here

——————————————————————————

“Stevie I’m sorry your daddy won’t be home till later.” you say, trying to comfort the crying four year old.

“But I want daddy.” She screams. Starting to throw a tantrum; you don’t know how to stop it. Stevie has never thrown one before.

You became the nanny for Stevie two years ago when Harry realized it wasn’t possible to travel the world alone with a two year old.

Stevie’s mother passed when giving birth, her and Harry weren’t together. The conception was a drunken one night stand where Jessie- Stevie’s mother- convinced Harry she was on birth control. She wasn’t. Harry was so angry after that, but he also knew he was at fault for not taking an extra precaution. After she passed he mourned her pretty hard. He knew the effect it would have on his baby girl.

He realized he was relying too much on friends to look after Stevie when he was busy that he ended being forced to bring her to events she wasn’t welcome at. He knew he needed to get a nanny but he wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone with a stranger. That’s when he met you.

You and him met at a bar. Jeff invited Harry out to drinks with him and few of his and Glenne’s friends. You and Glenne were super close.

You guys hit it off super well and Harry knew you were the person he wanted as his nanny. He found out you are a nanny and immediately asked you if you would be his. He offered you triple what you other options would’ve paid, which made you laugh and assure him you didn’t need that and you would be honored to nanny such a sweet girl.

And here you are now, best friends with an international pop star and the nanny of the best girl in the world; trying to calm down the sweet girl.

“Shhh Stevie it’s okay, daddy will back soon I promise.” you say soothingly, trying to stop the four year old from squirming out of your arms.

“No!” the little girl screams, getting up and running to the couch; she puts her head on it and starts hitting it.

“Stevie Anne that is not a way to act!” Harry says sternly. Walking into a scene he never had before.

“Daddy!” she cries as she runs up and hugs his legs. Crying the hardest she ever has.

Harry frowns, realizing something is wrong.

He picks her up and places her on his hip, she wraps her arms around his neck and sits there and cries.

“What’s wrong love bug.” he says moving her curly red hair away from her face.

She’s a spitting image of Harry, except for her bright ginger hair.

You sit there and watch as Harry talks to Stevie in a calm soft voice and wipes her tears away. Smiling loving how different he is with her.

“I’m going to go put her to bed.” he mouths to her, Stevie was falling asleep in the comfort of her father’s arms.

You nod, he takes off towards the steps. You start cleaning up.

You’re in the kitchen when harry returns downstairs. He sits down at the bar stool and sighs.

“Is everything okay?” you ask. Grabbing him a glass of wine and sitting down next to him.

“Thanks.” he says taking a sip of the wine. “She was just really upset that i’ve been gone, it’s been a while since she’s been without seeing me all day. I didn’t know it would put this much effect on her but now I realize it is.” he says, rubbing his forehead while downing his glass of wine.

“Ay take it easy.” grabbing the wine glass out of his hand you go and set it in the sink. “You hate drinking while on tour. If you’re going to you gotta take it slow, alright?”

“Yeah yeah I know sorry i’m just stressed I feel terrible for making her upset. And i know she probably took it out on you, I hate to put you through that. She’s usually such a great kid and never has any problems.” he groans, putting his head against the granite countertops.

“H, it’s alright. This is what i signed up for, to be a nanny for this precious little girl through all the bad moments. Okay?” you say, placing your hand on his, making tingles run up your spine at the contact.

He looks up at you with this soft look in his eyes that you can’t decipher. He squeezes your hand with a smile and mumbles a thank you.

You smile at him and he pulls you into a tight hug.

You feel him take a deep breath through his nose; nuzzling into your soft hair.

He plants two kisses on your temple and pulls away, looking you deeply into your eyes. “You’re the best you know that?” he says, not taking his eyes off yours.

You get a little flustered under his gaze and look away blushing.

“Yeah whatever.” you shrug, hiding your eyes from his. His hand grabs your chin and makes you look at him again

“I’m serious Y/N. I couldn’t ask for someone better to do this with. I thought I was going to be alone raising her and I was so scared. Then you came along and you’re the biggest help and everything I needed to help me and her through this.” He says moving his hand to your cheek.

This brings tears to your eyes; you pull him for a right hug again and cry into his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me into her life. I don’t know what i’d do without you and her.” you sniffle, pulling away to wipe and your eyes.

He smiles and wipes your tears.

Oh my god you’re melting.

“I think maybe we should both get some sleep we seem pretty emotional.” he chuckles as he stands up out of his seat. He holds his hand out for you and you take it.

“Come on i’ll run a bath for you. You deserve it.” he says dragging you to the en-suite bathroom.

You swing your feet giddily as you pull yourself up on the counter and watch him prepare the bath. Is it bad you can feel yourself getting wet beneath your panties? Something about a man pampering you really gets you going.

“Okay all set.” he walks over to you and lifts you up off the counter. Making you smile. “See you in the morning sweets, I got a free day tomorrow and I want to spend it with you and Stevie, so be up and ready by 10! Have a surprise for you two.” he kisses your cheek again which makes your heart race.

“Goodnight, H.” you blush. Again. He gives you a wink then leaves the room.

You get undressed and into the bath.

You shamefully rub yourself to an orgasm thinking of your boss.

——————————————————————————

Harry’s fucked. Being in love with your nanny?

These type of things only happens in books.

I guess not for Harry.

You were constantly on Harry’s mind. He woke up thinking about you and went to bed thinking about you.

He also thought about you in other ways. Which he was a little shameful about.

With his hand wrapped around his shaft stroking himself thinking about you underneath him whining and begging him to fuck you.

He can’t even be shameful when that’s all on his mind.

He knows it’s wrong but he’s been in love with you since the beginning. He just doesn’t know how to tell you.

He imagines all the way he’s could confess to you, but, what if you don’t feel the same? That’s a nagging fear in the back of Harry’s mind.

What if you’re just in it for the money? What if you are doing this because he’s Harry Styles? That sounds so narcissistic he thinks but he can’t help his mind go there after that being the case in multiple of his past relationships.

He try’s to rid these thoughts as he cleans himself up, then nestles into his covers.

“I’m going to confess tomorrow.” He says to himself, not even knowing if that’s the truth or not.

——————

Thank you so much for reading I hope you enjoyed, I will have part to you tomorrow!

I also will be making a post about request if you have any!

[ohmoonbeam]

Oh my god, all thoughts I had about this vanished with that last part!

solace* (famous!harry x masseuse!y/n)

summary: harry is in need of some unwinding and destressing, and he finds the perfect masseuse for that. they end up growing much closer than the relationship they began with, but it's never that easy, is it?

words: 6.4k (she's long)

warnings: smut in this one: p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cursing, dirty talk, fingering, creampie.

"Just lay down on the table and relax. I'll take good care of you."

Y/N tried to keep her voice steady and professional as she greeted her new client, the one and only Harry Styles. The famous former athlete turned singer was lying face down on the massage table, a towel draped over his lower body.

Y/N had been a masseuse at this high-end spa for two years, but she had never worked on someone so famous before. She was intimidated but determined not to show it. Treating Harry just like any other client was the only way she could get through this.

"You're the expert," Harry's muffled voice came from the face cradle. "I'm in your hands."

Y/N gulped at the unintended innuendo. Get it together, she scolded herself. This is strictly business.

She warmed up some lotion in her hands and began working on Harry's muscular back and shoulders. Almost immediately, she could feel the tightness and knots from years of intense athletic training.

"You've got a lot of built-up tension in here," she commented, digging her fingers in to loosen a stubborn knot. "What sort of athletic background are we working with?"

"Footie, if you go by my English roots," Harry said, sucking in a sharp breath as she worked a particularly tender spot. "Played striker on an academy team as a kid before my interests shifted to music in my late teens."

Y/N raised her eyebrows, impressed. She had no idea Harry was such a talented athlete on top of his musical skills. Somehow that made her former crush on him even more intimidating.

As she moved down to his lower back, she tried to keep her touches clinical and impersonal. But she couldn't help noticing how toned Harry's body was, the muscles rippling beneath her hands. 

Stop ogling him, you're being completely unprofessional! She gave herself another firm mental rebuke.

For a while, the only sounds were Harry's occasional groans as Y/N dug into his tight knots and the relaxing spa music playing softly in the background. But eventually, Harry broke the silence.

"You know, you seem a bit nervous around me. Is it because I'm....well, me?"

Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She should have known he would pick up on her awkwardness.

"I'm just trying to stay focused," she mumbled, unable to keep the embarrassment out of her voice entirely. "I don't want to slip up and disappoint an important client like yourself."

To her surprise, Harry let out a low chuckle. "Love, I may be famous but I'm just a regular bloke like any other. No need to be nervous."

His voice was warm and full of humor, putting Y/N more at ease. She realized she had been building him up as some intimidating celebrity in her mind when really he seemed down-to-earth.

Feeling emboldened, she decided to open up a bit. "To be honest, I may have...had a bit of a crush on you back in the day. Your music was a big part of my teen years."

"Is that so?" Harry sounded both flattered and amused. "Well, I'll take it as a compliment from a pretty lady like yourself."

Y/N felt her traitorous cheeks heating up again. Were they...flirting now? She couldn't tell if he was just being charming or if there was real interest there.

She tried to keep things professional as she moved on to his arms and legs, though her lingering shyness made it difficult. Harry seemed to sense it, not pushing things but keeping up his friendly banter that had her laughing in spite of herself.

By the end of the ninety minutes, Y/N was disappointed for the massage to be over. Some of the intimidation had faded, replaced by an easy rapport. Almost as if...they could really be friends, or more, not just client and masseuse.

As Harry redressed and prepared to leave, he paused and gave her a heart-stoppingly charming smile. "Same time next week? I'll need to keep these knots at bay."

Y/N couldn't resist smiling back, a warm flutter in her belly. "I'll be here. It's a date."

Wait, did she actually just say that?! She wanted to cringe at her awkward choice of words.

But Harry just chuckled easily, not seeming bothered at all. "A date it is, then. I look forward to it."

As he sauntered out, Y/N exhaled a long breath. Suddenly, her job had gotten a lot more...interesting.

Over the next few months, Y/N looked forward to Harry's weekly appointments increasingly more. They had fallen into an easy, teasing back-and-forth during their sessions peppered with plenty of flirtatious banter. 

At first, Y/N firmly kept things within professional boundaries, no matter how strong her crush was growing. Harry may be a laid back, regular guy, but he was still a client at the end of the day.

However, the more she got to know the real Harry beyond his famous persona, the harder it became not to develop deeper feelings. His sharp wit, endless warmth and care for those around him, and genuine humility all endeared him to Y/N enormously.

For his part, Harry seemed to be growing quite fond of Y/N as well. He playfully requested she work extra hard on his "problem areas" and loved to tease her about her technique and bedroom eyes whenever she was really concentrating. Y/N would pretend to be flustered, but secretly loved their charged back-and-forth.

One week, Harry didn't show up for his usual appointment. Y/N tried not to feel too disappointed, figuring he must have just been busy. But when he missed his spot the following week as well with no notice, she began to worry something was wrong.

"Everything okay with Harry?" she couldn't help asking the spa receptionist. "I haven't seen him for his appointments lately."

The petite blonde receptionist gave her a sly grin. "Haven't you heard? There was an issue with his latest music release, so he's been dealing with that whole mess the past couple weeks."

Y/N frowned, concerned. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about work issues. Then again, she realized they had become so comfortable with each other that she always viewed him through a friend's lens rather than a client's now. 

Making a snap decision, Y/N pulled out her phone and drafted a text to the number Harry had given her months ago, just in case she ever needed to reschedule his slot.

"Hey there, just checking in! Missed you the past couple weeks and wanted to make sure everything is alright?"

She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart fluttering nervously. This was wildly unprofessional to text a client like this, even if Harry had become more of a friend really.

To her surprise, Harry texted back almost immediately.

"Y/N! Was just thinking about you, funny enough. I'm so sorry for going MIA, it's been a madhouse with this new album mess. Let me make it up to you with dinner this weekend?"

Y/N's eyes widened as she re-read the text. Was Harry...asking her on a date? Or was he just being friendly and suggesting they grab a bite to catch up? She wasn't sure, but her heart was pounding either way.

Throwing caution to the wind, she typed: "It's a date. Looking forward to it!"

If her massages with Harry had been growing increasingly charged lately, Y/N could only imagine how electric an actual date with him would be...

The rest of the week dragged by interminably for Y/N as she counted down to her dinner with Harry. She agonized over what to wear, settling on a slinky red dress that walked the line between casual date and fancy night out perfectly.

When Saturday evening finally arrived, Y/N felt uncharacteristically nervous as she pulled up to the chic restaurant Harry had chosen. What if she had been misreading everything and this was just a friendly dinner after all? She didn't want to make things weird if that was the case.

But the second Harry opened the door to greet her, looking unfairly handsome in a slick black button-down, her worries melted away. He was giving her the same heated look he got when she was working out a tight knot in his muscles - unmistakably attracted and intrigued.

"You look positively stunning, love," he murmured, taking her hand and giving it a delicate kiss. "Though I don't know what I was expecting, you always manage to blow me away."

Y/N felt her face heating up at his unabashed flattery, her pulse racing. She couldn't resist giving his bicep a playful squeeze.

"You're not looking too bad yourself, popstar. Now are we going to eat, or did you just invite me out to shamelessly flirt?"

Harry grinned wickedly. "Why can't we do both?"

The evening passed in a blur of delicious food, sinfully good wine, and the most scintillating conversation Y/N had ever experienced. She and Harry swapped stories, teased and joked, and delved into surprisingly deep philosophical discussions, all without missing a beat.

By the time they were splitting a decadent slice of chocolate cake for dessert, Y/N felt more relaxed and giddy than she had in years. Despite all her nervous buildup, the date was turning out perfectly.

"You know," Harry began conversationally as he licked some icing off his fork in a way that made Y/N's mouth go dry. "When you started as my masseuse, I'll admit I figured you were just another pretty face hired by the spa. Starstruck and nervous around me because of my image and all that rot."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his words, but Harry grinned teasingly to show he meant no offense. 

"But you proved me absolutely wrong in the best way possible, darling. Your skill and your spirit both blew me away. You're always so professional, but with this amazing warm heart and sharp wit just beneath the surface."

Y/N couldn't help smiling bashfully at his earnest compliments. "Well, you hardly made it easy to stay focused and impersonal, Mr. Cheeky Flirtmaster. I'm just glad we were able to become...friends."

She said the last word tentatively, wondering if Harry felt the same growing sense that they had become something more than that recently. His heated gaze and body language said as much, but she didn't want to assume.

Harry seemed to pick up on her hesitancy, his green eyes crinkling at the corners fondly.

"Y/N, I think we both know our 'friendship' has evolved into something deeper, at least for me. I've fancied you for months, maybe longer if I'm being honest with myself. You're bloody brilliant - smart, talented, caring, with a rocking body that drives me spare in the best way."

He reached across the table to take her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. The tender intimacy of the gesture made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

"What I'm asking is...would you want to make this official? Give us a real go as more than just mates?"

Y/N felt like the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. She had imagined hearing those words from Harry's lips more times than she could count. But now that he had actually said them, she was temporarily stunned into silence.

Seeing her speechlessness, Harry chuckled warmly. "No need to answer right this second, love. I know it's a lot to process coming from your formerly famous client-turned-mate. Just think it over, yeah?"

Y/N finally managed to find her voice, emboldened by the caring warmth in Harry's eyes. She turned her palm over, lacing their fingers together decisively.

"You don't have to give me time, Harry. I've been crazy about you for ages if I'm honest. Of course I want to give us a real shot. I can't think of anything I want more."

The brilliant smile that spread across Harry's face sent tingles down Y/N's spine. He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing a soft kiss there.

"Then it's official. We're a couple now."

Y/N felt giddy, like the words were a dream. Her and Harry Styles, the man she'd fancied for years, were entering a relationship together. What were the odds?

"Should we, uh, keep things professional at the spa still?" she asked, suddenly wondering if their new situation would make things weird.

To her surprise, Harry shook his head adamantly. "Actually, I was thinking of finding a new masseuse. I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward position having to work on your boyfriend's body every week, tempting as that sounds."

He gave her a heated look and Y/N felt a rush of arousal, imagining all the new layers their massages would take on now.

"Fair point. I don't think I could keep things totally professional anymore either," she admitted with a coy smile.

Harry signaled for the check, keeping Y/N's hand linked with his posessively. "Then it's settled. I'm all yours now, darling. Though fair warning, I'll expect my massages in private from here on out."

The tone of his voice made Y/N shiver pleasantly in anticipation. Oh, this romance was going to be incredibly fun.

***

Over the next few months, Y/N felt like she was living in a wonderful dream. She and Harry were inseparable, their bonds of friendship strengthening into an unbreakable foundation as their passion grew.

They went on romantic dates, attended glamorous celebrity events, and spent long cozy nights together at Harry's place. Y/N felt herself falling harder and harder for the kind, charismatic man who never failed to dote on her or cheer her on.

One evening, Harry surprised her by having a limo pick her up from work at the spa. Y/N raised her eyebrows in amused confusion as she slid into the sleek black car, wondering what her doting boyfriend was up to now.

To her delighted shock, Harry was waiting inside wearing a dashing tuxedo. He held out a rose to her with a warm smile. 

"My love, you look as breathtaking as ever. Are you ready for our night on the town?"

Y/N laughed giddily, feeling like a princess in a fairytale as Harry showered her with kisses. "You'll have to tell me where we're going, love!"

"Well, first we have dinner reservations at the city's most exclusive new restaurant. And afterward..." Harry trailed off teasingly before pulling a pair of tickets from his inner jacket pocket. "I've arranged for us to have a private vip loge at the opera!"

Y/N's jaw dropped. She knew Harry took great pride in planning thoughtful, romantic gestures, but she was blown away by this grand occasion. The evening was straight out of a storybook.

"Harry, this is...I can't even put into words," she breathed in amazement. "You are the singularly most incredible, thoughtful man in existence. How'd I ever get so lucky?"

Harry just grinned boyishly, giving her a wink as the limo pulled away from the curb. "You deserve all of this and more, darling. Tonight is just a start."

The rest of the evening passed in a blissful whirlwind. Y/N and Harry sipped gourmet cocktails as candles flickered between them at the restaurant. Their heated looks and brushing footsies beneath the table made the anticipation crackle deliciously. 

After the stunning five-star cuisine, Harry surprised Y/N again by hiring a violinist at the opera to serenade them privately in the vip loge while the show played out on stage. He held her close as they swayed to the rich, emotive music, looking into each other's eyes adoringly.

By the time they arrived back home in the limo, Y/N could barely keep her hands off her romantic prince of a boyfriend. She attacked his mouth hungrily as he lifted her into his arms, stumbling inside as they continued to devour each other.

That night was a blur of frantic lovemaking, tearing at clothes and tangling in the bed sheets as release was desperately chased between them. Y/N had never felt so thoroughly worshiped and cherished as when Harry was passionately laying claim to every inch of her body, branding her as his own with his scorching caresses.

"You're everything, Y/N," he groaned into the slick skin of her neck as she writhed beneath him. "My whole bloody universe, all the stars in the sky. Nothing means more to me than you, my perfect girl."

After, when the frenzied haze cleared, Harry held Y/N with indescribable tenderness like she was the most precious thing in existence. Which to him, she absolutely was. Her hands stroked through his sweat-dampened chestnut locks as he pressed fervent kisses to her collarbones, her sternum, everywhere his full lips could reach.

"How did I ever get so lucky?" he murmured, more to himself than her as he gazed up at Y/N reverently. "My entire world in these arms."

Y/N had no words, rendered speechless by the depth of love emanating from her man's bright green eyes. So she simply held him closer, letting her touch express everything her heart was too overwhelmed to put into phrases.

Of course, there were still hints of Harry's internal struggles with fame and the immense pressures of his career. The more Y/N got to know him intimately, the more she saw the tightly-wound tension that still crept into his muscles and posture frequently.

It killed her to see Harry in pain or overwhelmed, dealing silently with the weight of Hollywood's demands. So she made it her mission to take care of him, just like when she was his masseuse but in more intimate ways now.

After an especially grueling day of meetings and recording sessions, Y/N would draw Harry a hot bath infused with relaxing essential oils. She would gently undress him, unable to resist pressing soothing kisses along the protesting knots in his shoulders and back. Harry would let out deep rumbles of pleasure at her therapeutic touch.

One draining evening after he had done promo interviews all day followed by a high-energy concert, Harry came home to their penthouse utterly spent. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, shoulders hunched under the weight of his weariness.

Taking one look at her love in such a depleted state tore at Y/N's heartstrings. She quickly sprang into action, knowing just what he needed to recharge and find his center again.

"Go have a long, hot shower, babe," she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Harry's furrowed brow. "I'll take care of everything else."

While Harry dragged himself to the bathroom, Y/N set about creating the perfect soothing atmosphere in their bedroom. She dimmed the lights to a warm golden glow and lit a few spicy aromatherapy candles. Then she pulled out her professional massage table and arranged it with all her favorite oils and lotions.

By the time Harry emerged from the steamy bathroom wearing nothing but a plush robe, Y/N had the space utterly transformed into a private spa oasis. Soft nature soundscapes played lightly in the background, blending with the flicker of candlelight to create an ambiance of pure tranquility.

Harry's brow unfurrowed slightly as he took in the scene, a small smile playing at his lips. "You're too good to me, darling," he rumbled in that gruff, sleepy tone Y/N adored.

"Mmm, not possible," Y/N assured with a soft smile, helping Harry shrug off his robe so he could climb onto the table completely nude. 

She warmed up some of the aromatic sandalwood oil between her palms before beginning her sensual ministrations along the perfect terrain of Harry's back and shoulders. His tight muscles instantly began loosening under her skilled touch.

Harry let out a deep, relieved groan as Y/N's strong hands found each knotted snarl and gently worked them loose. He practically melted into the table, boneless and pliant beneath her.

"S'why I love you so much," he slurred, the profound tension seeping from his body. "Always know just how to take care of me, dove."

Y/N hummed in contentment, leaning down to press a line of soothing kisses along the dips of Harry's spine. Between her mouth and her fingers spreading hot oil into every bunched muscle group, he was soon utterly liquid and relaxed. 

This went on for almost two blissful hours, Y/N taking her time to reverently cover every last inch of Harry's body in her healing touch. At one point she gently turned him over to tend to his chest, abdomen, and the handful of other areas he accumulated strain.

By the time she was finished, Harry was borderline unconscious - eyes hooded, face perfectly lax, breaths coming in deep and even pulls. Y/N trailed one last stroke down the miles of inked and toned skin he had exposed to her. Her beautiful boy, wholly at peace once more.

Pressing tender kisses to each of Harry's closed eyelids, Y/N carefully covered him with a plush duvet before slipping out of the bedroom. As much as she would love to stay and watch over him, she knew he needed to fully surrender to restorative sleep now.

Y/N headed to the kitchen, deciding to prepare one of Harry's favorite home cooked meals for when he woke feeling replenished and ravenous. As she moved around the space chopping vegetables and searing chicken, her mind couldn't help drifting to thoughts of the wonderful man in the other room.

She felt so unutterably lucky to be the one person in Harry's life allowed to take care of his weary body and soul in such an intimate way. All the fame, fortune, and success in the world was meaningless to Y/N, compared to earning his unwavering trust and being able to soothe away his struggles whenever they arose.

When Harry finally padded into the kitchen a couple hours later, he looked noticeably refreshed and at peace. There was a soft, dazed expression playing on his features as his bright eyes landed on Y/N in an oversized shirt cooking away.

"There she is," he rasped in that deep, gorgeously gravelly morning voice of his. "Most beautiful sight in the world."

Y/N grinned, warmth blossoming in her chest at the open adoration on Harry's face. Even after going through a draining day, he still couldn't help being an outrageous charmer with her.

"Did you get enough beauty sleep, love?" she teased lightly, moving across the room to wind her arms around his trim waist.

Harry hummed in contentment, ducking his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. He inhaled her familiar honeysuckle scent deeply, as if letting the aroma soothe his very soul.

"More than enough. I feel reborn, all thanks to you taking such incredible care of me as always." One of his large hands trailed up and down her back. "You spoil me rotten, darling."

"And you love every second of it," Y/N murmured with a soft laugh, tilting her chin up to search his sparkling green gaze.

The tender look Harry returned her with stole her breath away, like it still did even after all this time together. His calloused thumb traced the line of her cheekbone reverently.

"How could I not?" His low rumble sent tingles down her spine. "When you pour so much love and devotion into everything you do for me. Makes me fall deeper every damn day, dove."

As their mouths slanted together in a searing, drugging kiss, Y/N couldn't dream of a response. Because there were truly no words sufficient enough to capture the cosmic love between them in that moment.

Of course, their intimate times weren't always just about relaxation either. Y/N's massages frequently led to much more heated activities once Harry was completely de-stressed, his desire for her building as she worked her magic on his body.

Harry loved nothing more than to suddenly flip their positions, pinning Y/N to the bed and attacking her neck and collarbone with hot, hungry kisses. His hands would grip her curves possessively as she writhed beneath him.

"You've woken the beast, darling," he would growl in her ear, making her shiver with delicious anticipation. "Now you'll have to tame him."

Their lovemaking was always passionate and intense, the depth of their connection shining through in how perfectly in-sync their bodies were. Y/N never felt more beautiful, powerful, and utterly cherished than when Harry was worshiping every inch of her with his hands, lips, and tongue.

Sometimes their couplings started not from a massage, but simply from them stealing heated looks while going about their day. Like the time Y/N was baking in the kitchen, shaking her hips to the beat of the pop song playing while she rolled out pie dough, careless and free of the world around her.

She didn't notice Harry sidle up behind her until his strong arms wound around her waist, tugging her flush against his solid chest. His lips found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking a blistering path up to the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy.

"Look at you," he rumbled in that gravelly morning tone of his as Y/N gasped and arched back into his sturdy frame. "Being all sexy and domestic, tempting a bloke with something fierce."

Y/N bit back a throaty moan as Harry's nimble fingers slid beneath her loose shirt, calloused palms blazing a path up her ribcage. "Harry, what-what are you doing?" she breathed, though she already knew the answer if the hardness pressing into her backside was any indication.

"Having a nibble of my favorite snack," he replied cheekily, punctuating his words with a sharp nip to her earlobe that made her inhale shakily, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest.

Before she could really process what was happening, Harry had easily turned Y/N in his arms and hoisted her up onto the wide kitchen counter. She reflexively wrapped her toned legs around his trim waist to anchor them together as he attacked her mouth in a desperate kiss.

His tongue plundered deep, tasting every crevice as Y/N clutched at the dense muscle of his biceps and back. One of his large hands cupped her jaw to angle her how he wanted while the other palmed her breast through the thin fabric, brushing a calloused thumb over the peaked nipple there.

Y/N whimpered into Harry's mouth, already spiraling from how quickly his talented hands and lips had her arousal spiking. He was single handedly unraveling her till she was putty in his hands, the only thought in her mind was what he was planning to do to her next..

Finally, Harry broke the filthy clash of their mouths, panting harshly as he pinned Y/N with a look of pure hunger. His green eyes were near black with want, wandering possessively over her flushed state.

"You make me so bloody crazy, dove," he rasped in a low rumble that had her pulse kicking up another notch. "I can't keep my hands off you."

Y/N whimpered at the pure need saturating her boyfriend's deep tone. She squirmed deliciously against him, desperate for more friction.

"Then don't," she managed to gasp out through her daze of arousal. "Take what you want from me, Harry. I'm all yours."

The low, guttural groan Harry let out at her breathless plea, very nearly had Y/N coming undone right then. His smoldering gaze somehow burned even hotter with carnal intent.

Before she could process what was happening, Harry had ridden her of her shirt and shorts in two effortless tugs. His big palms instantly settled at the curves of her waist, thumbs dipping beneath the lace waistband of her underwear teasingly.

"Look at you...so gorgeous and flushed, ready and waiting for me," he praised in a low rasp, leaning in to drag his tongue up the slender column of her throat. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you baby?"

Y/N was too far gone in the spiral of her own pleasure to respond with anything more coherent than a choked-off whine that had him thickening in his pants. She writhed against Harry's solid frame, silently pleading for him to end her torment.

Seeming to take the hint, Harry ducked his head to mouth along the swell of her breasts and sternum, layering nips and sucking kisses until her skin was covered with marks of his devotion. Y/N arched her back hair sticking to her rapidly dampening skin as breathy moans tumbled from her parted lips.

"So responsive for me, dove," Harry grunted in approval, his big hands sliding around to shamelessly cup and squeeze her backside. "So perfect at taking everything I give you."

With one swift movement, he tugged her skimpy panties aside and plunged two ring clad fingertips through her dripping folds. Y/N cried out shamelessly at the long-awaited relief, her hips bucking forward uncontrollably to maximize the delicious stretch and burn.

"Christ, so wet and tight," Harry ground out, sounding utterly wrecked as he swirled his fingers around her throbbing entrance teasingly. "Made just for me, isn't that right lovely? Made to take my fingers, my tongue..."

His voice dropped to a sinful baritone as he slowly pumped his thick digits in and out of her fluttering, slick heat. Y/N let out a shrill whine of complete surrender, eyes rolling back as she fully gave herself over to the glorious sensations sparking along every nerve-ending.

"Made to take every hard inch of my cock, pushing deep inside this perfect little cunt," Harry continued in that gravelly and raspy tone, leaning down to whisper the obscene words directly against her damp skin.

True to form, his skilled fingers had Y/N right on the edge of shattering with dizzying speed. Her thighs quivered with the coiled tension, inner walls fluttering madly around the deliciously intrusive stretch of his thick digits.

Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of the exquisite torment, when stars were bursting behind her eyelids, Harry abruptly curled his fingers upward in a devastating stroke against that magic spot inside her. Y/N's entire body convulsed as she broke into a thousand kaleidoscopic pieces, a strangled scream of pure euphoria ripping free from her throat.

By the time her vision finally began refocusing, her loose limbs were draped bonelessly over Harry's shoulders, her head spinning in dizzy bliss. She clearly registered the achingly slow push and pull of his fingers continuing to work through her fluttering, overstimulated cunt.

Harry's burning gaze was locked onto her sweat-slicked, flushed skin as he methodically wrung out every last spasm of ecstasy from her boneless frame. The soft, reverent look of awe on his handsome face stole what little breath Y/N had managed to recapture.

"Look at you, darling...absolutely wrecked for me," he husked "So stunning like this, falling apart on my fingers. All fo’ me"

Despite feeling completely satisfied, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of desire at Harry's words.  He always had been equal parts tender and filthy in his erotic praise and endearments.

Case in point, his next words as he slid his glistening fingers into his mouth to taste her essence were absolutely scorching.

"Clean that essence up for me like a good girl, dove...because I'm going to need you soaked and begging again in about five minutes."

Y/N let out a breathy moan at the promise in his words, knowing full well her legs were going to absolutely sore tonight, her knees wobbly and unable to walk by morning.

She nodded around the slick digits, swirling her tongue around the fullness of them as he sighed at the way she sucked his fingers.

“God, I wish it was m’ cock behind those pretty lips, dove” he pulled them out, placing his hand right over her naked thigh, “but I want it inside your pretty pussy for now”

She nodded, too awestruck to actua;ly process her mind to his words.He shook her head at her, pulling down the pants he had put on earlier.

“Got me so hard. Could’ve burst from listening to you being so filthy for me”

Her cheeks flushed at his risque words, thighs pushing together as his cock sprang free, the angry, red tip throbbing as he took himself into his palm, stroking his length to relieve some of the tension.

She pushed her thighs above each other, feeling utterly flustered and dizzy. He was gong to fuck her, and memories of all the times he had, flooding her mind like ocean water.

Finally, he let go of himself, parting her thighs and slotting himself in between. She let out a broken gasp, mouth going dry as she took a look at her own desperation, red and swollen, yet, so needy and wet.

“Could never get enough of you” he said into her mouth, swallowing her gasp as his cock stretched her open deliciously. A broken moan made its way past her lips, her quivering legs wrapping around him as he slid himself inside her. Her wetness swallowed him up, her pussy gushing with arousal as he angled her hips higher.

“Good, fucking–so damn tight for me” eh cursed, her mouth parting open into another broken sob as he thrust in and out of her, her wet walls taking him in so well. He felt so heavenly, his cock buried inside his pretty, so pretty and perfect girl.

“How did I stay so long without you? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, and she opened her closed eyes. His hand reached between her parted legs, his skilled digits teasing her clit, while his practised strokes made her fall apart under him.

“Oh fuck, yeah–right there” she begged him to keep fucking her, his cock hitting the deepest of spots inside her. It had her mind going numb, her toes curling as he fucked her with delirious intent.

“Pussy’s so good–:” he praised her once again, his fingers finally landing on her clit, a sharp spank that made her cum right then and there.

She arched her back, her head falling back till it touched the counter. She grabbed her nipples, pinching them as he rubbed circles over her clit, his cock fucking her at a pace that had her screaming and begging for more.

“Oh fuck, Harr–Harry, oh my fucking god”

He grabbed her hips, laying her down flat as she choked on another sob, her wetness gushing out and wetting the cold marble counter. Harry was grinning and smirking, watching her fall apart beneath him. He was the only one who could make her mind go absolutely detached, the only thought in her mind being of him. His name. His cock. His hands. The way they made her feel.

“Her orgasm prolonged as he kept her on the edge, her pussy short circuiting is the overstimulation kicked in. She was sore, two orgasms after a day of work would do that to her.

“Harry–” she pouted, her hands reaching out for his, to which he immediately complied, intertwining their fingers.

“Just a little longer, Almost done”

He promised, and began fucking her at the vicious pace again. The room echoed with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, her hips bruised as he sucked a breath in, teetering on the edge of sweet, sweet release.

He came inside her that day, his cock leaking inside her warm, warm cunt till he was fully spent and empty, her cunt full of his load as he stayed inside a little longer, relishing in the way she fluttered around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all he had.

He kissed her knuckles, murmuring sweet words of love as they lay on the counter for a while, her bake affair long forgotten, since she had already gotten a taste of something much sweeter.

***

The next morning, as Y/N was featherlight kissing her way down Harry's chiseled torso with the intent of rousing him for another sensual round, her lips brushed against something unfamiliar on his skin. Frowning, she pushed back the bedsheets to get a better look.

There, etched in thick black ink just above Harry's hipbone, was a new tattoo she had never noticed before. It was a series of numbers, almost like...coordinates?

Y/N felt her breath catch as she recognized the distinctly precise numerical patterning. She had taken enough coding classes to spot geographic coordinates when she saw them.

"Harry..." she gulped, tracing the new ink with a trembling fingertip. "What is this? Why do you have map coordinates tattooed on your body?"

The sleepy, blissed-out expression on Harry's face instantly shuttered closed as soon as the words left Y/N's lips. He seemed to almost freeze for a moment, grimacing ever-so-slightly as he struggled to keep his expression neutral.

"It's...nothing to concern yourself with, darling," he finally replied in a tone that was just a bit too overly-casual. "Just a drunken mistake from a mate's stag night a few weeks back. Doesn't mean anything, I swear."

But Y/N knew her boyfriend too well to be convinced by his nonchalant dismissal. She searched his bright green eyes, unable to shake the feeling that there was much more to this strange new tattoo than he was letting on.

What secrets could Harry possibly be keeping from her? And just where exactly would those map coordinates lead if she dared to follow them?

The delicious haze of their previous intimacy was shattered, replaced by a gnawing sense that Y/N was missing out on some important truth about her boyfriend's life. And she knew their relationship could never regain that blissful closeness until she uncovered what Harry was hiding...

(next part)

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! i want to do a part 2, but this one's long, so we'll see! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[sushirrrry]

PART OF US - PART ONE.

a harry styles x original character, 4-part short-story. themes: dadrry, lhh, coming of age, contemporary romance set in NYC. CW: explicit sex, language, & conversations surrounding mental health. 20.4k words. follow me on twitter @/sadprose_em & wattpad @/sushirrrry for notifications. enjoy <3

Spring.

In a moment of panic, Sofia stopped.

"Fuck," Sofia dug into the contents of the small purse on her arm, knowing that she wasn't going to find anything deeper in the tiny clutch, no matter how hard she tried. "I forgot my phone."

Nat looked at her friend with an annoyed face as they approached the entrance to the bar, her feet slowing down to a a few steps before stopping completely.

"You're kidding me." Nat said, a grunt following, watching as Sofia searched through the small clutch that was quite obviously not holding the device, but merely a lipstick or two.

It wasn't there, but Sofia didn't want to have to go all the way back to her apartment for it if she didn't have to. Her eyes looked up at her friend who rolled her eyes right back.

"I'm sorry, Nat– we don't have to go back. It's fine, just make sure to keep an eye on me, please? I don't want to get stolen."

Nat grabbed Sofia's arm before linking them together as they walked through the doors of the building, almost just the answer that Sofia was looking for. The sound of their heels clicked together against the cement in a beautiful harmony– the girl's night out kind of harmony.

"You look incredible tonight so I would take it as a compliment, personally."

The martini bar where they would be meeting Nat's friend and coworker– who Sofia knew to be passionate about the espresso martinis in the city– Niall, was going to meet them on the rooftop bar.

Sofia had only decided to go because this wasn't just a one-on-one meeting with Nat and Niall, but a bunch of other people from Nat's office would be there, as well. Nat had asked if Sofia could tag along, which meant that Sofia was now dressed in some knee-high boots and a black mini skirt that fit like a glove.

Sofia was feisty but introverted; she knew what she wanted and would talk back to those who questioned her. She was excited to meet this friend of Nat's knowing she had talked about him in quite a bright light– even more so because she knew that this could benefit her, too.

"Remember, Niall's bringing that friend of his," She raised her eyes at Sofia, "From what I hear around the office, it's a friend that's quite easy on the eyes. Apparently, his presence at the Christmas party was way better than the shitty gifts our office tried to pawn off too."

Even in her best feeling, highest confidence moments, self-doubt trickled into the conversation.

"So, why do you think he'd even be interested in me? There's going to be so many more people there," Sofia asked. "Plus, how do you know he's my type?"

"I don't know what his type is," Nat looked at her friend as they stepped into the elevator, "But I can't imagine that you wouldn't be, even for a night."

Sofia pulled at the hem of her skirt, but Nat pulled her friend's hand away before giving her that look. The one that Sofia got quite often– it was a look of not just overthinking, but over analyzing any particular scenario that may arise. The elevator they had gotten into stopped on the top floor, the subtle noise of the bar ringing out as they walked along, and back outside.

Subtle breezes of the spring were feeling quite warm as the girls had been wearing skirts. Sofia's being a solid black, a long-sleeve blouse and leather jacket on top. She wore it with her favorite black boots that gave her a bit of height. Her dark hair cascades down her back; dark leather and dark, shiny hair that sparkles when the night light hits it.

The Brooklyn bar was one of Nat's favorites, she had been talking about going out all week. It wasn't that she was trying to get Sofia out of her comfort zone, but she knew that there wasn't anything to lose.

It was about taking chances.

She knew her friend was a good person– she had a sense of humor that not everyone understood but was appreciated by everyone, she had thoughts that bordered every side, and the empathy that she held was something that only a few people could ever relate to.

Nat felt that Sofia was special; Sofia felt she was misunderstood. When Nat had talked about Sofia in the office, Niall had seemingly believed that he had a friend that was quite the same. It was like shooting two stars had both been spotted in the same part of the galaxy.

This wasn't a set-up, if Nat was going to be asked. Instead, it was a coworker get-together that just happened to have eyes and hearts on a particular two. But as she tucked Sofia's hair behind her ears, and handed her a lip gloss for a touch-up, she knew exactly what she was getting her friend into.

"Oh, over there!" Nat had spotted her loudest friend, surrounded by a few others who were laughing at a joke they must've missed. Sofia had a tight smile on her face as they approached the small group; she didn't like meeting new people because she never knew how to start conversations, she just knew how to finish them and walk away.

Nat and Sofia were still linked in their elbows as they approached, Niall immediately noticing the two girls.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, the cocktail– as espresso martini, obviously– was icy in his hands as he gave a soft grin to them. "There you are."

"Here we are," Nat suggested, her eyes moving to the man a step behind Niall at the bar. He was facing the bartender as he seemed to be chatting the guy up, asking for specifics in the cocktail he ordered. He held the small toothpick with an olive in his fingers, twirling it around the glass.

Sofia had noticed him, but her eyes hadn't allowed her to stare too long at his side profile. Even if maybe she wanted to.

"Guys, this is my best friend– this is Sofia, I've talked about her plenty, you all probably know her life story" Nat giggled, before turning to introduce her coworkers, "Fia, this is Niall, Dana, Marie, and–" Her eyes landed on Niall's friend who had joined the conversation with a fresh martini held in his fingers. The way that his hands spread across the glass made Sofia's heart beat quicker than usual, almost skipping a few.

Niall looked back at his friend before introducing, "Sorry, this is my mate, Harry. We went to college together. He just moved to the city a few months back."

Nat bit her lip, Sofia couldn't keep her eyes on him as she felt the blush by just looking at the way his lips molded around the glass as he took a generous sip, before swallowing and nodding.

"Lovely to meet you." The deep voice of the man surprises them.

Sofia is taken by him, their eyes meeting immediately as she watches him shyly smile in her direction. It's a moment where Sofia feels eyes on her as if this was supposed to be more than it was– as if their connection was meant to be electrifying at first glance.

And she wasn't going to deny that there was an electric field that almost made her skin crawl with desire... but she wouldn't admit that.

"Great to meet you," Nat stuck her hand out and he graciously took it with a smile. "Where are you in the city?"

"I actually live around the corner," Harry tells her, his sharp accent is soft but bold– like a dark roasted coffee with cream, "I've been here about six months so I'm starting to really get used to it. Americans are kind of– no offense– bloody rude."

"America is built on colonialism, so I think rudeness is a bit inherent." Sofia stated; it was the quick wit that Nat knew. Her shyness came from within whenever she was able to get a word in, which made Nat smile at her friend's attempt.

Niall made an audible oof sound, holding onto his chest as if hurt by the comment. But Harry just tilted his head as he glared at her with the most subtle grin.

"I'm going to get a drink," Nat interrupted, looking at Niall and their other coworkers as Niall turned to follow her to the bar. Sofia felt her friend leave her side, leaving her standing there as she looked around the rooftop.

The only person standing still was Harry, who had already received his drink and was standing a bit closer to her now, possibly wanting to offer more conversation.

"Are you from here?" Harry offered, taking another small sip from the wide-rimmed glass.

"Uh, no," Sofia shook her head, "I'm originally from France. People think it's a speech impediment, but it's just because my dad refused to speak English at home, so I wasn't really able to practice it a lot, and it left me unable to pronounce my R's well."

Her long dark hair and soft features were gifts from her mother who grew up in Beijing, moving to France when she was eighteen– her father was French and Italian, which left her being a mutt of sorts. It was a mixture of culture and a radiance of knowledge that left her traveling the world at a young age to visit family here and there, but also experiencing everywhere below the surface level.

"Je connais un peu de français," Harry smiles before pinching his fingers together, "juste un peu."

Sofia's eyes lit up, giving her a small smile before she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"I got you this," Nat handed her the orange cocktail that had a small straw, before Sofia handed it back.

"I'm not drinking– I didn't bring my phone, so I don't want something to happen." She shook her head, watching as Nat moved her eyes between her and Harry both.

Nat looked up at Harry with a smile Sofia knew was laced with her own intentions, before handing the drink to him, "Maybe she'll take it if you offer it to her, then."

Harry's brows raised as he held the drink between his fingers, feeling the coldness before he watched Nat walk back through the bar. With the subtle movement, her friend had disappeared once again.

It left the two standing there alone again, which Sofia felt more of the pressure of the set-up currently occurring between the two of them. She wondered how much of this Harry had known, and how much he had been fooled too. The man in front of her was attending, though. He seemed quite intrigued with her, not trying to force his way out of a conversation just because it was a bit uncomfortable.

Harry's lip curled a bit, the smirk on his face becoming a bit more of a blush as he extended his arm to offer the drink back to her as her friend had suggested.

"So, would you like this drink, then?" He bit his lip, hoping that she would at least take this one from him. Her hand steadily took the drink from his fingers as she sheepishly shook her head.

"Sorry about all of them." Sofia muttered out, taking a sip of the cocktail.

When her eyes raised back to him, she noticed that he had been looking at her with an admiration that she wasn't entirely sure she had felt before. It was an honesty, like he had never told a lie, and would never think to.

For the first time in a while, Sofia felt seen– like he had really been taken with her. She stood with her hand wrapped around her drink, looking around at the scenery that surrounded them.

"So, you're French?" Harry licked his lips, his hand moved into his front pocket, the dark pants were fitting him snug, "You grew up there?"

"Oui," Sofia clicked her tongue, "Um, yes and no. We spent half the year in Boston and half in Nice. My dad was a banker, and he did a lot of work overseas. But we traveled with him to stay as a family. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, and she kept my brother and I. During the holiday, we would travel to see my mother's family who still lived in China. We were always on a plane, it felt like."

Harry nodded, listening actively to the story she told of her upbringing. She didn't know why she kept speaking so much, but feeling that he was actively listening made it feel upwardly special and like he didn't have anywhere else to be or anyone else to listen to.

"My last name is Treaveau." She offered him another small detail of her background. It may have also been a small detail that he could keep in his brain for trying to track her down later.

He wasn't looking for an out this time. That felt unusual to him, as he settled on the doe-like eyes mesmerizing him.

"That sounds like a lot. But really incredible." He told her, his words having weight to them like he truly believed that it was incredible. "What brings you to New York, then?"

Sofia took a deep breath as she feels like maybe this isn't the right time to have that discussion. Rather, she wants to keep the conversation as far away from Kendall as possible. But, it was her life story and the parts that she didn't want to discuss were seemingly always there.

But, she decides to just answer it without any further explanation: "I moved here with a partner after college and it just became home. Settled some roots here– my job, friends." With a quick nod, she took another sip to stop her from speaking any more on the topic.

Harry hummed, "I see." He shifted on his weight as he noticed the conversation that looked like it stopped as Sofia's body language pointed out that she was uncomfortable with that question, and, more fittingly, that answer.

He knew that from his interviewing he did, watching as the person in front of him started to redirect their body language or try to look away from him as if that would take the situation away. He knew when asking questions and trying to get a response, body language told it all. If he had one talent, it was being able to read someone– read their facial expressions and the way they interacted with him about it.

Instead, Harry offered a different type of way to ease her nerves.

"Would you like a different drink, then?" Harry asked, his fingers wrapped around the wide mouth of his own martini glass. He could see her eyes flicker as she smiled up at him. "Doesn't seem like you wanted the one your friend gave you."

"Um," Fia answered, a soft giggle, "I think I'm okay. This is fine. Not my preference. Not even really a huge drinker, but when I do, this wouldn't be what I prefer."

Harry hummed, narrowing his brows as he bit on his lip in response to her declining his offer, so he dug a bit deeper into it.

"What do you like, then?" He asked.

She purses her lips, "Long walks on the beach. The offspring of a long island iced tea and a sex on the beach."

Harry felt the edge of his lip tilt up at her quick wit at the ridiculous joke. His blood rushes a bit quicker, before he nods.

"In my part of town, we call them 'sex on long island'," He quickly joked back, the dry humor making her roll her eyes.

Instead, he licked over his lips and tried to make more conversation around her now. "So, why are you here, at a martini bar, if you don't like to drink?" He took a sip of his own, the sweetness of the vodka coating his tongue, "I'm certain there's more fun things for you to do in Brooklyn on a Friday night."

The fact was: she really didn't know why she was there other than she had been convinced it could be fun.

As Nat had persuaded her out of her apartment, she thought of all of the things she could have been doing tonight.

Staying home and watching the new season of Great British Bake Off seemed enjoyable enough, but her extroverted friend pushed further for her to come meet this friend of a friend of a friend– however the connection was. And while she wasn't disappointed– far from it– she couldn't answer his questions without smiling. He pushed back on her attempts at bits of flirting, meeting her at her own game.

"I was told I'd have a good time." She felt herself try to hold back the smile, hoping to make him sweat a bit. But she knew she came off a bit strong; her humor and her lightness didn't mix too well. "Is that an alright answer?"

Harry used his tongue to lick over his bottom lip as he stared up at her with the greenest eyes she had seen. The curls that settled on his forehead were messy, but placed properly. They were quite long, around his neck and shoulders.

The silk of his green shirt under the black blazer seemed like it needed a criminal investigation on the salesperson who sold him it, the longer she stared at him. It was opened to reveal he had tattoos across his collarbone, but not open enough for her to make out the design.

"Sure. You're welcome to make your own choices," he tutted. "Just trying to understand you, that's all."

Sofia rolled her lips into her mouth before she turned to the bartender, asking for a Diet Coke with a hint of lime. Harry smiled at the request, eyes staying on her side profile. She took another sip of her freshly tipped-off drink before returning her eyes to him, sparkling and flirtatious. She noticed the way he paid attention, knowing he wasn't trying to leave.

When she ordered, he nodded towards the bartender, "Put that on my tab."

Sofia looked up at him, shaking her head, "No– really, Harry–"

"I'd like another one of these," Harry smiled at the bartender, pushing his empty martini glass towards them, "Shaken, chilled glass, and filthy."

Her eyes darted to him quickly, but she was ultimately caught. He had already been staring at her. The martini was poured into the chilled glass before Harry thanked the bartender again. He took a sip before they started to move back out of the way, towards a standing table towards the edge of the rooftop. It overlooked down onto the streets; Sofia blinked a few times as she noticed the height, taking herself away from it, and setting her glass on the small table.

There was a breeze; it pushed its way through Harry's long hair settling on his shoulders as he looked towards Manhattan and the skyline that was illuminating the city. Not a patch of darkness in sight.

There was silence– an odd silence, because she knew that there were many people around them, music was playing, the city was below them, but her eyes were fixed on his side profile and the way that he stood in front of her.

Her breath hitched a minute before she let the bold words fall from her mouth. "I-I'd like to talk more about myself over dinner. If you're interested in understanding me, that is. You can ask me, if you want."

When she replayed the words in her head, she wanted to eat them all back and take them out of existence. Not only did they sound completely outrageous, but she knew how egotistical they made her sound.

Harry only stared at her, but his smile kept steady.

"I should, shouldn't I?" His accent rang out as he poked his cheek with his tongue. Her stomach flipped when the dimple in his smile popped. "That's a good idea, Sofia. To ask you to dinner. Why hadn't I thought of that?"

She breathed through her nose with a chuckle, "I didn't mean to sound so-"

"Forward?" He finished her sentence before taking another sip of his drink. The olives bobbed in the glass, his eyes just over the rim. "Something tells me you like being forward, but I think you're being a bit shy with me."

Sofia blinked a few times before she held her shoulders back, pressing away from his conclusion of her. "Where would you take me?"

Harry shook his head with a cocky smile that added blush to her cheeks. "Definitely not a martini bar, I'll tell you that much. What do you like?"

"There's that question again," Fia rolled her eyes, jokingly, but she shrugged her shoulders with no pressure, "Nothing too fancy, I guess."

"I can take you to the best chippy on this side of the Atlantic– up in the Financial District," Harry bites his lip as he tries to chuckle but his teeth bare a smile, "I know the area pretty well– I work up there, actually."

"Will it impress me?" She asks, scrunching her nose a bit.

Harry chuckles but shakes his head, "Don't know– you're very hard to read, so I'm walking on eggshells here. I'm trying to impress you, if that makes a difference"

"You're doing well, I'll tell you that– the only bone I'm going to throw at you, though." Sofia tucks some hair behind her ear as she realizes how hard of a time she's giving him. She takes a small step forward so her hip pops a bit. "I'd love to go to fish and chips with you, but I don't eat fish."

"Course you don't," He shakes his head, "You're killing me, you know."

"We all die eventually, I don't think I'm exacerbating it." Her humor stuck as Harry tilted his head back. Her eyes fell to the way that his curls bounced as they fell back a bit at the motion.

"My goodness," Harry shook his head with that eager smirk, "You're really good at this. And I'd like you to recede your statement because I do think you're exacerbating it. I don't feel as young as I used to."

"Good at standing my ground? Or good at fighting off misogyny while our friends think that I'll just fall into your graces like the start of a silly romance book?"

Harry's dimple popped and Sofia drew in a breath when she noticed how it changed his face. It was such a soft feature that drew away so much animosity and an unrelieved tension that she felt between her thighs.

"I'm sorry– is this not the start of our story?" He questioned her now, watching as she sighed outwardly. "Maybe it's sexist for you to think that you should be the one falling for me– I think I'm the one clearly begging at your feet here."

She liked him. Oh, she really liked him.

She knew instantly that she wasn't the type to take him home, but he was certainly the type that she would make an exception for if he suggested anything. It was a classic question in her own brain; was he just as charming behind closed doors as he was standing there in an open bar with a few drinks already in him? That she wasn't sure about.

But what she did know was that she was slowly watching as his walls were broken with every word she said.

"Is that a line that gets a lot of girls?"

Harry took a moment to stare at her. She shifted her weight, now under his eyes moving between her own as she nibbled on her lip as she waited for an equally witty response.

"I'm very enamored by you, Sofia." He told her softly, curiosity oozing from him.

Sofia tilted her head a bit as she questioned him yet again.

"Enamored or infatuated?" She bit back, but her smile kept her fiercely attractive to him. The energy was just a plus.

"Infatuation would suggest that there's a short-lived passion. I don't believe our story is short-lived," The vodka may have spoken there, but the tint of his blush was illuminating him.

"Oh, is that so?" She teased, leaning against the table then. "What makes you say that?"

Her eyes met his as Harry took in a breath. She couldn't have imagined the man in front of her being any more civil, any more kind to her. He maintained eye contact, blushing as she teased. She hadn't a doubt that he could be like any of the others she had dated in this city.

Something about him felt genuine; it felt like he opened his heart further than she was used to, maybe. She wasn't too sure, because his exterior would suggest he was a bit rugged.

His shoulder length dark curls were tousled and gave her the impression that he hadn't done anything about a haircut on purpose, not for lack of resources. His clean jawline was maintained and structured. But he was dressed well– he knew that he looked good, but without effort which worried her.

But she could tell that he spoke from the heart.

Sofia had no doubt he could have fallen in love easily– could have easily been the love of someone's life. So, in her brain, she wondered what on earth could have been wrong with him. He played the game with her– a game that was usually pushed back on rarely. It was a simple game of cat-and-mouse that only one man in a blue moon would understand.

But Harry kept eye contact, wanting more from her than she had been willing at first.

His body leaned in closer to her, sniffling as he found his footing close enough that he had practically pushed her feet apart with his own so they could be face to face.

"In my mirrorball, I see you and I have the time of our lives and not settling for anything that tells us to stop. I'm a visionary– I'm going to put my cards on the table and let you know what I want." The scent of his cologne flourished around her nose, pushing into her memory.

Sofia stares at the man for a moment when he stops talking, recognizing they had just met, and their connection had created such fire that she was certain it would spread wild.

There was no way that it could've been burnt out then; she watched his eyes follow her, almost obsessed as he stood in front of her, leaning on the rooftop railing.

"You don't even know me, Harry," She shrugged, "And I don't even know your last name."

"That's very true," He finished the last drop of the martini, taking a bite of the olive as he let his smirk take over when he chewed.

"The greatest loves of all time started that way, didn't they, Sofia Treaveau? With a bit of mystery and adventure? Do you need to know my last name to truly fall in love?"

She licked her lips, the taste of vanilla from her lip gloss on her taste buds. She nodded, letting her eyes fall back to him as she noticed a strand of his shouldered locks falling around his cheek as the breeze flew across them.

Her heart burned; the wildfire was spreading at an enormous rate. She had wanted to keep her heart from that feeling, but how addicting it was made her knee knock with his as they stood close.

"Then, I accept," She bites her lip, "I'll be ready tomorrow by seven. No later, or I'll keep the door locked."

Harry tried his best to keep his smile demure, but he knew that the heat of his skin had to be felt by her– the way his heart thumped was that one of a thousand earthquakes.

"I'll be outside your door at six fifty-eight, waiting to take you up the green line like every beautiful woman deserves." He raises his brows with a smirk. "Last week, I saw a rat the size of a raccoon."

Sofia hummed soft before she broke out in a few chuckles. "Wow, I cannot wait to see that– who said romance was dead?"

Harry shook his head with a large smile as he let his eyes soften to the way he looked at her. Sofia seemed the type he'd want to wake up in the morning to see; the type who were kind and subtle at first but open with large thoughts when you were able to chip past the exterior.

"How about I cook you dinner instead? I can come pick you up, we can go to the corner store, and I'll take you back to mine. It's a small place, but I think it may be a bit more..." He trailed off, trying to find the word, "A bit more intimate. And cheaper."

She smirked, looking at the way that his arm rested along the railing before she reached out to brush her hand against his, "So, I'm not worth a fifty dollar seafood platter, then?"

Harry shook his head, "Not if you're going to waste it."

Sofia bit her lip, smiling as she nodded her head. "I think that's a date, then."

Harry took a smaller step closer. "First time you actually said yes to me."

"Don't expect anymore tonight. I don't say yes unless I mean it." She tells him, sipping her coke.

An image quickly runs through his mind as he takes a solid breath in, but he blinks a few times to make sure it leaves so he doesn't get caught. He bit the inside of his cheek to feel some pain to try to get his kind off of how else he could get her to say yes.

Over and over and over–

"So, tomorrow at seven?" She interrupted his thoughts, his eyes meeting hers again.

"I told you," He smirked, "Six fifty-eight. And don't be late coming to the door, either."

Sofia exhaled, knowing the smile hadn't left her lips all evening. It was almost painful at that point; her cheeks hurt and she was a bit worried the blush would be permanent. It was a feeling she knew wouldn't last, but she looked forward to her cheeks hurting just a bit in the morning.

She nodded, "It's a date."

Harry rolled his lips into his mouth before he turned towards the city. He leaned against the railing, staring into the abyss of the lights. He breathed in, heavy, before humming out. Sofia did as he did, standing next to him. She leaned against the railing before tucking some hair behind her ear; the spring breeze gave her a bit of a chill.

"What if I'm a bit impatient?" He said suddenly, pushing away as he held onto the glass railing in front of him.

Sofia turned her head towards him, before she felt his hand on her wrist to request her attention. It was the easiest she had ever been to convince when he led her towards the bar. Their hands fell into place as he requested to pay for the bill, taking his card back.

"Where are we going?" Sofia said, a bit of uncertainty in her voice as she looked around. She didn't want to leave her friend without a bit of a notice– she had no way to get in contact with her.

Harry turned his head up after he signed the receipt, dropping the pen.

"We're leaving," He said, without effort, before taking her hand once again. He hadn't recalled that he had dropped it, but he had missed it. "I know a spot that'll be a bit more... private."

"I can't just leave," Sofia explained, chuckling with a bit of disbelief that he was leading her away, "I have to– I mean, I came with Nat."

Harry turned his head to look around, trying to see if he could find the group that had left them alone. He knew that they had to have been spying on them from another part of the rooftop, but he wasn't able to spot them.

"It doesn't seem that they're around, maybe they left. We'll be back. I'll get you home then you can text her." Harry promised, trying his best to get her to leave with him. He was ready to get out of the atmosphere and move onto seeing something else. He wanted to explore, walk the streets with her.

"Yeah, but," Sofia swallowed, turning her head to try and lay eyes on Nat, just to give her an update. It felt wrong to walk away with someone she barely knew– a bit irresponsible, really. A man, nonetheless. She hadn't felt uncomfortable in the slightest, but she was trying to protect herself.

Harry dug his hands into the front pockets of his pants, standing in front of her, waiting for her to come to a conclusion. His hand moved to her shoulder, giving a soft physical connection before he studied her.

"You can blame me. I take full blame if she freaks out on you." His voice was calm, but it was highlighted with desperation to get her to leave with him– to flee into another world, unknown.

He liked the unknown, which worked in his favor most of the time; it was something that was unagreeable in most of his life. His father would hate when Harry said he hadn't planned for that to happen, or that he hadn't thought of that before. It was just how his mind processed things– and being able to live a life where he didn't have to think about it made Harry feel more inclined to do that behavior out of a rebellion.

Stability was never something Harry needed to feel like he had been doing something right. Most of the time, he looked for spontaneity to keep his mind racing, finding people who were there for a season rather than the long haul. It kept his mind fresh.

"We don't–" Harry started, thinking that this would be how he left her that night. He would leave, telling Niall that it hadn't worked out.

Sofia interrupted, "No, let's."

He stared at her for a moment, looking around before he felt her take his hand that time. She placed her fingers between him, holding them firmly.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked her, looking around at the crowd.

It hadn't occurred to him that he really hadn't seen Niall or any of Niall's friends for a bit, which made him a bit leary that they had moved onto a new spot without them anyways. It would figure as such, because he had known that Niall was going to set him up like this from the moment he had mentioned the words 'and this girl is coming'.

Harry didn't do much dating– it hadn't interested him. Talking and getting to know people was the most extent that he went through, which was fine to him. If he ever brought a girl home, it was always going to be for her best interest. Maybe she was going to try and get home but was alone and too drunk– half the time Harry just took her home so she'd be somewhere safe.

But there was a light about Sofia that allowed his mind to wander about the possibilities of what it would be like if she was around– in his space, in his aura.

There was a great deal of satisfaction and happy wonder that came with those thoughts.

Sofia had breathed out, pulling his hand closer to her as they started to walk towards the elevator on the way down. When it dinged, the two of them stepped into the small space to head back down onto the streets.

The vibrant hum of the city greeted them when they made their way back out of the tall building—distant cars rushing by, the occasional burst of laughter from late-night revelers, and the soft rustle of trees stirred by a gentle breeze. The air was cool, carrying with it the smell of distant rain and the earthy scent of summer that felt so far away. Sofia inhaled deeply, savoring the moment, feeling the weight of the crowded rooftop bar lifting from her shoulders.

The streets weren't deserted, but they were limited to the night dwellers now; the amount of bars around this particular area were sparse.

Harry walked beside her, his hands tucked into his pockets now that they had released their hands from one another, a relaxed smile playing on his lips.

"See? Isn't this better?" he asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Their pace had a slow marvel to it, the sound of her clicking heels echoed through the narrow sidewalks.

She looked over, a small smile forming. "Yeah, okay. Maybe you were right."

They wandered through the streets in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps keeping time with the quiet energy of the city around them. Every now and then, Sofia would catch Harry glancing over at her, but he didn't push the conversation especially when they both seemed to find a bit of satisfaction in the quietness.

He seemed content just to be walking, taking it all in. It was something she liked about him—his ability to be present without needing to fill the silence.

After a few blocks, neither of them had made a solid suggestion on where to go or where they had been heading, they found themselves in front of a small park nestled between two buildings. It was a quiet spot, they had noticed that a person was walking their dog, with a few benches and a street light casting a warm glow over the cobblestone path into the small corridor.

Harry stopped, gesturing toward one of the black, metal benches. "Want to just sit for a minute?"

Sofia nodded, and they sat down side by side, the city stretching out before them but feeling a world away from the noise and lights of the rooftop bar. She leaned back against the bench, her body relaxing further with each breath.

"Tell me something," Harry said, breaking the silence, his voice soft but curious.

She turned to look at him. "Like what?"

"Something you don't normally share," he replied, his tone easy but genuine. "Something about you."

Sofia raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on her face. "Why do I feel like this is one of those questions that ends with you telling me something poetic?"

Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'll tell you something poetic, sure. But you first."

She considered it for a moment, unsure where to begin or what she could say to this stranger sitting next to her that had a lingering smell of vanilla and tobacco. It wasn't often that someone asked her to share something real, something beyond the surface-level conversations she usually had with people.

With Harry, though, it felt... safe. His attention to her never dwindled, it never made her feel stared at or under a microscope. It made her feel... looked after. Listened to.

She fidgeted with her fingers for a minute before she took in a deep breath, trying to imagine what she could say to him in this moment that would ultimately feel worthwhile. Something that would allow their time together to be meaningful. The sound of the leaves in the night breeze took her focus for a moment.

"I guess... I don't always feel very confident and comfortable," she said after a pause. "Like, I put on this front—smiling, laughing, having fun," She looks at her hands in her lap, "Going to martini bars with my friend when I really just wanted to stay home and watch Great British Bake Off. But sometimes, it's not really how I feel. Sometimes I'm just... faking it to make it easier for myself." She glanced away, surprised at her own honesty, but she felt a weight lift as soon as she said the words.

Harry didn't respond right away, just nodded slowly, taking in what she'd said. "I get that," he said after a beat. "It's hard to let people in, isn't it? To show them the stuff beneath the surface."

She met his eyes again, a quiet understanding passing between them. "Yeah," she murmured. "I guess it is."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the intimacy of the moment lingering in the space between them.

Then Harry shifted to make it so he was turned towards her a little more, his eyes searching hers, his voice softening. "You know, I probably would have chosen Great British Bake Off, too." He bites his lip with an urgent smirk trying not to overpower him, "But I could take you to get a box of biscuits and it might give you the same feeling."

Sofia's breath caught slightly at his words, at the sincerity in his voice but the same goofiness she was trying to stop herself from blushing at. It was as if he could see right through the mask she wore, and yet, instead of being afraid or pushing her away, he seemed to lean in closer, making her feel comfortable.

"Okay, well, now it's your turn," she said, her voice light but her heart racing a little from the vulnerability hanging in the air.

Harry smiled, looking down for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts. He clicked his tongue, analyzing what was behind his brain. When he spoke again, his voice was low and thoughtful.

"Alright. Here's something... I guess I've always had this thing about time. I feel like I'm always trying to make the most of it, like it's slipping away too fast. Maybe that's why I wanted to leave the bar earlier. I hate wasting time and just standing around, especially when I feel like there's something more out there, something better. I don't want to miss out on it."

Sofia watched him, feeling a sense of quiet understanding settle between them. "That's why you wanted to leave," she repeated, the words soft as they fell from her lips.

Harry nodded, his gaze steady on hers. "Yeah. And," He shrugged, "Because I wanted to be with you. Just... you."

Her heart did a small, unexpected flip at his words, the weight of them settling deep within her. There was no pretense with Harry, no games or lines. Just truth. And it made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time—safe, but also seen.

She smiled, a small but genuine smile, and leaned back against the bench. "I'm glad we left," She told him, "And that was very poetic."

"Me too." Harry said, his voice quiet but filled with meaning, "And I thought you'd like that."

He took in a breath as he watched her pull her jacket around her middle. It was a bit colder than he expected it to be, thankful that he had brought the blazer too. Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, pushing the hair from his face.

"You hungry?" Harry asked, noticing the way she hugged herself against the breeze. It may have been a way to get her out of the air, too. "There's a bodega down there. Best late-night snack spot in the neighborhood."

Sofia chuckled. "I guess I'm a little hungry, sure, but I don't trust bodegas unless it's the guy at the end of my block."

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it," he said with a grin. "They have the best sandwiches in the city. And I think I need something to balance all the vodka and olive juice currently swimming around in my system."

She smirked, the idea suddenly sounding perfect. "Alright, then, lead the way to the best sandwich in the city," She stood up, following in his lead, "I don't think the best sandwich is in Williamsburg, but I will try and trust you."

"Have I been wrong at any time tonight?" Harry asked, shoving his hands into his pocket again.

Sofia thought for a moment, shaking her head, "Guess not. But there's still time."

Harry rolled his eyes playfully before knocking his shoulder against hers. "So, you're saying you're ready for a full night, then? It's only," He looked at the watch on his wrist, "Watch says eleven-thirty, but I think I could fill our time for the next six hours, at least."

"The longer I'm around you, the more time I have to search for when you're wrong." She pointed out, her hands in her jacket pocket. "So I would be very careful with your time with me."

Harry hummed, "Well, that's too bad," He shook his head, "I was looking forward to spending time with you. I'm having a good time."

Sofia felt her heart flutter a skip as she tried her best not to turn her head to meet his eyes. She knew if she would, she wouldn't be able to contain herself– holding back the smirk was just enough.

"I am too." She agreed, giving him the comfort and satisfaction she would have needed, too.

They continued walking, the glow of the bodega's neon Open 24 Hours sign drawing them in like a beacon– only the 4 had been burnt out; Harry pointed it out with a chuckle. The place was small and cramped, with shelves stocked high with every kind of snack imaginable, and the smell of deli meat and fresh bread filled the air.

A New York specialty.

"This is very classy," Sofia teased as they stepped inside, the pointed-toe boots clicking against the dirty tile, the bell above the door jingling softly.

Harry shot her a look of mock indignation. "Just wait. You'll see," He pushed the hair from his eyes, "The Queen of England recommended this place to me, actually. So I'd be careful with your mocking tone."

"Was this her last meal?" Sofia joked, which made small crinkles by Harry's eyes as he felt himself laugh quite hard at her dry humor.

He licked his lips, "Yes, actually. The Philly cheesesteak was her dying wish."

"Are we sure it's not what," Sofia whispered, pretending to cut her neck in an attempt to mimic out what she meant. "You know, offed her."

Harry's eyes widened, "That hasn't been disclosed, but I think you may be onto something."

He led her to the counter, where an older man with a thick mustache and equally thick accent greeted them.

"Hey, Pauly," Harry greeted the man, his arms crossing over his chest as he looked at the menu that very well could have been a novel with the amount of writing that was on it. He squinted, trying to read it as Sofia tried her best not to be overwhelmed with the options.

"Late night?" The man asked, eyeing them with the knowing look of someone used to night owls wandering in after hours.

"The only kind of night I have." Harry replied, already scanning the menu board hanging overhead. "Can we get two of the specials, extra pickles on both, with tiger sauce and chips on top– well, fries, I guess."

Sofia raised an eyebrow at his order combo, biting her lip at the crazy menu item.

"You'll thank me later," Harry said, flashing her a grin before a thought popped into his head which erased the smile, "You're not vegan, are you?"

Sofia shook her head with a laugh, "No– no, I'm not. This may turn me vegan, though."

As the man prepared their sandwiches, they wandered down one of the narrow aisles, picking out a couple of drinks– Harry went with an Arnold Palmer, Sofia got a ginger ale out of the fridge that had burnt out lights. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a soft, familiar glow over everything. It felt almost like a private moment, even though the world around them carried on.

When the sandwiches were ready, Harry paid for their meal and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter to go along with the meal. He thanked Paul generously before he led the way and pushed out of the small store with a brown paper bag in his hands. The lights of the streets were dim; the roads were slow and calm.

The night had grown even quieter, with only the distant sounds of the city lingering in the air. Harry had moved a few feet down, settling himself on a front stoop before Sofia watched him with surprise.

"We're just going to sit here?" She asked him, looking up at the door, knowing that this was someone's home. "I think this is considered loitering."

"Is that an issue?" He asked, pulling a sandwich out wrapped in foil, and handing it over to her. "We're just eating quickly, I'm starving," He scooted over a bit on the stoop, "You can sit."

Sofia felt a burning sensation in her chest when their shoulders touched; there was an electric force that ran through her body as they touched. She took the sandwich from his hands, opening it and noticing the mess that was about to ensue.

When she turned to Harry, he had already taken a bit before throwing his head back in a pleasurable sensation, "Fuck, that's good. So needed."

Sofia felt her cheeks turn hot at his reaction, not wanting to comment further on it because she was afraid of what would happen if he caught her staring at him. Instead, she unwrapped her own sandwich, tucking her hair behind her ears to get it out of her face before she took a bite of her own.

It was truly one of the best sandwiches she'd ever had in her life– she could feel the way that Harry stared at her as she tried to interpret her thoughts, nodding a bit as she covered her mouth.

"Okay, I'll admit it," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke between bites. "This is really good."

"Told you," Harry replied, taking a bite of his own. "You've got to trust me on these things."

There was the silence, again. She felt it as they sat and ate their meal, shoulder to shoulder. Harry ate his rather fast, crumbling up the foil and the paper before he wiped his hands with a napkin and threw it all back into the brown paper bag. Sofia finished hers up too; he took her trash from her without asking, before throwing it in the house's garbage can closest to them.

"I should be getting home soon," Sofia told him quietly as they sat on the stoop.

She watched Harry digging into his blazer pocket and pulling out the cigarettes and lighter he had just purchased at the bodega. His hands slipped a cigarette out of the container before he lit it and took a drag.

"I can help you get you there," Harry told her softly, "I'll follow your lead, then."

They meandered slowly toward Sofia's apartment, the food warming them from the inside out as they found themselves in a slower pace than even previously before. Sofia had never taken the time to study the streets, the trees and the neighborhood around her. There was something so simple and intimate about it—walking together in the quiet of the city, sharing bites of their sandwiches and laughing about little things, the world around them fading into the background.

Harry cracked a few jokes, asking her simple questions about what she did for work and what she thought about climate change. He asked her about her life and her family's ties to Asia and she told him about how her favorite animal was a frog and she thought they were misunderstood.

As they turned onto her street, Sofia slowed her pace, feeling a mix of contentment and something else—something she couldn't quite name. Her apartment was just a few steps away now, but she wasn't ready for the night to end even just hours before she wanted it to be over as soon as it had started.

"This is me," she said softly as they reached the front of her building, a modest but charming old brownstone nestled between two larger apartment complexes. It had a couple of steps before it led into a few cut apartments.

Harry stopped beside her, his eyes lingering on the building for a moment before returning to her. "Nice place."

"Yeah, it's home," she said, smiling as she looked up at the familiar windows. She pulled the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she awkwardly moved to stand in front of Harry. He was taller than her, his hair hanging on his shoulders as he stared up at the building. His hands were pressed into his pockets as he stood with a careless nature about him.

But then Harry seemed to hesitate, his expression shifting slightly, like he was trying to read the air between them. He stepped a little closer, his voice soft and steady. "I don't know about you, but I had a great time tonight."

Sofia felt a warmth spread through her at his words, the sincerity in them making her heart beat a little faster. "Me too," she said quietly, meeting his gaze. "I'm glad we left the bar."

He smiled, a small, almost knowing smile. "Yeah," He bit his lip, "Me too."

The silence between them stretched, comfortable but charged, as if the night had been building up to this quiet moment. Sofia found herself standing a little closer to him, their bodies just inches apart now, the space between them humming with unspoken possibilities.

Harry broke the silence first, his voice a little lower now. "So, are we still on for tomorrow, then?"

Sofia's smile lingered as she looked up at him, her chest tightening in the best way possible. "Maybe," she teased lightly. "Depends if you can find something better than those sandwiches."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but there was something softer in his eyes now, something more serious beneath the humor. He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "I'll take my chances."

For a brief moment, neither of them moved, the world around them completely still. Sofia could feel her pulse quickening, the space between them almost nonexistent now. It felt like they were the only two in the world now– silence around them, no cars on the streets, no people on the sidewalks.

Until a few raindrops hit her nose softly; her focus was taken from him, looking up at the sky as she noticed that it had started to rain, raindrops falling above them in an early spring shower.

And then, before she could second-guess herself, Sofia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him—just a light, fleeting kiss, the kind that hinted at something more but was gentle and sweet for what it was. When she pulled back, Harry's eyes were still closed for a second, his lips curved into a surprised but satisfied smile.

"Well," he said softly, opening his eyes and looking down at her with that familiar spark of mischief, "that was unexpected."

Sofia grinned, feeling a little breathless. "Guess you should start expecting the unexpected."

Harry laughed, his voice warm and full of something Sofia couldn't quite place but liked all the same. "I'm starting to get that."

They stood there for a moment longer, the quiet settling back in around them. Then Sofia took a step back, before she took hold of the railing up the steps and towards the door to her building, "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Sofia," he said, still smiling as she slipped inside.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Sofia leaned against it for a moment, her heart still racing from the kiss, from the way the night had unfolded so unexpectedly. She couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop thinking about Harry and the way he'd made everything feel... easy. She hadn't felt that way in some time.

She hadn't felt security like that in a person in quite a while.

After Sofia had walked through the door, Harry had come to the conclusion that he hadn't even asked the simple question of getting her phone number. He raced up the steps, taking two at a time, before knocking on the door that had simply locked behind her. Sofia's attention grabbed as she looked at him through the glass of the front door that sat between them.

When she went to open it, she was hesitant about what he could have been wanting.

"Need something so soon?" She joked.

"Yeah," He grabbed his phone before handing it in her direction, "I realized I didn't get your number– figure maybe, I don't know– like it feels like we had a good time and maybe I'll text you in the morning."

There was a sense of nervousness that Sofia had felt from the interaction, almost like now that he was standing in front of her he was a bit embarrassed by the urgency that he had felt to knock back on the door when he would be back here in less than 24 hours.

She blinked a few times before she shook her head, "I'm– I'm sorry, I don't just give my number out," It was a rule she had put in place for herself because she knew how many times she sat around wondering when someone would text her. It was a part of her confidence that she didn't want to ruin, especially with the way she was feeling about Harry now.

Digging into her purse, she found a lip liner that was a dark shade of brown before handing it to him. Harry took it with a bit of confusion before Sofia pulled her jacket off of her shoulders to expose her forearm.

"You can write yours down, though," She offered, watching as he held the pencil in his hands. His fingers slipped around the small item, pulling off the cap before writing the 10-digits on her forearm. A small 'x' followed after it before he topped the pencil with the cap and handed it back to her.

"You have to promise to text me," He smirked, "Because I don't know that I can live with the embarrassment, if I'm honest."

Sofia held the jacket on her arm, trying to make sure that it dried down, not smudging.

"I know how it feels to be embarrassed like that– so you have nothing to worry about." Her voice was soft as she stared at him, looking at the way that he held himself between the door and the frame.

"Great," He nodded, feeling excited by her sincerity, "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight." Sofia said again, a soft tone in her voice as she watched Harry shut the door behind himself. Her breathing became far more rapid as she was able to let go of the breath she felt like her chest had been holding.

And as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she knew this wasn't the end of the night– her brain was far too engulfed in the events of the night for her to fall asleep now. It felt more like the beginning of something new. Something she hadn't quite been expecting—but now, couldn't wait to see unfold.

Spring had a way of creeping in unnoticed, a quiet promise beneath the chill of lingering winter air. Just like the way Harry had slipped into Sofia's life—unexpected, but inevitable, like the first bloom pushing through thawing ground. Their meeting felt like the start of something new, the kind of newness that hummed beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to emerge, to be felt in full.

The city around them mirrored the changing season, shaking off its cold, gray layers and coming to life again. Streets that had been barren now buzzed with the energy of renewal, of second chances.

And in the same way that spring awakens the world with its subtle touch, Sofia found herself waking up to something she hadn't realized she was missing. With every conversation, every shared glance, Harry became like the warmth of the sun after a long winter—steady, inevitable, drawing her out of the quiet hibernation of her own guarded heart.

The warmth of the sunshine was a gift to her cold, unwilling heart.

As she made her way to her room, she passed by Nat's room, seeing that the door was open and the light was on. The clicking of her heels would give her away immediately– and did, as Nat ran towards the doorway. The smile on her face told her everything she needed to know.

"Tell me everything." Nat demanded, but Sofia just shook her head, making her way past her door and into her own bedroom. Not a word more; keeping it to herself felt like the only way to make sure that it had been real.

As she laid back on her bed, the smile never faltered. Her heart never stopped beating at the highest rate– she felt she could become sick with every thought of him. The way he smelled, the way his green eyes shone in the dim streetlights, the way he walked, talked, pondered through his way of life.

The forgotten phone had been laying on her small vanity; she grabbed it, putting his number in quickly before writing out a small message– a photo of her arm included.

Sofia: Guess who?

Only a few seconds went by; he had been waiting for her number to pop-up. Harry had settled himself on the curb only a block away, waiting to see if he would hear from her. When the message from the unknown number came up, he couldn't believe it.

It made him smile, made his fingers shake with anticipation as he lit another cigarette.

Harry: I know it can't be Your Majesty, the Queen. She died eating a bodega cheesesteak. RIP.

Harry: I hope it's someone named Sophia.

Sofia rolled her eyes, but felt the satisfaction laying deep within her.

Sofia: Ooof. Minus 3 points. I spell it with an F. Sofia.

Harry: God fucking damnit. Of course you do.

He drug the smoke of the cigarette, watching as her message came up. When it did, he stared at it, wanting so badly for the night to replay over and over and over again. It was an inevitable feeling that he hadn't truly felt in a long time.

Sofia: Looks like I end the night with you finally being wrong... victory is so sweet.

Sofia: Goodnight :)

___________

Harry hadn't felt the way he felt at the moment in quite some time. It had been a while since there was a pep in his step rather than a drag of his feet. It felt good to be able to look forward to something, and he had been looking forward to this since he shut the door behind him at Sofia's apartment last night.

He looked forward to being able to see her again. Even in that one night, he had felt that there was an immediate connection. Some may call him crazy– but being a hopeless romantic did that sort of thing. It enabled you to make decisions and think about the future in a way that didn't make any sense.

The walk to her apartment, from what he had gathered using his phone map, was quite close to where his apartment was settled now. They both lived in Brooklyn, which made getting to her a lot easier. He wasn't sure if she lived alone or with roommates; Harry did, though, which made him happy to know that they would be going back to his place. While their spaces weren't entirely large or spacious, he knew that he didn't have any reason to be nervous to show her what he had.

Harry had a one-bedroom, practically a studio as his bedroom door didn't shut entirely. He kept it open most of the time, since it was just him.

When he had approached the door to her apartment building, he texted her a quick message to let her know that he was outside. The day was a bit cloudy, there had been some rain the evening prior once they had left the rooftop bar– thankfully, afterwards, and not during. The spring air was rolling through New York, but it still had hints of chill in the air.

Harry wore a dark flannel shirt overtop of a plain white shirt that had a few buttons down the middle. His black jeans and Nike trainers were a bit rugged, as he was one to wear down his clothes quite well. He didn't like the feeling of new clothing, it was a bit too constricting. To his body and to his wallet.

It wasn't that he struggled with money– he didn't, really. His family helped him with a few things while he was just starting out his career. But there were certainly incidentals that Harry's eyes widened at when he saw the bills coming in the mail. It was a strict, harsh reality whenever he realized that the freelance gig of journalism needed to come to a close. He needed to really settle with a company rather than the continuation of contracting positions.

It wasn't helpful to know that his income was a bit of a harsh topic with family, he knew how it would impact him in the future. He was twenty-seven now, with a whole world ahead of him. He was a bachelor– for the moment, at least. He was having fun and able to figure these things out now. He didn't want to have to settle down or to put pressure where there wasn't any.

It was okay now– it felt fine.

When Sofia popped out of the door, he gave a quick glance at the effortless look of her. She was wearing a long-sleeved button down, a steel blue, with a pair of denim that hugged her closely. A pair of white trainers on her feet, as she came out of the building with a bag over her shoulder and a hairclip pinning back the dark locks from her face. The make-up was practically blush and a bit of chapstick; she looked like she hadn't tried at all, which made his heart skip a beat at the idea she wasn't nervous. It made him twice as much.

She sounded a bit out of breath as she approached him, her smile the same as the night before.

"Hi," He said quietly, watching as her eyes trailed over him.

"I think it's seven," Sofia looked at the pretty, gold watch that settled on her wrist, "It's seven twelve."

Harry pursed his lips as he grabbed the cellphone from his back pocket. He gave a once over to the message that he sent her before pointing out the time that the message was sent.

"Six fifty-eight, I believe." He smirked before he watched her cross her arms with a playful eyebrow raise. "I told you that you'd be the late one, not me. Probably spraying some perfume and making sure your hair was perfect for me. And it is, so I forgive you for being so late because you look very beautiful."

Sofia hummed, "I guess I'll let you off the hook since you said I looked beautiful," When she smiled, there was a small dimple at the base of her chin as she looked back at him with her deep brown eyes that had small, feathered out lashes, "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Appreciated." He told her before he turned on his foot.

They were heading down the street to one of his favorite local grocery stores. It wasn't a place that he shopped often, really only when he was trying to impress someone because their selection was quite niche and for restaurateurs who were looking to elevate their dishes.

Their small talk went from one part of the planet to the other, talking about her favorite bagel place that she would get a macchiato from on rainy mornings or a pizza shop that Harry had on his list to go to but hadn't yet.

When they reached the store, Harry grabbed a basket at the front before they walked into it and Sofia looked around.

"I've never been here," She commented softly. A small amount of radio played in the background as Harry smiled at the cashier that he had recognized.

"I come here when I'm looking for gold," Harry grabbed a few peppers from the vegetable stand before he mulled over the zucchini and eggplant.

Sofia grabbed a bottle of red wine from one of the shelves across the way, placing it in the basket. Harry looked down and smirked at her before she started to walk away, obviously filling the basket with her own priorities.

"Thought you didn't drink?" Harry questioned, placing an eggplant in the basket before following her towards the back a bit.

"I don't," She shrugged, "But I like the idea of you taking me to your apartment to cook me dinner while we each hold a glass of red wine and talk about first-world problems. Like how we have an obstructed view from our tiny apartments, but then you show me the fire escape where you sit and have a cigarette every once in a while."

Harry grinned to himself as he placed some garlic and a can of tomato paste in the basket, still perusing the shelves.

"That sounds like a particular experience. I don't know if that's how it's going to go," He shrugs, "But I can definitely show you the front stoop where I smoke my cigarettes at three AM when I get home from the bars. It may not have the best view, but I think it's charming."

Sofia turned her head, nodding. She grabbed a small block of gouda, placing it in the basket and Harry continued to smile as she felt comfortable enough to add her items to his order. It was kind of cute, in a way, he thought.

It meant she felt comfortable enough with him, and he liked that their chemistry had led them here.

Once they were finished shopping, he had gathered the items at the counter in two paper bags, one on each arm before Sofia pushed the door open for his ease. They had moved in the opposite direction than they had just come, so that Harry could lead them back to his place instead.

"You haven't really told me what you're making me," She eyed him, "Should I be surprised?"

Harry rolled his lips in his mouth before he shook his head and gave her a small smile, "Don't believe so. I think it's actually quite predictable, but it's one of the best things I make, which is just strictly to impress you because you are very hard to impress."

Sofia chuckled a bit as she placed her hands in her back pockets as they walked. "No, I'm just particular and want to make sure that I'm choosing wisely."

"Some may call that picky." Harry looked at her, holding the bags against his sides as he teased her.

Their conversation was easy and flowed, but she felt appreciated that he was able to do so. She hoped that he held tough conversations just as well, without the jokes or the teasing elements.

This was just her way of coping– to make sure that all conversations were light and held together with a piece of beautiful ribbon. Once the ribbon was undone, nothing was pretty anymore. Conversations that weren't held together were messy and unkempt; it was an element of relationships that she hated because she had run from them so often. Her family dynamic felt that way half of the time.

"Fine, you caught me," She shook her head, "I'm picky. But that should boost your ego quite a bit."

"Trust me," Harry told her, nudging her shoulder a bit to get her to turn right down one of the streets, "My ego is fucking over the moon as I get to walk down the street with you right now."

"Oh, please," She rolled her eyes, matching his smile as he nodded undoubtedly. "That's a bit dramatic."

They reached Harry's apartment building; it looked quite similar to some of the townhouses, but Harry walked right into the door as he unlocked it. It had a long staircase as they walked into the front area, it was quite dark when they arrived before Harry nudged her to go up the steps.

"It's the first door on the left." Harry told her before they walked up the small building before Sofia took one of the bags from his arms so that he could unlock the door properly.

Once inside, Harry threw the keys in the small dish by the door before he tread inside. Sofia closed the door behind her, taking in the area before placing the grocery bag on the small kitchen island inside. It was a small apartment, a bit bigger than hers. She liked that it had natural lighting, that it didn't feel dark. She liked that Harry had a sense of style, an element of cleanliness that most of the men she dated didn't seem to have.

It was a solid apartment with warm lighting and felt safe to her, in a way. But there may have been other elements present that kept her feeling that way.

"Would you like some wine, then, so I can explain to you about my front stoop?" Harry offered as he pulled the bottle from the bag. He examined it for a moment before giving a nod of approval as he took two glasses from his cabinet.

"Only if I can see your obstructed view first."

He placed them on the counter, using a corkscrew, and removing the cork out before handing it to Sofia.

"Hopefully you like this because it was twenty-seven dollars and you're picky." He cheered towards her, raising his glass a bit before he took a small sip.

"Cheers." She started softly with a giggle before taking a sip. It was a quite bold red wine, but something about it made her tongue salivate when she held it in her mouth. She felt Harry look at her with a lop-sided grin as she hummed to herself.

"Think I could've gone with the sixty dollar bottle," She told him, watching him shake his head.

Sofia wandered around the small apartment as Harry started to prepare the dinner. He threw a towel over his shoulder as he started to chop some vegetables rather precisely. She noticed the photos of him, the way that he kept memories around his apartment like he wanted to fill it with every ounce of who he was. She was rather impressed by it, knowing that she could've just gotten all of his information from walking around the living room a few times.

Her eyes peaked into his bedroom as the door had been open; Harry caught her.

"Interested?" He asked, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the dimpled smile that kept onto the tray of vegetables he had been chopping. He had returned to looking at his task rather than her, but his eyes lifted back to notice that she was slowly making her way around.

"I am quite interested in how old that blue comforter is and if that's one from an old college dorm room." Sofia started with a plain face before Harry acted as if it had knocked him back off of his feet. "Because if it is, I don't believe I am interested, no."

"Damn," He shook his head, "That hit me where it hurt."

Sofia shook her head, "You didn't answer which means it's not the answer I want to hear, either."

Harry wiped his fingers on the towel on his shoulders as he grabbed a baking dish and started to lay a layer of sauce on the bottom of it, before quickly arranging the chopped vegetables. Sofia sat on a stool at the small island, one of two that were there. They were mixed-match, which made her smile as she took another sip of the wine before she realized what he was doing.

Her eyes trailed him as he concentrated on how to place the pieces neatly.

"Are you," She squinted at him before he looked at what he had been doing, to her, "I told you I grew up in France and you decided to make me ratatouille?"

Harry shrugged as if a bit offended by her reaction to him, "It's a meal based off of one of the most critically-acclaimed films of our generation, so I think you may be jumping the gun a bit with thinking it's always about you."

Sofia swirled the red wine in her glass before she looked at Harry, "You think they named the meal after the film? The cartoon about a rat?"

"Put some honor on his name– Remy." Harry's sense of humor echoed as he tried to keep a straight face before he bit into one of raw peppers that hadn't fit into the dish.

"And you should know, I'm making this for you because it's the meal that got me to be featured in The Sunday Times once in college. I wrote a review about this restaurant in London that I went to as an intern and it was the first time I really felt like," Harry swirled his own wine around as he tried to think of the emotions that came with that small feat. "I really felt like I had made it. I was in a big city, I was doing cool stuff. It was just one of those things that brought a lot of comfort to this meal and it's one that I make sometimes just to really," He thought for a moment, "Don't know– remember that I'm doing well. And that I'm happy."

It was a moment that Sofia had not really been prepared for, as she hadn't seen that soft, kinder side to Harry. They were being playful, they were flirty and harmless– but something about his words made her listen harder. He was proud of himself for an accomplishment, and she nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'm sure that was a huge deal for you," She nibbled at her lip, tasting the cherry red wine, "Is food what you write about mostly?"

Harry hummed to himself as he thought of her question, "Yes and no," He told her, "I'm a contracted freelance writer at the moment, which means I'm working at this magazine for six months and then they can directly hire me or let me go. It just depends, but I'm not super worried about it."

Harry stuck the dish into the oven, setting a timer on his phone before he threw the towel onto the island. He took the glass by the stem, moving towards the small living room space that was only a few feet ahead of them.

"But yeah, I mostly write about restaurants, the food industry, and the service industry. It's a field that interests me– I want to travel more and learn how to cook different cuisines, but I don't know. I guess the world is at my fingertips, and I always keep it a steady distance so I don't go too overboard with my dreams."

"You have a very wise way with your words, Harry." Sofia's voice was petite, her words were feeling heavy on her tongue as she realized how much the wine had started to take over her. She didn't know how to feel, but she knew that she felt good. She felt ultimately warm and composed gratitude that she was feeling safe in this space with a man.

That wasn't always the case. Her eyes were always on the door, always looking for a way out because that felt safe. That felt more secure than staying. Sofia had one foot out the door at all times because that was the only way she knew how to be.

"I'd hope so," He told her, "How else am I supposed to keep buying you fancy dinners and wines if I don't have a career? I think I need words to keep going on that."

She smirked, "You've already made this a more-than-once kind of thing?"

Harry leaned against the counter, holding his hands on it as he stared at her and nodded a few times. "I don't think this feels like something I want to stop right now," His honesty is refreshing, "Unless you take a bite of the dinner and absolutely hate it, then we might have to part ways."

Sofia finished the rest of her wine, draining the glass before she set it down on the countertop. She removed herself from the stool she had been sitting in before making her way to the small couch that sat against the wall in his tiny living room.

She noticed the stacks of books and DVDs that covered the wall, her eyes moving over them. They told a story of who he was, what he consumed. She settled onto the couch, feeling his presence behind her as he moved to do the same.

They discussed their time in the city; what each of them liked the most about it, what they despised. She told him about her days in college– she had attended a small state school right outside of Boston, where she had grown up mostly. Her high school years were spent in the United States, mostly. She was a good student, she loved learning. Her dreams of being an event planner were more than anything college could have taught her, and she realized that when she started to really make life decisions.

It was when she met Kendall that things had started to take a turn; it was then that her dreams and her hobbies were met with cynicism, not hope. She wanted to start her own business, to create special moments for people who needed that extra bit of joy in their life. Planning parties, birthdays, holidays, celebrations– these were moments in people's lives that made it exciting to be a human being.

It was nice to celebrate being alive every once in a while in a small gesture of kindness, and she loved being a part of that for people.

But her partner was unsupportive, he was pessimistic about that being a career path that would help them advance into the world that they wanted to live in. Sofia didn't come from money– her family was very middle class, but was given the opportunity to travel. They didn't have expensive things, they had memories. They had each other, and that was worth much more than the luxury items that Kendall was used to.

She couldn't help him live the life that he wanted to live because she wasn't making the income that he was. But she was happy. She was excited to go to work everyday. That was the difference, she felt. She had an okay apartment, she had okay clothes and items that worked to the best of their ability– Sofia was living a life that she had wanted, finally.

And something about the used couch, the broken spines of novels that lined the walls, and the mix-matched items that sprawled around Harry's apartment told Sofia that he had the same values that she did.

Harry shared about his working-class family back in England and how they were proud of him, but they also left more to be desired when it came to support. They had told him to stay in London for a bit longer, possibly climb the career ladder in England, instead. But Harry wanted to be more than that, he wanted to take chances.

His father called him irresponsible, his mother had told him that she was angry with his choices to move abroad. They still loved him– maybe that was why it hurt so much more when they said those things about what he was looking for. It may have been quite irresponsible, but Harry knew what he wanted and was going to try to make it work.

If it didn't work, he would have to pick a different path. It wasn't that hard to navigate life when it was just yourself you have to worry about, though.

The smell of roasted vegetables and herbs filled Harry's small apartment, a warm and inviting contrast to the crisp evening air outside. The countertop with his stools was set simply, two plates and glasses of wine, but it felt cozy, intimate. Sofia sat on the couch, watching as Harry moved around the kitchen to try and make sure everything was ready.

"So, ratatouille, huh?" she called over to him, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Didn't realize you were aiming for Michelin stars tonight."

Harry grinned, stirring the pot on the stove. "Hey, I've got hidden talents. Just wait 'til you try it. You'll be saying "Yes, Chef" by the end of the night."

Sofia snorted, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I highly doubt that, but I appreciate the enthusiasm. What is it they say? Confidence is half the battle?"

Harry turned around, giving her a playful look. "Confidence and a really good recipe, which, for the record, I stole from my grandmother. So if you don't like it, you're basically insulting a sweet old lady."

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Nice try. Don't think I won't tell her the truth."

He shook his head, ladling the ratatouille onto their plates with a flourish. "Okay, Gordon Ramsey. You're gonna love it. Or at the very least, pretend you do to spare my feelings."

A moment later, he carried the plates over to the tabletop and set them down with an exaggerated bow. "Your dinner, madame," he said in an overly formal voice, pulling out the random barstool that made him laugh thinking about the fact he picked it up from a random street sale.

Sofia raised an eyebrow as she took her seat. "Such a gentleman," she teased, eyeing the colorful medley of roasted vegetables—zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes, peppers—perfectly layered in neat little rounds. It actually looked pretty impressive, but she was trying her best to keep her cool about it.

"I only aim to please," Harry said with a wink, sitting next to her and grabbing his fork. "Now, come on. First bite. Let me see if my future as a chef is secure."

She twirled a piece of zucchini onto her fork, pretending to inspect it carefully. " Color looks great, has a good softness to it without being mushy. Alright, moment of truth," she said, before taking a bite. The flavors hit her all at once—the sweetness of the tomatoes, the earthiness of the vegetables, the hint of fresh basil. She let out an appreciative hum, nodding slowly as she chewed. "Okay, okay. Not bad."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Not bad? Come on, give me more than that."

Sofia laughed, taking another bite. "Alright, fine. It's delicious. Happy?"

He pursed his lips to the side in an attempt to break her smile, watching her delicately as he squinted to try to see into her. Sofia was playing a harsh game with him, and he wanted her approval more than he could admit. Even though he knew how she felt, he wanted to hear her say it.

Approval meant everything to him, even if he knew that she was just giving him a hard time.

"Very," he said, taking a bite himself, his expression smug. "Told you I had hidden talents."

She grinned, shaking her head. "Well, consider me impressed. Just don't expect me to call you 'Chef' any time soon."

"Not yet, but give it time," Harry said with a wink, raising his glass of wine. "To culinary greatness... and to not burning down my kitchen."

Sofia clinked her glass against his, laughing softly. "And to not burning down your kitchen," she echoed, taking a sip. As she did, she glanced across the table at him, feeling the warmth of the evening settle in.

There was something so easy about being with Harry, about the way they could joke and talk, and share a quiet meal. It felt... right. Comfortable, yet filled with something more. Something she was slowly realizing she didn't want to let go of anytime soon.

"Tell me other things you do well." She inquired, taking another bite, covering her mouth as she chewed. She moved onto the next question as he found himself wanting to give a certain answer, but shaking his head instead.

She could tell as he started to blush a bit red at the suggestion that lined his brain.

"Uh," He picked at a piece of the eggplant before licking his lips, "I'm very good at crosswords," He told her, "And building things."

"What kind of things?" She asked, taking a sip of wine to wash down the dinner.

"Anything. It's actually kind of nerdy," He tilted his smile, "But I love building, like, Legos. I always have. I'm very step-oriented. Guess it's why I like cooking, too. There's just a lot of steps."

Sofia cleared his throat as she narrowed her eyes to her plate, before looking back up at him through her lashes. "Would you say you're," She paused for a minute, "Good at following directions, then?"

Harry cleared his own throat, chewing a bit slower as he leaned on the island a bit, body folded in half as he looked at her a bit more directly.

"I'm very good at following directions, yes." He suggested, nodding a few times.

The blush on Sofia's cheeks was noticeable now, too, as she found herself giggling just a bit to herself at his answer. She hadn't noticed that the wine may have gotten to them a bit, but it was starting to feel incredibly warm all of the sudden.

"What about you?" He asked in return, watching as she tried to think about the question. "What are you good at?"

Sofia swallowed, licking her lips. "I'm nurturing, I think. I think I'm caring and I'm honest, maybe to a fault. But I think to the people I love, I'm their number one fan. I'm really good at throwing a birthday party and showering my people with love. Again," She paused, "Maybe to a fault."

Harry licked his lips a bit, tucking some hair behind his ears before pushing the sleeves to his flannel up a bit. "That's a bit more deep than playing with Legos."

Sofia smirked a little at his comment, "I'm also very good at picking things up with my feet. I think my toes are quite nimble."

A laugh broke out of Harry that made Sofia start to giggle as well as he covered his face with his hand; he winked at her jokingly, "You'll have to show me later."

"Oh, great. Another guy in New York with a foot fetish," She jokes, "I share something personal to me, and you go and make it sexual."

He finishes the bite off of his fork before placing his fork down on the plate, "You're the one who shared the foot fact. I'm sure they're lovely. You've kept 'em covered up around me, though– little tease."

Sofia laughed at his banter, taking another sip of her wine before she saw the way that his eyes shined at her. She hadn't felt this safe in a while– she hadn't felt this relaxed. She recognized it could've been the wine, but she knew that it was just the way that they spoke to one another. He was extraordinarily normal, caring. He was mature, but not to a fault.

The air in Harry's apartment felt a bit stale now, but it may have been the fact that she was feeling the heated attraction coming directly across from her. Her leaning into the kitchen island was done unwillingly as she realized that they had started to naturally come together as they finished their meals a bit more quietly, then.

Once she took her last bite, she placed her fork on the plate and looked up at him, "Final review is that I'd say this is a Michelin five-star restaurant and I'd definitely come back."

"Restaurants can only have up to three Michelin stars, so I take that as the highest compliment." Harry explained before taking her plate and placing them both in the sink for washing later.

"Damnit, I was trying to impress you." She explained, finishing her second glass. The wine had started to make her head a bit dizzy at that point, which made the goofy smile on her face more noticeable as she tried her best to keep composed.

Harry reached for the bottle, pouring the rest between them as he stared at her directly again. The night had started to grow darker outside; the dimness of the lights in his apartment created a warm atmosphere as they sat practically in darkness with little rays of string lights and side table lamps that he had turned on.

Harry grabbed a lighter from a drawer behind him, lighting a few candles in the kitchen to add a bit of light and warmth to the space before he turned to her and bobbed his head to the side, aiding her to follow him.

"Come check this out," He stated, taking the wine and the lighter with him as he moved into the bedroom. It was practically dark except for the window that overlooked the city. There were dancing, twinkling lights below them, they radiated off of the street from the rain on the road. It was a view he was happy with, as it didn't back to a wall or to a small courtyard behind the apartment space.

He pushed the window up, moving to sit in the windowsill– straddling it to keep himself balanced as his foot hit the fire escape on the other side.

"I thought you told me you didn't have a fire escape," Sofia laughed, mirroring him.

She held the wine in her hands as she felt the breeze on her face, watching as the lights illuminated over his face. Harry grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the floor before taking one and lighting it quickly. The flame to the lighter shone over him, her eyes fixed for a moment.

"I don't think I said that." He explained, "I told you I'd show you the front stoop, so I could be a bit different– that was just to impress you. I think I'm over trying to impress you now, though."

Sofia raised her brows as she took the cigarette from his fingers. The smoke blew back into his face as he tried to blow it away. She took a drag, humming as she held the cigarette between her fingers. He didn't take her as the kind to smoke, but he liked the view as she sat across from him.

"Already done trying to impress me on the first date." She shook her head, "I knew you were too good to be true."

The sinking of Harry's dimple in his cheek brought her heartrate up as he took another sip of the wine; they had finished the bottle quickly, which was a good choice on her behalf. He rattled his brain as he saw the way that the lights shone over her skin. He couldn't help but want to caress it, feel her for himself. But he refrained. He didn't want to move too soon or to push too hard.

With time, it would happen, he thought.

But right now, he wanted to take his time with her. Get to know her properly. Get to know what she liked and didn't like, her favorite spots to go on walks, her favorite place to get a croissant in the neighborhood, her favorite way to drink her coffee.

Harry wanted to ask the questions that he didn't know if anyone else asked her.

"Cause I've realized that all the impressing I've tried to do hasn't really worked on you," He explained, he shook his head a little bit as he pushed his shoe a bit to touch her calf. It was some of the intimate touching that he had been working on pushing; Harry was intimate, he was a skilled lover with a love language that exceeded personal space.

He bit his lip, "You're literally the first person in a really long time that I've been able to be myself around."

Sofia stared up at him, flicking the ash of the cigarette before handing it back to him. She leaned forward a bit, his hand moved to grab it before their hands touched just a bit. Her eyelids fluttered a bit with heaviness at the feeling of his index finger gently moving across hers and the way that they both stared at the interaction was enough to make her breathing hitch.

"Is this, uh," She rolled her lips into her mouth as she let her own index finger move across his. She watched the small interaction before his other hand dropped to her knee just a bit. The feeling of his fingers caressing her just enough that she felt secure and safe was enough. "Is this the first chapter of our story, then?"

"Do characters usually kiss in the first chapter?" Harry asked, his voice just a bit raspy as he scooted himself a bit forward, letting his hand move towards her jaw. The way that her head rested against the windowsill was out of comfort, out of letting him take the control which she hadn't imagined that she could have let him have.

"I think that only happens in the movie version," Sofia teased, her voice low.

Harry scoffed, "Damn, and the movie is never as good as the book."

"I guess we have to keep reading to see what happens." She laughed a bit, quiet, even though they were the only two alone.

"Yeah," He laughed, "Keep reading. Promise the book gets better."

The sound of the honking horns, the chatter along the streets– it added to the way that both of his hands wrapped around the sides of her face to pull him closer. He smelled like tobacco and vanilla, the cigarette burned between his fingers as Sofia held onto his thighs as she leaned forward into it. The scent of him and the feeling of his lips against hers were far too heightened from the wine.

Her senses were higher in some elements, lower in others. She had tried her best to try and level herself out, but his tongue licked at her bottom lip and it interrupted all thought.

She tasted sweet like the wine, as he would have imagined. The feeling erupts in him as he had thought about doing this all night and finally feeling as if the moment had come to him in the perfect timing.

Harry fell too hard, too fast. But his values and ideals never changed. He wanted to love– wanted to be loved and to feel the support from someone who was never going to let him down. Harry ached for the love of someone, he had never truly been himself around someone before. He didn't think that being himself was good enough.

He wasn't the man who was going to support the family, he wasn't the person that had all of his shit figured out. That's what scared him the most about being in a relationship; as he sat here, leaving gentle kisses along Sofia's lips, he felt the urge to scream that he had finally found someone who looked at him just a little bit differently.

He had found someone who had opened up a part of him that he had been hiding away for a long time. Sometimes, it only took one night– one decision to change it for the best.

As they pulled away for a moment of air, Harry's forehead leaned against Sofia's for a moment as she tried to catch her breath. She felt a sense of relief leaving her chest, knowing whole-heartedly that he had given her a night that she wasn't expecting. She wasn't expecting to leave here tonight with a smile or with the hope that harbored in her belly; she expected the disappointment.

Her lips tasted like his, and her heart raced at the thought of his lips all over her. Everywhere, all the time.

Her breathing stabilized a bit before she spoke again, shaking her head with disbelief.

"You're right," She nodded. "That was a really good book."

Her eyes were heavy as she watched the smirk of his lips; his face closer to hers as their noses practically brushed together.

"Just wait then," He said, his accent raspy and full of grit as he kissed her lips gently once again. "That was just the first chapter."

_____________

hiiiiiiiiiii <3

even if you're not obsessed with them, I am!

ily you guys for loving me & keeping up with all of my antics ugh thank you, thank you!! remember this is a short story so we're gonna move fast with time but I will try my best to cover as much as possible <3 let me know what you think so far!!!!

love you!!!!!

- em

[niallsgoldhoop]

CHANNING

a harry styles one shot seven thousand words cw - sexual content, alcohol, harsh language, spitting, spanking, choking,

“I can’t believe you almost missed this.” Looking over at me, the dark eyes of my closest friend shine under the overhead lights. “I mean, come on— It’s Harryween.”

Using my pinky to perfect the edge of the color as I look in the mirror, I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Okay well I couldn’t let this costume go to waste.”

“Honestly.” Adjusting the straps of her angel wings, she laughs. “It’s perfect.”

Tucking a lock of wavy copper hair behind my ear, the green foliage sewed to the leather top last minute contrasts against my porcelain skin in the best way.

As soon as the decision was made— the costume just happens to fall into place.

It took me less than a day to buy the ivy from a local craft store along with the needle and thread. Deep in the back of my closet there was a black leather corset, the kind that fastened in a line of delicate hooks up the front, one that pushed my breasts up even higher than normal. Pairing that with the black leather skirt that hit the middle of my thighs seemed like the only option that made sense.

Less than two hours sitting on my couch and watching Succession later and all of the ivy had been sewn into place. After a little maneuvering I even managed to turn the broad, verdant colored leaves to a makeshift garter for each of my thighs.

Standing here in this bathroom and looking at my reflection, the extra ivy twisting from the top of the high topped canvas sneakers on my feet, I can’t help but smile at how good it looks snaking over my toned calves and thick thighs.

Poison Ivy.

“We better get down to the pit before it gets too crazy.” With a wide smile on her face, I laugh along with her as her fingers tangle with mine, pulling me along. “If we’re lucky we can get close to the barricade.”

Staying close behind her, the two of us manage to squeeze through the sea of people, finding a spot in the pit good enough that we would be able to get a decent view.

I’d been to plenty of shows before but it felt like nothing compared to the pit at a Harry Styles show.

Even as the show eventually starts, it’s clear that everyone got the memo to dress up and seeing the man of the hour— I’m so glad this is where I ended up.

The way he looks tonight should be illegal.

The way he’s looking at me?

Criminal.

Up on the stage, I make eye contact with him again as he passes by, my body heating under his gaze for what feels like the millionth time.

“God, he keeps looking at you!” The girl with two boas and a pink cowboy hat next to me says, her eyes wide. “What the fuck?!”

I feel my lips as they turn into a smirk, raising my eyes back to the stage to see him in front of me again.

Being so close to the barricade was an accident. Somehow, someway we managed to make out way closer and closer as the night went on. Dancing with everyone around us all night has been the best part of the show.

Well… That and seeing Harry dressed in the most delicate and detailed costume.

A clown with the prettiest cream fabrics and lace along with the most perfect moon and stars offsetting the lighter colors with their darkness. Even his cheeks have the rosiest hue— complete with little pearl drops along his cheeks and above his brows.

Nothing too scary, but something just sexy enough.

As he plays the song everyone longs to hear, this time when lyrics roll off of his heart shaped lips in front of me, there’s no mistaking it.

‘And when I sleep, I'm gonna dream of how you —‘

Eyes set on mine, he brings the tip of each finger to his flattened tongue, a tease of how he would certainly be able to please between the sheets.

Rolling my eyes as my best friend grabs my arm, her fingers pressing into the bare skin of my bicep, I find his gaze lingering before he moves on — deciding to entertain the other side of his stage before making his exit.

It feels like the scene of a documentary as the end of the show finally unfolds and people make their way from the stadium, a mass of people all looking for something to get them as high as the feeling Harry Styles gives them.

Laughing on the way out, I give the longest hugs that I can manage before slipping out into the night to find the small bar that has always welcomed me on a night like tonight.

A night when I’m not ready to dream quite yet.

Between the way the city never sleeps and the people out for their own version of tricks and treats, it feels like hours before I find what I’m looking for even if it’s not terribly far away from where I started.

Still dressed in the costume I threw together at the last minute, I don’t even find myself caring much about that. People from all across the city are dressed in various Halloween get ups— making it that much easier to blend in.

Even if the majority of my skin feels like it’s on display.

Smiling as I grip the door handle, it’s the large hand that covers mine that makes my heart race.

The anchor tattoo.

The mermaid.

The cross.

Turning on my heel, the same eyes that looked into mine in front of thirty thousand people trace over my face — over my freckles, over my cheekbones… Over my lips.

“It’s you.” Low and raspy, the accent drips off his lips as they turn into a sinister grin.

Rolling my tongue along the inside of my cheek, I watch his eyes follow the movement as I press through the door and let him follow.

“It’s me.”

The bar is small and dimly lit, the best place to come if you don’t want to be found.

I’ve come here for years, a product of begging to be lost.

Turning my back on him, I make my way to the bar and sit on one of the stools, smiling as the bartender makes his way down to me. I can feel Harry’s presence as he slides onto the stool next to me, his thigh brushing against the skin of my thigh that my skirt doesn’t cover.

“Hey, babe.” Leaning over the bar and kissing my cheek, the familiar face behind the bar places a shot glass on the counter before filling it with tequila and placing a lime along the rim, sliding it to me. “How was your night?”

My face turns towards the man next to me, his features sharper in the low light as he studies me carefully before I look away from him with a shrug. “It was okay.”

A laugh falls from his lips as he leans into me, his lips brushing against my ear. “Okay? Is that all you have to say about me?”

“Maybe it is.” My shoulders lift in a shrug as I turn to face him, reaching for the shot and taking it, watching Harry as his eyes focus on my lips where I taste the lime. “Why? Are your feelings hurt?”

Catching the attention of the person behind the bar, those mossy eyes hold mine as he orders. “Can I please have four shots of tequila?”

“You alright with this guy, Chan?” Looking between the two of us, his eyes narrow in Harry’s direction.

I laugh. “We’re good. You can pull your best friend shit somewhere else.”

Rolling his eyes, he pours the shots out for the two of us. Leaving a small bowl of salt and limes before making his back to the other end of the bar.

“Chan?” Harry’s voice is rich and smooth, just like you always hear about. “Is that short for Chandler?”

I shake my head as I bring my hand up and flatten my tongue before running it across the back of my hand, eyes locked on his. “No, it’s not.”

“Are you going to tell me?” Watching my every move, his green eyes watch as I pinch salt between my fingers and let it fall to my skin.

“Should I?” Once again, I flatten my tongue across the same spot and taste the salt before picking up the small glass of liquor, tipping it back and letting it burn down my throat. “What’s in it for me if I do?”

Tension unlike I’ve ever known settled between us.

Somewhere my brain tells me to be careful, but the reckless part of me says that sometimes things are just meant to happen.

The odds of running into a man like him are practically zero. Yet here I am with flushed skin from the warmth of his proximity.

I reach for the lime but Harry beats me to it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and pressing the acidic fruit to my bottom lip, eyes begging for me to open for him.

“Suck.”

Wrapping my fingers around his wrist, I flick my tongue across the broad side of the lime before wrapping my lips around it and following the simple instructions.

“So you do know how to listen.” Harry pulls his hand away from me before dropping the fruit back into the empty shot glass.

Tilting my head back, I laugh.

Pressing my hand on his thigh and leaning forward, this time my lips brush against his ear. “I only listen when I feel like it.”

“Hmm.” He hums as he leans back, eyes looking over my body. “Do you feel like listening tonight?”

I shake my head as he reaches for my hand and pulls me in close, his eyes burning through me as his tongue darts out and presses to my skin along my forearm. Holding me in place and using his other hand, he easily sprinkles the salt along my heated skin before flattening his tongue and tasting it.

My breath hitches in my throat as his fingers tip the glass back, taking the lime and holding it out for me. Taking the hint, I bite onto it and lean towards him letting him take it from me with a smug grin on his face. His lips brush against mine for only a moment before he leans away from me, sucking the juice out of the fruit to chase the bitter taste of the liquor. “Come on, tell me your name.”

“I’ll tell you on one condition.” Squeezing his thigh, I brush my lips against the base of his throat, smiling when I feel him swallow thickly.

“And what’s that?” Gripping my chin, Harry tilts my head backwards and grins at me, his notorious bunny teeth biting into his bottom lip.

I roll my tongue along my bottom lip, watching as his eyes drop to my mouth. “You keep staring at my lips like you want them to do something.”

“Yeah?” His grip on my chin tightens. “What if I want to put them to work?”

I lick my bottom lip as my breathing shallows, giving Harry the opportunity to press his thumb into the small bowl of salt and brush it along my bottom lip. “I’d say you talk a lot for someone who hasn’t made a move yet.”

Harry’s eyes darken as he leans in, flicking his tongue along my bottom lip and tasting the salt. Reaching for one of the last two shots that he ordered, I watch as he pours the liquid into his mouth before using his thumb to pull on my bottom lip in a silent request.

Running my tongue along my lower lip and opening my mouth for him, I can’t even be bothered to be surrounded by other people or the sound that comes from the back of my mouth when he spits the liquor onto my waiting tongue.

Grabbing the lime and holding it against the skin of my throat, I’m almost embarrassed by the whimper that falls from my lips when he squeezes the wedge and his warm tongue catches the juice as it rolls down the column of my throat as I swallow.

“That’s right… Swallow for me, pretty girl.”

I can barely register his words before his lips are on mine and I can taste the flavor on his tongue as it finds mine, one of his hands sliding back into the waves at the nape of my neck and the other slipping just under the hem of my skirt and past the dark leaves of my costume.

He kisses me hard and with no abandon, as if he wants nothing more than to devour me. Leaning closer to him and hooking my finger into the waistband of his pants, I moan lightly when his teeth drag across my bottom lip.

“I need to get you alone.” He mumbles, his hand sliding along the inside of my thigh as his fingertips dance across my skin. “Need you on your knees while I watch those lips wrap around me.

I gasp when he drops his lips to my neck, nipping and sucking my skin. “There’s a private bathroom in the office— fuck, down the hall.”

Leaving the last shot, Harry takes my hand and pulls me towards the hallway that leads us in the right direction. With his arms wrapping around my body from behind, once we stop just long enough for me to punch in the code for the keypad I can feel him hard and ready behind me.

“If you don’t hurry, I’m going to take you right fucking here.” Nipping my earlobe, Harry plays with the hem of my skirt as his hand grips my throat and turns my head to the side, giving him more access. “How many ways are you going to let me fuck you, pretty girl?”

“Fuck.” Punching the last number into the keypad, when it beeps twice and I turn the handle, it opens easily.

We barely make it into the room and slam the door before Harry turns on me, pressing my body into the door and pressing his thigh between my legs, pinning me in place.

His mouth is on mine in a messy and hungry kiss all while his hands take their time exploring my body. From my breasts to my ass, not one place goes unnoticed by his skilled hands.

“This fucking costume.” Bringing the skin at the base of my throat between his teeth only to soothe it with his tongue, I shiver when he drags his finger along the top of the ivy, digging behind it enough to trace my skin. “People think that it’s so bright on stage and that I can’t see, but I do — I fucking see everything.”

Kissing under my jaw, his hands work the hooks that line the front of the top, one by one. “Tell me what you saw, Harry.

“You want to know?” Dragging his tongue across the swell of my breasts, I reach up and run my nails across his scalp, making him moan. “I saw you, dressed in this—“ Releasing the last button and letting the top of the corset fall to the floor, Harry cups both of my breasts and squeezes them, pinching each nipple at the same time. “I watched you dance, seeing your perfect ass sway from side to side like you didn’t give a single fuck that I was on that stage.”

Dropping down, Harry runs his tongue across the sensitive peak a moment before taking it between his teeth, pulling back enough to make me gasp. “I didn’t— I was more of a Niall girl—”

“Beautiful and bratty, huh?” His fingers find my throat as I smile, pressing into my skin just enough that my lips part on an exhale from the rush. “The only name that's going to come off your lips tonight is mine.”

“You seem so—.” My thoughts all but disappear when I feel Harry reach down and slip his hand under the tight material of my skirt after tracing the edge of the garter along my thighs.

Taking my nipple back into his mouth and teasing, he pulls back to look at me as his knuckle presses into my clit over the fabric of my underwear. “I seem so what, Chan? You won’t even tell me your name yet here you are — dripping down the inside of your thighs for me.”

“So full of yourself.” I finally get out. “Maybe you really are an arrogant son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

Pushing the fabric aside, Harry doesn’t even pace himself, sliding two fingers deep inside of me and making me cry out as his thumb circles my clit with so much pressure it borders pain. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Harry—“ I moan.

Curling his fingers, I feel like my body is on overdrive as he works an orgasm out of my body quicker than even I’ve been able to do it. . “Come on my fingers for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

Reaching out and gripping his shoulders, I can see the dark evergreen of his eyes just on the rim of his blown out pupils under the lights as his breath comes out shallow, the muscles under his skin flexing as he works me even harder through my orgasm.

Once my body loses all of the tension I tip forward into Harry’s arms with a laugh. “Jesus.”

“Yeah? That good?” He smirks as he wraps my hair around his fist. Once, twice. “Chan, I need to ask you something.”

I nod, my eyes the only things he’s focused on. “Now you want to ask questions?”

“I’m serious.” His nose brushes mine before he places a soft kiss to my lips, a complete contrast to the way he just coaxed a release from my body. “I need to know that if you don’t like something or you want me to stop that you’ll tell me, okay?”

I nod, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, taking my time to enjoy the way his tongue feels moving with mine. “I promise.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes burn into my features looking for any sign of hesitance.

“I’m sure.” Getting impatient, I nip his bottom lip. “Now, are you going to fuck me or stand here and be a gentleman all night? Which one is it?”

“Such a fucking mouth on you.” Flexing his hand in my hair and pulling tighter, there’s no option but for me to sink to my knees as Harry guides me. “I hope you know how to use it for more than just your attitude.”

Sitting back on my heels, I lick my lips. “Only one way to find out.”

“Go on then.” Nodding towards his straining cock beneath the fabric of his pants, he waits for me to undo the button. “Let me watch you choke on my cock so that you can’t talk back to me.”

When my hands finally free him, I whimper at the same time Harry’s groan fills the small office. Leaking with precome, I flick the tip of my tongue to collect the pearly drops.

“Pinch my thigh if it gets to be too much, yeah?” Using his hand that doesn’t still have my hair wrapped around his fist, he cups my jaw and runs his thumb across my cheek as I nod. “Be a good girl and open your mouth for me.”

Taking Harry into my mouth, I wish I could take a picture of how he looks from this angle. His head tilts back as a moan curves around his lips, I swear to god I’ve never seen anything sexier in my entire life. Pushing his hips forward slowly, I hollow my cheeks as I use my tongue to feel every single ridge and vein he has to offer me. My hands rest on his thighs as he drops his head down and meets my gaze.

“I’m going to go harder, is that okay?” With his cock still in my mouth, I nod. “Good fucking girl, good girl.”

Harry pushes his thighs even deeper, groaning at the feeling of his cock sliding down the back of my throat and making the muscles constrict around him from the intrusion. It feels like so much pressure and not enough at the same time as he repeats the action. Tears form in my waterline as I choke over and over, the tears spilling out onto my cheeks.

“See how good you're taking my cock down your pretty little throat?” Sliding his hand from my cheek, I moan around him as his hand rests across my throat. “Fuck, are you going to swallow for me?”

I choke once more, nodding.

“Good.”

It’s one word that precedes his release, one that I make good on my promise and swallow every drop of.

Once Harry pulls back, I take a deep breath and look up to him for only a moment before he pulls me to my feet and spins us around. Lifting me up and sitting me onto the desk, stepping between my legs and tracing his fingers over the edges of the ivy still wrapped around me.

Instantly his lips are on mine, groaning at his own tastes as he reaches between my legs and pushes the material of the leather skirt up, his fingers finding the sensitive nerve at the apex of my thighs as my hips roll forward to meet the friction.

“Are you this wet for me?” Lips ghosting over mine, his fingers find my nipple, pinching. “Do you want a taste?”

“Yes, please.” I say, looking into his eyes as he brings his fingers up, smearing the arousal across my bottom lip before kissing me again.

It’s impossible not to feel crazed as his hands fall to my thighs and push up my skirt, watching as it bunches up around my hips. “Lay back for me.”

Placing his hand in the center of my chest, I fall back onto the desk and whimper when I feel his warm lips leaving lingering kisses along the inside of my thighs.

“Look at you, so willing to let me do whatever I want with you tonight. I don’t even want to unwrap this pretty package you’ve put on for me.” His breath ghost across my center, the anticipation making me feel like I could explode at any minute. “I guess I got lucky— finding you on a night where you want to listen. A night where you want to be told what to do. Am I right?”

Harry doesn’t give the time to formulate an answer, his tongue immediately pressing into my clit before sucking it into his mouth. The action takes me by surprise as my back arches off the desk and my hands search for anything to hold onto.

Dragging patterns across the nerve, I cry out his name as he devours me like he’s never done before. As he releases my clit, his tongue finds my entrance and makes a languid path through my arousal before reaching the place I want him the most.

Up and down.

Side to side.

The stimulation makes my thighs shake as he tugs my hips toward him until my ass hangs off the desk and he pulls my dripping cunt even further into his face.

“Harry, fuck.” My hands flip, nails digging into the wood of the desk no doubt leaving marks. “Right there, fuck. I’ve never— never been so close so fast—“

Pushing myself up to my elbows, I let my head roll back as Harry rolls my clit between his teeth before pulling back, delivering a harsh slap to my outer thigh.

“Do you want to come for me?” Pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee, he raises a brow in my direction and smirks when I nod. “If you want to come for me— if you’re going to scream my name— you’re going to watch me as you do it. You’re going to watch me devour you like my last meal, do you understand?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod, resisting the urge to roll my head back when he immediately finds my clit and brings two fingers to my entrance, pushing them in and finding my g-spot.

“Harry.” His name falls off my lips like a prayer as he keeps his eyes on mine. “Please, please let me come. I need it, I—

I feel it as my body gives into the pleasure Harry so willingly gives.

My back arches, my breast pushing up into the air and not even a sound is able to pour from my mouth. Reaching out to grasp something and knocking a cup of pens onto the floor behind me, I cry out.

“Let everyone know who makes you feel this good.” Standing up, Harry looks down at me as he fists his cock in his hand. “I need to be inside of you right fucking now.”

“Condom?” I ask, still trying to catch my breath.

Harry reaches behind him and grabs his wallet, pulling one out and ripping it open with his teeth before rolling it on his length. “Tell me what you want? Hard? Soft?”

“Give me what nobody else can, don’t fucking hold back.” I grit out, feeling him run his cock along my clit. “Prove to me that you can fuck as good as everyone thinks you can.”

Harry smiles down at me only a moment before thrusting his hips forward, burying himself as deep as possible, making me scream out for him. “How’s that for a start? You’re so fucking wet for me.”

“Harry!” I cry. “I need it just like that, so deep.”

Pulling his hips back, Harry leans over to kiss me as he thrusts again, the power behind it pushing the desk forward an inch. “Yeah? You like feeling like this? Feeling so fucking full that you can’t stand it. Fuck, you take my cock so fucking well, so fucking well.”

“You’re so big, shit.” I moan, my head lolling to the side as his hands spread across my waist and grip me before slamming into me. “God. It feels so— so fucking good.”

“You can take it.” Harry moans above me, his eyes going back and forth between my face to where he disappears inside of me, watching as I take every inch of him. “It feels like this was made for me. So tight, so warm.”

“Please, I need more—“

At my words alone, Harry pulls out and pulls me off the desk and turns me around. Pressing his hand between my shoulder blades, he bends me over the desk before pushing my skirt back up around my waist and grips the waistband to hold me in place.

“Is this what you wanted?” Peering at him over my shoulder, I open my mouth on a breathless moan when his hand cracks across the left side of my ass — quickly followed by the right. “Did you need me to fuck you from behind so I could spank you like this? Huh?”

I feel Harry as he slowly pushes his hips forward, filling me. Listening to his moans as they bounce off the walls, my own whimpers mix with the sound. Gripping my hips, he takes his time as he works so slow — each inch more agonizing than the last before his hips press against my ass.

“Are you going soft on me back there?” Looking at him over my shoulder, I smirk when fire flashes behind his eyes. “Is the guy from the bar all of a sudden gone?”

Harry rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek, shaking his head before raising his hand and delivering a harsh slap, one that’s sure to leave his handprint behind.

“I know you fucking like that, don’t you? You’re squeezing my cock like it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.” Fingers digging into my hips, I moan when he pulls me back onto his cock and buries himself even deeper. “Tell me — tell me I'm the best you’ve ever had.”

Gripping the edge of the desk, I try to ground myself as Harry brushes against my g-spot with every single thrust, the pull in the base of my spine getting so strong that I don’t know how much longer I'll be able to hold out.

“I’ve neve been fucked like this.” I cry. “Nobody has ever, ever made me feel so fucking good.”

My eyes roll back as Harry presses his fingers against my clit and works them in time with his trusts, making me push up onto the tips of my toes in search of the release that isn’t far off.

“Like that, oh my god.” Panting, I meet him thrust for thrust as he fucks me harder and harder. “I'm so close.”

“Come on pretty poison girl, soak my cock for me.” Gripping the back of my neck, Harry presses me into the desk and gives me everything he has until my body gives up, releasing around him. “Fuck. you feel so good when you come around me like that. So damn good.”

Slowing his rhythm, Harry sweeps my hair off of my back and leans over me, pressing kisses up the curve of my spine. “Harry.”

“Yes?” His voice is soft as he presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You are incredible.”

“One more.” The words fall from my lips even though I know that I'm so fucked, that I know I won’t last much longer. “I want one more.”

Stopping his movements, I feel Harry chuckle. “You think you can handle me again?”

“I want to see you.” I say, my eyes darting toward the door of the bathroom. “Let me watch you come undone over me.”

Harry grins as he pulls out, the loss of him more than I expected. “I never would have guessed the woman in the crowd would be able to fuck me so well.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate people, Harry.” I walk in front of him, listening to the way he moans when he sees my own release dripping down the inside of my thighs. “Do you like what you see?”

“Fuck.” Running his hand through his curls. He looks freshly fucked and I can’t wait to finish him. “Let me see you.”

Stepping into the bathroom and turning on the light, the sleek and modern design is perfect. Turning, Harry steps close and finds my lips with his, taking his time to kiss me as his hands once again wander my body.

When he takes my nipple into his mouth, I let my head tilt back. “Come on. Give me what I want.”

“So fucking needy.” Harry responds, turning me around and pinning me against the counter. “Bend over, you pretty slut.” Pressing my ass out and shaking it from side to side, I cry out when Harry strikes his palm across each cheek. “How many?”

The tone in his voice makes me moan. “Fuck.”

“I said—“ Cracking down his palm again, he steps up behind me, pushing just his tip inside of my throbbing center. “How many.”

“Until you think I’ve had enough.”

I arch my back when he thrusts forward, his hand connecting with my ass even harder. “What if I never get enough. huh?”

“Harry—“

“What if I'm starting to think one night isn’t enough for me?” He thrusts so deep and I’m so sensitive that it feels so good, I clench around him. “Fuck, when you grip my cock like that I never want to leave — I could fuck you all damn night.”

I moan as I meet his gaze in the mirror, looking at the tattoos on his arms as he slides his hands up my back, gripping my shoulders and pulling me back onto his cock. “Don’t say that.”

“What? Don’t say that I want you?” Bringing his palm against my skin, his gaze locks on mine. “This— fuck, this isn’t normal.”

“What?” I ask, biting my bottom lip and letting my head fall forward. “What isn’t—”

“Feeling like this after one night.” Thrusting into me so hard that I scream, I feel tears in my eyes over the way my body feels ready to give into him again. “I’ve never had sex like this, never fucked anyone this good.”

I let my head fall to the side as my cheek presses against the cool counter, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing through the small room. “That’s because you've never been with someone like me before.”

“Fuck—“ Harry is relentless as he searches for his release. “I need you to come for me again, please.”

Begging me, his eyes are hazy as he looks at me, gaze looking with mine until with one thrust, my body shatters around his. “Harry!”

“Oh, shit—“

I watch as his head rolls back and his body stills for just a moment before his hips slowly guide in and out of me, riding us through the orgasms we’ve given each other.

“There you go, pretty girl.” Running his hands up and down my back. I take a deep breath. “You’re so fucking good. So good, Chan.”

I take a deep breath as I try to center myself. “Harry, that was—“

Resting his forehead between my shoulder blades, his warm breath skates across my skin. “I didn’t know it would be like that when I saw you tonight, the woman dressed with ivy across her body— that the vines would wrap around me and pull me in.”

“I don’t know why you’re the surprised one.” I say, wetting my lips. “You’re the one that showed up here. How?”

Harry pulls out, a whimper falling from my lips at the loss of him. “I don’t know… I wanted to get a drink somewhere where I wouldn’t feel like Harry Styles — I wanted to go somewhere small and local.”

“And you ended up here?” I ask, looking up at him from under my lashes.

Grabbing a hand towel, Harry presses a kiss to my temple before running it under warm water and hoisting me onto the counter, laughing as I wince.

“I ended up here.” He smiles as he reaches his hand between my legs, kissing me when I gasp as he runs the warm cloth over my sensitive clit.

We both look at each other and it’s almost like Harry can’t help it when he leans down to kiss me, taking his time as his hands come up to cup my cheeks.

“Let’s get you dressed, okay?” He speaks the words against my lips but makes no move to let me off the counter to grab my top. “Maybe in a few minutes.”

I laugh. “Come on, we have to get out of here before someone comes in.”

“I hope they do.” kissing down the side of my neck, Harry rests his forehead against my collarbone. “I need everyone to know I was with you — that you’ve been fucked you harder than you ever have in your life.”

Resting my hand in the middle of his chest, I push him backwards and hop off the counter on shaky legs, Harry laughing as he rests his hands on my hips to guide me back into the office.

“Here, let me help you.” It’s a sweet gesture to see a man like him help me back into my top, watching as he uses all of his concentration to make sure every hook gets fastened properly while he doesn’t disturb the leaves.

“Thank you… For tonight.” I say, looking over his features. “I really had a good time.”

Harry smiles and brushes a lock of hair from off my face. “I did too.”

I give him one last smile, reaching for the door handle.

Before I turn it, Harry reaches for my hand, turning me and pressing me into the door one last time, finding my lips with his own.

Unlike most of the kisses tonight, this one is so slow, so gentle.

“I know I'm asking a lot, but I need to be able to see you again — I don't know what my brain is doing to me, but I just know that I need it.” The look in his eyes is so full of hope, so soft. “I’ll understand if you say no.”

“Here.” I hold my hand out, hoping he gets the hint.

When he does, he takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over. I easily put my name and number in before giving it back to him, watching his lips curl up with a grin.

“Channing?” Looking from his phone to me, I smile as my hand grips the doorknob and finally push it open.

I wink at him as I step out into the hall. “It’s me.”

He steps forward and grips my hip one last time. bringing his lips down to mine.

“It’s you.”

💖

[sweetcherryharry]

Begin Again — 04

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up at one of his Love On Tour shows.

(masterlist)

There he stood, right in front of her, a smile playing on his lips as their gazes met. Y/N felt a rush of emotions, a mix of surprise, nostalgia, and an underlying current of something more profound. The unspoken words of their past seemed to linger in the air between them.

Harry, with his soft brown curls and a simple white shirt paired with jeans and worn-out vans, looked like a page from a memory that she had been trying to forget. Yet, as he stood there, the year they hadn’t seen each other melted away, and they found themselves suspended in a moment that defied time; it seemed like the past months never happened.

The Love Band's living room, with its soft lighting and the faint melody of Fleetwood Mac in the background, turned into a cozy space where only the current moment held importance, at least for Y/N and Harry.

"Hi, sunflower," he replied, the words carrying a weight that transcended the casual greeting. The endearment was a throwback to the days when Harry used to affectionately call her by that sweet nickname, a reminder of their time together.

To Y/N, hearing it from him sounded bittersweet, like the echoes of a melody that brought both the joy of nostalgia and the ache of what they were once.

As Harry spoke, his heart seemed to beat in his chest like the rhythm of a familiar song. In awe of her presence, he couldn't help but marvel at the woman she was. The way her eyes sparkled, the slight curve of her lips as she smiled – it was a sight he had missed more than he realized. 

In that suspended moment, their gazes held a conversation that words struggled to capture. Without a word, Y/N found herself stepping forward, drawn by an instinct that transcended logic. Harry, as if guided by the same unspoken force, opened his arms, a silent invitation.

As they embraced, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the comforting warmth of each other's presence. The hug felt like coming home after a long journey, a familiar haven that resonated with shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the soft melody of their intertwined past.

For a moment, the cozy living room encapsulated the essence of what they used to be – a refuge where their souls met without pretense. The faint scent of Harry's cologne, the gentle rise and fall of their shared breaths, all contributed to the sanctuary of the embrace.

However, as they lingered in the hug, reality began to reassert itself. The made-up living room, once an intimate haven, became a stage where the complexity of their emotions played out. They reluctantly pulled away, a mutual understanding passing between them. The connection was undeniable, but so was the need for boundaries.

"I loved the show, Harry, you did amazing," Y/N said, a soft smile on her lips as she attempted to bridge the transition from the warmth of the hug to the safer ground of friendship. "I love the new album, too."

Harry's eyes crinkled at the corners, appreciating her genuine compliment. "Thanks, Y/N. It means a lot coming from you."

In his mind, he couldn't help but think that she was the muse behind the songs, wondering if she realized the entire album was dedicated to her. The melodies and lyrics, born from their shared experiences, whispered a silent acknowledgment of the impact she had on his creative journey.

"I can see how much you've all grown as a band," Y/N continued, her gaze drifting to the people surrounding them, all engaging in conversation between them, trying to give the couple a little privacy. "The Love Band has really evolved, and it's inspiring."

Harry nodded, a humble gratitude in his response. "We've put a lot of heart into it. It's been quite a journey."

"Speaking of journeys, these are my best friends, Natalie and Maia," Y/N chimed in, a playful glint in her eye, pointing towards the two girls that stood a few meters away. "Let me present you to them; they're fans, just like me." She joked, and Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the playful introduction.

Both Harry and Y/N walked towards them, and as they neared, Natalie and Maia exchanged excited glances, their smiles widening at the sight of the acclaimed musician in their midst.

"Harry, these are my best friends, Natalie and Maia," Y/N chimed in, a playful glint in her eye, gesturing towards the two girls who stood now close to the pair. "Natalie and Maia, this is Harry."

Harry offered a warm smile, extending his hand to each of them. "Nice to meet you both."

Natalie and Maia, both trying to contain their excitement —understanding that he was also their friend’s ex-boyfriend— shook his hand enthusiastically, exchanging introductions with genuine joy. "Nice to meet you Harry, we enjoyed the show so much," Natalie admitted.

Y/N, sensing the formal atmosphere, playfully rolled her eyes. "Okay, you two, you can fangirl. It's okay."

This broke the ice, and they all burst into laughter. The living room, with its soft lighting and the distant hum of Fleetwood Mac's tunes, witnessed the easy camaraderie of new friends. As they settled into conversation, the transition from fan admiration to genuine connection felt effortless, the shared laughter echoing in harmony with the melodies that surrounded them.

Y/N, sensing Natalie and Maia's eagerness to get to know one of the artists they both admired, decided to give them some space. With a smile, she excused herself, mentioning she needed a moment and headed towards the conjoined bathroom.

As she closed the door behind her, Y/N took a deep breath, grateful for the chance to collect her thoughts in the brief solitude. The room's distant chatter and laughter, though comforting, served as a stark reminder of the evening's unexpected reunion with Harry.

As her eyes met her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a mix of emotions played across her face. There was joy, undoubtedly, at the sight of Harry again after a year of separation. His presence evoked a rush of memories, laughter, and shared moments that had shaped a significant chapter of her life. Yet, intertwined with that joy was an ache, a reminder of the emotions she thought time had dulled.

The realization hit her; she had missed him more than she allowed herself to acknowledge. Seeing him, hearing his voice, brought back the echoes of the past, the shared dreams and the bitter taste of the breakup that lingered beneath the surface. It was as if time had folded, and for a moment, the wound felt fresh again.

She held back tears, feeling the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The bathroom, with its muted ambiance, became a sanctuary where she grappled with the bittersweet truth of their renewed connection. The mix of emotions was a testament to the complexity of their history, a narrative that had left an indelible mark on her heart.

Lost in her whirlwind of memories and emotions, Y/N hadn't realized how much time had passed. The knock on the bathroom door jolted her back to the present, and she hastily wiped away a stray tear. "Coming!" she called out, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

A familiar voice responded, breaking through the door's barrier. "It's me, sunflower. Can I come in?"

Y/N took a big breath, her heart fluttering at the endearing nickname that held echoes of a shared past. With a decisive nod, she unlocked the door, letting him in.

The bathroom door swung open, revealing a smiling Y/N, standing amidst the faint glow of the room. Yet, as normal as she tried to portray herself, he knew her more than she knew herself.

Harry stepped in, closing the door behind him, his green eyes holding a mixture of concern and understanding. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, just needed a moment.” The bathroom felt like their own little bubble and privacy; vulnerable. And for a moment, this was her Harry —well, was— and decided to just be honest. “It's just… a lot to take in, you know?"

Harry mirrored her sad smile, acknowledging the weight of their reunion. "I understand. It's a lot for me too." He gently touched her arm in a comforting gesture, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes. "I never expected to see you in the crowd again… after everything.”

For him, the sight of her in the audience triggered a strong sense of déjà vu, as if time had folded back on itself, recalling the moments when she used to be a familiar face in the crowd every night during their time together.

Feeling the warmth of his touch and the weight of shared history, Y/N found herself enveloped in a spontaneous hug. Harry's arms wrapped around her, a familiar embrace that brought a rush of mixed emotions. At that moment, words seemed inadequate, so they let the hug speak for itself.

"I missed you, bug," Harry whispered, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I'm glad you're here."

Y/N, her eyes damp with unshed tears, managed a small, heartfelt smile. "Me too." The simplicity of those words carried the depth of the emotions they both felt. In the shared hug, amidst the echoes of their past and the uncertainties of the present, they found a moment of solace—a bridge between what was and what could be.

hellooo i'm back!! :) if you want to be added to the taglist, please reply to this post! thank you so much for the support, hope u enjoy &lt;3

taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @one-sweet-gubler @jjsgirlp4l @lovingmesstuff @gem1712 @tinyhrry @kipperthedog2004 @behindmygreyeyes @theekyliepage @winterrays @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @slutforcoffein @a-strange-familiar @grapejuice-rry @tranquility-moon @tpwksummer @awkwardbisexuall @ameerakane20 @harryspirate  @that-one-little-soybean @voniikg @lovergirl42442 @daydreamingwithaseaview @harrysdaydream22 @lonelyxhabit @obsessed-with-every-book-ever @silenthappyplace @ameerakane20 @hesdebility

[narrycherries]

ivy: how’s one to know..

(enemies to lovers) harry is just an ass and (Y/n) is just a stranger

masterlist // ivy series (link coming w part 2)

word count: 8.6k

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, harry x reader, fem reader, angst

[before you start: I wrote the female character with a description (blonde, blue eyes, short, thicker build) but of course feel free to change the descriptors to whatever you prefer!]

The holiday season had wrapped up a handful of days ago and things were slowly starting to go back to normal. The sparkling strings of lights decorating neighborhoods and businesses all around the city were being taken down and shoved back in their storage boxes until the last month of the year circled around again. The weather was staying consistent, though. The gloomy overcast skies and chilly wind that whipped through the streets were enough to keep people bundled up and wishing for spring to arrive.

Most people she knew enjoyed the holidays a lot more than she did. Sure, she loved to see the colorful lights lining roofs and windows of boutiques and restaurants along the main strip. There was something so juvenile, so innocent about the giddy feeling that would fill her stomach as she saw a pile of fake presents and a decorated tree in a shop window. Somewhere deep down inside of her heart, she still had that spark that a child would have.

When she was growing up, she sought happiness during the holidays by admiring other people’s outdoor decorations or gazing in awe at the displays put up in her schools. She didn’t have what most people had that she went to school with, but she tried to be grateful, even as a young chlid, and appreciate what surrounded her.

A strong sadness was building in her chest as she slid the ceramic Santa Claus into his box to pack him away with the other Christmas decorations. She thought about the many years she questioned if Santa was real. There were so many nights when she’d squeeze her eyes shut and whisper out loud, her knees on the floor as she put her elbows into the mattress. There was so much hope in her. She believed that if she wished and prayed and dreamed enough, Santa would leave a present or two on the coffee table next to her dad’s stained coffee mug. There wasn’t a tree most of the years of her childhood, but her dad give gift her things (there was no magical Santa though). There were no twinkling lights outside of her window, hanging down from the roof with a clumsy droop. There were no ornaments to place on the branches of a fake tree, lined with a dusty skirt that would be covered with presents. There were no fresh baked cookies and steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The television never displayed joyful Christmas movies and specials. The radio on the kitchen counter never once sang a tune of a wintery song about snow and ice. No, none of that. It was just her dad, her brother, and herself for a while.

“Did you keep the box for this guy?” Emma’s curious voice snapped her from her trance.

She cleared her throat and looked up from her spot on the living room rug. Her ‘new’ roommate was holding a ceramic snowman who’s decorated style matched the Santa she just put away. She reached into the plastic storage container and grabbed the box, passing it up to Emma.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, (Y/n).” She smiled back, noticing that there was a glimmer of disappoint on her face, but she didn’t mention it to her. “You didn’t have to put everything away so fast. I would’ve been fine with it for a few more weeks.”

Emma had just moved in before Christmas. Her things were half way unpacked throughout the small house they now shared.

“I didn’t want it to crowd you. Besides, Christmas is over.” (Y/n)’s tone was partially rough as she began to pack away the miniature houses placed across the console table that the television hung above.

“I’m so excited to actually be here, like, full time. Niall’s a bit upset.. but I told him he’d survive.” She said with a laugh as she started to collect the small figurines that went with the village.

“I’m excited, too. I’m glad you’re actually up for decorating the space and not just.. letting me do it all. My last roommate was not particularly outgoing.” (Y/n) snickered at the thought, knowing she wouldn’t be missing that person at all. The girl was nice and all, but she was quite boring.

“Oh, totally! I’ve already got some stuff I want to show you in my room. Maybe we could put it out here or something.”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it’s cute.” She shot her friend a grin.

Emma wasn’t a new friend by any means. They met early on while they were both at university. Emma was actually her first partner for a project in one of their biology classes. They met on the third day of class and became friends very quickly. Their chemistry went far beyond the confines of the science lab. Emma was joyful and adventurous and offered (Y/n) that motivating spark to actually go out and have fun. Not that (Y/n) couldn’t match Emma’s energy once her veins were filled with alcohol, she just didn’t go out as much.

“Speaking of Niall, I haven’t seen him a while. How’s he doing?”

A proud smile crept to Emma’s lips. “He’s been good. But he’s been super busy with the store.. almost never get to spend time during the actual day with him.”

“But it’s going well, the store, I mean? Like he’s having success?”

Emma nodded. “It’s been great. I told him it would do good around here, especially with the college students. And besides, people are always looking for music lessons. I’m glad he took my advice and decided to offer those through the business.”

Niall was an excellent musician, or so (Y/n) has been told. She hadn’t actually seen him play anything in person, only through recordings and videos Emma had shown her. She knew Niall was talented, though. He played the guitar and the bass, both of which seemed entirely too complicated in (Y/n)’s mind. When they started dating last year, Niall was in the midst of finalizing a business plan and opening his music store. Emma told her all about it, including her fears and anxiety about the situation - but only because she was afraid Niall would get so caught up in the store that he would abandon their relationship. Niall ended up not doing that, obviously, and was able to balance everything in his life. He and Emma would be celebrating their one year anniversary on Valentine’s Day - which (Y/n) thought was particularly sweet and romantic.

“I’m glad everything’s working out.”

The store opened back in the summer, and (Y/n) had only gone by once to see the place. It was in a part of town she didn’t frequent very often, so the opportunity to casually stroll in was rare. It wasn’t like it was Emma’s store. While she did know Niall well enough to refer to him as a friend, she wasn’t close with him. She was supportive, of course, but not overly involved.

“He’s coming by later to help me put together the dresser. Well.. he’s going to do it for me, not help me.” She snickered as she joined (Y/n) on the floor to start gently laying the mini figurines in a small cardboard box they knew as home.

“I can make dinner if you’d like. Niall likes that pasta I make, right?”

“Yeah! He actually asked me about that a few weeks ago. He said I have to get your recipe.” She grinned back, rolling her eyes at the thought of her boyfriend’s obsession with food.

“He’s only had it like twice.. but it’s flattering to know I’m such a good chef.” (Y/n) laughed under her breath. “I’ll give you the recipe.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent on putting away the last of the decorations and moving them into the hallway closet. The box fit perfectly in the bottom of the closet. Emma disappeared into her room to continue unboxing her belongings. (Y/n) was mostly occupied with dusting the wood furniture and wiping down the kitchen. She liked a neat, tidy home and she was very glad to know that Emma did as well. She checked the cabinets to make sure she had the ingredients required for the pasta she’ll be making later on.

Every now and then, she’d hear a crash of something hitting the floor come from the hallway, presumably from Emma’s room. She would just giggle to herself as Emma’s dramatic cries of curses and sighs would fill the small home. Despite being friends for a handful of years, they had never lived in the same space before. Even while at university when it was mandatory for them to live on campus, they lived in different dorm buildings. Emma was in a sorority and definitely more comfortable with herself than (Y/n) was. She kept to her small dorm with her roommate, whom she didn’t have anything in common with but she was kind to her. If she were being honest, she thought Emma would try to move in with Niall once her old lease had expired. But, Niall was comfortable where he was in his apartment and he already had a roommate. As much as Emma wanted to live with him, it was just too soon anyway. They tossed around the idea, but (Y/n) mentioned to her that perhaps she needed to wait, just in case. Niall wasn’t upset with Emma’s decision to move elsewhere, as long as she was in the city close to him. (Y/n) was also informed that Niall’s roommate wasn’t too keen on letting someone else share their space. She had never met him before, didn’t even know his name, but she couldn’t blame them. She wouldn’t want her house to be permanently crowded either. Niall let Emma stay over there a lot, though, but spending the night for the weekend or on a random weekday when it was too late to drive back home was different than staying full time. And of course, Niall was allowed over whenever he wanted and she made that clear to Emma before she signed the lease. As long as he respected their home and didn’t leave a mess behind, he was welcomed.

A gentle sigh slipped past her thick lips as she trailed back to the living room. The open concept of the front of the home meant the living room was attached to the kitchen with no barrier other than the island. She sat down on the end of the couch, the damp kitchen towel she used to wipe down the furniture sat on the side table. She picked it up, along with the framed photo that was next to the pretty gold lamp. The gold of the frame didn’t quite match the lamp, but it was still beautiful to her. The ornate metal that decorated the frame was cold as she carefully rubbed the pads of her fingers over it. She stared at the photograph locked behind the glass, the speed of her heart beating increased only slightly.

The image was of her and her mother when she was around three years old. It was Halloween, she was dressed in a pink dress that was modeled after Princess Aurora, and her hair was curled and a little makeup playfully swept over her features. Her mother was dressed in a Cinderella themed costume, her matching golden blonde hair curled, too, and pinned up. It wasn’t the last holiday they spent together, but it was one of the only ones (Y/n) remembered. She doubted herself at times about the memory - she was only three and a half, did she actually remember it or was she imagining it? Despite always doubting herself, she knew too well that the memory was burned into her brain. She can remember the smell of the burning iron as her mom curled her hair. She remembers getting tickled by the fluffy makeup brush as a bit was applied to her face just to add to the illusion. She remembers the taste of the mini chocolate bar her mom unwrapped for her in the car in between neighborhoods - the night was full of trick or treating and giggles and squeals. She even remembered the way her mom’s hand carefully adjusted her curls when they got caught in the zip of (Y/n)’s costume. It was a memory she held dear to her heart, one she prayed she’d never lose. (Y/n) had always tried her hardest to find things to fill in the void of not having her mother around. But no matter how determined she was, nothing ever seemed to be enough. She found joy in little things, like collecting whatnots and trinkets that reminded her of the ones that littered her house when her mom was alive. She enjoyed searching for squirrels and birds in the park, collecting odd looking rocks during her walks, listening to her favorite songs on repeat, and a plethora of other things. But nothing could really fill the space in her heart.. It was quite a big space, after all.

That evening, after the sun nestled below the horizon and stars littered the dark winter sky, Emma invited Niall over for dinner. It was third day of actually staying here, since she opted to spend two weeks with Niall for Christmas between her parent’s place and his. (Y/n) was working on preparing the ingridents for the pasta when Niall knocked and was let in with a grinning Emma planting a kiss to his mouth. He laughed and brushed her off, not a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, even though he knew (Y/n) wasn’t watching.

“Hey, long time no see!” Niall said with a smile as he followed Emma into the kitchen.

(Y/n)’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Niall. It’s been a while, yeah?”

“I think you guys haven’t seen each other since the day we moved my crap in.” Emma said with a slight unsure tone.

“Your crap that still isn’t unpacked.” Niall sighed as he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing on his chest.

(Y/n) chuckled to herself as Emma began to give him excuses for why her things weren’t put away and in their new spots yet. The list included things like being busy with work, having errands to run, and of course ‘spending all my time with you’ that made Niall smack his lips and give her a sarcastic ‘okay, sure’.

They kept up their banter for a bit while (Y/n) rinsed her hands at the sink. She had finished everything she needed to do before actually cooking the food. When she turned towards them, Niall was peering his eyes into the pot of boiling water, frowning as he saw it was empty.

“She’s making the pasta you said you like.” Emma said as she grabbed his forearm to tug him away from the oven.

“Oh, really? That stuff was so good.” Niall’s eyes shot to (Y/n)’s. “I want a whole pot of it for my birthday, please and thanks.”

She shook her head in disbelief as a laugh rolled out of her mouth. “Isn’t your birthday in September?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just don’t want ya to forget.”

“C’mon, let's start with the dresser, Niall. Let (Y/n) cook.” Emma said after checking the time on her phone. “We’ll clean up the kitchen after dinner, okay? Don’t worry about it!”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when it's done.”

And just like that, she was alone in the kitchen again. It didn’t bother her to be alone, she had been for most of her life, especially her late teenage and adult years. Finding something to occupy her bored mind was not a new task for her to learn. She opted for sitting at the small dining table after setting the timer on the oven in case she forgot to check the time.

(Y/n) pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants and started to maneuver through the notifications that had come through since she last checked. One was a message from a random company that was offering a sale this coming weekend, there were two texts from Niall - the first asking if he needed to bring anything, the second saying Emma told him not to and to just ignore the text - the rest were random notifications from different apps.

Her attention went to her photo app as she scrolled to a few days ago, just a day or so after the New Year began. She went for a walk in the park close by one day during lunch when she had nothing else to do. She snapped a few photos of little random things, like a wild flower that had somehow managed to survive the low temperature, a bird that was perched on top of the black metal fence that lined the park, and a snapshot of the sky with the clouds parting in such a way that made it look like heaven. After having lost so much in life, she learned and forced herself to appreciate the little things that were around. Details of daily life, like the fall of a leaf to the ground or the chirp of a bird in a tree, were almost therapeutic for her.

Dinner didn’t take too long to cook, but the dresser was seeming to take much longer than Emma had expected it to. When (Y/n) knocked on the bedroom door and stuck her head in, she grinned as she saw Niall sitting on the floor with his head thrown back and Emma pacing the room with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her once neatly fixed dark hair was messily tied in a bun on the back of her head. The instruction booklet for the dresser was laid out in between Niall’s legs, along with a torn bag of hardwear.

“Food’s ready.” She said with a singsong voice that made Niall pop his head up.

“Finally.” He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Emma’s wrist, tugging her behind him as they followed (Y/n) down the hall and towards the kitchen.

“Eat as much as you want, I made plenty.” She said as she let them make a bowl first.

“Don’t have to tell him twice.” Emma’s mouth shaped to a smile as Niall practically pushed her aside to be first.

“Guests eat first, right?” He joked as he gave them both a quick glance, a smirk on his face as he grabbed the serving utensil.

Once the three of them had fixed what they wanted and claimed a spot at the table, (Y/n) offered to grab everyone something to drink. Emma and herself chose a glass of ice water while Niall requested a Coke. Emma had just brought home a box this morning after her quick run to the grocery store. The food appeared to be a big hit as Niall scarfed it down, spitting out compliments and satisfied hums that made the girls giggle and roll their eyes jokingly at him.

“Em told me the store is doing great.”

Niall nodded as he sipped his drink. “Yeah, it’s been good, actually. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you do the lessons. I told her that people are coming in pretty much all day long.” Emma said.

“Yeah, if it’s not someone who’s into music already or just curiously out shopping.. The sign about the lessons really brings people in. And even if they don’t go through with it, they end up looking around and finding something.” Niall told them with a pleased smile, he was relieved his business was staying crowded and people actually enjoyed coming to the store.

“Did you end up finding someone to teach the guitar lessons? I know Emma said something about you were looking for someone else, since you got so busy with your bookings.”

“Yeah, my roommate actually. He’s decent at guitar and he’s just working with the beginners. I’m sticking to the people who sorta know how to play around that just wanna get better.”

(Y/n) nodded as she took another bite. “That’s good.”

The cooking had made the kitchen a bit warmer than it was before, so she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. The exposure of the small tattoo on the inside of (Y/n)’s elbow caught Emma’s eye.

“Oh!” She chirped suddenly, making Niall flinch. “I forgot to tell you, (Y/n), I’m getting a tattoo in a few weeks. Already got my appointment.”

“Oh, really? Where at this time?” (Y/n) asked with genuine curiosity.

“On my foot. Just a cute little flower. Niall says it's going to hurt.”

(Y/n) squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. “You don’t have any, do you?”

Niall chuckled. “No, but I’ve been told the foot is terrible.”

“I’m not a baby, Niall. It’s not my first one. Besides, Zayn said it would be fine since I’m used to the feeling.”

“Zayn is lying to you to spare your feelings and get your money. He is my friend, I think I'd know when he lies.” Niall was only teasing her, but it brought a flush to Emma’s cheeks.

“Shut up.” She mumbled through a pout.

(Y/n) was amused by their interaction, but she chose to move on with the conversation so Emma wouldn’t get too sensitive. She wasn’t over emotional or anything, but sometimes she would get embarrassed if Niall playfully taunted her in front of other people.

“Zayn.. is that the guy I met that time at the bar?” (Y/n) couldn’t remember the person’s name, but she was sort of sure that it was the same person they’re referring to.

Niall nodded to her. “Yeah. The one with all the tattoos.. I would say the one with the black hair but right now it’s platinum blonde.” The lift of Niall’s brows made her think that maybe he didn’t approve of the look, but he had no choice but to accept it.

“I thought that was the same guy. I’m pretty sure he told me he owned a shop.”

“He’s the best around.” Emma said with a laugh. “Plus.. he gives me a discount.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Niall puckered his lips and leaned her direction, demanding a kiss that he knew he wouldn’t get.

“Hush.” She pushed her fingers to his mouth and gently shoved his head back.

He laughed at her reaction. “Just saying, Em. He’s my friend.. like I said before.”

Emma ignored him and turned her eyes to (Y/n). “Anyway, Niall can’t come with me.. so I was going to see if you wanted to go.”

“I can see if I can.. just let me know the date and time.”

“Alright. I will. Niall, don’t be a pig.” She groaned as she saw he had slipped from the table and was at the stove, piling his bowl full again.

“Let him eat it. That way we won’t have to worry about leftovers.”

Emma shook her head. “He’d eat the actual house if you’d let him.”

—•—

(Y/n) was puckering her lips in the mirror of the car visor as she applied her lip balm. It was chilly outside and the weather wasn’t being kind to her skin at all. She huffed as she saw the patch of dry skin right in the middle of her forehead. She had just applied her moisturizer before they loaded in the car to drive to the tattoo shop. Emma was driving, and every now and then she’d glance (Y/n)’s way and notice she was still staring in the mirror.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asked as (Y/n) slid the cover over the mirror and flipped the visor up, her back hitting the seat as she felt defeated.

“My skin is horrible right now.” She rolled her eyes to herself, upset that it was bothering her this much. It was just a bit of dry skin and chapped lips, she shouldn’t be so affected by it.. but she was. “Even my lips are dying.”

Emma smiled. “I’m sure lots of people are struggling right now. I’ve got a dry spot on my cheek. It’s been there for a few days. Just the weather.”

“But it's annoying. Y’know my hormones are whacky sometimes.. feel like as soon as I get it under control, I break out or have something like this happen.”

“When we get home, we can look up some different products. Maybe we can find something better for seasonal dryness. My cream isn’t working either.”

(Y/n) shrugged and took out her phone to mindlessly look through one of her social media apps. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Even though the shop wasn’t too far from where they lived, Emma didn’t want to walk in the cold and she didn’t want to have to cover the tattoo with thick, tight shoes afterwards. So, (Y/n) agreed to drive back after they left, and after they grabbed some food. The shop was right around the corner, and it caught (Y/n)’s attention as they turned onto the street. It was just off the main road of the downtown area. The street was lined with different restaurants, stores, thrifting spots, boutiques, and a few law firm offices and an emergency clinic that stayed open during the weekend. She was familiar with the area, and had actually looked towards the tattoo shop’s sign plenty of times. They pulled into a spot and Emma took in a deep breath before pulling the keys out.

“Are you nervous?” (Y/n) said with an amused grin plastered over her lips as she opened the car door.

“What if Niall’s right? What if it hurts real bad?”

“You’ll be fine. You got one on your ribs and your spine. You can take it.”

Emma was still nervous as she followed (Y/n) to the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, allowing Emma to slip into the building first. It was warm in the small lobby of the tattoo shop. She was unfamiliar with the specific shop, but not the reality of one. It looked like the others she had been to and the place she got her tattoos done at. The walls were dark grey and decorated with interesting pieces of artwork and posters. There were rock band posters, most of which she recognized, on the wall behind the dark wood desk that acted as a check in counter. Nobody was at the counter, though. There was a small sleek, black leather couch pressed against the side wall, above it hung a large canvas with what appeared to be an original artwork painted on to it. She saw the signature in the lower left corner and smiled as she read over the name she had heard Niall use a few weeks ago during dinner. So this Zayn character was more than just a tattoo artist? She was intrigued by the brush work on the canvas, the beauty of the image was breathtaking. The muted colors stood out oddly bold against the stark white and midnight black areas. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. Although she didn’t partake in any form of art herself, she was an admirer. She enjoyed frequenting art galleries and museums and contributing to artists as much as she could. She once got a commissioned painting of a bouquet of flowers from an older woman in the area who was a somewhat known artist. The piece lives on the wall near the hall closet.

“Zayn?” Emma called out suddenly as she grew impatient with standing in the middle of the lobby.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as Emma disappeared through a door. It lead to the main tattoo room, with three different stations placed in it. The back room was Zayn’s private room that his clients were able to be secluded in. Emma knocked on that closed door and waited patiently. A few moments later, Zayn opened the door with a smile, happy to see her.

“Hi, Em.” He said, his accent thick as it rang through the small building.

(Y/n) heard them chatting, so she decided to peek through the door, a nervous smile on her face. Zayn’s eyes caught hers as he towered over Emma. He offered a friendly wave and gestured for her to join them. She nervously stepped over the threshold and swallowed gently.

“Zayn, do you remember (Y/n)? You guys met a while back.” Emma said with a gesture of her hand as (Y/n) approached them.

Immediately, she recognized his features - from his dark eyes to his nearly fully inked arms. His tattooed sleeves wrapped over his shoulders, around his neck, crept over each wrist and wiggled around his fingers. He was covered, to say the least. She could only presume the rest of him looked like that. Colorful tattoos mixed with jet black ones littered his skin. And she noticed, of course, that his hair was blond now like Niall had mentioned.

“I think so, yeah. You’re the chick Niall said could outdrink me, right?” Zayn asked with a laugh.

“I don’t drink that much.. but yeah, that’s me.”

Emma gave her a nudge of her elbow. “She can out drink anyone when she actually lets loose.”

Her eyes rolled as a smile toyed on her lips, still slick from the lip balm. “Yeah yeah.”

“Let me get my chair cleaned off and you ladies can come back here.” Zayn said just as he grabbed the knob to his private room.

They heard something hit the floor and then a shuffle of shoes moving against the tile. Emma furrowed her brows and gave Zayn a curious look.

“Someone in there?”

“Yeah, I just finished a piece.”

He opened the door and went inside, shutting it behind him again. (Y/n) turned towards Emma and gave her a smile, unsure of what to do next. Emma grabbed her hand and nodded towards the open lobby door.

“We can wait in here.”

They returned to the lobby, where (Y/n) was easily distracted by the art on the walls again. There was a print of a skull near the door. It had flowers pouring over the crown of it, which then melted to puddles as they hit the imaginary ground. She thought it was interesting and quite cool. From what she could tell about Zayn’s vibe, it fit it well. The music playing from the speakers in the ceiling was loud enough to be heard but not too invasive. She could tell it was a curated playlist going, because the song that just begun seemed to be sung by the same person as the one before.

“Zayn just texted me.. he said we can come back.”

“I thought someone was-“ (Y/n) stopped speaking the second a body appeared in the doorway. “Oh.”

“Hey, Harry.” Emma said with a friendly tone as she stood up, motioning for (Y/n) to follow her.

“Hey, Emma.” The stranger replied with a quick lift of one corner of his mouth.

(Y/n) was slightly confused because it obviously appeared that the two knew each other. She had never heard Emma refer to anyone by the name of Harry, at least not that she could recall. She licked her lips and let her eyes fall down his tall, broad frame.

“What did you get?” Emma asked with her usual curious voice.

(Y/n) was listening, but she wasn’t paying that much attention. She couldn’t help but be taken aback by the appearance of the person in front of them. He was tall, much taller than Niall but probably close to Zayn’s height. He looked like a sky scraper standing in front of Emma and herself, both of which were shorter than average. His long, dark hair shaped into curls that were messily laying on his shoulders. He suddenly swept his hand through his roots the second she realized he had such long hair. The motion caused the lights above them to ricochet off the rings covering his fingers.

“This.” He said as he extended his right arm to them, well mainly to Emma.

There was a freshly inked snake curling around his forearm, each scale placed perfectly on his tanned skin. There were remenents of blood speckled across his skin, and a deep redness that hazed over the entire tattoo.

“Wow! That’s so good.” Emma beamed at the delicate work.

“Yeah, took two sessions. Zayn got a bit tired last time.” He smirked gently at the girl he knew, completely ignoring the one he didn’t.

“Well, it was cool seeing you! Are you headed home?”

He shook his head. “Gonna sit here for a while. I’ve got to be at the store in an hour to help Niall.”

She checked the time. “Yeah, he said he was the only one closing tonight.”

“Emma?” Zayn called from the back room, his head looking around the doorframe searching for her.

“Coming!” She hollered back, taking one last look at Harry’s freshly inked arm. “It was good seeing you. If you leave before I get out of here, I’ll see you later.”

(Y/n) didn’t even realize she was tracing her eyes over his body. His arms were like tree trunks, muscles taut under his skin and veins popping out, rolling around as he moved. His legs were tightly wrapped in a pair of dark jeans, she could tell through the fabric that they were toned as well. It wasn’t until he suddenly walked past her, not even sparing her a glance, that she realized she had been standing frozen.

Emma started towards the back room, (Y/n) in two as she felt an embarrassed blush cover her cheeks. She didn’t know this Harry guy, but she hoped she wasn’t staring too hard at him. It definitely wasnt polite to just stare at a stranger, especially when she was blanking out. What if she was making a face at him? Something nasty, or something rude looking? She was unsure, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t seem bothered by anything as he took a spot on the couch.

Zayn’s office was just as she expected it to be. It was a deep shade of green, the walls coated in framed prints and a few smaller canvases of what she figured was his work. There was a small accent chair placed in the corner for guests. She sat down and started darting her eyes around the room. The type of work that Zayn had pinned to a board on the back wall caught her eye. He seemed to be good at everything, but most of it was bold color work or extremely detailed realism, sort of like the snake she saw on Harry’s arm moments ago. She wondered if Zayn had given himself any of his own tattoos or if he went to someone else. Surely, not every place on his body was accessible by his own hands, but maybe some of them were done by him. She felt like an amateur compared to him. She had a few tattoos placed on her body, but nothing quite as big or detailed as what she saw on the board or on Zayn’s skin.

“(Y/n) is your new house mate, right?” Zayn asked Emma as she got comfortable on the chair.

“Yeah. I moved in before Christmas.”

“But.. you’ve known each other for a while, right? I can’t exactly remember.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, since we were in college together.”

“Zayn.. do you mind if I look through this?” (Y/n) asked politely as she picked up the small binder off the console table next to the chair. A few figurines of characters she recognized, an hour glass with black sand, and a plant lived on the table as well.

“Of course not, that’s why it’s there.” He gave her a chuckle, but kept his response nice.

She opened the book and started to slowly flick through the pages. She saw his signature on the bottom of the designs. They were all so perfect. Some were executed with such detail and precision that she could've sworn they were fake, others were more loose drawn in a free handed style or just more whimsical in nature. She saw a sketch of a few bees on one of the pages. They were in black and grey, mostly realistic with subtle, soft shading and delicate lines. The drawing was pretty and neat. She glanced to the corner, searching for his signature, but she didn’t find it. Instead, in the corner opposite of where Zayn favored to sign his name was a small H. She hummed to herself, curious to know why Zayn had someone else’s drawing in his book. She quickly shook the thought out and reminded herself that there three other stations in the front. They were not abandoned by any means, she could tell people worked at them based on the different things displayed and the personal trinkets and objects adnoring the areas. Maybe this was one of his college’s work or maybe it was random.

For the most part, the book was filled with things Zayn did. Some of them were his own creations while others were common tattoo designs just drawn by his own hand instead of being pulled from the internet. She liked the way he had a bunch of his own things offered in styles that were more popular. He appeared to be a well versed artist with the talent to create just about anything.

As Zayn prepped Emma’s skin for her tattoo, he was talking to her about Niall’s store. He asked how it was going and if she had heard any horror stories yet of Niall messing up payroll or forgetting to stock an item. She only laughed and said she was surprised he was staying so calm and organized. Everything about the store was going more than according to plan, as at least as much as (Y/n) could tell from what she’s heard. She was still so happy for Niall. His hobby had turned into a passion and a business and he was able to share it with others, it was like a dream come true she bet.

“Alright, are y’ready?” Zayn said with a deep breath of his own as Emma grew more and more nervous in the chair.

“I think so.”

“You’ll do fine, Em.” (Y/n) encouraged from the corner, her eyes now focused on her friend.

“Just take some deep breaths. Tell me if it’s too much.” Zayn told her as he pulled the stencil paper off her foot. The flower wasn’t that big, but there were lots of tiny details that Zayn knew would probably hurt her more than anything else she’s gotten. “Just a tattoo.”

“If I cry, you can’t tell Niall. I told him I could handle this.” Emma mumbled out with a frown as she stared at her foot.

Zayn smiled and leaned back, the gun still buzzing in his hand. “Before I start, is it in the spot you want?”

“What do you think? Is it good?” She asked him, twisting her foot to a different pose.

“It’s not my foot, love.”

She groaned and looked over towards (Y/n). “Can you check?”

(Y/n) laughed a little but nodded as she stood up. Just as she was about to step towards them, Emma called for someone else to take a peek at the design.

“Harry? Are you still in there?” Her voice echoed through the room, she hoped that it spilled into the lobby so he could hear her. After a few seconds, she grunted and pulled her phone out to shoot him a text. “I’m so nervous.”

“It looks fine to me.. but it’s your decision.” Zayn told her with a gentle sigh.

(Y/n) looked down at the placement of the tattoo, her arms behind her back with her hands locked. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

She gave Emma a hopeful smile before turning around. The door opened just as she moved her body, the stranger that wasn’t a stranger to anyone but her, walked in the room, chuckling as he saw Emma fanning her face, the heat swelling her skin with sweat and her eyes with tears - she was nervous.

“You always do this.” Zayn couldn’t resist laughing as Harry walked to them.

(Y/n) was back in her seat now, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waited for Emma to decide her fate. She could hear snickers coming from Zayn and Harry as they talked about the tattoo and Emma’s apparent hesitation that always came out when she was in Zayn’s chair.

“It’s fine, Emma.” Harry said, giving her a smile before looking to Zayn. “Make sure it hurts.”

“Harry, shut up!” Emma groaned and tried to kick at him. He laughed and took a step back. “You guys are bullies.”

“You’ll be alright, Em. It’s not like it's your first.” Zayn reminded her.

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. Go ahead, then. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome.” He said lightly before disappearing out of the door again.

(Y/n) wondered why he didn’t stay in the room with them. Was he not interesting in hearing the painful grunts Emma would sure be letting out soon or watching Zayn draw his design perfected for Emma into her skin? Maybe he was tired of being near the tattoo gun since he spent however long getting his own. She pushed the thought aside entirely the moment she heard Emma groan, curses falling form her lips but not directly towards anyone.

Zayn leaned over her foot, his fingers pulling her skin tight as he worked the needle into it. It didn’t look like it was much fun, and (Y/n) became grateful that she had no intention of ever inking anything onto her foot.

—•—

There was a freshness in the air as she looked around Niall’s music store. It smelt like freshly picked lemons, probably because he had just sprayed down the counter before she came in following behind Emma. Niall was in one of his usual band tees and a pair of jeans as he sat on a stool with a guitar resting on his thigh. He was talking with a customer, comparing the similarities of two different guitar brands. Emma found herself busy with the items on the checkout counter - dropping loose pens back into their cup and adjusting the pile of papers Niall had pushed to the side.

(Y/n) stayed curious as she looked around the store. It was very easy to get caught up in the different items, especially since she had little to no idea what some of the accessories were for. Niall provided more than just items for guitars. She didn’t try to decipher every thing on the shelves, just simply moved her eyes across the packages, curiosity settling in her instead of blurting out questions to Niall. The girls came by to bring him some lunch before they did some grocery shopping for the week. Niall was appreciative, but he was unable to entertainment right away.

Emma smiled as the customer approached the counter, the one Niall had been chatting with. She stepped aside and let Niall take over the register. He had another employee here, but he was in the back room looking for a specific thing they needed to restock on one of the shelves. (Y/n) waited near by as Niall scanned the guitar music book the customer wanted to get and told him that he’d see him when he returned for the guitar - the customer hadn’t made his decision just yet.

When it was just the three of them at the counter, a few customers were lingering around the store just browsing, Niall gave them both a warm smile before wrapping his arms around Emma for a quick hug.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll eat it when Josh gets off his break.” He said with a sigh, folding his arms and leaning them on the counter.

“The store is so nice, Niall.” (Y/n) complimented as she glanced around.

“Thanks.”

Emma walked from behind the counter to where (Y/n) was standing. She was about to ask her something about their plans for the day when her eyes fell on the few pieces of paper taped to the front edge of the counter. One was the refund policy, one was about the instrument lessons, and the other was new since the last time she was here.

“Oh, a flyer? That’s unusual.” Emma suddenly said as she pressed her finger against the pink dyed paper. “For the show?”

“The show?’’ (Y/n) asked with a drop of her brows as she read over the words printed in bold black letters.

“Yeah, Niall’s band. They play at a bar across town every couple of weeks.” Emma told her.

(Y/n) remembered as soon as she heard it. Emma had told her before, long ago when she first started dating Niall, that he was in a cover band. It wasn’t anything serious, not trying to search for record deals or gain stardom, it was just him and his friends having a good time. They got decent money for it, including tips from audiences, and it allowed them to play the instruments each member enjoyed. She wasn’t sure who was in the band as Emma never got to that detail before.

“Oh, right.” She nodded as the memory returned to her brain. “That’s cool.”

“Can’t believe Emma’s never brought you to a show.” Niall said with a somewhat surprised expression.

“I invited her a few times but she’s usually busy with work stuff.” Emma defended herself, even though there was no issue with it.

(Y/n) smiled at her and shrugged. “I remember you asking a couple times.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to attend if you’d like.” Niall offered as he pushed himself off the counter the moment the bell jingled above the entrance door.

He went to greet the customer, someone he actually was used to seeing come in the store, leaving the girls alone again.

“Yeah, it would be fun if you came! You could finally meet Alyssa. She’s usually just home with her and Zayn’s kid.. she doesn’t go out much anymore, but she loves the shows.” Emma exclaimed with a sparkle in her eye.

“I dunno.. when is it?” She asked, glancing at the flyer.

“Next Saturday night. It would be cool, (Y/n)! We haven’t went out since Halloween.”

The stress building up at work during the holidays definitely set her back from enjoying a lot of things, including several invitations from Emma to join her and Niall at a bar or go out for dinner with just the two of them. It truly felt like forever since she got to have fun with her friend. She thought about it for a moment, but only lifted her shoulder at the idea. The mention of meeting Zayn’s fiancé was intriguing since she had heard so much about her from Emma, but she doubted that would be enough to pull her out for the night.

“Maybe.. depends on how the week goes.”

Emma gave her a partial smile. “Okay. I really hope you can go with me.”

“Yeah, you should definitely come, (Y/n).” Niall said as he appeared next to them, the customer gone to look for the item they asked him about.

Once again, she let out a small sigh and faked a smile for them. “I said I’ll see how the week goes, but no promises.”

He gave her a fake, dramatic frown. “C’mon! Live a little!”

“I live a lot.. at work.”

Emma grabbed her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll convince you before the week ends.”

“M’sure you will, Em.”

After spending a few more minutes talking to Niall, and then waiting in the car as he and Emma disappeared into his office to say a private goodbye, (Y/n) was ready to get the grocery shopping over with. The store they frequented was near by, so the drive was short and easy. It wasn’t close to their shared house, but the prices were better than anywhere else. Emma offered to take her car, so that left (Y/n) in the passenger seat with her eyes glued to whatever passed by the window.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)?” Emma asked as they strolled through the fruit section in search for the items on their list.

She gulped gently, distracting herself by collecting a few apples for the cart. “M’fine, just tired.”

Emma watched as she walked towards the basket of lemons and grabbed two, she’d need them for a receipe she was going to try later in the week. (Y/n) was normally not this quiet. She enjoyed the task of grabbing their groceries and checking things off their combined list while Emma pushed the cart and double checked everything. Something about doing such a mundane thing made her feel content and comfortable, even if they decided randomly to try a new store they’d never been in. But today was different, Emma was growing concerned with her unusually quiet friend.

“If you’re irritated with me and Niall pushing you about the show.. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.” Emma said with a soft frown as (Y/n) returned to the cart with a handful of bananas.

She sat them down and lifted her hesitant gaze to meet her closest friend’s. “I’m fine, Emma. Just tired.”

She shook her head gently. “No, you’re too quiet. What’s wrong?”

“You and Niall didn’t bother me, I swear. The bar thing is.. whatever. I’ll think about it, I promise. It’s just.. one of those days.”

Emma wasn’t believing it all the way. Sure, maybe (Y/n) was being truthful about the role her and Niall played in her newfound mood, or didn’t play - but something else was up. She licked her lips and decided to stay quiet as (Y/n) busied herself with grabbing the rest of the fruits before moving onto the fresh vegetables.

Although she didn’t want to press it any further, Emma couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened at the music shop or on the way to the grocery store. Her worry was growing quickly and it wasn’t very long before she was asking another question.

“(Y/n), please tell me. Are you alright?”

She received a sigh as a response, a couple of tomatoes and a bag of baby carrots joined the cart. “Emma, please.. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong with you. I don’t want to see you so down.”

(Y/n) walked towards the next section of the store, knowing that Emma would follow her with the cart no matter if they were talking or not. She held her breath as she thought about what was bothering her. She was too caught up with her racing mind to realize she was actually expressing her emotions on the outside. Emma noticed everything, so clearly she wasn't doing well at hiding it. There was no real issue, really, nothing that anyone caused by saying or doing anything. A lump slid down her throat, Emma was her friend - there was no need to keep anything from her.

Just as they turned down the aisle where the bread was, she stopped in her tracks and turned towards the cart, her hand reaching out to stop it. Emma froze, a lift of her brows offering confidence like a good friend should.

“The guy that walked through the door right before we left.. at Niall’s store..” She started with a strong voice, but it slowly faded to almost a whisper.

Emma nodded, encouraging her to continue. She looked down to the floor as the moment replayed in her memory. It wasn’t an unusual thing for her to experience, in fact it was more common than not. One little thing, one random glance from a passerby, one glimpse of someone with a similar shade of hair as her own, one note from a list of songs she knew were special..

“He reminded me of my brother. I.. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her response made Emma’s stomach turn to knots. She knew that the conversation was over then, and there wasn’t anything else she could try that would break (Y/n). The forbidden topic had been brought up, and quickly dropped back to the vault she kept it locked away in. Emma didn’t mention it again..

[a/n: this is a series! It’s a lot longer per part than my other stuff so I hope you enjoy! This is just the intro so it will be more interesting and exciting as it goes on! reblog, like, do all that lovely stuff!!]

taglist: (notified for all // if you want to join a taglist for this series, lmk in a comment or message and I’ll start one)

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden

[distracted-milkshake]

I know I haven't been online to some of you in some months, but I cannot possibly stress how important this is. 

A woman named Bisan, a journalist in Gaza, was in the last hospital standing in what's left of the Gaza Strip. They are being carpet bombed, bombing every inch, destroying everything. 

This isn't a joke or a movie or some hoax, this is really happening. 

She is in tears and can hardly get the words out as the sounds of bombs and guns drown her out. The people there are injured, trapped, and have nowhere to go. 

The week the 21st-28th of January, 2024, STRIKE. 

This is unforgivable and inexcusable. 

In any way you are able, don't shop, donate, march or protest, spread the stories of those trapped and have been killed, and tell people why you're striking. Even if your busy or it's hard, it's nothing compared to what's happening in Palestine. 

Don't think it's useless. 

No national news will cover this. 

You are the last resort these people have. 

This applies to everyone reading this everywhere in the world. These people are not terrorists. 

Even terrorists don't deserve this, and it would be illegal. 

Reblog and repost this to as many people as you can. Share, screenshot, email, and speak out. Don't be the generation that watched a genocide happen and did nothing. 

Again, the week the 21st-28th of January, 2024. 

Share this to your whole follower list. 

Save Gaza. 

[1d1195]

Invitation

~3.5k words

From me: I mentioned I had a kinda rough weekend. This just sort of wrote itself. Def a stand alone. Second chance at love. I wrote it mostly in the drafts page and didn't do a whole lot of editing for continuity so it's probs not very realistic nor will it make a ton of sense. But anyway.

Warnings: MC parent death; funeral, angst, angst angst. But I'm hoping if you read it you'll see some cathartic, comforting fluff.

Summary: She and Harry broke up years ago and it was completely fine. But seeing her again, even under sad circumstances has his heart pulling him closer to her.

It had been eight years since he had last laid eyes on her. But when he read the piece on her mum off a mutual friend’s Facebook page he was transported back to one of those moments he spent so totally in love with her.

The idea that her best friend was gone made him terrified for her well being. It was the reason he was in a hotel room, straightening his tie in the mirror. Double checking he didn't miss any spots while shaving. He looked simultaneously presentable yet solemn. Her mum was special, beautiful. She made Harry feel at home the entire time they dated. Bought him thoughtful gifts for his birthday and Christmas. Made sure she bought his favorite snacks and always inquired about school, work, or his favorite show. She joked with her that Harry was too good for her and she didn’t treat him well enough (which was inherently false). She was the perfect girlfriend and had the perfect mum.

He couldn’t imagine how she was feeling.

Harry didn’t want to make his appearance about his arrival at the funeral home at all. He stepped in line silently, tried not to make eye contact with anyone and slowly made his way through toward the front, pretending he was invisible. He looked at the picture boards as he walked along his favorite girl and her mother in so many of them. Both were beautiful and Harry thought she was going to look just like her mother when she was older and so he was really lucky that he would know she was beautiful for the rest of his life. But he would have predicted that anyway.

Their relationship ended amicably enough. They were changing, time moving on, and quite frankly it felt like they couldn't spend enough time together so it didn't seem fair. "Shouldn't we want t'spend time with each other, beautiful? Shouldn't we feel feel bad we're not spending time together? It shouldn't be forced. You're m'favorite person in the world, kitten. S'not fair."

He was right of course. She agreed. So they went their separate ways. Since they were still in university at the time, they saw each other frequently. Their friend groups overlapped a bit so they weren't rid of each other all that much until after graduation. There was even a picture of the pair of them together on that day--her mum's suggestion. It was apparent more so then, that they were changing and moving on but Harry was grateful for that picture. When he saw the notice of her mum's passing, he looked at it fondly and felt something in the pit of his stomach. Wanting and wishing he had made more time for her. That she wasn't so busy and their time apart hadn't lasted as long.

But that was eight years ago. Harry was thirty now. He had a few girlfriends during that time and maybe it wasn't a surprise they didn't work out. When he inquired of his friends if he should go to support her, they said it was up to him. Louis and Eleanor were out of the country so they would send flowers. Mitch and Sarah were waiting for Sarah to give birth at any moment so they too, would send flowers.

"I'll be at the funeral," Niall assured him. "I can't make the visiting hours, sorry, Harry," Harry could hear his frown as they spoke on the phone.

"S'okay, s'nice y'can make it t'any of it. She'll appreciate it."

"I hope," a frown in his voice, a sigh in his tone.

"No, she will," Harry was confident. She would never make Niall feel bad--anyone feel bad. It was just the way she was.

Harry was in front of the urn containing the ashes of her mother and he knelt and said a short prayer for her and her sweet daughter. He tried not to think about his own mother at such a sad time and how he would feel if this was her. He shook his head, blessed himself automatically, and stood to greet the receiving line. It was filled with aunts and uncles who were surprised to see him. He didn't fully understand their surprise (of course he would be there for her--even if things were different now) but moved to each one, quietly apologizing for the loss of their sister and only answering how work, life, and everything was with as few words as possible. It was just her and her mom. Dad was out of the picture before she was even born. It wasn't a bad thing because she was her mum's whole life and she never made her want for anything. "Where is she?" Harry asked quietly. Usually the children were first in the line but she wasn't there.

"Another spat with the boyfriend," her aunt rolled her eyes. "You are by far our favorite," she smiled at him encouragingly. "Don't leave till she gets back, if you can. She deserves to see someone who will make her happy right now," she winked.

Harry felt his eyebrows crawl up his forehead in surprise. He nodded. Pride bloomed inside him for being the favorite. It wasn't the time but he couldn't help it. His heart felt heavy, worried she was with someone horrible. "Yeah, sure. Of course."

So Harry stayed in the little seating area, watching people walk through the receiving line, looking at the slideshow of pictures that somehow managed to boil down to one person's life. There was even a picture or two of him. It made sense, he was in her life for nearly four years and they were inseparable until they weren't.

Harry smiled fondly at the memories within the pictures and wondered where she could be right now. He had seen the full slideshow twice.

"Harry, you're still here?"

He cleared his throat, stood, and shook one of her uncle's hands again. "Yeah... um... haven't seen her yet."

"She went outside with the boyfriend ages ago. I'm assuming they're still arguing or she's trying to calm herself down enough to come in and fake that everything's fine."

Harry frowned. "Maybe I'll go check then," he suggested and headed for the door.

Why was she dating someone if it was clear no one in her family liked him?

The men at the door, let Harry through and he quietly walked to the side of the building wondering where she could be having a private conversation at a funeral home. The side was dark except for a flood light that perfectly illuminated the couple. Harry stepped out of sight but strained to listen.

"What do you mean, 'you have to go'? You're seriously joking right?"

Harry didn't know her voice could take on a tone that sounded so angry like that. They never fought that way. No more than who's pizza topping was better or if they had to pick which dinner place to go to on a busy Saturday night.

"Babe, you know with my work--"

"This is my mother," she croaked. It felt like a bullet through Harry's chest to hear her choked up like that. All that grief wrapping in her throat and pulling on her vocal cords.

"I know, but don't you think she would want me to continue living my life and doing what I need to do so--"

"She's my best friend," her voice cracked because she was crying so hard. Harry wanted to run over, unceremoniously knock him to the ground, and comfort her. "You're supposed to be here to support me!"

"Well you know death kind of freaks me out, babe. I'm trying to support our future. I've been here all day."

Her tone was so biting, he truly couldn't believe it. "You've been here for an hour."

Harry winced and shook his head. No one liked death. Everyone was freaked out by it to some degree. But he was supposed to love her; be there for her.

"If you leave, we're done," Harry felt intrusive for listening in but he couldn't move.

"You don't mean that."

"I do, mean that. I really, really, really, really mean that," she sniffed. Good girl. Harry thought. "I have put up with your bullshit like this for way too long and you're unsupportive and if you leave this is it," she assured him. "Work cannot be more important than me."

"It's important for us, babe. So when we get married--"

"And when will that be?" She shouted.

"For the love of God, we're going to do this now?"

"It's been three years. I'm thirty and wanted kids and you are just..." she trailed off. "Fine. Go. We're done anyway."

"Babe, you don't mean that--"

"I will pack my stuff up when I get home."

"And where are you going to go? You don't have a job right now--"

"BECAUSE I WAS TAKING CARE OF MY DYING MOTHER."

Why was she even with this guy? Harry couldn't fathom it. It was so unlike her to date someone so crass and careless. Or maybe Harry was just filled with rage and envy of a man that couldn't help her the way she deserved.

"Well..." he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I have a plane to catch. Maybe after you've calmed down and aren't grieving we can have a more pleasant conversation."

A silent moment passed between them. Surely he heard it as he said it. It couldn't have been just her and Harry that heard what he implied. "Do... do you... do you think I'm supposed to be done grieving?" She hissed.

He sighed, mumbled something about calling her when he landed, and walked away. He didn't even notice Harry pressed to the building.

Harry watched him get in his car and pull away as if this wasn't the worst day of her life. Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself. This wasn't about him or how he wanted to strangle him. This was about her, her grief.

She was leaning against the wall. She was heaving, sobbing into one hand. For what, at that point, Harry didn't know. He could only see her from behind, the same figure he could have picked out in a lineup and if he was blind. But she seemed smaller. Withdrawn of course. Her free arm wrapped around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together.

"Hey beautiful," he murmured softly. She sniveled, spun around. Harry was met with her face grief stricken, heartbroken, and tear soaked. But yeah, she was still as beautiful as he remembered. "Aw, kitten," he cooed gently. "C'mon s'cold outside. Let's get you--"

She threw herself against him as he approached. Her arms around his neck and she continued her sobbing against his shoulder. Sighing, he wrapped his arms wrapped around her waist and back, she fit effortlessly into his embrace even after eight or so years since he last saw her. It felt natural to hold her like this. "I know," he murmured comfortingly. "I know, kitten," he kissed the side of her head, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down her spine.

"Please don't let go of me," she cried. "I can't--"

"Shh," he hushed. "M'here. M'not letting go until you do," he promised softly. He hoped she wouldn't pull away because he wanted to take care of her the way that asshole couldn't. It didn't matter what the past was it only mattered that her sweet self could find some sort of contentment.

"Please don't leave me," she begged. "I can't do this alone."

It felt like a switch changed in him. Or maybe it was the anger he felt for her ex-boyfriend. Or perhaps a combination of missing her when he didn't really know he had been missing her and all the frustration he felt for the reasons she was so distraught. He would do anything for her. "No way, beautiful. M'not going anywhere," he assured her pressing his lips instinctively to the top of her hair. Patiently he listened to her cries, held her tightly, and lightly brought a hand to the side of her neck. He carefully pressed his fingertips against her skin, hoping that if she was aching (which he assumed every part of her was) it relieved the smallest bit of tension.

"How much did you hear?" She sniveled pulling away enough to glance into his eyes. Her face was blotchy and red, she was sure. Harry looked like he just left his modeling job for ties and cologne. She wanted to look more beautiful--so it would have at least made sense that Harry had ever decided to date her--even if it was years ago. But she was so overwhelmed with sadness, she couldn't feel anything but that and not even her horrendous look could deter her long enough to utter more than a quick apology for snotting all over him. "M'sorry. I look--"

"Shh," he hushed immediately. Harry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket--Mum was always insistent he have one when he wore a suit. Someone is always crying when you need to wear a suit and it's not to work. Carefully, he dabbed under her eyes, and swiped the fabric across her delicate cheeks. "You look beautiful," he assured her a kind, small smile made his lips curl up just enough to get the dimple in his cheek to appear. The one she had told him she was going to stick her tongue in back when they laid on a mattress that was too small for two people and resulted in a giggling tickle fight between two people who were much too old for tickle fights.

What he would have given to make her laugh now.

Harry kept one arm around her waist taking over her own job to hold herself together. "How much did you hear?" She repeated.

He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Too much, probably."

She frowned; if she could muster an emotion other than sadness and grief, she probably would have been embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry. I was waiting inside, but then your uncle said y'were out here and I wanted t'see you and--"

"Do you need to leave?" She asked quickly. "I'm sorry I'm holding--"

"Kitten," he said gently pinching her chin between his fingers so she had no choice but to look in his eyes and process what he was saying. "M'staying here until y'tell me t'leave."

She sighed. For the first time in what felt like months she felt relief. "Okay."

*

She dragged him alongside her to the front of the receiving line. Harry felt slightly embarrassed and out of place but the rest of her family paid no attention to it. Like he was supposed to be there. She hugged and cried a lot over the next two hours. Harry handed her tissues and water.

“What if I don’t tell you to leave?” She whispered. Harry was standing so close to her that no one else could hear. Like it was just the two of them. She was sipping from a water bottle and Harry was stroking her hair back with his fingers while wiping below her eyes with a tissue.

“Then I’ll never go," his voice was quiet, like hers. He kissed her forehead softly.

"You don't have to obviously, you have no obligation... but is there any chance you were planning to be here tomorrow?" She asked.

He nodded hurriedly. "Course, kitten," he smiled gently, almost sad that she thought he wouldn't. "Niall's going t'come too. He's really sorry he couldn't make it tonight," he explained. "I have a hotel room right nearby so I can stay s'long as y'need me. Do anything y'need, too. And Niall m'sure would be happy t'help if y'need anything requiring two people, as well."

"Really?" A fresh well of tears filled her eyes and Harry's grin grew even if it was sad she was so surprised.

"Of course, beautiful. We... we want t'be here for you," he assured her.

She pressed her face against his shoulder again and sniveled against him. "I owe you a new suit," she mumbled into the fabric.

"Shh..." he hushed. "M'here," he promised. "Don't worry 'bout anything else."

*

His hotel room was dark when they entered. Harry didn’t want anything to happen that could be misconstrued due to her grief but she seemed adamant and sure that she wanted to spend the night. Harry was planning to sleep on the floor but instead they chatted way too much. Much later than a girl who had her mum’s funeral the following morning should have chatted. She giggled the way Harry loved and smiled despite how sad she was. Harry told her all about the last eight years, his job, his mum, their old friends and everything in between.

When he looked at the clock, his phone said it was well past one in the morning and she needed to be up early. “Think y’need t’sleep, kitten,” he was lying beside her, fully clothed except he lost the tie. He was brushing her hair away from her face watching her eyes droop.

“Mom didn’t like him,” she whispered. “She didn’t like anyone that wasn’t you,” she told him.

Harry swallowed nervously. Not because he was worried about her sentiment but because her grief was fresh and the tire tracks of where her stupid ex peeled out of the parking lot were still warm. Her mind had to be jumbled and as much as he wanted to kiss her and make promises, it wasn’t the time. Harry was older and more mature now. The way he wasn’t but wished he had been when they broke up. “After that performance, beautiful,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “M’surprised she didn’t poison him.”

“He didn’t even like her oatmeal raisin and white chocolate chip cookies,” she grumbled bitterly.

“Kitten,” he tutted. “How could you let that continue?” He joked, nudging her playfully.

She turned on her side, their faces inches apart on the same pillow. “Thank you for being here for me,” she whispered.

“There’s no where else I want t’be, beautiful,” he promised.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed you. It’s sad this is what it took.”

He leaned forward, pressed his lips to her forehead and let the kiss linger there. “Do y’want me t’sleep on the floor?”

“No,” she shook her head. “This is the first night I’ve felt tired in months. You have to stay here if you want me to sleep through the night.”

“If you’re sure,” he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off. He didn’t want to change into different clothes or anything. He just wanted to be there for her.

“This is also your hotel room that I invited myself into," she reminded him.

He grinned at her in the dark. “You’ve always had an open invitation, t’me, kitten,” he brought her closer toward him, kissing the top of her head.

There would be about a thousand and one things to discuss after the funeral. But right then it was late, and they needed to sleep because the day was going to bring more exhaustion and sadness that was inevitable. “Did you mean it?” She whispered quietly after Harry thought she had fallen asleep.

“Mean what, beautiful?” He murmured.

“You’ll never go?”

He nodded. “Mmm,” he hummed inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “I meant it,” his words were slurred with sleep and she knew it because she had heard it in his voice hundreds of times in their time together. He was on the brink of dreaming and her mind was reeling.

“Mom wanted us to get back together,” she whispered. “For ages. She had our graduation picture on the fridge,” she explained. “When I was taking care of her these last few months and he was useless, she kept mentioning you. Told me it wasn’t too late to start over. I guess... I guess this was one way she thought she could bring us back together.”

There was no response because Harry had fallen asleep, and she was close behind. She brought the hand that held his to her lips and kissed his fingers inhaling the comforting smell of him as she finally felt like sleep.

“Your mum was the best,” he mumbled. “She brought you into this world, just for me t’find you.”

The words were lost in her mind, her throat, and her aching heart. But she liked to believe that Harry knew already because he was there, and he wasn’t planning on leaving again.

“We can start over, beautiful. M’not going anywhere,” he whispered one more time as sleep overtook her tired mind.

--

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[ohmoonbeam]

Oh my god, I can’t function. No, I’m gone

How about DI Harry with a breeding kink 👀

Daddy issues- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

extra / alternatively, read on wattpad

Harry has a breeding kink (word count: 2.3k)

Harry was acting… strange.

You thought it was because his friends’ newborn baby had been quite fussy while you were out for lunch, and maybe it’d irritated him. He’d wanted you to meet them and so you arranged to meet at this quaint little café, sitting out at the terrace, but his poor friends had to take turns trying to pacify the baby the whole time, even left briefly taking turns walking around with him for a while only to have him start crying the minute they put him back down in his pram.

At one point, they’d even joked saying maybe you should try holding him just to try out your luck, and although you’d been reluctant to do so, having had no experience with babies ever since your brother, what with your significant age gap, when you took the baby in your arms it stopped crying for some inexplicable reason.

Harry even helped you hold him properly, positioned the baby so that you were supporting his head while you held him to your chest and then he just… went silent for the rest of the lunch date.

You hadn’t even really noticed it, because now that the baby was content napping in your arms, and his parents could finally grab a bite to eat and talk to Harry (or at Harry, considering his silence), you couldn’t find it in yourself to try and put him back in the pram. And if you were being honest, it felt quite nice. He was warm and chubby and he smelled like newborn baby, and as long as he didn’t drool or, worse, throw up on you, you found you quite enjoyed holding him.

At one point he eventually opened his eyes and you thought he was going to start crying again but you just smiled at him and he seemed to like it. He reached out for a strand of your hair and you gently unclasped his little fist from it, because you knew he’d eventually start yanking it, you’d seen him doing it to his mother, but as soon as he let go of your hair he grabbed onto your index finger and you were surprised at the force he had when he squeezed it.

He eventually lost interest in that too, and his eyes landed on something much more appealing to him. He let go of your finger, and you were thankful for it- it was already tingling, the blood flow slowly recovering- but then when you felt his clammy little hand yank at your cleavage you gasped as he pulled it down far enough to expose your lacey bra.

His mom immediately ran to your aid, and everyone made light of the situation joking that he’d seen your cleavage and remembered it was supper time- everyone but Harry, that is, who just sat and looked at you funny.

So now, after the car ride that had been unusually quiet, you flinched when you heard him shut the front door with a loud thud, having used more force than necessary. You didn’t get to turn around before he bent to your ear from behind you, his voice low “I want you to go to the bedroom and wait for daddy like a good girl, ok, baby?”

You nodded, not daring to turn around, you knew better than to do anything else other than what he’d told you to whenever he was in this mood.

You rushed to the bedroom, stopped by the ensuite real quick to freshen up a bit, then stripped down to your lingerie since he always wanted to be the one to take it off of you. You then got under the covers and waited for him, mindful not to touch yourself under any condition. Those were the rules.

You hadn’t expected him to want to play, he’d seemed so off that you were sure he was going to tell you how lunch had been tiring what with all the baby’s crying, but as soon as you’d gotten into the car he just turned on the radio and the first words he’d spoken had been those he’d used earlier, instructing you to go wait for him in the bedroom.

You always loved it when he got more dominant than usual, and judging by the tone in his voice he was definitely in a mood.

By the time he reached the bedroom, he’d already unbuttoned his shirt and he took it off while approaching the bed, his hands going for his belt next.

“Is my baby all comfy?” his words were sweet but the sharp edge to his voice was anything but

You nodded, bracing yourself on your elbows and watching him get fully naked. He was so hard, it almost looked painful.

“What did I tell you about using your words?”

Your eyes widened, his deep harsh voice snapping you out of your reverie “Sorry, daddy! I got lost for a moment there… looking at you… you’re so hot” you squirmed under the blanket

He grabbed the duvet and yanked it off you in one swift motion, earning a squeal. The smirk on his face made you relax a bit, but you were still on edge, you always were when he was like this

He straddled you, his thighs on either side of your torso, holding you in place. His cock was right there, proud and leaking in front of you. You could’t help but whimper needily

“What’s the matter, baby? See something you like?”

“Please, daddy, can I touch you?”

“No. No, today daddy wants to bury himself deep inside of that tight little cunt of yours. Wanna make it last, so no, you don’t get to touch me. All you gotta do is be a good little slut for daddy and let me do what I please with you, hm? My little pillow princess. How’s that sound?”

“I”ll have you any way you want, daddy. Love your cock”

“Gonna play with you a bit first. I love every bit of you. Look at those perfect tits. Take’em out for me, will you, baby?”

You made quick work of your bra and threw it to the side, then Harry grabbed you from under your arms and maneuvered you so that you were straddling him now in turn “I love it when you dangle them over my face like this, wanna suck at them all day long and never get tired. Want you to smother me with them. Fucking perfect” he groaned licking at your breasts holding them together in front of him and kneading them in his hands as he sucked on each nipple at a time. You tried your best to keep your balance over him but eventually you had to hold onto the headboard as he feasted on you. It felt so good that it made your knees buckle, but for once you cursed how tall he was because you were sitting over his butterfly tattoo, and instead, you wished you could grind over his cock while he was doing that.

“Love how your nipples get all swollen after I play with them” he pulled back a bit and just stared at them while he ran his thumbs over the buds. He then cleared his throat and glanced at you before staring back at your breasts adoringly “Can I tell you something?”

It wasn’t usual for him to turn all vulnerable while you played around, so you stiffened a bit, wondering what was prompting his change in demeanor “Of course”

“I just… can’t get it out of my mind, the way the baby tugged at your shirt. How perfect you looked holding him to your chest like that. Couldn’t help but imagine you nursing your own baby. Your breasts overflowing with milk… Is that weird?”

“Why would it be weird? It’s natural for men to get turned on by the prospect of a woman being fertile”

“And you’re definitely fertile” he glanced up at you again, his eyes hooded and his pupils visibly enlarged. He was really getting worked up over this “Don’t freak out. It’s just… hypothetical”

“I’m not freaking out” you were quick to reassure him. Besides, you weren’t hating the idea. Hypothetically. You bit your lower lip “Can I tell you something, too?”

He was quick to nod, the lust in his eyes was making it difficult to concentrate. He was still playing with your breasts, caressing them and tugging at your nipples from time to time and you couldn’t help but grind against his butterfly tattoo, desperate for some friction but you tried to word what you were about to say in a way that wouldn’t freak him out “Sometimes… when you cum deep inside of me, and you keep pumping it back inside of me… and then fuck me all over again…” he groaned while you were talking and you almost forgot what you were about to say, but you blinked rapidly, trying to gather your thoughts “I… I sometimes wish you would knock me up, make it catch. Mark me as yours…”

“Fuck, Y/N!” he almost cut you off

“Don’t freak out!”

“I’m not freaking out” he grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you close to his face as he scooted upwards meeting you half way “You think I don’t think about that? Fuck! I think about it all the fucking time” he lounged for your mouth then, his tongue already searching for yours before your lips could even touch properly. You moaned into his mouth and he rolled you over, hovering over you “Do you really think about it, too?”

You bit your lower lip again, you could barely feel the sting after how ardently he’d kissed you “Yeah, I do. I’ve no plans to get off the pill anytime soon, so I know it’s not actually going to happen, but a part of me just… pushes aside all logic in the heat of the moment and wishes you’d…”

“Make you mine. In every sense of the word”

Your breath hitched “Fuck, Harry. Why does that sound so hot?”

He groaned “You’re fucking perfect, you know that? I’ve been meaning to tell you about how I fantasize about putting a baby in you for the longest time, but I didn’t want to freak you out”

“You’re not” you reassured him again “Because I know exactly what makes you feel like that. It’s primal. And it’s so hot, daddy” you reached to kiss him again and finally, finally he ground himself against your center making you writhe underneath him

He yanked your panties off of you and wasted no time sinking his middle and ring fingers inside of you, meeting no resistance. You were so worked up you were absolutely dripping for him.

“Look at you. So fucking perfect. Something about you… fuck me, I don’t know. You’re just so fucking breedable. Makes me want to fill you up again and again. Makes me fantasize about your hips widening and your breasts leaking, all because of me”

“Fuck, daddy! Fuck me, or else I swear I’m gonna cry. It’s too much. Please”

“Shhh, don’t cry baby, daddy’s gonna fuck you good. You need it, don’t you? Deep in your bones, you can’t deny it, your body is calling out to me. I could smell you a mile away, would recognize that perfect weeping little pussy from a thousand. It’s like you’re fucking made for me. Never felt like this about anyone else. Never been hard all day long around a woman like a fucking teenager desperate to cum like this, desperate to fill you up and make it stick”

“Daddy!” you almost screamed when he finally removed his fingers that have been pumping into you all this time and used his cock instead, with no preamble. You clawed onto him, it was like you couldn’t get close enough “Oh my God, I’m gonna come so hard for you! I’m already so close. Oh, fuck!”

He pressed his palm over your lower belly “Feel me here? Feel how deep I am?”

You nodded frantically “So deep. Fuck, you’re so big. I don’t know how you make it fit”

“You’re taking it so well for daddy” he cooed and then brought that same middle finger he’d used to your lips and you immediately sucked onto it, making his eyes roll back “It’s ‘cause your precious little pussy is desperate for my cum. Your body is just begging me to knock you up. Begging me to claim you. It speaks to me in ways I can’t explain, but I understand. And you understand too, don’t you baby? My perfect girl, my best girl”

You gasped as he increased speed, dropping his finger out of your mouth “Oh God, ohgodohgodohgod—”

“There she is, my sweet girl, God I love it when you come, you’re the prettiest little thing. You just love daddy’s cock that much, don’t you, baby? Come on then, come for daddy. Show me just how much, and I’ll fill you up to the brim, gonna give you all I’m worth” he delivered a quick slap over your clit then and that was what finally sent you over the edge.

Harry made good of his promise, riding out your orgasm as he chased his own release and you felt every single twitch of him inside of you, as well as heard him groan like never before, almost animalistically. It truly was primal, the need you both felt for each other. And it was so liberating to finally be on the same page with someone and be able to express your sexuality in ways you never even thought possible. Sex with Harry was never just sex. It was a kind of intimacy you’d never even dreamt of before. And this had proved to you yet again that you truly were made for each other.

Daddy issues- Masterlist

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[freedomfireflies]

Ours*

Summary: The second part to Mine*

Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has arranged a phone-call with one of his most notorious enemies.

Lucky for you, you’ve got a front row seat to the show.

His cock.

Word Count: 4.1k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“How long?”

“Five minutes. At least.”

“And everybody knows the plan?”

Asher nods. “They don’t move until they have my signal.”

“Good,” Harry murmurs, glancing down at his desk, narrowed eyes finding the open file. “Sugar, are you doing okay?”

Without even looking over at you, Harry can sense the way you’ve begun to recoil into yourself. And your cheeks warm at the dominant but caring edge to his voice as you clear your throat and scoot to the edge of the couch.

“Yes,” you call. “Just…nervous for you.”

Asher smirks to himself as Harry looks up, wearing a similarly amused expression. 

“Nervous for us, huh?” Harry muses, leaning back in his seat as he crosses his arms. “What, you think we can’t handle it?”

“No. No, of course not, I just…I want you to get him,” you clarify, glancing down at your lap to avoid their entertained stares. 

“We will,” Asher tells you, rather resolutely. “Trust me, sweetheart. He’s not gonna be our problem much longer.”

Harry nods once in agreement. “Nothing to be nervous about. He’s nothing. A fucking cockroach with his head up as his own ass. We aren’t gonna let him touch you.”

“I’m not worried about me, Har,” you sigh as you stand from the sofa. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. To any of you.”

He eyes you for a moment, seemingly lost in thought before motioning you closer.

Eagerly, you make your way over as Asher side steps out of the way to make room, and once you’re close enough, Harry quickly guides you toward his desk and sits you down on top.

“You don’t have to worry about me, mama,” he murmurs as he stands and makes a home between your thighs. “M’not ever gonna leave you. That’s why I’m staying here. So I can make sure you’re safe.”

You smile as he takes hold of your face between his large palms. “I always worry about you, Har. Whether you’re in here with me or out there with them. I just…I want you to be okay.”

“I am okay,” he says calmly, dipping down to press his lips to your top one. “Right here. With you.”

Asher clears his throat.

Harry’s eyes roll. “And Asher, too.”

Grinning, you glance over your shoulder at Harry’s right-hand man, who nods his approval.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he agrees. “Sean’s not gonna lay a fucking finger on you. Either of you. I promise.”

You smile your gratefulness before glancing back at your boyfriend, whose lips are pursed.

And you know why. While he understands the sentiment, he hates promises. 

This has been an ongoing argument throughout your entire relationship. 

He thinks promises are bullshit—nothing but wishful thinking and empty declarations. Nobody can guarantee anything. Especially in this line of work. You can’t possibly swear to make sure something happens when the entire world is working against you. 

But you think promises are the only real thing to hold onto you. A trust and a deal created based on faith and understanding. No, you will never be a hundred percent certain. But you’ll try. And sometimes…giving someone your word can make all the difference.

Asher knows Harry’s aversions to the phrase, having been reprimanded for it before. But you know he’s chosen to say it now because not only does he mean it…he knows you need to hear it.

So, Harry allows Asher to make you this guarantee. Because whether or not he believes in the idea…he chooses to believe in Asher. And in his ability to keep you safe.

“So…what do you need me to do?” you ask, fingers curling around Harry’s wrists to make sure he keeps holding onto you. 

“Stay right here,” he declares. “And give me something pretty to look at.”

Your face warms at the compliment, although you know he’s not kidding. “Ha, ha.”

He merely grins as he leans in for another kiss. This one much longer and much…heavier.

Whether or not he admits it…he’s nervous. He wants to know you’re safe more than he wants air in his lungs. Wants to be able to tell you that you’re safe and mean it. 

Deep down, he wants to promise you that nobody will ever get to you.

Finding Sean is simply the first step in that direction.

And if they don’t—

The phone rings.

You jolt in place from the sudden and shrill sound while Harry leans back and meets Asher’s eye.

Asher nods, finger coming up to tap his earpiece as he mutters, “Standby.”

Your heart begins to hammer inside your chest as you look between them and get ready to slip off Harry’s desk so you can return to the sofa.

But before you can, his large arm is outstretching across your body, blocking your path while his other hand moves to retrieve the phone.

Your mouth opens, ready to ask what he’s doing, but are unable to slip the question in before he brings the headset to his ear.

In a clipped voice, he sneers, “What?”

You watch his expression as he listens to the response, secretly wishing you could hear but knowing it’s probably better you can’t.

“Figured you’d find your way back to me eventually,” Harry replies, rather condescendingly. “But I’ll admit…I am a little disappointed I won’t get to put you on your fucking knees and make you beg.” 

Another beat as Harry awaits Sean’s response.

And whatever it is, it makes his brows weave a bit closer together as his teeth start to grit. The muscles in his already strong, tan arms begin to flex beneath his black t-shirt as he grabs onto your thigh and squeezes.

And at this point in your relationship, a firm touch like this doesn’t startle you, so you merely place your hand over his and do your best to offer some comfort.

He doesn’t show any signs of acknowledgment, but you know he appreciates it as he looks over at Asher.

Asher in turn takes a moment to listen to the response from his team before nodding his chin toward Harry, finger rolling through the air as an instruction to keep the conversation going.

“I’d watch your fucking tone,” Harry seethes, leaning forward as his mouth presses into the receiver. “There is no goddamn corner of the Earth that I couldn’t find you. And when you try to weasel your way out of our fucking deal…try to undercut me, and take what isn’t yours…the price on your fucking head goes up.”

You catch Asher mouth something to Harry as a silent conversation is had through tense glances.

With that, Harry presses a button on the base, slams the phone back into the switchhook, and instantly, the speakers come alive with the sounds of shouting.

Curious, your head tilts as you look over at your boyfriend, quietly questioning his intentions.

He simply throws you a smirk and takes hold of your hips right as the ringing of a gunshot echoes through.

And then, it happens again. And again. And again.

You feel the blood drain from your cheeks as you begin to piece together the truth. 

You’re listening to Harry’s team taking Sean hostage.

There’s yelling, and cursing, and more gunshots, and pleas for mercy. You imagine they’re taking out Sean’s own men first before moving for him, and the thought makes your head spin.

However, Harry smiles through it all, cupping your cheek in his palm before leaning in to kiss you. 

You go still in his touch, unsure how to devote your attention to him when so much death and destruction is happening a few feet away.

But Harry doesn’t mind. He kisses you anyway. Takes control of you the way he’s so keen to do. He pries your lips apart and slips his tongue against yours. He moves his touch to the back of your neck to go a bit deeper and fully own you. And he grins sadistically through every second of it.

There’s some faint mumbling from the other side of the phone that you don’t hear or understand. But you do vaguely see Asher press his finger back into his earpiece as he nods at whatever is being said before turning to his boss.

“Ready,” he says as Harry hums and brushes his nose against yours.

“You still with me Sean?” Harry calls, and you swallow as you await Sean’s response.

It takes a moment for it to come, the rustling of violence slowing to a stop as a shuddering breath is heard.

“Fuck you.” The response is seethed through the speaker as Harry once again smiles to himself and rolls his head to the left so he can kiss the other side of your mouth.

“Easy,” he warns the convicted felon. “There are ladies present.”

Asher’s expression is smug and while you feel rather uncomfortable bearing witness to this side of Harry’s job, you can’t help but feel a little…thrilled.

You’ve always loved seeing him like this, although it is rare. Since he’s determined to keep you hidden away from his demons. 

But now, getting to see this kind of rage, this kind of power…you’re rather smitten.

A long stretch of silence follows Harry’s response, and he uses this time to begin trailing his free hand along your outer thigh.

His fingers dance across the fabric of your skirt before innocently slipping beneath to help guide your leg a bit further over, creating more space. 

You quickly grasp onto the edge of his desk to brace yourself as you stare at him, eyebrows flying up your forehead.

However, he simply sweeps his hand from your neck to your jaw, thumb brushing down your bottom lip.

“Do you know why…I’ve devoted so much time…so much money…to making sure that the men I do business with…are capable of doing it right?” Harry asks of Sean, his eyes on your mouth, touch once again traveling up your inner thigh as his intentions become clear. “Do you know why…it’s so easy for me…to find you? Put you on your fucking knees with a barrel to your head?”

There’s no answer from Sean. You didn’t imagine there would be. Harry merely wants an audience as he does what he does best.

Shows off.

“Because you…are fucking weak,” Harry continues in a near growl as he moves his lips to your neck and his fingers to your already damp panties. “Sloppy. Pathetic. Unable to follow a simple command.”

You swallow a whine as he slips beneath the band and finds your clit. He grazes it for only a moment before moving lower to find the pooling arousal being kept from him. 

“You underestimated me,” he murmurs, kissing just below your ear. “Underestimated what I’d do…to keep her safe.”

There’s another loud thud from the phone as Harry grins and eases a finger inside your aching hole.

“So…here’s what’s gonna happen,” he decides, waiting until you’ve actually begun to enjoy the feeling of his hand before taking it away from you altogether…and stepping back.

You just about crumble, whimpering to yourself as your nails scratch down the wooden table, and you watch him with a heavy lust.

But Harry doesn’t notice, instead nodding at his partner. “Hold her open,” he calls softly to the right-hand man, who obediently moves for you.

A tad curious, and endlessly intrigued, you look between them as Harry begins to roll up the sleeves of his nice dress shirt, stopping near the elbows, while Asher makes a home behind you.

His hands find your hips and he yanks you across the desk until your back meets his chest. Then, he leans forward so he can take hold of your legs and spread them as far as they’ll go, your muscles burning from such a stretch.

And Harry watches with a hunger you don’t think you’ve ever seen. You wonder if this has always been a secret kink of his, and truthfully…you wouldn’t be surprised.

He knows that Asher is probably scared shitless right now, terrified that if he makes one wrong move…it’s his head, next.

You imagine that’s what has Harry so awestruck. Knowing that the two most important people in his life have submitted to him. That they’ll do anything he asks. That in this instance…he has the power. The control. You’ll do whatever he tells you.

It’s probably why you’re so enamored, too. Because you know you’re safe. Every other day of your life, your safety can be called into question but now…with both of these men, you have never been more protected.

You’ll happily give them your pleasure, your body, your orgasms. Any fucking day of the week.

“I…am gonna fuck my girl,” Harry continues, once more speaking to Sean as he eyes your cunt and begins to kneel in front of you. “And lucky for you…I’m gonna let you listen.”

Your heart is in your throat with this admission, skin warming as he reaches for your underwear and easily snaps it from your hips. 

“And the second she comes…I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he finishes resolutely before surging forward and licking his tongue up your pussy.

You gasp so hard, you jolt against Asher’s chest, forcing his hands to tighten around your thighs as Harry begins. 

Your eyes just about roll back as soft, practiced licks are had across your cunt, teeth nipping at you with fervor. It’s…ecstasy. 

Sure, he’s eaten you out before. And he’s always been quite exceptional at it, too.

But never like this. Never under these conditions. Not with Asher in the room. Touching you. Holding you open. Holding you down. Keeping you still for his boss—your boyfriend—as a dangerous criminal is forced to listen over the phone.

“Oh, come on, sugar,” you hear Harry tut from between your thighs, and you look down as he glances up at you through his long lashes. “You know better than to be quiet, don’t you?”

He presses his tongue flat against you before you can respond, almost as if to ensure he’ll get the reaction he’s so desperately looking for.

And it works. You whimper as you nod, allowing the sounds to flow from you freely as you slouch in Asher’s hold.

“There you go,” Asher seems to chuckle in your ear. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And you know he does. He’s now the only thing holding you up, keeping you from melting through the desk and onto the floor. 

Harry is quick with his work. Usually, he likes to drag this particular activity out. Work you up, leaving you hanging and desperate.

But today, he wants your orgasm. Wants that permission to kill the man he’s been hunting for weeks.

So, as the sounds of muffled grunts and pained groans continue to slip from the speaker, Harry adds two fingers into play. 

The moan you make is so loud, you can hear the echo of it through the phone. You writhe between the two men, head falling back against Asher’s shoulder as Harry’s grip in your knee tightens.

Harry knows you’re sensitive. Knows he hasn’t been able to give you the kind of care and attention you deserve. In fact, he’s had you do it yourself more times this week than he has your entire relationship.

And your own hand is fine, but it’s not him. It’s not his technique or his tongue or just…him. 

He’s the only one you want. He could be shit at it, and you think you’d still come just because he was the one doing it.

The closer you get, the more your legs shake. The more adamant Harry’s curling becomes. Until he’s stroking that one spot with so much determination that you begin to slip. 

And when he feels you slipping…he stops.

Of course, he stops.

After all, he promised Sean a good fucking.

And that’s exactly what he plans to deliver.

Harry straightens back up as you dejectedly slump into Asher, your eyelids growing heavy with longing.

He rips his belt off, the clanging of the metal sending goosebumps along your arms before he undoes the zipper. 

“Of all the fucking shit…you’ve taken from me,” Harry once again calls to Sean, a razor-like sharpness to his tone, “keeping me from my girl…has got to be your worst mistake yet.”

He takes out his cock, and the sight has you drooling. Saliva instantly filling your mouth as you eagerly watch him stroke it a few times before returning to you.

His other hand finds your cunt, fingers dragging up and down and through everything that’s collected. And the brief contact makes your hips buck up as Asher tsks in your ear and forces you back down.

Then, Harry’s touch is retreating and returning to his swollen tip as he drags your arousal down his shaft, just to watch it glisten with you.

You mewl, eyes flicking up to his as you silently plead with him to fill you. To wreck you, to ruin you, to claim you in front of everybody.

He grins.

Exactly one second manages to fit between the time that he places his hands beside Asher’s to spread you a bit further and when he’s burying himself inside your aching pussy. 

He’s not patient. Not gentle. Not kind. He knows you can fit him, knows you’ll take him, so he lets you. Lets you take him, lets himself stretch you, lets himself own you.

You groan his name as your arms fling around his neck, nails scratching down his scalp as he begins his tortuous pace. 

“Fucking missed you, mama,” Harry seethes in your ear, turning to press a lazy kiss to your cheek. “Missed this sweet, little pussy. S’always so good to me, isn’t it? Squeezes me just the way I like—”

“Please,” you whisper, rather dejectedly as the pleasure begins to consume you. Overtaking the part of your brain responsible for rational, coherent thoughts.

“So fucking tight, sugar,” Harry breathes, fingers curling around your thigh as if to steady himself. “Fucking perfect. Bet they wish they could feel you. Bet they wish they could feel how fucking wet you get for me. How fucking warm—”

He snaps forward, making you whine before he’s taking hold of your waist to drag you closer to him.

“Bet Asher would fucking love…to feel you,” Harry continues, almost condescendingly as he sneaks a sideways glance at his friend. “Bet you’d make his fucking day, mama. Bet he’s never had someone as tight as you. As fucking perfect as you and your pretty cunt. Bet he wanks off to the thought of you when I’m not around.”

You can’t see Asher’s face but from the way his touch has begun to grow heavy, you have a feeling you know exactly what he’s thinking. 

Harry’s devilish smirk returns as he presses his fingers into your clit. “Do you? Do you think about fucking my girlfriend? Think about taking her any way you want? Making her moan for you the way she moans for me?”

To accompany his comment, he shifts his thrusts up, forcing you to make that very noise as Asher exhales a shaky breath behind you.

“Know you do,” Harry tells him. “Just can’t fucking help yourself, can you?”

There’s a pause in the conversation, which you assume is meant to encourage Asher’s reply, and after about a minute…it comes.

“No,” he admits, voice thick as he readjusts his grip on your thighs. “No, I can’t.”

Harry is pleased with this, smiling to himself as he slips his hand under your shirt to find your tit and knead it in his palm. “You like watching me fuck her? Like holding her down for me while I ruin her? Like to pretend she isn't mine? But yours? Ours?”

You’d almost feel bad for Asher if you couldn’t feel how much he was enjoying this little show against your ass.

“Answer me,” Harry hisses when he’s met with no response.

“Yes,” Asher grits between clenched teeth, nails pressing crescent-shaped indents into your skin. 

Harry’s smug expression only grows as he drives his hips forward until you're keening. Then, his attention returns to you.

“Gonna come for me, mama?” he murmurs, dipping down to nose under your jaw until your head rolls back against Asher’s shoulder. “Yeah? Gonna let Sean hear your pretty little cries before I kill him? You gonna be the last thing he ever fucking hears?”

And really, you have no choice. Even if you wanted to be discreet, the way he’s got you held, the way his cock is claiming you from the inside out, the way his fingers are attacking your clit is making it impossible.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your throat as Harry squeezes and forces you upright. “No, you look at me,” he growls. “Look at me while I fuck you, do you understand?”

You attempt to nod but his grip keeps you from doing so. Instead, you simply clench around him and make another indiscernible noise.

And suddenly, everything whittles down to right now. To this moment as you watch him disappear into you over and over again. The way your body stretches to accommodate him. The way he groans at the sight. The way little droplets of sweat have begun to bead around his hairline.

He slows his thrusts some. So he can really make sure you feel him. So he can push past your muscles and drag himself through. So he can hit the spot you need until you go dizzy. Until you’re blubbering, “Please, please, please, Daddy,” repeatedly with each practiced drive of Harry’s hips.

The name seems to snap his last band of restraint as he growls and leaves bruises behind that will carry you through tomorrow.

And even Asher attempts to ease your neediness. His thumbs brushing back and forth on your thighs as he whispers, “Easy, sweetheart. It’s okay. Just breathe, yeah? Breathe.”

You’re thankful for the reminder. You don’t think you would have remembered otherwise. In fact, you’d almost forgotten how. You don’t remember anything right now except this feeling of tightness in your abdomen. Of euphoria building within your cunt as Harry repeatedly strikes you with white-hot licks of bliss.

“Getting close, aren’t you, sugar?” Harry mumbles, kisses moving down your neck as he flicks your clit beneath his thumb. Rubbing it in circles as you attempt to squeeze your legs closed. “Oh, I know. I know, honey. Want you to wait for me, all right? Want you to wait until I’ve filled you and then I want you to come with me, okay?”

You whimper again as his hand returns to your waist, waiting eagerly for him to finally find his end.

And you attempt to help him along, hands tangling in his hair, pussy fluttering around his cock, and soft, little whines urging him closer. 

The veins in his arms are pushing against his skin as he grips onto you. As he fights the urge to just throw you down onto the floor and split you in fucking half. 

You sort of wish he would.

But that thought is dangerous. Much too dangerous and you squirm a bit harder as you wrestle with the impending orgasm. Commanding yourself not to come until he has.

And feeling your struggle has Harry’s eyes rolling back as his rhythm begins to falter and he seethes, “That’s my fucking girl,” before releasing his load.

You bask in the feel of his warm seed filling you to the brim, vaguely aware of anything else until you hear Asher whisper, “Now, sweetheart. Go ahead.”

So…you do.

The office comes alive with near-pornographic moans and whispers of names. And in the middle of it all…gunshots.

Harry’s touch continues its assault on your clit as he rides you through your first and straight into your second. Wanting you to come to the sound of Sean and his men being eliminated one by one.

You choke on a pant as he attacks your sensitive, swollen cunt. As he forces you to find your second orgasm of the afternoon. As Asher continues to keep you spread, the warmth of his body, and the smell of his cologne overwhelming each of your senses.

It’s too much, too good. You feel powerless under the weight of this one moment. Of Harry, and Asher, and their promise to put you first. Keep you safe. Make it worth it.

The second one hits you so hard, it feels like a slap across the face, and Asher releases his hold on you so you can collapse into Harry’s chest and bury your face in his neck.

And Harry is more than happy to have you in his arms once again, caging you to his body as he murmurs his praises and gently slows his pace.

He kisses the top of your head, runs his fingers down your spine, and tells you how proud he is.

And as he does, Asher reaches for the phone, lifts it up, and slams it down to end the call. 

"Did so good for us, didn't you?" Harry says as you sigh with contentment and melt into his touch. "Didn't she?"

Asher hums. "So fucking good, sweetheart."

You revel in their voices. In their assurances. In the way they still sound like they're far from through with you.

And in the way you feel so safe.

Protected.

Now…it’s just the three of you.

And truthfully…

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Next Part:

~ Yours* (Pt. 3)

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~ Mine* (Pt. 1)

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