#harry styles smuts

[forgodsgoddamnsake]

Masterlist

Just wanted to save your time, mwah.

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The Belly Dancer series (On Going)

* Is for smut

Prologue

One

Two

Three kinda *

Four *

Five *

Six *

Seven *

Eight *

Nine *

Ten *

Eleven *

Twelve *

HELL'S ANGELS series (On Going)

1st

2nd

[colmiillo]

Seriously, you again, reading a fic about a person who doesn't even know you exist,OR WORST,doesn't even exist........same thing sis. Keep reading

[gurugirl]

DILF | older!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Y/n meets an older man at a bar and she's not taking no for an answer. Harry likes her persistence.

A/N: This was requested + this! Also, please think before you judge Y/n. She is very bold and confident in this. Maybe even a little pushy but Harry likes it (even if at first he doesn't give that impression). Also he's single so this isn't cheatrry!

Word Count: 6,580

Warning: age gap, smut, alcohol consumption (light)

. .

"That one. Total dilf. He looks grumpy. Bet you can't crack him."

Y/n laughed at her friend and looked down at her red-painted nails before narrowing her gaze on the attractive older man who was seated at the corner of the bar alone. He was nursing a whisky and he did look rather sullen. Unapproachable even.

"Why him?"

"Because he's hot. And I'm curious to see if you can get him to smile at least," Warren raised her brows, "I dare you."

Y/n tilted her head and assessed him. He was nice and big, taking up a decent amount of space at the bar, broad shoulders and back hunched as he leaned his muscular forearms on the wood of the bar top. Meaty hands placed on either side of his lowball glass. Thick brown waves on top of his head with a bit of silver coming in at the temples. But the handsome features on his face really set him apart. His granite jawline gave way to stubble that stretched over his skin and shaded in the spaces around his pink lips.

If she could "crack" him she wasn't sure she'd want just a smile. He looked yummy enough to eat.

Drinking down the last of her martini she pointed at Warren and then Tara, "Fine. Give me twenty minutes and I'll have him eating from the palm of my hand."

Tara laughed, "If you say so…"

She placed her heeled feet down on the floor and brushed her hands over her dress, "Oh, I do say so. Just watch and learn, ladies."

Y/n wasn't quite that confident, but she wasn't about to say no to dare. And she could hold her own when it came to flirting. She liked getting a little attention and if she could garner this one's interest it might be fun.

She sauntered up to the bar behind the man and noticed the way his t-shirt stretched over his lats and tapered loosely down at his waist. The guy was fit. And lucky her, there was an open stool next to him.

Sliding onto the seat she waved at the bartender to order another drink. She'd need all the courage she could get, in whatever form she could get it.

Tapping her long nails on the lacquered wood she felt nerves thrumming through veins before turning toward the man finally. He hadn't seemed to take note of her yet, which honestly was unusual in most cases. Maybe she thought too highly of herself but men tended to notice her right away. She appreciated the challenge, though.

Reaching her hand into his space to greet him, she pushed down her nerves to sound steady as she spoke, "I'm Y/n."

She watched his brow furrow as he turned to look at her hand and then up at her eyes, his expression, which she expected would soften once he looked at her, was unamused. A single light overhead lit the tops of their heads as a shadow cast over the side of his face and he didn't make a move to shake her hand, "And I'm old enough to be your dad."

A surprised scoff fell from her lips as she moved her hand away from him. She wiggled in her seat and crossed her leg over her thigh toward him, gulping down the initial rejection with as much grace as she could muster, "I think you're jumping to conclusions about my intentions. But so what if you're older than me? I don't mind. We're both adults, right?"

An unimpressed grunt rumbled from his throat before he took another sip of his whisky and he looked away from her toward the TV that hung not far away from where they sat.

The bartender placed her olive martini down on the bar in front of her, "It'll be on Y/n Y/l/n. I already have an open tab."

A sip of the salty drink felt warm down her throat. So he was going to be a bit tough to crack. She turned to look at her friends who were grinning in her direction.

Straightening her back to feel more confident she tried again, "So you're not gonna tell me your name even?"

Without looking at her, he licked his lips and ticked his jaw, "Y/n, I think it's past your bedtime."

She smiled at that. He'd said her name, which meant he'd been listening, "My bedtime is whenever I say it is, not when some grouchy stranger says."

He puffed out an amused laugh through his nose, "I am a stranger. Which means you should be cautious, little girl. Your dad didn't teach you about things like that?" He turned to look down at her again, and that time she saw the soft green color of his eyes as the light hit his face just right.

But now she was really determined. She smiled brightly at him and let her eyes coast over his tattooed arm and then back up to his face, "Are you telling me you're dangerous?"

He still didn't smile as he shook his head like he was surprised by her gall, "Do your parents know what you're up to tonight?"

"I'm 24. Graduated from college, live on my own, pay my bills, have a full-time job. You seem to be awfully worried about my parents. I can take care of myself just fine."

Just then another person sat down next to the man Y/n was trying to whittle away at. He poked his elbow at him, "Who's this?"

"Don't know. Someone who's about to go back to her table with her little girlfriends."

Biting her lip she traced the rim of her martini glass with her fingertip, keeping her eyes set on the handsome tattooed one, "Not even a smile. Just one? Please?"

"Like I already said, I'm way too old for you."

The other man leaned over and reached to tap Y/n's shoulder, "Hey. Forget about Harry, here. You can bring me home with you if you're looking for a daddy tonight."

She frowned and looked him up and down to asses. He was late 40s perhaps, wearing a local band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a backward cap to make himself appear a little more youthful. "No thanks. You'd know if I was interested in you."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at her retort. She was definitely too young but he liked her spunk.

"Now, Harry…" she said his name slowly as she leaned a little closer, "I've got your name thanks to your friend. Can I have a smile?"

"Why?" He stared down at her, the caress of his gaze felt infinite and she found her skin convecting in its wake. He might be hard to crack but this one would be worth it, she determined.

She sighed and slid her finger dangerously close to his wrist as he looked down at her nail and watched her trail it near his arm, "I just hoped to see you smile is all. Too handsome to have such a sour scowl on your face."

"And you're hardly old enough to be so confident to walk up to a strange man at a bar."

She laughed and tilted her head, "You planning on doing something bad to me, Harry?"

And that. That pulled a reaction out of him that spread over his features slowly as he shook his head in disbelief, "Darlin', you wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her eyes widened slightly. Now she was definitely not giving up. Y/n wasn't one to fail and Harry might be making her work hard for it but she couldn't imagine it wouldn't be worth it in the end.

"Is that a challenge or something?" She softly scraped her nail over his tattooed wrist and Harry watched her red nail work over his skin.

His resolve was fading fast. She could tell he wasn't going to keep denying her. And why should he? If he was single, which he appeared to be, what was the harm in having a little fun with someone younger? Y/n didn't mind. And he certainly shouldn't either.

"If it were a challenge you'd know it. Lots of other guys here, Y/n. Go enjoy your night with someone closer to your own age."

She sighed in annoyance. But he hadn't moved his arm away from her and she was going to take that as a sign.

Dragging the toe of her shoe into his shin she grinned, "I don't want to enjoy my night with someone my own age. Not tonight anyway. I think you've convinced me that I need to test out this theory of yours. That you think I can't handle you. Cause I bet I can."

With his eyes piercing into hers, he took another sip of his drink. She thought she might have just convinced him to give her a smile at the very least because it looked like he was weighing his options. And if she could get him to smile she might have luck with the rest.

He tilted his chin upward for a moment, eyes aimed at the ceiling like he was calling on a higher power for strength, "Go back to your friends, Y/n. Any other man here would love to have your company."

"But you wouldn't love to have my company?"

"I mean… I'm still here," the other man raised his hand and leaned into Harry, "Honey we could have so much fun. Any man who'd turn you down is either battin' for the other team or more likely," he chuckled and pushed his shoulder into Harry's teasingly, "He can't get it up anymore."

Y/n's mouth dropped open at that and Harry turned to look at the man. She wished she could see the look on his face, "Sit the fuck back down, John. She already told you she's not interested in you."

"Yeah, and you're not interested in her so what's it matter to you? Look at her, Harry. Practically begging you. Young and bubbly… Tight—"

Harry's hand covered John's throat as he pushed him away, nearly making his stool topple over, "Get the fuck outta here. You had too much whisky tonight."

"Aww… come on Harry… I was just jokin'!"

She watched as he stood from his stool and looked down at John, "And you thought that was funny? You like making jokes about women like that?"

The man put his hands up in surrender, "I'm out. Here…" he threw a wad of cash on the bar top before he moved past Harry and then looked at Y/n, "My apologies if I offended you."

They watched as John left the bar quickly and then Harry sat back down before he waved at the bartender and signaled for the check, "Just the one whisky neat."

"You're leaving already? Night's still young, Harry."

He sucked at his teeth as he scraped his gaze over her face and down to her cleavage. She smiled when she watched the path his eyes had taken.

The bartender handed him the bill and Harry leaned over to pull his wallet from his back pocket.

She scooted closer to him, "You headed home?"

He nodded, but not necessarily in answer to her question, it was more of an appraisal kind of nod. He was still silent as he pulled cash out of his wallet.

"Thanks for that, by the way. I'm sure John's a nice guy and all but he's not really my type. And I'm sure he was wrong about you."

That got his attention. Harry flicked his gaze back to hers, "Wrong about me?"

She smiled, "The part where he said you couldn't get it up. You're not that old. I'm sure you still can. Right?"

He clenched his jaw and breathed out of his nostrils like he couldn't believe she'd asked him such a thing. He handed the bartender his cash with a nod before he stood up from his stool.

"Huh. Since you're so quiet about it maybe he was right," she goaded, pressing her lips together to flatten her smile as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Harry placed a palm down on the bar top next to her hand and leaned over her, "You're out of your depth here, Y/n."

"Now, you don't really know that do you? Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

"You're awfully pushy. Not used to hearing no, are you?"

Y/n watched as the edge of his mouth lifted in amusement and she widened her eyes and pointed, "You're almost smiling."

He shook his head and looked around the bar before pinning his gaze back to hers, "I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. But your luck has run out with me, princess."

Harry stood to his full height and Y/n decided to try one last time, "So it's true then. What he said."

He stopped and turned to look back at her, a slow burning heat behind his gaze, "Couldn't be further from the truth."

She smiled and slid off her stool to stand in front of him. His height was impressive, "Prove it."

The line of his jaw hardened, turning his cheekbones into slashes of tension. His eyes simmered as he weighed his options. Finally, a hint of a smile stretched over his mouth. A small one, but still.

"I don't need to prove anything to silly little girls."

"Good thing I'm not a silly little girl. I'm a grown woman, Harry."

Y/n knew she was pushing it. She'd never needed to throw herself at any man before. But because of that, she wasn't used to rejection either. Maybe it was a good lesson for her ego. She knew her big fault was how entitled she could act sometimes. But that was partly thanks to how she was raised. It's better to act like a man to get what you want in life, her dad told her. And so far, that had been true. Some women balked at her confidence and her bold attitude. She wasn't demure or sweet enough. And men would often refer to her as a bitch or say that she was trying too hard.

She'd work on her ego another time. But right now? She was focused on winning this battle.

"What do you want with someone like me anyway? Hm? I'm old, Y/n. What's in it for you?"

Blinking her eyes she shook her head, "You're not old, first of all. Secondly, you're really attractive. It doesn't need to go much deeper than that, does it? I just think you're handsome. And I do kind of like a challenge."

"I can see that you like a challenge. It's the only reason I haven't walked out that door yet. Kind of relentless."

She smiled, "So it's working?"

Another half-smile worked its way up his mouth as he laughed in disbelief, "Are you surprised that it is?"

His pupils coasted over her figure and then back up to her face. The warmth of his gaze singed her skin like an open flame.

"I guess I just didn't know how difficult it'd be with you."

He licked his lips, "Difficult. You have no idea. But looks like you're about to find out. Go tell your friends what's going on. Meet me out front."

Y/n watched him turn and walk away. She was shocked. For a minute she thought he wasn't going to go for it at all.

Shaking off the sudden surprise of having gotten to him she settled up with the bartender and then stopped at the table with her friends. They were just about to give her condolences for having oversold her ability but she interrupted. "He's waiting for me outside. Location is on. Don't wait up!"

Harry was leaning against a black car in the parking lot when she stepped out of the doors. The moment he saw her he pushed himself off the car and opened the passenger door for her.

It was going to be tricky to maintain the kind of confidence she'd been feigning with him up until then but there was no part of her that didn't want to find out what he could show her.

She watched as Harry sat down in the driver's seat and started up his car. He took up too much space in the seat. His big hand wrapped around the leather steering wheel while his other encased the shift stick. Even the way he drove was turning her on.

She was pleased that she'd wormed her way under his skin and that he'd given in. She'd try her best to make it worth his while. Reaching across the console she put her hand on his thigh and he glanced down quickly before setting his gaze back on the road.

Now, Harry had slept with younger women a couple of times. He generally preferred someone closer to his age because he liked the confidence and experience that came with age. Women in their 20s were often in a different stage of life and that was fine –normal even, but it just usually wasn't a match for him. Not sexually and not mentally.

But Y/n was unusually confident for being so young. Persistent. He liked it, he couldn't lie. Whether or not she really had much else going for her beyond confidence, he guessed he'd find out. Well, she was very cute too. She did have that in her favor.

And Y/n at least seemed like she knew what she wanted. It was flattering as well. Being approached by such a pretty young thing. He figured the moment he told her to go back to her friends she'd give up but she was just fiery enough that she wasn't deterred.

When she ran her nail over his wrist he knew he was screwed. She was just close enough that he could smell her perfume and then she nudged her shoe into his shin and all he could think about was that she really wanted to be shown a good time and if anyone could it was him.

Harry knew his way around a woman's body. They were all different and he liked finding all the buttons and things that made them purr. In his experience, though, the younger the woman, the less she knew her own body. He didn't know if Y/n was just talking a big game but he was about to find out.

He stayed quiet as she ran her hand down his thigh and he shifted as the car accelerated past the green light. He'd see if she'd do anything with her hand but maybe she'd just pet at him like a novelty toy. He didn't expect—

"This is okay?" She asked him, her tone sultry as she palmed at his crotch.

He licked his lips, "Have at it."

His cock fattened up nicely with not much effort on her part. Proof that he definitely could get it up. Plucking at his button she looked from his face to her fingers as she leaned further over the console to reach her hand into his open pants to help him with the awkward angle of his dick. He seemed to appreciate that as he shifted under her palm.

Rubbing over his heather grey briefs she peeled down the elastic band the slightest to get a peek. The dark shade of pink on his tip matched the muted raspberry of his lips. She slid the pad of her middle finger over the slit and he softly inhaled through his teeth.

She wouldn't be able to give him roadhead like she wanted. It was impossible with the stick shift in the way. But she could wrap her fingers around his shaft and feel him under her palm until they got wherever they were going.

"Mmm… It's so big, Harry. Knew you would be. Might be the biggest I've seen in person. Can't tell yet, though. Have to wait to see when we've got these off."

Harry pushed a laughed breath through his nose. She was a bold thing. Her assertiveness was a turn-on. He didn't like meek and shy. Not when it came to sex.

When she spit into her palm and smeared it down his length, the best she could, he parted his lips and stepped on the gas. She was already exceeding any expectations he had for her. Maybe she'd prove him wrong.

Her nail scraped the underside of him and she moaned, "Really want it in my mouth."

He gulped harshly and ticked his jaw, "Just be patient. I'll let you put it in your mouth soon enough."

"And where are we going? Your place?"

He nodded, "Just a few minutes away."

She squeezed around him and pulled upward slowly. She knew already, he was well above average and she was going to have to work to give him a proper blowy.

His house was a one story, the driveway at the front with a garage attached. He lifted his hand and pushed on a device that was clinging to his sun visor and the garage door began to open. There was a covered motorcycle along the back wall and then the garage door closed after he shut off the engine.

She moved her hand away and unbuckled herself as he got out. When she reached down to pick up her little purse she realized her panties were already wet. She grinned as she stepped out, adjusting her dress before closing the door, and then followed behind him as he led her into a dark hallway.

When he turned on the lights she took it all in. Hardwood floors led into a dining area and then a kitchen. Hung on the walls were photos of himself with two children and then more framed photos with just the kids.

"Do you have kids?"

"I do. Boy and a girl. 7 and 10."

"You're not married are you?"

He laughed, "If I were you'd have known. Wouldn't have been out in the first place if I had a wife waiting for me at home."

She nodded as he turned on the kitchen light and pulled out two glasses before filling them with water.

"Divorced?"

Handing her a glass he squinted, "Yes."

She took a sip. He was a man of few words she'd gathered. She looked around the kitchen. Wood cabinets, an outdated laminate countertop, stainless steel appliances. The space could use some updating but it was large and he had a big pantry.

Sitting the glass down on the counter she watched him closely. His pants were still unbuttoned. She eyed the space at his crotch as he placed his own glass down next to hers.

"It's not gonna suck itself."

She laughed and looked up at him. He had a genuine smile on his face that time. The first real smile she'd seen from him all night. A healthy row of clean teeth, a dimple…

"Hmm… I think you're right. Let's see what we've got…"

She moved in front of him and placed her hands on his pants to push them away but before she could inch them down he wrapped his meaty hand around the back of her neck and drew her into his chest. His mouth was warm and soft. His tongue tasted like the whisky he'd been drinking.

Letting go of his pants she held onto his biceps as he used his free hand to push her hips against his. Still nice and hard. He ran his tongue over her lips and she moaned into his mouth. He worked his warm lips down to her jaw and then he licked upward on her neck, the wet patch was cool on her skin from the air in the kitchen. He did it again and her knees almost gave out. She hadn't been licked like that before.

He kissed over her clavicle and then drew his tongue over her flesh. Her heart was thrumming quickly and she squeezed his strong arms when he rutted against her.

"You good at sucking cock, Y/n?" He pushed his nose against her jawline and the hot breath from his words scattered over the skin on her neck.

"I want to be," she spoke breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed as he mawed at her throat.

He parted from her neck and looked down at her, half-lidded gaze and spit-slicked lips, "Go on."

Instantly she dropped to her knees as her fingers worked deftly at pulling his pants down and then his underwear. She'd sucked a handful of dicks so she knew a couple of moves.

Getting her hand around his thick shaft proved to be a small challenge. To say he was thick… understatement. Long too. His tip was smooth, mushroomed with ridges along the length that she hoped she'd get to feel later on. His was the kind of cock that women dreamed of.

Looking up at him she licked her palm and used her spit to pump him slowly. Another glob over his tip for good measure. Then she pressed a kiss to the base of him, just over his sac, and screwed her eyes upward to watch his expression as she licked his balls, one side at a time. She wound her tongue all around to wet him before sucking at one side, pulling it into her mouth and he let out a ragged breath, his dark pupils spreading inky until the soft green had almost vanished.

He liked it.

She worked around the other side, sucking him in again and swirling her tongue softly underneath the tender bits. He gripped the counter behind himself.

Pulling off she straightened her back and licked upward, feeling every delicious thick ridge along his shaft until her tongue met his smooth crown. Laving every crevice of his tip, she dipped her tongue into his slit and then ran it under the frenulum before she wetted every inch of his glans.

Her mouth was watering when she parted her lips around him and flitted her gaze upward. He was watching her with a slack jaw as she took him a little deeper. He cradled the back of her head and moaned.

"Just suck the tip…."

She blinked up at him and pulled her lips just over the lip, swirling and suckling around him like he wanted.

"Fuck. Just like that." His hand at the back of her head was easy. He didn't push or pull. It was more like a pleased gesture as his fingertips flexed around her skull gently.

Y/n would have liked to have gone deeper. Wanted to show him her best work. But he seemed rather happy with what she was doing.

She bobbed a couple of times, only to slide her lips back to his tip. Her pace was slow when she began to stroke his length with a little twisting motion.

He was big. She knew she could take more but in a way, she was grateful that that was all he was asking for.

A groan fell from his chest and he bucked forward, his cock slipping down her tongue and she sucked, drawing more of him in as she moved her hands away.

"Goddamnit, you're good."

She took that as permission to go deeper. Relaxing her jaw she closed her eyes and held her breath, pushing down to her limit. She filled her throat with his cock the best she could and gurgled around his tip.

He coughed out a moan and then thumbed at her cheek, "Alright, that's good."

She pulled off of him. His heavy cock aimed right at her face when she sat back on her knees and looked up at him, "I can do better than that."

He laughed and put his hand out for her to take, helping her stand up, "I bet you can. Come on."

Harry kept her hand in his as he led her to his bedroom. It was just past the dark living space and he turned on a floor lamp on the opposite side of the room from the bed. When he turned back toward her he cupped her face and kissed her again.

She pressed her hand into his warm, hard chest and he reached around the back of her dress to pull the zipper downward, his fingers dragging down her skin as he went. His touch sent a tremor down her spine as continued kissing her wetly.

He stepped back, helping her out of her dress until it fell to the floor. His eyes raked over her body and he smoothed his hands over her hips and up to her bra-covered breasts. He stepped in closer, walking her backward toward his bed. He put his hands back on her hips and nudged her to sit before he reached down to lift her leg up by her calf, removing her heels, one at a time.

Y/n's thong was drenched. She stared at him while he placed her shoes side by side at the foot of the bed and then he placed his big palms on her thighs, pushing her legs open, "Lie back."

She let her back hit the mattress as Harry got to his knees on the floor. An arm reached under her thigh as he spread her apart and then she felt her panties being pulled at until her her wet pusslips were right in his face. He groaned and felt a hand slide up the inside of her thigh. He pressed his mouth over her mons and looked up at her before he opened his mouth wide and drew his tongue through her crease making her gasp.

"Get your bra off."

She pushed herself up slightly and worked at the clasp of her bra between moans as Harry continued licking at her pussy. When she pulled her arm through the flimsy material he lifted his head and reached around her back, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed and he sucked a nipple into his mouth.

"Oh, fuck!"

Y/n's finger and her long nails pushed into Harry's hair and scraped at his scalp as he licked and pulled at each nipple. He buried his face between her tits and let out a low sound, like he was murmuring something to her but only her breasts were allowed to hear it.

When he sunk back down he pushed at her so she'd lie back and he started in on her clit, one hand holding her panties to the side as he devoured her glistening cunt.

She kept feeling like she was going to slide off the edge of the bed but Harry's grip on her kept her still. His tongue and his lips were magic as he drew her to her end. She yanked at his hair and babbled his name on repeat as her spine bowed off the bed when she came.

Her chest was still rising and falling heavy when she felt her body being pushed upward. She popped her eyes open and watched him roll a condom over his shaft before he kneed back up onto the bed next to her. He was stark naked. His body was insane. Thick muscle and masculine everything. Tattoos scatter over his arms and chest.

Fuck, she muttered under her breath.

"Flip over, for me," his deep voice was husky as he motioned toward her to move.

She rolled to her stomach and she felt his fingers slide between the band of her panties and her hips as he pulled them down her legs.

"Ass up a little. I want to see all of you, Y/n."

She grinned and turned to look at him over her shoulder as she lifted her hips and spread her thighs. His lips were parted as he grabbed her ass and squeezed, making her cheeks spread apart. He inhaled sharply through his teeth and then dipped in, kissing her pussy from behind before licking upward over her ass.

She squealed quietly and bit her lip, still watching him behind her as he lifted, a lopsided grin on his face. He gazed at her as he fisted the base of his cock and slid the head up and down her soaked folds before he tipped his hips to push in just the tip.

"Gorgeous. Gonna look even better wrapped around cock. You like anal?"

"Never tried it."

He licked his lips and pressed his lips together as he looked at the spot where his dick was pressed against her cunt, "Figured. S'alright. Pussy's my favorite anyway."

"We could try… if you want."

He looked back into her eyes, a cocky smile on his face, "Your little hole would need to be trained. And that takes time. So, there will be no anal tonight. Not gonna try and hurt you. But that's a cute thought."

He canted his hips inward, eyes on hers and her mouth dropped open when she felt her entrance splitting open for him. She was tight, but so slick, it only took a few slow thrusts until he was buried in with a low grunt. He pulled back and then pushed his entire length into the hilt.

"Fuck—fuck!" She cried and stuffed her face into the blankets.

"Too much?"

"No! It's so good. You're just so big…" She began to send her hips back against him and Harry slowly fucked in to match her pace. His eyes were everywhere. On her puss getting split open on his cock, the curve of her lower back, the swell of her ass.

He just knew she'd look so sweet with her ass stuffed too, but good things like that couldn't be rushed which was a shame.

Every thrust was gushy wet. Y/n bubbled out small moans every time his dick brushed deep into her guts. It was better than she imagined. The way he filled her to the brim was going to turn into an addiction. She'd never slept with any man that had her wanting seconds before they'd even finished.

"Oh my god…" she mewled into the comforter.

"Fuck, I know, baby…"

She fit him like a glove, it was perfect. He went in a little faster, balls thudding against her skin rhythmically making her bounce forward as she spread around his girth. When he ground in she arched her back deeply and let out a soft groan, her hands fisted at the blanket and Harry reached around and smeared his fingertips over her clit.

It had her panting and pushing into him feverishly. She'd needed the friction on her throbbing button and he'd found it easily, thick, rough fingerprints slicking back and forth as he rutted in and in. It sent electrical sparks over her limbs.

"Like that? Needs her clit touched? Shit baby, act like you've never been touched by a man right here before…" he plucked at her like he was playing the guitar and she began to fade, her moans getting caught in her chest.

He could feel her walls tightening around him as he drove in deep.

"Fuck, Harry— fuck!"

He grinned as he watched her shudder, "Give it up, Y/n. There you go…"

She began to pulse around him, a constant stream of nonsense falling from her lips as he stroked against her channel and pushed deep into her tummy, his fingers still working her clit with ease.

Just as her body had tipped and oxygen returned to her lungs he pulled out and she felt him taking her hips and turning her around to her back. Harry grabbed her ankles and lifted until each was settled over his shoulders and pushed back inside of her, cock drilling down to her core making her teeth chatter at the way he split her down the middle.

Harry leaned over her, cock buried deep as she watched her pretty face twist up with pleasure. Plapping into her, her tits wobbled as his balls tightened against his body. The harder he plunged in, the more her legs shook. Soon, her ankles had slipped down and her feet hit the mattress as he continued drilling into her. His face was flushed hot, lips parted, muscles tensed.

Reaching up to his neck she smoothed her fingers over his warm skin and he lowered his chest down to hers and kissed her. That filthy tongue ran over her lips and he sloppily sipped at her between sucking at her lips. Her brain had turned to jelly.

She felt his hand on her outer thigh squeezing and brushing as he fucked down into her. "Mmm… fuck, Y/n, m'gonna come…"

He trembled over her, thick thighs pressed down and flexed as he rutted in and in and in, and then… he stilled. A deep, guttural moan vibrated through his chest down into hers.

She sighed when she felt him throbbing, pumping into his condom. Her fingers caressed the muscles over his back and she gasped when he bucked in harshly, once more as he emptied the last of his come into the rubber wrapped around his cock.

He slowed his kisses until they were lazy little pecks and then he looked down at her, his chest heaving. She was already grinning up at him.

"What?"

She blinked her eyes, "That was fun."

He puffed out a breath, "I guess that's a good way to describe it."

Harry was a gentleman as he pulled out slowly and helped her off the bed and led her to his bathroom. He helped her clean up and listened to her tell him about her job —just reminding him that she was an adult after he commented on her being so young again.

When she picked her dress up off the floor and started to step into it, Harry frowned, "What are you doing?"

She stopped and raised her brows. "Getting dressed. Was gonna call an Uber. I'm sure you don't want a stranger in your house all night," she laughed.

Harry pulled at her hand, making her drop her dress, "What kind of men have you been hanging out with that let you leave in an Uber at 2 am? You'll stay here."

She opened her mouth and then closed it in surprise before tilting her head in confusion, "Really? I just assumed—"

"You'll stay the night here. There's no way in hell you're getting an Uber at this time of night. It's dangerous."

She grinned and shrugged, "Well then… can I have a shirt or something to sleep in?"

He placed his warm hands on her hips, "You can have a t-shirt if you like. I prefer to sleep naked myself."

"Oh yeah? I usually do too as a matter of fact."

He held her out in his arms and eyed her naked frame, "Looks like we're both good to go then. We'll get you sorted in the morning. I'll give you a ride home then."

"I think you just want to keep me here with you," she chuckled.

Harry shook his head and released her hips before he popped her on the bottom with his palm. She bleated out a laugh.

"Get your ass in bed before I change my mind."

"Yes, sir."

. .

→ PART 2 ←

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[lukesaprince]

The Other Man H.S

Summary: Where y/n's husband opens up her marriage and she meets Harry on Tinder...

Warning: Smut, oral (f & m recieving), penetration, dirty talk (degradation & praise), spanking, squirting, I think that's it?

Word count: 13.5k+

Author's note: Hellooo long time no see! It feels like forever since I posted anything and I do apologise for that my brain was taking a hiatus apparently but hopefully I can get back into the groove! This probably needs editing but I hope you like it anywayy.

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“So… do you do this a lot?”

“What do you mean?” You took a sip of your wine, trying to sate the erratic nerves jumping within the walls of your body. Not even a few drinks before you arrived to your date could save you. 

“Go on Tinder dates.” 

Harry, the man who effortlessly charmed you when your friends encouraged you to swipe right on him seemed as relaxed as ever. He had this calm and sensual aura about him that existed through every little thing he did. His smile, the way he thanked the waitress, the way he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and guided you to the table with a hand on the small of your back. Everything. 

It was all a little too charming for your first date back in the game. Part of you even wished it would be a disaster. Then you reminded yourself that there had to be a first date. That you had to reclaim your desirability and get back into the dating scene to find yourself again. It had been three months after all, nearly four since your marriage blew up in your face and everything about your life changed. 

You felt like you were ready. Or at least willing to give it a crack.

“You seem a little nervous, that’s why I ask. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Harry spoke up again when you didn’t answer right away. 

“You didn’t offend me,” you assured, blushing at the way you got so caught up in the attraction of him, “but is it really that obvious?” You shook your head, laughing softly like the idea of actually being on a date was unfathomable. It was. To you anyway; especially given the fact that the man sitting in front of you wasn’t your husband. “This is my first date in… a while.”

“It’s not obvious.” Harry laughed softly, running his hand through his hair. “But it’s okay to be nervous. I’m nervous too.”

“You are?” Your eyes widened, “it’s not because I’m married, is it? Because I put it in my profile and-”

“It’s not because you’re married,” He assured, interrupting your clear panic. He found it quite adorable actually. “It’s because I like you and I think you’re beautiful. I wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise.”

Oh. 

Harry didn’t want to overstep. He had only been chatting with you for a week before meeting in person, but he already liked you, at least from the few bits of information he learnt about you. And you were quite pretty, insanely pretty actually. Harry thought you were attractive from your profile, but seeing you in person only solidified that. It would take some serious differences between you two for him to not want to pursue things.

But this was a first date afterall and he wasn’t going to put pressure on something so fresh. You were clear before even meeting him that you weren’t looking for anything serious and Harry was happy with that. Whatever the outcome of this date, he at least wanted to make sure you had a good time. Even if it meant you two never saw each other again.

“Oh.” You felt your heart hammering in your chest at the compliment. Even his eye contact was making you a jittery mess. Harry made you nervous. Giddy even and you had barely known the man a week. “Thank you.”

Carson still complimented you, even still said he loved you, but nothing really felt the same after he wanted to open your marriage. It was like a wrecking ball to your life. Your heart broke instantly and your self esteem took the biggest hit you had ever experienced. Your own fucking husband asking to open your marriage after nearly three years of being married, six of being in a relationship. How were you supposed to take it?

He gave you those same reasons many guys give when they want to open a relationship; that you just didn’t fulfill his needs sexually anymore and that he needed more to be satisfied. You tried to explain that you’d be willing to explore his fantasies if he just communicated them, especially since he had been the one leading a very vanilla (but good) sex life since you two got married, but he didn’t like that idea. 

You came to the conclusion there was someone else. Carson denied it and told you he still loved you, but you couldn’t ignore the gut feeling that this was all some fucked up coverup to excuse cheating. So you said no. Safe to say that didn’t work out because a divorce ultimatum and three months later and you were here, trying to reap the benefits from an open relationship you were too reluctant to explore. 

Carson of course was happy to follow the rules you two set and be out nearly every damn night with someone, but you could never bring yourself to do it. You were still hung up on the hurt and pure embarassment you felt being forced to open a marriage you thought was happy. In the end you realised that you deserved the pleasure Carson was getting from someone else. You deserve to be desired and taken out on dates. It didn’t seem fair that only one person was benefitting.

“You’re welcome, love.” Harry smiled, “let’s just not put any pressure on it, okay? No expectations or anything. We’ll just get to know each other and see where the night takes us.”

You liked the sound of that. You liked the sound of him calling you ‘love’ even more. 

“Okay,” you nodded, “I like the idea of that.”

“Good.” Harry raised his wine glass in a toast and you couldn’t help but feel a little mesmerised by the sight of his ringed fingers wrapped around the glass. Shaking yourself out of it, you raised yours as well. “To us.” He offered.

“To us.”

The date with Harry went far better than you ever could’ve expected. He was sweet and charming and all the things that drew you to him via text were even better in person. You two had far more in common than you realised and even the things you didn’t only added so much interest to the conversation. He made you laugh harder than you had for months and was the perfect gentleman all night. 

You two didn’t sleep together, not that you went into this date wanting to sleep with him anyway because you weren’t really sure what to expect, but you came out of it hoping he’d offer to walk you up to your hotel door and maybe continue walking you right to your bed. Harry didn’t do that of course and instead offered you a kiss on your cheek and an invitation for dinner again next week, but that only made you want him more.

Leading up to the date was so overstimulating and so much all at once that you decided to book a room at the hotel in the same complex as your dinner (which he so kindly paid for), just so you’d have time in a clean environment to process your thoughts afterwards. 

Carson was out with his girlfriend April tonight, as that’s what she was to him now, so he wouldn’t be home anyway. But you didn’t want to be getting ready in your own room near the bed you and your husband shared, only to return to it after a date that could’ve been terrible. You wanted something just for you so no matter the outcome and no matter how you felt about it, you had somewhere free from any memories relating to your marriage.

When Harry offered the second date, you told him you’d think about it. He understood, took it like a great guy (the bare minimum, yes, but you were also expecting him to be too good to be true) then waited until you were in the closing doors of the elevator to say goodnight. It didn’t take long after you were clean and in the comfort of a fresh Carson-free bed that you texted Harry to let him know how much you enjoyed the date and that you would like to join him for dinner next week.

He was nice and handsome and you had a really good time with him. The thought of seeing him again made you giddy and you wanted to hang onto that feeling.

Harry: I’m glad it didn’t take you too long to think about it. I had a wonderful night. X

You were practically giggling as you read the text, feeling like a little girl dating a cute guy she liked for the very first time. It was exhilarating. Only one date in and you already understood the appeal Carson was talking about, as much as you wanted to disagree with him.

You: I’m glad. Goodnight Harry x

Harry: Goodnight, love. Sleep well x

//

“So what did you get up to last night?” Carson asked, “you have a nice night away?”

“I went on a date, actually.” Your back was facing towards him as you unpacked your overnight bag. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the surprise radiating off him.

“Oh, really? With who?” Carson walked around until he was in your eyeline. He was trying not to act surprised, but you could see it even better with him in front of you that he was. His tone didn’t come off judgemental though and if it did you’d have a few things you could throw back at him. He couldn’t really say anything when you had remained silent on all his flings and relationships. 

“His name’s Harry. I met him on tinder.” You shrugged, being honest but trying not to appear too excited about the whole thing. Carson didn’t need to know you thought about Harry before you went to sleep, or that you spent a good half an hour on the phone with your friends squealing about your date with him.

“That’s great.” Carson’s reply seemed genuine and he held that kind smile that you fell in love with. “How was it? Did he treat you right?”

“It was really good, actually,” you paused your unpacking and looked at your husband, seeing the kindness in his eyes as he listened attentively to what you were saying. You wished he’d look like that all the time. “He was the perfect gentleman and we’re going on another date next week.”

“He must’ve really liked you then,” he teased. 

Carson was just joking and being quite civil about the entire thing, but you still felt that churning in your stomach. It would never feel normal talking about a date with someone else, even if it was your date instead of his now. 

“I guess so. It was only one date though.”

“Did you sleep together?” Then came the dreaded question. 

You both agreed that you had to disclose when you slept with another person and a condom always had to be used. No details had to be shared and it was preferred that there weren’t any, but for your own health and safety, you had to share it with each other. It only really mattered when you two were having sex with each other, which, with work and Carson’s busy schedule with other people, only happened once a month if that on your scheduled weekend together. 

Opening the marriage seemed to completely eradicate that part of your relationship and while you were unsatisfied, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to try and change that. Not with Carson at least. 

“No. You know I’d tell you if we did.” You didn’t really want to talk about it anymore, not when this conversation was ruining your once-happy mood.

“I know,” Carson replied softly, moving forward to place his hands on your hips. “I love you, you know that. I hope you find some joy in Harry, or whoever. Whatever makes you happy, y/n. That’s all I want for you.”

That felt like the biggest load of shit ever but you chose not to say that.

So you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to remember when you used to do it and not feel a sense of dread. “I love you too.”

//

You went on a few dates with Harry. You tried to plan things around when Carson was busy so you wouldn’t be stuck at home thinking about what he was doing and that seemed to do the trick because you hadn’t thought about him once on any of the dates you had with Harry. 

Things had progressed to a goodbye kiss then a hello kiss when you decided to be a little brave and greet him with one when he picked you up one Saturday morning. And God Harry just knew how to kiss. Even a peck was delicious. His mouth was so soft and sweet and the way he held your face or your waist while kissing you made your entire body light on fire. The more time you spent with him, the more desperate you were becoming to sleep with him.

But Harry was such a gentleman. You didn’t want anything serious and he knew that and yet he hadn’t made the first move. Kissing you was as far as he got and when things started to get a little heated when you two said goodbye, it would always end far too prematurely for your liking. 

In your head, a lot of men just wanted to have sex and most of the time did anything and everything to get there before moving on once their post-nut clarity hit. That’s kind of what you expected from Harry. Someone so good-looking and out of your league could find sex easily so you assumed he’d be eager to sleep with you. That was part of the allure, wasn’t it? To sleep with a married woman? The nasty, scandalous thrill of being with someone that belonged to someone else.

Yet Harry never treated you like that, in fact, he didn’t even bring up your marriage unless you started the conversation. Harry just treated you like someone genuinely interested in getting to know you. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

It was only your third date. This conversation should’ve come up earlier, maybe even on one of the many text conversations or calls you had, but you were a little caught up in his charm and romance to think about it then and you wanted to see his reaction in person. In the very beginning you weren’t even sure if you’d be seeing him again but now that you were up to date three and he just never brought up the fact that you were married… well you wanted to know why. He knew your marriage was open but you didn’t quite understand why was he okay with it? There had to be a reason, right? 

“Of course you can.” He leaned back against the chair and tucked his elbow on the edge of the balcony you two were sitting at. It was a picturesque little cafe overlooking a river and it truly felt like you two were on some romantic holiday. The sun was gorgeous even despite the cold breeze and Harry looked effortlessly handsome. 

“Why do you… I don’t know how to put it.” You sat a bit straighter in your chair, fiddling with the rings on your fingers. Your wedding ring. You weren’t sure why you still wore it on your dates with Harry, but it was a habit and you were married. “You never bring up Carson or the fact that I’m married and I want to know why…”

“Why I don’t care?” He asked, finishing off your sentence. 

“Yeah…” You nodded, “I guess I just don’t get it. You’re a lot younger than me-”

“I’m 27 and it’s only five years.” He corrected, looking quite amused by your comment. Five years was a big gap when he was younger than you, at least you thought so. 

“Still.” You pressed, “You’re young and I’m married. I just don’t understand why you’re choosing to go out with me and not someone else. And the fact that you’re okay with my marriage it just… I don’t know.” You looked away for a moment, needing to break free from his eye contact so you weren’t completely swept up in it. “I’m not sure if I’d be the same. I’m not the same and I’m the one who’s married.”

“I’ve been married before…” 

Well, you certainly didn’t expect that.

“What?” Your eyes widened and Harry nearly laughed at how shocked you were.

“I was only 20 at the time and it was stupid to say the least but we were happy and in love and marriage seemed like the answer to all our problems.” He smiled at the memory, tracing his finger around the rim of his water glass as he thought back to that time in his life. 

“And it wasn’t?”

“No.” He chuckled, sighing while running a hand through his hair. “Marriage caused more problems than it was worth. Steph and I were broke and both in school. We could barely afford our degrees let alone rent and it just caused so many arguments. Too many arguments. We still loved each other and we made it work but over time… the love faded.” Harry shrugged. This felt like too intense of a conversation for breakfast, but you weren’t really expecting to find out about a marriage. 

“Wow…” You breathed. “I’m sorry. Um, how long were you two married?”

“Three years. We were just too young and going through too many changes. In the end, we were more like roommates than husband and wife. Didn’t have sex for the last six months because we were too busy working and emotionally disconnecting from each other.” He looked out to the water, turning back to finish off his point. “Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that shit happens. Relationships aren’t clear-cut. I can tell you’re not just trying to get some exciting thrill by cheating on your husband so as far as I’m concerned it’s just you and me.” Harry bumped his foot against yours under the table, smirking ever so slightly. “If that changes I’m sure you’ll let me know.”

Harry spoke about it in such a respectful way. You imagined it was far messier than he made it out to be, but he didn’t blame Steph or attack her character to make himself the good guy in all of it. It was refreshing and mature. Was it bad that him being married before only made him more attractive?

Maybe it was because you now knew that he understood you. 

“That’s a very… refreshing outlook, Harry.”

“Refreshing?” He chuckled, “No. Realistic.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table, nudging your foot again. “And to answer your other question, the reason I’m out with you and not ‘somebody else’ is because I like you. I told you that on our very first date and I’ll say it again. I like you. Simple.”

“You act like things are so easy.” You laughed, blushing at his honesty. 

“They can be.” He reached for your hand, threading your fingers together before squeezing. “It feels easy with you.”

Yeah… it did. 

To make things worse… or better? his admission only made you more insatiable for him. Nothing he said was remotely casual, but it had also been a long time since you were dating. Aside from Carson, only one other man had touched you, so you didn’t really have a good gauge on navigating new beginnings or sex with a new person. You knew how to please a man but all your skills were honed in on one man. 

So when Harry offered to host dinner at his house for your next date, your stomach was a mixture of nerves and pure excitement. You hadn’t been there before, but with his invitation to stay the night, you didn’t really care what his place looked like, just that he had a nice clean bed to fuck you on. 

You never thought you’d be in this position, but you also never thought you’d be in an open marriage with a man you imagined building a family with. You didn’t see that happening now, but what you did see was you enjoying yourself and getting to explore another man for the first time in years.

Harry wouldn’t have just invited you to spend the night if he wasn’t interested in sleeping with you. He didn’t fit into the dump-and-run stereotype you created in your head, but he sure as hell wasn’t uninterested in sex. He practically oozed it from his fucking pores. 

“Y/n!” Harry beamed, opening the door with a big charming grin. He looked gorgeous and you were taken aback at just how good-looking he was. He told you to dress casually and while he matched the criteria with a pair of jeans and a loose white button-up, he looked anything but casual. 

“Hi,” you smiled, stepping inside. You barely made it into the doorway before he grabbed your overnight back from your shoulder, slung it on his and then cupped your face to bring you in for a kiss. You gasped a little into his mouth, humming when you relaxed into it and grabbed onto the sides of his mouth to reciprocate. 

It felt so young kissing like this; languid and passionately right in the open doorway of his house where anyone who drove or walked past could see. But you didn’t really care who saw when he was nudging you against the doorway and crowding you with his body. It wasn’t an innocent kiss that’s for sure. 

His mouth moved expertly against yours, tongue sliding against the seam of your mouth until it was brushing against yours. He grabbed onto your waist, pulling you flush against him until he was consuming every part of you. It was delirious the way he sucked on your tongue and groaned at the taste of your mouth. 

If this was setting the tone for the evening, you could barely wait. 

“Did you miss me or something?” You joked, breathing heavily as the kiss broke. 

He smiled, nodding while running his thumb over your mouth. He dragged his eyes over your body, taking in your nice fitting jeans and top with the most perfect amount of cleavage he could die. You were radiant. “Very much so.” 

God.

“Come in, love. It’s cold out.” Harry stepped out of the way properly this time, closing the door behind you while you looked around his entranceway. 

“Shoes off?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” 

Harry walked you straight through to his living area. It was a warm, inviting home with soft lighting and lots of texture. He had a musical influence throughout but in the most tasteful way ever. Posters, vinyls and a gorgeous record player front and centre in his living room. His style was envying and you wished Carson would let you do even half the things Harry had done to his house. 

You could see yourself being very comfortable here. 

“Your house is gorgeous, Harry.” You complimented, looking around the space in awe. 

“Thank you.” He gushed, setting your bag down on one of his armchairs before walking into the kitchen. “I originally hired an interior designer then ended up picking all her opposite choices. I think I did an okay job.”

“I think so.” You agreed, following him to the island bench. The entire house was fragrant. It was a mixture of some citrusy candle, whatever delicious dish was in the oven and his cologne. It was intoxicating. “Ugh and it smells so good in here. What is that?” you practically moaned.

“Alfredo chicken pasta.” Harry mused, grabbing a bottle of red from his wine fridge. “I know you like it. Thought I should try and impress you for our first at home date.”

“So far it’s working. Just need to wait until it’s in my mouth for the final verdict.” You replied, pressing your hip to the bench while looking at him. “Can’t give you a raving review before I’ve tried it, can I?”

If Harry set the tone with the kiss, you set the tone with your words and those flirty eyes of yours. He pressed his tongue into his cheek, nearly audibly moaning at the double entendre. Harry had been holding back on how badly he wanted you since the first date. 

There was an instant fire between you. Chemistry he had been wanting to act upon for weeks. But he knew this was the first relationship for you since your husband suggested opening your marriage and he didn’t want to push things. You two spoke about it extensively after the third date when you wanted to clear the air to figure out what Harry got from this. 

Harry got pure pleasure. To him it was simple. He enjoyed your company and you seemed genuine in what you told him about your situation, so why wouldn’t he pursue things with you?

“You’re a smart woman.” Harry smirked, pouring the red wine into both wine glasses he had set on the bench before your arrival. “Actions speak louder than words, don’t they?” The way he looked at you nearly had you sweating. 

“It’s an age-old saying, after all.” You mused, thanking him once he passed you a glass. “To us?”

“To our first night together.” He clinked his glass against yours, eliciting a smile that had you trying to hide how nervous he truly made you feel. It had been a while since you got butterflies in the presence of a man. 

“Now, tell me all about your day. Must’ve been pretty relaxing if you had so much time to get all pretty for me.” He teased, reaching out to pluck at the hem of your shirt. 

“Yeah right.” You snorted, jumping straight into all the problems you encountered during your work day. 

Dinner went perfect as it usually did. You both laughed and drank and shared a delicious meal. By the time dessert came, Harry had moved from his chair opposite you to sit right beside you, deciding to play a game with the few mini dishes he made. He didn’t really explain why he chose to make multiple options, only that you had to guess what each one is. 

You weren’t really going to stop him from feeding you, were you? 

“Okay keep your eyes closed.” He prompted, walking over to the table with the long plate housing the mini desserts. 

“Okay! Okay they’re closed.” You shuffled in your chair, trying not to sneak a peek even if you wanted to. 

“Keep them closed.” He warned again, his arm brushing yours as he set the plate onto the table. 

“They are.” You defended. 

“How many fingers?” Harry sat right next to you, waving two fingers in front of your face. 

“Harry!”

“Okay.” He laughed. Harry grabbed one of the dessert spoons and took a small chunk from the first dessert before bringing it close to your face. “Any guesses?”

“Smells warm.” You guessed, breathing in the delicious cinnamon-or was it caramel? “Caramel?”

“Very good, Angel.” He praised, unintentionally making your breath hitch. That little bit of praise hit you right in the belly, making a swarm of butterflies flutter all over. “Open your mouth.”

Shit. If only he was asking you to open your mouth for something else. 

You did as instructed and widened your mouth, rubbing your palms up and down your thighs. He brought the spoon to your mouth, letting you suck it clean before removing it. “Do you have a guess?”

“Mmh.” You hummed softly, savoring the taste of the dessert you had on your first date. “Sticky date pudding?”

“Atta girl!” He cheered. “Well done.”

If he praised you one more time… god you almost felt pathetic at how turned on you were getting. And over food. 

“Can I open my eyes now?” You whispered, wanting to look at him. 

“Nope. Next one.” He took a spoon from the next dessert and repeated the same movements, holding it in front of your nose so you could smell it first. “What can you smell?”

“Custard maybe? Vanilla?” 

“Yeah… on the right track.” He mused, “open up.” Then once again he fed you the spoon. 

“Oh that’s so good.” You practically moaned, feeling his thumb brush against your mouth to wipe away a bit of custard. He sucked his thumb clean of it, watching you enjoy the dessert. Your moans of appreciation were hitting him harder than he thought they would but he just couldn’t help himself. You were moaning over something he made. He could only imagine what you’d sound like moaning over his cock or his mouth. “Is it… like a custard croissant cake or pudding? Whatever you call it.”

“You know your desserts. I’m impressed.”

“We had it on our second date, Harry.” And that’s when it clicked. “Are these desserts we’ve had on our dates?” 

“Maybe. Depends if you can guess the last one. Now open up pretty girl.” At his last instruction you opened your mouth and your eyes at the same time, looking right at him. “Heyy. That’s cheating.” He complained, feeding it to you. 

There was something erotic about the way you sucked that spoon clean, even going as far as plucking it from Harry’s fingers so you could get all the chocolate from it. “I knew it was chocolate pudding before you even fed it to me.” You whispered, looking down at the nicely plated dish. “Did you really make dishes we’ve had on our dates?”

“Maybe.” He repeated, scanning his eyes along your side profile. “Too much?”

No. Fuck, you were about ready to jump his bones. 

“No.” You shook your head and set the spoon down. “This is… this is really thoughtful. Thank you.”

It was romantic. Everything about this date was romantic. 

“You’re welcome.” Harry murmured, eyes flickering down to your mouth. A playful smile emerged on his mouth and you could just tell something was up. 

“What?” You chuckled. 

“You’ve got something here.” He reached out to cup your face, swiping your mouth clean like he did before. “See? Must’ve liked the chocolate pudding.” 

Before he had a chance to lick it clean himself, you grabbed his hand and brought his thumb to your mouth. His lips parted and his eyes darkened as he watched you wrap your lips around it, sucking on it gently. 

“It’s good…” you whispered, eyes fluttering when he cupped your jaw. The heat rising in the room was almost unbearable. Every second felt like an hour, every flick of his eyes between your own and your mouth like a century. The touch of his pinky grazing your neck had you shivering and all you wanted-no, craved was his mouth on yours. You bit your lip, releasing it with a pop before breathing out a soft laugh. “So are you going to kiss me or-”

You couldn’t say another word because Harry had already slid his hand back to thread through your hair and pulled you right in for a kiss. You whimpered as your lips met in a soft kiss. It started gently, but as the seconds went by and your hands ended up in his hair, it was getting hot and heavy. 

“Harry…” you sighed, breaking when you needed to breathe. 

“God I love kissing you.” He murmured, tipping your head back so he could kiss along your jaw towards your neck. 

“I…” you swallowed thickly while rubbing your hands down his neck towards his shirt buttons. You were desperate to see more of his skin. To feel more of it. “I want you.”

Harry paused, breathing heavily while pulling back to look at you. His lips were already swollen; all pink and yummy looking and his eyes had this dark look in them. It was a look you were sure you had given him countless times. When your heavy kisses got cut short or when you were forced to say goodnight when you really wanted to invite him in. You were sure you were giving it to him now. 

“I want you. Really fucking bad.” He admitted, reaching to push your hair back from your face. “I just don’t want to rush you, baby. I didn’t invite you over expecting anything and-shit.” Harry’s eyes widened as you bit the bullet and ripped your shirt off before putting it down on your lap. 

You were everything he imagined you’d be. No. You were better. Gorgeous in every way and in one of the prettiest bras he had ever seen. You could’ve worn anything though and he still would’ve thought that. But Jesus.  

“You’re not rushing me.” You whispered, “but I am wearing matching underwear so you can rush that if you want to…”

Harry swooped in again, holding your face in both hands to kiss you. “I want to.” He practically moaned, “but I’m not rushing anything with you. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Good.” You smiled softly, sliding your palms over his chest before undoing the top button. “Good.” You barely whispered the word before kissing him again. 

Harry pulled you closer by your hips, nudging your shirt to the ground so your legs thread into each other. He ran his hands over your torso, your waist and your arms while you worked on unbuttoning his shirt. His skin was warm and soft and you were addicted to the feeling of his chest hairs against your hands. 

He undid your pants, draping the zipper down before making the executive decision to stand up and force you up as well with his hands on your hips. Your pants and top fell to the floor with ease and he was quick to push the dessert plate and cutlery out of the way so he could pick you up and set you on the edge of the table. 

He was obsessed with how your body felt in his hands and under his lips and he wanted to explore every inch of you. He let his mouth trail along your collarbones and neck, down to the clevage spilling from your bra. You were so soft and sweet, so plush in his hands. Harry never wanted this to end and it had barely started. He hadn’t even tasted you yet…

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, y/n.” Harry breathed, taking a moment to just look at you. He reached in to kiss you gently while massaging your thighs, sliding his fingers so close to the edge of your underwear without brushing them at all. “Can I touch you?” 

“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. That was when you caught sight of the twinking diamond on your ring finger. The reminder that despite all verbal permission given by your husband as per your arrangement, you were still going to sleep with another man while married. “Can I ask a favour, though. Before we… do anything?”

“Of course.” He urged, eyes softening. “Anything. What is it?”

His gaze was so soft… so endearing. Harry showed more care for what you were saying than your husband did in the months he was off dating other people. Probably for months before that too. 

You breathed out heavily, heart thumping in your ears as you pulled your ring finger off and played with it in your hands. “Will you put this in your pocket? I don’t want it on for this. I just want it to be you and me.”

“I’ll keep it safe.” Harry promised, holding his palm flat for you to put the ring on. “Even if you wore it, it would still be you and me, y/n.” He assured, sliding the ring into the tiny pocket at the front of his jeans. 

“It wouldn’t.” You whispered, smiling softly while reaching forward to kiss him again. “It is now, though.”

Harry moaned into the kiss, pulling you closer to him so he had better access to you. Then he went back to just touching you. Caressing you. He palmed at your breasts and your thighs and your belly… everywhere he could. 

Carson knew how to make you cum, but Harry didn’t and that was almost better. He didn’t skip through to the end, to what he knew would work. No, Harry took his sweet time running his hands and his mouth over your body, trying to figure out what you liked best. He wanted to memorise the little jerks or squeezes of your thighs the prettiest soft whimpers if he touched you just so. 

Harry loved the first time he slept with someone knew. It was a new experience and an entirely new set of likes and dislikes for him to explore. And after you dressed up so nice for him and wore what would’ve had to be the sexiest lingerie he had ever seen, Harry couldn’t have been more excited. He had been waiting for this since the moment he met you face to face. 

“What do you like?” Harry breathed, smoothing his hands over your stomach up towards your breasts. They slipped under the cups of your bra to push it above your nipples so he could pinch them in both hands. “Tell me. Please.” He was almost desperate, needing to know how he could please you.

“I like what you’re doing now. I like…” You swallowed, whimpering ever so slightly when he pinched your right nipple a little harder, “I like when you look at me…”

“What else?” Harry murmured, keeping his eyes laced with yours as he dipped down to tug at your nipple with his teeth instead. He soothed the ache with his tongue; all hot and slick. All you could think about was his tongue being somewhere else. Getting head was a rare commodity in your house. Carson was quite decent at it, actually, but it was one of those things where it took forever for you to cum. You both worked demanding jobs so when you got time or needed release, it was usually something quick to get the job done. 

But god, you’d kill to be eaten out. 

“Fuck…” you gasped, running a hand through his soft hair. While you were nervous about sleeping with a new man, there was one thing marriage life did prepare you for; saying what you wanted. You had no problems telling Harry exactly what you liked. “I like dirty talk too. I like to be praised…” you had to pause when he sucked on your nipple again, releasing it with a pop that had you shivering when the air hit the wetness left behind by his tongue. “Degraded too…”

“Yeah?” Harry cocked his head, smirking like you just unlocked something evil in him. “Anything you don’t like to be called?”

“Stupid. I don’t like being called a bitch, either.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pretty girl,” Harry assured, tucking his fingers into the waistband of your pretty underwear and sliding them side to side against your skin. Harry would’ve loved to get you completely bare for him, but there was something so sexy about fucking you while you were wearing the lingerie. You wore it for a reason, it would be a shame to let it lay on the floor for the entire night, especially when you looked so fucking good at it.  “Tell me more. I want to know what I can do to you.”

“It’s too easy if I give you all the answers, Harry. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” You teased, sitting up from the table so you could run your palms all over his chest and up to around his neck.

He was just glorious. All tanned and muscular with littered hairs that made him look so much more manly. You could only imagine what his pecs would look like all sweaty while he fucked you. You hoped he’d hover over your head so you could lick at his chest and tug at that sinful cross necklace between your teeth. 

“Can I tell you what I want to do?” He proposed, hooking one finger on the underside of your underwear this time, moving it towards your mound but not down enough to feel how wet you had grown for him. He was so close to dipping his fingers into your crease. So close to being able to please you. 

“Please…” You breathed, eager and so damn desperate for anything.

“I want to fuck you while you’re wearing this,” he snapped at the fabric, maintaining direct eye contact with you. Oh, Jesus. Between his eye contact and his sultry tone, you were going dizzy at how direct he was being. You loved it. “Then I want to strip you naked and watch you bounce on my cock. Forwards… backwards.” He groaned at the thought and grabbed onto your ass, firmly pulling you closer to the edge of the dining table until his lips brushed with yours. You could feel the hard length of his cock press against your pussy, promising you that it would be deep inside you by the end of the night.

“I want to make your ass red so when you go home to your husband, he’ll know I fucked you better than he ever could.” 

It was another promise, that Harry would indeed fuck you better than Carson ever could. 

“But first…” Harry bucked his hips against yours, keeping his grip on your hips tight so you couldn’t wiggle away at his directed grinds over your clit. He kissed you gingerly, watching your eyes haze over as you whimpered softly. Between his cock and his words, your head was spinning. “I need to taste you. I’ve thought about nothing else but having my face between your thighs for weeks now.”

Harry grabbed your hands from behind his neck and pressed them down to the table on either side of your hips, bumping his nose with yours. “Do you like the idea of any of that, darling?”

You nodded eagerly, loving the sound of all of it. “Uhuh. All of it…” you inhaled a sharp breath, loving the feeling of his hands moving to knead at your inner thighs, “There is one thing though. Something I want.”

“Tell me.” He murmured, eyes wide and eager. He just couldn’t keep his hands off you. He was grabbing your thighs and your hips, craving the warmth of your body. 

“I want your cock in my mouth. I’ve been thinking about that since our first date.”

Harry smirked and you could feel the way his cock jerked right against you. It was big. You wanted to choke on it. 

“That can be arranged.” 

He reached in to kiss you again, groaning like a starved man while wrapping his palm around the back of your neck to guide you back down against the table. When you were flat he stood back up and stripped his shirt off fully, leaving him completely shirtless. 

Then he did something unexpected. With a shit-eating grin on his face he pulled up the chair he kicked away earlier and sat on it, shuffling close to the table like he was getting ready to eat a three-course meal. You were going to make fun of him for it, but you didn’t really get a chance when he slung your legs over his shoulder and nuzzled his nose right into the crotch of your underwear. 

“Jesus.” He moaned, eyes fluttering closed. Your jaw went completely slack at what you were witnessing. Never had a man looked so fucking hungry to eat you out. He was practically delirious and all he had done was inhale how sweet you were. Harry was looking forward to having your scent all over him. “You smell so fucking good, y/n.” He looked up at you again, hooking the very tip of his finger into the crotch of your underwear and sliding it up and down along your crease. “But do you taste as good as you smell?”

You nearly whined like some pathetic puppy, but you had to keep that inside as you didn’t want to appear too eager. Too easy. Truthfully, you were easy though. Harry was able to turn you on easier and quicker than you ever thought. And all over a little dirty talk and a slight obsession with eating you out. 

“Why don’t you find out?” You hiked yourself up on your elbows, bringing your feet off his shoulders and onto the edge of the table so you were spread wider for him. 

“Oh I will,” he pulled your underwear to the side, breath hitching at the first sight of your bare pussy. “You’re so gorgeous, y/n. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long… long time.”

When his mouth finally grazed your clit, you fell back against the table. You couldn’t hold yourself up even if you wanted to, not when he started eating you out like a damn starved animal. Harry moaned like you were the best thing he ever tasted and touched everywhere. He wasn’t clit happy or labia happy and he certainly didn’t miss-interpret one part of your anatomy for another.

“Fuck Harry… oh God.” You whined, pulling at his hair with both hands before suddenly letting go because you hadn’t asked if you could. You didn’t even know if he liked it. “Do you-” You could barely breathe let alone talk. “Can I pull your hair? Is it okay?”

“God, yes. As hard as you want,” Harry moaned like the idea of his hair being pulled was orgasmic. “Don’t stop, y/n. I promise.” He grabbed your hand and guided it back to his hair, giving you a reassuring nod before going back to your clit. 

Harry knew exactly what he was doing. How to tease, how to take advantage of your entire body to make you feel good. He kissed and nipped over your thighs and used his hands to squeeze your breasts and play with your nipples. It was all so wet and sloppy and you felt like your entire body was on fire. 

“God you taste… shit-” Harry broke for air, spitting directly over your pussy then spreading it around with two fingers, “you taste so fucking good, y/n.” He used one of those wet fingers and slid it inside you, pumping it a few times while slurping against your clit again. “Never thought a pussy could be so sweet… ‘m addicted.” 

He slid his second finger in easily, fucking you with both digits so good your arousal was echoing around the room. His high ceilings did wonders of making sound travel. Even with all the rugs and soft furnishing, the softest moan sounded so much louder. And you were anything but soft. Your noises were loud and unforgiving and every single one of them was going straight to his cock.

It also meant you heard every groan Harry made. Every single sound of pleasure he was feeling just eating you out. It was possibly one of the sexiest things you had ever experienced. A man with his head buried between your thighs moaning and being so fucking enthusiastic because he gained genuine pleasure out of it. He liked it. Harry ate you out like it was his favourite thing on planet earth. 

“You okay? You good?” He checked in on you, looking up at your gaped mouth and thrown-back head. You only moaned in response so Harry reached for your hand and threaded your fingers, squeezing them to get your attention. “Hey. Look at me.” He nudged, not happy with your lack of response.

You forced yourself to look down at him, nearly shaking at how intense his eye contact was. His (now) three fingers were still steadily fucking into you, but he had taken a much-needed break from using his mouth to check on you. “Good?”

“Yes. So so good. So good.” You nodded eagerly, trying to guide his face back to you with the hand still in his hair. “Just-please. I need it.”

“You need it?” He grinned, cocking his head ever so slightly. “Is it that good, baby? Do I suck your pretty clit so good that you need it?”

“Yes... Oh yes...”

“I need it too.” He admitted, dipping back in to swirl his tongue around his fingers, right where your poor needy hole was dripping with arousal. “You just taste so fucking good, y/n. I’d have you on my face every night if I could.”

You seemed to like that idea because he could feel you clench around his fingers, knees bumping into each other so his face was wedged between your thighs. Your underwear were a complete mess too; all soaked and creamy. Harry wanted to wring them with his teeth and suck them dry, but with the real thing pressed right against his nose, he didn’t have to. 

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Letting me eat your cunt every night? Every morning, even? Would you let me wake you up with my head between your thighs? Let me eat you for a midnight snack. Because I would.” Harry moaned as he wedged his mouth over your clit again, kissing and licking at it, spitting at it so it was even wetter. You were practically a sobbing mess above him too and that only encouraged him to say whatever he wanted.

“Y/n, I’d worship you and this pretty pussy.” 

He slid his fingers out just long enough to smack them against your clit. It was gentle at first and he quickly soothed the sharp sting with his tongue. But he felt the way you jerked around his head, how your hips lifted off the table to get more. 

“Is it okay?” He breathed, looking up for an answer. This time, you were already looking right at him. You had been from the moment he left your aching cunt empty and needy because you wanted to see what he’d do. And what a sight. You were sure you’d never forget the image of him smacking your clit then making out with it like a starved man. It was ridiculous. 

Harry Styles’ mouth would kill you one day. You knew it would. 

“More than okay.” You nodded, bringing your intertwined fingers up to your breast so his large hand would squeeze against your nipple. “Do it again.”

He followed your request quickly and spanked over your pussy again, this time a little harder and with more surface area of his fingers. You gasped out a moan, back lurching off the table as they hit your swollen clit. He quickly soothed the burn with his tongue, this time blowing on your sensitive skin for a moment before languidly tracing swirls over your clit.

“Again. Harder.” You gurgled out, clenching your fist into his hair when he smacked your clit again. Harder. He slid those three fingers right back into you again, curling and fucking them roughly right against your g-spot. “Oh God… Harry!”

“Oh, you’re such a good little slut letting me spank you like this. Right over your little clit too, hm? Who knew such a pretty girl would like such dirty things.”

The dirty talk… you were going to pass out.

“You’re taking it so well, y/n” He cooed, pulling his fingers out to spank you again before they returned deep into your pussy. It was dizzying. The way he spanked you then fucked you then spanked you again like some quick endless loop. He was careful not to hit you too many times, but whatever he was doing was making you reach your orgasm faster than any other oral you had received. 

“‘M gonna cum, Harry. Please just…” You pulled his face back to your clit, urging him closer with your hand.

Harry didn’t argue and did what you seemed to like the most; those three fingers stroking right against your g-spot, one hand on your breast and his mouth sucking right over your clit. It seemed to do the trick too because not even ten seconds later, you were practically lurching off the table while crying out his name through a squirting orgasm. Your hand cemented him to your pussy so he could happily collect as much of your release right in his mouth. 

When you started to calm down, Harry softened his movements and pulled his fingers out of you. He licked them clean then pressed soft kisses all over your thighs and mound, even right on either side of your clit.

“You’re such a good girl, darling. Did so well for me.” Harry praised, squeezing your hand and keeping his eyes on your face as you panted and looked up at the ceiling. 

“God that was…” You swallowed thickly, pushing your sweaty hair from your forehead so you could look down at him. 

“What?” He nudged, smirking while kissing your inner thigh. “Good? Is that the word you’re looking for?”

“Your ego’s too big for your own good.” You laughed softly, sitting up so you could guide his mouth to yours. Harry was still smiling into the kiss until he relaxed into it. That’s when it turned heated again. The taste of your pussy and his mouth; your mouth too… it was all too much. “But yeah…” you sighed, “it was good.”

He stood up from his chair so you weren’t hunched down to kiss him and the moment you had access to his jeans, you started working on undoing them. Harry hissed into the kiss when you applied pressure to his hard bulge and he had to break free just to breathe at how sensitive he was. His cock felt harder than ever before. He didn’t think he had ever been this turned on and sore in his entire life.

This chemistry with you… it was otherworldly. Supernatural almost. A compelling pull like his cells were trying to fuse with yours. 

And you were married. He had to push that thought out of his head because only a few weeks into this and he was already considering asking you to leave your husband. 

“I need you, baby.” He panted, grabbing your hips tightly as you pushed his jeans and boxers down his thighs to free his cock. “Shit-”

You wrapped your hand around his cock while he helped you get them off the rest of the way. You couldn’t help but look down between you, needing to see how pretty he was. And pretty he was. Long and decently thick, so heavy in your hand. You knew he’d fill you up so good he’d have you seeing stars. Two fingers were usually enough to prep you for sex, sometimes even one depending on how turned on you were.

You were glad he chose three.

“Your cock is so pretty, Harry.” You complimented, squeezing your palm around him. Your eyes filtered between your working hand and his face, obsessed with how hooded his eyes became just from your hand. “So big too… I need you inside me. ‘M so empty.”

Harry didn’t quite realise when you said you liked dirty talk that you liked it both ways, but he rather enjoyed the filth spilling from your mouth. He found it cute that you could barely string words together when he was pleasuring you, but like this? It was the biggest fucking turn-on.

“Bend me over the table…” You begged softly, nipping at his jaw until you reached the shell of his ear. His cock was oozing precum down over your hand. He liked what you were saying. “Please. Make me squirt again…”

“Come here.”

Harry pulled you off the table and with a rough hand, spun you around to bend you over the table. You squealed as he spanked your ass without thought, spreading your cheeks wide to spit down over you. He planned to fulfil his promise of fucking you with this lingerie on and now that he was looking at your pretty holes bent over with the tiny string of lace tucked to the side… he couldn’t have been more excited.

“You’re just so hot, y/n.” Harry groaned, spanking your other cheek just to watch your ass jiggle. “So goddamn hot.”

“I’m hotter with a cock in me.” 

Your mouth earned you another spank, this time directly over your sensitive cunt. You squealed and jumped in place, but Harry easily soothed the ache with a friendly grind of his cock against your clit. Your knees buckled at the direct stimulation but Harry made sure you kept still by pressing his hand to your lower back.

“I need to get a condom,” he murmured to himself, suddenly remembering the dreaded protection right when his cock was so close to being inside you. 

“Hurry.” You gasped, forehead pressed to the table. 

“I will. I will.”

Harry fished the condom from his jeans pocket, placed there earlier in the evening in hopes of sleeping with you tonight. It was a just-in-case for something spur of the moment, though he didn’t start the night plotting a way to get you in his bed. He was glad now that he put that condom in there just in case, especially when you were waiting for him. 

Once the condom was on, he was right back in position. A hand on the small of your back and the other guiding the head of his cock to your entrance. Harry didn’t wait or tease, he just pressed right into you slowly and deliberately. 

“Shit-”

“Oh goddd…”

Your curses echoed at the same time, both as desperate as each other. Harry just stretched you so perfectly, on the cusp of too much and the best type of full possible. It helped that you were so damn wet, so turned on that he was easily able to push inside you. 

“God, baby. You're so tight.” Harry hissed, reaching forward to press a kiss to the middle of your back. You couldn’t even respond to his compliment when your body was still getting accustomed to a new man. A new cock. All you could do was moan and claw at the table, clenching around him. “Hey. You okay?” Harry checked, sweeping your hair back so he could see your face.

“Uhuh. Just… shit.” You whimpered, squeezing around him again. He cursed at how tight you were and collected your hair in a loose hold around his fist. 

“Y’sure?” He mused, pressing a kiss right in between your shoulder blades. “You’re trembling beneath me, darling.”

“Fuck me.” You begged. He was so deep in your belly and it was torturous having him so far inside you and not moving at all. “Please Harry just-”

He didn’t need to be convinced any further. Not with how sweet you sounded and how wet you were around him. You were a fucking dream and that only became more apparent as Harry started thrusting into you. He started with a slow but steady grind, fucking you with hard pressure like he was trying to memorise every inch of your pussy. 

“God baby. You feel so good.” Harry moaned, building up the speed with a good grip on your hips. He hooked his thumb into the small lace string of your underwear, pulling it to the side so he could watch his cock disappear into your wet cunt. And you were so wet. Your arousal coating his length and turning creamy the longer he fucked you. It was obscene. 

Mostly though, he was watching your face. Your cheek pressed to the table, mouth gaped open and eyes screwed shut as you moaned the-fuck the prettiest noises he had ever heard. He had barely shown you his best tricks and you were a mess beneath him. Had your husband really been lacking this entire time? Been leaving you so unsatisfied that a bit of doggy had you unravelling? 

He couldn’t bear the thought of you having to take care of yourself because your husband couldn’t do it for you. But maybe that was a good thing. Because then Harry would be there for you. He’d give you pleasure you had never experienced in your life. Over and over again. 

Starting with tonight. 

“Feel good baby?” Harry cooed, spanking your ass with a rough touch. 

“Yeah” 

“Yeah?” He repeated, spanking you again on the opposite side. Your whine echoed around the room, as did the sound of the dining table squeaking forward against Harry’s nice floorboards. “Say it, baby. Tell me how I’m doing, hm?”

“So good. God, you fuck me so good.” You moaned, “please- go… go harder. Harder.”

Harry picked up the pace, reaching to wrap your hair around his fist so he could pull your head back. “Moan for me, y/n. Moan my name.” He demanded right in your ear, spanking you twice on the same cheek. 

“Harry.” You cried out, feeling him smile in satisfaction at how pretty you took the pain. So he spanked you again and again as you moaned loudly into the air. 

“That’s it… Good girl. You’re taking it so well…” Harry gritted out, spanking your ass roughly while tightening his hand in your hair. You whined at the sting of your scalp, nearly sobbing at how fast and hard he was fucking into you. “S’like you were made for me, y/n. Just made for my fucking cock.”

He was fucking you so hard, so fucking good that the table kept etching forward and forward. Harry had to keep readjusting his footing and his grip on your hair. He combed his fingers through your hair and wrapped it around his fist, tugging hard when the table slipped forward again. 

But he was persistent and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved. 

“Y’sounds so damn pretty moaning my name, baby. Fucking love how sweet you sound.” 

His words elicited a moan; a filthy pretty moan only exaggerated when he tugged your hair harder. “You’re so big. So good.” You cried, “loveyourcock.”

You were addicted to the way he fucked you, even just the way he felt stretching you out but keeping completely still. It felt like you could almost reach an orgasm just like this with no clit stimulation at all which never happened. Nowadays it was your vibrator or nothing and now here you were one orgasm down and another so damn close. 

Still, you needed your clit touched and you couldn’t really reach it this way. 

The table etched forward once more and right as he pulled back to thrust into you again, the table slid forward making him slip out completely. He effortlessly slid himself back into you to continue, but when it happened a second then a third time you couldn’t help but giggle. Even through the deep pleasure and hazy mind, it was funny. 

“Fuck.” He cursed when his cock bumped against your ass cheek instead of where he actually wanted to be. He tapped it against your clit before grinding there, watching you squirm and let out a choked gasp through your light laugh. 

“I think we may need to switch rooms.” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at him while panting as you desperately tried to catch your breath. He had let go of your hair for a moment, planning on trying to continue until you suggested moving things elsewhere.

Truth be told, Harry jerked one out before you came. He didn’t plan the evening around having sex with you and would’ve been okay if nothing happened at all, but his cock couldn’t control itself around you. Just your presence and your scent could get him hard in no time so he tried to fuck the frustration out before you even got there.

He was glad he did so too because now that he was in the middle of feeling your sweet sweet cunt, he had a lot more stamina going onto his second orgasm. He could have you riding him through two more orgasms before needing to cum himself and fuck did he want to experience you squirting right on his dick. 

“I think so.” He breathed through a laugh and ran his hand through his hair, “c’mere.”

“Mh.” You agreed, standing up on shaky legs and sore hips. Harry grabbed you straight away and helped you turn around to face him. He cupped your face with one hand to guide your mouth to his, deepening it effortlessly while tucking his hands under your thighs so you could jump up and wrap your legs around him. 

You were slightly shaky in his arms, sensitive as he placed you gently on the floor in front of his bed. He broke the kiss to look at you for a moment, panting heavily while brushing his nose against yours. There was something about the look in his eyes that had you crumbling inside. They were soft and almost loving; so full of yearning and desire that you were almost scared to look back. It was overwhelming.

Harry danced his fingers down your neck and shoulder to your arm where the strap of your bra had fallen. Every touch was making you shiver and only causing that ache between your thighs to grow. You felt empty. Cold without his cock inside you. 

“Take this off. I want to see you.” Harry murmured, searching your eyes while waiting for you to nod before he kissed you once more and climbed onto his bed. He shuffled backwards until he was against his headboard, legs wide and cock hard and waiting for you to climb back onto him. 

He never stopped looking at you. Never stopped watching even as he wrapped his own hand around his cock and gave himself a few tugs to the sight of your body becoming bare for him. The prettiest of prettiest lingerie on planet Earth couldn’t compare to the sight of a womans naked body. Your bare, naked body. The soft peaks of your breasts and the way they fell naturally without a bra. The dip of your hips and tummy without the confides of lace. It was glorious. 

Harry could barely contain himself.

“You’re a vision.” Harry awed, jaw clenching like he was trying to control himself from dragging you onto the bed and pinning you down. 

“So are you.” You whispered while crawling towards him on the bed. You let your hands glide up his thighs once you were situated between them, taking the time to look over every inch of his naked body. You were in awe to put it simply and so goddamn attracted to him you were worried sex would never be the same afterwards. 

Because it wasn’t just the pleasure. It was the chemistry. The eye contact. The fact you two had a laugh about him thrusting against your ass cheek instead of inside of you because his table couldn’t handle the pressure. The way you could have that laugh just minutes ago and be back to this. The firey eye contact and his trembling thighs underneath your palms. 

“Can I have a taste…” You breathed, licking your lips at the sight of his cock up against his stomach. From this angle he looked even bigger than before and knowing he was just inside you… fuck. You could barely breathe. “Please?”

Harry groaned and wrapped his hand loosely around your neck, only applying light pressure right beneath your jaw. “Just a little, y/n. For now the only place I want to come is with you coming around me.” 

If only he was bare inside you…

“Okay… just a taste, H.” You nodded, pressing harder against his palm. You wrapped your palm around his cock, loving the sight of his jaw clenching at the touch. “Can I take this off?” You asked, rubbing over his head at the condom. 

“Yeah, baby. Take it off.”

Harry was going to lose his fucking mind. 

You were quick to pull off the condom then wasted no time in dipping down and licking a fat stripe from balls to tip on the underside of him. Harry groaned and collected your hair in his hand so he could see your face. Your eyes fluttered closed at the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue. 

He was warm and heavy and you could taste yourself right at the base of his cock where your arousal dripped down. You made sure to clean it all up with your tongue, lapping at it while looking at Harry to watch his reaction. He could barely contain himself and with every lick his hand flexed in your hair like he was trying to control himself. 

“You can guide me. I like it when I choke.” You murmured, spitting directly onto his tip before sliding it into your mouth to spread it with your tongue. 

“God, you’re going to be the end of me.” He groaned, hand tightening in your hair with purpose. Harry reached for your spare hand, intertwining your fingers while pulling your mouth off him for a moment. You were like jelly in his hands, compliant as he instructed you to squeeze his hand once if you were okay and twice if he was too rough or you needed a break. More than happy with that arrangement, you agreed and squeezed his hand in preparation for him to guide your mouth down. 

He started to gently maneuver your mouth up and down his length, starting shallow at first before going deeper until he felt the tightness of your throat around him. You choked ever so slightly but squeezed his hand once and enjoyed the feeling of his cock twitch down your throat. 

“Look at me…” Harry breathed, forcing your eyes on his. “That’s it… fuck.” 

The sight had him gasping and moving your mouth over his cock faster. Your pretty little eyes all glistened with tears… God the sight was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. And the way you just took his cock without complaint and even moaned when you gagged around him… it was like you were made for him.

The feeling of his cock filling your throat was like nothing else. There was just something about choking on a man’s dick that got you all squirmy inside. You had always been a relationship girl and a bit of a ‘late bloomer’ according to those who thought losing your virginity in your early 20s was the biggest sin of the century, but that didn’t mean you were inexperienced. 

Your first serious relationship exposed you to things you had always wanted to try. A world of kinks and things you weren’t sure you’d like until you tried them, others you were certain you’d hate until you found out you didn’t. You always considered yourself lucky to have a guy introduce you to sex and provide an environment where you could not only lose your virginity, but experiment without any shame or constraints.

Funny how you ended up married to your next serious relationship after him to a guy who had no interest in anything remotely more exciting than a spank and a sporadic hair pull. You loved Carson enough to be happy with vanilla but fulfilling sex. It wasn’t like it didn’t have any passion, because it did, it just didn’t have this.

What Harry managed to provide you on your first night together (a night far from over as well) Carson couldn’t give you in six years of being together. You weren’t sure you could go back to your old sex life. Not now. 

“You look so hot like this.” You gasped, pulling off to breathe while jacking him off with your spare hand. Your other was still intertwined with one his and you had no plans of changing that. “I love having your cock in my mouth, Harry…” you moaned, reaching in to lick his length once more. “Feels so good.”

“Jesus.” Harry groaned, tensing his hand in your hair. “You’re doing so well, y/n. Such a good little cock sucker, aren’t you?” 

You moaned filthily at his degrade, letting him slide you back down over his cock. Your whole body was on fire. Even with only a little hand holding and hair tugging, you were beyond turned on and empty between your legs. The sight of him was just so beyond sexy, almost too sexy for you to handle. 

His chest was heaving and glistening with sweat. With every pant or moan his abs would contract and his thighs would tremble on either side of your shoulders. You wanted to see him cum so bad. You wanted to watch his jaw contract and his mouth part as he moaned your name. 

“You’re gonna make me cum, y/n.” He warned in this almost whine of a tone. “Need to cum inside you.” 

“I want it in my mouth. Wanna taste you.” You practically pleaded, tapping his tip against your tongue. 

“You’re incredible…” Harry groaned, using his hand on your hair to pull you up towards his mouth. He kissed you hungrily, angling your head in the direction he wanted so he could deepen it. “But…” he panted, breaking just to say that one word before kissing you once more, “I need to…” he nibbled on your lip and grabbed onto the back of your thighs, "… feel you around me when I come.” 

You whimpered as he dragged you in a straddle and pressed your wet cunt directly over his cock in a slow deliberate grind. Fucking hell. You just wanted to slip him in, to feel him bare inside you until you were full of his cum. 

But you couldn’t. And the fact you were half considering letting it happen on your very first sexual experience out of your marriage was insane. It scared you. 

“Condom.” You uttered against his mouth, tugging on his hair ever so slightly. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” He breathed, barely able to concentrate when you dragged your mouth along his jaw and neck. Harry reached for his bedside table and grabbed another condom from the top drawer, returning quickly to kiss you again while blindly unwrapping it. 

But it was like Harry was stuttering. Fumbling to do something as simple as putting a condom on his own cock. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your mouth was so sweet and erotic, nibbling at his bottom lip until all he could think about was how to hold his breath indefinitely so he could kiss you forever. 

And you were growing impatient. The few seconds delay in his movements had you so desperate you leaned back to breathe, took the condom from his hand and rolled it down on his cock in one swift motion. 

“Fuck me, baby.” This time it was Harry’s time to plead. He wound his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, panting into your open mouth as you guided him to your entrance and dropped down on him once more. 

His cock felt so much bigger from this angle and he felt deeper too even though he was just fucking you so hard his dining room table couldn’t handle the force. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t control the loud whine flooding into his mouth when your clit hit his pubic bone. Or maybe it was because this position was far more intimate than being bent over. 

“You’re so big… feels bigger like this.” You gasped, lulling your head back while grabbing his shoulders for balance so you could start bouncing on him and getting a good rhythm going. 

“I know…” he cooed, squeezing your hips before spanking you quickly. “Show me how much you need it, huh?” Leaning in, Harry ran his mouth along your exposed neck, panting between little bites and licks on your skin, “show me how good m’cock makes you feel.” 

"Love your cock," You whined, already feeling the ache in your thighs as you picked up the speed.

Harry wrapped one arm around you and hugged you tighter while pressing the fingers of his spare hand directly to your clit. And with every bounce, every grind, his fingers stimulated right where you needed it the most. You were already so full with him and now he was giving you the cherry on top so you could finish.

"More... more, please. Need it harder."

"Need it harder?" Harry taunted, hiking his legs up on his feet in a wide position on the bed so he had enough stability to thrust up into you. "Like that?" He chuckled at your cry, squeezing your body in his arm so you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

"Yeah... yeah. Fuck!" you practically sobbed, unable to do anything but grab his hair or shoulders and just take how hard he was fucking into you. His legs were strong and while you were a sobbing, breathless mess above him, Harry wasn't losing momentum at all.

He was sweaty and panting but he never stopped thrusting up into you. At least that's what it felt like. While you gave up and begged for more, Harry was more than happy to take over and give you a fucking you'd never forget.

He thrived being in control. You could tell.

"That's it, y/n. You're taking it so fucking well, y'know that. Just sitting there and taking it like the good little slut you are. My fucking slut..." Harry cooed, dipping down to tug at your nipple. "Got me so fucking close, pretty girl. Just need you to come f'me."

Between his words and lips on your breast... his fingers pressed to your clit and the way his cock was bruising your insides, you couldn't hold on any longer.

“God, Harry. ‘M gonna cum” You cried, trying to warn him of the deep churning in your belly and the trembling in your toes.

"Look at me." He demanded, sliding his hand up into your hair to force your head in his direction. Your eyes fluttered open but despite your vision already hazy, you could clearly see the way his eyes were hooded, pupils wide and hungry. "That's it. Look at me while you cum, baby. Let me see how pretty you look."

Harry pressed his forehead to yours, opened mouths panting and brushed against one another. He watched closely when your mouth gaped wide and your eyes struggled to keep open as your orgasm hit. The way your brows furrowed and your entire body trembled on top of him and he could feel his lap and lower belly become soaked in your release.

It was glorious.

"Good girl." He praised, "Fuck. Fuck!" His words turned to mush when he reached his own orgasm and somehow even pulled you tighter against him so he could feel every inch of your soft skin.

Coming down was all open-mouthed kisses and laboured breaths and this distinct feeling that everything had changed. You two could never go back to casual and you most certainly couldn't look at yourself or your husband the same way ever again.

"I feel bad you only came once." You practically pouted, grabbing another spoonful of pudding to feed it to Harry. "It doesn't really seem fair."

What did seem fair, though, was finishing off the dessert neither of you ate after your intense workout. You were quite enjoying feeding a naked Harry delicious sugary puddings and it just felt morally wrong to leave the dessert sitting there when it was the perfect bridge between round one and two.

"Trust me. I'm more than satisfied." Harry chuckled once swallowing the delicious dessert. He dragged his fingers over your hip, loving how his t-shirt fit your frame. It was so casual and sexy. His clothes had never looked better.

"Well, I hope you're not tired because I'm not and I think I'd like to test your 27-year-old stamina." you shrugged casually, eating the last bite of the sticky date pudding.

"Oh really?" Harry raised his brow and gently took the spoon from your fingers to set them down on the plate. "Two orgasms wasn't enough for you?" He teased, moving the plate out of the way so he could cup your face and gently guide you down onto the bed.

"Mh mh." You shook your head with a smile and clasped your hands around the back of his neck while he adjusted your body to hover over you. "I think at least four..." you curled your leg around his hip and dug your heel right into the pudginess of his bum, "and I wouldn't mind a bit more effort put into making my ass red. You did promise that, didn't you?"

"More effort, huh?" He smirked and grabbed onto the underside of your jaw with a firm grip to pin you to the bed. "You've got no idea what you just started, little girl."

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[freedomfireflies]

You Again*

Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.

Word Count: 11.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.

Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.

"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 

He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.

Of him.

His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 

And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.

It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.

It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 

But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.

He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.

Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.

And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.

"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"

His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."

"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"

"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”

His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."

You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."

"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"

"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."

"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”

You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”

“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”

“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.

But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.

"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."

He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"

"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”

He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”

"Good."

He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”

"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."

"Not annoying. Cute."

"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”

“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”

You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."

He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."

A beat.

You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."

He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”

"I see."

"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."

You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."

The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.

You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.

Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.

Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.

When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”

"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."

"Like...this?"

"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”

“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”

He glances down at his lap. “Right.”

There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.

“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”

He smirks. “Oh, not much.”

“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”

“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."

He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”

“Sure.” 

“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”

“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."

"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."

"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"

"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."

His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"

"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."

"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."

He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."

"You're not...what?"

"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."

"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"

"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."

"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"

He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."

"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"

He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”

And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.

"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."

He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."

You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"

"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."

"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."

"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."

His head tilts. "With me?"

"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."

He nods. "Right."

"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”

"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."

"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."

He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 

When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 

"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."

You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."

His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"

You smile. "Yeah."

The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.

You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.

You wonder why.

Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.

He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.

And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.

But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.

"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”

He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."

"What do you mean?"

"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."

You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.

You wonder if you actually want him to.

You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.

"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."

Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."

The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."

With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.

The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 

Like something is missing.

You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"

He's back.

Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.

"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."

You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”

He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”

And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.

So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."

"Like...?"

"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."

Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?

"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."

You swallow.

He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."

And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.

But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"

He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.

Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.

Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.

And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?

"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."

You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"

"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"

"Do what? Flirt with you?"

His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"

"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"

"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"

"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"

"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”

"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"

"But not this—"

"Why not?"

"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”

And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.

"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."

He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"

"Why—"

"Because it's not right—"

"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"

His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"

"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"

He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."

"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"

"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"

"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"

"Try what?"

"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."

He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.

And it feels right.

Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."

You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.

The way he wrestles with you.

You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.

But right now, all you feel is disappointment.

"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”

Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.

Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.

Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”

Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.

You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.

So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.

You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.

He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 

He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.

And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.

You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.

But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.

He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."

You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."

But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."

"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”

Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”

"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."

Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.

"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”

You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”

He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”

"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"

"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"

"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"

His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.

He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."

"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"

"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.

"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"

The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

You feel him smile.

"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.

Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.

But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.

"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 

You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.

"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.

The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.

Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."

He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.

His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 

You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 

Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.

"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"

You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.

"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"

You give him another nod.

He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."

You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.

"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."

You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"

"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."

But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.

You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.

Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.

Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.

Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.

His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.

"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 

He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"

Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.

"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."

And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.

But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"

Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.

His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"

For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.

You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"

"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."

Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.

"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.

With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."

He perks up. "Yeah?"

You nod faintly. 

"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."

Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.

And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.

But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.

For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.

"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"

Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."

His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"

You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.

Then...you flip the switch.

The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.

You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.

And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.

There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.

"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."

Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.

So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.

You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.

And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.

A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.

You hear Harry chuckle. 

"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"

"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."

"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."

Your head lifts.

He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"

You nod.

Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 

Then...he begins.

It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 

Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 

But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.

Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.

He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."

"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."

"What, little one? What do you want?"

"I need...please, I'm..."

"What? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"

More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."

He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 

And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.

Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 

"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."

Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"

"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"

You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.

Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."

"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"

"...two."

He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"

To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 

"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"

"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"

The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.

"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"

You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.

"Har...Har—"

"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.

"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"

"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"

You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."

"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.

"I...wait, what was the question again?"

He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.

And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.

"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

Your breath hitches. "No."

The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 

"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 

"No."

"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"

"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.

His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.

A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.

He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"

Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 

He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.

"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."

And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 

Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.

Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.

But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.

Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.

He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.

He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.

Everything about him is beautiful and good.

His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 

You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.

Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.

"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"

You nod, despite his hold.

"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."

You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 

Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.

But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.

He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.

You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.

"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 

But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.

Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.

He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.

You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.

"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"

You nod and lean forward another inch.

"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."

He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.

You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.

You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.

However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.

"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."

"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."

"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."

You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."

With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.

He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.

And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.

"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"

You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 

"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"

"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."

Your heart flutters.

"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."

"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."

"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."

Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 

Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.

"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.

He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.

"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 

He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.

"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.

At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.

Then...he goes deeper. 

And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.

You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.

"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."

"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 

"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.

“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”

He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.

However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.

"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 

But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."

But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.

"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"

A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.

Not that you'd mind.

His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.

"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"

You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 

But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”

You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.

"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."

"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.

But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.

"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."

You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.

But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.

And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.

But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 

And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.

Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 

There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.

But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.

Beneath him.

"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"

"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"

"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 

"Sir—"

"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"

"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"

"Then what are you going to do?"

You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."

A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."

However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.

"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"

"Yes, Yes, please…"

"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"

"God, yes. More...please—"

"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"

Suddenly, your phone rings.

The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.

God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.

Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 

"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"

"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."

"Harry, please—"

"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."

His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 

"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"

You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.

Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"

"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"

Your eyes just about pop out of your head.

Atta.

Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.

"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 

But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.

"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"

"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.

You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 

However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."

"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"

"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.

You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.

However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.

"—so, yeah. What about you?"

Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."

Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.

Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.

"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."

That's not the only thing he's in. 

"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"

"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"

"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."

He grins.

"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.

"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.

Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 

"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."

"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."

Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 

"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"

"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 

Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.

"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"

"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”

"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"

"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"

It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.

Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.

"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"

Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.

It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.

You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 

Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.

And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.

Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.

But until then…

You’re happy to have your Harry back.

~ Masterlist

Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21

@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds

@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs

@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus

@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics

[purplecoffee13]

Cross The Line*

Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”

Wc: 13k

Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N

Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗

A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘

General Masterlist

HEADER = POV change

Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.

At least, he’s always thought it is.

Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.

Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.

When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.

Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.

Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.

He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.

And she had been absolutely right.

Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.

They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.

No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.

Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.

The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...

He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.

"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.

"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.

"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.

"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.

"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.

Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."

The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.

"When?"

Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”

"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"

"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.

Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.

He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.

Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.

The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.

By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.

He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.

Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.

He just doesn't know how to behave instead.

"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I  know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.

"What?"

"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“

"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.

Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.

"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.

"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."

At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.

"So... we're good?"

"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.

"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.

"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.

That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.

The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.

Harry loudly shuts the door.

The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.

"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.

"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.

"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.

"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.

Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.

"A Thousand Zombies

By Jason Longwell."

Right, Jason, that was his name.

"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.

"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.

"W— what?" He stumbles.

"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.

"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.

"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.

"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.

"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."

"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.

"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?

Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"

"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.

"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"

"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.

"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.

So much for going back to normal.

Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something.  But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.

Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.

It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.

He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.

"It's just a date—"

"Your second date!"

Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.

"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.

"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.

"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."

"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.

Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.

A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.

He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.

"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.

"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.

"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."

Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.

"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.

"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.

"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.

He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.

"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"

"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.

Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.

"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."

Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.

And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.

He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.

"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.

"You said we were good."

His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.

"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.

"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.

"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.

"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.

"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."

The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears

"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.

Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.

"What's going on?"

Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."

Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.

"Y/N—"

"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."

Wait, no.

That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?

Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.

His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.

At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.

Everything is going wrong.

Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.

First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.

It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.

But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.

Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.

But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.

'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.

It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.

Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.

And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.

If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault. 

She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.

Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.

She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.

So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.

She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.

When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.

"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"

Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.

"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?

A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.

"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.

"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."

She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."

"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.

"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.

"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"

"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.

"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.

"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.

"Y/N..." he warns.

"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.

Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.

"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.

"I really have to go."

Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."

Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."

"Yes I do." Harry argues.

"You really don't."

"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.

"No!" She is quick to protest.

"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.

"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.

"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."

She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."

Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"

"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."

"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.

"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.

"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.

It's not your fault.

That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?

"You revise every contract, don't you?"

Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.

"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.

For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.

The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.

"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.

"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.

"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.

"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.

"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.

Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.

Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.

The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.

"I think I'm jealous."

Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.

"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.

"Of whoever gets to take care of you."

Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.

"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.

"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.

And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.

Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.

With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.

Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.

But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.

Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.

"We've arrived."

Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.

Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.

"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.

"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."

Harry nods.

"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.

"You have to... what?"

"To... I have to—"

"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.

Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.

"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."

His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.

It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.

"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.

"Nothing. Just admiring you."

At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.

Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.

Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.

It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.

Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.

She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?

Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.

"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.

"I only have white wine."

Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."

Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.

"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.

"To the unexpected."

They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.

"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."

There it is.

She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.

"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.

"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.

"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"I know, but I could have—"

Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.

"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."

Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."

Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.

"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.

"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."

Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."

"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."

He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.

His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.

"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.

"I called you sir."

Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."

Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"

His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.

Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.

"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.

"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.

"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.

"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.

"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.

"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."

Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.

Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.

Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.

Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.

Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.

Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.

"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.

She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."

Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."

"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.

"On your stomach."

Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.

"Hands behind your back."

Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.

Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.

"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.

Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.

But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.

"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.

"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.

Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.

Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.

"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."

Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.

"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.

He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.

Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more. 

"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.

"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.

"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.

"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."

Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.

"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"

Oh my god.

"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.

"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.

His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.

She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.

Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.

"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.

"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.

"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.

Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.

The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.

The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.

When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.

"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.

"Promise?"

Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.

"Promise." You say with a smile.

General taglist: @mema10

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAKE HER REGRET IT

A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago. 

You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child. 

Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles. 

It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor. 

“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks. 

“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent. 

Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason. 

You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe. 

When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much. 

The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery. 

“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts. 

Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him. 

“What’s up?”

“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”

Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside. 

“Do tell me.”

Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter. 

“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”

“When will the part where I can help come?”

“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”

You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him. 

“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”

The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much. 

“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing. 

“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”

“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide. 

“Y-You will do it?”

“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell. 

When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever. 

“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”

“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.

“Sorry, yeah come inside.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with. 

“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”

“I have.”

“Really?”

“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”

“Then… I trust you with anything.”

“What’s the goal?”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind. 

“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”

“I want to make her regret it.”

“Regret what she said?”

“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises. 

“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly. 

At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation. 

And then the bell rings. 

“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again. 

You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you. 

“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up. 

“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable. 

“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”

Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well. 

“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it. 

“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”

“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”

“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues. 

“That’s none of my business.”

“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”

“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.

Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here. 

“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.

“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”

“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”

It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature. 

“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”

She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her. 

And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts. 

“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.

“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”

“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”

“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything. 

You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost. 

“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move. 

Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily. 

It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses. 

And then you remember you’re not alone. 

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it. 

“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.

“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly. 

Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned. 

“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you. 

Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.

“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”

The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his. 

Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like. 

“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast. 

“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door. 

“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”

He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit. 

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars. 

You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before. 

You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone. 

You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is. 

“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining. 

Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time. 

When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing. 

“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”

“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly. 

“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.

“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before. 

“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.

“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now. 

“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard. 

There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work. 

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words. 

“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge. 

Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you. 

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”

You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. 

When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble. 

Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”

Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss. 

“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”

“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

It’s You

Where Y/N’s chaotic energy clashes with her grumpy, tattooed neighbor, her mission to get on his good side turns into stolen glances, quiet moments, and a connection she never expected.

Au Harry

Word count: 13,395

Content warning: Cursing, smut, alcohol.

The warm glow of string lights illuminated Y/N’s cozy Los Angeles apartment as the sound of laughter filled the air. The small space was a mix of bohemian chic and personal touches—a gallery wall of polaroids, a cluttered coffee table covered with open bags of snacks, and a few empty wine bottles standing like trophies from their earlier indulgence.

Y/N flopped back onto the couch, a glass of red wine in hand, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and nonstop giggling. Her two best friends, Harper and Lila, sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking on popcorn and chips, fully embracing the childlike joy of their adult sleepover.

“This feels so right,” Y/N said, her voice slightly tipsy. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

“Because we’re responsible adults now, remember?” Harper teased, adjusting her oversized hoodie. “Nine-to-five, bills, and pretending we know what we’re doing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lila quipped, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “I’m thriving in my chaos era.”

Y/N snorted, and Harper rolled her eyes with an affectionate grin. Lila was the wild card of the group, always coming up with unpredictable ideas. And she didn’t disappoint tonight.

“You know what we should do?” Lila suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Karaoke.”

“Yes!” Harper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, yes. Do you still have that mic we bought for New Year’s Eve?”

Y/N groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her fake reluctance. “You mean the mic that nearly got us evicted? Of course, I still have it.”

Lila grinned wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s wake up the entire building with our stunning renditions of 2000s throwbacks.”

Without waiting for further approval, Lila dashed to the hall closet and pulled out the karaoke mic, triumphantly waving it in the air. Harper grabbed her phone, already scrolling through a playlist.

“You’re starting,” Harper declared, pointing the mic at Y/N.

“What? No!” Y/N laughed, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m not ready!”

“Too bad,” Lila said, shoving the mic into Y/N’s hands. “You can’t escape destiny. Pick your song.”

Y/N sighed theatrically before smirking. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when your ears bleed.”

As Y/N queued up Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, the room erupted in cheers. The first few notes played, and soon enough, Y/N was belting out the lyrics with unrestrained enthusiasm, her friends joining in for the chorus. It didn’t matter that they were slightly off-key; in that moment, they were superstars in their own private concert.

Wine glasses were forgotten, snacks spilled, and every lyric was sung at full volume. It was the kind of night they’d remember for years—a reminder that no matter how grown-up they pretended to be, some things never lost their magic.

The girls were in full swing, harmonizing (poorly) to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Lila stood on the couch holding the mic as if she were performing at Madison Square Garden, while Harper played air guitar with a half-empty wine bottle. Y/N was doubled over in laughter, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Just as they hit the iconic, “Tell me why—” part, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through their drunken fun like a record scratch. The girls froze, their voices trailing off mid-note. Y/N straightened up, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Harper and Lila.

“Uh… did someone order pizza?” Lila whispered, her voice unsure.

“Nope,” Y/N said, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

With a mix of nerves and annoyance, Y/N padded to the door. She peered through the peephole and groaned. It was her new neighbor, Harry. She’d only exchanged a polite “hello” with him in passing, but he’d already struck her as the brooding, grumpy type.

Bracing herself, she opened the door.

There he stood: tall, disheveled hair pushed back in a lazy attempt at taming it, wearing a faded gray hoodie and black joggers. His sharp green eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed face and the muffled chaos behind her.

“Good evening,” he started, his British accent dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying your concert tonight. It’s like living next door to a live music venue. Only… worse.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by his dry humor. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that. We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”

Harry crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I figured. Thought I’d come over before I lost the ability to hear entirely.”

From behind her, Lila’s voice chimed in drunkenly. “Is it a noise complaint? Tell him to sing with us!”

Y/N turned and shot Lila a glare. Harper muffled a laugh.

Y/N sighed and looked back at Harry. “We’ll keep it down. Promise.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching into the faintest smirk, though his tone remained gruff. “Appreciated. Just… try not to turn it into a full-on festival.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Y/N couldn’t help herself. “You know, you could’ve just sent a passive-aggressive text or something.”

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, one brow arched. “I thought this had more impact.”

And then he was gone.

Y/N closed the door, leaning her forehead against it for a moment. When she turned around, Lila and Harper were staring at her like she’d just walked off the set of a rom-com.

“Um, who was that?” Lila asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Harry. My new neighbor,” Y/N replied, walking back to the couch.

“And Mr. Grumpy Pants is cute,” Harper added, grinning.

Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute and cranky. Now can we please move on before you two start planning a love story?”

But the mischievous glint in her friends’ eyes told her they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.

The karaoke mic had been put away, and the girls now lounged in the cozy living room, passing a bottle of wine between them. The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed, but the energy was still warm and lively. Lila was sprawled on the couch with her legs dangling over Harper’s lap, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from her glass.

“I mean, let’s just talk about him for a second,” Lila began, her voice dramatic. “The mopey neighbor with the accent? And did you see those tattoos? They were peeking out, Y/N. He’s giving mysterious bad boy energy.”

Y/N groaned, her cheeks warming instantly. “Oh my God, Lila. He was literally just here to tell us to shut up.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Harper chimed in, grinning. “He has that whole ‘I’m grumpy but secretly charming’ vibe. Like, did you see the way he smirked when he made that little joke?”

Y/N tried to hide her flustered reaction by taking another sip of wine, but she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. She’d noticed too—his smirk, his sharp jawline, the tattoos curling up his forearm, just barely visible under his hoodie sleeves. She’d noticed everything.

“I mean, he’s okay, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, keeping her tone nonchalant.

“Okay?” Lila shot up, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re lying. You’re the worst liar ever.”

“Shut up,” Y/N said, laughing as she buried her face in her hands. “Fine, he’s cute. So what? He’s also my neighbor, and he’s probably annoyed with me forever now.”

“He’s not annoyed,” Harper said, nudging her with her foot. “If he were, he wouldn’t have made the effort to come over himself. He would’ve sent an email to management or something. He wanted an excuse to see you.”

“Right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Because nothing’s more attractive than a drunk girl singing Backstreet Boys at full volume.”

“Exactly!” Lila exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “You’re memorable. He’ll never forget you now.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Harper said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I bet he thinks you’re cute too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly changed the subject. But as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the image of Harry standing in her doorway, his messy hair, his smirk, and those tattoos. Maybe her friends weren’t entirely wrong.

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Y/N’s apartment, illuminating the chaos left behind from the night before. Wine glasses, half-eaten snacks, and the abandoned karaoke mic were scattered around the living room. The girls were tangled up in blankets, sprawled across the couch and the floor like a scene from a sitcom.

Y/N was the first to stir, groaning as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Harper was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow over her head, while Lila lay on the floor in a makeshift nest of cushions, one arm dramatically draped over her face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Y/N teased, nudging Lila with her foot.

Lila groaned. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal to be this alive right now.”

Harper peeked out from under her pillow, her voice muffled. “What time is it? Do we even have the energy to exist today?”

“Barely,” Y/N replied, standing and stretching. “But I’m starving, so I’m making breakfast. Come help me.”

Harper and Lila grumbled but eventually dragged themselves up and into the kitchen, where Y/N was already cracking eggs into a bowl. Together, they whipped up a chaotic but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mountain of coffee.

The girls sat around the small dining table, eating in comfortable silence at first. Then Lila broke the quiet with a wicked grin.

“So… Harry.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Not again.”

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Lila said, smirking. “Next time we do this, we should make it even louder. Really make him come back over.”

Harper snorted into her coffee. “Yes! Like, full-blown karaoke night but with amps and disco lights.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are the worst.”

“But you love us,” Harper said, nudging her with an elbow.

After breakfast, the girls cleaned up and packed their things before heading out. Harper hugged Y/N tightly. “We definitely need to do this again.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Louder next time. You know, for research purposes.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she walked them to the door. “You’re both insane, but I love you. Drive safe.”

Once they were gone, Y/N flopped onto the couch and opened their group chat. Almost immediately, messages started flooding in.

Lila: Next sleepover, let’s bring a fog machine. If Harry shows up, we’ll just act like it’s a concert.

Harper: Or we could rent a spotlight. Make it an event

Y/N: You guys are unbelievable. No more wine for you next time.

Lila: Admit it, you want him to show up again.

Y/N: …maybe.

Harper: KNEW IT.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her phone, her cheeks warming yet again. As ridiculous as her friends were, they weren’t entirely wrong.

The day passed in a blur of cleaning and tidying as Y/N tried to get her apartment back to its usual organized state. By the time the sun started to dip low in the sky, the chaos from the night before had been erased, leaving her apartment looking like a picture of calm domesticity. Feeling accomplished, Y/N decided to check her mailbox before settling in for a quiet evening.

She padded down to the mailroom in her building, dressed in a casual but presentable outfit—high-waisted jeans and a simple white top. As she rifled through the usual junk mail and a couple of bills, the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention.

Glancing to the side, she saw Harry walking in, his hoodie replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His tattoos were on full display now—intricate designs that wound up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. He barely glanced at her as he moved to his mailbox, unlocking it with practiced ease.

Y/N swallowed her nerves and decided to seize the moment. It was better to make a proper introduction now than to let the awkwardness from last night linger. Turning slightly toward him, she cleared her throat.

“Hey, neighbor,” she began, keeping her tone light. “Figured I should introduce myself officially now that I’m not, you know, half-drunk and screaming karaoke at midnight. I’m Y/N.”

Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, as he gave her a quick once-over. “Harry,” he said simply, his voice low and clipped.

Y/N bit back a grin, determined not to let his gruff demeanor throw her off. “Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry again about last night. I promise we don’t usually host impromptu concerts. Unless, of course, you’re a fan of boy band throwbacks.”

Harry let out a soft exhale that could’ve been a laugh—or just a sigh. “I’ll survive.”

Encouraged by the hint of amusement, Y/N decided to keep the conversation going. “You know, if you’re ever feeling nostalgic, you’re welcome to join us. We could use a fourth member for our extremely off-key girl group.”

Harry’s lips twitched slightly, but his expression remained mostly stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Y/N tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “You’re really hard to read, you know that? Most people at least chuckle at my jokes.”

Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and calm. “Maybe I’m just not most people.”

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. There was something almost challenging in his tone, but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it piqued her curiosity even more.

“Well, Harry,” she said finally, flashing him a bright smile. “Challenge accepted. I’ll make you laugh one of these days.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead closing his mailbox and tucking the letters under his arm. As he moved to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

“We’ll see about that.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her stack of mail and a strange mix of frustration and intrigue swirling in her chest. One thing was for sure—Harry might be grumpy, but he was far from boring.

As soon as Y/N got back to her apartment, she tossed her mail onto the counter and grabbed her phone, already smirking to herself. She opened the group chat with Harper and Lila, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Y/N:

Guess who I just ran into in the mailroom?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with replies.

Lila:

Was it… oh, I don’t know… Mr. Grumpy Hot Neighbor?

Harper:

Harry! Tell us everything right now.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, typing out her reply.

Y/N:

Yes, it was Harry. I introduced myself properly. You know, as a fully functional adult and not a drunken mess.

Lila:

And? Did he swoon? Did he drop all his mail and propose on the spot?

Harper:

Or at least crack a smile?

Y/N sighed and leaned back against the counter, smirking to herself as she typed.

Y/N:

Absolutely not. He was… well, Harry. Polite but distant. He might’ve almost smiled, but I can’t be sure.

Lila:

Ugh, he’s really sticking to the mysterious moody thing. It’s so hot. What did you say to him?

Y/N:

I told him he was hard to read and said I’d make him laugh one day.

Harper:

Bold move, I love it. What did he say?

Y/N:

He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’

Lila:

STOP. That’s basically flirting.

Harper:

Right? That’s flirty! Subtle, broody flirting.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. It wasn’t flirting. He’s just… like that.

Lila:

Y/N, this is your rom-com moment, and you’re living in denial. Grumpy guy + sunshine girl is literally a trope for a reason.

Harper:

Exactly. Next step: get him to join us for karaoke.

Y/N:

Oh, sure, because he definitely seems like the kind of guy who wants to sing ‘Toxic’ with us.

Lila:

You never know. Maybe he has a secret karaoke voice that’ll blow us all away.

Y/N laughed to herself, shaking her head. Her friends were relentless, but she couldn’t deny that their enthusiasm made her smile. As much as she tried to brush off the encounter, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head—the way Harry’s green eyes lingered just a second too long, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Y/N’s encounter with Harry in the mailroom, and she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind. Between work, friends, and her usual routine, she hadn’t bumped into him in the halls or around the building. Life went on, and the memory of his grumpy smirk became just another amusing anecdote to share with Harper and Lila.

Until one night.

Y/N was jolted awake by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Disoriented and groggy, she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over her pajama tank top. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door. The hallway was chaotic, filled with neighbors in various states of sleepiness and confusion, all heading for the exits.

Once outside, Y/N joined the crowd of residents gathering on the sidewalk. The chilly night air bit at her skin, and she crossed her arms to keep warm. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone she knew—until her eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.

It was Harry. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and he wore a hoodie over loose sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. His expression was pure exhaustion, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She made her way over, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Harry turned his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “This is… unexpected.” He waved his hand around. 

She grinned, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But hey, at least it’s the fire alarms being obnoxiously loud this time and not me.”

Harry’s lips twitched, and for a second, she thought she’d finally gotten him to crack a smile. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked dryly.

“Never,” Y/N replied, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s too good of a story.”

Harry exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a fire truck pulled up and a couple of firefighters headed inside to investigate. The air was crisp and carried a faint chill, but Y/N barely noticed. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you think it’s an actual fire?” she asked.

“Doubt it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Probably just someone burning their midnight snack.”

“Sounds like a riveting Saturday night,” Y/N joked, earning another small exhale from him.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing down at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, and Y/N could feel her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it cool.

“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “If it turns out to be a drill, I’m demanding a formal apology from management for ruining my beauty sleep.”

Harry’s lips quirked, just enough for her to notice. “I’m sure they’ll get right on that.”

For the first time, standing outside in the middle of the night with Harry didn’t feel awkward or forced. It was easy, natural even, despite his perpetually tired and broody demeanor. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe her persistence was finally wearing him down.

Before either of them could say more, a firefighter emerged from the building, shouting to the crowd that it was a false alarm. People groaned, some laughing as they shuffled back toward the entrance.

Harry pushed off the lamppost and looked at Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue.”

“Looks like it,” she said. “Catch you later, Harry.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Night, Y/N.”

As she headed back to her apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction. Sure, he was still grumpy, but she was getting closer to breaking through. And honestly, she didn’t mind the challenge.

By the time Y/N woke up the next morning, she had already drafted the text she knew Harper and Lila would demand. Still half-asleep, she grabbed her phone and opened their group chat, typing out the full story in detail.

Y/N:

So… guess who I bumped into at 3 a.m. when the fire alarm went off?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with rapid-fire responses.

Harper:

Oh my God. HARRY?

Lila:

Please tell me you were both standing there in your PJs like the meet-cute of the century.

Y/N:

 No, it wasn’t a meet-cute. We just talked. Very normal. Nothing groundbreaking.

Harper:

What did you talk about?

Y/N:

I made a joke about how this time it wasn’t me being loud, it was the fire alarm.

Lila:

YES. Classic Y/N. What did he say?

Y/N:

He just… smirked. Or sighed. I’m honestly not sure anymore. He’s so hard to read.

Harper:

Smirking counts as flirting. I’m logging it.

Lila:

Definitely flirting. He wouldn’t have smirked if he wasn’t secretly interested. Men don’t waste smirks on people they don’t like.

Y/N:

Or he was just tired and didn’t care enough to argue.

Harper:

Nope. Not buying it. He’s interested. He’s just grumpy interested.

Lila:

Exactly! Brooding types like him don’t wear their feelings on their sleeves, but trust me, he’s intrigued. You just need to keep working on him.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.

Y/N:

You two are absolutely ridiculous. We talked for five minutes, tops. Nothing more, nothing less.

Harper:

Sure, keep telling yourself that.

Lila:

Face it, Y/N. This is your slow-burn romance, and we are here for it. We’re already planning the playlist for your wedding.

Y/N:

Oh my God. I can’t with you two.

Despite her protests, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind—the way his eyes lingered on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Harper and Lila were reading too much into it… weren’t they?

Shaking her head, Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She had no intention of indulging their wild theories. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her couldn’t help but wonder. 

Y/N lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows cast by her bedside lamp on the ceiling. The city sounds outside her window were faint but constant—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of voices. She’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, her brain refusing to shut off.

It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was Harry.

It wasn’t intentional, or at least that’s what she told herself. She’d been trying to push him out of her mind all day, but now, in the stillness of the night, his image seemed to surface unbidden. The way his messy hair stuck out when she’d seen him by the mailboxes. The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, the intricate designs winding across his arms like a story she desperately wanted to read.

And then there was his face—sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to pierce through her defenses, and that faint smirk he’d given her last night when she’d cracked her fire alarm joke. It wasn’t a full smile, but it had been enough to spark something in her. Something she couldn’t quite shake.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.

But it was no use. She kept thinking about the way his voice sounded—low, calm, almost soothing in its quiet confidence. The way he seemed perpetually unimpressed but not unkind, like he was holding back a part of himself from the world. And the way, despite all that grumpiness, she felt drawn to him.

The worst part was that she barely even knew him. A few brief encounters, a handful of words exchanged—it wasn’t enough to warrant this level of overthinking. And yet, here she was, wide awake at 2 a.m., her thoughts spinning in circles around a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her at all.

She sighed, flipping onto her back again and staring at the ceiling. “You’re losing it, Y/N,” she whispered into the dark.

But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself—counting sheep, replaying her favorite movie in her head, anything—her mind kept drifting back to Harry. How frustratingly attractive he was. How much she wanted to figure him out. And how, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she kind of liked the challenge.

The next afternoon, Y/N tied her apron around her waist and stepped onto the floor of the bustling Italian restaurant where she worked. The warm scent of garlic, fresh basil, and baking bread filled the air as the sounds of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations hummed around her. It was her favorite kind of shift—steady but not overwhelming, just busy enough to keep her energized.

She loved being a server. There was something satisfying about knowing the menu by heart, from the way the chef perfectly folded the handmade ravioli to the rich, velvety tiramisu that always left customers raving. She enjoyed the rhythm of it all: taking orders, making guests laugh, weaving between tables like she was part of a well-rehearsed dance.

By the time her shift ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets. Y/N slipped her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her coworkers, and began her short walk home.

The evening was warm, the kind of weather that made her glad she’d chosen this neighborhood to live in. She liked the convenience of being close to work, the charm of the old brick buildings, and the occasional vendor selling flowers or roasted nuts on the sidewalk.

But as she rounded the last corner toward her apartment building, the sky darkened suddenly. Heavy clouds rolled in overhead, and before she could process what was happening, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

“Seriously?” Y/N muttered, looking up at the sky as if it might offer her an explanation. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a full-on downpour. She didn’t have an umbrella, of course—it had been sunny when she left for work—and now she was too far from the restaurant to go back.

She quickened her pace, pulling her bag closer to her body to shield it from the rain. Her hair was already plastered to her forehead, and her clothes clung to her as the rain soaked through. She groaned in frustration but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

By the time her apartment building came into view, she was drenched. She jogged the last stretch, her sneakers splashing in puddles, and darted toward the lobby entrance. As she reached for the door, it opened from the inside—and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry.

Of course, it was Harry.

He was holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, taking in her rain-soaked appearance.

“Rough night?” he asked, his voice dry but laced with faint amusement.

Y/N brushed a wet strand of hair out of her face, shaking water from her arms. “You could say that. Apparently, the weather decided I needed a shower.”

Harry stepped back, holding the door open for her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Thanks for the observation,” Y/N said with a wry smile as she stepped inside, water pooling around her feet. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded toward the elevators. “You should probably get upstairs before you flood the lobby.”

“Wow, you’re so thoughtful,” she teased, her sarcasm barely masking the warmth in her voice.

Harry didn’t reply, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a comment. He stepped aside, letting her pass, and as Y/N headed toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. He was still standing by the door, his attention now on the rain outside, but she could’ve sworn she caught him sneaking a glance at her as she walked away.

Y/N stepped into her apartment, water dripping onto the floor as she kicked off her soaked sneakers. She stripped off her rain-soaked clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was bliss, washing away the chill of the rain and the lingering frustration of getting caught in it. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin was warm and her mind was clearer.

Slipping into her favorite pair of soft pajamas—shorts and an oversized t-shirt—she towel-dried her hair and grabbed her phone from the counter. She hadn’t checked it since leaving work, and the screen lit up with a few notifications. Most were unimportant, but one text made her freeze.

Unknown Number:

Hey, it’s Harry. Got your number from the resident book. Hope that’s okay. I, uh, ordered way too much food. If you’re not busy and don’t mind eating with someone who’s terrible at small talk, you’re welcome to join me.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry had texted her? She stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times, unsure what to make of it. The grumpy, brooding neighbor had gone out of his way to invite her over for dinner?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say. She could easily come up with an excuse, blame the rain, or even politely decline. But something about his message—how he’d gone through the trouble of looking up her number and even made a self-deprecating joke—made her hesitate.

Finally, she started typing.

Y/N:

Hey! I’m surprised you didn’t mention how loud I was running through the lobby earlier. I’d love to join, but fair warning: I’m in my pajamas. I’ll bring wine to make up for it.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself and immediately got up to rummage through her small wine rack. She picked out a bottle of red, grabbed her favorite corkscrew, and texted him again.

Y/N:

Give me five minutes to make myself look less like a wet dog.

His response came almost instantly.

Harry:

I wouldn’t have said anything about the lobby, but now that you’ve brought it up… five minutes works. Apartment 4D.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. She quickly towel-dried her hair a little more, tossed it into a loose bun, and grabbed the wine. As she stood by her door, nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she pushed them aside.

Whatever this was—neighborly dinner, an olive branch, or something else—she was curious enough to find out.

Y/N stepped out of her apartment, the bottle of wine in hand, and made her way to the elevator. As she descended a floor, her nerves started to tingle, though she shook them off. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner with her neighbor. Her very attractive, grumpy neighbor with tattoos and a British accent. Nothing to overthink at all.

When she reached Harry’s door, she raised her hand to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Harry stood there, leaning casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised.

“I could hear you coming down the hall,” he said, his tone dry but his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

Y/N let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re happy to see me.”

“Something like that,” he replied, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N walked in, glancing around as she entered. Harry’s apartment was similar in layout to hers but had an entirely different vibe. The walls were painted a deep, moody gray, with shelves lined with books, records, and a few small plants that looked suspiciously well cared for. A guitar rested in the corner by the window, and the faint smell of takeout wafted from the small kitchen.

“Nice place,” she said, setting the wine on the counter. “Very… broody chic. Fits you.”

Harry arched a brow as he closed the door. “Broody chic? Is that a compliment?”

“Depends how you take it,” Y/N shot back with a grin.

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he moved toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I may have overestimated how much I can eat on my own.”

She followed him, glancing at the spread on the counter. There were containers of what looked like Thai food—pad thai, green curry, fried rice, and spring rolls. Definitely enough for two, if not three.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “Planning on feeding the whole building?”

“Only the loudest resident,” he said, smirking again.

She gave him a playful glare before grabbing plates from the counter and handing him one. “Lucky for you, I came prepared,” she said, holding up the wine. “This should balance things out.”

As they settled at the small table, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Harry seemed. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something softer about him tonight. Less guarded. And as they started eating, trading sarcastic comments and occasional small talk, she realized she didn’t mind the challenge of cracking through his tough exterior one bit.

Harry handed Y/N two wine glasses, their fingers brushing briefly as she took them. He didn’t say anything, but his lips moved slightly as if he was trying not to smirk. Y/N poured the wine, filling each glass just enough before sliding one over to him.

Meanwhile, he plated the food, carefully dividing the dishes between two plates. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, and Y/N found herself watching him for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking herself out of it, she grabbed her glass and followed him to the bar counter.

They sat side by side, the warm glow of the pendant light above them casting a cozy atmosphere. Y/N took a sip of her wine, her gaze flicking to Harry as he started eating in silence.

For a while, she stayed quiet, enjoying the food and the unspoken rhythm of their shared meal. But her curiosity got the better of her. Setting her glass down, she turned toward him slightly, resting her elbow on the counter.

“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “why are you always so grumpy?”

Harry paused mid-bite, his fork hovering over his plate as he looked at her. His green eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but as if he were trying to decide how serious she was.

“Grumpy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, grumpy,” she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You know, the whole emo, barely-smiling, ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense’ vibe you’ve got going on. Is it like… your thing?”

Harry leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his wine as he considered her question. “Maybe I’m not grumpy,” he said finally, his voice calm. “Maybe you’re just too… cheerful.”

“Cheerful?” she echoed, laughing softly. “That’s your explanation? I’m cheerful, so that automatically makes you grumpy?”

“Something like that,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re deflecting.”

He raised his glass, meeting her gaze over the rim as he took another sip. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning in slightly. “There’s got to be a reason. I mean, you’re not actuallymiserable all the time, are you?”

Harry sighed, setting his glass down and leaning his forearms on the counter. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he shrugged.

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, his voice quieter. “I just… don’t see the point in pretending all the time. People put on this front like everything’s great, but most of the time, it’s not. I’m just… honest about it.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something unspoken but heavy, like he was revealing more than he intended.

“Well,” she said softly, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think being happy is the same as pretending. And I’m not pretending.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply.

Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Y/N picked up her glass and raised it toward him.

“To being honest,” she said with a small smile.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her glass before he picked up his own, clinking it against hers. “To being honest,” he echoed.

And for the first time that evening, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.

Harry swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the deep red liquid for a moment before setting it down and looking at Y/N. His expression was more open now, his usual guarded demeanor softened.

“You seem nice enough,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I could use a friend around here.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Then a warm smile spread across her face.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” she said, her voice light with humor. “I thought for sure you hated me after the whole karaoke fiasco.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in amusement. “Hated you? No. Annoyed, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.”

“Good to know,” Y/N said, laughing softly. “Because I was convinced you’d written me off as the world’s loudest neighbor.”

“I’ll admit,” Harry said, smirking now, “the karaoke was… a lot. But it’s hard to hate someone who sings ‘I Want It That Way’ with that much enthusiasm.”

Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing harder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember the song. That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s unforgettable,” he said with mock seriousness, taking another sip of wine.

When her laughter died down, Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I’d be happy to be your friend. You don’t seem as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Scary?” Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘grumpy lone wolf’ thing going on. It’s a little intimidating.”

Harry shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not scary.”

“No,” Y/N said, grinning. “You’re not. You’re just… Harry.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he nodded, his tone soft but certain. “Yeah. Just Harry.”

As they continued eating, the conversation grew lighter, the initial tension between them fading into something comfortable. By the time they finished their meal, Y/N realized that beneath Harry’s gruff exterior was someone she genuinely wanted to know better. And judging by the way his smirk had softened into something warmer, she suspected he felt the same.

After finishing their plates, Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his forearm on the bar counter as he glanced at Y/N. There was a comfortable silence between them, one she hadn’t expected when she first showed up at his door.

“Thanks for coming over,” he said finally, his tone quieter but sincere. “I don’t usually… do this.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, swirling her wine in her glass. “What? Order too much food or invite people over?”

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “The second one. I’m not exactly the ‘neighborly dinner’ type.”

“Well, I feel special then,” she teased, tilting her head at him. “Although, if you’re not usually this social, why’d you invite me? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

Harry shrugged, glancing down at his glass. “You seemed… different. I don’t know. Most people I meet just seem fake, like they’re putting on a show. But you’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Real.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words. “Oh,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, thanks. I think.”

“I mean it,” Harry added, looking at her directly now. “You’re… not what I expected when I moved here. In a good way.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she tried to play it off with humor. “Careful, Harry. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

“Don’t push it,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes were softer than usual.

They fell into another comfortable silence, sipping their wine and letting the moment stretch out. Y/N felt herself relax more with each passing second, realizing how easy it was to be around him now that some of his walls had come down.

After a moment, she broke the quiet. “You know, for someone who claims not to be social, you’re pretty good company.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she said, her grin widening. “You should let yourself be social more often. You might surprise yourself.”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “One step at a time.”

They shared a small laugh, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point. Whatever Harry had been holding back before, he was letting her in now, even if only a little. It felt… nice.

Eventually, she glanced at her phone and realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably head back,” she said, setting her empty wine glass down. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Harry stood as she got up, shaking his head. “You haven’t. But… thanks for coming. I mean it.”

She smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Anytime, Harry.”

As she walked to the door, he followed her, leaning casually against the frame as she turned back to face him. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice lighter now.

“Night, Y/N,” he replied, his smirk returning.

She headed back to her apartment, her heart unexpectedly lighter. Maybe Harry wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed—or maybe she was just getting used to it. Either way, she found herself smiling as she closed her door behind her. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overthinking anything.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight filtering through her blinds and a faint smile lingering on her lips. The night before with Harry had been… unexpected, but not in a bad way. She stretched, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately opened her group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

So, guess what? Harry invited me over for dinner last night.

It didn’t take long for her phone to explode with notifications.

Lila:

WHAT. DETAILS NOW.

Harper:

DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite being alone.

Y/N:

No, I didn’t sleep with him. Calm down.

Lila:

Boring. But continue.

Harper:

Okay, but like, did it feel like it was going there?

Y/N:

No! It wasn’t like that. He said he had too much food and could use a friend, so I brought wine, and we had dinner. That’s it.

Lila:

You brought wine. That’s a date move.

Harper:

Right? Totally a date.

Y/N:

It wasn’t a date. We ate at his bar counter, talked a little, and that’s all. But…

Lila:

BUT WHAT?!

Harper:

Spill, Y/N. Don’t make us beg.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip as she typed out her next message.

Y/N:

Okay, fine. I wouldn’t mind if something happened, but it’s not like I know much about him. I don’t even know what he does for work.

Lila:

Oh my God. You want to bang the mysterious, tattooed neighbor. I KNEW IT.

Harper:

This is your grumpy/sunshine romance, and we are living for it.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. I’m just saying he’s attractive, okay? That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.

Lila:

It’ll happen. The sexual tension alone is probably unbearable.

Harper:

Agreed. You just need to ask him questions about himself. What he does for work, what his favorite food is, if he’s single—

Lila:

Definitely ask the last one. For research purposes.

Y/N groaned, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.

Y/N:

You two are impossible. But fine, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll try to find out more about him. Happy?

Harper:

Ecstatic.

Lila:

Can’t wait to hear how this unfolds. We’re already planning the wedding playlist.

Y/N laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. Her friends were relentless, but they weren’t wrong about one thing—she was curious about Harry. And as much as she tried to deny it, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… or seeing where this strange connection between them might lead.

Later that month Y/N walked into her apartment after a long day, expecting the usual cozy warmth to greet her. Instead, an icy chill hit her the moment she stepped inside. She frowned, rubbing her arms and heading straight for the thermostat. She fiddled with it for a minute, but no matter what she did, the heater refused to turn on.

“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t unbearably cold outside, but inside her apartment, it felt like a freezer.

With no other options, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t know many people in the building—just Harry, really. And as much as she hesitated, her fingers hovered over his name before she finally sent a text.

Y/N:

Hey, random question. Do you happen to have a small heater or something I can borrow? My heater’s broken, and it’s freezing in here.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Harry:

Why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve got heat, and I don’t own a portable heater.

Y/N stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Borrowing something was one thing, but staying at his place? She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Before she could overthink it, she typed out a response.

Y/N:

Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

His reply was quick.

Harry:

You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s better than you freezing to death in your apartment. Bring whatever you need.

She bit her lip, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in her chest. Finally, she grabbed a bag and threw in some essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a few other things—before bundling up and heading out.

When she reached his door, she knocked softly. It opened almost immediately, and there was Harry, leaning against the frame with his usual calm demeanor.

“Figured you’d take me up on the offer,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Yeah, well, hypothermia didn’t sound appealing,” Y/N replied with a small smile, brushing past him into the warmth of his apartment.

As she set her bag down by the couch, she glanced at him. “Thanks for this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, closing the door. “No problem. It’s just one night.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, Harry. That almost sounded like you’re happy to have me here.”

He gave her a dry look but didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “You can take the couch if you want, or I can grab some extra blankets for the guest room.”

She looked at the couch, then back at him. “Guest room? You have a guest room?”

“Barely,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more of a storage room, but there’s a bed in there.”

“Well, as long as it’s warmer than my apartment, I’ll take it.”

Harry nodded, heading toward the hallway. “I’ll grab some blankets.”

As Harry disappeared down the hallway to grab blankets, Y/N called after him, her voice light and teasing. “By the way, I brought some wine as a thank-you! You know, for saving me from my frozen wasteland of an apartment.”

She heard him chuckle faintly, his voice drifting back from the other room. “Thoughtful of you. What kind?”

“Red. A classic, nothing too fancy,” she replied, smirking as she started to take the bottle out of her bag. “Figured you’d prefer something a little understated, given your whole ‘mysterious and broody’ vibe.”

Harry reappeared in the doorway, carrying a thick blanket over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you enjoy calling me broody a little too much.”

“Well, it fits,” she shot back, grinning. “Speaking of which, I realized something earlier—I don’t even know what you do for work. So, enlighten me, oh mysterious one. What is it that you do?”

Harry paused for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I own an art gallery,” he said simply, setting the blanket on the couch.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You own an art gallery?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Small place over in Silver Lake. Nothing flashy, just local artists and smaller exhibitions.”

She stared at him, her curiosity piqued. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“What did you see coming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, laughing softly. “Something more… I don’t know, corporate? Like sitting at a desk all day and brooding at spreadsheets.”

Harry actually laughed at that, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “Sorry to disappoint. No spreadsheets involved.”

“No, it’s not disappointing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just… unexpected. I mean, you own an art gallery. That’s cool. Artistic and grumpy? You’re full of surprises, Harry.”

He shook his head, but there was a faint warmth in his expression, like her enthusiasm had caught him off guard. “It’s just a business.”

“Just a business?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. That’s impressive.”

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze steady. “Thanks.”

They fell into a brief silence, and Y/N felt the air shift slightly. It wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt… comfortable. She gestured to the wine. “So, should we open this or what?”

Harry nodded, stepping into the kitchen to grab two glasses. “Why not? You’re my guest, after all.”

As he poured the wine, Y/N couldn’t help but think that for someone who seemed so guarded at first, Harry was slowly becoming an open book—one she was eager to keep reading.

Y/N leaned against the counter, swirling her glass of wine as she watched Harry pour his own. “So, how did you end up owning an art gallery?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean, that’s not exactly the most common career path.”

Harry took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful as he set the glass down. “I’ve always loved art. Painting, sketching… that sort of thing. But it’s not exactly the easiest way to make a living.”

Y/N nodded, understanding the struggle. “So, the gallery was a way to stay involved in the art world?”

“Something like that,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “I came into some money after my mom passed a few years ago. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to make me think about what I really wanted to do. I didn’t want to sit in an office or work for someone else. I wanted something that felt… personal. The gallery felt like the right choice.”

“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I mean, turning something you love into a business? Not many people can say they’ve done that.”

Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “It has its challenges, but I don’t regret it.”

Y/N smiled at him, feeling a new layer of respect for her neighbor. After a moment, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her. “What about you? What do you do?”

She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, nothing nearly as impressive as you,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just a server. I work at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from here.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?” she asked, frowning.

“Like it’s nothing. You said you’re ‘just’ a server,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re in food service, right? That’s an art in itself. Just… a different kind.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his perspective. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

He nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Think about it. You’re part of creating an experience for people. The way the food’s presented, the way you interact with customers—it’s all part of the artistry. Doesn’t matter if it’s a painting on a wall or a plate of pasta. It’s still something people connect with.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over her. “That’s… actually really nice of you to say.”

“It’s true,” Harry said simply, his green eyes meeting hers. “Stop selling yourself short.”

She smiled, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone complains about their breadsticks not being warm enough.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Breadsticks or not, it sounds like you’re good at what you do.”

Y/N sipped her wine, the corners of her lips curving up. 

Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, glancing at Harry over the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the conversation a little further. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “you have a really nice way of thinking about things. The way you look at art, even food… it’s kind of impressive.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Is that your way of saying I’m not just a grumpy neighbor?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small grin, her tone almost teasing. “But seriously, you’ve got a smart mind, Harry. You see things in a way most people don’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying her as if trying to figure out her angle. “Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”

She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “And if I was?”

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I’d say it’s about time you stopped pretending you find me intimidating.”

“I never said you intimidate me,” she shot back, her grin widening. “I said you have a grumpy vibe. Totally different.”

“Right,” he said, his tone dry but his smirk giving him away. “Good to know I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not even close,” Y/N replied, her voice confident now. She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him. “You’re not as scary as you think, Harry. In fact, I think you’re kind of… interesting.”

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“Right back at you,” she said, her gaze warm.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful banter was still there, but beneath it was something quieter, something unspoken. Y/N didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t in a hurry to break the moment.

Harry finally set his glass down, his expression softening just slightly. “Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

“Maybe I do,” she said simply, holding his gaze.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and for the first time, he didn’t deflect her comment. Instead, he just looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn’t look away.

The mood in the room shifted as Harry leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. 

He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing as he said, "You wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her breath caught, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word.

 "Try me," she challenged, her voice steady but laced with anticipation.

Harry's eyes darkened, the playful smirk on his lips giving way to something deeper, something more raw. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her throat-not gripping, just resting, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. The warmth of his touch made her heart race, and she felt her breath hitch as he leaned in closer.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rushed either-it was deliberate, like he'd been holding himself back and was finally letting go. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, and Y/N melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip the edge of the counter for balance.

She kissed him back just as fervently, tilting her head to deepen the connection. His fingers slid from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he couldn't get enough of her. The heat between them was undeniable, and in that moment, nothing else mattered-not the chill of her broken heater, not the wine, not the playful banter that had led them here.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Harry's green eyes searched hers, and for once, his usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found.

"Still think I can't handle you?" Y/N whispered, her voice a little breathless but tinged with humor.

Harry smirked, his hand still lingering at the nape of her neck. 

"Guess I underestimated you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But l'm not done yet.”

Harry's hand slid down from Y/N's neck to her wrist, his grip firm but careful as he led her through his apartment toward his bedroom.

Her heart pounded in anticipation, her breath catching when he opened the door and gently but deliberately pushed her onto the bed.

Y/N gasped softly, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked up at him. The intensity in his green eyes made her pulse race, and the energy between them was electric, the room feeling heavier with every passing second.

Harry stepped closer, his movements slow and controlled, like he was savoring the moment.

He placed a hand on her throat again, this time with a gentle but deliberate squeeze that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her jawline as he leaned in, his voice low and commanding.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority and heat.

Y/N's breath hitched as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, so she let her actions speak for her, tilting her head slightly into his touch.

Harry smirked, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped even lower, a whisper that made her skin prickle with anticipation.

"I knew you would be," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive.

The words sent a jolt through her, and she felt her body react instinctively, her cheeks flushing as she surrendered to the moment.

Harry's lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, trailing down her neck as his hand stayed firmly but gently in place. Every movement felt deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of his attention.

Whatever control Y/N thought she had going into this was slipping fast, and the way Harry's touch consumed her made it clear—he knew it, too.

Harry paused, his intense green eyes meeting Y/N’s as he leaned over her. His hand lingered on her throat, his grip light but enough to hold her attention completely. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move any closer. He just looked at her, his gaze softening slightly, as if he were silently asking her a question.

It wasn’t just a look—it was a pause, a chance for her to stop him if she wanted to. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and searching, silently asking for her consent.

Y/N’s heart raced as she looked back at him, feeling the weight of his unspoken question. She swallowed, her breath shallow as she gave him the answer he was waiting for. Slowly, purposely, she nodded.

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an edge of tenderness.

He leaned down again, his lips brushing hers as his hand on her throat tightened just slightly, enough to make her feel both safe and completely at his mercy. And as the space between them disappeared, Y/N felt herself giving in fully, her trust in him unwavering.

Harry's piercing gaze never left Y/N's face, his touch as light as a butterfly's wings. He slowly pulled her to the edge, his hands on her hips. The soft rustle of sheets filled the room as she sank into the bedding, eyes darting up to meet his.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him undoing his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. She gulped audibly as he climbed onto the bed with her, their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. His hand trailed down her side, stopping just above her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her earlobe, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before whispering back, "I want you to take control."

Harry's smirk was both predatory and reassuring as he nodded once in understanding. His hand slid underneath her shirt, tracing patterns across her stomach before moving higher till it reached its destination: her lacy black bra. He palmed one of her breasts through the fabric, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat that echoed around them. His thumb circled her nipple roughly, making it harden into a tight bud underneath his touch.

His lips followed suit, kissing along her jawline and trailing down towards that erect nipple. He flicked it with his tongue teasingly while simultaneously tug

His smile was wicked as he leaned back, a glint in his eye. "Is that so?" He trailed kisses down her neck, his stubble grazing against her sensitive skin, making her shudder with pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies and brushed against her center, indulging in the wetness there. She gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.

"You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed her shorts aside and slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness surrounding him. Y/N moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand in encouragement.

Harry removed his finger, teasing her as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He growled softly against her skin, sucking gently as he began to thrust two fingers inside her in short, quick motions that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out softly, gripping the sheets beneath her as he continued his ministrations. He quickly undressed her and stared at her body. Y/N felt hot under his eyes. 

They quickly lost themselves in each other's touches. The squeak of the bedframe echoed in the room as Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped at the fullness but welcomed it, urging him on with a nod of encouragement.

He slowed down, taking deep breaths to regain control as he braced himself above her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked hoarsely, gaze locked onto hers.

Y/N nodded fiercely, signaling him to continue. With a low growl of approval, he began moving inside her slowly but steadily, their 

bodies meeting in a dance of desire. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through them both, their skin slick with sweat under the dim light of the bedside lamp. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved together, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.

Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his rhythm becoming faster and harder, mirroring the desire that flared in his eyes. Y/N met him stroke for stroke, their eyes locked on each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the silence beneath the duvet, broken only by their heavy breathing and soft moans.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared her climax, his name falling from her lips in a whispered plea. Without missing a beat, he quickened his pace, his cock driving into her with urgency. Their connection was intense, overwhelming, everything she could have asked for and more.

As she cried out in ecstasy beneath him, feeling her orgasm wash over her like a wave, Harry followed close behind. His body tensed as he groaned loudly, filling her with his warmth and love. Their hearts raced in unison as they finally collapsed onto each other, panting heavily but content.

He rolled off her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back beside her. 

Harry lay on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/N. His green eyes were softer now, a flicker of mischief dancing in them as he smirked. 

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "are you going to text your little girl chat and tell them we fucked?" Y/N let out a surprised laugh, turning her head to look at him. 

"What? No! They'd never let me live it down."

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. 

"You should. Tell them the hot, mysterious guy was really grumpy the whole time."Y/N laughed even harder, covering her face with her hand. 

"Oh, right. That'll really sell it. 'Hey, girls, just an FYl, my grumpy neighbor is not only hot but also excellent in bed. Highly recommend.'"

Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "Not bad. Make sure you add in the part about how I stayed in character the whole time-grumpy and all."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling as she nudged him playfully. "Fine. I'll throw in that your scowl is even sexier up close. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said dryly, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. YN shook her head, the laughter subsiding into a warm smile.

 "You know," she said, her tone softening, "you might be mysterious and grumpy, but you're also a little cocky. Just saying."

Harry leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"Maybe," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you like it."

Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, biting back a grin. "Maybe I do."

"Good," he said simply, before capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her forget about everything else-including her friends waiting for updates in the group chat.

The week passed in a blur of near-misses and brief encounters between Y/N and Harry. She saw him in the mailroom once, where he gave her a small nod and the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing upstairs. Another time, they crossed paths in the hallway, exchanging quick hellos but nothing more.

Neither of them brought up the night they spent together, and while Y/N tried to brush it off as a casual hookup, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the topic. She didn’t want to push, figuring Harry would open up if and when he was ready.

Then, one evening, as she was curled up on her couch with a glass of wine and her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text.

Harry:

Hey. Sorry I’ve been so distant this week. The gallery is getting ready for a new showing, and it’s been… a lot.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t expected him to reach out, let alone apologize.

Y/N:

Hey, no worries. I figured you were busy. New showing sounds exciting though!

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

Harry:

It is. Stressful, but worth it. You should come by. It’s this Saturday night. Bring your friends if you want.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry inviting her to his gallery? That felt… significant.

Y/N:

I’d love to. Are you sure you want me to bring my friends? They’re a little… loud.

Harry:

If they’re anything like you, I’m already prepared for chaos.

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

Y/N:

Fair warning: chaos is guaranteed. But I’ll be there.

Harry:

Good. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.

Y/N set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. For all of Harry’s grumpiness and guarded demeanor, this felt like his way of extending an olive branch—a step toward something more. And she couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing him in his element, at the gallery, intrigued her.

She grabbed her phone again and opened the group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

Ladies, clear your schedules for Saturday night. We’re going to an art gallery.

Predictably, her phone exploded with responses almost immediately.

Lila:

Wait, is this Harry’s gallery?

Harper:

The grumpy tattooed neighbor has an art gallery?

Y/N:

Yes. He invited me. And before you ask—no, we’re not talking about the other night.

Lila:

Boring. But fine, we’re in. Is there wine?

Harper:

And snacks?

Y/N:

I’ll ask. But behave yourselves. He already thinks I’m loud.

Lila:

Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.

Y/N laughed, already imagining the chaos her friends would inevitably bring. But deep down, she was looking forward to Saturday more than she cared to admit. 

The week crawled by as Saturday approached, each day slower than the last. Y/N found herself obsessing over small details—whether Harry would be too busy to notice her, what kind of people attended art gallery showings, and most importantly, what to wear. She wanted to look effortlessly put-together, like someone who appreciated art but wasn’t trying too hard.

By Saturday afternoon, her room was a battlefield of discarded outfits. Finally, she settled on a sleek black jumpsuit paired with a cropped denim jacket and ankle boots—stylish but not over the top. She added a few gold accessories and a swipe of lipstick before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.

On the way to Silver Lake, she picked up Harper and Lila, who were already buzzing with excitement when they climbed into the car.

“You look hot,” Lila said, eyeing her outfit. “Very ‘I like art but I’m too cool to talk about it.’”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing as she started the car. “I’m going for low-key, not intimidating.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Harper chimed in, adjusting her blazer. 

Y/N glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning. Harper wore a bold red jumpsuit, while Lila had opted for a metallic skirt and leather jacket. 

By the time they pulled into Silver Lake, the sun had set, and the neighborhood was alive with energy. The gallery came into view, its windows glowing warmly against the evening sky. People were milling about on the sidewalk, chatting in small groups with glasses of wine in hand, while others filtered in and out of the bustling space.

“This is it,” Y/N said, parking the car and taking a deep breath.

“It’s so fancy,” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Look at all these people!”

Harper leaned forward, peering out the window. “I’m already picturing Harry brooding in a corner, glaring at anyone who talks too loud.”

“Probably,” Y/N muttered, her heart fluttering as she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag and adjusted her jacket before turning to her friends. “Okay, let’s not embarrass me too much, yeah?”

“No promises,” Harper said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they headed toward the gallery entrance.

Inside, the space was even more vibrant. The walls were adorned with bold, eclectic pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, and mixed-media pieces that immediately drew attention. Soft music played in the background, and servers wove through the crowd with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the occasional burst of laughter.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Harry. She didn’t spot him right away, but she noticed how carefully curated the space felt—each piece arranged with intention. It was a reflection of him, she realized, meticulous and thoughtful.

“This is amazing,” Harper said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “He really knows what he’s doing.”

Lila nudged Y/N. “Speaking of, where is Mr. Grumpy Art Dealer? I want to see him in his element.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, glancing around again. “He’s probably—”

Before she could finish, her gaze landed on him. Harry stood near the back of the room, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tattoos. He was talking to a small group of people, but his eyes flicked toward her as if he could feel her presence.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and he gave her a subtle nod before turning back to his conversation. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt Lila squeeze her arm.

“Oh, he definitely saw you,” Lila said, grinning. “And I’m not imagining the way he looked at you.”

“Stop,” Y/N hissed, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t deny it—there was something in his gaze that felt personal, even in the middle of the crowd.

“Go say hi,” Harper urged, giving her a nudge.

“Not yet,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass of wine for herself. “I’ll wait until he’s free. Let’s just look around first.”

As they wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry’s eyes were on her—even when she wasn’t looking his way.

Y/N wandered through the gallery, sipping her wine as she admired the artwork. Each piece was so different—some abstract, others intricate and detailed—but all of them carried a sense of purpose. It was easy to see that Harry had a good eye for curating.

She glanced across the room and saw Harper and Lila chatting animatedly with a group of women, likely bonding over their outfits or the wine. Typical, she thought with a smile, shaking her head.

As she moved to the next painting—a striking piece of layered colors and textures—she felt someone step up beside her. There was a shift in the air, a quiet presence that made her turn her head.

It was Harry.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the painting. His black shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up, contrasted sharply against the warm tones of the art, and his tattoos seemed to blend seamlessly into the aesthetic of the space.

“It’s acrylic and resin,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The artist used palette knives for the texture and then poured resin over it to give it that shine. Took weeks to cure properly.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard for a moment before she found her words. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the piece. “I love the depth in it. It feels like you could reach in and get lost.”

Harry glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the idea. The artist wanted it to feel immersive, like stepping into an emotional landscape.”

She looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know all the details of every piece in here?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, his smirk growing. “Part of the job. I like to understand the process—it helps me connect with the artists and explain it to people who come through.”

Y/N smiled, sipping her wine. “It’s impressive. You’ve created something really special here.”

Harry looked at her again, his green eyes studying her for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

She tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Why me?”

He shrugged slightly, his gaze flicking back to the painting. “Because you actually look at the art. Most people just see it, but you’re trying to understand it.”

Her cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she turned back to the painting to hide her flustered expression. “Well, you make it hard not to appreciate it. The way you talk about it… it’s obvious how much you care.”

He didn’t respond right away, and the silence between them felt comfortable, almost intimate. Finally, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer now.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

Y/N turned to look at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the closeness between them. “Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the bustling crowd around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing there, the art surrounding them as if it were part of their story.

Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s, his fingers warm and steady as he gently tugged her through the gallery. She followed without question, her curiosity mounting as they weaved between groups of people. He didn’t say a word, just led her down a quieter section of the space where fewer people were lingering.

When they stopped, Y/N noticed the piece in front of them was a painting—bold yet delicate, with strokes that somehow conveyed both strength and softness. She tilted her head, studying it, drawn to the way the light and shadows played across the figure in the painting. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory.

She took a step closer, her heart beating faster as the realization slowly dawned on her. The painting wasn’t just beautiful—it was her.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Harry, her eyes wide. “Is this…?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable. “It’s you.”

Y/N stared at the painting again, her mind racing. The details were unmistakable—the way her hair fell, the soft curve of her face, the hint of a thoughtful expression she’d never realized she wore. But it wasn’t just her likeness; it was the way the he had captured something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.

“How?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “I started it a few weeks after I moved in. I didn’t even know your name then. I just… saw you.”

Her chest tightened as she turned to him again. “You saw me?”

He nodded, his green eyes softer now. “In the mailroom. In the hallway. On your balcony once, drinking coffee. I didn’t know why, but there was something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head. So, I painted.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—flattery, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “Harry, this is… incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just thought you should see it. This is the first time I’ve shown it to anyone.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she took a step closer to him, her voice soft. “Why me?”

Harry’s gaze locked on hers, his expression open and sincere. “Because it’s you, Y/N. I couldn’t have painted this if it wasn’t.”

The noise of the gallery faded around them as she stood there, her hand still in his, staring up at the painting of herself. For the first time, she saw herself through someone else’s eyes—not as the loud, chaotic neighbor, but as something worthy of being captured in art.

And Harry, the grumpy, mysterious neighbor, was the one who had done it.

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN gets a job as a bartender in a motorbike club's bar, and Harry runs the club.

author's note: suprise!! i'm back again!! i promised i wouldn't keep you waiting and i'm not. this is the first part in my biker!harry mini-series which i started a while ago and only just got around to finishing! let me know what you think and what you'd like to see in the next instalments!

word count: 11.6k of sexy biker!harry (that's it, that's all).

WARNINGS: strong language, smut, bike riding, a bar fight and talks of a motor accident.

let me know what you think of clover here!! mwah <3

1979

“Look, sweets, I’d hire you on the spot if I thought it would be a good idea,” Mick spoke from across the bar, towel over one shoulder and another in his hand drying a glass, “But it just isn’t, I’m sorry.”

YN sighed, dropping her hands down on the bar. This was the fourth one she’d tried, and so far, she hadn’t had any luck. She wasn’t asking for much – just a job to help pay for her student loans. She had graduated a year ago and bounced from job to job, and yet none of them seemed to fit. It wasn’t necessarily her dream to work in a bar, but she hadn’t a single clue about what her dream was. She had a first-class honours history degree (which she adored getting) and yet not a single idea of what to do with it.

She couldn’t think of the future at this moment, she needed to think about the now and if she wanted to continue to live in her small apartment and eat — she needed a job.

Clovers had been her last hope. It was the last bar in town that YN was yet to try, and despite its less-than-positive reputation – it was always busy, and that meant money coming in. As she turned to look around the bar, which was already quite crowded for it being early on a Friday night, she couldn’t help but imagine the cash that was funnelling through the establishment, and how she wished she could get at least some of it.

“Can I get you a drink, sweets?” Mick spoke again, offering her a soft smile, “It’ll hopefully soften the blow a little bit.”

YN smiled at the man and nodded, “Thank you. Whisky, please.”

Mick got straight to work, placing the glass in front of her, dropping an ice cube into the glass and pouring her a more than generous shot. Just as she fumbled with her purse to pull out some bills to pass to Mick, he shook his head and held his hand out to stop it. She smiled in thanks and watched as he turned and walked away, going to serve the next customer who was standing a few feet away from her.

YN picked up her drink, and just as she was about to take a drink the door beside her opened. Her lips parted, her eyes watching as a group of what seemed to be fifteen or so men, all clad in heavy leather or dark denim walked into the bar.

Of course, YN knew about them. Anyone who lived here knew who they were, but it was the first time that she had seen them this up close. The most she had ever experienced with them was the low rumbling of their engines from a distance, or possibly them riding past her but that was only ever one or two. It was their jackets that often set them apart from the rest of the riders in the town, the very specific Clover’s Riders jacket that every member adorned and what seemed like all times.

The men were loud as they stepped in, most of them heading towards the bar whilst others went to some of the other members who were already seated in the bar. YN’s eyes never left the door until the last one had made his entrance, and she just couldn’t seem to draw them away.

He was younger than many of his counterparts, probably resting at an age near YN’s or possibly a few years or so older. He was clad in the same heavy denim that many of the others wore, but they seemed to sit on his body much easier. The curls of his hair were tousled in every direction it seemed, but YN found herself wondering as to what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to her glass and lifted it to her lips. She took a large gulp of the liquid, allowing that to slip down her throat before she finished the rest of it. Mick was long gone from being anywhere near her, working at what seemed like double speed to keep up with the orders that the gang of men were giving him, and she felt as though that was probably her cue to leave. She would have to brainstorm other options for work, seeing as though this just hadn’t called through.

Sighing, YN pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushed up from the stool she was resting on. Just as she turned around to make a beeline for the door through the bodies that were crowding the room, she was stopped by a body in front of hers.

“Woah, woah, little darling where do you think you’re going?” It was one of the riders, standing in front of her with a grin on his features.

“Home,” she said with a shrug.

“So soon,” The man looked over his shoulder to some of his friends who were standing close by, “Me and my buddies here didn’t even get to say hello.”

“Right, okay, hello,” YN nodded to the man in front of her and those behind him, “Really have to get going.”

The man extended his arms so that she couldn’t carry move from her space in front of him, “Let us buy you a drink little darling, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ve already had one, thank you, and it was very enjoyable,” YN offered them another small smile, “Now please move out of my way so that I can go home.”

“Hey, none of that,” The man shook his head, “Stay with us, I promise we’ll make it worth it.”

YN hummed, tilting her head from side to side lightly, “I’ll pass but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else to make the night worth it.”

And with that, YN pushed past the man and beelined for the door. She half expected him to grab her, but from the hoots and hollers of his friends, he was too embarrassed to do anything else.

The bar that YN had worked out whilst she was completing her degree had taught her a thing or two about how to deal with rowdy men, and whilst the firm but clear approach worked in most cases, YN wasn’t afraid to resort to other means if necessary. It was all a respect thing, and more often than not if you deal back to them what they deal to you – the situation usually sorts itself.

YN had just rested her palm against the wood of the door when she heard someone call her name. She saw Mick standing there, leaning over the bar to catch her attention.

“Saw you deal with those guys,” He nodded his head over to the men whose attention had been taken by another woman in the bar, who seemed to accept their advances more than YN did, “When can you start?”

YN’s face broke out into a smile and took a delighted step towards Mick, “Whenever.”

“Right now?” He raised his eyebrows at her, motioning to the men who were calling his name for more drinks, “Have a feeling we’re going to be swamped tonight.”

YN nodded and immediately dropped her purse down behind the bar and rolled the sleeves of her cardigan up.

She turned to the men who were now staring at her with their mouths slightly agape, “What can I get you?”

It was a Thursday night and YN had been working at Clover’s for around a week at this point when Mick decided that she could handle a night on her own. After being thrown into what very much was the deep end on her first shift, there had been time the next day for Mick to show her the ropes properly and anything she would specifically need to know.

Mick said that he normally wouldn’t leave such a new person on their own so quickly, but he had an important family issue that he couldn’t get out of and that she had shown enough trust that he wasn’t worried. It was a Thursday, so it wasn’t going to be too busy but even so, those who were going to be there would be Riders, and they would protect their bar from anything.

It was nearing nine, and YN would probably say that they were at a quarter of their capacity, the majority of them being riders who had been there for the last few hours or so. YN was lucky she supposed. They never ordered anything more complicated than a beer, at most a whisky or a bourbon and this was their bar so there were never any arguments about paying for the drinks.

There was a lull in the orders, so YN decided to take it upon herself to dry some of the glasses she had washed in the previous lull. This job was not for the weak she would say that, but YN would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She loved people watching and mixed with the hum of the jukebox it was the perfect combination for her.

The door to the bar opened again about twenty minutes, and in walked that same man that caught her attention a week or so ago, on that first day she was here. He looked the same, apart from he was clad in a mixture of denim and leather this time instead of just denim, and a large bruise was sprouting from under his left eye. To YN, it was obvious that the cause was a punch, for there was nothing else that could cause a bruise such as that one. He walked into the room, ignored the hoots and hollers from some of the other men and took a seat right in the middle of the bar.

YN threw the towel she was holding over her shoulder and walked towards him, resting her hands on the edge of the bar, “What can I get ya?”

The man didn’t stray his eyes away from where they were planted firmly on the wood of the bar, “Beer, and a whisky.”

YN nodded, reaching over to pop the lid of the beer, “Do you want ice in the whisky?”

The man just hummed, so YN got straight to work making his drink for him. It was different to that of the other men in the bar — watching him. Whilst they were loud and rowdy and always had something to say to someone – he was silent. He just sat, with the company of his only himself and drank his drink.

Snapping YN out of her gaze (which had been on the man for a few beats too long) was a call of her name from just down the bar. She walked over to where it came from, a man called Taylor who YN had become quite acquainted with in the last few days or so.

Most of the men (not all, obviously) that she had become acquainted with during the last few weeks were lovely. They loved to have a quick natter with her whilst she made their drinks, some of them flirted with her but she didn’t care (it was part of the job) and nobody bothered her. If one or two of the men when they were drunk got a little handsy or started to say things which would be deemed inappropriate, the other lads would circle her and make sure she was okay. She felt safe, which she was quite surprised was the case.

“A piece of advice,” Taylor spoke over the bar as YN started opening the bottles of beer for him and his friends, “Harry over there always orders the same thing, and he’ll drink the whiskey last before he leaves.”

“Thank you,” YN nods with a small smile across her lips, unable to stop her eyes beating over to him for a second – Harry.

“He’s a quiet one,” Taylor continues speaking, grabbing a few bills out of his pocket to pay for the drinks, “But harmless, I promise. To be fair, you’d think the man who founded the club would have more to say.”

YN’s eyes widen, she had no idea that Harry was the one who founded the club. She hadn’t suspected it at all.

“He founded it?” She asked with a slight raise of her eyebrow. She wasn’t trying to pry, but there were things that she wanted to know, and Taylor already had that buzz that made her know that he would be willing to answer any questions she had.

“Yeah, it was him and a few others,” Taylor shrugged, attempting to pick up the three bottles of beer all in one go, “A few years ago now, and it only grew from there.”

YN nodded once more and watched as he walked back to his table. She put the bills that he had given her for the drinks into the register and put the tip she had been given into her apron.

There was something about that man that had caught her attention from that first day, and yet she couldn’t put her finger on it. Now, it made sense. The aura that he had when he walked into the room, as well as the way he sat and held himself – he had a strong presence in the group without even trying.

YN had more questions, but she knew it probably wasn’t the best to pry right now. Instead, she just got on with everything that she had to do. She served drinks and cleaned up after herself right up until close. YN hadn’t realised when Harry had left, but he had slipped out without a single person realising.

She hummed as she swept the floors, tried her hardest to count the cash right the first time and put it in the safe before continuing with her other closing jobs. The chairs were off the floor, as much of the stickiness in the room that YN could remove was gone and the doors were locked and checked.  

Once she had stepped outside, and locked the door to the bar behind her, the late hour catching up with her very quickly – she realised at that point she wasn’t alone.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was standing there, resting against his motorcycle with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. YN was confused but continued to lock the door and make sure that nobody could get inside. Then she turned, and that was when she saw Harry looking directly at her.

“Can I help you?” She muttered, fidgeting with the keys she was holding in her hand.

He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, holding it for a second or so before he exhaled, “Heard you were asking questions.”

YN’s heart drops slightly, heat pulsating around her body, “Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, placing the cigarette back in his mouth, “Can’t stop you from doing that, but any questions you have about me, you can ask me yourself.”

YN just pursed her lips and nodded, “Okay then… do you always stalk women when they’re leaving work?”

Harry didn’t seem shocked by her words, or react in any way to them at all, which was surprising to her. But, then again, she hadn’t seen much of a reaction out of this man this entire time she had known of him.

“Only the ones that have worked in my bar for a week.”

“Your bar?” YN widened her eyes, “Thought Mick owned it?”

Harry shook his head, “I do. Mick’s my employee, and so are you.”

“Do you not trust me or something? Think I’m walking away with pocketfuls of cash?”

“I would already know if you’d done that, and you wouldn’t be working here anymore,” YN just nodded, “But this side of a town can be sketchy at night, and you never know who could be lurking.”

YN just scoffed, turning to walk away from the man, “Thank you, but I can look after myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged, climbing onto his bike, and kicking the stand-up. YN could hear the engine turning on, the loud rumble filling the empty street.

YN continued walking, expecting him to speed past her but he didn’t. The low rumble continued down the street, even when she turned – the sound turned too. It was frustrating and annoying. All YN wanted to do was to get home, have something to eat and get in bed. Instead, she was having to deal with what was becoming an annoying rider, who couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

This continued for around ten minutes, and with each second that passed YN was getting more and more annoyed. Just as she turned onto the edge of her street, the apartment she shared with her roommate Ashley coming into view in the distance, she decided that enough was enough.

She stopped and turned around on the pavement, Harry pulling in on his bike to stop just in front of her. YN sighed and placed her hand on her hips.

“Do we have a problem?”

Harry rested his hands on his bike still, but was facing her, “No problem.”

“Then why are you following me home?” A small chuckle escaped her lips, “You know those strange people you were talking about earlier; you do know you’re acting like one of them?”

“You’re one of us now,” He shrugs, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world – it certainly wasn’t for YN at all.

“That means you follow me home?” The confusion grows with every moment in YN, and yet Harry doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried.

“You didn’t want a ride,” He pulls his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up, “Had to make sure you got home safe.”

“Right,” YN just nods, “Well, I think I can manage on my own from here. And, if I’m all of a sudden one of you should I expect my jacket in the post? Or do you do collection?”

With a final scoff, she turned and walked away from the man. This time, when the engine started, YN didn’t turn to look at Harry and instead carried on to her front door. It was only then that she turned to peer over her shoulder, just in time to see Harry speed past her and into the night.

She had an incline that this job was going to be interesting, but she had no idea just how much.

It wasn’t necessarily a normal working pattern that YN had found herself in.

Sleeping for most of the day and being awake all night wasn’t necessarily the big girl working pattern that she had aspired to when she was younger, but for the time being she was enjoying it. It did mean that when Ashley returned from her nine-to-five working as a receptionist (YN couldn’t think of anything worse to be honest), YN was just getting ready to start her day.

YN was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a half-eaten sandwich clutched tightly in her hand. She wasn’t too hungry, but she knew that if she didn’t eat something before, she left for work she would regret it later on. The second that Ashley stepped through the door and threw her bag down on the floor, she threw YN a quizzical look.

“What?” YN asked, wiping the mayo that rested on the curve of her lip off with her thumb.

“Do you happen to know anything about the smoking-hot rider staring at the apartment from across the street?”

YN’s entire face dropped, “What?”

Ashley walked over and dropped down on the other side of the sofa, reaching out to steal one of YN’s chips from her plate. Ashley seemed slightly unfazed by the newfound stalker YN had acquired, and that stressed the girl out significantly.

“What do you mean?” YN pushed herself up, making her way over to the window where there he was. Resting against his bike, cigarette resting from his lips sat Harry, staring at the front door to the building with an unreadable expression on his face,

“He’s been there since this morning,” Ashley adds to the conversation causally, running a hand through her hair which she had just pulled out of its undo, “At first, I thought he was waiting for Sandy, you know, from 2.B but then I saw the jacket and realised he must be here for you.”

“He’s not here for me,” YN shook her head, slapping the curtains shut and walking back over to her friend, “He’s stalking me, I can’t believe you’re not more stressed about this.”

Ashley just shrugged, “Worse people to be stalked by, I suppose. He’s one of Clover’s, he’ll be harmless.”

“No, Ashley, he’s not just one of Clover’s,” YN sighed, running a hand over her face before scooting around the apartment to grab her belongings, “He is Clover.”

It was Ashley’s face that dropped this time, “What do you mean?”

“That’s Harry,” YN pulled each one of her pumps on her feet, “He founded the gang!”

“You’re kidding,” Ashley all but screams, “Jesus YN, I knew I was concerned about this job, but I think you’ve done pretty alright for yourself.”

YN just shook her head. She grabbed her jacket, and her bag and made her way over to the door.

“If I go missing, you know who’s responsible,” With that, YN turned away from her friend and rushed out of the door.

She took the stairs down from her apartment at double speed, almost tripping over her feet multiple times. She pulled her jacket on just as she got to the front door. Just before she was going to push it open, just stopped and hesitated for a second. One deep breath in and out was all it took to compose herself, and then she pushed the door open.

Harry spotted her immediately, throwing the cigarette he had in his hand a few metres away from his bike, where a collection was beginning to grow. YN made sure to check the left and the right of her before crossing the road, not quite fancying becoming roadkill this early in the day.

“You’re lucky my neighbours didn’t call the cops on you,” Is the first thing that slips from YN’s lips, before she realises how stupid that sounds.

For the first time since she met him, a small smile crosses Harry’s lips. She had amused him, and oh did she want to do it again.

“You know you can’t stay out here all day,” She follows with, “I’m going to the bar now anyway.”

“I got something for you,” Harry pushed himself up off the bike and that’s when she saw it.

A denim jacket, smaller than the others that she had seen but still carrying the ever-so-known Clover’s Riders logo on the back. That four-leaf clover was known all over town, and towns for miles in every direction and now it seemed YN had one of her own. It would open paths for her but also close them as well. She knew that the second she accepted that jacket, things would change all over again.

“I don’t even ride, Harry,” She sighed, shaking her head slightly, “I’ve never been on a bike in my life.”

He just shrugged once more, “There’s always time to change that.”

YN toyed up her options, and it took a lot less time than she had thought it would to swipe the jacket from his hands. She shrugged off the one she was wearing and slipped her arms inside the material. It was the perfect fit, exactly what she would have chosen for herself. Harry beamed another smile at her and swung his leg over his bike once more.

“C’mon,” He tilted his head at her, “I have something I want to show you.”

“I’ll be late for work,” YN shook her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from throwing her leg over the side of the bike and using Harry’s shoulder to help steady herself as she got on.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry spoke, and that’s when YN realised that whilst yes, she was probably going to be late for work, she was also on the back of the owner’s bike – so the trouble couldn’t be too grave, “Hold on tight.”

YN did as the man said, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist. The second that the engine started, and Harry kicked the stand-up they went flying down the road, and she realised in that exact moment why he said tight. YN’s body lurched forward into Harry’s, her cheek resting against the leather of his jacket, and her hands tightening around him.

Once the initial fear had worn off, and YN finally peered over the man’s shoulder – she would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel in a word freeing. The wind through her hair, the chill of the speed at which she was going laced with the feeling of Harry pressed so closely against her. Sure, she had been scared but now she knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. It wasn’t a scary thing, instead, it was something to be enjoyed.

YN’s lips curled upwards, a slight giggle leaving them as she noticed they went speeding through a red light. Many, and by many YN meant most, of the riders had a back pocket full of speeding tickets, and lights that they’ve jumped and yet none of them seemed to care. It was as though all of the law-abiding parts of their brains didn’t function when they were on bikes. On second thought, even when they weren’t on the bikes the law-abiding parts of their brain didn’t function.

Harry pulled over just as they joined the road which took them out of the city. They had completely passed Clover’s, and YN hadn’t the faintest clue of how late she was for work at this point, but it didn’t matter. It would take a lot for this smile to leave her face today. Once the bike came to a stop, YN used Harry’s shoulder to push up off of it.

Harry sits on the bike, but his eyes never leave the girl. The way she almost looked like a baby deer as she got her grounding once she was off the bike, the way her hair stuck out in every and all directions, and most importantly the beaming smile that never left her face. For the first time in a long time, there were no thoughts in YN’s head. There were no worries about growing up and getting a proper job, or stress about money – it was completely and utterly freeing. She supposed that was why there were so many of the riders and she supposed they were all chasing that feeling.

“You’ve got to teach me how to ride,” She sighed, the blissful smile never leaving her lips.

Harry just nodded, “Whenever you want.”

“Really?” Her face widened in excitement.

Harry shrugged, “You’ve gotta know how to ride if you’re going to be a rider.”

YN just nodded, and almost jumped back onto the bike. Harry didn’t say anything when she wrapped her arms back around his waist, not a single gap between their bodies but it just felt so comfortable. Harry kicked the stand down once more and sprang straight into action, turning slowly around on the road before speeding up the second they were on the straight back to the town.

All YN knew was that she was going to savour the feeling of the wind in her hair.

It was another Saturday night, and it was packed in the bar.

YN was so thankful that she could stay behind the safety of the actual bar and not venture out into the rest of the room. The men had just come back from a ride, and they were all excited and loud and wanting nothing but drink upon drink upon drink. She had been there from earlier on in the day today, and when Mick showed up later in the evening, she hadn’t managed to utter a single word but hello to him since.

All she could think of was the fact that once the rush had died down, it would be her time to go home and rest. In what felt like a very long few months of working every day (at first YN hadn’t minded, but she was slowly getting more and more burnt out) it was finally time for her to have a day off. Mick had graciously said to her the other day that he could handle Sunday on his own, and those words felt like gold slipping from his lips. She didn’t have a single clue of what she was going to do with her day, all she knew was that it was going to be relaxing.

She just had to get through this night first.

At first, the night seemed fine. Everyone was in good spirits and there was nothing more than a few drunken disagreements that sorted themselves out. YN had taken that as the opportunity to make her way over to where Harry was sitting and replenish his beer while he was there. It was then that the door was thrown open, and the entire atmosphere in the room changed.

What had at first been a lovely evening had changed within the second, and it was all because of a man that she hadn’t recognised. He didn’t have a rider’s jacket on his back, and that should have been YN’s first clue that this man was going to be in trouble. This was a riders’ bar, and those jackets were almost like a rite of passage. Without one, people stuck out like a sore thumb.

It became even more obvious to YN when the man beelined straight over to where Harry was sitting. He didn’t sit and instead leant over Harry, so his focus was on him. YN stayed close, but she didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was listening. She wasn’t the only one either – she could see other riders peering over at them from where they were sitting.

“You said if I did it, I’d get my jacket,” Those were the first words that came out of the man’s mouth – not even a greeting of hello, “I did it. Where’s the fucking jacket?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a second or so. Instead, he lifted his recently replenished beer to his lips and took a swag. He was doing as he always did – taking his sweet darn time.

“I said I’d think about it,” Harry mumbles, shrugging slightly as he did, “I’ve thought about it… and no.”

The man smacks his hand down onto the bar top, the sound echoing throughout the room. It silenced everyone, and all eyes turned to the two men. YN’s eyes looked towards Mick with a panicked expression on them but he shook his head, hoping that would calm the girls down.

“That wasn’t the fucking deal,” The man spits, coming right up into Harry’s face but it didn’t seem to deter the man at all, “The deal was to drop the shipment, I get the fucking jacket.”

Harry finally turned to look at the man, his stern expression never wavering, “Do you think I want someone like you, someone that doesn’t listen wearing one of my jackets?”

The man didn’t like that response, and it seemed as though as quickly as YN could blink her eyes the man was grasping the lapels of Harry’s jacket and pulling him up from the stool. He was then pushed straight into the bar, a slight grunt leaving his lips as he did. There was the initial sound of beer stools scratching on the floor, and other Riders were reading to split the two men up but all it took was Harry lifting one of his hands and they all stopped in their places.

“I don’t want someone who’s that willing to fight one of his men wearing a jacket.”

That was all it took for the other man to make the first punch. His arm pulled backwards, and his fist hit Harry straight across the jaw. The skin immediately went red, but Harry didn’t look like a man who had just been hit straight across the jaw. The bar stayed silent, obviously waiting for whatever Harry’s retaliation was going to be.

What YN, and certainly a lot of others in the bar hadn’t expected was Harry to reach behind him, to where his empty beer bottle was sat and hit the man over the head with it. The man fell to the ground, his grip on Harry letting go instantly. Harry lifted his hand, wincing when he noticed that a shard of glass from the broken bottle had lodged itself in his skin.

He just sighed, rubbing his forehead with his uninjured hand, “Get him out of here.”

Three of the men who were watching closely immediately listened to him, walking over, and picking the man up. They carried him out of the bar and were back to their drinks in what seemed like minutes. It was as though nobody truly seemed to care as to what had just happened and were more excited to get back to their drinks truly as though nothing had happened.

YN watched as Harry threw back the glass of whisky that had sat on the bar waiting for him (courtesy of Mick). That seemed like something that YN would have to take note of. With that, he dropped a few bills on the counter and stormed out of the bar. YN watched this and immediately started to pull her apron off her body.

“Mick,” The older man hummed from the other side of the bar, “I’m going outside for a break. I’ll only be a minute.”

The older man just threw YN a look, obviously having spotted who had left the bar just before she wanted to, “Be careful.”

YN just laughed, throwing the latch open, “I’m always careful.”

The second she stepped outside; she was shocked to see that Harry’s bike was still there, but he wasn’t sitting on it. There was a slight chill in the night air, and YN looked from left to right to try and spot him, but he was still nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until YN made her way towards the alley that followed the side of the bar that she finally realised where he had gone.

It was dark, but not dark enough to miss the figure leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. YN wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to conceal at least some of the warmth from inside. As her shoes crunched on the path, Harry’s eyes turned to look at her. He was ready for it to be someone else, and it was almost as though when he noticed that it was her – his features seemed to relax.

“How’s your hand?” She asked, coming to a stop right in front of him.

He raised his palm towards her, “It’s been better.”

YN winced to herself slightly as she looked at his hand, seeing the shard of glass still sticking out of the skin. Whilst she didn’t have a first aid kit on her body at this exact moment, it was good that she knew where one was.

“Come with me,” She nodded, walking further down the alley to the bar’s back entrance.

YN didn’t even turn to make sure that he was following her, she just knew that he would be. She held the door open for him, and the one that opened to the office of the bar (where Mick spent most of his time during the day, sorting the books out) and pointed at the chair by the desk.

Whilst Harry sat down without a word to her, YN reached up to the shelf above them and brought the first aid kit down. Harry’s eyes watched her as she pulled tweezer, gauze, and some antiseptic to clean and dress his wound. It was all very silent, and still but caring.

“Can I?” She asked, checking sure it was okay to touch his hand.

Harry nodded, placing his hand in hers. To YN, she wasn’t sure if she was truly touch-starved that feeling of his hand in hers felt truly intimate. She got to work straight away, pulling the glass out with the tweezers ever so carefully before wiping the surface of the cut. Even though YN knew that it would have stung, Harry’s face didn’t show anything, only one raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” She mumbles, face still full of concentration on making sure the wound is fully clean before she wraps it.

Harry just nodded, “You see wounds like these before?”

YN nodded, “I’ve worked in bars before – of course, I’ve seen wounds like these before.”

Harry just nods, allowing YN to move his hand at her ease to ensure that it is wrapped tightly and securely. He opened his mouth once she had finished, as though he was going to ask her something, but he closed it straight away. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that he could ask her anything that he wanted to, but she didn’t want to scare him away.

“You’re all set,” She offered him a small smile.

“Thank you,” The words sort of felt foreign, but very sincere coming from his lips, “I… you didn’t have to.”

YN just shrugged, “Wasn’t going to let you bleed out – would’ve been bad for business.”

Harry offered her a small smile at her attempt at a joke, “I’m sorry about what happened in there as well… usually we try to keep those sorts of things out of the bar.”

“Harry,” His name came out of her lips softly, hoping that would be the thing to tell him that it was okay. That she wasn’t angry at him, “I know… it doesn’t bother me – I promise.”

He just nods, “I knew that, you know.”

YN furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“That first day,” He reached out to her, and did the last thing that she would ever expect – grabbed her hand, “The way you dealt with some of the lads… I knew you were different.”

“It was you…” The words slipped out of YN’s mouth before she could truly register them, “You saw me that day.”

It all made sense. YN had noticed Harry that very first day that she’d appeared at Clover, and whilst originally Mick had said no, he had changed his mind and said yes. To YN, it had looked and seemed that Mick was the one who had made that decision, and yet it made sense that it was Harry to be the one who changed Mick’s mind. Harry, if he had been sitting at his barstool would have been a metre or so away from that conversation – and he would have heard every word that had been said.

“I did,” Harry nods, claiming every thought that YN had to be true, “I saw you, the way you spoke to them, the way you stood your ground and god, YN, I was hooked.”

That was the first time that YN had heard Harry speak her name, and she was addicted. She wanted to hear it over, and over and over again. He noticed the slight shift in her and used his legs to roll the chair he was sitting on closer to where she was resting against the desk. Then he slipped his uninjured arm around her body and pulled her down to him. She straddled his knees, relishing the feeling of his body beneath hers.

“I…” Her words came out as a whisper, “I felt the same.”

Relief. That was the look on his face – it was a true relief.

“You did?”

“God, Harry,” YN giggles, shaking her head, “I tried not to, but I would be lying if I said that most of my thoughts haven’t been filled with you. Wanting to know more.”

“You can know anything,” His thumb slipped underneath the thin material of her shirt, a heat spreading across her entire body from that one single touch, “Ask me anything, everything – I’ll answer. Whatever you want to know?”

YN pondered that for a second. She could have asked him anything, and yet there was one thought which was present in her mind more than any of the others. An hour ago, this question would have been risky – she just wouldn’t have asked it. Yet, in the safety of this room – away from peering eyes, or anyone who could make assumptions as to what it meant – she wanted nothing more than to ask it.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Harry exhaled a breath, lifting his hand to rest against her cheek, “More than anything.”

YN nodded.

“Harry…” He hummed at the call of her name, “Kiss me.”

His thumb danced from her cheek, down to her lip. He ran it across the skin of her bottom lip, pushing down slightly so that her lips parted for him. The only sound in the room was YN’s heavy breathing, a response to the teasing that was on display right in front of her.

Then his face inched forward, and his lips were on hers. It didn’t take long for his tongue to slip past her parted lips, dancing with her own. This closeness to someone, the vulnerability – YN had missed it. She pushed her body forward towards Harry’s, slipping her hands in the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands, never mind the bandaged one which would have still caused him pain, rested upon her denim-clad arse. They found their home resting there, and YN wasn’t about to move them.

Harry pulled away from her lips, obviously needing oxygen as much as she did. But he wasted no time in dropping his attack down her neck, his teeth nipping the skin there. YN’s hands still rested in the curls at the nape of his neck, and heavy breaths parted from her lips.

“Harry,” She gasped as he started to suck at the sweet spot where her neck met her collarbone, “I need to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t,” He mumbled, and YN just rolled her eyes.

“I’ve deserted Mick,” She continues, “He might need help.”

“Mick’ll be fine,” He pulled his head up, resting on her chest as he peered up at her, “And anyway, I’m your boss.”

YN shook her head, “I need to go.”

Harry groaned but finally nodded, “Ride home with me?”

“Of course,” YN pecked Harry’s lips one last time pushed herself up from him and walked out of the room.

Harry’s eyes never left her the entire time.  

“Harry, no, I’m going to tip over.”

When Harry had dropped YN at home last night, he had muttered the words that he would see her tomorrow. Before she could clarify that she wasn’t working, he had sped off on his motorcycle into the dark of the night. YN should have known, though, that Harry knew she wasn’t working. It became even more clear when Ashley shouted at her from the kitchen at around midday today, telling her that her Rider was waiting for her.

Instead of the annoyance that YN felt the first time, there was a skip in her step this time. She had taken some time that morning to make herself look that little bit more presentable and waited for him. After their kiss the previous night in the office, and the slight peck that he had given her when she had climbed off his bike yesterday.

When she had bounced over to him earlier, a smile beaming on his face she didn’t have a single care as to what she would be doing that day – all she knew was that she was going to enjoy it. Even when she climbed on the back of his bike and asked where they were going – the smile never left her face. He refused to tell her, though, saying that it was a surprise.

“Harry, I don’t want to,” YN shook her head, hands grasping tightly onto the handles of the bike, “I’m going to fall off, or I’m going to crash your bike.”

What Harry had planned for the girl was to teach her how to ride. Whilst at the start YN had wanted nothing more than to learn how to ride, now that she was sitting on Harry’s bike without him there – she was terrified. Harry was standing close to her, cigarette dangling from his lips and an amused expression on his face.

“You’re not going to fall,” Harry shakes his head, “I’m right here… and I promise I won’t let you crash.”

“You can say that Harry, but you can’t promise,” YN was sitting on the bike, with her feet resting on the ground and absolutely no attempt at all to move.

He threw his cigarette on the floor, moving over so that he could wrap his arms around her waist, his hands coming to rest upon hers on the handle. He turned the engine on, and even though it was YN’s hands on the handle, Harry was controlling it. They went very slow – they had to so that Harry could walk at the side of them.

“I’m going to let go,” Harry spoke after a minute or so, but YN shook her head.

“I’m not ready,” YN pushed her body into his slightly, “I’m going to crash.”

“There’s nothing for you to crash into,” Harry peels one of his hands off of hers, “I trust you… you’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t as though he was lying. Harry had driven them out to a deserted road just out of town. Close enough away that they’d be home at a normal time, but far enough away that there wasn’t any traffic which would interrupt them. There wasn’t anything but stone and grass around them, and whilst if YN came to a haphazard stop, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing ever – there wasn’t a lot of damage that she could do to Harry’s bike.

Harry let go of her other hand, and she was doing it. Granted, she didn’t go over 2mph, but she was still riding the bike on her own. She wasn’t comfortable enough to attempt to turn yet, so she just came to a slow stop a few metres further down from where Harry was. She kicked the stand down and climbed off the bike – turning towards Harry with a smile on her face.

“I did it!” She bounced over to Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck, his coming to rest around her waist.

“Never doubted you,” He leaned down to place a kiss on her lips, pulling her body flush against his. Before anything more could happen, the sound of crunching on the road, as well as the sound of a siren interrupted them.

YN’s heart started to beat rapidly at the sight of a police car inching towards them. Whilst YN had dealt with police before working in her previous bars, she hadn’t ever been out in the open with her and only one other person when talking to them. Knowing that Harry also ran a motorcycle gang added another level of worry to it.

Harry just pulled YN with him, going to rest against his bike. He looked completely unfazed, whilst YN truly was shitting in her boots slightly. The police car stopped right in front of them, and as the door swung open to the car, Harry lit up a cigarette and brought it up to his lips – again, making it aware that he was completely unfazed by what was happening.

“Styles,” The officer sighed, slamming his car door behind him shit as he walked towards the two of them, “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Hmm,” Harry just hums, inhaling from his cigarette, “I had no idea you were even looking for me… I wouldn’t have just stood in the middle of the road if I knew.”

The officer chuckled, placing his hands on his hips, “We had reports last night that you attacked a man.”

Harry shook his head, “Couldn’t have been me.”

“It happened at your bar,” The officer took a step forward towards Harry, “Had reports that you hit him over the head with a beer bottle.”

Harry just chuckles, “Officer Thompson, I don’t have time for this he said she said bullshit. If you’ve got something to say to me, I think you should say it.”

The officer just hummed, “Where were you last night?”

“I was at the bar,” Harry nodded, “All night.”

YN started to panic from beside him, but she tried not to make it obvious. Harry must have complete and utter trust in his riders to not say anything to the police. It made sense now to YN as to why that man hadn’t been given a jacket. He had instigated the fight, and yet he had run straight to the police with it. He was a coward and a rat.

“Can anyone corroborate this?”

“I can,” YN was surprised at how strongly her voice came out, “I was there with him all night, I work there.”

The officer hums once more, his eyes dropping down to focus on Harry once more. YN realises that it’s then that the officer has spotted his bandaged hand. YN’s mind starts to spiral slightly, hoping that one of them will be able to come up with something quickly.

“What, uh,” The officer couldn’t hide the smile on his face, obviously thinking that he had found him out, “What happened to your hand, Styles?”

Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so YN interrupts. She giggles slightly, knowing exactly what type of character was going to be believable for this officer. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I’m so sorry, officer, that was my fault,” YN took a small step towards the officer, but not far enough that she wasn’t in arms reach of Harry, “See, I’m real clumsy. And yesterday, I dropped a whole crate of beer and Harry heard the crash, and he helped me clean up – unfortunately, he cut his hand in the process.”

The officer’s eyes moved between Harry and YN. There was no way at that point for YN to try and guess what he was thinking – or what he was going to say. Then, when the officer’s face broke out into a smile just the same as YN’s, she knew she had convinced him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, and I hope you have a good rest of your day,” Then the officer turned to Harry, and the smile on his face dropped, “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Styles.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it Officer Thompson.”

Harry rested against his bike the entire time, whilst YN had her arms crossed against her chest. They didn’t say another word to each other until they watched the car turn around and drive away from them. It was only then that YN turned to Harry, who was running a hand over his face. Sighing, YN walked over to him, grabbing his hands (but making sure to be careful of his injured hand).

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry shakes his head, pulling her hands up so that he can place a kiss on the back of them.

“I know,” YN nods, “But I wanted to.”

Harry rests his chin upon their connected hands, “I wanna take you somewhere.”

YN would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about where Harry lived once or twice because she had. He had been to her apartment a few times to pick her up, and whilst she hadn’t necessarily wanted to be that forward and ask him where he lived, there was a part of her which wondered about it.

It was a strange circumstance. Where does the leader of a gang live? Where does he rest his head at night? Where does make his coffee in the morning? Whilst YN wouldn’t necessarily admit it, she was an inquisitive person.  

When Harry’s bike came to a stop outside of a garage, one that seemingly had an apartment attached to the top of it – it all made sense. Yes, the bar had to be doing well, with how many people were in it daily. But there had to be another way that Harry was making money, and it seemed as though this was it. She wondered if this had anything to do with the shipments that the other man had been speaking about.

He kicked the standout and gave YN the space the climb off before he did. He walked over to the shutter, unlocked the padlock, and threw it open. The apartment didn’t look too big, but the shop itself was huge. She had expected a car, maybe a few bikes – but she hadn’t expected rows upon rows of bikes lining the side of the walls. In the middle, YN could see the different stations where Harry and some of the other members worked.

“Are these all yours?” YN asked, her finger reaching out to run across the glossy black exterior of one of the bikes closest to her.

“Most of them,” Harry shrugged, dropping the shutter closed behind the two of them after pushing his bike inside, “Me and a few others, we buy them and restore them, make them better to sell on.”

“God, Harry,” YN turns to him, an expression of what could only be described as amazement on her features, “This is amazing.”

He just offered her a small smile, taking small steps towards her until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her middle. YN giggled slightly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder as he pulled her closer to him.

“Pick one.”

The features on YN’s lips dropped again, “What?”

“Pick one,” Harry repeated, “A bike.”

“Yeah, I gathered that, Harry, I’m just confused as to why.”

He just shrugged, leaning back against the workbench near the two of them. YN turned around so that she was facing him, and Harry at once pressed his hands against her waist. It was funny to YN, to see the big, scary, gang member was so soft around her, and they hadn’t necessarily known each other very long.

“You said it yourself,” He shrugged, his hands pulling her between her body between his open legs, “If you’re gonna be a rider, you’ve got to ride. Seems like you need a bike to do that.”

“Yeah, but I’ll buy one,” YN spoke, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word, “When I have the cash for it.”

Harry shook his head, “No need, rather have you on one of these. Tested them myself, they’re all safe.”

YN just shook her head, propelling her body even further forward so that she could wrap her arms around Harry’s neck and press her lips against his. It was a clumsy kiss, with both of their teeth clashing and smiles upon their features but they did not care.

“Thank you,” She mumbled against his lips, pressing a flurry of chaste kisses to them afterwards.

Harry shook his head, “No need – pick one, baby.”

YN pushed her body up and started to walk up and down the rows of bikes until she spotted it. It was about halfway down the row, a bike with dark green glossy accents, looking nothing but sleek with the dark metal of the engine. It was the one that she wanted, and the second she was standing in front of it she knew it was hers. With that beaming smile across her features, YN turned and launched herself at Harry, wrapping her legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on the plump skin of her arse over her dark denim jeans. Even though YN suspected that she had caught him off guard, he didn’t show it on his face.

“How can I ever thank you?” She asked between a litter of kisses to his lips, a boyish smile crossing his features afterwards that YN wants nothing more than to bottle up and remember forever.

“That smile of yours is enough,” Harry nods at her, pressing another full kiss to her lips.

YN tilts her head to the side, turning to look at Harry with a slight smirk crossing her features. His eyebrows furrowed as though he already suspected she was coming up with something in her head.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Maybe…” YN starts, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, hesitating, “Maybe there’s another way I can thank you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, as though he was finally catching on to the thoughts swimming around in YN’s head.

“We don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head quickly. “I promise I’m not expecting anything from you.”

YN just shakes her head, leaning forward to place another kiss on his lips. Her hands tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I know you’re not,” YN offers him a smile, “I want to. I promise.”

Harry shook his head, a groan emitting from his lips as he tugged her even closer to him if that was possible. YN giggles at his obvious joy at her statement.

“God,” He rests his forehead against hers, “I know it’s wrong, but I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Harry turns, as though he’s going to walk out of the garage, but YN stops him. He furrows his eyebrows at her, and she just giggles once more.

“Want it here.”

“What?”

“Want it here, want you on the bench,” Harry groans once more, moving to drop her down upon the workbench that he had been rested upon earlier.

“Are you sure I haven’t dreamt you up?”

“Nope,” YN shakes her head, “I’m real.”

YN threads her fingers back through the curls at the nape of his neck, bringing his face back to hers. It doesn’t take long for their lips to connect once more. It wasn’t sweet or light. It was rough, as though both of them were finally able to do what they had both been thinking about.

Harry’s hands start to move down her body, resting on the hem of her jeans. She can feel his thumbs pressing down into the skin of her waist, and when it registers in her brain what he was trying to do YN pulls away, shaking her head.

“Not yet,” She lightly pushes his body to the side so that she can jump off the bench, “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“You don’t have to,” YN’s hands rest on the lapels of his jacket, waiting for his nod before she pushes it off his shoulders.

“I want to.”

It takes just one swipe for Harry to pull his shirt over his head whilst YN’s hands come to rest upon his belt buckle. YN’s eyes widen at the sight of his exposed chest, as well as the tattoos that litter his sin. YN knew that Harry had tattoos; she had seen the ones on his arms multiple times, but it felt different to see the ones on his chest.

Her fingers work quickly to pull Harry’s belt buckle open, working on the button and zip of his jeans next. YN drops down to her knees, pushing Harry back slightly so that he’s resting against the workbench. Harry peers down at her, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation. Her hand rests upon the grey material of his boxers, palming his already semi-hard cock through the light material.

“You like teasing?”

YN shrugs lightly, “I have no clue what you mean.”

Harry laughs, watching her intently as her fingers loop into the band of his boxers, pulling them down to expose him to her. YN finds herself unable to pull her eyes away from his cock. She knew it had to be big from palming him through his boxers but seeing it before she made her mouth water and pressure to build in the pit of her stomach.

She placed a light kiss on his tip, which was already red and leaking from his obvious arousal. YN smiled, giving it a lick from the base to the tip before she used her hand to give it a few tugs. YN was confident in her moves, even though she had only done it a few times before in her life. She gained more confidence from the moans leaving Harry’s lips; they were deep and quiet, but she could hear them, and they caused her to squeeze her thighs together in hopes that it would give her some relief.

“YN… please,” It almost sounded as though he was pleading with her to do something, and YN almost moaned at the sound.

YN wraps her lips around the tip of Harry’s cock, beginning to bob her head up and down. One of her hands rested upon his thigh, whilst the other wrapped around the base of his cock, helping her with what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her tongue lightly grazed his tip, earning a louder moan from Harry that egged her on further.

“Fuck… YN.”

Harry’s hands came to rest in her hair, helping her to move her head up and down his cock. It was a light tug that caused YN to moan around his cock, and she could feel Harry resisting from bucking his hips to meet her. Instead, she continued to bob her head, speeding up in hopes that it would help him recover from her teasing.

“YN gotta pull away,” Harry says after a minute or so, his grip on her hair tightening, “I’m gonna cum.”

YN doesn’t stop, however, instead, she keeps going until she hears him moan louder and start to cum down her throat. When she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed. She works her head up and down until he’s finished, only pulling away then. When she looks back up at him he has a look in his eyes that makes her assume that they aren’t done.

YN giggles as he puts his hands on her waist and pulls her up so she’s standing, immediately placing a kiss on her lips, seemingly not caring about the fact that his cum was on them. YN’s legs nearly gave out then and there, and she had to place her hands on his biceps to steady herself.

“Did that show my thanks?” She asked, tilting her head to the side innocently.

Harry wraps his arms around her thighs once more, picking her up effortlessly.

“Damn right, it did,” Harry starts to walk over to the door that she suspects goes into the house, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

It was quiet at Clover’s, a lull mid-afternoon on a Friday before everyone picked their spots for the night. YN had spent an hour or so cleaning and drying the glasses that had been used earlier in the day, making sure that they were to have enough for the night ahead.

The repeated motion of washing and drying gave her time to think, and more often than not, she found herself daydreaming about her morning, which she had spent in Harry’s bed, wrapped up in his arms. The two of them had been pretty inseparable before, but after he had gifted her the bike, it had seemingly gotten even worse, if that was possible. It had been weeks since that day, and YN could probably count on one hand the nights she had spent alone since then. Harry waited every night for her after work, and even when he couldn’t she would return to his house and wait for him there.

They hadn’t spoken about what they were necessarily, but that didn’t matter to YN. She didn’t need a label to know how she felt about Harry, and she assumed Harry felt about her also. For the first time in a long time YN was happy, and even though she was only a bartender and that useless history degree of hers wasn’t doing much – she wasn’t yearning for something else, for something better. YN truly felt as though it couldn’t get any better than it currently was.

The door to the bar pushed open, and whilst YN thought it was probably a rider coming in for a drink, she was shocked to see that it was Mick, obviously dropping in to start his shift. Thankfully, since YN had taken the day shift she didn’t have to stay until close tonight, meaning that she could spend more time in bed with Harry to end her week.

“Hey, YN,” She offered Mick a smile, “Just lemme drop my shit in the back and then you can go on break.”

“Thanks, Mick.”

Once he was back out, and she had passed over what she was doing to him, she made her way outside with the sandwich that Harry had made for her earlier. She was going to make her lunch, but Harry insisted that he make it for her. YN smiled at the memory of her sitting upon his kitchen counter, clad only in one of his t-shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts. They had laughed and joked and, at one point, had a break to dance around the kitchen to the song that was playing over the radio.

YN hadn’t had many relationships before, two at most she could think of, but they were never like this. They always felt transactional to YN. But with Harry, it truly felt as though they were two halves. There was a level of domesticity that YN loved more than anything with him, and every little task that they did together meant so much.

Once YN had eaten her sandwich, her thoughts filled with Harry and their morning. YN pulled her legs underneath her and began to read her book, knowing that she could get a chapter or so read before her break was over. It was a book about the Tudors she was reading, something that had been a passion of hers during her degree. It had been a while since she had read anything, but she supposed that the want came from her peace and happiness being restored.

She had just finished a chapter on Henry VIII’s Economic policy when she heard noise from the front of the bar. It was loud, and the voices that were speaking were quick, but it was muffled, so she couldn’t quite decipher what was being said. Putting her bookmark into place and closing the book, she pushed up from the chair and made her way towards the bar.

Mick was standing there, with three or four others in front of him. They looked panicked, and their words reflected that.

“Tell me again,” Mick placed his hands down on the counter, “I can’t tell a word you’re saying when you’re talking that quickly.”

“An accident, Mick,” It was Taylor who spoke, “There was an accident. We were riding along, and this truck came outta nowhere, sent him flying.”

YN moved towards them, her heart immediately starting to thump within her chest.

“Who?” Her words came out quickly, all of the men’s heads turning towards her, “Who went flying?”

“YN… I…” Taylor took a step towards her, his entire face dropping.

That was when she knew.

Her palms started to sweat, and her body felt heavy. There was a dizziness inside her head, and for one second she thought that she was going to fall to ground.

It was Harry.

“Where is he?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the tears finally starting to collect within her waterline.

“YN…” Mick started.

“No, Mick,” She shook her head, “Where is he? Tell me where he is!”

Taylor took another step closer towards her, “I don’t know. The woman in the store across the street from where it happened phoned an ambulance, I left before they came. If I hazard a guess, they’ll be on their way to the hospital by now.”

YN nodded and before she knew it she was stalking her way outside and towards her bike. Ignoring the tears that were clouding her vision she climbed upon. Just as she was about to start it, a hand touched her elbow. It was Mick. She almost broke down crying there and then.

“Don’t,” Mick shook his head, “You can’t drive like that, darlin’. Let Taylor take you. Please.”

“He has to be okay,” YN shook her head, the sobs starting to wrack through her body.

Mick nodded, helping her off the bike, “He will be. But, if you wanna get there safely, in one piece let the boys take you.”

YN nods, walking over to Taylor’s bike and hopping on behind him. Mick gave her hand one last squeeze.

“Send him my love, okay?” Mick spoke and YN nodded, not trusting herself to be able to reply in that moment.

Taylor started the engine, and before she knew anything, they were hurtling down the street. This time, though, she wasn’t thinking about the wind in her hair.

[forgodsgoddamnsake]

Belly Dancer - 11

Warning: smut, language, rough sex, slapping, AND SO MUCH CUTENESS.

You woke up before Harry did, his arm around you. Everything felt almost like a dream, you had the guy you had feelings for next to you, asleep, touching you. you got into the bathroom, took a shower.

You got out of the bathroom with a towel around your body, hair in a microfiber towel just to watch Harry scrolling on his phone, still on the bed. You took a seat on the chair by the vanity as his eyes looked at you over his phone with a lazy smile on his face, "Good morning, Rapunzel."

"G'morning, Gatsby." You said with a smile back. You took off your hair towel and started drying the ends using the towel.

"Jessica called, we'll meet for breakfast in half an hour before going to the beach so you better take a shower."

Harry nodded and placed his phone aside. He straightened his posture before he stretched his arms and legs. He yawned and got up, walking over to you, he was in his boxers at the time. He gave your temple a small kiss.

"Harry! My hair is all wet." You glared at him, but he just shrugged.

"Where's the issue? Why don't you use a hair dryer?" He asked, going to the wardrobe to get a new fresh pair of boxers.

"I don't use them as much, plus I'll use oil on my hair anyways." You said, grabbing the bottle of hair oil.

"Why's that?"

"Salt water can damage the hair, so I put oil on the hair, not the scalp, to protect my hair. Used this method back home and it works like magic." You said, massaging your hair with the hair oil. "Whenever I forget to do so my hair will be all fuzzy and I end up looking like a wicked witch." He chuckled at your words.

"Can you do mine, too?" He asked, running his fingers in his hair, walking towards the bathroom.

"Yeah, sure, baby." You answered finishing your hair just when you heard the shower run.

You stood up and took out a white bikini. You took off your towel, and pulled on your bikini. It was high material, had straps around the waist and belly, it was exposing your body perfectly and hugging all the right places. The top part of the bikini was sheer exept from the shape of the flower that covered your nipples and a good part of your breasts.

Harry got out of the shower with the fresh pair of boxers on, but stopped when he looked at you.

"What in hell is that?" He arched an eyebrow.

"What is what?" You asked, putting on sunscreen all over your body.

"Turn around, want to see it." He crosse his arms, walking towards you.

"Why?" You stopped with the sunscreen, furrowing your eyebrows.

"As I said, I want to see it." He gave you no expression and you were in no mood to fight so you turned around then faced him.

"Well, that's revealing." He commented looking at your hips and breasts.

"It's a swimsuit, Harry." You huffed.

You were happy that he was jealous, but bothered because no way in hell were you changing for him.

"I don't like it."

"Well, too bad, I'm wearing it." You rolled your eyes.

"Love, I'm not saying that you can't wear it. I don't have a say in this, yet." He spelled 'yet' slowly, you raised your eyebrows at him once he finished his sentence so he huffed. "Fine, as long as I'm with you, you can wear what you want."

"I beg your pardon?"

"All I'm saying is that you are already attractive, plus that revealing bikini, I should be making sure that no bugger think they have a chance with you." He raised his hands in surrender. "Wear whatever you want, love, you're all mine." He smirked pulling you against him.

"Don't you like my swimsuit?" You pouted putting your arms around his neck, his eyes were walking over your exposed flesh.

"I love it, baby. It's just so sexy, makes me want to rip it off of you." He bit his lip before kissing down on your neck, you hummed at his touch.

"Stop it, Harry. We gotta go." You breathed and he huffed, pulling away from your neck.

"Fine, just put on a beach dress or something." He looked at you with puppy eyes, you rolled your eyes, "Fine, put some clothes on you too okay?"

He smiled almost to himself that you listened to him.

--

"You're late." Jessica glared as you and Harry walked over to the table they were having breakfast on.

You had a white fishnet beach dress on over your bikini.

Noah gave you a fake disgusted look, you gave him the finger in return. "Good morning to you too." You said directly to Noah as you sat down, facing Jessica and Noah.

Good thing that the hotel was for adults only.

Angela sat there eating her breakfast in silence.

Harry said good morning to everyone before he asked you, "Love, what do you want for breakfast?"

"Anything, H, but don't fill my plate, please." You said with a smile before he kissed your temple and left to get you both breakfast.

You loved that he always kissed you in front of people with no shame, it made you feel safe somehow.

"Look who got herself knocked up." Jessica teased as she reached to point at your visible hickeys that Harry gave you the night before when he took you in front of fhe mirror.

"Shut up, bitch." You rolled your eyes in embarrassment.

"Wow, y/n, you kiss him with that mouth?" Noah teased, eating his omelette.

"We do a lot of things, wanna hear?" You winked at him and he stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"Ugh, please, no."

"I'll be happy to tell you that he spent all night licki-" You were cut off by Noah placing two fingers in his ears and screaming so he wouldn't hear a thing.

You and Jessica laughed at him. Noah was a really good person, and you loved the type of friendship you had with him. He made Jessica happy, and that was all you cared about. He pulled his fingers away from his ears and you got your attention back to Jessica, "Why didn't you tell me that sex was this fun?" You giggled but got an eyes roll from Noah.

"Shit, here we go again." He sipped from his coffee as you and Jessica kept chatting.

Angela was there, sitting, eating in silence. But she was listening to everything you said. Like always, Angela was the person that was always there and almost felt invisible. They can hear and see everything, but not talk.

Harry got back with your plate and a coffee for you, you gave him a thank you and he gave you a smile, then went again to get himself a plate and coffee.

Just when he sat down next to you, you were starting eating, giggling with Jessica and teasing Noah. You felt Angela so quiet, you couldn't bear it, you didn't want her to feel left out.

"Ang, you look beautiful in this beach dress." You smiled at her and she gave you a shy smile back.

"Thank you, y/n, yours looks lovely." She kind of whispered.

"How's Elijah?" You asked before taking a bite of your toast.

"He's well, but he's mad at me." She shrugged, hopelessly.

"Of course, he is, Angela. You don't spend time with him at all." Jessica said and you hit her leg under the table. Angela's expressions went down even more after what Jessica said so you glared at her.

"What? I'm just saying. Moms should spend time with their kids, my mom never did and it still pisses me off." Jessica defended herself.

"It depends on why she can't spend time with him. Angela is working her ass off to provide for her son, to help him get into the college he deserves when he's older. She's a single mother to a ten year old kid for god's sake." You said, actually frustrated with Jessica.

"I wasn't trying to sound harsh, I swear. It's just... kids don't see things the way we do, they think that the parents are putting their job above them." Jessica explained softly. "Sorry, Ang, I didn't mean to sound so harsh on you."

"It's okay, I understand." Angela gave Jessica a small smile and then there was this awkward silence.

"We're here to have fun, okay?" Noah broke the silence.

"Yeah, no need for fights." Harry approved.

"That wasn't a fight, you should watch when Jessica and y/n like really fight." Noah smirked. Noah loved causing fights between you and Jessica. It was his thing.

"How does that go?" Harry chuckled.

"Shut up, Noah." Jessica warned Noah.

"I'll have to show you." Noah's smirk grew wider. "Y/N, Jess told me all about the nipple piercing."

Your eyes grew wide and looked at Jessica who hid her face with her hands. "You slut!"

"It just came up!"

You reached and slapped her face lightly, her mouth went open and pulled at your hair. Noah got comfortable on his seat as he watched you.

"Should we stop them?" Harry looked at Noah who was laughing when you and Jessica started pushing each other, having a silly fight.

"Hell no, let's throw food on them!" Noah laughed.

Harry and Noah were enjoying your fight while Angela giggled a little at how you and Jessica fought like two kids in kindergarten.

"Guys, I think we really should stop them." Angela said as you grabbed Jessica's arm and started biting it. The fight was getting serious.

"Damn we should!" Noah exclaimed as he grabbed Jessica by the waist, trying to pull her away from you, while Harry, too, stood to get you away from her.

"You're going down, bitch!" Jessica panted, trying to push you away from her. Harry and Noah tried to make you let go of Jessica's arm, but no help. Feisty, you were.

Harry carried you on his shoulder, so your belly was on his shoulder, but your back was straight enough to look at Jessica as Harry was walking away with you on his shoulder. That was enough to make you let her go.

"Next time I'll bite your head off!" You yelled at her.

Harry kept walking with you on his shoulder, but you kept kicking him to let you go. He walked out the hotel with you still on his shoulder, "If you don't stop kicking me, I'll spank you in the reception. I swear to god!" He warned you.

"Let me go, Harry, people are looking at us."

"Is that so?"

You looked up and saw Jessica, Noah and Angela walking less than a feet away from you and Harry. You pulled your middle finger up at Jessica. That enraged her, she ran over to you so she can hit you, Noah ran behind her to pull her away.

You started fighting with her while you were on Harry's shoulder, arms going everywhere to try and hit each other.

"Stop it, Jess!" Noah panted, holding her by the waist.

You stopped fighting and when you were about to reach the beach that was so close already, you said to Harry, "Let me down, please my stomach hurts."

"If I do, will you be civil?"

"Pinky promise."

He put you down gently and you made eye contact with Jessica as she mouthed, "I'll kill you."

You pulled your hair up with your scrunchie, "Let me get that bitch!" You tried to walk towards her, but Harry kept you in place with his arms.

"Bring it on!" She exclaimed.

"I swear to God if you both don't stop it, I'll lock you in a room till you snatch each other's heads off!" Noah panted, tired of holding down Jessica.

"You started it, Noah!" Harry, panted, holding you.

You locked evil eyes with Jessica.

"Okay, okay, I'll be civil if she is, too!" Jessica said.

"Fine!" You lift your hands up in surrender.

Harry cautiously let go of you as Noah did, you kept your gaze on Jessica.

"Oh my god, we bought that together!" You squealed, pointing at her slippers.

"Yes, I love it!" She squealed as well, you went hand in hand as you both chatted about the slippers you got together while walking on the sandy beach.

Harry and Noah stood there, staring at you both, not believing that you were just biting and calling each other names.

Angela walked past them, holding three beach bags, one was yours and one was Jessica's, she giggled as she watched Harry and Noah's expressions.

"Girls." She commented, following you and Jessica.

--

You took one of the towels you brought and put it on the sand, took off your beach dress, you could feel Harry's eyes on you the whole time from his deck chair, Harry had blue swim shorts along with white loose soft shirt on. His abs and tattoos were made to make girls go nuts, but you didn't mind him showing it off like he was minding you showing off your body in the sheer bikini that only covered the intimate spots. His eyes found a group of guys chanting as you took off your beach dress but that you didn't care about.

You laid on your stomach on the towel and untangled the straps of the top of your bikini. Harry bit on his lip, his possessive side got the best of him at that point, he found himself standing on his feet taking off his shirt.

Angela was on the deck chair next to Harry's. Jessica and Noah didn't waste time and were already swimming in the ocean.

"Mr. Styles," Angela started, taking his attention.

Angela wore a floral one piece swimsuit, she was listening to music which she paused to get Harry's attention.

"Please, darling, call me Harry." He smiled softly at her.

"Okay, Harry." She smiled. "Do you need help with sunscreen?"

He was startled a little, but she was an innocent, shy person so he nodded at her. He sat on his deck chair, his back facing her, he gave her the bottle of sunscreen. She took it from him and spurted some on her palm, Harry's eyes were on you, thinking.

You had your earbuds on, listening to music, enjoying the sun. Your eyes were closed behind the sunglasses you had on so you didn't watch Angela's fingers spreading the sunscreen on Harry's skin.

Harry's mind was thinking of the deal he had with Ray...

“You like being the first, eh?” Ray’s smirk widened and Harry smirked along.

"Very."

“It’s a deal.” Harry answered, crushing his cigarette in his own ashtray, almost burning the tips of his fingers in the process.

“Then when can I have her?”

“As you said, I like being the first. I like taking my time.”

“Is it a deal then?” Ray crushed the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray.

He felt uncomfortable when Angela's fingers were getting dangerously closer to the hem of his swimsuit especially that it felt like she was trying to dip her fingers into his skin so he stood up immediately with an awkward smile. "Thank you, Angela." He thanked her and walked towards you, leaving her watching him take a seat next to you on the sand, taking one earbud from your ear before he whispered something in your ear that made you laugh.

"You need to stay away from the sun till your skin absorbs the sunscreen." You told Harry who had one earbud of yours on, listening to whatever you were listening to.

"I will if you come with me, I don't want to be all alone." He pouted and you grabbed his cheeks and made him lean in to give him a kiss on his delicious lips.

"Okay, but first, tie my top." You pointed at the straps. "Unless you want people to check the color of my nipp-"

"No need to say such horrible things." He smirked, tying your straps.

He helped you up, you took Harry's hand and walked towards your spot. Angela was still listening to music, looking at the blue ocean.

You tapped on her shoulder and she paused the music and looked at you, "Did you say something, y/n?"

"You're having next week off, honey, paid." You smiled at her and she smiled back.

Harry had already sat on the deck chair next to Angela's, thighs apart, you took a seat between his thighs, still listening to music.

"Beggin'" by Maneskin was on.

You both started singing, playfully, acting the lyrics.

I'm on my knees when I'm beggin'

Cause I don't wanna lose you

You were swinging your arms around, Harry's hands held yours so you both swing your arms together.

You had so much fun, singing together, till he took out your earbud, placed them where they belonged. He held you right in his arms, his chin on your shoulder, eyes on the ocean that had few people swimming.

"I wish we could stay like this forever." You said, smiling at the ocean.

"We can."

"How so?"

"We can make it work, every year at the same time, we can come here."

"Oh, so you're making future plans with me?" You were kind of surprised. Good surprise, though.

"Why wouldn't I?" He asked, confused.

The hell with waiting, Jess. You thought to yourself.

"We are just dating, H, for about seven months now. I don't know how long it takes here, so you're thinking of our future, that's news to me."

"Ugh, y/n, I like you, that's all that matters."

"But?"

"But what?"

"I thought there was a but."

"No buts, I like you, I think you like me, too."

"I do."

You were kind of confused, maybe because that's not how things went back home. If he thought that you were his, why wouldn't he ask you to become his girlfriend? But you had to suck it in, you were new to this whole thing and had little knowledge of how dating works there.

Jessica and Noah got out of the water, panting and laughing, reaching for their towels. Jessica's hair splashed you with water, "Hey! You're annoying." You scolded her.

"You love birds need to get into the water, it's so good." She said, drying her body with the towel.

"Let's test the water?" You tilted your head back into Harry's chest, looking at him.

"Whatever you want, princess." He smiled at you, kissing your eye.

You both got up, hand in hand. You looked over at Angela, "Honey, don't you wanna swim with us?"

"Thanks, y/n, I'm fine." She gave you a small smile, you nodded at her and went towards the water.

Angela's eyes were on you both all the time, when you ran in front of him and him running after you, he caught you and carried you bridal style and got you both into the water. Her expressions didn't say much, but Jessica noticed Angela's eyes.

Noah took Jessica's attention, "I'm happy for her, she deserves happiness." He was laying on the deck chair, wearing his sunglasses.

Jessica looked at you and Harry, you were splashing each other with water before he caught you, grabbed you for a passionate wet kiss, then her eyes looked over at Angela to see her lips curl upside down.

"I don't think all of us are happy for her." Jessica whispered almost to herself, but Noah didn't hear it.

"What was that, babe?" He asked.

"Nothing, Nu." She answered, eyes going between you and Angela.

--

"What should I wear, H?" You raised two dresses in their hangers.

Your body got the tan you wished for, it was good for your performance tomorrow. You all decided to have dinner at a beach restaurant close to the hotel

One dress was navy blue, glittery, short and the back almost non existent. The other dress was red silk, short, not covering much cleavage.

He looked over at both dresses.

"You look breathtaking in anything, love." He smiled.

"Okay, which one makes you feel more urged to do me?"

He smirked, "The red one."

"Red dress it is." You said, throwing the other dress on the bed. "Let me ask you random a question."

"Go ahead."

"What's the thing you wanna change about yourself? Like in your personality."

"Hmm, that's a tough question." He took a few moments to think. "I want to change how I react when bad things happen."

"How do you react?"

"Sometimes, I lose my temper, some other times I just lose track of what's actually happening."

"How so?"

"I don't know. I just feel like I'm in a bubble and everything is happening in the background. What about you?"

"I want to change my anger. If I ever lose my temper and get angry, damn, I become so aggressive." You said as you were taking off your towel, standing naked before Harry.

"I don't think I saw you that angry before." He said, looking at your naked figure.

"Thank god! You'd lose interest in me just like that." You snapped two fingers before putting on your baby blue lace panties. You weren't going to wear a bra because of the dress.

"What happens when you get angry?"

"Oh, you don't wanna know." You put your dress on, making sure that your breasts look good.

"Try me." He stood up, walking towards the wardrobe to take out his clothes.

"Get me angry and you'll see." You winked, spurting some leave-in cream on your hair, scrunching your hair in front of the mirror, still standing on your feet.

"I don't want to make you angry, I want to make you pleased." He smirked throwing his clothes on the bed, walking towards you and stopping right behind you.

"Oh, no, you just fucked me in the bathroom." You giggled when he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

"Just a quickie." He whispered as he kissed your the hickeys he gave you. "I want to see you at the table, knowing that I just fucked you in this tight short dress."

You smiled at his words, pressing your ass against his dick that was growing harder in his boxers.

"Can't say no to the man that fucks me good." You hummed as his hand went under your dress. His fingers brushed against your pussy over your panties, then pulled it down a little mid-thigh. He lifted your dress up to see your ass, his eyes sparkling with lust and hunger for your skin.

"You love it, don't you, princess?" He asked, but didn't give you time to answer as he gave you a hard spank on your ass, gaining a loud moan from you.

"Oh god, Harry." You moaned.

"I love it when you say my name. Say it again." He whispered on your ear, spanking you one more time. You felt your ass getting warmer and was sure that his big hand left a mark on you.

"Harry," You breathed, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second. "Fuck me."

He pulled you towards the bed, you hit the back of your knees on the edge of the bed so you fell back, laying on the soft sheets.

He pulled your legs up and spread them, your pussy on full display before his eyes. He didn't waste a minute, his head got in between your thighs and he started sucking your pussy lips and all your pussy juices.

Cloud nine, you were there.

His tongue went up and down on your clit that got you to dig your fingers on his soft hair and eye roll back.

"Oh, god, yes!" You screamed repeating 'Yes' many times.

His eyes looked up at you, watching the dress as it was pulled up on your waist. He reached to get your breasts out of the dress, squeezing them and twisting the nipples to get them hard and nice for him as he was nibbing on your clit.

"That's so good, baby," You squirmed and mumbled something in a foreign language he thought was Italian or Spanish.

Slowly, he slid two fingers in your pussy, his mouth still sucking on your tiny clit. His fingers were fucking your hole deep inside, and so fast you could faint in pleasure.

The sound of his fingers fucking your wetness got him over the edge, he couldn't handle the pressure in his boxers so he let go of you and didn't pay attention to your whining when he pulled away.

"You're a bastard!" You whined, panting and kicked him slightly in his abdomen.

He glared at you, pulled a condom from the drawer of the nightstand next to him, ripped it open with his mouth. Your fingers ran on your clit to rub to get some pleasure.

He got his cock and balls out of the boxers, wrapped his dick in the condom, and slapped your hands away. And then you were taken by surprise with the light slap on your cheek that he gave you just when he entered your pussy hard.

"Holy shit!" You breathed.

"You're calling me a bastard, huh?" He glared at you as he was giving you slow but so fucking hard thrusts. "I'll fucking ruin you."

"Fuck yes! Ruin me, please." You screamed in pure pleasure, nails dugging deep in your spread thighs.

He grabbed you by the neck and made you look at where you both were connected, his forehead against yours.

"See that? This is where the bastard is, you little slut." He said, his other hand on your lower belly.

"Yes, Harry, yes, I'm sorry!" You breathed.

He gave you another small slap on the cheek as his thrusts became faster, his other hand still pulling your head to watch yourself getting fucked with his cock.

"Bet you are, princess." He said, between panting. He got his dick out, rubbed it between your pussy lips and then thrust in you again. He did that a couple of times. Your eyes rolled back a little, filled with pleasure.

You clenched around him as you were about to cum, but you couldn't say anything so you just kept calling his name at the top of your lungs.

"Shit! Do that again and I won't be able to control myself." He hissed at the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock. He fucked you faster as if it was the last thing he'd do in his life, giving low moans.

You bit your bottom lip, looked into his eyes and clenched again on him as you came from your high, losing control of your body.

"God yes!" You screamed, body shaking and with zero control your body pulled away from his cock halfway.

"Holy fuck!" He whined as he came, also, with zero control. He gave you a deep thrust as he was shooting his sperm inside the condom, holding onto you for dear life.

He let go of your neck, letting you fall on the bed, breasts going up and down as you panted. He straightened up and pulled out of your pussy, looking into your eyes.

"Bad pussy!" He said, giving your pussy a small slap.

You squinted a little then laughed, legs falling down.

"You dared me to clench and I did." You shrugged. He leaned in on you, hovering over you, catching your lips with his for a hard kiss.

"I love us in bed." He whispered.

"And I love being your slut." You winked.

--

All five of you were having fancy dinner and fancy wine. Although you were not a fan of fancy places, your friends and Harry made things more comfortable for you.

It had been so long since you had dated, not since your ex. You learned your lesson to not let any guy in, but something was different with Harry. Things were easy with him, you didn't have to care about everything in his presence. He took care of everything and you just went along, you turned off your mind when he was with you. You trusted him, and that was something you tried to deny.

Harry's hand on your thigh. He had a white shirt on that had black dots on it, his fingers were beautified with rings, especially the rings with his initials.

"Have any of you guys ever traveled anywhere?" Harry asked, sipping from his glass of fine wine.

"Hmm, let me think about it." You answered, taking a bite of your steak.

"I visited India and the maldives." Jessica answered, sipping from her glass of wine.

"I grew up in France, my father is originally french. But I didn't visit any other country." Noah said, shrugging.

"Oh my god! You speak french!" You squealed.

"Bien sur que oui!" Noah smiled widely.

"Je parle français aussi!" You squealed again, chatting with Noah in french.

Harry and Jessica's eyes went between you too as you went on and on with Noah in French. They both had that look, they didn't understand a word you said but they looked stunned anyways.

"Did you know she spoke French?" Harry asked, looking at you, his question was directed to Jessica who took another sip from her wine.

"No idea, she only told me she spoke Arabic and English."

"And Italian." He added.

"Okay, wait up, french fry." Jessica intervened in the conversation between you and Noah. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Why?" You gave a dorky smile.

"Because I just counted 5 languages." Harry answered.

"Five!" Jessica's mouth went open.

"Yeah, she sang in Spanish one time, she was fluent."

"Are you a spy? Your French was perfect. How many languages?" Noah smirked.

"Okay, okay, guys, I speak 8 languages." You said, looking proud of yourself.

"Get out of here!" Noah exclaimed, all of their faces not believing you.

"Arabic, English, Spanish, Italian, French, Swedish, Nubian, and last but not least German." You finished your glass by the end of the sentence.

"How in hell did you manage that?" Jessica asked.

"I had free time." You shrugged.

"Seriously?" Noah raised a brow at you.

"I was always good with languages, so I took my chances and learned languages from a young age." You got more comfortable on your seat, proud that you stunned them.

"And you're fluent in all of them?" Harry asked, giving a smile. He liked that you were so smart to the point that made you learn 8 languages.

"Of course not, I have an accent, but I know how to keep a conversation going."

"Imagine a girl that can moan in 8 languages." Noah smirked.

"Shut the hell up!" You coughed.

"Man's got a point, y/n." Harry smirked, his hand tightening on your thigh.

"Tell us more about you, Harry. What do you do for a living?" Jessica asked. She wanted to know more about him. Jessica spent nights, comforting you from your bad dreams, saw you at your worst, and that's why she felt the urge to protect you.

"Um, I'm a business man." He answered, touching the tip of his nose. You noticed that his body language said that he was trying to hide the truth.

"That's vague." Jessica raised a brow, not believing him.

"Harry doesn't like talking about his work too much." You intervened so Jessica would drop it. She took the hint and stopped.

"Fair enough, when did you come to America?" Noah asked, finishing his plate.

"A long time ago, I came here to work in our family business, my mother and sister are still in England."

"Do you see them often?" Jessica asked, trying to catch if he was a family man or just a guy that left his whole family behind.

"Actually, yeah. Sometimes they visit me, but mostly I'm the one doing all the visits. Gemma, my sister, is married and now she's pregnant so it'll become even harder for them to visit." He answered, truthfully. "What about you guys? Tell me about yourselves." Harry asked the three of them.

"I work as a general manager to a hardware company. Boring job, but I like it anyways. I have a degree in computer science." Noah answered.

"As for me, I thought of dancing for some time and then let it slide. I wasn't very good to begin with. Now I own and run a beauty salon." Jessica answered.

"That's actually impressive, guys." Harry said before his eyes looked at Angela who was looking at her plate, like she was not even listening. But she was. "What about you, Angela?"

"Ugh, um, there is nothing to say." She stutterd.

"Oh, come on!" You encouraged her.

She cleared her throat, "I dropped out of school when I had Elijah, his father didn't want anything to do with him and my parents kicked me out so I had to work. A friend recommended me to Sam, Y/n's friend. And I've been working with her ever since she started dancing."

"That is also impressive. If I were you, I wouldn't be able to handle all of this." You gave her a warm smile.

"True, not everyone can take responsibility like you did." Harry nodded and all of them nodded along. His eyes looked at you, arching an eyebrow, "What about you, Rapunzel?"

"I have a degree in accounting."

"Wow, you never told me that." Harry smiled, loving knowing more information about you. "What else?"

"I had a few small jobs, worked as an accountant for a while, then a content specialist and that was when I came to America." You continued. "Now, and that's news to all of you, I'm thinking of opening my own club."

"What!?" Jessica's eyes widened in happiness and surprise.

"Really? That's awesome, y/n." Noah smiled and gave you a high five across the table.

"How come you never told me? We're together almost every day." Harry asked you, looking happy as ever.

"I had to get things together first, Sam is searching for a place to draw traffic. I plan on making it different, oriental style." You smiled, happy that you were taking right steps in your career.

"How oriental?" Harry asked.

"It will look like clubs in the middle east. You'll see, you're gonna love it." As soon as you finished your sentence, Harry brought you closer to kiss your temple.

"I'm so proud of you, y/n." He kissed your cheek.

"Ugh, get a room." Noah rolled his eyes.

"I'm so happy for you, ahhhh!" Jessica squealed, bringing you in for a hug.

Maybe you decided not to notice, but Jessica when she pulled away from the hug, noticed that Angela was the only one that didn't have an expression on her face nor said a single word of congratulations.

--

The trip was so fun, you got to spend a lot of time with Harry, got to know him better and every time he was present you felt happy.

All the things you refused to see at the beginning, you saw then. His emerald green eyes that you never cared about, were making you dig deep into them, thinking how a pair of eyes could make your heart race. His lips made you want to kiss them all the time, his smile meant that everything was fine. The world felt peaceful just because he smiled at you, the moon felt larger if he looked at it, the sun felt brighter just because its rays hit his skin, and the air felt thinner just because he breathed it.

You never fell in love with someone's eyes, lips, skin, body and soul like you did with Harry's.

In Harry's point of view...

And as for him. If he could write poems, he'd write poems about her till the end of time. She could ask for or demand a star from the sky, even if it was impossible, he would bring one down for her.

To him, he could catch her voice among a thousand voices, like a million violin playing together, no poems could describe it. He wanted her to own him, catch him, and take him wherever, however she wanted. With her, he felt freedom, he was free of everything, and that freedom made him fall in love with her.

Patience was not his best quality, the pain he felt in everything in his life, the burdens, and every agony he faced in his life could not stop him from falling in love with her.

As if life was a feather flying with the wind, he felt with her. Sometimes, he wished that she could stop being herself so he wouldn't fall that hard. Womanizer, he was, but not anymore. She made herself at home in his heart, there was no place for anyone but her.

The way she smiled, swayed, laughed lightly or hard, flicked her hair, and every time he felt her touch, brought him down on his knees. On his mind, he thought, she was so soft, she could fall in a cup of milk and it would still be as clear.

If she was not with him, she was still present. If he saw her standing away, she was still present. She became his soul, he could not let her go. She stayed at his heart, and he locked it behind her.

He fell in love.

--

It was the last day of the trip, you packed your stuff and decided to take some drinks with Harry at the hotel's bar. You wore a floral short dress, the anklet he bought you wore around your skin as if it was a part of him touching you. He was in green shorts and white shirt that was half buttoned.

You both took a seat at the bar and just then he asked you, "What do you want, love?"

"A martini, please." You smiled at him.

He motioned to the bartender who came to take your order, "Martini and one neat whiskey." Harry said to the bartender who nodded.

"Are you still going to take the next week off?" He asked you, you both facing each other.

"Yeah, I am so tired. I need to have some time off, my body is killing me." You nodded.

"If so, why don't you stay at my mansion next week?" He asked before the bartender brought you your drinks.

"Thank you." You thanked the bartender. "I don't know, Harry."

"Why? Bring some stuff and stay with me, I love having you around." He said, truthfully, sipping his whiskey.

"I think we can do that after I give you my surprise. To see if you will still want me to stay with you." You said, nervously, holding your glass.

"Oh, what surprise?"

"I hope it's a good one." You nodded your head to something behind Harry.

His eyebrows were furrowed, he didn't understand what you wanted so you nodded at something behind him again. He turned his head only to see Michael's face, standing behind him. He took a seat next to Harry, and he looked so nervous and only gave a hint of a smile.

"Hell no." Harry said, blantly.

--

What do you think so far?

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie I

~8.4k words

From me: here she is. gonna be at least one more part (probs 2) sorry. I didn't mean to do a series. I just can't shut up and I introduced too many fun characters. I don't know a lot about hockey so a lot of this is probably unrealistic.

Warnings: douchey ex-boyfriend, a little violent (it's hockey after all)

Summary: When the assistant coach's niece comes to take pictures of the team, her lens isn't the only thing capturing Harry Styles heart and soul on and off the ice. Harry wants to win her over more than he wants to win the entire league championship. (Although it would be nice to rub it in her ex's stupid face if he won that too).

The rink was chilly even with the appropriate clothes on. Despite the fact she practically lived in ice arenas for the two years, it never ceased to catch her off guard with how cold it was. To be fair, she was a lot closer to the ice this time around. Her camera pressed into the little glass cutout, her eye checking the visual before she clicked the shutter.

Quickly she pulled away as two of the guys pressed against the glass right next to her. “Hey Sweetheart,” Noah Ashford smiled briefly as he skated off in the other direction. She rolled her eyes. Uncle Charlie, assistant coach of The Arctic Chargers, warned the entire team that his niece was taking residence at the rink and would be part of media photos, headshots, and would be submitting to all major sport reporting outlets. The team was told without question, not to bother her in any way.

Naturally the group of twenty twenty-something year-old hockey players were going to do nothing of the sort.

Captain Evander Langston swished almost gracefully over to her. He stopped in front of her with a puff of ice at his feet. “Do you think I have a good side?”

She shook her head with a smirk and looked over the photos she just took in the last three minutes. “Probably not the left. You’ve been checked into the board over there about five times this practice alone.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Sweetheart, you wound me.”  Sweetheart was the name Uncle Charlie called her in front of the whole team during the introduction and so it was the only thing any of them paid attention to from their coach. “Don’t say that in front of the others,” he pleaded quietly.

“I would never, Cap,” she smiled kindly.

He returned her grin with his own. “You call me Cap, and I’m going to have a problem with Coach’s rule, Sweetheart. But I know we’re all going to like having you around to keep us in check.”

“Lang, you better not be flirting when your technique needs work!” Kian Calloway shouted across the ice where he slapped a puck into the open net from the blue line.

“You better not be flirting, period, Lang!” Uncle Charlie called.

“Yeah!” Callie repeated to his captain. She had gone over the nicknames with her uncle before starting. Lang, Asher, and Callie were easy and as some of the major stars of the team, it made sense she would chat with them most. “If anyone is going to flirt with her, it’s going to be me!”

“I’ll sit you for less, Callie,” Charlie warned.

She couldn’t help but laugh. But she didn’t mind the attention nor care. It was adorable. Like a group of puppies looking for attention. With a shake of her head, she made her way around the glass and boards for another angle of the players on the ice. She wanted shots of the goalie. Niall Horan seemed much too nice to be a hockey player but perhaps that’s why he was the goalie. He was the first one to introduce himself and he didn’t seem to have the temper that the other players did over trivial things (like tying skates together or putting salt in someone’s Gatorade). Niall blocked shots from his teammates as if it was nothing but breathing. In a way it was stunning, nearly beautiful.

Hockey was violent, yes. But there was beauty in it, too. The way players skated backwards, cupped the puck on their stick. The speed, agility, and gracefulness required to stay standing. It was all really beautiful, and she was excited to be up close this time around. For the last two or so years she had been in a box cheering for her ex-boyfriend, right forward for the Glacier Wolves, Kael Crowe.

To be completely honest, she should have known it wouldn’t have worked out. Among the cheating, the belittling, and all the other things that were, in hindsight, an abysmal part of dating him, the orange and blue coloring wasn’t her favorite. The Arctic Chargers black and silver jerseys were much more her speed. Kael was her boyfriend of years and years but once he made it to the majors three years ago, things were very different.

“You can come on the ice, Sweetheart, we’re almost done!” Asher said.

Even though she had dated a hockey player for nearly a decade (most of which took place during college) she couldn’t skate. Uncle Charlie tried when she was younger to teach her, but the balance and coordination was not in her wheelhouse. She longed to skate better. Figure skaters were so dainty and beautiful as they glided on the ice. She was neither of those things and almost dreaded getting on the ice in the boots she was wearing. If she fell in front of her uncle, it was embarrassing. She could only imagine how embarrassing it would be in front of an entire professional hockey team.

“One second!”

She wanted to prolong the agony. Plus, with her fragile camera it seemed like a death sentence to send her out there. Even if it was what she was getting paid to do. It wasn’t the most lucrative job she had, but it was what she wanted to do most. She was grateful for the opportunity and hoped it would kickstart into something more. Photography was a major passion for her. Pictures of anything. Her computer was filled with pictures of the sun and sky from the summer. Snowy days in the winter. Pictures of her parents’ dog. Her uncle’s kids on birthdays. She was the official photographer of family weddings and more. But it wasn’t steady. A lot of her post-college young life had been put on hold to dote on Kael. Something she regretted but couldn’t do anything about now.

Uncle Charlie was kind to help her out and she thought starting now was better than never starting at all.

“Styles is that you?!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t piss yourselves in excitement,” the voice was right beside her.

“You better be fucking cleared before touching this rink,” Ray Wheeler, head coach and another surrogate uncle to her was a bit gruffer in his delivery to the players than Charlie most of the time.

The man beside her slapped his hand, paper held pressed to the glass. “Doctor-cleared for takeoff,” he called. A round of cheers went up and she snapped another picture of the excitement, ignoring the one and only Harry Styles beside her.

Harry Styles was Kael’s rival. The same draft class (although begrudgingly, Kael would admit Harry went first), and almost the same position—left forward. Fortunately, they were in different conferences, so they only ever played one another twice a season. Unless they made it to finals which hadn’t happened yet. But in her opinion, it was only a matter of time. Harry made headlines for his skill and ability, fitness, and overall dominance on the ice. He was protective of his best friend in goal—he and Niall were a pair like no other. Which meant when they did play each other, Kael knew exactly how to get under Harry’s skin.

“Who are you?” He asked.

Harry wasn’t here for her formal introduction to the team. Before she could open her mouth, Uncle Charlie was there. “That’s my niece Styles. She’s off limits so just make your way to the locker room.”

“Ah,” he smiled.

It should have been noted that in addition to skill and ability, fitness, and dominance on the ice, Harry was one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His eyes were green which sure as hell meant God was in fact a woman because no man would know to make Harry even more beautiful with forest green eyes. He was tall, even taller on skates. His skin glowed in a way that should have been illegal when she spent half an hour dousing her face in ten moisturizing products each night to achieve the same look and Harry spent most of his time indoors on an ice rink. Was it the chill that made his cheeks pinker? Would she get the same glow working here all season? She could only hope.

But it was that smile that did her in. His straight teeth peeking out from his lips. The dimples. The arrogance behind the expression. The pink curve of his upturned lips went right through her as he grinned at her.

“Nice t’meet you,” he held his hand out.

“Hands off!” Charlie shouted again.

Harry chuckled as she took his hand with an eyeroll introducing herself. “I’m your photo media specialist, if you will.”

“Excellent,” Harry grinned. “Let me know if y’need me t’pose a certain way,” he winked.

She shook her head and Niall skated up to the side. “Hey Sweetheart,” he said.

“Hi, baby, I missed you,” Harry answered with a grin. Niall shook his head flipping his friend off which made her giggle. Niall remained focused on her.

“Your Uncle said you might need help walking out here.”

“Oh, do we have a skating rookie on our hands?” Harry asked. Her cheeks felt hot under the assumption. Even though it was accurate.

“I suck at skating,” she shrugged. There wasn’t any use playing it off—they would know in a matter of seconds. “I get too nervous and lose my balance,” she admitted.

They both tilted their heads at her. She knew that vulnerability wasn’t something seen on the ice. It seemed almost trivial to admit, but she knew it clearly threw them for a loop. “I can walk you out,” Harry offered with that sinfully delicious smile.

“Coach said he was going to rebreak all of your fingers if you touch her."

“Oh, please let me walk you out,” Harry practically bounced with excitement.

She worried her eyes were going to remain in the back of her head from rolling them so much, but she supposed that would come with the territory with working for a group of boys. “Thank you, Niall. I should be okay. Just don’t let anyone laugh at me too much if I fall on my butt.”

“We don’t want you t’fall on such a pretty asset, Rookie. Are y’sure I can’t help?”

She ignored Harry, keeping her eyes on Niall. “No one will laugh,” he assured her, a smile toying at his lips as he slipped his helmet back on. “I offered, but she’s stubborn like you, Coach!”

The laughter that ensued was a good distraction for her to make her move. She unlocked the rink door and stepped onto the ice following behind Niall. Each step was carefully taken, knowing the traction of her winter boots were better than any other pair of shoes she owned but would never compare to the blade of skate.

Three little steps was about as far as she could go it seemed. Right as her footing was about to be lost on her and send her to the hard ice, a hand caught her elbow and kept her upright. “Rookie, love,” he tisked. “I told you I could help.”

She looked at him briefly knowing that his good looks got him any girl he wanted. She heard the rumors of the string of girls he had (perhaps one for every city he visited) and she knew of every bad thing that Kael had to say about him. But the kindness of him to catch her was sweet. Even she couldn’t deny that. Kael merely laughed each time she fell, it wasn’t mean spirited per se, but it was almost like he was glad she couldn’t skate. A way to be better than her.

God, she wished she had taken the hint a lot sooner.

Harry’s skates weren’t even tied yet. “Jus’ wait,” he said and knelt to lace them up. She had to imagine he rushed to get out here just knowing she wouldn’t make it across the ice.

Once tied, Harry held her elbow again and skated so effortlessly beside her barely moving as he glided alongside her. No one paid attention to her slow steps, and she could feel Harry’s grip firm but not hard on her arm. Almost sensing when she was going to misstep before she did. It made her heart skip a beat.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She wasn’t going to fall for another hockey player ever.

“M’teaching m’niece t’skate. I can teach you,” he shrugged. It wasn’t arrogant the way he said it. She was sure anyone else that knew she was in their mid-twenties (especially someone with a famous hockey player for an ex-boyfriend of eight years, and famous major league hockey coach for an uncle) would expect her to be able to skate. Instead, one of the top players in the league was at her elbow barely acknowledging that it was weird. Perhaps the vulnerability she mentioned to him and Niall really meant something to him. Or maybe she was just reading into it—which she definitely shouldn’t have been reading into it.

“It’s a real shame you won’t have that hand to play with after all, Harry,” Uncle Charlie shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Charlie, I can handle a group of boys,” she rolled her eyes again, earning a bout of laughter from the group. But she knew that Uncle Charlie was worried about Harry specifically. He was a lot like Kael. In another life, Harry would have been a weakness for her. But not anymore. She was done with hockey guys.

“M’jus’ making sure she doesn’t fall. Sad y’couldn’t teach her t’skate. Some uncle you are,” he shrugged casually.

The group laughed again, and she smirked. Charlie ignored the childish behavior of his players but rubbed his middle finger on his nose like he had an itch aimed for Harry “They’re all yours, Sweetheart. Just tell them where you want them. They’ve all been instructed to listen carefully unless they want to do suicides tomorrow at practice, so be honest if they don’t listen. Or lie if you see fit,” Uncle Charlie remarked making everyone groan. “Harry, go get your gear she needs individual pictures too.”

His eyes flickered to Niall for several seconds. Right as he released her arm, Niall now stood beside her and waited for direction. He didn’t hold her elbow like Harry did, but it was clear there was an unspoken message they shared telepathically. That little flutter in her chest made it’s appearance once more solely because Harry was kind to her about her inability to skate.

No, she wasn’t going to fall for it.

She wasn’t going to fall for the hot left wing of her uncle’s team just because he offered to teach her to skate and didn’t make fun of her because she couldn’t.

Nope. She wasn’t.

Not even a little.

Right?

*

The boys were decidedly sweet. Despite the fact it was like trying to wrangle a group of twenty toddlers into one spot. They sat nicely for their headshots individually, but once she tried to get them into various poses and group shots with their respective lines it proved a little more difficult. (Don’t even get her started on how the whole team shot went).

Harry stood beside her while she took pictures of everyone but him. His presence was comforting in a way she didn’t want to admit so readily. It had been less than an hour since she spoke to him. When he returned with all his gear in place, he held a small rug that the coaches often used to stand at center ice and call drills. He laid it before her feet, and she didn’t have to worry as much about falling. Niall was her test subject in front of the goal. When she wanted to get another angle, Harry scooped up the little mat and held her elbow and let her guide while he slid alongside her at a pace that was much too slow for a professional hockey player. But Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I see?” He asked while the others skated around, messing around at the other end of the rink. She was now at the bench where she was safe from slipping. Harry leaned over the rail, dropping his gloves onto the wooden seat beside her. She offered her camera to him. Carefully he cradled it, like he knew it really was precious to her. Silently, he looked at the little screen. A smile grew on his face as he admired how his pictures came out. “These are awesome, Rookie.”

“Thank you,” did her cheeks feel warmer from the compliment? She smiled softly as he looked through several photos of himself. Harry Styles was lucky he didn’t have a bad side. Not that she would tell him that.

“How come y’didn’t do this for Crowe’s team?” He asked clicking through photos of his teammates.

She blinked, the smile melting from her face. “You know about me and Kael?”

“Well, yeah. S’the whole hands-off talk Coach gave us. Said you’re done with hockey players,” Harry shrugged one shoulder, his gaze focused on the lines and group shots on the screen of her camera. “Fortunately for me, I don’t consider your ex a real hockey player,” he smiled at the screen. “But I haven’t told Coach ‘bout that loophole jus’ yet.”

She snorted and shook her head. The flirty comment was cute. She could admit that. Plus, a dig at her shitty ex made her feel a little lighter. But she wasn’t going to fall for Harry’s easy-going charisma.

If she repeated it to herself enough, it would stick.

“I will not be dating real and-or imaginary hockey players,” she told him.

“At least give me a chance t’change your mind, Rookie,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” she shook her head politely. He frowned. She laughed softly. “You genuinely look down by my answer.”

“Hell yeah,” he scowled. “Y’take pretty pictures and y’wrangled this ragtag group,” he sighed almost dreamily. “And you’re absolutely beautiful t’boot.”

That made her smile, at least. He was an expert flirter. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that.”

“Enough t’let me take you on a date?”

“No.”

“Ugh.”

She laughed again. “Thank you for helping me around the ice,” she said graciously. “I’ll tell Uncle Charlie you were a perfect gentleman after he left.”

“Rookie, love, you’ll ruin m’reputation,” he called after her as she made her way around the rink toward the exit.

*

Her apartment was not in the nice part of town. To be fair, it was only just over the border from the nicer side. From her place she could see the bar she would be working at on the days she wouldn’t be at the rink. She hadn’t told Uncle Charlie about it because she knew he would be pissed if he saw where she lived. But it was the right price and honestly, the other tenants weren’t bad.

She suspected one of her neighbors on the first floor was... an entrepreneur... for his... small business. Michael was very wary of her at first, but she was lucky because he wore a hockey jersey the day, she met him, Callie’s number and name on the front and back. She hadn’t gone to the rink yet because she was getting a lot of her things and affairs settled. That evening she moved in, she got him tickets to a home game through her uncle (along with a dozen cookies to welcome herself to the building). To his credit, Michael looked weary that the tickets were fake, but the cookies were good. They weren’t special seats or anything, but they weren’t bad seats either. He knocked on her door the day after the game and it was clear she wasn’t going to have any issues with her neighbor. “That was cool. If you need anything, I got you,” he assured her with a grin. “That car you got, I’ll keep an eye on it for you when you’re not around... you’re too sweet to be living here.”

She smiled. “Thanks Michael.”

On the second floor lived an older couple. They kept to themselves, but she was sure to give them a dozen cookies as well and offered to shovel out their cars when it snowed. But once Michael saw her out there shoveling, he joined her as well. She brought a hockey stick autographed by the whole team for their grandson. She couldn’t wait to hear how he enjoyed that Christmas gift.

Her neighbor on the third floor just down the hall was Marcellus. He went by Marc and told her that he had a boyfriend and if she had an issue with that, it was too fucking bad. The previous tenant must have been a piece of work. She laughed at him, handed off her dozen cookies and shrugged. “If he breaks your heart, I have a team of hockey boys who can take him on,” she giggled.

So, Marc loved her too.

She wouldn’t be jogging around the neighborhood any time soon, but it was nice she wouldn’t have to worry about her car being stolen (although good luck to anyone who tried to get that piece of crap to start without a prayer), or getting robbed on her way into the building.

Inside her little studio apartment was a small kitchen. There was enough space for a small loveseat, a bed, and TV. She had a coffee table and a counter to sit at for breakfast. The bathroom was surprisingly spacious and modern for a rundown studio apartment building.

After a full day at the rink, she was chilly. A shower was just what she needed before she ventured into the cold again. Letting the hot water soothe her cold neck and back was so nice. While her hair air-dried, she transferred and then sifted through her pictures on her laptop. The edits she made were small. The lighting and shadows only needed to be adjusted a little. She loved the natural look of the of the players in their element.

She forwarded the photos to Charlie for approval, and he would send them to the higher ups for printing.

They look stunning, Sweetheart. Incredible job.

Grinning she looked over the photos she took of Harry again. He was by far the best-looking guy on the team (not that the others weren’t good-looking but alas). Even in the photos where you couldn’t see his pretty face, there was a presence that made him look more attractive. It was obvious he was a good player. His talent was evident in the photos, and she was proud of herself for being able to capture it.

There was a knock on her door. She padded quietly across the room, peeked through the peephole to see Marc, before she opened it. “Hi,” she smiled.

“You have to teach me hockey,” he said. “This man is obsessed, and I don’t even know what you call the ball.”

“Puck.”

“Exactly.” She laughed. He glanced around her apartment. “Your talents are wasted on this run-down place—holy hottie, who’s that?”

Her computer screen remained on Harry’s smiling individual photo. Dimples on full display and looking intense but happy. “That’s Harry Styles.”

“I think I’ll like hockey after all.”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Listen, I have a shift I have to get to, but there’s a game on tomorrow afternoon, come over and we’ll watch it, and I’ll teach you,” she offered.

“Bring flashcards of the players. It’ll make me more interested.”

She tied the apron around her waist as he sifted through the photos. “God damn, is this what all hockey players look like?” He asked.

“Bye Marc,” she pulled his arm and pushed him toward her door. “See you tomorrow.”

*

The Locker Room was a local restaurant owned by Louis Tomlinson. It was a hot spot for the players to go to on off days and after a win (they refrained from going after a loss unless absolutely necessary). The fans that went were not allowed to be aggressive about the players, but after a while, they got used to seeing the players so often, it became a nice place to be themselves.

Asher and Lang were playing darts while Niall and Callie focused on a game of pool. Harry sat back sipping his beer analyzing his contacts looking for the hookup he wanted for the evening. They had curfew at midnight since there was a game tomorrow evening which left him with ample time to peruse his list, meet up with the girl, and get home by midnight before he turned into a pumpkin.

“Who’s the lucky lady tonight?” Louis asked clapping a hand on Harry’s back.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he chuckled.

“Well, when the new waitress comes over, you are not to make her uncomfortable. I already warned her.”

“I would never,” he rolled his eyes, still scanning the names.

“Uh-huh,” Louis nodded. “Of course. Tell your teammates too. She’s off limits.”

“What’s up with every new girl being off limits in our life?” Callie asked.

“Coach won’t let us date his niece and you won’t let us date the new girl,” Niall explained to Louis for clarification.

“Fortunately, it’s the same person, so you don’t have to lose out on two girls.”

Harry pulled away from his screen to admire the pretty girl he met at the rink earlier in the day. His grin grew. “Oh, Rookie, it’s you,” he cooed.

“Oh Jesus,” Louis sighed. “Watch out for that one, love,” he patted her on the back.

“So, I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Is she ours?” Asher asked excitedly.

“As long as you don’t torture her,” Louis shrugged.

“We would never!”

“Eleanor refuses to set foot back here because of you all.”

“Hire meaner waitstaff.”

“Best of luck, love,” Louis shook his head.

“What can I get you guys?” She asked sweetly.

“Uncle Charlie doesn’t pay you enough that you have to slum it here?” Lang asked.

“I heard that!” Louis shouted.

Harry was...quite taken. From the moment he laid eyes on her. The concentration on her face as she took pictures, the way her hair was pinned up, how bundled she was. Her smile was sexy. The quips that spilt from her mouth perhaps even sexier. Harry was certain she was a dream because good things at the rink consisted of goals, interviews, and the pizza from the snack bar. Not a pretty girl with an expensive camera and his assistant coach as her uncle.

Now her hair was still pinned back, an apron tied around her waist, and the black and silver uniform as homage to his own. Harry wanted her draped in the number eleven and his name on her back ASAP.

It was cute she couldn’t skate. Cute how passionate she was on day one taking pictures. She wasn’t flustered by their rowdiness, or their annoying nature. Harry knew that she was used to hockey boys—had to be if her ex was one of the top forwards in the league (although Harry didn’t recognize that too often). He liked how she didn’t take shit from them but was still kind. She was funny, creative, and lovely.

And he only saw her in action for a short time.

But it was enough to make him put his phone away and not think about hooking up with someone tonight. His focus would be on her waiting on the team and (hopefully) getting to know her more so he could rationalize falling for someone so out of his league and someone so off limits.

“Hi Rookie, love,” Harry smiled as she approached his table. She took orders from the other four hanging around.

“Hi Harry,” she answered.

“M’happy to see you again.”

She nodded. “It’s only been a few hours, Harry.”

“S’too long t’go without seeing your pretty face,” he assured her.

She rolled her eyes, but Harry noticed how her cheeks flushed with color. “What do you want to drink?” She asked instead.

“Are you on the menu?”

“Does that work on other girls?”

“Yes.”

“It’s probably because of the hockey thing you have going on. I promise it wouldn’t work if you weren’t a professional,” she shrugged.

“Good thing m’very professional,” he continued, his voice flirty.

“I’m putting down whatever the other guys said,” she shook her head and headed off to get the drinks.

“Harry, don’t bother her. Coach said she’s off-limits,” Niall reminded him while Callie took his shot.

“Yeah, she doesn’t strike me as one-night-stand material,” Asher murmured focusing on his dart going directly into the board.

“Mmm,” Harry sighed. In the brief interaction he had with her, he kind of figured that too. In fact, given she had been with Crowe for nearly a decade, he imagined she didn’t have too much experience dating other than her ex. Not that he would force her—or any woman. Like he said they all knew what they signed up for. Harry wasn’t great at the whole relationship thing. He was constantly traveling with the team. Practice most days, games most nights. Relationships were often one-sided and tiresome. It wasn’t fair to expect someone to wait for five months of the year to have a relationship.

One-night stands were better for him.

But he could at least ask her if she was willing to try him out. God, knew he wanted to try her out the second he looked at her.

“Your drinks,” she announced setting them on Harry’s table. He eyed her as she set the drinks down from the little tray in her arm. “Do you guys want food?” She asked.

“Are you on the menu now?”

“Jesus Christ,” Lang shook his head.

“You’re embarrassing us, Styles,” Callie sighed.

“Chicken wings, you said?” She asked scribbling on the pad of paper in her hand. “Great choice. Do you want anything else?” Harry smiled, opened his mouth to speak but she turned immediately. “Not you,” she said over her shoulder and sauntered over to the pool table. Lang and Asher chuckled to themselves at Harry’s strike out.

“You’re our hero, Sweetheart,” Asher sighed dreamily.

*

When Harry was on the ice there were zero thoughts of anything but slicing up the ice with the blade of his skate. He thought about the opponent across from him. The puck sliding across the ice and into the net. Protecting Niall in goal if anyone dared to lay a hand on him.

But now when they had timeouts, or when he was waiting for the puck to come up to him, he saw the pretty girl with her camera lens pressed to the glass, or in the cut out for the press. Her little badge draped around her neck looked so cute. Everything about her was cute and dainty.

Crowe was a fucking idiot to let her go.

Which made him wonder why he chose to break up with someone so pretty and witty. Creative as well.

Fuck. Coach was going to kill him.

But she really stood her ground. In the month that she had been part of the team, she seemed damn near impervious to Harry’s flirting. Harry worked hard to make her blush (which he could see was easy) but it took a lot to make her speechless. It was obvious Crowe didn’t treat her well. It seemed like Harry’s attention to her was the only time she had been shown affection. That alone pissed him off and made him hate him more. It was like she had never been told how pretty she was. Even when Harry wasn’t actively flirting with her, when he complimented her hair or how her pictures came out, she seemed completely off-guard.

What a fucking dick.

Harry once more wondered why they broke up. He still hadn’t figured it out. There was no way she wasn’t the perfect girlfriend. Especially for a hockey player. For all the reasons Harry didn’t date, she knew precisely what she was getting into and did it anyway. But she doted on his teammates as if she was dating all of them (there was no other way to describe it.) She always had extra tape for sticks. She walked with her cross body filled with supplies for hangovers, minor injuries, and the like. When she waited on them at Louis’ place, she knew their orders and had them ready almost like clockwork for when they arrived.

“Styles!” Coach Wheeler called. “If you’re not going to practice, you can sit out!” He shouted.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to rid his mind of the team’s photographer. The coach’s niece. His pretty waitress.

The star of all his dreams as of late.

*

“Sweetheart, where do you want us?!” Lang called.

She was on the bench, waiting to take some gameday photos. Today she was wearing skates, which made Harry nervous. He knew if she went down, she would protect her precious camera and he didn’t blame her, but it he hated the thought of her getting hurt. “Just by the—” She sighed, closing her eyes mid-sentence and she put her phone to her ear. “Stop fucking calling,” she snapped and then put her phone in her pocket again. “By the goal,” she cleared her throat.

The team stared at her. “Do you have a stalker, babe?” Asher asked.

“No,” she snorted and looked at her camera. She took a test shot of the empty net to make sure everything was set. She stepped tentatively onto the ice, more graceful than the last time she did. But Harry glided over to her quickly. He didn’t touch her, but he was more than ready to catch her. She ignored his presence, not in a mean way at all. Not an ounce of her was mean. Which is why it was so surprising she had that much malice in her voice on the phone.

“Everything okay, Sweetheart?” Charlie asked.

“Yup,” she popped the ‘puh’ sound.

She slid forward very carefully. “S’kind of shooting yourself in the foot here, Rookie. Figure skates have a better blade for beginners. S’harder t’skate on hockey skates for what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I was always told a hockey blade was thicker, so it was better.”

Harry shrugged. “S’not really that big of a deal in m’opinion. Figure skates have a longer blade, better for y’balance. Charlie set y’up with those?” She shook her head.

“No,” her voice was quiet.

“You bought hockey skates on your own?”

“Can you go stand with your team?” She asked dodging his question. He frowned.

“Yeah, sorry, Rookie, love,” he skated off but whistled at his younger teammate, Garrett, the third string forward for his position. Harry tilted his head in her direction and Garrett went over to her, standing way too far away in case she did fall.

“Who got her the skates?” He mumbled to Charlie. He shrugged.

“Not sure. Probably Kael. I would imagine he got a deal from his sponsors.”

God Harry hated him.

*

Mila was someone he saw on a semi-regular basis. Which meant she knew the drill. After their win, they would do their thing. Harry would stay until she fell asleep—because he wasn’t an asshole; and he wasn’t too proud to admit that he liked cuddling. Even if it was only for a little while—and he would send a text the next day to make sure she felt okay. There was no breakfast, no awkward small talk. Just sex. There was no setup to get feelings hurt or hearts broken. Harry was too busy for a girlfriend, and he would make for a shitty boyfriend.

It was cold when he left her place, and he blew into his hands for warmth when he as he headed to his car. There was a text on his phone from an unknown number.

Thought you would want to see the picture that’s on the front page of the sports section for tomorrow :) There was an impressive picture of Harry’s game winning goal. It wasn’t time sensitive but it was the one that broke the tie. The rest of the team held off the offensive line for the remaining ten minutes of the game.

Thanks, Rookie. I’m going to send it to Mum. She’ll print it for the fridge. How’d you get my number?

Kian gave it to me. Is that alright?

Who?

Callie 🙄 You should really learn your friends’ names. Is it okay I have your number?

Of course it’s alright. Just surprised YOU asked for it. Didn’t know you would want to talk to me so bad. You could have asked me yourself.

Sorry, I think have the wrong number.

He chuckled to himself while his car warmed up. The seat heater was heaven on his stiff muscles. Harry liked the cold—he had to being a hockey player. But it was her funny wit that warmed him from the inside out. Are you all still at Louis’?

Yes. Niall and Noah are about to break the air hockey machine.

Who?

🙄 Asher. Sorry. Jesus.

I’ll be right there, Rookie.

*

The next time the team won, Harry looked at the message from Layla asking if he wanted to come over to celebrate. He didn’t really want to. The guys were headed home because they had an early flight and there was no celebrating. Which meant that the pretty girl he wanted to celebrate with wasn’t going to be out and about either. She wouldn’t be doting on his drunk teammates. Wouldn’t be stopping their stupid fights about who’s turn it was to play her in darts. She wouldn’t be making sure they all made it home safely in the Ubers she ordered.

But Harry couldn’t just hang out with her either. There was no reason. She was basically his teammate and he couldn’t figure why she was so guarded. At least not beyond whatever it was she was dealing with Crowe.

“Is he still calling?” Niall asked looking at her phone the bench while she looked at her camera. Her hair always fell so perfectly as she watched the screen.

“Who?” Lang asked.

She sighed. “It’s just Kael.”

“Why?” Callie asked.

She shrugged. “I would have to answer to find out. Which is the last thing I want to do. I need a new phone number; I just haven’t gotten around to it. My schedule conflicts with most regular business hours so I could go to the store.”

“Charlie, you can’t spare her to give her a day off?” Asher asked.

Her uncle rolled his eyes, flipped him off, and continued practicing with the second and third stringers.

Harry sat beside her and peeked over her shoulder at her photos. “Do y’have any non-hockey photos?” She nodded and picked up her phone that was still showing Crowe blowing up her phone with calls and texts. “Why don’t y’block him, Rookie?” She swiped his notification away and she opened the web browser. It was currently on a recipe for carrot cake cupcakes. “Those look good,” he smiled.

She smirked. “It’s Ray’s birthday next week. Carrot cake is his favorite. Figured I’d make you all cupcakes.”

Harry thought she was too sweet for him. Someone with a lineup of women didn’t deserve her sweetness. Someone who was meeting Arya at her place after practice because he could didn’t get a girl like her. Him meeting Nyla after tomorrow’s away game three states away didn’t get someone like the pretty photographer.

Kael’s name kept popping up. “Y’probably never had t’block anybody before,” Harry said quietly. “D’you know how?” He hoped he didn’t sound condescending. But he had the unfortunate pleasure of blocking someone every now and again.

“I know how,” she laughed softly. “It’s just... with Kael, it’s likely to be a thing, you know?” She shrugged. “It’s easier to ignore him.”

“It probably gives him hope,” Harry frowned.

She held out her phone to him and shrugged. “That’s not my problem. I’ll see him in a couple weeks when we’re up North,” she reminded him. “Hopefully by then he’ll get the message; or I’ll have to talk to him in person.”

Harry took her phone and admired the portfolio of photos she displayed for him. The website was all black making her images pop. She was so talented. There were babies and weddings. There were family portraits and just general landscape shots. All of differing but equal beauty and perfection. Natural. Lovely.

Harry swiped away Kael’s name again and clicked on the menu item of the about section.

Two side by side pictures of the pretty girl next to him were on the screen. One with the camera in front of her eye, the other a sweet smile on her face camera in front of her like a prop. Behind the Lens... Thank you for browsing. If you like what you see, I’d be happy to quote you for any need. I have experience in just about any area of photographing. Thank you for letting me part of you day!

Too sweet for someone who was going to never be able to settle down because of his job. No matter how much he wished she could be part of his day.

Kael’s stupid name popped up again. Without another rational thought, Harry answered the call, pressed the phone to his ear, and skated off knowing she couldn’t go after him.

“Finally, baby,” Kael groaned.

“STYLES HOW DARE YOU!” She screamed.

“Crowe, nice t’hear from you.”

“Who the fuck is this?” He growled.

“HARRY!” She was on the ice in her ever-present boots. They weren’t great for walking on ice. She slipped immediately but Lang was right nearby to help her up. Harry was going to feel guilty about that for ages.

“None of your business,” he shook his head. “She doesn’t want y’calling anymore.”

“What the fuck? Put her on the phone!”

“No,” Harry said defiantly. “She doesn’t want t’talk t’you. Ever. Stop calling y’piece of shit.”

Lang looked at Harry wildly as he glided with the pretty girl clutching to his arm. She smacked Harry multiple times on the arm and chest making the coaches laugh. “Give me the phone!” She snapped.

“Give her the phone!” He repeated. “Listen to her!”

“No, y’don’t deserve her,” Harry stepped out of her reach where she lost her balance as she lunged for him. She fell again catching her hands. Thank God she didn’t have her camera. Lang helped her to her feet again and Harry felt a wave of guilt wash over him again. “Y’didn’t appreciate her, her talent, or anything. Y’didn’t get her the right skates, and I don’t know what y’did t’piss her off so bad, but y’not getting her back,” Harry said it so casually. But every word was meant for her.

“Is that you, Styles?” Crowe snarled.

“Bye Crowe, see you in a month!” He said cheerily handing the phone off to her.

She nearly fell again despite holding onto Lang. “What the hell, Harry!”

“I got rid of him,” he shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

Her face was beat red with embarrassment. Her hands had to be cold from the fall. But she still looked adorable as always. Even with a sour expression, she was sweet. Pretty beyond belief. Wide eyes, soft skin, even her nose was cute. She glared at him and spun on her heel. “Get me away from him,” she snapped.

Harry sighed, feeling bummed he pissed her off too much. Lang shook his head at Harry as he helped her back to the bench. She packed up her things and left.

But he couldn’t help but notice that her phone had stopped ringing.

*

She was still mad at him a week later. If she ignored his flirting before, this was an entire new level. She hardly acknowledged his presence. He missed her. In a weird way. He enjoyed bugging her, but perhaps it went to far. It was an invasion of her personal life that he wasn’t privy to, and he didn’t really have any right to deal with her ex-boyfriend.

That didn’t mean anything he said wasn’t anything but the truth.

“Hey Rookie,” he said as she entered the room to get their drink orders for the evening.

“Hi everybody,” she grinned at everyone in turn and glared at Harry.

“Boy you pissed her off,” Niall chuckled.

He shrugged. “Worth it,” because it was. He hated Kael before, he hoped he got the clue.

“You know she had to talk to him, right?” Callie asked. Harry’s head snapped up from his phone screen looking at his contacts once more. Harry wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it exactly but his evenings with the women in his phone were leaving him less and less fulfilled. He wasn’t looking for any grand pronouncements of love. That wasn’t his thing. But the idea of spending the evening with someone didn’t give him the same excitement as it used to.

It was probably the day he met her. But it was sinking in more over the week she had barely spoken to him. “What do y’mean?” He frowned.

“Crowe? She had to talk to him after that stunt you pulled.”

Harry glowered at the table. “Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t stop blowing up her phone and he was threatening to come to her if she didn’t just talk to him. Why do you think she didn’t come with us on the plane the next day?”

Harry felt like a jerk. “Oh.”

“She hates you,” Asher reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “She could have told one of us,” he mumbled. Harry would have sat outside her apartment waiting for him.

“I don’t know if you noticed Harry, but she’s pretty private,” Niall sighed leaning on his pool stick. “I know you meant well, but it kind of fucked up her day.”

Harry pouted. He met her gaze as she brought their drinks out.

And if she spilled Harry’s on him, well, he supposed he deserved that.

*

Harry was a great hockey player, a great friend. A great brother and son. Not to toot his own horn but he thought he truly was the World’s Best Uncle like it said on the T-shirt Gemma had got him when she told him she was pregnant. He was still pretty humble all things considered; always looking to improve. Coach Wheeler was one of his favorite mentors (right after his mum) and he strived to do better by them.

He was bad at Chemistry in school. He wasn’t good at Sudoku. Most recently he felt like he was bad at having sex. The thing he had going with the women he knew didn’t seem to be working for him the way it used to. There was an awkwardness to the hookups when he left. He wasn’t mentally present in the moment.

Harry was pretty certain he would be a shitty boyfriend.

He needed her forgiveness, or the other remaining areas of his life were going to get worse too.

Most notably, he was shit in practice. He worried he was going to be demoted to second string.

Harry arrived early to practice, putting goals in the net two hours before everyone else arrived. He would have to pay to resurface the ice twenty minutes before practice officially started. But he hoped that she was going to show up early with her carrot cake cupcakes. He anticipated she would be just one short. Which Harry deserved on top of everything else too.

Fortunately, she did arrive early.

“Hey,” he waved.

She ignored him, set the cupcakes down on the bench and pulled out her camera. She fiddled with it, wiping the lens off with a cloth, and took some test shots of the ice.

“Rookie, love,” he sighed and skated over to the bench.

“Yes, Mr. Styles? Can I help you?”

“C’mon, Rookie, I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I was just trying to help.”

She rolled her eyes and ignored him. “You must get whatever you want all the time.”

He frowned. “No, I don’t actually,” although from her perspective he could see what she meant.

“Well, me either, so if I’m going to be miserable. So are you.”

He snorted, shook his head. He stepped off the ice and sat on the bench beside her. “I’m sorry, Bunny. Really. I hated that he was bothering you. I didn’t mean t’make it worse, honest. I would have done the same for m’sister or any one of the guys’ girls.”

“I am an adult Harry. I’m independent and I can handle my own shit. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I understand. M’sorry, really. I won’t do it again. But m’sick of y’being mad at me. S’been no fun this week without skating you around, grossly overtipping you jus’ so you’ll spend extra time with us,” he smiled shyly at her.

She sucked her lip into her mouth. For a moment she looked at her lap, obviously thinking something over. “How’d you know he bought me the wrong skates?” Her voice was quiet.

Harry blinked wondering how long she had that question locked and loaded. He shrugged. “I asked Charlie. He said he didn’t. So, I assumed it had to be him.”

She sighed and looked up. “He said figure skates would make me look like try-hard. Hockey skates would make me look more like I belonged on his arm,” she explained. “I didn’t know. I would have...” she shook her head. “It was eye-opening when you said that, and it hurt... and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry too.”

Harry sighed with relief. “You don’t have t’apologize,” he promised. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”

“Apology accepted.”

Harry grabbed her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Thanks Bunny.”

She wrinkled her nose at him in distaste. “I don’t like Bunny.”

“Oh...” his smile grew by the second. “Y’don’t Rookie, love?” He chuckled standing up and getting back on the ice. “Y’probably shouldn’t have told me that,” he winked and skated off.

“There’s no cupcake for you!” She called.

“That’s okay, Bunny!” He shouted back with a grin and sank a shot from half-ice.

Maybe Harry would be a shitty boyfriend, but he was going to be her best friend instead.

--

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[gurugirl]

Maybe Fate

MAIN MASTERLIST

This was first posted on Patreon one year ago! Figured I’d share it here with y’all on tumblr! 💕

Summary: The first time you meet Harry is under odd circumstances. But the second time you meet him it feels like fate. Well, if you believe in that sort of thing.

A/N: I have a couple of songs linked through to Spotify if you are interested in listening to set the scene - it's not necessary, though!

Word Count: 8,347

Warning: smut, cuteness, loud sex that can be heard by others

..

Your roommate K had some gall. You could hear her and whoever it was she brought home from the bar going at it for what seemed like an exaggerated amount of time. How was it possible that they could last that long? Why were they still having sex?

As annoying as it was to lose sleep (you had a test in the morning so it was a little more than just annoying) you could admit, it did sound like she was getting it good.

The man, who you’d not yet seen and probably would not be seeing, had a deep voice. And not just any deep voice. He sounded—hot. You couldn’t hear everything that that he said but he was vocal and he was definitely talking dirty to her.

Of course, there was also her bed wildly bouncing and frame smacking into the wall which told you he was plowing her in a way that made you a little jealous. You hadn’t been laid in a while. It was your senior year at university and you were busting your ass like the good student you were. You needed a good grade to get the internship you were up for that summer.

So sleep was vital. And here you were listening as K was getting the life fucked out of her. She sounded like she was crying but then you’d hear her long drawn-out moans of pleasure…

You stuffed your pillow over your head and groaned. If you failed your test the following day you’d be having a word with her about proper roommate etiquette. They could keep it down. There was no way they weren’t aware you could hear every little thing happening on her bed. You could even hear their bodies colliding every time he thrust into her.

Jesus. You needed sleep. But you also needed to get laid.

. . .

You didn’t fail your test, but you barely passed. But a passing grade was a passing grade you thought to yourself as you ordered your cappuccino. You were exhausted. Memories of what had kept you up had you rolling your eyes.

K was nice. You didn’t know her well, though. You were renting a small two-bedroom apartment and found it through an ad she’d posted. It would have been nice to have a place of your own but who could afford that? So, being stuck with K was more out of necessity than anything. You didn’t have much choice.

And up until the night before you’d really had no major complaints. She was six years older than you and had a regular job. She brought men home from time to time but nothing like her most recent Casanova that shook the whole apartment. And it was funny to you how she was always out partying and drinking while you stayed in on the weekends and studied til your eyes bulged out of your head. It should have been the opposite with you being the college kid and her the more mature adult.

Your plan had been to go home and crawl back into bed to catch up on the sleep you’d missed out on. But when you walked into your apartment you realized that K was still home. Which was odd since it was midday Thursday. Normally she was working.

You tossed your bag in your room and toed off your tennis shoes before making your way to the shared bathroom in the hallway and pushing open the door.

But instead of finding the bathroom unoccupied, you were met with a naked man who looked just as surprised as you were, “Oh shit!”

You turned quickly and put your hands over your eyes, “Sorry! Oh my god!”

The shock of seeing a man’s naked dick when you were not expecting it had you a bit dazed.

“Sorry, I’m covered now. Sorry,” you heard his voice and realized immediately who the offender was. The rowdy Casanova from the night before.

You kept your fingers over your eyes as you turned and slowly parted your digits to make sure it was safe.

He laughed and you verified he was indeed covered. But you did notice all the tattoos on his chest and arms, and his dark curls and soft green eyes… Yeah K was a lucky girl. Damn.

You didn’t stare long, though. But you could tell his body looked like he had a lot of stamina, and after everything you’d heard the night before you understood it all now.

“I’m Harry,” he held a hand out to you in greeting.

You smiled up at him and slid your palm into his, “Y/n. Uh… I’m guessing you’re K’s friend?”

He laughed again. Even his laugh was attractive with a big grin and nice teeth, “Yeah. I guess you could call me her friend.”

“Got it,” you nodded as you backed up out of the bathroom, “Well, I’ll come back when you’re done in here. Honestly didn’t mean to see…” you waved your hand around, “any of that.”

. . .

You didn’t see Harry again after that. You did hear him again the following night, though. But this time you had a picture in your head of the man who was obliterating K with that big thing between his legs and his nicely built body with broad shoulders and thick, muscled thighs.

It was no wonder she was crying out in ecstasy. You wondered if she’d need to repaint the wall where the frame was knocking into the plaster repeatedly. Wondered if other neighbors could hear (surely they could). Wondered what position he was putting her in and how he might look doing it.

Then you heard a loud pop and K’s choked gasp and then another three or four pops. He was spanking her.

You rolled your eyes so hard you felt the force of your sockets nearly separate from your eyeballs. It wasn’t fair. God, what you wouldn’t give to have a man that looked like that fucking you so hard into your mattress you were a blubbering mess and then to have him spank you with those big hands…

You could almost see the dimpled smirk on his face as he landed his palms over her bum. You could hear his voice but it was difficult to make out the words he was saying over the racket of the squeaky bed and K’s high-pitched moans.

And once again, the amount of stamina he had to last as long as he did was quite amazing to you. Most of the guys you’d slept with couldn’t keep going like that or they’d come too fast.

But of course, the longer they lasted, the less sleep you were awarded.

. . .

Graduating from university felt different than you imagined it would. Nothing much really changed. You envisioned getting that internship and starting a new life and making new friends with people who had the same interests as you.

But instead, you found yourself not getting picked for the internship even though you were more than qualified, and moving back in with your parents once your lease with K was up.

Honestly, it felt a lot like high school again, except this time you needed to get a job. And as it turned out having your engineering degree meant zilch when you had no experience to speak of. So you were forced to find something that had nothing to do with the framed certificate hung on the wall in your childhood bedroom.

So that’s why you needed a night out or something. Something to break up the monotony of what this very disappointing after-graduation life looked like so far.

“I know it might sound really lame, but I am going bowling with some friends. On Fridays, they have $10 pitchers of beer and pizza. Cheap fun.” Your cousin, Lee, told you over the phone when you called to find out what her plans were.

But even if you were terrible at bowling, beer and pizza with adults your age sounded really fun. You needed to get out of your parent's house and do anything else. Bowling sounded more appealing than listening to your dad talk about his coworkers and what time he was gonna light up the grill and make hamburgers (then hear him complain about how you don’t eat meat).

Rocket Soul Bowl was one of those dirty, old bowling alleys. The parking lot was filled with potholes and had weeds growing up through the cracks and the inside smelled of stale cigarette smoke, had dim lighting, with old school rock and R&B playing. It was perfect.

Well. Better than watching your parents eat hamburgers while you stuck with chips and potato salad.

You found Lee with one of her friends after you got your used (and hopefully sanitized) bowling shoes and she already had a pitcher of beer on the table with plastic cups.

“Y/n!” She jumped up and hugged you, “This is Chris,” she gestured toward the guy who stood up to reach his hand out for you to shake. “We’re waiting on Harry. And then we’ll start bowling and order pizza.”

You smiled at Lee and Chris and then poured beer into your cup as you sat down on the hard, smooth plastic bench at the table. It wasn’t often you heard the name Harry. Immediately your mind went to the tall curly-headed man with tattoos. Part of you thought how funny it would be if that was the Harry who was meeting up with your cousin at the bowling alley. In all the world, to have it be the same Harry seemed impossible.

But when a Bill Withers song began playing over the speakers and Chris stood up to greet someone who approached you from behind, “Hey man! Good to see you!” It was like something inside of you just knew. Before you even heard his voice or looked at his green eyes.

Placing your plastic cup down you stood up and turned to see him. Harry hugged Lee but the moment they parted from the hug he saw you and the smile on his face changed to a flirty grin. “Y/n, what a surprise. Are you the cousin?” You noted he had a black helmet tucked under his arm.

You nodded and looked at Lee and back at Harry, “Yeah. I’m Lee’s cousin. You guys know each other?”

Lee laughed, “For years. Wait? You know Harry?”

Before you could speak Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you into his side, draping his arm over your shoulder, “We do,” he looked down at you, “Intimately.”

Chris laughed and you shook your head, pushing yourself out from under his arm, “We know each other, but not really. Definitely not intimately. He’s joking,” you laughed.

Harry’s demeanor did not falter, “But we do, Y/n. You’ve seen my cock and balls and bush. I’d say that’s intimate.”

You looked at Lee, still shaking your head, “No, that was an accident–“

“She’s playing shy. Knows very well some other very intimate details about me as well,” he kept his eyes on you, the edge of his mouth playing upward in a smirk, “Isn’t that right?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed as you squinted at him, “You’re crazy.”

Harry pulled you back into his side and put his arm over your shoulder, “I am a little.”

When Lee put everyone’s name in the computer and the match started it was your turn first. You picked a bowling ball you liked the color of and stood along the lines on the slick floors and attempted to launch the ball down the center of the lane but once it got toward the end the ball suddenly veered to the left and only knocked down two pins.

You repeated your move, trying to make the ball stay toward the center but it rolled in nearly the same path as before, veering to the left at the end, this time hitting nothing before it rolled into the gutter and then it was Harry’s turn.

“Better luck next time, Cherry,” he eyed your shirt as he spoke and picked up his ball.

You were wearing a black t-shirt with cherries on the front with the words Have a cherry good time! You rolled your eyes as you sat down and sipped your beer. But inside you were feeling something other than annoyed. In fact, you could say you were quite pleased that Harry was there.

It turned out, as was no surprise, that you were a terrible bowler. So was Lee. Chris was good enough to hold his own, but what was surprising was how good Harry was. He claimed he rarely bowled, that it was just luck. But you weren’t sure about all that.

The four of you sat on the plastic chairs after your first set and ate pizza (you opted for cheese) with a fresh pitcher of beer, “I’m just good at most things I do. I have no idea why,” Harry laughed before taking a huge bite of his slice of pizza.

“It’s true. This guy just learns how to do something and immediately he’s good at it. In our sophomore year at university, I was on the track team and one day I was at practice and Harry just pops in because he wants to chat about something so I tell him I’ve got to run laps so he just goes with me. The whole team was out there practicing in our athletic gear, like just dragging and sweating and Harry’s in jeans and a t-shirt and he’s running next to me not even breaking a sweat. He held a whole conversation while we were full-on running without skipping a beat.”

Chris took a drink from his cup, “Oh, and then there was the time that girl was showing us how to play chess and Harry sits and watches and listens to her explain the game so he plays a round with her and he fucking beats her. Like?”

The four of you laugh but the truth is you’re a bit impressed. You also happen to know another thing he’s really good at, but you stop yourself from allowing that thought to develop further.

The next game you play, you also suck. You barely hit any pins but you were having such a good time you could have cared less. Of course, Harry was just strike after strike. One time he went up with his plastic cup, launched his ball with one hand while he took a sip of beer and hit all but two pins. On his next try, he threw the ball, knocking down the two remaining. But that was him showing off. His cocky grin aimed at you as he sat down.

But the best part was that he sat next to you every time he went back to the seats when his turn was over. He kept his arm over your shoulder with his thigh flush against yours.

It made you hot having him so close. Every time you looked down at his thighs you were reminded of that day you saw him. You knew what he looked like with no jeans covering his bottom half. And you knew those muscles were definitely good for something.

It was hard not to think about Harry that way. He was hot and he was flirty.

And when your mind was wandering into the figurative gutters (unlike the literal ones your bowling ball kept wandering into) about what he’d be like with you in bed you didn’t realize it was your turn as you listened to his husky voice with his arm over your shoulder and his fingers brushing the skin just under your t-shirt sleeve.

“Cherry girl, your turn,” he spoke into your ear, breaking you from your reverie.

Another bad round. You were terrible. You laughed as you turned back to see Harry right behind you waiting his turn, “Come here,” he pulled at your hand, “Let’s do this together. Your form is all wrong.”

“But if I bowl on your turn I’m gonna fuck up your score.”

Harry’s dimples poked into his cheeks as he smiled, “Why would I care about my score? I’m not making money on this or anything. Even if we hit no pins I’m still gonna win anyway. Now get your cute ass over here so we can figure out what’s going on.”

You coughed a laugh and looked back at Lee who was watching the exchange with her brows raised. Yeah, she’d been giving you looks the entire time. You were sure she thought you and Harry had something going on. You could only hope.

Harry moved you up to the line as he stood behind you with his hands on your shoulders and then he pushed his chest to your back, helping you hold the ball correctly, positioning your hands with his, “Hold it like this, yeah?” His voice vibrated off the shell of your ear and down the back of your neck.

“There, good girl, Cherry. Just like that.” He let go of your hands and then you felt his grip on the back of your hips, “We’re gonna take one step forward, and then as you bring your other leg up you’ll swing this back for momentum before pushing it out and letting it roll toward the pins. Follow my lead.”

He nudged you forward before putting one hand on your right arm, “Now bring it back,” he let you swing the ball back before you felt him push the ball in your hands, giving you a bit more oomph in your swing. “And release. Like that…” he stayed against your back as you both watched the ball roll down the lane and rather than either going directly into the gutter or only hitting the last two pins on the left it was almost center and hit half the pins.

You jumped up and spun around, “Oh my god! It worked!” He laughed as you hugged him and you felt his arms squeeze around your middle before letting you go.

“Now try it again. See if you can do the same thing I just showed you.”

You took your bowling ball and lined up, holding the ball upward as Harry showed you, and then moved to swing and release. The ball didn’t have as much power as when he had helped you but it still hit three more pins.

You jumped up and down and turned back, high-fiving Harry as you both took your seats next to one another. It felt good to hit more pins. Something about it was exhilarating and maybe it was the way Harry looked proud that had you feeling that excitement even more so. It didn’t matter, though. You were having so much fun.

But all good things must come to an end. When the last round was nearly over and you were still losing while Harry was blowing everyone out of the water, you were feeling a bit of anxiety at that being it. Maybe you’d never see him again. He hadn’t asked for your number and even though he was obviously flirting with you there was no guarantee it actually meant much of anything.

When Lee took her turn and a Bruce Springsteen song came on you felt Harry’s fingers move to the back of your neck, “What are you doing after this?”

You smiled as you looked at him, his face was incredibly close to yours, “No plans. You?”

“What a coincidence that two young and attractive people have no plans on a Friday night after bowling. Wouldn’t you say?”

You laughed as his fingers trailed over the skin on your neck, “Yeah. Wild coincidence.”

“Actually it is. Maybe fate even,” he grinned teasingly, “I’m pretty sure this means we’re meant to hang out after this. Me and you, Cherry. You can’t say no to fate.”

The smile on your face couldn’t be removed if anyone tried. Because maybe Harry was right. Maybe it was fate. Maybe the coincidences in life that we think of as just coincidences are more than just random occurrences.

“That’s true. Who can say no to fate.”

You watched him lick his lips before Lee sat at the computer and tallied up the score. Obviously, Harry had won, to no one’s surprise.

Everyone stood up to say their goodbyes. Lee hugged you as she pulled you toward the exit with Harry and Chris following behind after you’d dropped off your rented shoes, “So, you and Harry?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I don’t know. He invited me to hang out after this. Maybe just a little fun,” you raised your brows and Lee laughed.

Harry had a black motorcycle, which explained the helmet he had with him, that had coincidentally (once again) been parked right next to your little shitter car.

“Where are you parked?” He said as he looked at you. Lee and Chris were already headed away toward their cars.

You pointed to the car right next to Harry’s motorcycle, “That’s me.”

Harry’s eyes took in your old beater and he leaned against the door, “Wanna take a ride with me? I can bring you back to your car later.”

You nodded, “Should I have a helmet?”

Harry raised up the black one that he had, “You’ll wear this. Okay?”

“But what about you?”

Harry inched in closer to you as he unhooked the buckle on the helmet, “I’ll be fine. My place is pretty close if you want to go there,” he raised his brows at you in question.

“Oh. Sure. Okay.” His place.

“Yeah? Did you want to go somewhere else instead?” He pulled the helmet over your head and adjusted the straps as you looked at his face.

“Your place is fine, Harry. I’d like that.”

When he’d fixed the helmet tight to your head he looked at you and lowered his gaze over your frame with a sexy grin, “Cute.”

You’d never ridden on a motorcycle before. Harry got on first and held your hand to help you on behind him, “Put your arms around me and hold on.” Turned out you really enjoyed the ride. The cool night air whipped around your body while the world around you flew by in a fuzzy blur as Harry safely took you to your destination.

You liked sitting behind him and holding onto his waist. The smell of his cologne or soap was fresh and his body was warm. You felt like a different person on the back of that bike with Harry. You didn’t know what to expect exactly but that was part of the thrill.

Harry turned into an apartment complex and parked at the front before helping you off the bike, “This is my place,” he gestured toward the second floor of the building and then helped you take the helmet off. Which you didn’t need him to do but found you loved his attention on you.

Following behind Harry you walked up the steps to the second level and he got to his door and stuck his key in. Before he opened his door he turned to look at you, “Kind of messy inside. Didn’t expect to have company.”

When you stepped in and he turned on the lights you looked around. It was about as messy as seemed appropriate. Nothing crazy. An empty glass of water next to a bowl of what looked like dry cereal on the coffee table, a blanket bunched up on the couch, trainers by the door with socks tucked inside, and some books on the floor next to a chair by the couch.

“Would you like anything to drink? Water? Beer? Uh… that’s really all I’ve got.”

“Nah. I’m good. Thank you, Harry.”

He sat the helmet down on the coffee table and plopped onto the couch, patting the space next to him, “Come here, Cherry.”

You laughed and sat next to him. Harry pushed his arm over your shoulders, his body angled toward you, “You know that day you walked in on me in the bathroom?”

You raised a brow at him, looking up to his face, “Yeah?”

“I kind of wanted to get your number. Is that bad of me since I was there with K?”

You breathed a laugh through your nose, “A little bad. But why? Sounded like you really liked K.”

Harry cackled loudly and his body shook the couch as he gripped your shoulder, “I liked her. But she was just using me for my body,” he teased, “But seriously. You were so cute and then I never saw you again. Thought about you a few times after.”

You grinned as you squinted at him, “You did not think about me after. Seemed you forgot anyone else existed while you were in her bed that night.”

He watched your lips as you spoke and he nodded, “I tend to just give it my all when I’m with someone, casual or not. If other people happen to hear then that’s fine. I’ve got no shame.”

“Clearly,” you grinned.

Harry scrunched his brows and looked over your face, “What do you like, Y/n? Does it bother you when other people can hear you having sex?”

You dropped your mouth open and blinked at him in surprise, “I… Well, first of all, I don’t think anyone has ever overheard me having sex. It tends to be relatively quiet I guess?”

“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever had sex that was quiet. Unless I’m wanking myself off but that doesn’t count. So you like quiet sex, then?” He smirked at you and tucked his lips into his mouth.

You shook your head, “I just mean I haven’t had loud sex is all,” you smiled, “I think it could be fun. Sounded like it was fun…”

“It was. But I like to have fun. Bet you’d like it too.”

You were caught in the moment with Harry like there was a force that made looking away from him impossible. You smiled shyly and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“How are you this cute?” He lifted his hand up to your cheek and you watched his pupils wind over your features. “Cherry girl with cherry lips,” he settled his gaze on your irises, “Pretty eyes.”

He lowered his hand to brush his knuckles down your neck softly and you closed your eyes at the light touch as you released your bottom lip from your teeth.

“Likes her neck touched,” his voice lowered as he spoke, moving in closer to you, “Probably likes it kissed too. Yeah?”

You opened your eyes to look at him and nodded. You did like your neck kissed, that was true.

His thumb pressed the side of your neck as he looked at the skin under his fingers, “Is it okay if I do? Right here?”

“Yeah,” you spoke in a breath before you felt his warm pink lips on your skin and the whole world melted away the moment you felt his tongue lave up to your jaw.

He pressed gentle kisses down your neck and then up to the lobe of your ear, “Tastes like cherries,” his breath warming your skin and making you breakout in goosebumps as he continued using his mouth and tongue all around your skin, his damp lips leaving traces of his saliva in each spot he kissed.

Your breath deepened as you moved your hand to the top of his thigh, “Oh my god,” you whispered, not even realizing you’d spoken.

Harry smiled as he lowered his lips to the collar of your shirt, dotting the skin just above the fabric with pecks, and then you felt his hand grip the back of your head before his mouth was pressed against yours and now you were in space kissing the man that coincidence (or fate) had brought back into your life.

You moaned into his mouth as you placed your hands on his broad back and he leaned over you, moving your back into the couch and licking the seam of your lips before you pressed your tongue against his.

Soft and smooth kisses slowly became eager and wanton. Harry’s mouth and his hands directed the whole thing. He pushed your legs apart and settled himself down between them, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

When he lowered his mouth to your neck again you let out a helpless gasp and he puffed a laugh against your skin but he didn’t stop. You felt his mouth at the curve of where your neck and shoulder met as his free hand grasped your side, his hips pinning you down. It made you dizzy.

You pulled at his shirt, the material bunching in your hands so you could feel his skin under your palm. He was warm and even his back was strong. You could feel him flexing under your hand as he sat up and slid his shirt off over his head.

You followed suit, pushing yourself to sit up and remove your cherry t-shirt. Harry’s eyes honed in on your bra-covered breasts and he dipped down, cupping both sides with his hands and licking over the thin fabric to wet the spot right over your nipple. You were pushed back down into the couch as Harry’s lips worked over your bra and his hands squeezed.

He moaned as he used his thumb to pull the fabric down slowly and then pressed his lips to the plump skin on your tits where the fabric was pulled down.

“Take it off,” you moaned as Harry’s green eyes settled on yours and he pushed his hands behind your back to unhook your bra. He dropped his mouth to your clavicle as he worked to get your bra undone and when he’d finally had success you felt the material being pulled out from under your back as he dragged the bra from you and draped it over the back of the couch.

He dove in right away. Lips parted, tongue out as he wetted your skin and kissed your nipples one by one.

You put your hands into his hair, thick brown curls between your fingers as he began to lower his lips down to your belly button.

You quickly released his hair and unbuttoned your pants, giving him permission to take them off if he chose.

And he definitely did. With his lips parted and shiny he looked at you as he tugged your jeans down your legs before squeezing at your soft thighs running his palms up to your hips over your panties, “Fucking beautiful.”

He kneaded your tits in his hands again and then softly coaxed his hands down your sides to the tops of your thighs, pressing his fingers into the meat as he took you in.

You saw a grin pull up on his face as he dragged his thumb to the edge of the fabric of your panties, “You like me don’t you?”

You laughed, “Well I think that should be obvious, I’m sitting here in my panties in your apartment.”

Harry looked back down to your panties and smiled, “That you are. I can see just how much you like me too,” he looked up at you as he ran his knuckle down the crotch of your panties and that’s when you realized what he meant. You were wet through your panties.

Out of instinct, you began to close your legs when Harry held your thighs apart and tutted at you, “But guess what? I like you too. Want to get to know you real good, cherry. Wanna know just what you like and how you like it.”

You wiggled your toes as your heart pounded with your legs spread out for Harry to inspect as he pleased.

Harry looked up at you, letting go of your thighs, and began to unzip his jeans, “Wanna see how much I like you?”

You nodded and laughed nervously as you watched him peel his jeans off and you could see the clear erection under his briefs. It was curved to the left a bit, tucked under the band of his underwear until he reached his hand in and positioned his cock upward.

You swallowed. You weren’t sure where to look. His strong thighs, his soft abs, his muscled pecs, or the glorious thick erection bulging at this underwear.

Tonight was your lucky night you decided.

“See? Pretty good match yeah?” He grinned as he smoothed his hands over your thighs again and up to your panties, “What do you want, Y/n? Should we take this further?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

He licked his lips again as he looked at your pretty face, “Okay. How far do you want to go with me?”

You inhaled and blinked your eyes. You wanted it all. Wanted whatever he wanted. Hoped he wanted to fuck you with that big thing but you weren’t sure that’s what he meant. Maybe he didn’t–“

Harry leaned over you and cupped your jaw gently, “Seems you’re overthinking a little so I’ll make this easy for you. I’ll tell you what I want and you just tell me if you like that or not. Okay?”

You nodded.

“First I want to touch you, under your panties. Get my fingers nice and wet, finger you a little. Then I want to taste it. Lick you up and down, make you feel good. Then I want to take you to my bed and have loud sex with you so everyone can hear how good I’m making you feel, how good you’re making me feel. Sound good?”

A cracked moan fell from your lips as you nodded, “Yeah. I like that.”

Harry’s grin widened as he let go of your face and brought both hands down to your panties, “Good. Then let’s get rid of these.”

You felt the wetness on the fabric as they were moved down your legs and then Harry’s fingers were running through your labia up and down. His eyes focused on your bare pussy.

When he pressed over your clit he watched your face and hissed when he saw your brows scrunch up and your lips part, “Right there, yeah? You like that?”

You nodded with your bottom lip bit into your mouth, looking from his face to where his thumb was pressed.

He used his free hand to push at your thigh as he continued stroking his fingers up and down, glazing his digits in your arousal before you felt him press at your entrance slowly.

“Open up for me, cherry… there we go, sweet girl. Fuck me…” he watched as he pressed two fingers inside slowly, your pussy wet and puffy. “So pretty. Look at tha’” he watched his fingers slide in and out and back in to his knuckles with the gushy sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers.

“Oh god…” you breathed out your words when he put his thumb back over your clit and began to press and circle as he continued pressing his fingers through your walls.

And the way he fingered you was only making you more wet, making you feel desperate. You moaned and ran your hands up your tummy to your tits, as you watched Harry’s arms flex as he fucked his fingers into you and stroked your front wall.

“Fuck that smells so good, cherry,” he kept his eyes on your cunt as he lowered himself down, “Gotta have some of this.”

It couldn’t have gotten any better than it was. Harry’s fingers already felt better than they should’ve but it did, in fact, get better. Because his big mouth and wide tongue on your clit had you unable to think straight as you let out a whine.

He kept his long fingers inside of you as he focused his lips and tongue on your clit. He could have taught a masterclass on cunnilingus. Even your toy didn’t feel like this. And it was a really good toy.

“Oh fuck!” You cried when he sucked your clit gently, using his tongue to press as he did so. The sound was lewd with his mouth on your pussy and his fingers tucked deep inside of you.

You’d need to bring him with you everywhere if this was how he did it. That toy was not going to cut it now that you’d felt how good it could really be.

When you’d finally lifted your head to look down at him you saw his eyes already opened, looking up at you as he swiped his tongue over your button, pink lips winding over your pussylips and up to your clit.

He let go of your thigh as he reached up for one of your hands and pushed his fingers between yours. You clung to his hand tight and gasped.

The gesture was so intimate, so sexy. It felt like everything he was doing was truly to make you feel good. He wasn’t rushing to get you off. The care and attention he gave you made you feel hot and shaky.

You couldn’t take your eyes off his as he worked your pussy and you began to shake.

You were putty in his hands. Totally unable to stop the unwinding of the tight coil in your tummy as you squeezed his hand and he moaned into your cunt.

And it happened so fast. The snap of your orgasm seemed to even shock Harry as his eyes widened when you began to come in his mouth.

He kept his mouth on you and his fingers inside of you as you cried out and threw your head back. He didn’t let go of your hand, keeping you grounded as every other part of you liquified and then evaporated into the atmosphere. The only parts of your body that remained intact, throbbing, and aching were your pussy and your hand. Only the parts he touched were whole. Everything else was hot liquid soaked into the couch.

Your chest heaved and your brain was fuzzy as he finally pulled his fingers from your hole and looked down at you, “Did you come?” The grin on his face told you he was being playful.

You laughed as you watched him wipe the edge of his mouth with his thumb and lick the mess up, his eyes on you.

And just like he said he wanted to do, he took you to his bed. He helped you up onto your wobbly legs and then kissed your lips, smearing your arousal all over your mouth. The kiss did nothing to make your legs feel solid but rather made you feel even weaker. So his assistance was very much needed to put you into his bed.

His room was lit with a lamp and his sheets felt clean as he pulled the blankets back for you and tucked a pillow under your head.

You watched him take his underwear off and then pull a condom from his drawer before he climbed onto the bed next to you, “Still want more?” He raised his brows at you in question.

You nodded and smiled, “Yeah. I do.” You couldn’t take your eyes off his cock, though. You absolutely wanted more. You wanted the whole shebang and if there was anything you knew about Harry it was that he could provide exactly that.

He grinned at you as he tore the wrapper and gripped himself at the tip, stroking down to coat himself in the bit of precome that had leaked from his slit before putting the condom over his impossibly hard cock. His entire cock was thick. From tip to base. It looked… heavy. It looked like it was going to tear you in half.

Harry watched as you ogled him. He didn’t mind. He was pretty proud of it himself. As he pushed himself up to his knees he pulled your legs apart and settled between your thighs.

He pushed his hips in close to yours and let his cock fall over your pelvis and up to your low tummy, measuring his size in comparison to you. You looked down from where his daunting cock lay heavy over you up to his face.

“I want it…” you breathed your words and Harry’s dimples smiled as he smirked at you.

“Oh, yeah? Want my cock inside your pussy, Cherry? Wanna feel it all the way up here?” He pressed over your low tummy and you moaned loudly.

Harry moved his hips back and then gripped his base as he dragged his cock through your drenched pussy, “Want me to fuck this soft pussy, slip in and out until you can’t handle it anymore?”

You nodded, “Please…”

“Please? How sweet. You are a sweet girl, aren’t you? I like sweet girls, Cherry, and you might be the sweetest one yet.”

Harry teased your pussy some more, his cockhead smoothing up and down, pushing your arousal up to your clit until you began to squirm under him and let out a small whimper.

He laughed as he finally stopped torturing you and pressed his thick crown to your entrance, pressing his bulbous crown to your entrance before he began to push through your tight, wet ring.

You gasped when you felt him entering you, slowly pushing your insides apart until he was tucked deep inside of you. He let out a deep breath when he finally had the luxury of feeling your hot pussy wrapped around him.

He thrust in again, bottoming out until his balls pressed against your ass. And again. And again.

He worked you open until he was satisfied that you were ready for more and then he leaned over you, his hands down next to your shoulders with his eyes on you, and began sinking into you so deep you thought you saw stars limning your vision.

“Your pussy feels just as good as it tastes, Cherry,” he moaned before he began to rock into you with more force, and you could hear the sound of his body smacking into yours each time he plunged in.

“Umph…” you grunted when he dipped in sharp.

“Yeah? Deep isn’t it? Pussy needed stuffed properly. Hm?”

Your body was being pounded into and there were no words that could form on your lips as your tits jolted up and down.

“Let me hear you, Cherry. Let me hear how good it feels. I can tell your pussy loves this, so wet and puffy for me…” his voice was shaky as he railed into you, “Am I treating you right, baby?”

You coughed out a moan and nodded your head as you held on to his forearms, “God! Fuck yes, Harry! Oh fuck!”

Harry’s own moan was loud as he watched your face twist up and listened to the way your pussy took his big cock.

“Yeah? Fuck that feels good, doesn’t it? Pretty thing was made to be fucked. Pussy so sweet needs to have her insides split open every day. Hm?” Harry was breathing hard between words.

“Oh my god… yes. Yes!”

Harry sat back onto his haunches and pulled you up so you were sitting on his lap as he spread his thighs for leverage to continue fucking into you. You yelped at the change of position and how deep he felt inside.

The new angle had his tip slamming into your guts and you grabbed onto his strong shoulders while his hands held your ass, guiding you over him.

Your body flopped up and down on his cock and against his pelvis as he sunk into you over and over again, his hips hammering up into yours.

You began to roll your hips down, smushing your button against him for friction as he continued thrusting upward.

When you finally let out a choked moan Harry gasped and pulled you in by the back of your neck to kiss your mouth. Soft licks against your tongue as your pussy was getting fucked into, had you beginning to shake and fall off the edge of the earth again.

Harry parted from the kiss and held you down on his lap, keeping his dick nudged against your cervix, “Already, Cherry?” He gently rolled upward, “Gonna come on my cock so soon? Can you hold off for a bit longer?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, “Yes. Sorry.”

“Shh… shh… Nothing to be sorry about. Means you like it,” he rutted up into you with a grin before laying you down to your back again, pushing your legs apart.

He began to push into you, his hips slamming against yours making his bed creak and your pussy clench around him. You didn’t know if you could hang on much longer as your thighs began to quiver. His cock was coaxing another orgasm from your body without you even focusing on it, which you normally had to do when you had sex. It was as if you had no say in whether your body should come or not.

“Shit!” He slowed his motions a little and leaned over you to brush his fingers along your cheekbone, “Are you okay?” He laughed as he asked.

You nodded, “I’m gonna come, Harry. I’m sorry I can’t stop it. If you fuck me like that…” Your rounded eyes and heavy breaths had Harry’s heart feverishly pounding.

“It’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong, Cherry. You just needed a good fucking didn’t you?”

You nodded and pulled your lips into your mouth.

“Yeah. That’s good, then. We’ll give you a nice good fucking,” he slowly pulled out to his tip and languidly moved himself back in making you moan.

“We can go nice and slow,” he repeated his motions, his thighs flexing as he held himself steady to fuck into you in long strokes, “Getting you all creamy. Hear it, Cherry?”

You did hear it as you nodded with a whine. The wetness coming from your pussy. The way his cock fucked your cream into your cunt. The way it sounded when he buried himself into the hilt and ground his hips against yours.

Harry watched your face scrunch up and your moans grow louder as he pushed his way into your tummy until he knew you couldn’t hold on any longer.

He sat back and fucked into you faster as he pressed his hand over your tummy, putting pressure on the spot where his cock was sliding through your insides and you lost it. You cried out his name and gurgles of nonsense as the frame of the bed began to rock into the wall and Harry coughed out a laugh at the way you began to thrash around on his cock.

He watched as he rutted into you, his cock disappearing into your cunt, your slick arousal all over his base and in his pubic hair.

You clamped down on him with your legs wobbly and he felt your walls contracting, squeezing his cock tight. He snapped his hips forward, pressing through your spasming cunt as his balls slapped into your ass and he moaned with you.

“Fuck! There you go, honey! Coming on my cock, yeah? Oh shit…” he watched your body press up each time he slammed into you, your face in ecstasy, and your wet pussy swallowing him whole as he finally began to come, releasing into his condom with a groan, “Draining my cock, cherry. Ohhh, ffff…”

Harry punched through your slick opening with the thick crown of his cock as he gushed into the rubber surrounding his dick until he stilled his hips and ground into you, swiveling in circles to empty every drop of himself.

You could feel him pumping inside of you, the heavy throbbing in his dick as he unloaded his sperm.

You both gasped when you’d finished and he lowered himself to kiss you hard. His hands cradled your face as his sensitive dick twitched inside of you.

Lifting your knees you wrapped your legs around his low back and he brought you down to your side, leaving you both connected fully, still kissing, his cock still deep inside of you.

The wave of euphoria that covered your entire being had you feeling so relaxed and so at peace you sighed and pushed your fingers into his hair.

You were surprised by your reaction to how he fucked you. And you wished you could have gone longer but he was so good, or… you didn’t know what it was exactly.

Harry parted from the kiss, keeping his face close to yours, “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable with it.”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

“How long has it been since you’ve had sex? I don’t mean masturbating either. Just curious.”

You squinted and looked toward the corner of the room before putting your eyes back on his, “Like, maybe a year? Something like that.”

Harry’s thumb grazed your cheek, “A year? So that means when you were living with K at that time you hadn’t had sex since before that even.”

You grinned and nodded, “I was in university. It was my senior year and I was super focused. And it just didn’t happen.”

“Poor thing. No wonder you were so sensitive to me. Came so fast, Cherry.”

You laughed, “I know. It’s never been like that before. Surprised me too.”

“I’m glad we met again. Feels like we should honor the universe and stick together for a while. Stay the night with me?”

You puffed out a laugh and rolled your eyes, “Let’s honor the universe. Obviously, she wants us to have sex and hang out.”

Harry watched your eyes crinkle up as you grinned and he chuckled, “She really does. I’m sure of it. So that’s a yes?”

You scratched your nails along the back of Harry’s head and smiled at him, “It’s definitely a yes.”

. .

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[hesbunnies]

✨️ here's a list of my favorite harry styles smut one-shots ✨️

@hsunrry

• assistant

• safe word

• moustache | moustache 2

• pretty boy

• don't leave me

• new side

• best i've ever had

• water whale

@gurugirl

• she likes to watch

• truth or dare

• says who?

@watchmegetobsessed

• flatmates

• good morning

• good girl

• tastes like strawberries

• an acean away

• all yours

• dogs or cats

• costume

• nervous

• edging

• my best girl

• next door

• wet dreams

• cover up

• delicious

• make ger regret it

• even if it takes forever

check out all my lists here!!

[jezebelblues]

𝐓𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝐇.𝐒 ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭)

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬’ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ (piv) oral (f!receiving), softrry, drunkrry, needy!h, alcohol, fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 8k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY)

❏ before anyone anons me i made the gif 😧 and thank u for the request anon !! this was so fun to write :) i hope it met ur expectations

masterlist

harry was in the kitchen, holding a wine glass half-filled with straight tequila, his pinky finger looped over the rim like it was fine champagne. YN stood next to him, one hand on his arm, steadying herself—or maybe steadying him.

"you're a liability, you know that?" she giggled, her words slurring just enough to make him grin.

"me?" he huffed, leaning into her slightly, his drink sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the glass. "'m the liability? you've been clingin' to me all night, petal, can't walk straight without me."

she smacked his arm lightly, laughing. "it's 'cause you keep givin' me tequila! this is your fault."

he tilted his head, his eyes squinting like he was genuinely considering this. then he shrugged, nonchalant, dimples flashing. "s'pose you're right. but i reckon you love me for it, yeah?”

"love you despite it," she corrected, but she was smiling, her fingers curling into the sleeve of his shirt.

the flat was warm, soft yellow light spilling over cluttered corners and half-empty glasses, the air thick with laughter. it was the kind of late evening that felt like the exact middle of spring—windows cracked open, a cool breeze sneaking in, ruffling the edges of the curtains. someone had put on a playlist an hour ago, though the music had long since melted into the background, now just a hum beneath the chatter. the small group, crowded into the cozy living room, was exactly the right size to make the space feel alive but not cramped.

their flat always smelled faintly of cedarwood and something clean, though tonight it carried undertones of tequila and lime. he’d insisted on tequila because, as he explained with a wide grin and an unconvincing shrug, “s’just easier that way, innit?” no one really argued, though mitch had given a (poorly executed) rick sanchez imitation as a counter, something that harry didn’t quite understand, leaving him to furrow his eyebrows and dart his eyes around as he mulled it over, mumbling, “why are y’speaking like that? i don’t get it.”

now, hours later, harry was sprawled in the corner of the couch, long legs stretched out, a glass balanced precariously on his knee.

“i swear—i’m swearin’ right now—this is the last one.” he mumbled, lifting his glass as though making a toast. his speech was just a little slurred, the tips of his curls sticking to his temples. YN, perched beside him, nudged his side with her elbow, laughing.

“you said that half an hour ago, baby.” she teased, leaning closer to steal a sip from his glass. his free hand immediately looped around her waist, pulling her snug against his side.

“’s different this time,” he insisted, his voice dipping low, mock serious. “i mean it now. promise.”

“oh, you’re so convincing.” she smiled, her fingers absently running along the seam of his shirt, her touch light and familiar.

on the other side of the coffee table, mitch snorted, tipping his head back against the edge of the sofa. his hair, always a little unruly, had fallen out of whatever loose tie it had been in earlier. sarah, seated on the floor beside him with her legs crossed, nudged him in the ribs.

“you’re not much better,” she pointed out, gesturing to the glass in his hand.

“oi, don’t start,” he shot back, lifting a hand in mock defense.

the back-and-forth had been going on like this for the better part of the evening—easy, unfiltered, slightly nonsensical. everyone was comfortably slouched, shoulders loose, cheeks warm, the kind of drunk that makes the room feel like it’s spinning just the tiniest bit, but not enough to care.

harry had been stealing glances at YN all night, grinning at the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, her cheeks flushed from a combination of alcohol and the warmth of the room. she caught him staring at one point and poked his chest, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“what are you looking at?”

“you.” he shrugged simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, blinking at her as if she was blurry and needed to come into focus.

YN rolled her eyes, though her smile gave her away. she parted her lips to speak, though harry cut her off before she could bother.

"you're all–” he gestured vaguely at her face, his voice lilting like he hadn't figured out the rest of the sentence yet. "and i'm–" another aimless wave of his hand, this time at himself.

"you're what?" she asked, tilting her head, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.

harry leaned closer, his knee brushing hers. his curls had started to flatten at his temples, damp from the heat of the room, and his cheeks were flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “i’m in love.” his words were slightly sing-song, punctuated by the tilt of his head.

the room dissolved into chaos not long after, though no one could say for certain what triggered it. maybe it was the tequila. maybe it was just the kind of energy that builds when a group of close friends is together in one place, everyone feeding off the same shared sense of silliness.

“right,” mitch announced suddenly, sitting up straight and nearly spilling his drink in the process. “i bet—” he paused, frowning in concentration as though piecing the words together took effort. “i bet i could do more push-ups than you.”

he blinked, the challenge taking a moment to register. then his brows lifted, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“you’re jokin’, right?”

“nah, m’serious.” he leaned forward, setting his glass on the table with a decisive thunk.

“you’re both idiots.” sarah breathed, though she was already pulling her phone out, clearly ready to document whatever was about to happen.

YN groaned, burying her face in her hands. “please don’t encourage them.”

“what, you don’t believe in me?” harry asked, feigning hurt as he turned to look at her.

“you’ve had, like, seven shots of tequila, h.”

he held up a finger. “six. maybe five and a half.”

she looked at him, tongue in cheek, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “not helping your case.”

in the end, there was no stopping it. mitch had already shifted to his knees, clearing a space in front of the coffee table. harry followed suit, swaying slightly as he stood and then immediately dropping down to the floor.

“’s not fair, though,” harry slurred as YN slid a pillow beneath his fists. “i’ve got longer arms. more distance t’cover.”

“what kind of logic is that?” sarah asked, laughing.

“solid–“ hiccup “–solid logic.” he muttered, lowering himself into position.

for the first few push-ups, they were evenly matched. mitch, whose hair kept falling in his face, managed to hold his form pretty well, his elbows bending at clean angles. harry, despite the tequila, seemed entirely unbothered, his movements smooth and steady.

“oh, this is ridiculous,” YN mumbled, though she was grinning now, leaning forward with her chin resting in her palm.

“keep count.” mitch grunted, while sarah angled her phone to get both of them in the frame.

“seven,” YN called, her voice louder over the sound of their laughter.

“eight,” sarah chimed in.

“nine,” she smiled, though by this point, mitch was visibly struggling. his arms trembled, his breaths coming out in quick puffs, his hair falling into his mouth. harry, on the other hand, was still going strong, his movements punctuated by muttered comments.

“easy.” push. “light work.” push–hiccup. “this one’s for you, petal.” he added, shooting a quick wink at his girlfriend.

“oh my god.”

“thirteen,” sarah announced, though she sounded doubtful as mitch wobbled dangerously, his arms nearly giving out.

"how's he doin' that?" sarah asked, watching harry like he was some kind of anomaly.

harry started to strain just a bit, "core strength, love.”

"core strength my ass," mitch shot back, collapsing flat onto the floor. "he's built like a fuckin' slinky. bounces back."

YN laughed so hard she snorted, and harry immediately glanced up, his expression melting into something soft and dopey the second he saw her.

“i’m—i’m done.” mitch declared, already rolling over onto his back.

harry sat back on his knees, raising his fists in mock triumph. “and the crowd goes wild,” he said, grinning up at YN.

“you’re arrogant.” she sighed, though she reached for his wrist, tugging him back onto the couch beside her.

“what can i say,” harry mumbled, settling against her. “m’good at everything.”

the evening wound down slowly after that, the energy softening into something quieter, sleepier. sarah scrolled through the video on her phone, narrating bits of it for everyone’s amusement.

“look at mitch,” she said, laughing. “he looks like he’s dying.”

“i was dying,” mitch muttered from the floor, his arm thrown dramatically over his eyes.

YN reached for harry’s hand, threading her fingers through his, her voice low and teasing.

“are you proud of yourself?”

“very.” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple.

and for a while, no one said much of anything. the playlist had shifted to something softer, the kind of music you hum along to without thinking. the tv, still on in the background, flickered faintly, casting shadows across the room. harry’s arm rested around YN’s shoulders, his eyes fluttered closed, his thumb drawing slow circles against her skin.

mitch was still on the floor, sprawled out like a martyr, while sarah waved her phone in his direction, wobbling as she stood.

"y'done, jesus christ?" she asked, her words swimming together in a way that made her laugh at herself. "need any help, or you reckon you'll just ascend back t'heaven on your own?"

“ha fuckin’ ha," mitch mumbled, lifting one hand in a weak attempt at a rude gesture. "perfectly fine, thank you."

"you're not," sarah replied, flopping onto the arm of the sofa. she nearly slid off, catching herself with a giggle before poking YN with her foot. "and neither's your fella."

YN glanced sideways at harry, who was leaning so far into her that she might as well have been holding him upright. his nose was tucked against her temple, and he was humming something under his breath—a soft, disjointed melody that might've been a song or might've been nothing at all.

"all good," he muttered, his words smudged around the edges. "better'n mitch, anyway."

"low bar.”

he opened one eye, a mischievous glint sparking through his drowsy expression as he glanced at mitch, then back toward YN. "m in love with you, y'know," he breathed, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

"we know.” mitch groaned from the floor.

"no, but like–” he pushed himself up slightly, though his movements were clumsy, his balance swaying like a tree in the wind. "like, really in love. like, proper. s’serious.”

“oh yeah?” she asked, though her hands flew to her cheeks, trying to cover the pink that bloomed there.

he reached out, his fingers fumbling to gently tug her hands away from her face. "don't hide from me," he pouted, his voice soft and warm. "can't handle it when you hide."

sarah made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, shaking her head as she leaned over to prod mitch with her foot. "we need to leave before he gets worse," she said.

"worse? how can he get worse?" he replied, his voice muffled from where he was still sprawled on the rug.

harry didn't seem to notice them. he was focused entirely on YN, his gaze heavy and unflinching as he settled his head into her lap.

"you're so pretty," he hummed, his words slow and drawn out like he was tasting them for the first time. "have i told you that tonight?"

"a couple of times.”

"doesn't feel like enough.” he frowned, his fingers brushing against her knee like he was grounding himself in her. "you're... you're unreal. sometimes i look at you and i can't believe—" he trailed off, shaking his head like words weren't enough.

"he's gonna make me cry.” sarah whispered, half-laughing as she leaned into mitch's shoulder.

"you'll get used to it.” YN rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling.

harry frowned deeper, looking up at her. "don't roll your eyes at me. 'm being serious."

"oh, i know you are, dork.” she grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a small, pleased sound escaping his lips.

"if i don't call an uber now, i'm never getting out of here.” sarah said suddenly, sitting up and reaching for her phone.

"why would you wanna leave?" harry asked, turning his head to squint at her. "you're comfy. stay."

"gotta leave before this turns into a whole bloody soft-core," mitch muttered, finally pushing himself into a sitting position.

harry’s eyes narrowed in slight confusion, his lips parting as he whispered the word soft-core in different tones over and over as if it might click.

mitch let out a noise that was half a laugh, half a sigh. "you’ll get it eventually, mate.”

sarah stood, brushing off her jeans as she looked down at YN. "you gonna be alright with him?"

she glanced at her boyfriend, who was still nestled into her lap, mulling mitch’s response still. "he's harmless," she shrugged. "just annoying when he's drunk–”

harry interrupted with a sharp clap of his hands that turned into a point in mitch’s direction, shoulders shaking in slurred, squeaky laughter. “s-soft–core porno!” he giggled, his cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled. “that was a good one. this guy.”

mitch rolled his eyes, waving harry’s laughter off before he looked at YN. “have fun with this fool in the morning.”

"love you.” he mumbled immediately, moving his hand to give her thigh an exaggerated squeeze.

"yeah, yeah.” she laughed as she pried his hand off her.

"alright, we're off," sarah announced, grabbing mitch's arm and pulling him to his feet.

"safe travels! love you guys!” harry called weakly, his words slurring together as he waved at them from where he lay.

YN walked them to the door, leaning against the frame as they stepped out into the hallway.

"text me when you're home.” she insisted, earning a nod from sarah.

when she turned back into the flat, harry was sitting upright on the couch, his legs tucked under him like a kid waiting to be told a bedtime story.

he pouted slightly, "you left me.”

“and you lived!” she smiled, as if she was astonished. “my boy’s a survivor.”

"barely.” he groaned, flopping dramatically back against the cushions.

YN crossed the room and plopped down beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "you're so much worse than usual tonight."

"can't help it," he shrugged, his head tipping to rest on her shoulder. "you bring it out in me."

"oh, so this is my fault now?" she teased, her hand sliding into his hair again.

he only hummed an, “mhm,” before he tried to push himself closer toward her.

"stay here forever," he mumbled.

"i already live here," she reminded him.

"no, like—forever," he insisted, his fingers brushing hers where they rested on the couch. "promise you won't leave me. not ever."

YN turned her head to look at him, her heart twisting at the vulnerable expression on his face. “baby, where's this coming from?"

he shrugged, looking down at their hands. "just love you so much it scares me sometimes."

"i'm not going anywhere.”

"promise?"

"promise.” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead to his.

his breath hitched, and for a moment, they just stayed like that, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.

"alright," he breathed finally, his voice shaky but lighter now. "but you have to keep scratching my head or i'll revoke your girlfriend privileges."

the flat felt too quiet now that mitch and sarah were gone, the absence of their voices leaving only the faint buzz of the tv and the occasional sound of cars splashing through puddles outside. the mess of empty bottles and glasses scattered across the coffee table didn't seem to matter. nothing did, really. just him. just her.

harry's lips found hers eventually, and god, it was all so drunk and messy. the kind of kiss where his mouth didn't quite find the right angle, and she ended up laughing against him, her hands pushing gently at his chest.

"you're so bad at this," she teased, her words soft and slurred, her face warm with the alcohol coursing through her.

he pulled back just enough to look at her, his brows furrowing dramatically, lips parted in mock-offense. "bad at this? me?"

"yeah," she said, biting back another laugh. “you're awful. terrible. completely hopeless."

"hopeless?" he repeated, his accent thicker, vowels stretching and tangling together. his hands slid down her back, settling on her hips with a grip that was just firm enough to make her breath hitch. "you're sittin' with me, kissin' me, tellin' me i'm hopeless. 's'not very nice, is it?"

"maybe you deserve it.” she grinned, her forehead leaning against his.

he made a low, disbelieving sound in his throat, but his lips were twitching, caught somewhere between outrage and affection. "you're trouble, you are. absolute trouble."

"and you love it."

"fuckin' right, i do," he said, smiling as his hands tugged her hips forward slightly, pulling her more firmly into his lap.

the movement had her tumbling into him, her face pressed against his neck as they both laughed, a breathless, bubbling kind of laughter that only made her feel warmer. his breath tickled her ear as he spoke again, voice soft but tinged with that familiar teasing edge.

"bet i'm not that bad at it," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.

"you are, though," she insisted, but her voice was quieter now, a little unsteady.

"mm, don't think so," he hummed, his mouth trailing clumsily down her neck, his stubble rough against her skin. "reckon you'd've gone t’bed by now if i was, wouldn't you?"

her fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly at the curls at the nape of his neck. "reckon i'm too drunk to leave," she teased, but the way her voice caught on the last word betrayed her.

"nah," he said, one hand drifting under the hem of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her bare skin. "you're drunk, but not that drunk. you like me too much."

"you're so full of yourself," she whispered, laughing again, but it came out breathier this time, her body leaning into his touch without thinking.

he hummed, his thumb tracing slow circles over her side. "but y'don't seem t'mind."

she didn't. not one bit.

his lips found hers again, slower this time, a little steadier despite the alcohol making his movements clumsy. he kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like they weren't surrounded by a sea of half-empty glasses and the faint smell of tequila.

things felt hazy, lazier, punctuated by quiet giggles and the occasional whispered comment that sent them both into fits of laughter. his hands were warm and wandering, slipping under her shirt, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding up her back.

"you're gonna get me all tangled," she muttered when his hand accidentally caught the hem of her bra, tugging it sideways.

"oops," he said, grinning sheepishly, his fingers clumsily fixing it. "sorry, petal. too drunk f’precision, aren't i?"

"you're too drunk for a lot of things," she teased, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"uh-uh," he murmured, his hands settling on her hips again, adjusting them roughly, sloppily as he shifted her back to rest against the cushions. "not for this. not for you."

her chest tightened at the way he said it, his voice soft and so full of affection that it made her feel like the center of the universe.

the couch creaked under their combined weight, and harry was leaning too far into her, half on top of her, his body slumped and heavy in that jellied, boneless way. his mouth was pressed to her neck, leaving messy kisses between murmured half-thoughts, most of which didn't even make sense. '…m’tellin' you," he mumbled, his lips brushing against her skin. "you're too beautiful for your own good. s'gonna be a problem f’me."

"a problem?" she repeated, laughing breathlessly as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, trying to steady him. "harry, you're literally falling over."

"no m’not," he insisted, though his weight shifted again, and his elbow slipped off the armrest. he caught himself just in time, his hand landing somewhere between the cushion and her thigh.

"you are!" she laughed a bit harder now, her body shaking with it.

he looked at her, all wide, glassy green eyes and flushed cheeks, his hair a mess of curls that kept falling into his face. "i’m not," he said again, grinning in that slow, drunk way that made her heart trip over itself.

then, as if to prove his point, he leaned in closer, nudging her chin with his nose before kissing her again, clumsily and so, so sweet.

"har–” she started, but she barely got the word out before his knee slipped, and suddenly he was gone, tumbling sideways off the couch.

it happened so fast she didn't even have time to grab him. one second, he was on her, warm and heavy and everywhere, and the next, he was on the floor in a heap of gangly limbs and laughter.

"jesus,” she gasped, leaning over the edge of the couch to look at him.

but harry wasn't upset. not even a little bit. he was lying on his back, laughing so hard his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving with it.

she covered her face with her hands, though she couldn't stop laughing either. "you okay?"

"all good.” he said through his laughter, his voice a little high-pitched from how breathless he was.

he rolled onto his side, one hand braced on the floor, the other wiping at his face as he grinned up at her. "just... miscalculated. s'all."

"think that’s an understatement, baby.” she shook her head as she sat up on the cushions, still giggling.

“see?” he pushed himself up to his knees with a dramatic groan, "you’re too gorgeous for me t'function right now."

she watched him, her laughter softening into a fond smile as he sat back on his heels, looking up at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

his hands, big and clumsy but warm, found her knees, gently pushing them apart as he shifted closer, his breath still unsteady from laughing.

"harry,” she murmured, a little breathless now, her voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a warning.

he shushed her, his fingers brushing up her thighs, just barely slipping under the hem of her shorts. "just…lemme,”

"lemme what?" she asked, though her body was already responding to him, her knees falling wider apart.

he grinned, tilting his head to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh. "taste you," he slurred, his voice low and warm and so full of affection that it made her toes curl. "s’been all i can think about."

her tummy flipped, and she bit her lip, her fingers curling into the edge of the couch cushion. "you’re too drunk for this."

he shook his head, pressing another kiss to her thigh, this one a little higher. "no, m’not. i’m exactly drunk enough. look–” he gestured vaguely at himself, nearly losing his balance before catching himself on her leg. "perfectly steady."

she couldn't help it—she laughed, her head tipping back against the couch as she looked down at him.

his hands slid farther up her legs, feather-light and teasing, enough to make a heat pool between her thighs, harry gazing up at her through his eyelashes.

she tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat as he leaned forward, his face so close now, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. the heat of him, the desperation in his touch, sent a shiver racing up her spine.

"baby–” she breathed, her voice softer now, less sure.

his eyes were hazy but so full of love it made her chest ache. "please," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, something that sounded dangerously close to a whimper. "lemme taste it, yeah? promise i’ll be good."

her breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could do was nod, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to his hair.

"yeah, petal?” he asked, his grin widening, and the sheer joy in his expression made her heart feel like it was going to burst.

“yeah.”

his hands were unsteady, but they were so careful, so sure of their purpose as they slid further up her thighs, the soft cotton of her shorts bunching under his fingertips. he was still grinning like an idiot, lips hovering just above her skin, his curls brushing against her as he peppered sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her leg. "you're so soft," he mumbled, voice muffled against her thigh, his words sticky with alcohol and affection.

"it feels good.” she whispered back, her hands carding through his curls, tugging gently when his teeth scraped just a little too hard.

"you love me?” he asked, turning his head to rest his cheek against her, blinking up at her like a puppy who'd just been caught making a mess.

her fingers stilled in his hair as he looked up at her, all wide, glassy green eyes and flushed cheeks, his lips parted slightly as he waited for her answer. she bit her bottom lip, feeling the words catch in her throat as she stared down at him.

"you already know i do.” she murmured, her voice soft and shaky, her hands sliding down to cup his face. her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, his skin warm beneath her touch.

"say it, though," he slurred, a little whiny now, his lips forming into a slight pout.

"i love you, h.” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm, and his expression softened immediately, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his face into her palm.

"love you too," he muttered, almost too quiet for her to hear, though his words were followed by a sloppy kiss to the inside of her wrist, his lips warm and soft against her skin.

and then, without missing a beat, his mouth was back on her thigh, moving higher with a desperation that had her legs trembling.

"smell so fuckin' good," he muttered, his voice muffled against her skin. his hands slid up to the waistband of her shorts, fumbling slightly as he tugged at the fabric. "need these off, petal. lemme see you."

her breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushing as she lifted her hips slightly, helping him ease the shorts down her legs. his hands were uncoordinated, tugging too hard at one side and almost making her laugh, but the intensity in his expression stopped her. he was looking at her like she was something sacred, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he pushed the shorts off and tossed them aside.

"you're s’beautiful," he said, his words slurring together as his hands settled on her thighs again, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there. "you know that? d'you even know?"

"you're drunk.”

"no such thing," he muttered, shaking his head as he leaned in, his lips brushing over her panties. "could be fuckin' blackout and i'd still want you more than anything. always want you, YN."

she couldn't help it—she whimpered, the sound surprising even herself as her fingers slid into his hair again, tugging gently to pull him closer.

he looked up at her with that soft, pleading expression that made her heart stutter. "gonna let me?”

her voice caught in her throat, and all she could do was nod, her fingers tightening in his curls as he grinned, his dimples flashing even in his drunken haze.

"that's m’girl," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hip before hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties and sliding them down.

the cool air made her shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth, the way he pressed soft, deliberate kisses to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, working his way higher.

he let out a breathy laugh as he settled between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs to hold her steady. "smell like heaven. taste like it too, i bet."

she whimpered, her head tipping back against the couch as his tongue flicked out, the first slow, teasing stroke making her whole body jolt.

he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, and she couldn't hold back the moan that spilled from her lips, loud and unrestrained.

"that's it," he sighed, his voice muffled as his tongue moved against her clit, his hands tightening on her thighs. "that's m’good girl. so sweet for me."

his words were slurred and incoherent, broken up by the way he licked and sucked at her pussy like she was spilling honey, like he couldn't get enough.

her hands clutched at his hair, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as her legs trembled on either side of his head.

his tongue swirled and flattened against her until her hips bucked more than once, a shaking mess in his hands as he pulled her closer to his mouth—so close he could drown in her (not that he’d mind).

“fuck–” she moaned, a shaky exhale leaving her lips as he dipped lower, his tongue flicking against her hole, sloppy and eager.

he hummed against her, the sound low and rough and completely unselfconscious, like he couldn't help but lose himself in her. "could stay here forever," he muttered, his lips moving against her like a prayer. "live here. die here. s'worth it."

his hands gripped her thighs tighter as she let out the lightest giggle from his words, pulling her closer, spreading her wider. he kissed her deeper, his tongue sliding into her, slow and deliberate and so desperate it made her chest ache.

her breath hitched, her legs trembling on either side of his head, and he groaned like she was the best thing he'd ever tasted, like he couldn't get enough. "god, you're so good," he slurred, his voice unsteady as he pulled back just enough to look up at her, his lips slick and swollen. "so, so good, YN. d'you even know? fuckin' perfect, petal. can't believe you're mine."

the rest of his words melted into incoherent sounds, soft groans and murmured praise that blended with her own breathy moans as he delved back in to lap at her, circling her clit like it was the only thing that mattered.

her head tipped back, her body arching into his touch as he dragged her closer and closer to the edge, his movements clumsy but so desperate, so full of love that it made her chest ache.

when she came, it was sudden and all-consuming, her body shaking as she cried out, her moans spilling into the quiet room like music. harry didn't stop, his hands holding her steady as his tongue worked her through it, his own groans muffled against her as though he was enjoying every second as much as she was.

when her body finally stilled, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, he pressed one last soft kiss to her inner thigh before leaning back, his face flushed and glistening, his grin wide and satisfied.

harry shifted up the couch with all the determination of a man who was too drunk to move properly but too stubborn to let that stop him. his arms framed either side of her, his body hovering as best he could, though it was more of a slow collapse than anything elegant. he grunted softly as he settled his weight, pressing her deeper into the cushions, their bodies flush in a way that made both of them shiver despite the warmth of the room.

she let out a quiet laugh, breathless against the way his curls brushed against her face, sticking to his damp forehead. he huffed at the sound, lips tugging into a sloppy grin before pressing them clumsily to hers. the kiss was slow and sweet at first-warm and gentle, his mouth barely brushing against hers like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

but then she shifted slightly beneath him, her fingers curling into his sides, and it was like something broke loose in him. the kiss deepened, messy and urgent, all soft gasps and the taste of tequila lingering on his lips. he kissed her like he was starved for it, as if every second that passed without her mouth on his was unbearable.

his hands roamed her body as if he didn't know where to settle, tugging at her waist, smoothing over her thighs, curling under her back like he needed to feel every part of her. his hips pressed against hers instinctively, and he groaned into her mouth, the sound loud and unfiltered as he broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead falling to hers.

harry looked down at her, his eyes blown wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly. he tried to push himself up further, but his movements were clumsy, his arms wobbling under his own weight. she couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her lips, and he scrunched his face into a dramatic pout, shaking his head slightly like a sleepy puppy.

his hands fumbled at the hem of his jeans, tugging once before stopping completely, his shoulders sagging. he groaned softly, his head dropping to her shoulder with an audible thud.

"bloody things," he mumbled against her skin, though the words were barely coherent.

she smiled softly to herself, her hands sliding up his back, her fingers brushing over the waistband where he'd given up.

gently, she nudged at his hips, wordlessly guiding him upward until he sat back on his knees, his hands resting heavily against her thighs for balance. his breathing was heavy, his cheeks flushed pink, his curls damp against his forehead.

there was a quiet kind of helplessness in the way he looked at her then—needy and desperate, his lips parted, his brows furrowed slightly like he couldn't figure out how to do this on his own. she didn't make him ask.

her hands moved to the button of his jeans, quick but careful as she popped it open. he let out a soft, shaky exhale as she tugged the zipper down, his body trembling just slightly under her touch. the denim caught on his hips as she tried to push it down, and harry huffed again, adjusting his weight clumsily to help her pull the fabric free.

"lift," she murmured softly, and he obeyed without hesitation, planting his hands firmly on either side of her hips and raising his body just enough to let her drag the jeans down.

he collapsed back onto his knees with a relieved groan as the fabric pooled around his legs, his head tipping back, his chest rising and falling like he'd just run a marathon. she reached for the waistband of his boxers next, her movements slower this time, deliberate, her fingers brushing against the bare skin of his hips as she slid the fabric down.

his breath hitched at the contact, and he swayed slightly, his hands curling into the cushions beside her for balance. for a moment, he just stared down at her, his expression soft and hazy and so full of need that it made her stomach flip.

"there," she whispered softly, her hands moving to rest against his thighs, steadying him.

harry blinked slowly, his eyes dragging over her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. then, without a word, he leaned back down, his body pressing hers into the cushions again as his lips found hers.

the kiss was desperate now, sloppier than before, their teeth bumping together as they both tried to breathe and laugh through it. his hands slid beneath her, wrapping around her back like he was holding her in place, his chest pressing firmly to hers with every ragged breath.

he just rocked against her instinctively, his movements uncoordinated but eager, drawing a quiet gasp from her lips. harry groaned softly in response, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he muttered something incoherent.

his body was heavy against hers, his warmth and weight overwhelming, but there was something grounding in the way he held her, in the quiet hum of his breathing against her neck. she threaded her fingers into his hair, stroking softly at the curls, and he shivered, his hips pressing closer against hers with a whimper that he didn't bother trying to hold back.

"feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled and thick, each word dripping with need. "fuckin—love you. need–need to be inside.”

her chest ached at the way he said it, so raw and honest, and she pulled him closer, their bodies tangling together in the dim light of the flat. harry kissed her again, his hands curling around her waist, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him steady.

he was desperate and clumsy, but god, he was hers. every part of him, hers.

harry moved in desperation, his body heavy and warm against hers as he lined himself up, his forehead pressing to hers. his breathing was ragged, sharp exhales mingling with hers, their chests rising and falling in time. every movement he made was tinged with an uncoordinated eagerness, like he couldn't bear to wait any longer.

he pushed in slowly at first, a groan catching in his throat as he sank into her dripping cunt, his hands gripping at her waist, rough and unsteady.

her body arched instinctively beneath him, her breath hitching as the stretch of his cock pulled a quiet gasp from her lips.

he froze for a moment, his chest pressed to hers, his arms trembling just slightly from the effort of holding himself up. it was like the sensation alone had shattered him, that raw, shaky pause where the world stopped and all that was left was her.

a shaky exhale escaped him, his lips brushing against her cheek as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. he groaned low and drawn-out, the sound muffled against her skin, his grip on her hips tightening as though he was trying to catch his breath.

he started to move, slow and unsteady, his hips rocking forward with a rhythm that was anything but precise—clumsy and needy but so full of need it didn't matter. every thrust drove him deeper into her velvety walls, his body trembling with the effort, soft curses slipping from his lips as he moved.

his weight pressed her further into the cushions, the creak of the couch mixing with the faint, unrestrained sounds escaping them both—her breathless moans, his whiny, broken groans, sounds neither of them were capable of stifling. everything felt louder in the quiet of the flat, the slow slap of skin against skin, the occasional sharp intake of breath when he hit just the right spot.

her hands slid up his back, her nails scraping lightly against his skin, and harry's body jolted in response, his thrusts faltering. he let out a choked whimper, his face still buried in her neck, his lips pressing sloppy kisses against her skin between ragged breaths.

"fuck," he groaned into her ear, though the word wasn't clear, his voice so shaky and low it dissolved into nothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his angle, and the next thrust pulled a gasp from her lips—a sharp rut right against the spongy spot where she felt him the most.

her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer, and harry groaned again, his movements growing rougher, needier.

his arms shook where they braced against the cushions, his entire body trembling from the effort as he picked up his pace, the steady slap of his hips against hers becoming louder, more insistent. there was no rhythm to it, no finesse—just harry losing himself in her, fucking into her like he'd come undone, like his body couldn't stop itself from chasing the feeling of her pussy wrapped around him.

his curls brushed against her cheeks, damp with sweat, his breath hot and uneven as he nuzzled into her neck. the sounds he made were broken now—small, helpless whines and whimpers escaping him between harsh, ragged breaths.

her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly, and his whole body stuttered in response, his hips driving forward with a sharp snap that had her gasping, her voice loud and unrestrained. the sound pulled another whine from him, his hands slipping from her hips to drag up her sides, his thumbs stroking over the curve of her waist, up toward the swell of her tits, the sensitive bud that tightened with his touch.

the couch creaked with every frantic movement, the room filled with the echo of their ragged breaths and soft cries. harry's body never stilled, his thrusts erratic and desperate, his chest pressed tightly to hers their sweat-slicked skin sticking together.

his body tensed as he started to lose control, his pace faltering, his movements turning jerky and uneven. his arms gave out then, and he collapsed on top of her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder as his hips snapped into her, over and over, his entire body trembling.

her breath caught, her back arching as the pressure built between them, everything else blurring into the background—nothing but the feeling of his cock, the sound of him, the weight of him.

and then she felt him shudder, a broken groan ripping from his throat as he buried himself deep, the twitch of his length as he spilt himself inside her, his entire body going rigid. he trembled against her, his hands clutching at her waist as though holding on for dear life, his voice dissolving into breathless whimpers against her neck.

harry didn't pull away, didn't move. he stayed draped over her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his face still buried in her neck. his hands smoothed over her sides, shaking slightly as he traced soft, lazy patterns against her skin, grounding himself in the warmth of her.

the silence settled over them slowly, the only sound left in the room their breathing, loud and uneven as they both came down. harry pressed a kiss to her shoulder-soft, tender, nothing like the desperation from moments before.

"fuck," he mumbled finally, his voice hoarse and muffled. "m’addicted to your pussy. swear it."

she let out a soft, breathless laugh, her hands still tangled in his hair as she scratched lightly at his scalp. his whole body relaxed at the motion, a quiet, contented sigh escaping him as he melted further into her.

they stayed tangled together on the couch for a while, the quiet hum of the flat settling around them, their breathing slowly evening out. harry didn’t move much—just shifted enough to nuzzle his face further into her neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to her skin like he couldn’t quite help himself. her fingers carded through his hair, slow and steady, the repetitive motion lulling him into a contented daze.

“you comfortable there?” she murmured, her voice soft, muffled slightly by the way her cheek pressed against the curls at his temple.

“mmh,” he hummed, the sound low and heavy. “too comfortable. can’t move.”

“i’m not carrying you to bed,” she teased, her lips curving into a tired smile.

he let out a quiet groan, a sound so dramatic it made her laugh softly, her body shaking beneath him. he lifted his head slowly, resting his chin against her chest as he blinked up at her, his green eyes sleepy and glassy.

“‘s not fair, you’re too pretty,” he mumbled, grinning softly. “don’t wanna leave you here.”

“stuck with me either way, baby.” she whispered, brushing his curls back from his face, her fingers lingering at his temple.

his smile softened at that, his eyes fluttering shut briefly as he leaned into her touch. then, with an exaggerated sigh, he pushed himself up, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

“alright,” he said, though his voice was still thick with sleep and leftover drunkenness. “bedtime. c’mere.”

before she could protest, his arms were already curling around her, one under her knees and the other cradling her back as he lifted her off the couch.

“harry—” she gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. “you’re gonna drop me.”

he scoffed at that, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip, pulling her closer against him. “m’gonna pretend i didn’t hear that.”

she sighed into him, letting her cheek rest against the crook of his shoulder as he carried her across the room, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. her fingers slid into his hair again, stroking gently, and he let out a quiet, pleased hum at the sensation.

he moved slowly, carefully, his steps deliberate despite the weight of the tequila still sitting in his veins. he was headed toward the bedroom, but as he passed the kitchen, something caught his eye.

a glass—half full of tequila, a lone lime slice floating lazily in the liquid.

harry paused mid-step, his arms tightening around YN to keep her secure as he turned his head, squinting at the glass like it had personally called his name.

“oh, for god’s sake,” she muttered, though her voice was warm and amused, her fingers still playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

harry ignored her, shifting her weight slightly to free one hand, his arm still wrapped firmly around her waist. with the other, he reached for the glass, his movements slow and exaggerated, like he was performing a high-stakes maneuver.

“i can’t believe you,” she said, her laughter muffled by his shoulder.

“can’t leave it there,” he replied, lifting the glass to his lips and draining it in one go. the tequila burned down his throat, and he winced slightly, his face scrunching up before he set the empty glass back on the counter with a quiet clink.

“all better now?” she teased, tilting her head slightly to glance up at him.

“much.” he grinned widely, bunny teeth and dimples as he adjusted his grip on her again, turning back toward the bedroom.

he carried her the rest of the way, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot before stepping inside. the room was dimly lit by the streetlights filtering through the curtains, casting faint, golden shadows over the rumpled sheets and pillows.

harry eased her down onto the bed, following after her almost immediately, collapsing onto the mattress with a soft groan. she laughed as he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face in her neck again, his legs tangling with hers.

“this is where i’m stayin’,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her skin.

“good,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, her fingers brushing through his curls again.

they settled into the bed together, the weight of the night pulling them under like a blanket, warm and heavy and sweet. harry’s breathing slowed, his arms still tight around her as if he was afraid she might slip away in the dark.

“love you,” he murmured, the words barely audible, slurred with sleep.

“love you too,” she whispered back, her voice soft as her eyes fluttered shut, her hand still tangled in his hair.

[freedomfireflies]

One Day*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you still hate Harry, but turns out, you might be having his baby.

Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, spanking, brief choking, slight angst (happy ending), mentions of pregnancy and babies! *Please be so gentle with yourself and only continue if you feel comfortable! 💞*

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

You huff. “I’m late,” you repeat, gesturing frantically toward your hips. “A week late. Which I know can happen, but…not really to me, so…I’m late. And I think we’re fucked.”

Harry blinks. Looks down at your stomach. Looks up at your face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You rear back. “That’s all you have to say for yourself is oh?”

He lifts his left shoulder in nonchalant shrug before flopping down onto your sofa. “I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

“I…I don’t know,” you huff. “I kind of thought you’d…yell. Or freak out or something. Or ask me if I’m keeping it.”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“Well…no. Not really.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t even…I’m not even sure if I am yet or not.”

“Okay.” He nudges his glasses up before crossing his arms. “Well did you get a test?”

You glance toward the pharmacy bag still sitting on your kitchen counter. It’s been mocking you ever since you picked it up. Staring you down, sticking out its tongue. One, tiny little box that’ll determine the next chapter of your life. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I, um…got one on the way home from work.”

“Okay. Have you taken it yet?”

“Not…exactly.”

His brow raises. “Do you…need help or something?”

You scowl. “It’s peeing on a stick, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, well, knowing you, you’d find a way to fuck it up.” He smirks. “Sure hope our baby gets my brains instead of yours.”

You grab the pillow beside him and give him a firm whack. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs as he winces. “Good. I wasn’t being funny.”

“Then, stop it. And stop being so calm.”

“You just said you preferred calm—”

“Well…it’s scaring me now. So what gives?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t really feel the need to waste a reaction on something we don’t even know is happening yet. Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like.”

“You say that like someone that’s had a lot of pregnancy scares.”

He snorts. “No, I say that like someone who knows freaking out won’t exactly help you right now. So just take the goddamn test, Tinkerbell. And we’ll go from there.”

Unamused, but somehow slightly comforted, you oblige and snatch the box from the table before retreating to the bathroom.

Once the timer has been set, you slowly make your way back to him.

He’s still sitting on the sofa. Calm. Unaffected. Watching you without a care in the world. Like his whole life isn’t about to change. 

It drives you nuts.

“Five minutes,” you tell him.

He nods.

Warily, you sit in the chair to his left, staring holes through your shoes as your heart races inside your chest. You’re not sure how you got here. Not sure where you could possibly go. You aren’t ready for a baby. Not…yet. Especially not one with…him.

“Hey,” he calls, pulling your attention up. “S’the matter with you?”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell do you think?”

Another casual shrug that makes your teeth grit. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” You lean back. “Why on Earth would I be happy about getting stuck with your DNA for the rest of my life?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just seem like the type of girl to want a lot of babies.”

You scoff. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am not.” You don’t think.

“Really? Is that why you begged me to breed you?”

“I didn’t actually mean it. That’s just what you say in a moment like that.”

His eyebrow raises.

You hesitate. “Did…did you mean it?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I mean, yeah, maybe I didn’t mean right this second, but…I don’t hate the idea.”

“You actually want to be a father?” You snort. “Bullshit. You hate kids. I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just don’t care about them when they aren’t mine.” He throws his arm over the back of the chair and smirks. “I like my nieces, though. They’re chill.”

You blink. “You…you have nieces? Wait, you have siblings?”

“Yeah. One brother. He’s got two kids and they’re cute as shit.”

“Oh.” Your head starts to pound. “See? We can’t have a baby when I don’t even know anything about you.”

He chuckles to himself before nodding his chin at you. “All right, fine. Go ahead. Ask me whatever.”

“What?”

“Ask me what you wanna know.”

You think. “Okay. How often do you see your family?”

“Often enough. They live in California, and they work a lot. But we call every couple of weeks.”

“Oh. That’s…surprisingly nice. Uh…do you have a history of disease in your family?”

He grins. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” You motion at him. “Answer.”

“This isn’t an interview—”

“Answer.”

“No,” he says. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Great. Do you plan to be a deadbeat father?”

His eyes roll. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“So, yes? You do? Oh, great—”

“No, because that’s not a fair fucking question—”

“It is a fair question. If I have to raise this baby alone, I want to know—”

“Of course you wouldn’t fucking be alone. Do you really think so little of me—”

“I don’t think about you at all. How am I supposed to know what you’ll do—”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he nearly snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself before adding, “Even if it wasn’t my baby, I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Your lashes flutter and you can feel your heart lodging in your throat. “Fine. Last question.”

He waits.

“Did you ever want kids…before? With…her?”

He doesn’t have to think for very long, but the mention of her makes him smile. “Nah. We talked about it, but we weren’t ready. We liked it being just us, you know? We had a bunch of shit we wanted to do. We were a long way from babies and a white picket fence.”

You try to blink back the tears swimming their way to your eye. You can still see that beautiful picture of her in his room. An entire future of love and life and adventures that he lost. Now…he’s stuck with you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You swipe your knuckle along your cheek. “So, you probably still aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Harry, come on. You aren’t ready for a baby. I’m not ready for a baby. We…we don’t know each other, we don’t like each other…we can’t do this. You know that.”

“Do I?” He leans forward. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. I think we can handle it.”

“Well, I don’t. You don’t even like me. You can’t have a baby with me.”

“Why not? People do it all the time.”

“But not us.” You give him a firm stare. “Harry, we love our jobs. We want careers, not kids. So having a baby kind of gets in the way of that. There’s…there’s diaper changes, and teething, and potty training—”

“So?”

“So. We don’t work together well. In fact, it’s a rather well-known fact that we don’t get along. We can’t possibly raise a kid. We’d ruin it.” You study him for a beat, unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you actually want this to be real?”

Another shrug and you nearly lunge at him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, resting his elbows on his knees while he glances at the floor. “I’m older now. Maybe it’s time to…think about settling down.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He laughs. “Look, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but…maybe it could be a good thing.”

You stand from your chair and pace the length of your small living room. “This is crazy. This is crazy. I can’t have a baby, I’m…I’m not ready. I’m too young, I…I don’t even know what I’d do with one. Or if I even have a maternal instinct.”

“Probably not,” Harry offers, smirking when you glare. “You won’t really know until you have one.”

“Oh, great.”

“Listen, if you feel like you aren’t ready…we can find another alternative,” he says, softening his voice. “Okay? There are plenty of other options and we’ll find one you feel comfortable with.”

A tad wary of his sympathetic answer, you eye him closely. “Yeah? And what if we disagree?”

“We won’t,” he says calmly. “Your body, your decision.”

“Right,” you snort. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t be the one having to carry it.” He nods as though to reassure you. “Honestly, Tink. This would be your decision, one hundred percent. It’s not mine to make. Just to support.”

The tears rush a little faster as you sniffle and step closer. “You say that now, but what if I decide something you don’t like?”

“I will like it. I promise,” he murmurs, standing up in order to move toward you. “If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, great.”

“I…I…” You suck in a deep breath, unable to slow the wild racing in your chest. “Fuck, I can’t…I don’t know—”

“Hey, okay, easy. Easy, Princess,” he says, quickly reaching out to take you in his arms and ease you against his chest. “Relax. Okay? Just breathe. Breathe for me.”

“I…I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can. You are.” His lips press to the top of your head while his hand runs up and down your back soothingly. “I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here. You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

You squeeze your arms together and hold on with everything you have. Right now, he feels like your only anchor in the world. The only person strong enough to carry you both through to the other side. And for the first time since you met him…you feel glad that he’s here.

The two of you stand in the middle of the room for a long while before he finally murmurs, “I think it’s been five minutes.”

Your eyes close and you grip his shirt in your first. “I’m…I’m not ready to look.”

“Okay.” You can hear the smile in his response. “Okay, we can wait.”

So, you do as the truth starts to build in your chest. Inescapable, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down.

Finally, you can’t help but whisper, “You know what scares me the most?”

“Hm?”

“…that maybe I’m hoping it’s real.”

The apartment falls silent again. He doesn’t push you to elaborate, but you can feel his heart beating just a little faster inside his chest.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I don’t…I really don’t think I’m ready, but…but what if I should be? What if…what if we met and we started this because…because we were supposed to do this?”

He considers this. “Like fate.”

“Yeah.” You roll your lips into your mouth. “Because I still hate you. I do. I just…I’m starting to get this picture in my head of us. Being a family. Having a big house in a good school district. Tucking them into bed at night and reading them stories. Which is…dumb.”

“No,” he mumbles. “No, it’s not dumb. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because I meant what I said, I’d love to get you pregnant. You’d look really fucking hot.”

You chuckle. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh…okay?”

He smirks. “I never had a breeding kink until I met you.”

You lean back and swat your hand across his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“What? I’m being serious.” He grins and those dimples pop free. God, you hope your kids have his dimples—

No. Nope. You aren’t going there.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. “Whatever. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.” His gentle gaze sweeps across your face. “If you wanna do this…we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll have this baby, and we’ll raise it to be really smart, and funny, and to not take shit from anybody.”

You laugh, brushing away a few more tears. “Maybe we can teach it to write code.”

“Oh, fucking obviously.”

The two of you smile before the excitement seems to fizzle and Harry’s brows pull together.

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I know that’s our thing, and I know you said it earlier, but…I don’t actually hate you. This baby wouldn’t grow up with two parents that don’t like each other.”

“Oh…I…I know.”

“Good. Because I don’t want that to be one of the reasons you think we can’t do it. I’d fucking love that baby. And I’d love you for carrying it.”

Instantly, you both seem to still. The four-letter word sounds so loud inside such a small room.

I’d love you.

He clears his throat, shifting a bit as he glances toward the kitchen. “I mean, I’d…I’d appreciate you for carrying it—”

“No, yeah, I know,” you stammer. “I know what you mean.”

“Good. Yeah.”

The two of you fall quiet again before you softly admit, “I think I’m ready to look.”

“Okay.” He squeezes your hip. “I’m right here.”

You take in a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of his arms. You already miss his warmth and the way he felt like home and your stomach turns as you slip into the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you reach for the stick that sits on the edge of your sink. And in those three seconds, an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes. 

The good, the bad, and the everything in-between. You see a house and a dog and a big backyard. You see two little kids rolling in the grass and jumping into the pool. You hear them begging for a bedtime story and crying when they scrape their knee.

You see a dozen birthdays and holidays and visits to the zoo. You see their heartbreaks and triumphs, their successes and letdowns. You see a million goodnight kisses and cuddles on the couch. 

And then…you see Harry.

In every picture, every moment. Taking them to their first baseball game and picking them up from their first dance. Sneaking them into R-rated movies even after you explicitly said no and feeding them far too much candy and popcorn.

You see him teach your son how to tie a tie and dance with your daughter as she stands on his feet. You see him cooking breakfast in the kitchen, flour all over his face. You see him curled up in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. You hear him tell you how happy he is. How glad that he found you.

It’s a beautiful life. Even if it’s not the one you imagined for yourself. And in that moment, you decide that it doesn’t matter what the test says. If that’s your future, so be it. 

As long as you get to live it with him.

“So?” Harry calls from the hall.

You swallow thickly and slowly glance down.

Negative.

Negative.

No baby. No pregnancy. No white-picket fence.

You stare at the test for at least a full minute. You aren’t sure how you feel. Relieved. Disappointed. Upset. Thankful. Confused.

“Tink?”

You turn around. “Uh…it’s negative,” you report, handing it to him. “False alarm. I guess I’m just late.”

He glances over the stick with a rather blank expression before looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. This is definitely the better outcome. I’m just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing it back. “I know.”

You throw the test away. “Sorry for making you come all the way over here for that.”

“Hey, whoa—” He strides into the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’d be here.”

“I just…I wasted your time. I should have taken it before I called you—”

“Tink,” he sighs, taking your cheeks in his hands. “Stop. You can always call me for shit like this.” He looks at you, then amends, “You can always me. For anything. You know that.”

A tear slips from your eye without warning, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. This is what I wanted—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. It’s hard.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup. “But this is good, right? This is better?”

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply stares at you with a rather sympathetic expression. Or maybe it’s forlorn. Maybe he’s disappointed. Upset that you aren’t giving him what he wants.

Then, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “This is good,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “We would have figured it out. And you would have been a wonderful mom. But I know you. And I know you aren’t ready. Not yet.”

You close your eyes and melt into the feel of his palms against your skin. Into the way he reassures you and protects you all in the same breath. You never thought you’d feel so safe in the serenity of his touch, but here you are. Wishing for him to hold you forever.

“And when we are ready, we’ll do it on our terms,” he says. “Okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “This is good,” you repeat to yourself. “It is. Really. Things are going great at work, I’m finally secure financially, and even you and I are…kind of getting along.”

He smirks.

“This is good. This is better.” You repeat the mantra until you really believe it. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been a very good pregnant woman anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’d be really cranky. Or needy. My ankles would get all swollen and I’d be hot all the time and nauseous and miserable. I’d probably try to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d definitely try to kill me. You try to kill me even when you aren’t pregnant.”

You gasp. “Rude.”

“What?” He chuckles again before his eyes slowly start to rake down your frame. “But I don’t know. I think it’ll be better than you think.”

You swat him again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to picture it.”

“Why? I told you, you’d look fucking hot.”

“Yeah…no.”

However, he only nods, moving in to subtly brush his lips against yours. “You would. Be so fucking beautiful carrying our baby. With your tits all swollen and your belly getting bigger every day.”

Truthfully, the image almost makes you grimace, but there’s something about the way he says it. The way he talks about you so reverently. A soft, sultry murmur that goes straight to your cunt. Because you know he’s not just saying it to say it. He means it. Believes it. Would do anything for it.

He tilts your head back, thumb brushing along your jaw. “And I think you like it,” he exhales. “I think you like the idea of holding me inside you. Having a part of me. Knowing that I did it to you. No one else.”

You suck in a soft breath, knees going just a bit weak. “Harry…”

“What, baby?” His mouth ghosts along your neck. “Are you thinking about it? Thinking about how pretty your tummy would look with me inside it?”

He’s evil. Absolutely evil, and you clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain control of yourself. “Do you…have a pregnancy kink I don’t know about?” 

His lips quirk up. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” Your lashes flutter and the urge to kiss him grows stronger. “You know…some women get really horny when they’re pregnant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no?”

You shake your head. “I mean, do you really think you could keep up? Going for hours and hours on end? Trying to keep me satiated with your poor, limp little dick?”

He makes another noise, and you tsk.

“I mean, you can barely satisfy me now as it is. But if I was pregnant? Pfft. Forget it.”

Instantly, he’s snatching hold of your hips and yanking you against his chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Princess,” he nearly growls. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” you retort. “You’ve gone soft on me. Rubbing my back, kissing my hair. You wanna take care of me and honestly? It’s a little pathetic.”

His head cocks rather deviously and your pulse begins to skip. He could split you in half if he wanted to and you both know it. 

But that’s what you need right now. You don’t want to be coddled or looked after. You wanna be fucked. Tortured and teased until you’re begging for release.

You want an escape.

And in that moment, Harry decides to give you one.

He picks you up and carries you out of the bathroom while your legs quickly work to hook to his hips for stability and your arms snake around his neck.

He ignores your squeals and teasing huffs of annoyance, instead dropping you onto your mattress with a soft thud.

You glare and push up onto your elbows. “You know, you don’t have to manhandle me—”

“Shut up.”

He surges forward, lips gliding against yours as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. And kissing is easy with him. As easy breathing, like you’ve done it all your life. You know exactly what he likes, what he wants. And you give it him.

His glasses are cold against your face, keeping him from getting as close as he’d like, and after a moment, he huffs, and rips them off before tossing them aside. And even though you adore when he wears them, you happen to adore being near him even more.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging on his curls, scratching down his neck. He has the added advantage of being on top, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from turning to putty in your hands. Clay for you to mold to your liking. 

No matter how dominant he tries to be, he’s simply a man that needs to be told what to do. Taken care of. Shown. 

And you happen to like showing him.

You feel him tug on the hem of your shirt. “Off,” he breathes between carnal nips to your throat. “I want this off, Tink.”

Happy to oblige, you push him back so you can lift yourself up before you peel the fabric from your chest. You take your time with the bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms oh so slowly. You don’t rush to reveal yourself to him, instead letting him anticipate you. Until his heart is racing and his eyes are darkening and he’s resisting the urge to do it himself.

But once he can finally see you, he nearly groans. “Oh, good fucking girl.” 

He resumes his work. More kisses are left to the warm, tender skin, and he happily sucks bruises into each swell and curve of your breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue. His hands are greedy—ravenous. Pulling at your flesh, clawing his way along your frame. 

When he reaches your thighs, you whimper. You’ve missed the way he touches you. The way he pries your legs apart and makes a home between.

In a rush, he snaps your panties off into his fist and you toss him a punishing glare.

He smiles.

You rid each other of your remaining clothes in a frantic fashion until they’re nothing more than a dirty pile on the floor. Messy and familiar. Fated.

He drops down onto the bed back first, effortlessly swapping positions as you’re placed in a straddle over his waist.

“Good girl, let me see you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You reach down and take his hardening cock in your hand, running it along your cunt before teasing yourself with the tip. 

“Didn’t stretch you,” he mumbles, leaving a few stray kisses to your collarbone. “S’might hurt, so—”

You push him in, simultaneously sinking down in an effort to feel a more prominent burn., and you both make a rather lewd noise as the grip on your chin tightens.

“Tink,” he hisses with a punishing look of his own. “Careful—”

You drop yourself further, muscles tensing around the thickness until your thighs begin to shake.

“Hey—” He forces your eyes on his. “Enough. Be gentle, m’not gonna hurt you—”

“I want you to,” you pant. “Please. I need it. I…fuck, Har, I need it. Please…please.”

He’s still frowning but his expression softens. “Baby…not like this. Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better—"

“No,” you whimper. Desperate. Fraught. “Harry, please, don’t stop. Don’t make me stop—”

“Hey, easy, easy.” He pulls your forehead to his. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You try to obey. Try to suck in a strangled gasp of air but it’s useless. He’s gonna take himself from you. He’s gonna leave, and you’ll be empty, and alone, and maybe he won’t ever touch you again—

He places his palm on your chest, right over your heart. “Breathe,” he says again. Soft. Quiet. “In then out. Good girl, just like that.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Mimic his inhales and exhales until the two of you fall into a synchronized rhythm. 

“Good,” he says again, rubbing his other hand along your back. “There you go. You’re all right, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Weakly, you nod. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I—”

“Shh.” He kisses your nose. “You’re okay, Tink. I know.”

A long moment passes before you finally feel in control of your own heart again and once you blink the fog from your eye, you see him. Delicate and strong at the same time.

He sweeps his thumb along your lip. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “Really, I just…I needed to feel you. And I wanted to…move on, I guess. Think about something else. Lose myself for a bit.”

He sighs but nods his understanding. “You could have told me that.”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to sharing things with you.”

“I know,” he echoes with a small grin. “But we’ll learn, yeah?”

Your gaze grows suspicious. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” he says simply. “If we’re gonna make a bunch of hot, smart babies one day, we’re gonna have to communicate.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while.”

“Fine. Just gives us more time to practice.”

Your eyes narrow. “You really have gone soft on me, haven’t you? All because you thought I was pregnant."

He laughs, fingers slipping around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. “I’d argue I’m actually quite hard right now.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I can hate you and like you at the same time, right?” he teases. “Because I think that’s my sweet spot. Wanting to kill you and fuck you all at once.”

“Agreed. You’re insufferable but you’re also one of my favorite people. Which only makes you more insufferable.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think we earned a little civility, no?”

You nod and take his lip between your teeth. “And I think we should celebrate with an orgasm.”

He laughs again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

You dance your kisses down his chest, enjoying the way his head drops back while he sighs at the feel of your tongue. He’s so beautiful and so good and if you’re going to lose yourself, you want to lose yourself in him.

Leaning back, brace your hands behind you on his knees, and start to bounce yourself on his cock. Over and over, faster and faster, until he’s grabbing onto your hips and giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze to help you along.

Your tits bounce right in his face, and he takes advantage of his front row seat, allowing his hands to trace and tease your nipples as you whine. He sucks them into his mouth and pulls them with his teeth. It sends chills along your spine and goosebumps along your arms and when he notices, he smirks.

 Not even a minute later, he’s pulling you down so your chest meets his. His hands land on your ass with a firm grip and he drags you along his cock. Slow and sensual until your eyes flutter shut, and you disappear into the building pleasure.

You feel his kisses on your ribcage as he begins to thrust up into you. Returning to the pace you previously set until you’re both chasing that familiar high. 

“There you go,” he praises through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that—”

“Harry,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shit, please—”

“I know.” He leaves another kiss to the inside of your arm before he smacks your left ass cheek. “I got you, Princess. S’okay. Keep going.”

You grind yourself over his lap, knees hugging his waist as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Needy. Anxious. You match each other’s rhythm and it’s a dance. An effortless fluidity that brings you closer than ever before.

Then, he sucks two fingers into your mouth, and moves them between your cheeks. He grazes them over your tighter hole, gently teasing them over the other entrance before dropping them down to where his cock is fucking into your cunt. He plays with you a bit, pushing you just a bit closer while you wail—depraved—and beg for more.

“My good girl,” he praises. He spanks you again. “Fuck—that’s it, baby.”

Your staccato whimpers are consistent now. One for every thrust and you can almost taste his desperation as he turns his head in order to kiss your cheek. The sound of skin against skin is crude and delicious. The way your body slides against his. Like butter on a hot day, melting together.

He goes faster, pulls you harder. Fingers digging into your skin so hard it almost hurts. But in the best possible way. In turn, you brace yourself with a palm on his throat. Squeezing it tight as you start to get closer. 

“Yeah,” he groans. “Shit…harder—”

You obey, pinching the sides of his neck until his eyes roll back. 

You can feel his heart racing against yours. You’re both warm. Hot. Shaking. A tangled mess of limps and depraved grinding like animals in heat.

“M’almost…m’almost there,” you whisper.

He nods, looking down your body to watch the way your ass bounces in his hands. “Go. S’okay, go. Let me feel you.”

He leaves more kisses to your side and the tender way his lips feel against your skin makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You grip his throat a bit tighter and just like that…it’s over.

The two of you cum together, the room filling with moans and gasps and promises. He settles beneath you while you ride out the rest of your high but he makes sure to keep his arm around you through every second.

Once you finally catch your breath, he hums. “God-fucking-damn.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He turns to see you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

You roll your eyes with a swat to his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you still like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I’m your favorite person.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“Right.” He helps you ease him out before he’s flipping you around and moving himself between your legs.   

You blink. “What the hell are you doing?”

He lifts two fingers and eases them along your swollen pussy. Collecting the white, sticky substance already leaking out before easily pushing it back in.

“Harry,” you scold. “I think we’ve had enough breeding for one day.”

He smirks. “Relax, Tink, m’not breeding you. I just…like to see it drip out.”

Your heart leaps. “…oh.”

“Yeah.” He rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh in order to watch. “S’always so fucking pretty.”

You reach down and card your fingers through his sweaty curls. Happy and content for the first time in days.

He looks up. “One day,” he promises, even though it sounds more like a question.

But somehow, in this moment, it makes everything else worth it.

You grin.

“One day.”

AAA I can’t believe we finally did it!! I’m not gonna lie them being soft with each other is gross 😭 BUT ALSO CUTE!! YAY PROGRESS!!

Thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice!! 🥹💞💞 and of course thank you for the amazing idea hehe

Also, if you see any mistakes……no you don’t 🫶

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[issues4him]

13 year old me happily ignoring the ‘18+’ and ‘MDNI’ on all my favorite smuts