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mti-myticketstoindia · 3 years

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Best Time To Visit India By Season

Incredible beyond measure. Visiting India is no less than a thrilling experience. The country is wrapped in the arms of the Great Himalayas, the Indian Ocean, and the Arabian Sea, offering an array of endless tourism choices. From the vibrant old culture to the modernity aura in the air, your flights to India will take you to land best known for its cultural diversity. Also known as Hindustan, India has the maximum number of festivals celebrated which makes it a popular tourist destination all around the year. Today, we will look through different seasons (Summer, Monsoon, and Winters) to find the best time to visit India and know what the weather is like in India.

India In Summer Season (March - June)

March is the best weather in India to stroll around. Slowly and steadily, days become longer and nights become shorter. March remains warm and pleasant while April, May and June are mostly hot in India, and are considered dry months in India. An average temperature varies from 25 degrees C to 45 C. Top 5 Places To Visit In Summers In India

1. Andaman & Nicobar Islands One of the most popular tourist destinations in India, Andaman is surrounded by shimmering turquoise waters, dazzling coral reefs, mangroves and sun-toasted beaches. With around 20 beaches and 38 inhabited islands, you will never run out of things to do in Andaman & Nicobar Islands. Some of the famous places to visit are Radhanagar Beach, Neil Island, Port Blair, Cellular Jail, and Mahatama Gandhi Marine National Park.

Packing Essentials: Sunscreen, light cotton clothing, hand-sanitiser, flip-flops, sunglasses, summer hats or caps, water bottles, and mosquito repellent cream.

2. Gangtok

The capital of Sikkim, Gangtok is bounded by serene views and extremely magnificent mountains and lakes. From naturally ethereal locations to man-made attractions, the beauty of Gangtok will make you feel most alive. Whether you want to experience bone-chilling winds at Nathula Pass or wish to enjoy the panoramic view of Tsomgo Lake, Sikkim’s capital city is worth a visit. You can even stop by Rumtek Monastery, MG Road, and Ganesh Tok.

Packing Essentials: Walking shoes, warm jackets, sweaters, cosy scarfs or mufflers, tracksuit, mosquito repellent cream, hand sanitiser, and Aspirin

3. Leh - Ladakh

If you are planning to discover the charm of the real Himalayas, a trip to Leh-Ladakh arranged by a reliable travel agency is what you need. From mysterious and thrilling views to glittering deep blue water lakes, this incredible place offers serenity at its best. When in Ladakh, stop by the wondrous Pangong Lake, drive through the Magnetic hill, and feel spirituality at Thiksey Monastery. Other popular attractions to visit in Ladakh are Royal Leh Palace, Indus River, Tso Moriri, and Spituk Monastery.

Packing Essentials: Cotton tees, waterproof jackets, light woollen, sunscreen, sunglasses, gloves, govt. Id cards, extra pair of jeans, strong pair of shoes, and comfy trousers. 4. Darjeeling

Famous as “Queen Of Hills”, Darjeeling is one of the breathtaking hill stations in India with exquisite beauty and landmarks. Surrounded by emerald-green tea fields and towered by lush mountains, this city is West Bengal’s majestic tourist spot. To explore the beauty and colours of Darjeeling, you must visit Tiger Hill, Kanchenjunga Mountain, Mahakal Temple, and Batasia Loop. You can even spot red pandas and snow leopards at the Padmaja Naidu Zoological Park.

Packing Essentials: The lowest Darjeeling temperature in June is 18 degrees C. It is best to pack light woollens, comfortable trousers, windcheater jackets, pair of tees, walking shoes, mosquito repellent, and sunscreen.

5. Mussoorie

One of the popular hill stations of Uttarakhand, Mussoorie is a place full of lush mountains, mesmerizing waterfalls, and beautiful roads. The enchanting landscapes and thrilling weather can change your mood in no time. Sip through your coffee as you take a stroll through the hills with clouds walking by your side. Also, do not forget to stop by Kempty Falls, Lal Tibba which is Mussoorie’s highest peak, Happy Valley, Camel’s Back Road, and Gun Hill Point.

Packing Essentials: Cotton T-shirts, light sweatshirts, extra pair of jeans, umbrella, waterproof jacket, trekking shoes, raincoat, light woollen scarf or muffler. India In Monsoon Season (July - September)

The monsoon wind begins in July from South India and spreads to other parts of the country. Many states receive heavy rains in the rainy season. The climatic condition after rain showers leaves a pleasant scent in the air. The maximum temperature during monsoon time ranges from 22 degrees C to 36 degrees C. Top 5 Places To Visit In Monsoon In India

1. Coorg, Karnataka

Also known as the “Scotland Of India”, Coorg lives up to its name with a luring amalgamation of history, luxury, and adventure. The place is surrounded by lush green wilderness and the glory of nature is surely going to engulf you. Coorg has a lot of fun things to do that will fill your heart with immense happiness. Some of the top tourist attractions of Coorg include Abbey Falls, Chiklihole Reservoir, Dubare Elephant Camp, Harangi Dam, and Honnamana Kere Lake.

Packing Essentials: Pack light with comfortable clothing, walking shoes, track pants, mosquito repellant, sunscreen, and umbrella.

2. Munnar, Kerala

Raindrops, roses and breathtaking vistas, Munnar is a beautiful destination that must be visited once in a lifetime. Some call it “Paradise On Earth” while some call it “Kashmir Of South India”, Munnar is surely fueled by the power of the heavens. So, do not take life too seriously and head over to Mattupetty Dam to click hundreds of pictures, Pothamedu View Point to see the sights of blissful tea plantations, jaw-dropping Attukad waterfalls, and Eravikulam National Park.

Packing Essentials: Light Cotton clothing, Comfortable trousers or jeans, insect repellant, good grip shoes or footwear, sunscreen, umbrella, and hand sanitiser.

3. Mumbai Want to explore Mumbai and its madness? Known by the name of “City of Dreams”, Mumbai is a vibrant and lively city that never fails to surprise. Thousands of people land in Mumbai every year to explore and fulfil their dreams. And, visiting Mumbai in the monsoon is one of the blissful experiences that will make your trip to Mumbai special for life. Some of the important tourist landmarks that you must visit are Marine Drive, Karnala Bird Sanctuary, Bollywood Film City, and Chowpatty.

Packing Essentials: Flip Flops or high-grip sandals, umbrella, raincoat, cotton tees, trousers or a pair of capris, hand tissue, sunscreen, hairdryer, and waterproof backpack. 4. Alleppey, Kerala

Known as Alappuzha in Malayalam, Alleppey is all about blooming nature and backwaters. A slice of heaven wedged between the beautiful canals, sensuous beaches, and lagoons, that’s Alleppey for you. The city is also famous for its vibrant culture and Ayurvedic treatments. Visiting Alleppey is a breathtaking experience. Some important things you can do in this divine city are, watching the sunset at Alappuzha Beach, explore coconut farmlands at Kuttanad, and spend a day on Alleppey houseboats.

Packing Essentials: Monsoon Cotton t-shirts, knee-length capris or shorts, sunscreen, sunglasses, summer hats, water bottle, flip flops, comfy walking shoes, spacious backpack.

5. Chandigarh

Visiting Chandigarh in the monsoon season is as pleasant as the day of a cattle in the field. Chandigarh is a city where greenery smiles at you. From shopping around in Sector 17 market to walking along the Sukhna Lake, the lush green beauty of this “City Beautiful” is something that shouldn’t be missed. The city is a mixture of modernist architecture, thick greenery, and intellectual people. When in Chandigarh, do not miss stopping by Rock Garden, Elante Mall, and Gurdwara Nadha Sahib. Packing Essentials: Boho dresses, cotton t-shirts, capris, shorts, jeans, flip flops, rubber sandals, water bottle, hand sanitiser, sunscreen, moisturizer, umbrella.

India In Winter Season (October - February)

Winters in India are all about foggy days and chilly nights and is the best time to travel to India. However, the India climate in October and November remains enjoyable and pleasing while January and February are quite crisp. The early mornings in winters remain pretty cool with the lowest temperature near to 5 degrees C in some states.

Top 5 Places To Visit In Winters In India

1. Goa

Goa is one of the trendiest tourist destinations at the moment. From clear turquoise beaches to serene views and cheap booze to seafood, Goa has unmatchable energy that is found nowhere. Goa is a place filled with elegance and tranquillity. As the early morning sun lights up the city in golden yellow and clean waters leave a subtle scent in the air. Famous landmarks that you shouldn’t miss in Goa are Chapora Fort, Dudhsagar Waterfall, Baga Beach, Colva Beach, and Anjuna Beach.

Packing Essentials: Summer dresses, shorts, flip flops, sunscreen, mosquito repellent, water bottle, cotton tees, hand sanitiser, summer hat or cap.

2. Tiruchirappalli, Tamil Nadu

Incredible and magnificent, Tiruchirappalli is amongst India’s most beautiful cities. It is most popular for its sacred temples, glorious hills, serene picnic spots, and heavenly waterfalls. Tiruchirappalli is one of the perfect places to visit in South India in January. This place is relished best on a winter afternoon. The city is surrounded by some striking landmarks including Sri Ranganathaswamy Temple, Erumbeeswarar Temple, Kallanai Dam, and Pachamalai Hills.

Packing Essentials: Tops and comfortable bottoms, walking shoes, dresses, first aid kit, personal prescriptions, SPF 50 or more sunscreen, and sunglasses.

3. Jaipur

Want to watch the sun go down from the top of the fort? Jaipur is a perfect place to feel royalty and catch the sights of blooming gardens, fountains, lakes, palaces, and imperial forts. Pleasant sunlight and cool winds during the winters will make your trip noteworthy and for life. When in Jaipur, do not miss out on the yummy Dal Bhati Churma, and pure ghee made Ghevar. Some must-visit places in Jaipur are Jal Mahal, Jantar Mantar, Hawa Mahal, City Palace, and Amber Palace.

Packing Essentials: Light woollens, jackets, sweatshirts, track pants, walking shoes, water bottle, hand sanitiser, sunglasses, light woollen caps or scarfs.

4. Kolkata

Charming, friendly and classical, travelling to Kolkata is all about mouthwatering food, colonial architecture, and cultural aura. The Howrah bridge is a remarkable milestone of Kolkata. It becomes a major tourist spot at night when the lights fall on the beautiful bridge, making its appearance opulent. Also, tourists love to take a ferry ride from the launch ghat. Other popular landmarks in Kolkata are Fort William, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Belur Math, and Indian Museum.

Packing Essentials: Pack light woollens, warm inners, sweaters, sweatshirts, track pants, jackets, comfortable walking shoes, light warm scarf or cap. 5. Srinagar

Srinagar in winters is all about snow-filled mountains and crisp weather. The largest city of Jammu and Kashmir, Srinagar welcomes tourists from all around the world to experience unbeatable vibes. Magical and dazzling, this city is also known as the winter wonderland of India. Hop on a Shikara boat and float over the Dal lake while sipping on delicious Kawah. Also, do not forget to visit Shalimar Bagh, Wular Lake, Baramulla, Chashme Shahi, and Nishat Bagh.

Packing Essentials: Pack heavy woollens including cardigans, warm and waterproof jackets, long coats, mufflers, long boots, warm trousers, mufflers and gloves.

Conclusion

Break the norms now as India is one of the perfect countries to chase adventures, insane views, and make fond memories. MyticketstoIndia is the ultimate platform that helps travellers booking flight tickets and making the right travel decision. India has beautiful weather all year round. The beauty of ancient temples, aesthetic landmarks, and the serenity of nature will definitely take your heart away.

#Tourist places #best places to visit in india #travel and tourism #Places To Visit In Winters In India #Top 5 Places To Visit In Summers In India #Places To Visit In monsoon In India

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 6 years

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National Boss Day [h.s.]

- part II -

here’s part I if you missed it!

word count: 10k yeet

content/warnings: fluff, bit of smut, & angst shishters

“‘Art is the one factor of decorating that clicks for me— it’s simple yet it has such an impact on the atmosphere. Every piece is unique, and they all come together to tell the story of the person who owns them. Y’know what I mean?’

Y/N nods her head numbly, shocked into an awed silence by the depth and analysis of Harry’s comment. She barely knows anything about art, unless picking out paintings in the IKEA clearance section counts. And to hear him talk with such an open heart and honest mind about himself and his interests is admirably engrossing because, yes, he lets loose when they’re out of the office and around friends, but very solemnly had she seen him like this. She never knew that there was this much more there, under the guy who put chopsticks beneath his upper lip to look like a walrus, and California Rolls up to his eyes to mimic the Sushi Serpent (otherwise known as a mythical creature he claims lives in the Himalayas with Big Foot and feeds only on white sticky rice).

She never knew just how old of a soul he could be— in a good way, obviously.

or Y/N learns that garlic bread is deadly, lips taste best after coffee cake, psychosexual analysis is her strong-suit, and comfortable silence is so overrated.

///

Harry’s house was just as Y/N pictured it (not that she fantasized about his house often or anything), down to the baby cactus in the finger-painted ceramic flower pot, snuggled next to a framed picture of a messy-haired Harry in a light blue Hawaiian shirt, smirking at the camera while carrying a baby girl in his tattooed arms.

“My goddaughter,” he explains as he shuts the front door behind her, Nike-socked feet padding across the dark wooden floor to where she is currently standing, smiling fondly at the image as she toes off her worn sneakers and draws her black windbreaker tighter over her Captain America t-shirt.

Harry looks so different outside of the office— so different from the intimidating man he has to portray in order to be taken seriously in his field. He’s clad in a pair of neon blue running shorts and a slightly oversized Greenbay Packers sweatshirt, his hair in messy, fluffy tuffs and just a tad bit damp at the ends, giving away that he’d gotten out of the shower not too long ago. He’s freshly shaven and smells of his signature cologne, mixed with the scent of musky aftershave and refreshing deodorant. He looks soft and cozy and cuddly, much to Y/N’s demise, and she wishes she could allow herself the luxury of running her hands through his curly locks and feel him give into her touch.

Sure, she’s seen him unwind before outside the office, but this closer glimpse at Harry’s life is so rare it feels so intimate to be allowed to see it. To see him completely unguarded, with his ungroomed curls, relaxed posture, and big hands tucked lazily into the front pocket of his jumper; he looks like any other regular twenty-four year old boy would. Nothing like a millionaire business-owner with the weight of the world sitting on his broad shoulders.

“She’s two,” Harry continues, breaking Y/N from her train of thought, “and her name’s Ruby. Sweetest little girl you’ll ever meet. Loves to chew on fingers, though, so if you ever do meet her, you ought to keep those hidden.”

She giggles softly as he smiles fondly at the snapshot, turning slowly to face her and jerking his head sideways in the direction of what she guesses is the kitchen. “Cake won’t eat itself. C’mon.”

Harry gives Y/N a mini tour of his huge pent house in the few seconds it takes them to reach the elegant kitchen. He presents the living room as it is set beside the kitchen, and then points in the direction of where a corridor leads off, explaining that it descends to his room as well as the guest bedrooms. The color scheme of the home is centered towards dark colors, the theme being modern and posh. It can clearly be seen in the decor what with the plush, burgundy-colored sofas that look square and compact and ever so luxurious, arranged over a Persian rug of sorts that she can tell was probably woven by hand, the gold and bronze threads glimmering under the dim ceiling lights.

The architecture of the home displays it as well, with its glass-based design and sleek dark brown and ashy grey accents washed across the walls, not to mention the creamy beige carpet that gives off to polished, red oak floors. At certain points, she even sees what appears to be bamboo built into the ceiling and across a few surfaces, tying the entire place together with an air of exotic beauty that is somehow still easily chic.

The whole space is crisp, clean, and neat, the darkness created by the faint, warm lighting complimenting the deeper tones and shades all around the apartment. Funny enough, Y/N finds that the condo really reflects Harry as person— it’s reserved and quiet and peaceful, yet impecable and seemingly perfect down to the last window pane, with a bit of a haunting aura that just draws you in.

It’s overwhelmingly refreshing, in a sense.

Y/N is taking everything in when her eye catches on a certain piece of decor that she finds rather enticing. It appears to be a lamp of sorts, its lights made out of different sized rings that are stacked upon one another and spaced at intervals, the outer rims of the unusual bulbs painted midnight blue. It hangs from the ceiling, dangling a few inches off the floor at its full height.

“Dope lamp.” She comments, and then mentally facepalms. How could she allow herself to sound so simple-minded and childish while in the presence of such expensive and high-class surroundings? She feels like she should curtesy to the fireplace as an apology. Harry, however, doesn’t seem to mind her wit. He actually loves the way Y/N is, with her modern lingo and her juvenile personality— it’s just like the first breath of spring. He is so used to being around older people and having to act incredibly mature and impeccably faultless that her easy-going, young persona is more than perfect to him. He gives the accessory a glimpse, smiling warmly and the gesture is directed more towards an unaware Y/N than the actual object. “Thanks. My sister designed it. Actually, she designed and furnished my entire apartment. She’s really into all that decor stuff and I can’t be bothered with it, so I just picked my place and let her take care of everything else. The only thing I had a say in was the art on the walls. Personally went and toured different exhibits and met tons of artists to make my collection ‘cause I feel it’s the one thing I can do no wrong with.” He gives a signifying glance at all the paintings that trail across the walls of his home, his lips quirking with the ghost of a proud smile and she thinks he looks pretty when his eyes twinkle like that. “Art is the one factor of decorating that clicks for me— it’s simple yet it has such an impact on the atmosphere. Every piece is unique, and they all come together to tell the story of the person who owns them. Y’know what I mean?” Y/N nods her head numbly, shocked into an awed silence by the depth and analysis of Harry’s comment. She barely knows anything about art, unless picking out paintings in the IKEA clearance section counts. And to hear him talk with such an open heart and honest mind about himself and his interests is admirably engrossing because, yes, he lets loose when they’re out of the office and around friends, but very solemnly had she seen him like this. She never knew that there was this much more there, under the guy who put chopsticks beneath his upper lip to look like a walrus and California Rolls up to his eyes to mimic the Sushi Serpent (otherwise known as a mythical creature he claims lives in the Himalayas with Big Foot and feeds only on white sticky rice). She never knew just how old of a soul he could be— in a good way, obviously. Y/N continues to trail behind him, their footsteps going from muffled thumps on the carpet to soft padding against the hard wood floor as they enter the kitchen area. She is just now noticing how long the wall of the living room is, fascinated by how it is made entirely out of glass, looking out across the city skyline where the lights of the busy streets and skyscrapers twinkle invitingly. “I’ve always loved the city.” Harry pipes up when he catches her staring, sighing wistfully as he walks around the marble kitchen island, lifting the glass dome off of the cake-serving dish, the tangy smell of coffee and buttercream frosting tinting the air. “Living close to London does that to you.” “Yeah, I bet,” Y/N mumbles quietly, gifting him a small smile as he spins the cake dish around dramatically, sweeping a hand grandly before the dessert to emphasize its greatness. “Are you ready to taste a coffee cake that could put Gordon Ramsey to shame?” He’s acquired a cake-cutter and is already serving her a slice onto a plate that aesthetically contrasts the marble counter’s pattern, sliding it across the expanse of the table and pointing out a cabinet behind her. “Silverware is right in there.”

Soon enough, they are both sitting on top of the cold tabletop, Y/N on the island and Harry across from her on the counter besides the stove, swaying his legs ever-so-slightly as he licks at the frosting on his fork. “...and so then I told Niall that there was no way he could possibly fit all eight garlic bread rolls in his mouth without, y’know, breaking his jaw, and since he’s a knobhead, he proceeded to try and prove me wrong.” Harry is telling a story about a party at a restaurant that he and Niall had attended for one of the company’s older board members, who had been turning 81, and both of them had been bored out of their minds during the whole thing. They’d entertained themselves during the toast by hiding behind everyone else and daring each other to shove as many garlic rolls in their mouths as they could. Niall had won a gruesomely disgusting victory full of lots of drool and gagging, but he got bragging rights and Harry agreed to pay for his dinner so all went well in the end. He has Y/N a laughing mess, telling about how he almost threw up in the process when it had been his turn to cram the bread in his mouth, saying that since that day, every time he smelled something “remotely garlicky,” his stomach would lurch in a ghost warning. “Yeah, it was horrible. I can’t even smell Alfredo anymore or I risk presenting some of my very own homemade pasta sauce.” Harry loves the way Y/N’s eyes crinkle when she laughs too hard and how she clutches her stomach lightly as if she were about to burst open, her bubbly giggles being extremely contagious. He comes to the conclusion that he could sit here forever and watch her smile, his gaze softening with fondness as she wipes tears from the inner corners of her eyes while scrunching her nose and pinching her nostrils.

“When I laugh too hard, I tend to start sneezing.” She explains, sniffling lightly and sighing with content. “It’s an issue.” Harry scoffs softly in amusement, setting his palms against the dark-stoned counter and hopping off with ease. He sets his plate in the sink, coming back over to Y/N to pick her’s up as well. “What is it?” She inquires with a playful tone as she notices he still has that entertained smirk across his dimpled cheeks. He shakes his head lightly, pursing his lips to try and rid of the endeared grin but he just can’t. He can never seem to shake anything when it comes to her. “S’nothing.” “Oh, hop off it!” Y/N huffs, reaching over and slowly shoving him with a loose fist. “C’mon, spill.” “It’s just...” He’s fiddling with the fork on her empty plate, turning and shifting it around, the light clinking of the metal against the porcelain filling the pause in his thought. “You’re just cute, s’all.” Y/N blinks once in surprise. This is the first time he’s made any sort of comment like this since the incident. “Oh...” Her voice is tight with a slight squeak at the end. “Uh, t-thanks...” Harry glances up at her from the frosted surface of the platter in his huge hands, jade irises glimmering below his thick lashes with a timid yet confident air. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Her toes instinctively curl inside her kitty-printed socks at the pet name, the way he says it making a dull throb swell at the pit of her tummy. His voice was low and almost predatory as he let the word slip past his lips, licking the corner of his mouth slyly as he turned slowly to head back towards the dishwasher. When their locked eyes finally break is when Y/N can breathe again. It’s like he had a warm fist wrapped securely around her throat, forcing the air to stay in her lungs and fill her entire body with an anxious jittering. He’s so magnetic and enthralling, it’s almost like he’s not human. Harry’s voice rips her from her mind. She snaps her wild gaze up at him as he chances a glance behind his shoulder, scrubbing the buttercream from a plate with a rainbow sponge. “Be careful coming off the counter, love. It’s higher up than y’think and socks are slippery.” Y/N’s eyes roll at him jokingly as he sets the dishes in a drying rack, toweling his hands with a Plates Against Humanity dish cloth. “I think I can handle myself.” It turns out that she actually can’t handle herself. The island top was indeed higher than she had anticipated. Y/N jumps off, palms pressed against the surface as reinforcement, her body falling between her elbows and she thought her feet would hit the floor by the time her hips leveled with the counter. But she was wrong and her body keeps falling— falling to the point where her armpits are what is level with the surface so that her arms bend out of proportion, causing a small yawp of shock to string her vocal chords as pain erupts along the tendons of her shoulders, feet eventually hitting the ground but sliding out from under her due to the tiled floor not being compatible with the socks she is wearing. Harry lunges forward, strong arms wrapping around Y/N’s waist and higher torso as her flimsy arms give out beneath her weight. If he hadn’t been there, she would’ve hit her head against the edge of the tabletop. He hikes Y/N up and props her against the island, where she leans backwards, catching her breath from the scare. Her legs feel like Jello, knees quaking as unharnessed adrenalin pumps heavy through her veins. Y/N’s chest heaves with shaky inhales, the feeling of her feet slipping out from under her haunting her conscious. One of her hands presses over her chest, heart threatening to break through her ribcage. Harry keeps his lean arms snaked around Y/N’s hips, he himself slightly winded do to the sudden call for action. He shoves his fringe off his forehead, giving her a smug side-grin and a jolt of his thick brows. “What was that you said about being able to handle yourself?” She releases a quivering, borderline hysterical laugh, still somewhat unhinged. “I miscalculated.” “It appears so,” he himself lets out a heap of chuckles as she tries to regain her footing, only to have her feet slip yet again. Y/N jerks her head up to meet his eyes as they glow with triumphant coyness, forming a witty remark in the back of her brain in the process. However, her comment is extinguished when her nose suddenly bumps with his as she lifts her gaze and she hadn’t realized how close Harry was until now. He is cradling her waist as her arms are slung loosely over his broad shoulders, palms flat against the muscles of his back as they flex under the soft cotton of his jumper, tight with the effort of holding her up. One of Y/N’s legs had perched between both of his when her feet had scrambled in the heat of the fall, knee being locked between both of his thick thighs and they feel so warm and soft under the sheer material of his mesh running shorts. Y/N had failed to notice how intimate this moment had grown in such a short amount of time. Harry’s canopy-green irises glitter at her with a certain familiar intensity from a while back. His tongue peeks out to absentmindedly lick across his suddenly dry lips and she can hear his breathing hitching in the back of his throat. His face drifts closer, the tip of his cold nose rubbing over her’s as his head cocks to the side a bit, eyes flickering back and forth between her owlish own and her mouth. His warm exhales wash across the young woman’s pulsing lips as he slowly pushes her further back against the counter, the lower half of her back bending slightly over the cold border. “H-Harry—” Y/N’s voice comes out high and weak, cut off by his as it fills with needy vehemence. “I’m gonna kiss you.” His words are a deep rumble in his strong chest, barely a murmur but a powerful one nonetheless. His brows furrow heavily and his Adam’s Apple bobs with a thick gulp, cherry-stained lips parting slightly in wariness. “I don’t think that’s a good—” She is forced to swallow her thought as Harry’s warm mouth collides with her’s, hot lips encompassing her quivering own as he grips her hips a tad more roughly, pushing forward as she yelps in surprise. His nose is smudging over Y/N’s as he deepens the kiss, tongue hesitantly wandering into his friend’s mouth and licking across her top lip. His hands scramble up to cup her face, warm palms cradling her jaw and holding her in place as he drags his textured tongue over her’s and glues a needy whimper to the roof of her mouth. The kiss is incredible— it’s everything Y/N had dreamed of and more. He’s dominant but in his own sheepish way— not too rough but not too soft— taking her into his embrace and she melts at the way his body wraps itself around her’s, eyes lulling to the back of her head. One thigh presses between Y/N’s legs as the other straddles one of her hips, his strong hands keeping her placed as he invades her mouth with a want so deep and carnal, she just about dissolves into a puddle right there in his strong arms. Harry gnaws at her bottom lip, gasping lightly when nails dig into the backs of his hard shoulders, whining into her mouth. “God, Y/N, been wanting this for too fucking long.” Y/N isn’t kissing back, but she’s not stopping it either. She just wants to bask in the way his thumbs are caressing the underside of her jaw as he suckles her tongue and chews on the center of her lower lip. His warm body is caving against her’s, bracketing her in and refusing to let go because, fuck, he needs this. Needs her. “You taste so bloody sweet, darling. S’like champagne and cream and...” Harry can’t help but fully grin into the kiss. “And coffee cake.” A small laugh pipes from Y/N’s trembling frame as a timid yet cheeky, “Wonder why.” puffs from under her breath. He’s pulling back a bit, replacing the long, drawn-out kiss with a scatter of gentle, cushiony pecks instead as he tries to get himself together. Harry’s plan backfires somewhat, however, because before he knows it he is back to desperately sifting his lips between her’s like they are his last source of oxygen and at this point, he doesn’t consider them anything less than life-saving. “Shit, I bet y’taste even better between your thighs...” The blunt words had escaped his mouth, managing to slide by the filter in his brain due to all of his thoughts muddling together into one messy image that takes up every function of his being— the image of him snuggled between Y/N’s thighs as they roll around in the rumpled, damp lavender sheets of his king-sized bed, her nails biting memories into the flexing muscles along his back as he stains her tongue with his needy gasps and moans, his skin glistening with sweat and littered with love bites. A sudden warmth pools Y/N’s cheeks and something tells him she’s thinking the exact same thing. Maybe it’s the way her grip instinctively tightens on him, her fingers winding harder into the fabric of his sweatshirt, or how her swollen mouth falls open just a tad more to allow him as much access as he wants, but he’s just certain the same scene is rolling through the film behind her eyes. Harry’s starting to buck against the thigh she has between his, raw desire slowly gaining complete control of the reigns. His brows frown deeper as the buzzing in his bones rattles harder. When he speaks, his voice is soft and it sounds vulnerable as it thrums against her mouth. “Kiss me back. Please, pet, kiss me back. Need to know you want me, too.” Every nerve in Y/N is telling her not to. Every single fiber is telling her to high-tail it out of this situation before it goes into territory that they won’t be able to come back from. She has watched enough romantic comedies and chick-flicks to know that the whole boss-employee cliche never goes well. It’s ridiculous, really, that she’s let herself get this far when she’s always the one telling the TV off about how stupid the girl is being and how stupid the plot of the entire film is and how stupid the ending is because everyone knows there’s rarely such a thing as happily ever after when it comes to mixing career with pleasure and it’s all just so fucking stupid. But the thing the Y/N thinks is utterly moronic is that she finds herself, for once, starting to empathize with the female lead in those films. Now that she’s here, in Harry’s arms again — much less drunk on tequila and much more drunk on each other— she finally sees the world from the protagonist’s point of view. She sees the devastatingly handsome, sweet, and incredibly funny boss hovering a few inches from her face as his chest heaves with nervous, rattling breaths, full eyebrows pinched in anxious hope as he awaits her answer. It’s almost like she can hear an audience in the back of her head cheering her on as they watch the intense moment unfold before them in the movie theatre, screaming at her to just let go and do it already because it’s been a long time coming and the chance has never been more right. And before Y/N can rethink her actions, she’s giving not only that dumb imaginary audience exactly what they want, but she’s finally giving herself what she wants because she’s tired of having to be sensible and obedient and righteous all the time. So what if she fucks up this once? She’s spent most of her time at the company doing enough damage control to cushion it over. This one’s for her. Harry watches intensely with fluttering eyelashes and a battering heart as Y/N coasts her shaky hands across his broad shoulders and up his blushing neck to cup his set jaw, moving a single rebellious curl back from his forehead, her thumbs slowly curving around shells of his ears in thoughtful circles that have his knees knocking. He watches with enormous relief as Y/N hesitantly edges her face closer to his, eyes glued to his mouth with a form of uncertain determination as she prepares to take a leap that he well knows will take both of them down. Yet, he doesn’t stop it because she’s worth it— any rumors or dirty looks or gossip that might arise, she’s worth all of it because she’s so unique and special to him that he just can’t let this go. When Y/N finally touches her mouth to his, it feels like everything that has lead to this moment has been perfect and like the stars have aligned just so that both of them could be here tonight to finish the constellation. It’s sappy and disgustingly poetic on his part to think of a hormonal make-out session as some sign from the universe, but he doesn’t give two shits because that’s how it feels to him and he doesn’t remember a time where he’s ever felt more alive. Harry’s only in his early twenties but his family business has caused him to have to grow up earlier than others of his time. Do to these circumstances, he thinks he should be allowed this— should be allowed this messy encounter with a girl he’s been crushing on like a twelve-year-old for months now. She’s lively and lovely and kind and could give any famous comedian a run for their money and he is almost a hundred percent sure that his stomach has never felt this hollow and twisted before when he’s been kissed. He deserves this. This is for him. Both of their thoughts are racing a hundred miles a minute, overcome by the wave of sensations that neither have experienced from each other, let alone were ready for. Harry feels frozen in time, his fingers twitching against her jaw as she slots her mouth deeper with his, acting out of sheer adrenaline. Y/N suddenly releases a small, watery whine from the back of her throat, and this acts as some form of reality check to Harry because the sound is so intoxicating and syrupy that it jolts him into action. His hands quickly fumble for her hips, grabbing at her cushiony waist and backing her up even further against the counter. Y/N’s body reacts to his implications all by itself, pushing up off the ground as Harry’s arms flex with her weight, dropping her lightly onto then cold marble counter. Her thighs part widely to bring him closer, arms locked around his neck as Harry tilts his head slightly to the side, his nose brushing against her cheek as he delves further into her mouth. His breathing is spastic and wild as it puffs from his nose, tickling her skin and sending a jitter down her spine. “Fuck’s sake...” Harry mumbles all raspy against her plush mouth, licking shyly at her top lip and revering in the way her thighs squeeze tighter around his hips. “S-Sorry if I’m a little rusty...s’been a while, actually, and— God, can you do that again?” Y/N has moved her hungry lips to the underside of his strong jaw, suckling down the structured skin and using the cute little moles scattered across Harry’s neck as guides. She pays close attention to each one, per his request, and her technique seems to prove valid because his fingers dig into her thighs, his head slowly lulling back to give her any space she needs to keep going. He’s biting down on the flesh just below his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth curved up into a dreamy, pleasureful grin as his eyes droop shut in bliss. His cheeks tint a darker shade of mauve, chest thrumming with satisfaction. “It’s okay. It’s actually been minute for me, too...” Harry chokes out a drunken boyish giggle that has hints of disbelief. “I highly doubt that’s tru— bloody hell— stop, stop!” Y/N moves her mouth away from the little dip at the center of his taunt throat, feeling confused and a bit embarrassed. “Was it hurting? I’m so sorry—” “No, no, it’s not you. These are...” Harry whispers between deep gulps of air, reaching up to smooth his index finger thoughtfully across Y/N’s swollen bottom lip. He swallows heavily as she stares up at him with wide, curious eyes that have his balls aching. “These are fuckin’ magical.” When she speaks, her voice is meek and nervous and she has the cutest little pout present. “Then why’d we stop?” “Well, it’s just that since it’s been some time since my last play-date, I’m kinda sensitiveee— Oh, fuck, that’s deep.” Harry’s interrupted by Y/N gradually taking the finger that was prodding her lips into her mouth, tongue swirling around the digit and sucking feverishly, preening at the way his jaw goes slack and his eyebrows scrunch with sexual angst. She grabs a hold of his palm, uncoiling a second finger and tucking it inside as well, coating them thoroughly before pulling away slowly. She holds grueling eye contact the entire time, holding his large hand with both of her’s and separating the two digits with her tongue, running it down the center of both before planting sloppy wet kisses up and down their length. Harry feels like his whole body has been set alight, his thighs clenching and toes curling in his socks as he watches the utterly erotic scene unfold. How was he to know that sweet, gentle, comedic Y/N was so shamelessly dirty? He doesn’t hesitate to voice it, either, with his tone full of pained lust and wondrous awe. “Christ, you’re such a horny little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N nearly chokes around his fingers at his comment. It sounds so much hotter in real life than in her imagination. He smirks lightly. “Just asking for it— practically begging, with that pretty mouth and those big eyes.” Y/N turns Harry’s hand upwards, sponging messy suckling kisses across his tingling palm. “Like I said, it’s been a while for me, too.” “Can see that clearly, now.” He murmurs under his breath, watching with bated inhales as lightning courses from her lips through the nerves in his skin. “Why’d you wanna stop?” She reiterates, failing to keep the hurt from her voice. When Harry interprets her mood, he immediately feels like shit. “Oh, darling,” he coos softly, leaning forward and nudging her nose with his. “It wasn’t you, it’s just that...I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself— let alone regain my masculinity— if I had an incident from simply just making out.” Y/N blinks at him exactly three times. “You were gonna cum from kissing?” Harry’s shoulders slump as a scowl toys with his cheeks. “Rub it in, why don’t you?” The snorty giggle she releases somewhat makes up for the dig at his ego. “I’m sorry, that’s just...Well, it’s the biggest compliment I’ve ever gotten, if I’m being honest.” “Nice damage control.” He huffs sarcastically with a light roll of his eyes. “I’m serious! I’m really flattered, Har.” His ears perk at the nickname and now he wants to hear her scream it more than ever. “I love the way that sounds coming from your mouth.” “Yeah?” She smiles softly. “Yeah...” He nods, side-grin buckling his face. “Wanna hear it again...and again...and again...Preferably while I have you shaking under me...headboard ramming against the wall...” Harry’s hand has coasted up her inner thigh, massaging it deeply as his lips bristle down from her eyelids to her cheek and across the underside of her jaw. “Can I touch you?” Y/N releases a stuttered, semi-laughing gasp. “Would be a crime if you didn’t.” Harry hooks his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, running them along the rim towards the button as he liters sparse pecks along her throat, his voice coming out low and sultry. “Wanted this since the moment you walked into my office.” Y/N swallows thickly, feeling the metal bit of her pants pop open and he pauses for a second to roll up a single sleeve of his grey jumper to get any possible obstacles out of the way. It’s something so trivial, yet it only makes the dampness between her thighs grow. “Wanted to just spread you over my glass table, hike up the pretty pencil skirt, and sink my face between your legs until all I could taste and smell was you.” His fingers ghost over her abdomen, crawling past the restraints of the denim and tracing over the cotton material of her panties. “Watch your chest heave as I marked my teeth across your inner thighs, my rings staining the rest.” Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head as Harry confesses all he has ever wanted to do to her, his lips searing passion into her neck with every bite. His fingers are now cupping her over her underwear, two middle ones pressed up against the thick of her swollen clit and there is not doubt in her mind that she is soaked well through. “You’re already dripping and I’ve barely done a thing. S’cute how horny you are, really. Never imagined you to be so messy.” The whimper that strings Y/N’s vocal chords comes from deep in the pit of her stomach, pushed forward by utter need and the wish to fulfill a long-desired fantasy. His fingers start moving in long, teasing circles. “Harry...” “Bet you’re tight, too, aren’t you? Haven’t been fucked right in so long, you need someone to stretch you out nice and proper, yeah?” All Y/N can do is nod her head, hips bucking forward against his fingers, her head tilting down so that their foreheads flush against one another. The pine of Harry’s glossy irises stares up at her through his thick lashes, full of sly smugness at being able to dismantle her so easily. He kisses lightly at her quivering mouth, digits speeding up under her clothes. “‘M gonna fuck you all night long, angel. Make up for all that lost time.” Y/N feels a third finger hook around the crotch area of her panties, moving the fabric to the side to allow full on skin-to-skin contact. Harry can’t help the way his mouth drops open as his digits sink down between her folds, the warmth and wetness enveloping him as he teases one inside her. “Christ, you’re so dirty, pet.” “Harry, please...” Y/N tries to go in for a full kiss, but he pulls back, shaking his head mockingly and she’s so slick he manages to coax in a second finger. “Want you to look at me while I finger-fuck you.” His words leave her cheeks itching and her teeth numb, whimpering as he stretches her out. “I’m gonna do so many things to this perfect cunt. Gonna fit myself between your thighs and fuck you on your back so I can see how cute you look cumming. Then I’m gonna flip you around and take you from behind so I can mark my hands across your ass.” Harry’s picking up the pace against her heat, and his arm and wrist are starting to become sore but he knows it’ll be worth it if Y/N keeps squeaking and writhing the way she is. His eyes twinkle dangerously with another idea. “You ever been fucked out on a balcony, petal?” Y/N doesn’t trust herself to speak, settling for shaking her head drunkenly and letting out a muffled mm-mm. “We’ll change that, then.” She can’t stop herself from making a coy remark, more to herself but his ears manage to catch it. “Not surprised you’ve got an exhibition kink.” Harry’s eyebrows quirk up in amused surprise, his motions halting for a second. “S’cuse me?” Y/N licks across her chapped bottom lip, swallowing to regain some moisture back in her throat. “It goes hand-in-hand with a praise kink, which you obviously have, as well.” Harry pulls his hand out completely from under her jeans now, despite her small whine of disapproval, much more interested in the psychological analysis she has conceived of him. “Some interesting assumptions. Please,” he brings his fingers up to his face, examining the glossiness across his skin before shoving them into his mouth, “do go on.” Y/N yelps quietly at the sight of him tasting her and her reaction reminds him of a startled puppy, for some reason. It’s absolutely endearing. “No, please,” Harry removes his soaked fingers from his mouth with a wet pop, licking over the middle one more time calmly just to push her right up to the edge. “Continue.” And Y/N does, with a shaky tone and buzzing tummy. “When you give speeches and stuff at work and rallies, or when you talk at career fairs, you always love to hear the people applaud you at the end. You encourage it, actually. It doesn’t take much to guess that it translates into bed, as well.” “And you’d be right.” Harry smirks, tongue sweeping over his top teeth slowly to end up pressed against the inside of his right cheek cockily. “But here’s the difference. At work, I strive for it. In bed, it comes naturally. I never have to ask someone if they like it because by the end, they can’t stop screaming about it.” “I’ll make sure to add that to my psychosexual research journal.” Y/N forces out the words with a tight smile as he gives her a gradual, predatory-like once-over, licking his flushed lips distractedly. Harry belts out another boyish, heart-fluttering giggle. “Go right ahead. Can’t wait to see your segment on the Discovery Channel.” And then he’s back to tonguing beneath her upper lip, the palm of the bare arm cupping her jaw as the other hand presses flat against the cold marble of the kitchen island beside her thigh. His mouth tastes of the buttery coffee cake and he smells like cinnamon and his lips are like silk as they glide wetly over her skin and Y/N can confirm that heaven really is a place on earth. Her being who she is, she’s already calculating everything down to the minute. If she stays over tonight and he makes good on his promise to work her down to a pool of lube and tears, then they will probably end up sleeping in tomorrow morning, plus it will take her a while to get used to the soreness. Consequently, this means she’ll miss the latest rerun of The Vampire Diaries (she’s rewatching the whole show for a hindsight analysis and she hates to admit it but Elena can be so fucking annoying sometimes). She will also have to push back the brunch with her mom into an actual lunch, and her car was due for an emissions check but she guesses she could miss the appointment and reschedule since her mechanic was a family friend. Grocery shopping would run late, which means that grouchy old cat lady with the purple highlights she always runs into would beat her to getting the freshest blueberries available since the market restocks late Saturday afternoons. She’ll just have to survive without blueberries for another week. All of this is whirring through Y/N’s head as Harry trails his hypnotizing mouth to the thumping pulse in her neck, mumbling something about how sweet her skin tastes. Her eyes flutter, high on his touch and nearly imploding as he presses between her thighs, hissing against her throat as his crotch braces her’s. “So warm f’me...” Y/N thinks that she’s mentally gone through every errand she has tomorrow and decides she is willing to fuck up her schedule if it means getting fucked herself, preferably more than once and possibly in many different compromising positions. Acting on impulse, she begins to undo the tie on Harry’s his mesh shorts and she can feel his hot mouth spread into a wide simper against her juglar. But then, as her responsibilities are locking themselves away for the night in a little door in the back of her mind, something else emerges from her subconscious— something she had totally let slip. It was triggered by her thinking about her schedule, specifically because Saturday mornings, as she watches her show and crams down a bowl of Lucky Charms, is when she organizes Niall’s own schedule for the upcoming week. Thinking about Niall’s schedule is a direct correlation to work, and now that tiny annoying thought is inflating into a full on freak-out as all the alarms in Y/N’s head— which had been muted by Harry’s homey scent and the feeling of his clothed back muscles flexing beneath her fingertips— are blaring loud and proud in her ears. There’s no way she can go through with this. “H-Harry...” The word comes out choked. “Fucking hell, say it again. Say my name again like that, all breathy and soft. Please, angel.” He purrs, hips bucking forward lightly as her fingertips remain perched on the waistband of his shorts. As much as it pains Y/N, she musters up all of the will power left within her (which isn’t very much) and puts it into her voice, her tone vehement. “Harry, we have to stop.” In all of his life, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything as heartbreaking as those five words. Heartbreaking because he knows exactly what is going to come after them. Y/N is going to say that they can’t do this because of work. Because he’s her boss. Because it’s wrong and completely unprofessional. And she would be right— Harry knows this. But his business has taken up so much of him as it is— his youth, his peace of mind, his ability to let go for a bit and do something out of his nature— so he outright refuses to let it stomp all over his love life, as well. It’s the one thing he has left, and much to the comedic irony of the universe, Y/N happens to be at the center of it all. People can’t control who they fall for, but if he had seen it coming, he would have done everything in his power to try and stop it. But he didn’t see it coming. Y/N just crashed right into his life, quite literally, with her gentle smile and her witty personality and her hilarious Vine references and Harry was done in long before he even realized it. They are so close. He is so close. Y/N is in his house, his bedroom is right there. He doesn’t just want to sleep with her, he wants everything that comes with it. He wants to wake up with her in his arms, still fast asleep with her hair in tangles and her lashes resting perfectly atop her soft cheeks. He wants to make her French toast every morning and see her walk out of his room, dressed for work in her favorite pair of black dress pants and a frilly creme blouse, heels clicking against the kitchen floor. He wants her to scold him for still being in his Spider-Man pajama pants rather than ready for the office and to shove him towards the bathroom as she says she’ll finish up breakfast. Harry wants Y/N to have to use his shampoo when her’s runs out, resulting in a playful fight about how her forgetfulness causes him to always have to buy three bottles instead of one, lest he end up having to use the body wash to get the job done. Harry wants her in his hole-ridden band t-shirts, in his lap as they watch Cupcake Wars, and pressed against his back as she attempts to braid his curls but fails because of her limited hair skills. He wants to drive her to work every morning and stop by the small café down the block. Wants to order their coffees, preparing her’s with extra whipped cream, a dash of nutmeg, and exactly 3 tablespoons of honey, all just to mock her sweet tooth as they stop at a traffic light, squeezing her hand over the center console and rolling his eyes while she sticks her tongue out at him. Harry wants all the strings attached that come with being so gone for someone that the very idea of seeing them makes everything negative dissipate. It’s because of this— because of how whipped she has him— that he forces himself to back off, pulling his mouth away from her and trying to hold back the scream of sad frustration that is itching at the roof of his mouth, threatening to squeeze between the cracks of his teeth. Even though he well knows the answer, he still asks. He needs to hear it so that he can fully draw away and detach his hand from her supple cheek and his emotions from her’s. “Why?” It’s just one syllable, but Y/N can feel that it is packed heavy with all of his longing anger. “Because of work.” And there it is, word for word verbatim. The thing is, Harry did see that coming, but it hurt the same either way. “Right.” He whispers, sighing heavily to hide the wobble in his voice. He takes a few steps back from Y/N, his hands coming up before him with his palms forward to signify surrender. Y/N wishes she didn’t miss the warmth of his touch as much as she does. When she speaks, it is nasally and sorrow, her fingers fiddling glumly in her lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head a tad, releasing a quick laugh to try and lighten up the mood but it comes out humorless and somewhat bitter. “No, it’s okay. You have a point. It’s not appropriate.” Y/N can’t stand to see him so upset. It’s obvious he is trying to hide it. His face is cast down, gaze focused on the ground with a deep grimace tilting the corners of his lips in the wrong direction and carving his dimples into his cheeks for the opposite purpose of what they’re made for. His eyelashes keep fluttering, meaning he is trying to blink something out of his eyes. The possibility of it being tears makes it feel as if someone were trying to wrench Y/N’s heart from her chest. “I don’t...” Her words strain the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what else to say...” She just wishes he’d look at her. “I don’t either.” He sounds icy and distant. Y/N slips down awkwardly from her seat on the kitchen island and this time she makes sure not to lose her footing. Despite his cold appearance, Harry still glances up for a moment to make sure she makes it down safely, though it goes unnoticed. Their eyes catch and Y/N feels her stomach plummet down six stories. His facial expression is something she can’t make sense of. His eyes are devastatingly bleak, emerald irises holding none of his usual sly humor and kind happiness. Instead, they are a muted olive tone, glossy but not in the way she wishes they were. The frown is gone, replaced by him pursing his full lips as if calculating whether to throw her out. His arms have come up to fold across his strong chest, fists tight and tucked into the creases of the inside of his elbows. His stance is very rigid and guarded, as if he is trying to cut away any connection between the two of them. Y/N feels like she is drowning. One of her hands reaches across her body, fingers wrapping around her upper arm and squeezing nervously— an anxious mannerism. She draws into herself to feel safer, not because she feels like he’d lash out at her, but because she feels alone. “Harry, I’m really—” Harry cuts her off, his own voice monotone and stern. “I think you should go.” She allows her parted lips to come together tightly, and despite every cell in her body telling her to take the exit, her feet stay planted. She can’t leave things this shattered between them. Last time, he was drunk. Everything was forgotten and there was no mess to clean up. This time, they weren’t so lucky. “Can we just talk it out? I don’t want to leave with things so bad between us. You’re my friend and I—“ “I’m your boss.” The sentence is sharp and cuts as it intended. Harry had let it out in an overwhelming wave of sudden rage, hurt more than he’d ever care to admit. Y/N stares at him with watering eyes, blinking back her emotions. “You’re right. I’m sorry for insisting. I’ll, uhm—” her voice cracks despite her best efforts to stifle her feelings, and a hand flies up to cover her mouth to keep a sob from spilling out. “I’ll just go.” This time, Y/N’s feet don’t fight her. Her windbreaker whips behind her as she hurriedly paces out of the kitchen and through the living room, making sure her eyesight doesn’t wander towards the lamp she had praised earlier. She pauses by the table where her shoes are tucked, feeling her chest contract at the picture of Harry and his goddaughter. Y/N cannot believe she had fucked up this bad. Getting the door unlocked feels like an eternity and she angrily wonders why someone would need three separate locks on a door when the building has a security guard checking the floors every hour. It slams closed behind her, and though she didn’t mean to be so rough, it helps the gnawing in her lungs somewhat subside. Her legs take her down the dimly-lit corridor of Harry’s floor, her shadow tailing her on both walls, footsteps muffled by the thick, expensive maroon carpeting. The metal doors of elevator glint cruelly at end of the hall. Y/N jabs her thumb into the down button so hard that a flash of pain shoots up her entire hand, but she ignores it. It’s nothing compared to what is boiling at the pit of her stomach. She can hear the soft skidding of the elevator descending to her floor, the gentle thump of its arrival, and she’s squeezing in before the doors are even fully open. Nothing seems to be fast enough as she hits the lobby button and keeps clicking the gold slot that is engraved close doors in cursive. The elevator lurches down ever so slightly, smooth and soundless and what else can be expected from such an expensive condominium. Y/N watches the buttons of the floors light up as she makes her way down, everything that has happened playing in fast-forward over and over behind her glassy eyes. The picture frame. The cozy clothing. The lamp. The art. The smiles. The cake. The jokes. The flirting. The fall. The giggling. The kiss. The touching. Her stopping him. Harry drawing away. Her dismounting the island again. Harry checking to make sure she got down safely. Y/N apologizing. Harry drawing into himself. Telling her to— Y/N blinks once, and it’s as if she is taking a remote and back-tracking, trying to find a bit in the storyline that she had missed before. Harry checking to make sure she got down safely. And suddenly, she’s flashed back to a conversation they’d had a long while back when she had offered to help him organize his desk while everyone was out for a lunch break.

“Who knew that the refined, put-together Mr. Styles could be such a fucking slob.” “Heyyyyy!” Harry had chucked an used up pen at her, scrunching his nose into a silly face. “Shut up.” “You shut up and learn to clean your shit.” Y/N had grumbled, picking up a half-finished, dirty stack of rose-printed Sticky Notes and throwing it into the discard pile. “My shit is what makes me unique. There’s not another messy desk like this one anywhere in the world, I can guarantee that.” He replies, holding up a protein bar wrapper and kissing it proudly. She rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head and laughing as he sets it down with the other trash and pets it affectionately. “You’re so lame.” “Whatever.” After some more digging and an embarrassing amount of protein bar wrappers later, Y/N comes upon a crumble piece of paper that is worn with coffee cup stains. She unwraps it, wanting to see if it is of any importance, and comes upon an interesting discovery. “Are these...lines of a poem?” Harry’s head whips up from digging in the bottom cabinet. “Huh?” Y/N sets the notebook paper down on the glass desk and straightens it out with her palms. She then holds it up for him to see, reciting the phrases on the crumbles surface: We haven't spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won't you ever say what you want to say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way. “Oh...” Harry mumbles wistfully, his cheeks tinging the faintest shade of rose. “That.” “‘That?’” Y/N raises her eyebrows teasingly. “What is ‘that,’ exactly?” He sighs lightly, chucking an empty styrofoam cup in the throw-away pile. “Well...” Harry hesitates. He’s never really talked to anyone about this. But for some reason, Y/N seems like the right person to. He highly doubts she’ll judge him— she’s too nice— and if she read the lines and is interested in them, it must be because she likes them. That, and by the stubborn expression on her face at the moment, he knows she won’t let it go. “They’re poem lines, yeah.” Harry finally answers, nodding his head a bit and pushing up of the ground by his knees. He scratches at the back of his neck nervously. “I, uhm...I used to write when I was younger.” “Really?” The way her eyes light up soothes some of his anxiousness. “Mm-hm. I was quite fond of it, actually. Had a notebook full of lines like these and everything. But after my dad started training me to take on the company, it kind of got lost in the wind.” Harry is in front of Y/N now and she allows him to take the crinkly sheet from her gentle grasp. He loves how she had been holding the paper as if it were a piece of art— it makes his heart flutter that she regarded it as so. Makes his heart flutter enough to keep opening up. “Every now and then something will pop into my head and I’ll write it down wherever I can. I usually just throw them into the bin ‘cause I know they’ll never really amount to much, but I guess this one escaped that fate.” Harry thumbs over the dry, smudged ink, melancholy washing over his eyes as he recalls where these words had stemmed from. He had been going through a bad break-up that had derived from lack of communication, more on his part than on his partner’s. The lines appeared to be directed to someone else, but they were actually about himself. As if one cue, Y/N pipes up with a meek voice covered in curious wonder. “What do they mean?” Harry would normally never share something so emotionally intimate with anyone, but the innocent awe complimenting Y/N’s features at the moment washes his heart in a form of safe familiarity and he feels like he would tell her his deepest, darkest secrets if she asked. He finds that the explanation comes out surprisingly easy and he chalks it up to the saying that “time heals” and what not. “It’s more-so a message to myself than to someone else. I’m a very emotionally closed-off person and I never know how to properly communicate what I’m feeling. Whenever I feel angry or hurt or threatened when it comes emotions, I always shut off and become kinda cold and detached. It’s basically self-sabotage and, like...I know it is, but it’s always been my default so it’s what I always tend to do. No matter how much I want to work things out and fix whatever’s broken, I just don’t really know how to go about it. I always just settle for silence and never end up saying what I want to say.” The office room has grown so silent, Harry could drop that worn-out pen from earlier and it would echo across the walls without a problem. He feels like he’s just peeled open his chest and bared his heart to someone he’s only known for a few months and it’s suffocating him like nothing else has before. He’s too scared to look at Y/N for fear of getting a negative reaction to his confession. But much to his relief, it goes better than he could’ve hoped for. “That’s beautiful, Harry.” He glances at her, sighing shakily, a shy smile taking up his quivering lips. “Y’mean that?” Y/N nods confidently, the palm of one of her hands coming up to smooth assuringly across the expanse of his tense back. “I really do. It’s beautiful, in tragic kind of way.” Harry snorts with amusement. “It’s nice to know that you find the inner turmoil of my soul to be artsy and tragic.” “I sure do. Shakespeare’s shook, sister.” Y/N releases a small fit of giggles and he can’t resist to joining in, feeling strangely better about a part of his life he had bottled up so long ago. “You should save it.” She suggests, patting his broad shoulder before moving to start picking up stuff to take to the trash can. “Keep it in case inspiration ever strikes again.” “Yeah...” Harry nods his head once as he glances back down at the paper thoughtfully, folding it up and slipping it into the back pocket of his trousers. “I will.” A loud ding brings Y/N out of the trip into her memories, the gilded doors of the elevator starting to crack open. Everything is hitting her at once, and she feels like she could collapse from all of the puzzle pieces knocking around the inside of her skull, connecting that specific past experience to what is happening between her and Harry presently. He had admitted to her that he was the type of personal to lock himself in when he felt emotionally threatened. He had confessed that he became cold and distant whenever he was sad. He had disclosed that his go-to mechanism for dealing with sentimental rejection was to block out the person causing it and to isolate himself in order to lick his wounds, no matter how badly he wanted to reconcile. All of these are characteristics of the behavior he had shown tonight when Y/N had stopped what was about to go down between them. If she wanted to fix this, she was going to have to break through to him. And for the first time, Y/N can see that Harry’s emotions for her were just as strong as her’s were for him. That it wasn’t just lust or infatuation of having something taboo, but rather actual feelings that had to do with so much more than a surface attraction. Not only this, but she also comes to terms with the fact that she had halted their actions not just because it clashed with their work situation, but because she herself had been afraid that what was going to happen between them might not have meant to Harry what is was going to mean to her. But now she knows. Knows that they are on the exact same page, emotionally and physically, and she’s not scared anymore. Not scared of what might go around at the office or of what anyone else would have to say or of what would happen after because it would be worth it— they meant more to each other than any baseless gossip. For the first time tonight, Y/N’s body acts not only on impulse of adrenalin and hormones, but also out of impulse of the heart. She reaches up quickly, her thumb hitting the gold slot that is engraved close doors in cursive. Then, with trembling fingers, she clicks the button that leads back up to Harry’s floor.