#hunflowers x sweetcreatureinthedark

[matildashoney]

𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 // 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ~ 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ~ 𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 ~ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚! 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭��𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜��𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @temptressstyles, @clumsywithlove93, @reveriehs, @harrys-cherrry, @stylesandshit, @faithietheory, @doubtfulwelshie, @meetmymouth​, @maplemanlover, @morethanamelodyy​, @mckenzieclaire​, @nevertoooldtodancelikeamanic, @rainbowparadiseharry​, @glitterandharry​, @millenial-teenybopper, @6616617228, @burberryharold​, @jesusidontcare1, @summertimestyles​

Harry

“Why are you in a messy situation?”

Harry’s battered shoes paced him back and forth on the oakwood flooring, no sense of rest in sight despite how badly he felt the need to sit down and close his eyes. The sleek leather couch called his name continuously every time he came near it, but he stayed pacing, cracking his knuckles and then immediately trying to crack them again the moment trepidation crept back in his mind.

He could feel Dr. Rier’s eyes burning into his forehead, his pen monotonously hitting against his notepad as seconds clicked on. He sat unimpressed and more impatient as Harry continued to ignore his pleas to sit down, seeming more interested in the wood beneath him than his therapy session.

Maybe it’s a new floor? It definitely looks new.

Dr. Rier cleared his throat, uncrossing his left leg, to then just cross his right leg over. “You like the floor? I just got it redone.” At this, Harry’s eyes lifted to meet the man across from him. His steps subsided as inferiority pushed through his veins, the look on Dr. Rier’s face chilling his spine despite the calm features that were present. “So it seems you are listening.”

Harry sighed, sitting himself down on the couch, letting his body slouch down as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to rid the exhaustion from his body. Harry guesses around seven minutes have passed since he first walked into the office this morning, only the usual greetings of, ‘Hi David’ and, ‘Hi Harry. It’s Dr. Rier to you’ being the words exchanged between them. When Harry called a couple days prior, saying he desperately needed to talk about his current life situation and the mess he’s caused, David was - for lack of a better term, excited to finally get down to business with him. However, their entire exchange so far has been little to no progress from a very stubborn man. “I know this is difficult for you, Harry. But in order to get through this, I’m gonna need you to talk to me. So, tell me, why are you in a messy situation?”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, tugging his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I punched Stella’s dance partner. Ex-dance partner.”

“Why?”

Why? Harry had so many reasons then for why he punched River and his cocky smug smile. But now he was drawing a blank. With how Stella reacted to his outburst, any justification he once had was thrown out of the nearest window, crumbling into the pavement on the street and being crushed by anyone who walked on it. Her despair and anger at Harry were enough for him to realize that he had a problem. He doesn’t know why he got so worked up to the point that he actually punched River.

All Harry could respond with was a mere shrug, because he really had no idea. And he has no idea how to get out of the hole he’s dug himself into.

If Dr. Rier knows anything about Harry from the few sessions they’ve had together, he’s learned it’s best to not push him in the very beginning. He wants to allow Harry the freedom of expressing his feelings and thoughts on his own free will without any sort of pressure that he may feel outside of this room. So, when he gets up to brew himself a cup of coffee, his ears instantly perk at the sound of Harry sighing, adjusting on the couch, and then speaking up.

“I was angry. He was saying shit to piss me off, and I just lost it. I dunno,” he shrugged again, trying for the umpteenth time to crack his knuckles again but failing miserably.

Looking over his shoulder at the brooding boxer, Dr. Rier could see just how tired Harry truly looked. The bags under his eyes and the much-more-quiet behavior he was eliciting was enough to tell him that whatever was going inside of his mind, was truly wearing him down.

“What did he say to you?” Taking a sip of his coffee, Dr. Rier sat back down in his chair, deciding to leave his notebook on the table in front of him, trying for a more comfortable approach to talking to Harry.

It was noticed by Harry, which involuntarily opened him up a bit more. Or maybe it was the brutal beating he was performing on himself that made him let go of this harsh attitude and finally cave to actually talking. “Said I’m bad for her. For Stella. Said I should let her go for good because she’s better off without me.”

“And that made you angry, so you punched him.”

Harry nodded.

“Why did it make you angry?”

Harry can’t lose her. Under no circumstances is leaving her the best option; not just for him but for her too. Stella planted her roots deep in Harry’s soul, and letting her go would rip him apart. His soul, who he is, would be torn to shreds if she wasn’t part of his life anymore - and maybe he’s selfish, greedy, and narcissistic, but he needs her. He can’t lose her. Life wouldn’t be complete.

It’s not even about his job anymore or the fact that Stella is his good luck star. He almost lost her once and it hurt him more than he ever could’ve imagined. He never wants to feel that pain again.

The idea of losing her again is why he started therapy in the first place. If he can manage his temper and learn to perceive the world in a different life that not only benefits him but also Stella, then so be it. He’d do anything for her.

Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his thighs, he pursed his lips, thinking of a way to say everything going on in his thoughts without using too many words. “The thought of losing her again… She’s all I have, and without her I’m miserable.”

“Oh, you mean more than you already are?” Dr. Rier joked, earning a middle finger from his client along with a quick eye roll. “Do you have other friends? Family?”

“Erm, got m’sister and one friend,” he responded, scratching the back of his head gently.

“Are you close with them?”

Harry looked around the room, almost as if he was bored, knocking his head back to rest against the back of the couch. “Kinda, I guess.”

“What about your parents?”

For just a brief moment, Harry stopped breathing. But only briefly. His eyes fluttered shut as he bit his tongue, trying his best to refrain from lashing out even at the mere mention of the people that are meant to be his parents.

“I don’t talk about them,” he muttered so quietly that if the slightest noise happened at the same time, Dr. Rier would’ve missed what he said. Harry spoke quickly again, not giving the doctor the chance to interrogate him on his unfortunate family situation. “I’m not talking about them.”

“Can I ask why?”

“No.”

Dr. Rier could sense unease within Harry at the idea of talking about his parents - it was obvious by the way he went to crack his knuckles again, and still failed to gain his expected outcome. Though by not talking about his parents, Dr. Rier is able to gauge just enough about Harry’s life that had guided him to where he is now. His younger years that relied on parental guardianship were most likely disengaging, distant, or maybe even abusive. Whatever the details may be, it was enough for Harry to build these insanely high walls around himself, subconsciously protecting himself from anyone that may hurt him emotionally.

Relying heavily on Stella is a result of his attachment issues that most probably stemmed from his parents when he was younger. Because they provided little to no emotional support, Harry never understood what that felt like; and once he received that emotional feedback from Stella, he latched himself onto her, which is essentially why he can’t let her go.

Now, Dr. Rier just had to figure out a way to sever this severe attachment to the girl without jeopardizing Harry’s mental state, or his seemingly important relationship with her.

“You mentioned something about losing Stella again. When was the first time you ‘lost’ her?”

Harry cleared his throat, keeping his eyes trained on the white ceiling above him. “Last year. She broke up with me after summat I did - or didn’t do.” Realizing the doctor was waiting for him to continue without having to continuously ask ‘why,’ Harry continued, “We didn’t talk for a couple of weeks and when we did start talking again I realized I couldn’t let her go again. That’s why m’here, I need you to tell me how to not fuck up like I always do.”

Dr. Rier shook his head, leaning forward in his chair a bit. “I’m not here to tell you how to do anything, Harry. My job is to help you learn so that you can figure out what to do and what not to do. If I hold your hand and give you a step-by-step guide, you’re not learning.”

Therapy runs parallel to life. If there was a guide to how to live life perfectly, then life would be boring and proven worthless if there were no surprises, no learning, no experiences to go through. Humans wouldn’t develop if life had a handbook. The same could be said for therapy. It’s a learning experience, and in order to develop, uncertainty is meant to happen.

Though, Harry didn’t quite understand that, giving the doctor a look of disdain, a grimace resting on his face as he spat out, “What, am I in fucking school?”

Bemused, Dr. Rier closed his eyes, momentarily wondering how much longer this session was. Regaining his composure, he decided to pick his notebook back up, looking Harry in the eye as he clicked his pen, prepared to jot down a few notes. Whenever he wrote something down, he noticed his client to grow uncomfortable with the idea of him making notes on what he was saying. It bewildered Harry how whatever he was saying actually was of any importance, but he guesses that’s the whole point of being a therapist.

Leaning back in his chair, and uncrossing his legs, Dr Rier implored, “Let’s back-track a little bit. When her dance partner confronted you, did you feel threatened?”

“Threatened? Not a chance,” Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Not physically. When he said you were bad for Stella, did you feel… panic? Did hearing him say that scare you?”

Shifting in his seat, mindlessly twirling the few rings clad on his bruised fingers. It’s not often that Harry feels scared over anything. Pathetic films that are meant to terrify the audience were a joke to him; someone reprimanding him for doing something he shouldn’t have felt more like a pat on the shoulder; even the toughest opponents in the ring that looked like they could squash his head between their biceps played no part in the nightmares he would face. The only thing that frightened him, that made a chill go down his spine, that caused nausea to slowly creep up his throat, was the idea of never seeing Stella again.

So when River spewed the cutthroat words that slashed a gash through his brain, “You’re bad for her. Can’t you see that?” the only thing Harry could feel, was scared. “Uh- I guess. I definitely didn’t like it.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

“‘Scuse me?” Harry hissed, narrowing his eyes slightly and scrunching his eyebrows together tightly.

Dr. Rier shrugged, tilting his head slightly, not at all intimidated. “You heard me.”

Harry started seeing the doctor a month prior. He and Stella had a little fight over something that was completely useless, so much so that he can’t even remember what they were fighting about. But in the midst of that fight, Stella had said something to him that shook him to his core and was enough of a wake-up call for him to realize that he needs help.

“Stell- please, you know I didn’t mean it,” he begged, standing outside of her apartment door, hands on the threshold, avoiding her from slamming the door in his face.

Anger mixed with a bit of sadness flushed through her body as she repeatedly shook her head, hands on the door, ready to slam it in his face. “No, Harry, you did. I’m sick of this back and forth, I can’t do it anymore. You need to figure your shit out because I’m tired of being your verbal punching bag.”

That night he looked up therapists near him because he knew he had problems he needed to be fixed, but he was always so egocentric to have anything done about it. It was then that the idea of her leaving him fermented itself inside of his brain, and he knew he couldn’t let that happen. So, the only way to keep her was to figure out his shit.

Of course, he knows he’s bad for her. But he’s trying so hard to change that.

“Yeah. And that’s what scares me, because I want to be good for her, Doc. I need to be good.”

Dr. Rier could sense the emotion behind that reveal, almost as if it were a scene in a movie and the soundtrack music came to a dead halt. He knows Harry doesn’t like confrontation with the truth, that’s why it was so hard to get him to open up within the first few sessions they had together. It was still hard by all means, but beginning therapy Harry would’ve never said anything like this to the doctor even with a gun to his head.

Harry admitting the truth was like pulling teeth at a dentist’s office. It was difficult, but eventually, he got there. And that’s all Dr. Rier needed to continue this process. This is why he took a step back as a therapist for a second and decided to give Harry a bit of advice from a friendly point of view.

“Look, I know I said I wouldn’t tell you what to do, but, I think you should tell her you’re going to therapy. It may be hard to confess, but there’s nothing wrong with telling her the truth,” he suggested, smiling softly as he closed his notebook, needing nothing more to write down for the remainder of the session.

Harry’s cheeks tinted red as embarrassment came over him, seeming like a child who wet the bed at the idea of coming clean about his therapy. It certainly wasn’t something he could keep hidden forever, especially from Stella, but for some reason, all he could picture is her laughing in his face after he tells her the truth. It would be very unlike her to do such a thing, but someone like him doesn’t just go to therapy of his own free will, so surely she’ll think he’s insane. “I don’t know about that.”

“You have this idea that she’s going to leave you because she’s too good for you. Show her that you are trying. If there’s anything I’ve learned after being married for forty years and being a therapist, reciprocation, trust, and honesty are key. Relationships are a two-way street, Harry. If you want her to stay, you have to try and be honest. Not only with her, but with yourself.”

Amongst the doctor’s ramble that Harry surprisingly listened to, he could feel a text buzz in the pocket of his sweatshirt. At first, he ignored it, but then a couple of minutes went by and he felt another. Normally he stayed off his phone for the full hour duration, but something told him he had to go on his phone this one time.

And that something was Stella.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket despite the request of Dr. Rier to put it away, Harry read the messages that she left for him, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her name. It was a sight he missed seeing, and one he wishes to never lose again.

Stell: Can you come over?

Stell: Please?

After any fight that the two endure, Harry was always the one to reach out first. He had no self-control and he never understood the concept of giving someone space, so he always called her first or randomly showed up at her apartment, or maybe even dropped by the studio. After their breakup a year ago, those couple of tortuous weeks went by before Harry couldn’t deal with the silence anymore, and begged her to talk to him, to see him just so he could be close again. So for her to text him first, was out of the ordinary. Harry didn’t question it though. He knew better than to second guess her intentions.

Reading her messages quickly, Harry tucks his phone back into his pocket, nearly jumping up from the leather couch and onto his feet. “Sorry to cut this short, David, but I gotta run.”

“What- Harry we still have fifteen minutes,” Dr. Rier argued after quickly glancing at his watch.

“Have I ever told you you’re a real pain in my Rier-end. Ha, get it?” Harry snickered at his own joke, practically running at the speed of light to get to the door. “I’ll see you next week.”

Then he was out of there, and on the way to his precious girl.

Stella

Stella hasn’t slept, and it’s nearly nine in the morning. Stella has been awake all night, tossing and turning, questioning whether or not she should text Harry. The, maybe, fifteen minutes of sleep that Stella was granted was rudely awakened by a nightmare of the day everything changed for Stella, the day she stopped trusting anyone but Harry.

God, that day feels like a blur to Stella, now. Most of the trauma that she felt was worked through over time and with a therapist, and the only lingering effects of the day are the occasional nightmare on a particularly bad day. Considering all the events of yesterday; yesterday was a bad day. Bad day for Stella. Bad day for Harry. Bad day for everyone.

Stella’s hands shake as she goes to text the singular person that knows about the nightmares besides her mother, the nervousness wracking through her body and making her feel slightly overwhelmed with the thought. Naturally, who else would it be besides Harry? Anyone that knows Stella would guess that Harry would be the one that she confides in, especially with such an event such as that one.

Feeling lightheaded, Stella lays on her back on her mattress, closing her eyes and laying her phone on her chest, not daring to see if Harry chooses to respond or not. Considering the ultimatum Stella gave Harry the night before, and the way she stormed out of the gym without saying a word when he couldn’t give her a proper response, it only makes sense that he ignores her message, now. Comforter warmth surrounds her as she lays in her unmade bed, her eyes squeezing shut as she wills the nausea away and wishes for the memory to stop playing over and over and over again in her head.

* * *

Bobby’s hand slipped. That’s all it was. It slipped. He wouldn’t have put his hand there on purpose. Would he? No, of course not. How unprofessional would that be? Especially, not after Stella made it clear that she has a boyfriend, and the advances were unwanted. That didn’t necessarily stop the inappropriate comments here and there when she would come into their practice with shorts on and only wear a sports bra, but she quickly stopped wearing those things and resorted to good, old fashioned shirts and workout leggings. Stella was doing everything to prevent something from happening, and it seemed to be working, for now.

Harry couldn’t know. Harry couldn’t know what was going on, because if he did, oh God, he would be livid. Harry would march himself to wherever Bobby lives and teach him a rightful lesson about touching his girl, his lovey, in any way that she said she was uncomfortable with, and the aftermath would not be pretty. Harry is protective, to say the least. Stella isn’t sure why Harry is so protective, he’s never opened up about it to her, and she is beginning to think it has something to do with his childhood that hurts a bit too much to talk about, and now here they are, dating nearly two years and she’s still wondering why he would lay his life down for her, although flattering, it still made her wonder. Harry doesn’t talk about his family, maybe that’s it. That’s Stella’s only guess. There are some signs that Stella thinks that maybe Harry has some family problems, beyond what he’s minimally told her, especially knowing that he only speaks to his sister, but she never brought it up for the sake of triggering him. She loves him too much to do that without his permission and of his own accord.

Stella shakes herself out of her thoughts and returns to her position. Bobby is waiting at the end of the floor, his arms wide open, and she quickly runs into his arms, lifting her leg into a pitch and nearly touching the floor. Her whole body tenses when his hand slips from her thigh and cups her in a place where only Harry or herself should be touching, her body immediately collapsing onto the ground and her hands beginning to shake. Bobby says something incomprehensible, trying to grab her wrist to make her stay, but Stella is quite literally bounding through the studio with her stuff in her hand, not caring about the pouring rain around her and the thunder and the lightning striking across the street, her feet carrying her to the only place she finds comfort beyond the studio, nowadays.

Harry opens the door on the second knock. He’s barely dressed, only in his boxers and a shirt - which is halfway surprising to her as he’s usually naked when he’s home alone, or with her, if she’s honest - and his eyes go wide at the sight of her. “Jesus, fuck, Stella, it’s a storm out there, were you bathing in it?”

Stella’s eyes are glossy when she speaks, and Harry is so concerned he thinks he might faint from her lack of response. “I, I ran here.”

“You ran here?”

“I, I didn’t know where else to go,” she whispers, letting him take the things out of her arms and set them on his kitchen counter, gently taking her hands and bringing her inside, closing the door behind them and letting his hands touch her shoulders gently, careful to not startle her. Stella melts into his touch, the warmth and comforting touch of the one she loves, the one she wants to be touching her.

“Lovey,” Harry asks nervously, gently cupping her jaw and having her look into his eyes, worry etched into the lines of his forehead, “are you okay?”

“Bobby, he, he.”

Harry knows. Harry knows then and there. He doesn’t know the extent of anything, which is the only thing preventing him from leaving his apartment and going to the studio to find this son of a bitch and teaching him a lesson about touching girls where they don’t want to be touched. Harry can’t react, right now. Stella needs him. His Lucky Star needs him. “Come inside, Stella. Let’s get you changed.”

“I didn’t want that, Harry,” Stella whimpers, grappling at Harry’s chest and crying into his neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and sobbing. Harry tenses underneath her, his jaw tensing and his hands balling into fists at the small of her back. He takes a step back, quickly changing his mind when she grabs him harder and begs, “Don’t go anywhere, H. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Not going anywhere, lovey,” Harry lies through his teeth, wanting nothing more than to leave and find the asshole and teach him a lesson. “Can you come with me into the bedroom? I need to get you dry clothes before you get sick. Have a competition in two weeks, baby. Can’t be getting sick.”

* * *

Quickfire knocking shakes Stella from her daydream about that day, the day. Stella knows who it is. It’s the only person it could be, the only one she’s spoken to in nearly twenty-four hours. Stella’s frustrated with herself for texting him, but she doesn't know what else to do, who else to talk to. Harry is the only one that knows about the nightmares, beyond her mother who lives an hour away. Harry is the only one that knows what happened, that knows how to comfort her. Harry is the only one.

Quickly, Stella swings her legs over the side of her bed and tugs a pair of shorts up her thighs, the shirt she’s wearing adorning the logo from the competition that broke their relationship apart. Her feet carry her to the front door, a sigh passing through her lips as she yanks open the wooden door and takes in the sleep-deprived appearance of the man she once loved with her whole heart – and maybe, just maybe, still does love.

Considering everything, ultimatums are so toxic, she thinks, and the idea that she had to give him one makes her feel sick to her stomach. Over the last twenty-four hours, she’s been tossing and turning, trying to decide whether or not she should reach out to him and tell him that it’s not fair of her to leave him with such a harsh choice, such a drastic choice. Harry has never even stepped foot inside the dance studio beyond to watch Stella. How is she supposed to teach him how to dance and learn her routine for the competition in only three months’ time? All of it is so toxic, so back and forth, and it makes her feel heavy and weighed down in the most sick and twisted way. Always, it’s always this way with Harry.

Could anything ever be easy? Stella doesn’t think so. Not with how Harry is. Not with how their relationship is.

Opening the door, Stella meets the sight of a broken-down, dishevelled, resorting-to-the-last-possible-option Harry. Harry looks horrible, Stella has to admit. The second-to-worst state she’s ever seen him in, next to that day. Harry’s eyes are bloodshot and lost of the bright green color that entrances her every move. His cheeks are sunken in as if he hasn’t eaten since she left the locker room in a rage and refused to answer his texts and calls. Harry looks distraught, that’s the only way to describe the emotion that is coming from his features.

Stella hates that Harry looks this way.

“Thank God you’re okay. I was so worried, I rushed over here as soon as I could,” Harry sighs in relief, his hands clutching the door frame so tightly that she swears he could break the wood into his hands, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, as though he ran over when he saw her message. Maybe, he did. “Lovey, are you okay?”

“Honestly, I’ve been better, Harry.” Stella’s eyes gloss over, her arms wrap around his shoulders, and her breathing falls into erratic, short pants, her head shaking and her cheeks beginning to stain with tears. Harry immediately takes her in his arms, her eyes squeezing shut as she tucks her face into his neck and cries into his warm skin, his hands slowly making their way around her midsection and gently walking the two back into her apartment to shut the door behind him.

Stella wouldn’t want to disturb her neighbors, Harry knows that. His hands rub against her back soothingly, letting her cry into his neck as he whispers in her ear and tries to coax her into telling him what’s wrong. Harry doesn’t really need Stella to tell him, he knows by the looks of it what happened, but he still wants to be sure. “Did you start thinking about that day, Stell?”

“Uh huh,” Stella whispers, her fingertips toying with the collar of his shirt, blinking rapidly to try and shake the tears away. Harry’s hands are rubbing her back comfortingly, his chin resting on her shoulder, his lips puckering and pursing, temptingly wanting to kiss her skin to soothe her. “Feel horrible about giving you an ultimatum. Haven’t slept at all because of it. I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t leave you much of a choice, Stell. It’s okay. I’m not angry.” Harry squeezes her hips and ignores his inhibitions, kissing her neck softly and whispers into her skin. “Are you having nightmares, again, lovey?” he wonders concernedly, gently bringing his hand to her hair and brushing through the curls and maneuvering her head to the side, giving a small kiss to her cheek and smiling halfway when she nudges into his touch even more so. “Can you tell me?”

“Only on bad days.”

Harry sighs regretfully. This is all his fault. Harry gave her a bad day. Not River. Harry. “Gave you a bad day, didn’t I? That was shitty of me, I’m sorry. I should’ve been here to help you, Stella. I’m sorry. My apologies mean nothing anymore, I know that, but I am sorry.” Harry pauses for a moment, thinking carefully about what to say next and how to get her to relax slightly, as she is still clutching onto his shoulders and hiding her face in his neck. “I would never hurt you, Stella. You know that, right? Like, you know it with your whole heart, that I would do anything to protect you? Hope you know that, by now.”

“Know that, H.”

“Good,” Harry says, smiling softly at the name she’s called him and kissing her cheek, once more. Stella rarely calls him ‘H’ anymore, and it breaks his heart. It might be his favorite name she’s ever given him. He’s not sure why, it simply is. “Need you to rest, Stell. I’ll lay with you.”

“Promise you’ll stay?” Stella says, cautiously taking her head out of his neck and meeting his stare, his eyes intently on her, his fingertips tracing over the side of her cheek. “Don’t run away to the gym or something. I’ll only do this, if you swear, you’ll stay.”

“Come on, lovey, you should know me better than that.” Harry adjusts his arms to sit beneath her backside, encouraging her to lift onto his waist and have him carry her to her bedroom in the corner of her apartment, the makeshift bedroom sectioning off by a cutaway wall that he installed for her when they first became friends. “Up you go.” Stella jumps into Harry’s arms, kissing his cheek hesitantly when he starts walking through her apartment. “Light as a fuckin’ feather, Stella. Have you been eating?”

“Yes, I have been,” she says with a roll of her eyes, shaking her head and carefully brushing back the hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. “I could’ve walked, you know. It’s barely ten feet from my front door to my bedroom if you weren’t aware already.”

“I’m well aware, My Lucky Star. I like being close to you. Is that a problem?” Harry teases, gently tossing her onto the mattress and pulling at the sweaty shirt clinging to his torso, soaking in the way she giggles and crosses her legs beneath her and watches him closely. The material falls behind him as he lays in the corner of the mattress, his head hitting the pillow for the first time in nearly a day, and he swears he could fall asleep instantly, surrounded by her scent and her warmth. Harry pulls Stella into his arms, tugging her lightly and having her lay on his chest, her eyes fluttering shut as she listens to his heartbeat and slots her legs between his. They’ve always slept this way, intimately touching each other. “Come with me to the gym, later?”

“God, Harry. Again? Last night wasn’t enough arguing for you?”

Harry nudges his nose into her hair and closes his eyes, whispering into her head, “Need to do some makeshift therapy if we’re going to dance together, Stella Grace.”

Stella immediately sits upright and lays her hands flat on Harry’s stomach, her thumbs rubbing over the butterfly inked into his abdomen. Harry’s muscles, instinctively, clench under her touch, and it makes her lips twitch at the corners at the way his body reacts to her, even now. Stella always assumed Harry would’ve moved on after they split, and yet, Harry’s here, back in her bed, reacting to her touching him. The thought alone nearly tears her away from what she was about to say. Then, it hits her. Harry said ‘therapy’ and meant it. “Excuse me?”

Harry chuckles breathily, leaning up on his forearms and looking at her with wide eyes as her hands slide from his stomach to his waist and settle there. “Not sure which part got you, lovey. Thinking it’s the therapy thing, isn’t it?”

Stella shakes her head in confusion, blinking rapidly, batting her lashes against her cheeks in the way that Harry secretly adores whenever she’s trying to make sense of something, and says, “Hold on a second. Harry, since when do you know anything about therapy?”

“Guess since a few weeks ago,” he says, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, as though it wasn’t a bombshell that was being dropped on his love at this very moment. “That night we fought, you told me to get my shit together or you were gone. More or less said that, if you remember correctly.” Quietly, she nods, remembering that night and the mess that it was. That night was horrible, Stella remembers clearly. Honestly, she thought it would be the last night they ever spoke. Stella’s hands leave Harry’s body, settling on her thighs and picking at the hems of her shorts nervously. “Can’t, I can’t lose you, Stella. I’ll do anything to make sure I don’t. That includes dancing with you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Stella sighs, shaking her head and laying her face in her hands. “Harry, you don’t have to do that. It wasn’t right of me to give you an ultimatum, in the first place.” All of this is too much for her, especially knowing that Harry would have literally learned a dance for her to make sure she didn’t disappear from his life. “Maybe, you know, you can just come and support me. That’s what I would really like. That’s what I want. Maybe make the gym less of a priority. Maybe make me feel like one, even as your friend. That would be nice. Feels like nothing compares to that stupid gym, sometimes.”

“Stell, you’re my number one priority.” Stella sucks in a deep breath and lays back down, laying her head on Harry’s chest and closing her eyes, folding her arms across her chest and snuggling into his side. Harry’s warmth is overwhelming, the way his arm immediately wraps around her waist and his nose tucks into her hair. “I’m sorry that it hasn’t felt that way for a while, but I’m working on it. I’m sorry that I didn’t prove that to you years ago. I shouldn’t get another chance with you, but I want it. I want you, Stella. So badly.”

Quiet surrounds him, and Harry looks for a response from the woman in his arms, smiling sweetly when he sees Stella’s eyes shut and her lips slightly parted as she breathes in slowly and surely in her sleep. He laughs breathily, laying his head back on his pillow, turning slightly to bring her closer into his embrace. Harry’s not slept with Stella in so long, this alone feels like a dream.

One dream that neither Harry nor Stella wants to wake up from.

Harry

The full moon was high in the sky by the time the last few people spread around the gym finally decided to call it quits for the night. That left Harry to his lonesome as he sat, waiting for Stella’s text that she had arrived, and to let her in. About a year ago, Mack decided it was probably best to get Harry his own set of keys to the gym, seeing as how often he’s there and how much he likes training during night hours more than when people are present. He likes being alone, which isn’t surprising in the slightest.

After seeing how badly he hurt Stella with his actions against River, it sent him into overdrive on how to make it up to her. He knows that admitting he’s trying per request of Dr. Rier was a good step in the right direction, but he couldn’t stop there. Knowing how angry he made her, he knew just the solution on how to make it better.

What better way to release anger than punching something? Or someone? Harry was very familiar with the idea, which is why he suggested she meet him at the gym for some makeshift therapy.

Through all the years he’s known her, Stella was never one for violence like him. The idea always tossed her stomach into a nauseous churn, which is why it was so hard for her to grow used to the fact that her boyfriend beat people up, and got beat up, for a living. The first couple of fights she attended, she preferred staying backstage in the locker room and away from the sight of fists being thrown and blood being spilled.

But then she got used to it, and eventually ended up in the front row, cheering him on like there was no tomorrow. As for herself though, she still never preferred to use violence as a means of exerting her anger at someone. If anything, she was much sharper with her tongue.

Being violent went against who she was as a dancer. A dancer is delicate and light on their feet and is graceful in their actions. That was everything fighters, boxers, or Harry, wasn’t.

So, it was a shock that Stella was fully in love with the idea once she realized what they were doing. She all but ran to the ring, adrenaline filling her veins at the idea of punching Harry - in a consenting way.

“Okay, you’re not actually punching me, Stell. Just the pads on m’hands,” he laughed, amused at the sight of her bouncing on the balls of her feet, like a kid in a candy store. A pout came over her lips as she huffed, now stomping her foot like a child being scolded.

Motioning his finger in a come here gesture, he held her gloves in his hands, waiting for her to put her hands inside so he could fasten them securely. “Go as hard as you want, for as long as you want. I’ll be your actual punching bag for the night,” he cheekily smiled, recounting her words from that one specific fight from a month ago.

The corners of her mouth tweaked up slightly at his words, and then perked up even more as he brought her covered fists to his mouth, planting small kisses on the leather, just like she had done a couple of nights ago. Silence filled the space around them as they stared at one another, sizing the other up in a playful manner before they headed toward the center of the ring.

Sliding the red and black focus mitts on his hands, Harry spread his legs for balance purposes, raising his arms, waiting for the first blow. Stella, too, mimicked his stance, looking at him over the top of the gloves that squeezed her fists. And then she began.

She delivered her first punch to his right hand, which instead of raising appraisal from the boxer, only caused critique. “Know you can do harder, Stella Grace.”

This time she went for his left hand, putting more weight behind her hit, but still wasn’t satisfactory to Harry. “What was that? You wanna call that a punch?”

“Harder. C’mon, Stella, harder.”

“I think m’gonna fall asleep.”

“Stell-”

“Shut up!” She finally snapped, using all of the force she could muster in her body and punching the pad on his right hand, which actually made his arm move from the impact. Her chest was heaving and her face was beginning to fade into a deep shade of red as she improved her assault, hardly giving Harry room to critique her anymore.

Punch after punch grew stronger, and the smug look on Harry’s face stretched at the sight of Stella absolutely losing her shit. What he didn’t expect though, was the verbal attack she threw at him too.

“You’re so fucking annoying, Harry. I don’t even know who you are anymore. Punching my dance partner because you’re jealous that he’s an actual good person. He was good to me, something you’re not.”

Misery bubbled in Harry’s stomach, digging a hole that caused uneasiness and dread as he saw the emotion dance over Stella’s eyes. She was angry, upset, exhausted, and it’s all because of him. Just knowing the pain he caused is enough to have Harry go to therapy, but seeing it… there’s no coming back from seeing it.

He wants to stop and hold her, hold her tightly and apologize until his mouth runs dry and he sounds like a broken record. He wishes he could take away all the hurt he’s caused in her, and he wishes he could’ve been a better boyfriend or even a better friend. Watching her crumble in front of him makes him wish maybe it would’ve been better to have never pursued her in the first place.

“I thought I could trust you again. But all you want to do is hurt me. Why? What the fuck did I ever do to you?”

Punch. Punch. Punch.

“All I ever did was love you, and support you. And what did I get in fucking return? Huh?”

Steam could practically be seen coming out of her ears. All Harry could do was stay silent and endure her wrath, afraid to even come near the dragon spitting fire in his face.

“You left me stranded at the biggest competition of my life, because, what, you were lazy? I never believed that bullshit. What was her name? Molly? Jessica? Olivia? I bet you don’t even fucking remember.”

And that’s when Harry had had enough. He dropped his hands before she could get another punch in, that misery festering into his extremities and into his brain as he gauged just how upset she really was. All this time he thought she was upset at the fact that he was too lazy to catch his flight that day and make it in time for her competition. When, in reality, she’s come up with this false narrative that he was with some other girl.

He remembers her throwing that at him the night she broke up with him, but he had no idea she still believed that to be true. Normally, the accusation would anger him, but now it only made him sad. It made him sad because he never thought she would actually believe that he cheated on her.

He’s no stranger to female attention and he knows so many women would love to get in bed with him. But it didn’t change the fact that he had his sights on Stella, and Stella only. Ever since they met at Lucky’s, there hasn’t been another girl anywhere near Stella’s level of beauty, grace, or attraction. Any female that ever came near him when they were together was nothing but static in Harry’s mind.

Even now, he has no plans of getting close to anyone that isn’t Stella. The idea of being with anyone else sickens him, actually.

So it really hurts to hear her say that.

“Stella… you don’t actually believe that, do you?” He muttered, looking her in her eyes, trying to look past the pain that she exuded.

Clenching her jaw, keeping her hands raised, she avoided his question, instead, snapping back, “Put your hands back up.”

“Lovey-”

“Put your hands back up, Harry! You wanted this, this was your idea, so fucking put them up,” she yelled, seconds away from punching him actually whether or not he raises the mitts again.

Instead, Harry just shook his head, throwing them off of his hands and stepping closer to the broken girl. In turn, she took a step back, but Harry’s strides were longer and with one more step they were practically chest-to-chest. Staring down at her, a clot in his throat formed, causing the words to fall out of his mouth with a shake, emotion pouring down on him. “I never cheated on you, Stella. Never.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, forcing herself to refrain from breaking down into tears as the anger inside her dissipated with each second she wasn’t punching him. Her jaw trembled as she took a step back, wrapping her arms around her abdomen to hold herself in a comforting way, though slightly restricted as the boxing gloves were still on her hands.

“I’m so sorry that I missed your competition. If I could go back and change what I did, I would. Fuck, Stella, I would change a lot in a heartbeat. But you have to believe that I never slept with anyone else. You’re only hurting yourself more if you keep thinking that, baby. You’re it for me, you. No one else,” he rambled, coming closer to her again and placing his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

And in a heartbeat, her arms were wrapping around his midsection instead, burying her face into his t-shirt as she let out a gut-wrenching sob that tugged at Harry’s heartstrings. He didn’t say anything else as he comforted her, allowing her to fall apart in his arms and let out all of the cries she needed to.

When she started to calm herself down, she pulled away, gesturing down to her hands and silently asking him to take the horrible things off of her fists. Once her hands were free she wrapped her arms around him again, but this time able to actually feel him, which brought them both comfort as they stood in the ring that’s usually filled with aggression and ferocity.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against his chest, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“‘Ave nothing to apologize for, Stella Grace. I’m quite proud of you actually, you’ve got a mean right hook,” he teased, and although he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was rolling her eyes far back into her skull.

Jokes aside though, Harry put his hands back on her cheeks and raised her head to look at him, sorrowful features resonating in the creases on his face. “I’m going to do better for you. I know I hurt you and I can’t change what I did, but from now on, I’m going to be and do good. I swear on it.”

Stella nodded her head, deciding to believe him and trust him one last time, hoping to herself that he actually sticks to his word. Releasing a deep breath that he didn’t realize he had taken, Harry let her go and led her out of the ring, thinking they had enough for the night.

“Can I ask you something?” Stella mused from across the gym, waiting for Harry to put everything back where it belongs.

He hummed in response, looking around the place to make sure everything seemed to be in order before he locked up for the night. The last thing he needs is Mack up his ass, threatening to take away his key privileges over something stupid like the mitts not being in the storage bin where he found him.

“Why’re you hard?”

Harry stopped in his tracks, eyes widening and eyebrows scrunching as he looked down to his crotch, seeing the slight bulge in his shorts, protruding where his cock is. “Uh-”

She giggled at his bashfulness, “You’re so predictable. Mind if I stay at yours tonight?”

Harry was utterly confused on how the night had shifted this way, or why Stella would even mention his apparent hard-on. He didn’t even realize his body was hormonal until she pointed it out, and he wasn’t complaining, but he didn’t understand what was going on.

“Sure?” He responded, but it came out more like a question as he squinted his eyes slightly and cocked his head to the side, watching her every move to see if she was gonna pull a ‘sike’ on him. Walking past her and to the front entrance, he took the keys out of his pocket and quickly looked over his shoulder to see if she was following.

She was staring at his butt. Practically ogling his legs and bottom and practically salivating at the sight.

Is she okay? Is he dreaming?

“Can I ask you something?” He retorted, putting in the alarm system code and quickly opening the door for her to exit out first as the countdown initiated. She hummed back like he did before. “Am I missing something?”

She raised one eyebrow, “Huh?”

“I just saw you staring at my ass and if y’noticed I’m hard, then you were probably also staring at my dick. How does one go from angry, to sad, to horny?”

Pursing her lips in contemplation, Stella looked up to the sky in deep thought before responding in just a shrug, a little smile on her lips as she made her way to her own car. It definitely was a good thing they didn’t arrive together, because Harry needed these few minutes of alone time to properly gather his thoughts, still so confused about what happened.

There does happen to be a full moon, so maybe that has something to do with her attitude switch.

She’s not a fucking werewolf, idiot, he thought to himself, smacking his forehead with his palm.

Did she want to have sex? Could Harry let that happen? There was no way he could because even if they were making progress in whatever this relationship of theirs is, sex was something that still felt out of the question. She just went from accusing him of cheating on her, to being hormonal in the span of ten minutes? It seemed highly unlikely.

Maybe she’s trying to test him. Trying to see how much he can think with his brain and not with his dick. Old Harry probably would’ve taken her right in that ring then and there, but not anymore. He vowed he would do this right. He didn’t want to set themselves back ten steps after just moving two forward.

But, fuck, was she tempting.

When they got to his building, they didn’t share a single word with one another, the tension between them brewing rapidly as they waited for the elevator to reach the lobby.

Side-by-side, shoulder to shoulder, hands grazing together shamelessly as the sexual tension continued to suffocate them. It only got worse when they were inside of the lift, the metal walls reflecting the carnal attraction onto them. It felt like they were stuck in a house fire, smoke building up in their lungs, their chests tightening with each passing second, waiting for the inevitable release to consume them entirely. It felt like they were stuck in a house fire, the flames surrounding them mocking the burning passion that was bubbling in each of their guts, blowing up in their faces the moment those sliding doors opened.

They’re both sober, and they both have full capability of their thoughts and actions, so really nothing was standing in their way, and that made Harry extremely nervous. Because she has no reason to turn against him if something does happen, but worries that maybe she will anyway because this is all a test to gauge his intentions.

But one look at her salacious smile and the way she stood with confidence and determination was enough to sway him.

Harry allowed Stella to step out first, taking the opportunity to absolutely devour her figure this time. He took his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, lowly groaning as he watched her purposely sway her hips in a suggestive manner to taunt him even further. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes darkened as lust consumed her, a little smirk stretching over her face as she watched him drink her in as if she was his favorite drink; and maybe she is.

He tossed her his apartment key the moment they stopped in front of the door, wanting her to do the honors. Though, he made her hesitate as he stepped closer, his front flush against her back, his arms coming up to place his hands on either side of the threshold, trapping her between his broad body and the dark wood.

Fire.

Her head fell back to rest against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as Harry peppered kisses down her neck, trailing across her soft skin continuously, lightly sucking at certain spots he knew would make her squirm. His center came forward, rutting against her behind, as his lips hovered over the shell of her ear, warm breath fanning over her skin, causing chills to rake through her body. “Open the door, Stell.”

She let out a breath, turning her head to face him, eyes glancing down to his glistening pink lips. She looked innocently daring, with soft eyes dangerously dark, and a mouth that was begging to be ruined. Leaning forward, Harry nibbled on her bottom lip, tugging it gently before kissing her fully, his right hand letting go of its death grip on the doorframe and coming to the back of her head, pushing her deeper into him. “D’y’want to give my neighbors a show? Open the door.”

He knew damn well that she was too preoccupied to even think about getting the key in the lock, but that was the fun in seeing her scramble, frantically pushing the key in - first upside down - and pushing the door open. Slamming it shut with his foot and locking it in lightning speed, Harry’s mouth was back on Stella’s, pushing her into the nearby wall, this time going in with a more feverish approach.

His hands came down to her thighs, beckoning her to jump up into his arms, legs wrapped around his middle and pulling him impossibly closer. Squeezing the flesh of her ass, they both moaned in unison as their centers grinded together, pouring gasoline all over the fire they started.

But then in a flash, Harry was setting her down, and then walking further into his apartment. All Stella could do was follow him, breathing erratically and shaking from adrenaline, but mostly confused. “What-”

Sitting himself down on his ebony couch, his legs spreading enough for her body to fit between. They didn’t have to exchange any words for her to understand what he wanted, the magnet between them pulling her closer and closer until she was on her knees in front of him, doe eyes looking up at him through her eyelashes. Her delicate hands laid gentle on his thighs, creeping up to the waistband of his shorts, just missing the growing tent.

His left hand came up to her cheek, his thumb resting on her lips before pushing into her mouth. He let out a small moan at Stella’s obedience, sucking the digit, lapping her tongue over the tip, just like she would a lollipop; or perhaps his cock. Lifting his hips, allowing her to drag his shorts and briefs down his legs, his dick sprung up free from its constraints. The vein along the underside bulged with need as the bright pink tip glistened with precum, desperately needing her mouth encased around it.

“You had a lot to say back at the gym,” Harry started, pushing his thumb deeper past her lips and then pulling it out slowly, admiring the way she followed after him, wanting to keep it inside of her mouth. “Why don’t we put that mouth to better use, hm?”

He wrapped his free hand around his shaft, pumping slowly, watching Stella’s eyes that bounced between his own and his moving hand. “Gonna be my good girl?”

Removing his thumb with a pop, he cradled her head, pushing her hair back behind her ears, momentarily admiring her features. She nodded her head, kissing his palm sweetly, “Aren’t I already, Daddy?”

Smirking down at her, he drew her closer, nearly combusting the moment her lips kissed his bulbous head. Licking a bold stripe from his base up to his tip, she wrapped her lips around him, slowly teasing him by swirling her tongue around him before releasing him and instead, wrapping her own fist around him.

“Missed this. Missed having you in my mouth,” she hummed, then gave him one last kiss before sinking down on him pushing him further and further and further until he was hitting the back of her throat.

Harry loves a lot about Stella. Everything about her, from her looks, to her personality, to her attitude, anything and everything. But right now, he’s completely in love with her lack of gag reflex. Her nose was brushing against his pubic mound and her throat was hugging him tightly, adjusting around his girth, stretching to his will.

“Fucking fuck,” Harry hissed, wrapping her hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding her to bob her head slowly as he continually pushed into her warm tunnel of sensuality. Her nails dug into the flesh of his thighs, leaving little crescent moon shapes in her wake before dragging them down in a slow manner. Harry also always loved when she left her mark on him, whether it be lovebites that littered his neck or scratch marks that led all the way down his back, he was absolutely infatuated with them.

He loved having people know she was the cause of them. He’s one hundred per cent hers and he’s not afraid to show it.

“Tha’s good. You’re s’fucking good,” he moaned, his head lulling to the side as she moved at a quicker pace, pushing him closer and closer to his climax. “Taking daddy so well, lovey. So fucking hot, bulging your throat.”

She peered up at him through her eyelashes, a complete vixen as she focused her sucking on his tip, swirling her tongue along the underside of the crown. Her cheeks hollowed around him, suctioning him deeper into her throat for a few more strokes, edging him closer and closer to his first release of the night.

His shirt had ridden up his stomach a little which allowed for his muscles to be slightly visible. Once they started contracting, it was clear that his orgasm was impending, which only caused Stella to work faster. She also let go of one of his thighs to cup his balls, lightly squeezing them in her palm, watching Harry come undone.

His dick twitched as he uttered words of preparation, “I’m so close, baby. G’na take me in y’mouth?” She blinked up at him expectantly, raising her eyebrows with a hint of confusion because more often than not, he would release down her throat without question.

With a few more bobs of her head and flicks of her tongue, Harry’s cum was shooting to the back of her throat, coating her mouth and even spilling past her lips. She helped him calm down as the last rope spurted out of him, swallowing everything and even licking up the remnants that had dripped down his length.

Once she was done, she sat back on her heels, smiling up at him from the good job she had performed. He let out a breathy laugh as he tossed his shirt off of his body and reached down to bring Stella to straddle him.

Her hands spanned across his abdomen, lightly tracing the butterfly etched into his skin. It was always her favorite one, and one she always loved to admire. The loving moment between them though was soon shattered as Harry’s hand delved into Stella’s shorts and past her underwear to swipe his fingers through her very wet folds.

She bit her lip, softly moaning as his thumb circled against her throbbing clit and his fingers teased her aching hole. “Oh my god…” she whined, rolling her hips forward to gain more traction.

“Absolutely soaking, Stell. Mind if I see?”

Her clothes couldn’t come off fast enough, practically ripping the fabrics to shreds as she hurried to get herself naked, eager to get her own release for the night. Harry positioned her so she laid across his lap, her stomach and breasts pushed into the couch cushion to his right, her hips right above his crotch, allowing him the perfect view of her beautiful cunt and taut ass.

Her arousal dripped out of her, sliding down the inside of her thigh and eventually landing on the top of Harry’s own thigh, almost causing his cock to return to full mast within seconds. Dipping one finger into her, Stella mewled at the feeling, wiggling her hips to urge him to add more and fasten his pace, to which he ignored.

“So tight for me, my good girl,” he sighed, curling his finger inside of her so he was petting her back wall, just missing her g-spot. “Tell me, have you been touching yourself?”

When she hesitated to respond, he removed his finger from her and brought his hand down to smack her skin, mesmerized by the red handprint that he left behind. “I asked you a question.”

“Sometimes,” she whined, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Not like you though. You make me feel s’good, baby.”

Kneading the skin he once hit, he used his free hand to get back to her pussy, this time delving two fingers into her. “Only me?”

“Only you, Daddy.”

Content, he pushed his fingers into her quicker, fucking her harder as he brought down another slap against her behind, hearing the shocked gasp mixed with a throaty groan fly out of her lips at the intense sensation. He knew she absolutely loved when he did that especially when his cock was inside her.

Pushing back onto his fingers to match his pace, her eyes screwed shut the moment he hit that special place inside of her continuously while simultaneously stimulating her little bundle of nerves. “Fuck, don’t stop, please.”

Gently pushing a third finger inside of her, he could feel her walls expand and contract around him adjusting to the additional intrusion easily. The feeling of her molding around his dick was one like no other, and he missed it dearly whenever he thought about her when getting himself off. It was like a sick joke that this was actually his reality for the night. That instead of fantasizing about her, she’s actually in his lap, fucking herself on his fingers.

Harry could tell she was close to her climax as she gripped onto the arm of the couch tightly and curled her toes, her thighs beginning to shake with pleasure. “Shit, shit, holy shit, H.”

“Gonna come all over my fingers? C’mon, harder, Stell. Harder,” he mocked his words from earlier on in the night, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. This time though, he didn’t unleash any inner angry thoughts. Only moans of pleasure.

With a couple more swipes of his thumb on her clit and one more smack against her ass, she came undone on his fingers, muffling her screams into the cushion she was pressed against.

And just like that, she was a ball of mush. Her body gave out on top of him and her face relaxed into a content visage, exhaustion looking much different on her now than it did this morning. This time she looked exhausted because of something good he had done, not bad.

His heartbeat picked up at her softness and cuddly nature, yearning for moments like these more often. Harry swore on his life that he was going to do good by her so he could get more moments like this, and if he went back on it, he was more than willing to off himself.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” he commented after a few moments of silence, bringing his hand up to his mouth to taste how delicious her sweetness is. He moaned at the sensation hitting his tongue, because he nearly forgot how good it was to have her on his taste buds.

Seeing how wiped out she had become, Harry decided it was time to call it a day, whether or not she wanted to go all the way or not. He maneuvered himself out from under her without dropping her to the floor before picking her up bridal style and carrying her to his bedroom. Before he set her down on the bed though, he brought her over to his ensuite bathroom so she could properly get herself ready for bed.

It was proven to be a difficult task because of her clinginess to him, but eventually he managed to get her to brush her teeth and use the toilet before tucking her under the warm covers of his bed. Immediately, she latched herself to his side, using his chest as a pillow and swinging her one leg over his hips, shimmying around until she got into a comfortable position.

With one final kiss to the top of her head, Harry closed his eyes, playing the events of the day over and over again in his head. From therapy to this, he never would’ve guessed it.

But he never would complain, because this is the life. She’s his life.

How could anyone complain about that?

Stella

Harry is heavy in her arms when Stella wakes the next morning. His breathing is hot against her neck, panting and heavy, quiet snores echoing in her ear as he licks his lips and sighs. His shaft is hard against her thigh, and she lets out a breathy laugh at the feeling of him poking her and groaning when she nudges her leg against his groin and rolls over, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and reaching for her shirt at the edge of the bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harry groans, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back towards him, his shaft hard against her backside, his lips touching her neck sweetly. “Thought it was made clear last night that you’re not supposed to have clothes on around me, Stella.”

“That’s a boyfriend privilege, Mr. Styles,” she says, shaking her head and clicking her tongue, reaching for her shirt and bringing it over her torso. Looking over her shoulder, she smiles at him seductively, smirking at the way his lips twitch into a smile and his hand drags over her thigh. “Are you asking me out? That’s the only way you’ll get me naked every day.”

“Pretty sure I’ve been asking you out every day for the last year, Stella.” Harry yawns and lays back against the pillow, rolling his eyes as Stella reaches for her shorts and yanks the material up her legs. “Come back to bed, baby. Least we can do is kiss for a little bit.”

“Can’t stay in bed and kiss or have sex all day, Harry,” she says regretfully, wishing for nothing more than to be doing just that. Having Harry above her, making love to her, with her thighs around his waist and his hands clutching her wrists above her head, pinning her to the bed to have her lay beneath him, is all that she wants, but there are things to do. “Have things to do.”

“Can start the day that way, though,” he hums against her neck, leaving wet kisses along the path of her skin, smirking against her when she hums in his arms. “Makes practice that much better.”

Carefully, Stella turns around in his arms, making sure her flailing limbs don’t knock into his pretty face. Her eyes widen in shock, halfway expecting Harry to up and leave for the day and meet her at the studio later on. Sundays are usually his day off, but knowing how tense things have been, how confusing things have been, the likelihood of him going to the gym is high. After all, in the last two days at least, Harry and Stella have gone from arguing to comforting each other to physically fighting at the damn gym to getting each other off in Harry’s apartment and sleeping together. That’s the best way to get a mental whiplash if Stella could count on it.

“Are you coming to the studio with me?” she wonders, furrowing her eyebrows together in the center of her forehead and squinting her eyes slightly at him, pursing her lips together in a straight line as she waits for him to speak. “I didn’t think you were.”

“That was our deal, wasn’t it?” Stella nods at Harry, whose eyes are still closed, and his arms are still wrapped around her midsection, refusing to let her go. Harry never cared about morning breath or the way her lips were a bit chapped until she went through her morning routine. Harry just wanted her. His Stella. “I’ll be there. Mack can kiss my ass about training on a Sunday.”

Stella ignores the hand that goes to her backside, squeezing lightly, earning a giggle when the hand suddenly comes down and smacks her skin lightly. Her head drops to his shoulder, shaking side to side in faux disapproval, trying to ignore the heat between her thighs. “Telling Mack off; that’s hot.”

“Is that what gets you going now, Stella Grace?” Harry bellows a laugh, shaking his head, nuzzling his nose into her neck and kissing her skin sensually. “Calling me ‘Daddy’, again, is hot, Stell. That’s what gets me going.”

“Knew you’d like that,” Stella smirks, leaning upright and straddling his waist, her hands taking his from her thighs and pinning his wrists above his head, her chest laying on his as she hovers above him. Stella’s voice lowers to a whisper, acting as though no one in the world could possibly hear what she’s about to say to the hard-headed, stubborn, egotistical man beneath her. “Missed me, didn’t you?”

“More than fucking anything, lovey,” Harry whispers, giving his lover total control of the situation, for once, feeling as though they’ve never been so close to doing something as they are, right this very second. Harry wants her, all of her, making love to her and feeling as though they’re back to what they once were, a healthier version – of course – but back to loving each other and being with one another. Harry’s heart can’t take another day where she isn’t his, that much he knows. “I want to be with you, Stella. God, I’m so fucking in love with you. Need you to know that. I’ll wait as long as it fucking takes to be with you. Like I told you last night, you’re it for me, Stella Grace. I’ll do anything for you.”

More than anything, Stella wants to be laying beneath Harry, with her legs wrapped around his waist, making love to him, listening to him confess his love and share it with her over and over again. Stella can nearly imagine the way it feels, to have him inside of her, to have him holding her and sweaty against her skin. Stella’s stomach twists with the thought, her thighs squeezing around Harry’s waist, earning a laugh from him and smack to his chest. “Angie will have my head if I’m late. Yours, too. Don’t think she’s very happy with us, right now.”

“Move your shorts a little and we’ll get a move on, then. Can feel how hot you are from here, Stella Grace. My lovey,” Harry smirks, grabbing at her hands, interlocking their fingers, and rolling their bodies over, having enough of her in control and laying her beneath him. “Gi’ me just a little taste of it, Stell.”

Stella wants to. God, Stella wants to have Harry fuck her into oblivion like she knows he will. That can’t happen before rehearsal, though. Unfortunately for Stella, and for Harry, that can’t happen before she has to be on her feet and her legs for hours and be completely present mentally. “Not before rehearsal, Styles,” she sterns, shaking her head and wiggling her hands out of his grasp. “Harry, you’ll fog up my brain and it’ll fuck me over. The last thing I need is to fall and hurt myself during practice, today.”

“Oh, so you’d be dick-matized, if you will,” Harry chuckles, letting her wrists go and leaning towards her face to sneak another kiss. Harry’s kiss is slow and languid, as though she’ll be leaving him, again, and he isn’t sure when he’ll be graced with another. Stella doesn’t think she can go more than twenty minutes without feeling his lips on hers, and the likelihood that practice will be interrupted by a water break and a kiss is high considering he’ll be there, this time. “Haven’t slept together in over a year, Stell, and you still remember what I can do to you, hm? That’s what making your thighs clench together, isn’t it?”

“Fuck off,” she says, feeling her thighs clench around nothing, again, and wetness pool inside her shorts. Harry knows how to get her going, it’s quite easy after being together for more than a year, and it’s the same things that still get her, to this day. Stella’s missed this, the banter, the back and forth, and the teasing, with Harry, and she hopes that if they’re relationship begins to change again, maybe for the better this time, that this is how it’ll be always. “Go get dressed.”

“Got it, Miss Stella.”

Harry kisses her cheek sweetly, breathing in her scent swiftly, before climbing off of her and towards his dresser in the corner of his bedroom, pulling out a pair of shorts and a shirt from the gym to wear for the day. Harry isn’t sure when he’ll make it to the gym, if he will at all, and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t really care. He hasn’t been this close to Stella in such a long time – beyond their weekly walks and going out with friends, all that is superficial comparatively to what they’ve been doing in the last twenty-four hours – that being around her is intoxicating.

Harry yanks out her old shorts and shirts from his bottom drawer, tucked away neatly and cleanly, as though he’s been waiting for this very moment when he would need the clothing for her. Stella sighs audibly. “Harry.”

Harry knows what she’s going to say before the syllable has even left her perfect lips. “Stella, you can’t say that you never thought we’d get back together. Told me yourself. Can’t blame me for keeping your things, either.”

“That’s not what I meant, H. Take a breath, I wasn’t saying it for you to get defensive,” she says, swinging her legs over the side of his mattress, walking towards his hunched over figure reaching into his dresser and wrapping her arms around his midsection, her mouth gently touching kisses along his shoulder blades and soothingly running a hand over his waist. “Thank you for keeping my things.”

Harry gets defensive so easily, it’s something he’s working on in therapy. He doesn’t like to talk about his childhood, especially not his mother and father, to the extent that not even his lovey knows everything that went on as a child. Certainly, Harry doesn’t mean to take it out on Stella, though. That’s the last thing that Harry wants to do. “I’m sorry, Stella.”

“Apology accepted,” she smiles against his back, kissing between his shoulders and gently patting his thigh. “Go get dressed and do your thing in the bathroom. I’ll stay in here and wait my turn.”

“Can’t I ogle you a bit longer? I’ll behave myself.”

“Harry Styles, you? Behave yourself? Only in my wildest dreams,” she teases, quirking her eyebrows upwards into her forehead and giggling when he shrugs his shoulders with a devilish smirk on his face. “What is it, Harry?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Harry smirks, turning around in Stella’s arms, grabbing her cheeks and kissing her sweetly, taking her by surprise when his mouth meets hers. Harry mutters against her mouth, “Like knowing that I’m in your dreams, Stell. Makes me know you love me.”

Stella rolls her eyes at Harry’s comment, her cheeks flushing under the lights and shining sun streaming in through his bedroom window, the statement not meant to become a confession of love. Harry smirks, regretfully releasing her from his grasp and walking into the bathroom, leaving her in shock beside his bedside.

Stella loves Harry. Of course, Stella loves Harry. Stella has loved Harry for a very long time, since before they were dating and they were only friends, three years ago. There wasn’t one moment that Stella could pinpoint as the moment she knew she loved him. There wasn’t an instant revelation or a singular moment for Stella, that she swears by. Stella says it was gradual, over time, showing that no one else compared to the man that kissed her in the dark beneath their bed sheets and held her hand in the bar and told everyone that this was, she was, ‘His Stella’, that introduced her proudly and made her feel like she was walking on Cloud Nine. There was a moment in particular, though, that stood out always to her, that made her know that this was the person that she loves unconditionally. Maybe that was the moment Stella knew she loved Harry.

Harry was fighting, as usual, but the man opposite him, his opponent for the evening, was much larger than he was. He was, maybe, five or six inches taller, well over a hundred pounds heavier, and his gloves looked like they were the size of Harry’s face. Harry was in the locker room, prepping for the fight, having Stella, his lovey, slide on his gloves, giving him a kiss for good luck. Stella was panicking, shaking, nervousness wracking through her body as she stared intimidated by the opponent. His fight wouldn’t last long, she thought, and she anxiously waited for Harry to get a swift punch to the jaw and be down and out, calling her name and having her come by his side in the ring after the fight is called. Only, Harry was knocking the poor guy left and right, his skills clearly no match for the champion, a swift punch and a hook to the man’s stomach and face and he was on the ground, waiting for the announcer to call it. Stella was shaking from her place on the sidelines, unable to fully comprehend what had happened in the last three minutes. Harry’s face was bruising already from the singular punch the man had made, and she wanted nothing more than to sit on his thighs and kiss it better. Harry rushed over and was gushing about the fight, about how he wasn’t even nervous because she was there and how happy he was that she made it, and she kissed him, suddenly and without warning, in front of all their friends, and she felt something in her stomach, a twist, a swell of something in her chest, that made her feel all warm inside, all happy, and she wanted the feeling to stay for the rest of her life. Could it be that it was his excitement, his happiness, his gratitude for her in that moment that made her so aware of it? Surely. All Stella knew was that she could’ve blurted out ‘I love you’ and it would’ve been true.

“Earth to Stella.”

“Hm.” Stella immediately snaps back to reality, her eyes moving towards Harry standing in front of her, his hands on his hips, his body adorning the most tight-fitting shirt and sweats that he could possibly wear to taunt her. Stella’s mind wanders to how easy it would be to yank the sweats down his thighs and take him into her mouth, her favorite thing about their intimacy being how vulnerable he becomes with his moans and his talk. Harry is always so calculated and measured when it comes to her, trying to make sure that he doesn’t do anything wrong, that sometimes it’s really nice to see him become undone because of her, all because of her, her only. “Think I have time to get you off before we leave?” she wonders, already sliding her hands around the waistband of her sweats and tugging the material down.

Calculating everything, the time it takes Stella to get ready, the time it takes to get to the studio, the inevitable come down once Harry’s finished with this orgasm, they’ll barely make it in time if they do this. Harry doesn’t really want to say no, though.

Harry’s eyes widen and his mouth becomes dry, swallowing whatever saliva has cultivated in his mouth and sighing a deep breath out through his already parted lips. “’scuse me?”

“Heard me loud and clear.”

Harry gulps, suddenly feeling very hot and bothered and wanting his sweats down his thighs. His hand gently reaches outward and grabs her cheeks, kissing her sweetly, smirking at the way her hands work towards bringing his sweatpants down his legs. Harry loves her. Harry loves her so much. If this is how she wants to start their day, then who is Harry to disagree?

* * *

Angie is standing at the entrance when they walk in, hand-in-hand, Harry following closely behind as Stella looks bashfully at her dance teacher and smiles softly. Stella isn’t sure what to say, especially to the woman she cried to about this man. Angie looks at her with a knowing look, one that reminds her of her mother, and nods towards the back of the studio, Stella releasing Harry’s hand and walking back with her quietly. Harry grabs her wrist and kisses her cheek, smiling shyly yet comfortingly, telling her with his eyes that he’s there for her, no matter what.

Angie walks to the back of the studio, pulling Stella into the bathroom and shutting the door behind them. Her voice is barely above a whisper, “Are you two, you know, together, again?”

“I’m not sure,” Stella says honestly, shrugging her shoulders and sighing deeply. “We’re working on things, right now. Harry’s working on himself. It’s clear to me, now. I spent the night with him last night and it was nice. Things felt right, like how they’re supposed to be. I think I’m supposed to be with him.”

“Are you happy with that?”

Stella looks at Angie with tears in her eyes, smiling and nodding, “I think I am.”

“Okay, baby,” Angie smiles protectively, wrapping her in a hug and squeezing tightly. “You only have an hour, today. You need a break. Go over that combination a few more times and then run it all together.”

“Okay.” Stella grabs the door handle, twisting it, ready to walk out. Turning around suddenly, she says, “Angie, thank you for looking out for me. Always looking out for me and being a fan of mine. It means so much to me.”

“Anytime, baby.”

Stella walks out and smiles at Harry, connecting her phone to the dock and turning on the song that means so much to her, her heart squeezing at the way he takes a seat against the mirror and smiling widely at her, his eyes lighting up with the sound of the music playing. “This is about you.”

“Is it?”

“Unfortunately, it’s from when I didn’t like you very much,” she laughs, sliding on her shoe and beginning to walk to the center of the floor.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Stell,” Harry laughs, shaking his head and leaning back against the mirror, tucking his feet under his legs and staring at her intently as she starts rehearsing.

Harry always loved watching Stella dance. He said that it was his version of boxing. The way she looked, the way she felt, the way everything made sense when she was dancing. He always took notice of the little things, the intricate details, the way she moved her hands and her arms and the way her body moved in her extensions. Harry never took his eyes off her. Stella is magical to him. Stella is purely magic.

Until something happens.

Calypso. Aerial. Calypso. Aerial. Calypso. Aerial. Stella was doing her combination. Stella was doing her combination and something happened. Something bad. And everything good that happened in the last twenty four hours flashes before Harry’s eyes as soon as he sees Stella headed for the ground, hard and fast. He heard a crack mid-air, a snap heard around the studio as she fell to the ground, falling helplessly out of her leap.

“Stella!”

Harry rushes over to her, clutching her head in his hands and talking to her. Stella can hear Harry talking and Angie calling the doctor that the competition team uses at the studio. Harry is trying to talk to her but her eyes are squeezed shut, clutching onto her ankle and tears are spilling out of her eyes in pain.

“Stella, baby, look at me,” Harry says softly, trying desperately hard to get her attention. “Stella Grace, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Stella can hear Harry, and she wants to believe him, but the way her ankle feels, the way her stomach is twisted into a knot, there’s no way to know for sure.

“Stella, are you okay?”

And the world goes suddenly black.

[matildashoney]

𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 // 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 // 𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Stella Smalls and Harry Styles, two big names in a small town. Stella Smalls, a principal dancer at Motionhouse Dance Company, is training to compete in the World Dance Movement, an international dance competition with her partner, River Daniels, whom Harry Styles graciously dislikes. Harry Styles, who is training for his second international title, is struggling to find a balance between missing his lucky star and being the best fighter in the world. River is surprisingly confronted by someone Stella knows all too well - a certain someone still waiting for her return - and quits the competition three months before the show. Leaving Harry to be forced with an ultimatum of a lifetime: dance with Stella or leave Stella alone for good.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

𝐨𝐧𝐞 // 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 // 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

[matildashoney]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦 // 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

Leaning back in his chair, and uncrossing his legs, Dr Rier implored, “Let’s back-track a little bit. When her dance partner confronted you, did you feel threatened?”

“Threatened? Not a chance,” Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Not physically. When he said you were bad for Stella, did you feel… panic? Did hearing him say that scare you?”

Shifting in his seat, mindlessly twirling the few rings clad on his bruised fingers. It’s not often that Harry feels scared over anything. Pathetic films that are meant to terrify the audience were a joke to him; someone reprimanding him for doing something he shouldn’t have felt more like a pat on the shoulder; even the toughest opponents in the ring that looked like they could squash his head between their biceps played no part in the nightmares he would face. The only thing that frightened him, that made a chill go down his spine, that caused nausea to slowly creep up his throat, was the idea of never seeing Stella again. 

So when River spewed the cutthroat words that slashed a gash through his brain, “You’re bad for her. Can’t you see that?” the only thing Harry could feel, was scared. “Uh- I guess. I definitely didn’t like it.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

“‘Scuse me?” Harry hissed, narrowing his eyes slightly and scrunching his eyebrows together tightly.

Dr. Rier shrugged, tilting his head slightly, not at all intimidated. “You heard me.” 

Harry started seeing the doctor a month prior. He and Stella had a little fight over something that was completely useless, so much so that he can’t even remember what they were fighting about. But in the midst of that fight Stella had said something to him that shook him to his core, and was enough of a wake up call for him to realize that he needs help.

That night he looked up therapists near him, because he knew he had problems he needed fixed, but he was always so egocentric to have anything done about it. It was then that the idea of her leaving him fermented itself inside of his brain, and he knew he couldn’t let that happen. So, the only way to keep her was to figure out his shit.

Of course he knows he’s bad for her. But he’s trying so hard to change that.

“Yeah. And that’s what scares me, because I want to be good for her, Doc. I need to be good.”

taglist: @temptressstyles, @clumsywithlove93, @reveriehs, @harrys-cherrry, @stylesandshit, @faithietheory, @doubtfulwelshie, @meetmymouth​, @maplemanlover, @morethanamelodyy​, @mckenzieclaire​, @nevertoooldtodancelikeamanic, @rainbowparadiseharry​, @glitterandharry​, @millenial-teenybopper, @6616617228, @burberryharold​, @jesusidontcare1, @summertimestyles​​

[matildashoney]

smile/any word that means smile

from tiny dancer that’s coming soon!

Stella begrudgingly sets their things in the locker, oblivious to the buzzing that’s vibrating from her phone, and hurries to Harry across the locker room floor, smirking as he says, “That’s my girl. My Stella.”

[matildashoney]

Hi!!! Do you know when “Tiny Dancer” will be updated?

hiiii! i'm going to write some of tiny dancer, this weekend, so hopefully next week!

[matildashoney]

I just read the first chapter of tiny dancer! Harry is such a little shit. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to be so... toxic?? Ugh 😩 stella’s proposition at the end though!! I’m so excited to see where their story goes and crossing my fingers that Harry will have a major character development. You’re writing is amazing as usual. Thank you for sharing your work with us! 🥺

UGH, YES, HE IS! STELLA’S PROPOSITION! THE END ALL BE ALL! HARRY’S DEVELOPMENT IS GOING TO BE EVERYTHING WE WANT! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

[matildashoney]

happy

from tiny dancer, featuring miss stella!

“God dammit,” she grumbles, wiping the sweat on her forehead on her hand and brushing her bangs away from her skin, heaving out a heavy breath and leaning over her knees, taking a minute to catch her breath. Her legs ache with how much she’s been practicing, and she’s happy to have the night off.

[matildashoney]

Now 👀

FIVE MINUTES, HEHE!

[matildashoney]

HOLY SHIT TINY DANCER IS AMAZING GOOD WORK BESTIE!!!!

HEY!! THANK YOU BESTIE!!!! I LOVE WRITING FOR STELLA SO MUCH!!! TINY DANCER IS SO MUCH FUN FOR US!! YOU SHOULD SEND THIS TO GIANNA TOO!!! GIANNA WRITES ALL HARRY’S PARTS SO WELL!!!!

[matildashoney]

How did I also miss the start of Tiny Dancer!? I’m absolutely floored by that intro and can’t wait to see where it goes next. I think it’s funny how H thinks everything revolves around Stella (perhaps because he’s always thinking of her) but actually some of his actions revolve around what would make him feel best in the ‘relationship’ or situation. And also the symmetry between when we first meet H practicing moves and first meet Stella practicing moves is just beautiful. Thank you for sharing with us!

HIIII, AGAIN! YOU’RE FLOORED, OH MY GOD. THANK YOU SO MUCH. GIANNA AND I WORKED REALLY HARD ON THE FIRST CHAPTER TO MAKE IT EVERYTHING IT NEEDED TO BE FOR AN OPENER AND TO INTRODUCE THE CHARACTERS AND THEIR PERSONALITIES. H DEFINITELY HAS SOME NARCISSTIC TENDENCIES ABOUT HIM, RIGHT NOW, BUT WE’LL SEE THAT HE’S WORKING ON IT! AND YES! THE PARALLELS BETWEEN THEM BOTH PRACTICING! IT’S THERE! THANK YOU FOR READING AND LOVING IT!

[matildashoney]

Pleaseeeee add me to the tag list of tiny dancer ajsdkksksjskksks

absolutely, lovey! thank you for reading!

[matildashoney]

🧸 CAITLIN OH MY GOD i got to read tiny dancer and wow. honestly just wow, i’m speechless. you had me on the edge of my seat i was so absorbed. the writing was fantastic, i could feel every emotion harry and stella were feeling. i’m so unbelievable excited for this story, i already love it with all my heart. (also super excited to see harry -hopefully- dance with stella!!) 💕

MY LOVE! I’M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED IT! GIANNA AND I ARE HAVING SO MUCH FUN WITH IT! STELLA IS SUCH A BADASS, ISN’T SHE? I’M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED READING AND YOU WERE INVESTED AND EVERYTHING YOU FELT WAS THERE. IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME. THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

[matildashoney]

Hi! Can I be put on the taglist for Tiny Dancer please

you’re on it! thank you!

[matildashoney]

Can i be added to the taglist for tiny dancer?🥺

absolutely, you can!

[matildashoney]

Hi, I just stumbled upon Tiny Dancer and I love it so much! I like that youre showing Harry working to be better for her, hopefully he will realize that he is a dick soon lol .. Also hope nothing awful happened to Stella :( can't wait to see where you will take this story!

AHHH! THANK YOU SO MUCH! GIANNA AND I ARE SO EXCITED TO GET THE LAST CHAPTER OUT VERY SOON! THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT IS SO GOOD! WE LOVE TO SEE IT!

[matildashoney]

Ahh I’m so sorry, it’s been a hectic few days so I saved Tiny Dancer as a treat for myself. I’m so impressed with how much effort Harry is already putting in and the fact that he’s going to therapy (we do love normalising therapy, go on king). But I feel he’s going to need to confront whatever this is with his family / parents to continue his growth! AND he kept her clothes, that was very cute ✨

normalizing therapy! we love to see our characters do it! adding on to what you said, yes, harry certainly is going to have to confront whatever demons lurk with his family and how that impacts his relationship with stella, because it certainly is going to take a toll on their future together, if he doesn’t. the way he kept her clothes made my heart melt. it’s certainly something stella’s harry would do, you know? very in his character. 

thank you so much for reading! we can’t wait for you to see the next part!