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xcqmsr · 2 days ago

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you sunshine, you temptress

pairings harry styles x fem!reader

warnings arguing, crying, tiny angst, established relationship, harry calls reader his sunshine, kissing, having kids, english isn’t my first language!

wc 5.4k

Unbelievably quiet day in London. A silence that rarely graced the ever-humming city had fallen like a woolen blanket over the streets. Clouds hung low, heavy and gray, but the air was oddly still—just the occasional lazy breeze that wandered between buildings, shuffling leaves and nudging scarves. That same breeze played mischievously with Harry’s curls, tugging at them like a child seeking attention. He gave an irritated huff, trying to smooth the mess with one hand.

Failing, he pulled his dark blue beanie down over his ears, tucking away the disobedient locks. The beanie was old, the hem stretched and soft from use, but comforting—like armor against the day. His nose, red from the cold, sniffled once as he turned the corner and stepped into Rosie’s Blooms, the familiar bell above the door tinkling softly.

The warmth inside wrapped around him instantly. The sharp but pleasant scent of freshly cut stems, damp earth, and perfume greeted him like a memory. A small heater buzzed faintly from under the counter. Behind it stood Rosie, her face blooming like one of her roses the moment she saw him. Her silvery-white hair was swept into a loose bun, and she wore her usual floral apron covered in smudges of green and pink.

“Oh my sweet child!” she cried, stepping forward slightly, her voice a melodic blend of scolding and affection. “You’ll catch cold wandering out like that with half a scarf and that ridiculous hat. Come now—tea?”

“No, no tea today,” Harry mumbled, offering her a crooked smile. His green eyes, wide and warm even in his embarrassment, met hers for only a moment. “Just… the usual. Please.”

Rosie gave him a knowing look. Her hands were already moving, selecting stems with the grace of a violinist tuning her instrument.

“A fight. Again.”

The words came out barely above a whisper, as if saying them louder would give them more power than he could handle. He looked down at his hands, the cuticles chewed, the fingers still trembling slightly with leftover frustration.

“Mmm,” Rosie murmured, gently snipping a stem. “Same one as last time?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell again, broken only by the snip of scissors, the soft rustle of petals.

“She thinks I don’t listen. That I disappear into my own head when she needs me present. And maybe she’s right.”

He let out a dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I get overwhelmed, you know? She says something small and it echoes in my head, gets louder, warps into something else. Then I panic, shut down, say something stupid. Something I don’t mean.”

Rosie looked up from the bouquet and gave him a soft glance, eyes filled with more understanding than words could hold.

“Love’s not easy, Harry. It’s messy. It digs up the worst parts of us, the scared little bits we try to hide. But if it’s real, if it’s worth it—” she tucked a sprig of eucalyptus between the dahlias “—then we fight for it. Not just with flowers, mind you.

He nodded, taking her words like medicine. He remembered the fight in flashes..

Her voice cracking as she said she felt alone, even when he was right there. His silence, colder than any insult. Her walking out of the room, not slamming the door, just quietly closing it. Somehow that hurt more. He hadn’t followed. Not then. Just sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, cursing himself.

And now here he was. Again.

“She likes white tulips,” Harry said suddenly, watching Rosie adjust the arrangement.

“I remember,” Rosie replied with a gentle smile. “Means forgiveness. Good choice.”

He watched as she added three tall tulips, crisp and elegant, among the blooms. There were soft blush roses too—her absolute favorite—and the purple lisianthus she once said reminded her of childhood summers. Rosie’s fingers moved like a weaver, binding not just flowers, but hope.

“You always remember what she likes,” Harry said softly.

“Because you always come back for her.”

He looked at her then. Really looked. She wasn’t just a florist. Not to him. She had become something like a confessor, a constant, someone who understood that flowers weren’t just decoration—they were language, apology, offering.

She wrapped the bouquet in cream paper, tied with a thin lavender ribbon.

“You’ll tell her what’s in your heart this time?”

Harry hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m ready to stop being afraid of being known.”

Rosie passed the bouquet over the counter. “Good. Because I think she’s ready to hear it.”

He left the shop, the cold air brushing his cheeks like a warning, or a push. The weight of the bouquet in his arms felt like carrying something fragile but essential. He decided to take a train. The drive to her flat wasn’t long, but he took his time. With every station, he rehearsed what he’d say—not a perfect speech, just the truth. That he was sorry. That he was trying. That he loved her. When he reached the door, he stood there for a moment. Breathing. The sound of distant traffic hummed behind him, but in his chest, it was quiet. He lifted his hand and knocked. The knock was soft. Too soft. Harry stood there for a second longer, then cleared his throat and raised his hand again, this time letting his knuckles land a little more firmly against the wood. The cold bit at his ears, even under the beanie, but his palms were sweating.

He could hear faint movement inside. A shifting floorboard. A pause. Then the sound of a lock turning. The door opened slowly, no more than a few inches at first. And then there she was.

She didn’t speak. Just stood there in her oversized cardigan—his cardigan, actually, the navy one he always left draped over the arm of the couch. Her hair was pulled back in a loose, tired knot. No makeup, no pretense. Just her.

His Sunshine.

Her gaze dropped to the bouquet in his hands, and something in her expression softened, though her mouth stayed in a line. She stepped back without a word, holding the door wider, a quiet invitation. Harry entered slowly. The hallway smelled like her. Like honey and vanilla and the old wooden floors she refused to replace because she said they had “personality.” He moved past the framed photos, all memories he was a part of: a blurry polaroid of them eating ice cream in winter, a beach trip where the wind had caught her hair just right. A snapshot of her hugging him from behind, his eyes squinting, mid-laugh.

She closed the door behind them. Didn’t speak.

“I brought your favorites,” he said quietly, holding out the bouquet like an offering. His voice cracked.

She took the flowers wordlessly, fingers brushing his for a fleeting second. That single touch nearly buckled his knees.

He followed her into the kitchen, where the kettle was already whistling on the stove. She poured them both a cup without asking—black for him, chamomile for her—and slid one mug across the counter.

Only then did she finally look at him properly.

“So.” Her voice was quiet, but not cold.

Harry blinked. His throat closed for a moment. “So,” he echoed, lamely.

She leaned against the counter, holding the mug close to her chest. “You walked out in the middle of me telling you how I felt.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s not the first time, Harry.”

“I know.”

He put his mug down, untouched. “I panicked. I always panic. It’s not an excuse, I’m just—trying to explain. It’s like I get so scared of saying the wrong thing that I just say nothing. And then that becomes the wrong thing. And I know how it hurts you. I see it. I see your face, and I hate myself for it.”

Her eyes didn’t leave his. “You looked right through me. Like I wasn’t even there.”

His chest ached. “You are always there. You’re the only thing that’s always there. You’re the only thing I look for when everything else is noise.”

Silence.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Carefully, he unfolded it, revealing a messy scrawl of handwriting.

“I wrote this on the train back. I don’t… I’m not good at saying what I mean. But I thought, maybe, if I write it—”

She took the paper gently. Her fingers trembled slightly as she read. It wasn’t long. It didn’t need to be.

“Sunshine,

You deserve someone who doesn’t shut down every time it gets hard. You deserve someone who listens the first time, not after the third fight. I’m not always that person. But I want to be.

I love you. More than I know how to say. I’ll keep trying to be better. I promise I’ll keep trying.

Don’t give up on me yet.

Yours, H.”

When she finished reading, her wide eyes met his again. “I love you too, you idiot,” she said, her voice cracking for the first time. “That’s the problem. That’s why it hurts so much.”

Harry stepped forward. “Can I—?”

She nodded before he could finish the question. He wrapped his arms around her and held her like something precious. She melted into him, arms looping around his waist, face pressed into his chest. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed her in, like oxygen. “I’m scared,” he whispered. “So am I.”

“I’m going to mess up again.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But maybe you’ll mess up a little better next time.” They both laughed, just a little. She pulled back and looked up at him.

“Sit with me?”

“Always.”

They moved to the living room. She curled up on the couch, legs tucked under her, and he sat close enough that their knees touched. The bouquet sat in a vase nearby, already looking like it belonged. She toyed with the edge of her sleeve. “You used to call me your Sunshine all the time.” “I still do.” “You haven’t lately.”

He reached out and gently took her hand. “I stopped saying it out loud, but I didn’t stop thinking it. Not for a second.”

She didn’t respond right away. But her hand didn’t pull away either. She squeezed his fingers.

“Tell me why,” she said finally. “Tell me why you love me.”

He blinked, surprised. “You want me to—”

“Yes. Just… say it. Not in your head. Not on paper.”

So he did.

“I love the way you take your tea like it’s a ritual. The way you can’t pass a dog without greeting it like an old friend. I love that you cry during commercials. I love how you remember birthdays—not just mine, but Rosie’s, and my cousin’s, and that grumpy neighbor from three flats down.”

She was smiling now, eyes wide and wet.

“I love the way your hands shake when you’re angry. I love that you always pick the ugliest wrapping paper because you say ‘no one wants a gift to look intimidating.’ I love how your laugh sounds when you’re not trying to hide it.”

He leaned in. “I love that even when you’re mad at me—even when I deserve it—you still make me tea. You still wait for me to come home.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and he wiped one away with his thumb.

“You’re my Sunshine,” he whispered. “Even when I’m the storm.”

She didn’t say anything, not for a long time. She just looked at him like she was trying to memorize the moment.

Then she kissed him.

Soft. Long. Forgiving.

When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.

“You’re not easy to love,” she said gently. “But neither am I. So maybe we make it work by not giving up on each other.”

Harry nodded. “Deal.”

She got up and fetched a blanket from the armchair, then returned to the couch and nestled into his side, pulling the blanket over them both. He wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder. They sat there in the hush of their little flat, the city muffled outside, the bouquet fresh and full on the table. The tea cooled. The silence no longer felt like a punishment, but a peace.

Eventually, she spoke again. “You’re staying tonight.” It wasn’t a question. He kissed the top of her head. “I never wanted to leave.” She smiled, eyes closed. “Then don’t.”

It had been eleven months and thirteen days since Harry had knocked on her door with a bouquet in hand and fear in his chest. Since then, he had knocked in many other ways—small gestures, gentle questions, staying when it was easier to leave. And she had opened the door every time.

They had learned each other’s silences.

They had also learned that love didn’t mean never raising your voice. It meant raising it and still sitting down to dinner after. It meant apologizing—not just once, but every time it mattered.

Now, the quiet between them was safe. It didn’t carry weight. It allowed space.

On an early Sunday morning, with sunlight leaking across the bedroom floor like spilled honey, Harry woke before her. He always did, now. She liked to sleep in, curled around one of the throw pillows, her breathing deep and even. He had once told her she looked like a painting then—untouchable, timeless—and she had laughed, then kissed his forehead and said, “Stop being poetic and bring me coffee.”

Today, he didn’t bring coffee.

He just watched her. Her hair spread out on the pillow. That little line between her brows that always softened when she dreamed. Her wide eyes were closed, but he could still see every memory they held.

They had moved in together in April, after weeks of casually forgetting to leave each other’s flats. A plant here. A sweater there. Eventually, Harry had brought over his books and said, “So, should I just… stop pretending I live somewhere else?”

She’d only nodded and handed him a drawer.

———

Now, their flat was filled with mismatched mugs, framed movie posters, and soft blankets she insisted he didn’t need but secretly loved. The coffee table still had that dent from the time they tried to assemble a bookshelf while drinking wine. Neither of them had the heart to replace it.

He shifted slightly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. She stirred.

“Mm. What time is it?”

“Too early for real humans.”

“Mmmph,” she muttered, burrowing into the pillow. “You’re a menace.”

He smiled. “I know. Want coffee?”

“Only if you deliver it with a kiss.”

“I was planning to do that anyway.”

Later, after breakfast—eggs slightly overcooked, toast a bit burnt but enthusiastically buttered—they sat on the fire escape with their mugs. The city moved gently around them, like a cat stretching in sun. Pigeons waddled across the roof nearby. A child laughed somewhere down the block.

Harry nudged her foot with his.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous,” she teased, sipping her coffee.

He grinned. “Yeah. Still. I’ve been thinking… we’re good, right?”

She looked at him, really looked. Not just at his face, but into it. His eyes still held the same green warmth, the same flicker of self-doubt. But there was something steadier now, too.

“We’re better than good,” she said softly.

“I still think about that night.”

She nodded. “Me too.”

“I think about how close I came to screwing it all up.”

“You did screw it up,” she said with a smile. “But you fixed it.”

“I’m going to mess up again. Eventually.”

“I know,” she said. “So will I.”

There was a pause, not awkward but sacred.

“I’m not scared like I used to be,” he added. “Of being known.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “That’s what love does. It drags you into the light.”

They stayed there a while, the city humming gently around them.

———

But of course, life isn’t just lazy Sundays and kisses over toast. Three months later, they fought again. It was stupid. It always was. A forgotten dinner plan. A careless joke. A tired comment. This time, it hit differently. He had been working late. She had been waiting. And when he came home, phone dead, her face was pale and furious.

“You said you’d be home by eight.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I lost track of time—”

“You always lose track of time, Harry. You lose track of me.”

That did it. Something flared inside him, old and defensive.

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is sitting at a table for an hour, checking my phone every five minutes like an idiot.”

Her voice broke at the end, and it felt like being stabbed with a spoon: dull but deep. He wanted to defend himself. To tell her she was overreacting. That he had work. That he was trying. But instead, he took a breath. A slow, painful breath.

“I should’ve called,” he said. “Even just a text. I’m sorry.”

She blinked. Surprised.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he added. “You waited for me, and I didn’t show up. I get it. That sucks.” The anger in her face melted into hurt, then into something softer.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For not making me feel crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” he said. “You’re just in love with someone who sometimes disappears in his own head.” She walked over and wrapped her arms around him, forehead pressed to his chest.

“Don’t disappear,” she whispered.

“I won’t. Not again.” They held each other. No one said anything for a long time. Eventually, he pulled back and looked at her.

“I’ve got something,” he said, fumbling in his pocket. She raised an eyebrow. “If this is a snack, I forgive you forever.”

He laughed nervously.

It wasn’t a snack.

It was a small box.

Not velvet. Not perfect. But very, very Harry.

Her wide eyes locked onto his, and suddenly the air went still.

“I’m not asking now,” he said quickly. “I just… I wanted to show you. That I’m thinking about it. That I’m not going anywhere.” She stared at the box, then at him. Her mouth parted slightly, and her eyes shimmered.

“You’re serious?”

“I’ve never been more.”

She took the box, didn’t open it. Just held it close.

“Okay,” she said, voice shaking.

“Okay?”

She smiled. “Ask me when it’s raining. You know I love the rain.”

“Deal,” he whispered.

And just like that, they were them again.

———

It was raining on a Tuesday. Not the kind of soft drizzle that painted windows, but the full-hearted kind that danced on rooftops and overflowed gutters. Sunshine had always said it was her favorite weather—“the world washing itself clean,” she once called it. Harry stood under the awning of their corner café, holding a paper bag with two still-warm pastries and a takeaway coffee that was already beginning to cool in his hand. He watched the raindrops splatter against the sidewalk, his thumb running over the edge of the small box in his coat pocket. She was late. Not unusually so—she got distracted by bookstores, pigeons, buskers. Life itself. That’s what he loved about her. He didn’t plan to do it today. He had imagined candles or a violinist. Maybe even a beach trip. But now, watching the storm rage on and feeling that ache in his chest, he couldn’t wait anymore. She came into view through the blur of falling water. Hair drenched, cardigan clinging to her frame, cheeks flushed. She ran the last few feet and ducked under the awning with a breathless laugh.

“You’re soaked,” Harry said.

“So are you.”

“Not as beautifully.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop flirting with me, I’m a taken woman.”

“Are you?”

She looked up. Confused, then curious.

Harry pulled the box from his pocket and got down on one knee—still under the awning, but the wetness of the rain found his knees anyway.

She gasped. Hands to her face. Tears already mixing with raindrops on her cheeks.

“I love you in every storm,” he said. “Every fight, every silence, every morning-after. I love you in the quiet. I love you in the thunder. And I want to love you for every tomorrow I’m lucky enough to get.”

He opened the box.

“So,” he whispered. “Will you be my forever Sunshine?”

She couldn’t speak at first. Just nodded. And then, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He slid the ring on her finger, and she tackled him in a hug so forceful they both ended up in the rain, soaked to the skin and laughing. He kissed her like they hadn’t already lived a hundred lifetimes together. And in that kiss, they wrote the first word of their forever.

___

Mornings in the house were loud before they were bright.

It usually started with Theo—now seven—thudding down the hall like a boy with very important missions. Today, it was “rescuing” his stuffed astronaut from under the couch, where it had fallen during a daring space mission the night before. Rowan, five and full of opinions, followed closely behind with a superhero cape and a suspiciously sticky face. He believed in dragons, didn’t trust cucumbers, and routinely tried to convince June to call him “Captain Danger. June, now two, was the chaos personified. A tiny hurricane in mismatched socks, she could destroy a bookshelf in 30 seconds and had the most angelic laugh doing it. Her vocabulary included “no,” “mine,” and “more toast,” with equal intensity. Harry stood in the kitchen, hair messy, making pancakes with one hand and pouring orange juice with the other. Sunshine leaned against the counter, sipping coffee, smiling at the controlled madness. The radio played quietly in the background, some old jazz tune that Harry swore they danced to once in Paris.

“Dad, Rowan said I can’t be on the moon crew!” Theo shouted from the living room.

“You ate the moon, Theo!” Rowan shouted back.

“I was hungry!”

His sunshine sighed into her mug. “You get Theo, I’ll get Rowan.”

“Deal.”

They moved through their morning choreography with a grace that only came from years of repetition and love. Breakfast, lost socks, forgotten library books. Kisses on foreheads. Hairbrushes wrestling with curls. Juice spills. Laughter. Screams. Apologies. Do-overs. Sometimes, Harry stood in the hallway and just watched it all—like a man seeing color for the first time. Later that day, while June napped and the boys built a fort out of blankets and ambition, Sunshine found Harry on the back steps, sketching in a notebook.

He looked up. “I drew the house again.”

“You always draw the house.”

“I like drawing what I never thought I’d have.”

She sat beside him, legs tucked under herself. “It’s messy.”

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

They didn’t speak for a while. The sun dipped low, and the shadows of the trees danced across the yard. Inside, the boys’ fort collapsed, followed by laughter. June stirred on the baby monitor, murmuring nonsense in her sleep.

Sunshine smiled. “We did okay, didn’t we?”

Harry looked at her. At the lines by her eyes that hadn’t been there ten years ago. At the strength in her. The grace.

“We did better than okay,” he said. “We made a universe.”

———

Years passed.

The boys grew taller. Their shoes got bigger. Theo became quiet and thoughtful, always with a book or sketchpad in hand. Rowan stayed bold and loud, but grew gentler in the way he held his little sister’s hand when she was scared. June grew up fast. Too fast. She wore her mother’s old cardigans, her father’s smile. She sang to herself in the garden and kept a diary full of little poems.

And then one day, the house was quiet again.

Theo left first—for university, then a gap year in Japan. Rowan went a year later, chasing music and something wild in his bones. June lingered, the last flicker of childhood in the halls, before she, too, packed a suitcase and kissed them both goodbye at the train station. Harry and Sunshine stood on the platform holding hands, watching their youngest daughter wave from the window. When the train disappeared around the bend, Sunshine whispered, “It’s quiet again.” Harry kissed her temple. “But not empty.”

———

They bought the cottage a year later.

Tucked in the countryside, it had ivy on the walls and windows that caught the golden light just right. The garden was overgrown when they moved in, but Sunshine loved the wildness of it. “It feels honest,” she said. Inside, it smelled of lavender and old wood. The fireplace crackled in the evenings, and the bookshelves groaned with their history. Every corner was filled with something from their life together—a framed drawing Theo made at ten, Rowan’s first guitar, one of June’s early poems scrawled in blue ink and pinned to the fridge. There was a bench out front, just under the tree that bloomed too early each spring. Harry sat there most mornings with his coffee, wrapped in a sweater Sunshine had knitted years ago. She would join him soon after, bringing a second mug and a knowing smile. One morning, he looked over at her as she read her book, feet tucked under her, glasses sliding down her nose.

“Do you remember the rainy day?”

She looked up. “Which one?”

“The one with the pastries. The one where I finally asked.”

She laughed softly. “You were so nervous.”

“I still am.”

She reached out and took his hand.

“You don’t need to ask anymore,” she whispered. “You already have everything you need.”

They sat in silence for a while. Birds chirped. A breeze rustled the leaves.

Eventually, she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You know,” she said sleepily, “one day the kids will bring their kids here. This house is going to hold so many more stories.”

Harry smiled, eyes wet.

“I hope they find the love in the walls.”

“They will,” she whispered. “It’s in everything.”

———

When the world slowed even more, when days passed with the rhythm of the wind and evenings melted into starlight, Harry and Sunshine stayed side by side—just as they always had. He never stopped calling her Sunshine. And even in the quietest moments, when no one else was around, he would still reach for her hand and whisper,

“You’re still my favorite forever.”

And she would answer, always,

“I was yours before you even asked.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #angst #one direction #1d #1direction #harry 1d #fem!reader #fine line #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction

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tobeafangirl · 3 days ago

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rebel with a cause

Words: 8,866 Rating: M | smut (oral (mtf), protected sex) fluff (pining/golden retriever/lover boy) angst (minor angst, mostly passive aggressive, cheating) Type: Harry Styles x Reader ❀ Masterlist ❀ Requests ❀ Taglist ❀

He sat in the headmaster’s office holding a bag of ice to his knuckles. He hated this, this is not like him. He doesn't fight. He can barely hold his own. But her? She made all the rules sound fucking stupid and he would break them all for her.

Worst part is, she's standing out there looking at him like she's thankful for something he did for her. Yeah, he did it for her and he would have told the world that if she wanted him to.

Because sure, they’ve never really talked and he sounds like a borderline obsessed freak but there has just always been this thing between them. Sure, it was unspoken but it was electric. And he knew she felt it too. He could tell by the way she looked at him. It drove him crazy. He didn't think he had ever craved someone on every level until he met her.

He don't know if he love her, but if this is what love feels like. he will’ll fucking take it, and he will keep it forever.

His leg was bouncing like it was being paid to do so and he just really wanted to leave. “Hey do you think you can give me my detention or whatever the fuck and let me go?” He leaned forward toward the secretary, his brow raising as she huffed. “Styles! We will not tolerate that language!”

He winced. Absolute gobshite. “So sorry, yeah, right. So, can I go?” He pointed in the direction he saw her. He just wanted to walk past her, that’s all. Hold his head up. Took a hit for her, didn’t he? “Not until you speak to the headmaster!” Oh, right. That.

Just then, like magic, she entered the room with said headmaster. He looked pissed and she held a smile that looked nearly apologetic. He wanted to reach out and tell her there was nothing to be sorry for. He did what he did. Whatever.

“Right. Ms. Robinson. Seems like here that Miss Y/LN says that Mister Styles was defending her honor and therefore would like for him to be dismissed.” The headmaster said in a rush or breath, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Hell. Him either. He looked directly at Y/N and she gave another small smile.

He had no idea why she got him off the hook but you bet your sweet arse he was about to thank her for it. In any way she seemed fit. Harry smiled at Miss Robinson and she begrudgingly dismissed him. Harry walked out of the office, tugging his jacket on tighter as if showing off, offering a polite smile to Y/N. He saw the corners of her mouth twitch. Cheeky. He knew she had a bit of a dark side.

Harry also waited outside the office. Just for that pretty face. About ten minutes later there it was, coming out of the office and stopping in her tracks as soon as she saw him. A brief roll of her eyes and she started to walk down the hallway. He caught up with her quickly, smirk plastered. From a distance she're stunning, up close? A fucking daydream.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” He said smoothly, eyes on her. She hummed in response. Hard to get. That was fine, he was pretty good at the waiting game. Well, sometimes.

“What do you say I thank you properly? Take you to dinner?” It made her smile, even if it was small and accompanied with an eye roll. “Harry, thank you for what you did. You didn't have to do that but I'm sorry–I can't.”

Right. Because the twat was still her boyfriend. Why wouldn’t she break up with someone who was a total piece of shit and treated her like crap? Harry would never understand why he had such a hold on her, but he pushed it aside, a lopsided smile gracing his face. “Offer will still stand if you ever change your mind.”

She smiled, and Harry could swear that her smile could cure almost anything. But then she walked away and his smile faded into nothing. Then, like clockwork, he heard the laughter behind him. Harry turned his head with the most pissed off look he could muster and there he was:

Zayn.

Laughing his arse off at his failed attempt with her, yet again. “Give it up mate, she’ll have a restraining order by Tuesday.” It was Monday. “I will never give up on love.” He says dramatically, slapping his hand over his chest. All the theatrics, the things Harry does for Zayn. He rolled his eyes at him, acting annoyed. Harry knew he loved him. Been mates for too long for him not to.

He could have bailed on him plenty of times and yet here we are. Practically sharing a locker and sometimes a bedroom. Some days we were brothers, others? We bickered like a married couple. But they were stuck with each other, Harry was perfectly okay with that.

“Okay, man, love left. Love left like five years ago. Love has never existed between you two. In fact, I think love—” Harry held his hand over Zayn’s mouth as if he was speaking evil into existence. “Would you come off it?! Your negativity is why you never get dates.” Harry was quick to retrieve his hand, Zayn licks. He always licks.

“I’ve been in a relationship since year nine, Harry, my ‘dates’ are every Friday night.” Harry furrowed his brows together, tilting his head. “So, that’s why you’ve been blowing me off?” He acted like he didn't know this information. Like he didn’t know all Zayn’s information. Zayn rolled his eyes and then clamped his hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, mate.” Zayn gave a fake solemn look and Harry pouted, continuing the banter.

“It’s my arse isn’t it? Too fat.” Harry shrugged as if that was just the obvious answer and Zayn laughed, shaking his head. “That would actually put you on top of the list.” He made a face, and Zayn made one in agreement.

Next thing he knew, Zayn was ruffling his curls and pulling him down into a headlock and he was protesting with every part of him. Long arms flinging around, laughter filling the hallway. “We are not making out, don’t even try it!” Harry protested and Zayn laughed harder. “You wish, pony boy.” Zayn finally shoved him off and Harry stood tall, straightening his jacket for the millionth time today.

“Don’t know why I’m friends with you.” Harry muttered, not meaning it. “Who else would be?” Zayn retorted and he shot him a look of annoyance and we both broke out into a smile. His mate for life, that guy.

Zayn and Harry started to make our way out of the school and into the parking lot. The day was over anyway, especially after the event that just took place. Once we were out there, Harry heard her voice and his head was immediately in her direction. She was standing with that idiot that was now supporting a new shiner on his face. Ha, he did that.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Zayn asked him as he opened the boot of his car and started to throw his stuff in there. He tossed mine in as well. “So we were at PE, yeah? Then out of nowhere, Y/N comes storming in, looking livid as all hell. Her boyfriend behind her, yelling things that would make my mum punch me in the throat.”

“He was saying shit to her?” Zayn asked with a raised brow as he looked over his shoulder at her and her boyfriend, seeming to still be having heated discussions. He gave a slightly disgusted look, Zayn didn’t like women being mistreated. He had sisters, and would do anything for them.

“Understatement. Like, actual shit that should warrant a break up. And that has nothing to do with my secret feelings for her.” Harry tried to defend but Zayn just gave him a look of disbelief. Not mocking either. “They are a secret?” He asked with a deadpan look on his face.

Harry gave him a full look of annoyance. “You’re the reason romance is dead.” Harry retorted and Zayn snorted at Harry’s attempt at an insult. “No mate, you’re the reason why girls cover their drink at the pub.”

“Hey! I am not, I am a sweet boy who respects women.” Harry was quick to defend himself. He knew zayn didn’t mean it that way, he was just shit at analogies. Always shit at analogies.

Zayn scoffed, slamming his boot shut as making his way inside the car with Harry following suit. “Unless it’s Y/N.” Zayn said once they were comfortable in the car and Harry narrowed his eyes. “I respect Y/N.” He defended again, because he did.

“You pine after her.” Zayn corrected and okay, mayne he had a slight point there. Harry has had this, well, crush for quite sometime…since primary…first day in fact. Sure, kids were huffing glue and making macaroni art but Harry saw Y/N and he was hooked. She had a valentine from him every year, a birthday card, you name it. It finally stopped in secondary when cute school crushes became a bit more, well, creepy.

“I just think that she deserves the best and she’s clearly not getting it, Zayn. You didn’t see the tears, how upset she was. Someone had to teach that tosser a lesson, fucking wanker.” It practically boiled Harry’s blood just to think about it, let alone talk about it.

Zayn scoffed, finally driving off to their destination. Harry's house. He looked out the window like a lost puppy when they passed Y/N in the parking lot. “And you what? Just had to be the knight in shining armour.” Zayn didn’t even know why he continued to entertain such a conversation, but he did.

“I just wanted her to know that there is more out there.” Harry said softly, a bit defeated but his words were true. “And you think you’re that guy?” Zayn asked finally and Harry gave his answer quickly and firmly.

“I think I could be.”

The car filled with silence after that, but it wasn’t grim. It was normal and comfortable. This happened daily if it was a weekday, Zayn always took Harry home. It was an arrangement they have had since Zayn got his car. Tradition by now.

Just like always, he insulted zayn one last time before he exited his car, popping the trunk and getting his things out and almost barreling inside until he remembered. Surely, his mum would have gotten the call by now. Blimey he was going to get an actual ear full.

He ran in but this was to pass by his mum quickly so he could go up the stairs and make it to his room without getting scolded, but he also couldn’t help himself as he peeked into Gemma’s room with a small innocent smile on his face. “Hey did mum get a call?”

“You bet your arse she did, trouble maker.” Gemma said excitedly as she sat up on her bed, her smile was wide and hungry for gossip and Harry couldn’t do anything but groan dramatically and thud his head against the doorframe.

“I’ll have you know I was defending a girl's honor.” Harry said annoyed, his voice almost a whine as he gave his sister pleading eyes.

Gemma let out a loud sigh as she rolled her eyes. Clearly she wanted to rile Harry up and this was not the reaction she wanted. “Heard that’s why you weren’t getting in serious shit.” She crossed her arms.

Harry was happy for Gemma’s change in demeanor, now taking the situation a bit more seriously than before. He knew she liked to poke fun but Harry had never really gotten into trouble like this. He’d never been in a fight. Zayn had, just twice, for his sisters but Zayn was the oldest he protected them.

Harry would protect Gemma too, just to be clear. She is just older and usually can handle everything on her own. Men should fear her. People should fear her. She was a force to be reckoned with. Harry loved her for that.

“Is she pissed?” Harry tests and the look Gemma gave him told him everything he needed to know. “She’s not happy.” Gemma informed him with a bit of pity on her face. Their mum, Anne was sweet as can be but when she was upset? Well, it made sense where Gemma got her bite.

He had no idea how he survived in a house full of powerful women.

Harry tiptoed to his mum’s room. Peeking in before he just walked in. He knocked softly and walked in with the most innocent smile he could put on his face. But he was met with fiery eyes.

As soon as Anne caught sight of him she stormed forward, marching right up to her. Her finger pointed out at him like he was getting a scolding, and well, he was. “Are you absolutely taking the piss?” Her tone was bitter and strong and it made Harry wince.

“Mum! Don’t get all prissy, you know I can’t stand it.” Harry whined slightly and immediately got hit upside the head. “Language!” Anne shrieked, yeah she was furious.

“I didn’t say anything!” Harry protested, rubbing the spot he was just hit and giving his mom a disapproving look. He knew she didn’t mean to, it’s not like it really hurt anyway. He was being a tad bit dramatic.

Anne then sighed, her shoulders slumping, her eyes dropping down the scratched up and soon to be bruising knuckles of Harry’s. “What on earth were you thinking Harry? I mean fighting?” Anne questioned because it wasn’t like her son and Harry knew it was probably jarring for her. This is the type of stuff parents freak out over.

Harry tried to brighten the mood by gesturing to his face. “Are we not going to comment on how I do not have a scratch on me?” He even gave a smug smile to sell it and Anne let out a sigh.

“No, because I am terrified of what the other boy looks like.” Anne said softly, so soft that Harry almost didn’t hear it but his smile only grew when he heard it.

“The same! Just a nice little shiner on his cheek.” Harry brought his pointer finger up to tap lightly on the apple of his cheek, his mother’s eyes widening as she watched him do said action and for a split second it was like all of that rage and anger came flooding back into Anne’s eyes. “Harry!”

Harry held his hands up in defense already as he prepared for his next blow. “Mum – he was literally being a complete shit to a girl and I was trying to defend her. That's why things were dropped, she told the headmaster what happened and she didn’t believe I should be in any trouble. And well, personally, I think that should extend to home.”

There was a pause. It was long. Harry’s arms lowered to his sides.

“Was he really being mean to her?” Anne asked, her face contorting to something of slight concern.

Harry let out a soft sigh, his demeanor now matching his mothers. Slumped shoulders, but there was an obvious ache somewhere. “Yes, mum. You’d ring my neck if you heard the things he said to her and I don’t know. I just got pissed, no one deserves that but she really doesn’t.”

“Oh no.” His mum said suddenly and Harry gave her a slightly weird look. “What?” His ask earned him a sigh from her. Harry’s eyes followed his mother as she walked further into her room. “It was Y/N, wasn’t it?” She gave a big sigh and it was Harry’s eyes turn to widen.

“I–wha–does everyone know?” He asked nearly flabbergasted that even his mother knew about his slight crush. “She even knows, Harry!” Well, shit.

“I am not having this conversation, goodnight mother.” Harry turned on his heels to walk out of the room and he could hear his mother scoff behind him. “It’s 4pm.” Anne sounded unimpressed, Harry could practically hear her arms cross.

“I will see you in the morning.” Harry just huffed as he continued out the door. “You haven’t even had dinner yet!” Anne called after him but he was already entering his room and shutting the door.

Harry stayed in his room for the rest of the night, thinking about Y/N. Something about today felt different to him. She had stood up for him, spoke to him, maybe, there could really be something there. He knew he couldn’t give it up. Not yet. He’d find a way to talk to her at school tomorrow. Somehow.

Fun fact? Harry didn’t have to.

Y/N was standing by his locker when he entered school the next morning. He looked around himself trying to make sure he was in the right area but as his eyes turned to meet Y/N, she gave him a small wave. She really was waiting on him.

“Hey.” She said softly once he approached, his head tilted to the side, a smirk planted on his face. “Hey.” He responded, pulling the bag over his shoulder. Y/N almost looked nervous and it made him curious.

“So, um, there is a party tonight at Jasmine’s house. I wanted to extend the invite as a thank you for being so sweet the other day. Oh, and Zayn can come too, I know you two are like attached at the hip basically.” Harry could tell by Y/N’s fidgeting just how truly nervous she was and it made his smirk turn into a genuine smile.

“We will see you there.”

***

“I’m not going.” Zayn said as soon as Harry mentioned the party and Harry looked at him like he had lost his mind. What did he mean that he wasn’t going? This was Harry’s in.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” He spat out, and Zayn at first held an amused look on his face before he spoke. “I mean – my girlfriend doesn’t really like Jasmine so me showing up at the party would be suspicious.” He gave a small shrug like this was okay and not ruining Harry’s mood at all.

“You’re on a fucking lesh.” Harry rolled his eyes at Zayn but of course, this didn’t phase Zayn. This was how they bickered sometimes. Mostly over stupid things.

“At least I’m getting laid.” Touché there Zayn, touché there.

Harry sat there for a moment. They were currently at lunch and Harry had the perfect view of Y/N. She looked breathtaking even while eating. Harry didn’t think there was one thing she didn’t do that he didn’t find beautiful.

He knew at that moment, he had to go. He had to go to the party but not just because Y/N invited him but because he had a strong feeling he would regret it if he didn’t.

“Okay, so I will just go and I will make a move.” Harry said nonchalantly, like his idea was no big deal and Zayn immediately choked on his drink, he was now giving Harry a look of fear. “Do not, and I repeat, do not make a move.”

Harry’s thoughts were filled with the different ways for him to try and start a conversation, maybe get her alone to really talk to him about everything. It’s as if Zayn knew exactly what Harry’s mind was doing.

“She has a boyfriend.” Zayn reminds, the furrow of his brow disapproving of whatever Harry was already planning. “A bad one.” Harry retorted because it was a fact.

“That — God, do those curls on your head make things hard to get through or what?” Zayn rolled his eyes, picking up his bag of crisps and diving back in.

Okay, Zayn had a point but I was not about to admit that to his face. That was not how this works. Maybe he was delusional, but as he looked toward Y/N again, her boyfriend stupid arm slung across her shoulders, she looked almost somber.

Then, their eyes met and Harry’s heart did a little flutter at the soft smile that was directed to him. It seemed genuine and he wanted to put it there every single day. There was no doubt in his mind. He was going to that damn party.

***

Ten. Harry had tried on ten different outfits and he didn’t even think he had that many to begin with but here he was. He had been texting Zayn pictures of him to help him decide and he was pretty sure Zayn was close to having his head.

But Zayn had style. It was effortless for him. Harry felt he had to try. Harry went through all of that just to go with something simple. He didn’t know what you wore at parties but he figured clothes in general would suffice. So, a white shirt and black ripped jeans was what he went with.

Once he made that decision. Not mere moments later he stood in front of the door to Jasmine’s house. Oh the outside it looked like a ghost town. Besides the few cars on the street and in the driveway, it seemed calm but Harry could hear the thump from inside. The sounds of laughter, a bit of chaos maybe.

He raised his hand and knocked loud enough for someone to hear. Was he even supposed to knock? Probably not. He was probably just supposed to walk in. He was being an idiot already. He reached for the handle but before he could open the door it swung open for him and he was greeted with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“Hey, you came! No Zayn?” Y/N's voice was a bit brighter than usual. Apparently she had loosened up some. Harry was trying his hardest not to stare in any way that was disrespectful but…goddamn.

The outfit she had decided to wear was low cut and fitting and Harry simply couldn’t breath. “No Zayn. Just me.” Even his voice was a bit breathless.

Y/N’s eyes turned fond, her smile softening and she looked so welcoming. “Well, that’s alright.” She said as she gestured for him to come in, which he did so promptly. “Did you want a drink?” She asked him and he nodded.

“Sure, yeah. Beer?” He was trying to remain calm, keep the conversation flowing without trying too hard. She gave a nod. “Follow me.” She beckoned him and he knew he’d follow her anywhere.

Their trek to the kitchen was really eye opening. Harry didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t exactly what he thought it would be. Bodies everywhere, dancing, talking, drugs, alcohol is what he expected and there seemed to be some of that, but it was a bit more chill. He liked that.

“I feel like I never see you at parties.” Y/N said as they finally got to the kitchen, she was already grabbing him a beer and popping it open. He took it with a smile and had himself a small drink before he answered. He decided to be truthful. “I don’t normally go to them.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly but a small smile tugged at her lips, she knew she had to. He wasn’t here for the party. He could care less about it. “You didn’t have to come, you know?” She tested the waters.

Harry felt like they were actually having a moment. The way their eyes met, dancing with each other like they knew each other. He smiled to himself, all lopsided but his dimples shined bright. “I know.”

Just as he thought he was getting somewhere because, God, it felt like he was. Just when he was going to take that step forward, deepen the conversation. Here he came. Tall, loud, annoying, Milo. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her into him to the point she looked uncomfortable and Harry wanted to punch him in the face, again.

Milo was all laughs and high fives as if he was some sort of celebrity but his eyes glared once they met Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that dickhead who sucker punched me.” Milo pointed at him and Harry raised his brow.

“Chill, Lo.” Y/N turned more into him to face him and Harry gripped his beer a bit tighter at that. Milo didn’t look too pleased. His voice was stern and firm but his eyes never left Harry. “Did you invite him?”

Harry didn’t like Milo’s tone, or the way he was looking or touching Y/N, like she wasn’t her own person. Like he owned her. He was about to say something when Y/N spoke.

“I did.” She crossed her arms, stood her ground. Harry smirked.

“Nice. Real nice Y/N.” Milo scoffed and rolled his eyes, storming off to be the center of attention or whatever the fuck he did and Harry couldn’t help but think good riddance.

Y/N sighed softly, her head tiling some as she looked at him, her expression was soft and apologetic and Harry hated to see her like that. “Sorry.” She tried to chuckle as if that was completely normal behavior but maybe to her it was.

Harry’s brows met together as he finally took that small step forward, sitting his beer down on the counter. “Why are you apologizing?”

She noticed his small stride forward but she didn’t say anything about it. “Milo can be a bit much…” She admitted but there was obviously more to it than that. She knew it. I knew it.

“I’ve noticed.” Harry’s comment hung in the air for a moment. There was a slight crackle there, a hint that maybe something could spark from this.

It was then when Y/N took her own step forward, bringing them closer together and Harry had to do everything to stay composed. She was just so close to him, he could see every little detail of her face. Her subtle makeup and how it enhances the things that were already there that made her so naturally beautiful in the first place.

“Why did you do it?” She asked softly and Harry cleared his throat some. “Do what?” He questioned as if he didn’t know what this conversation was about.

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes in a way that was playful. “Don’t play stupid.” Y/N’s eyes met his again and Harry felt himself sigh, it wasn’t out of annoyance though, it was over the fact that he knew when she looked at him like that, he couldn’t deny her. Not in the slightest.

“He was saying things about you—-to you. You don’t deserve to be treated that way.” Harry said softly, he was hesitant, part of him was telling him to reach out, reassure even if it’s just a friendly gesture but he didn’t want to cross a boundary.

“You don’t even know me.” She whispered and it wasn’t malicious or in ill intent, she seemed cautious, vulnerable almost. Like no one had ever stood up for her before, even if they knew her well.

“I don’t have to. It's just common decency.”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something but Jasmine's voice boomed over the music that was playing in the background.

“We’re playing a game!”

Some cheered, some groaned but Harry and Y/N? Just kept eye contact with each other. Both silent, like they were having a private conversation with their eyes.

“Okay, I don’t have to explain right?” Jasmine asked as the group that were all gathered in a circle. Harry noticed Y/N didn’t sit by her boyfriend. She didn’t sit by Harry either but that's besides the point.

“You can explain why we are playing it.” Liam, a lad from Harry’s English class came forward with the question.

Jasmine scoffed, rolled her eyes in full annoyance. “Because it’s fun, come on. You don't even have to do anything – make a friend!” She was too excited for this.

And what was this? Seven minutes in heaven. A childish dumb game that was either a blessing or a curse depending on the situation. Harry hoped this was a blessing for him.

He watched as people spun a half drunk bottle of Jack in the middle of the floor and then disappeared for seven minutes. Either coming back looking as they went or disheveled. There was no guessing who took the time to get to know each other friendly or intimately.

It then was Milo’s turn and Harry glared at him but he noticed that Y/N didn’t make eye contact and when Milo’s spin landed on someone who wasn’t his girlfriend, he smiled. Fucking prick.

After seven minutes, Milo came out looking just as he went in and for a moment Harry was shocked, maybe he was low, but not that low, but then the girl tipped toed from around him, wiping her smudged lip gloss and Harry could feel his blood boil.

Y/N noticed but she didn’t say anything. Harry wondered if this was a normal occurrence. If this is something he had done before. Or maybe she didn’t care, but that didn’t seem like Y/N.

Within no time, it was Harry’s turn and he cleared his throat a bit. He sort of thought the game would be over before it even got to him but alas. Here he was. He spun the bottle, eyes glancing around as waited to see just who it would land on.

As fate would have it, the bottle landed on Y/N and Harry felt his whole body spring to life. She looked at him through those ridiculously long lashes and for a moment he thought he saw a bit of excitement in her eyes.

“Would you stop bloody staring and get into the closet?” Jasmine groaned out and Harry chuckled softly at her. For something that was her idea, she was really acting like she wanted this to end.

“You’re not really doing this, right?” Milo spoke from the sidelines, his eyes narrowing. It seemed this was his typical behaviour but apparently it wasn’t Y/N. Made sense.

Y/N rolled her eyes and then came at him hard. “Didn’t you just go into a closet with someone?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, the double standard clear and the whole circle were looking between the two at the interaction.

“Babe, that was different.”

Okay, Harry had enough. He stood, took long strides over to Y/N without any hesitation and he held his hand out to her. This seemed to stop all conversation and Milo looked at him like he was dead meat.

Didn’t care. He was about to get seven minutes alone with her. Seven whole minutes. Maybe that’s all he needed.

She took his hand and he smirked before even realizing. Protests could be heard from the meathead, but her? She was the one who led him into the closet.

Once inside. Every male instinct in him said pounce, but of course, he was respectful. he was not about to make her uncomfortable.

He watched as she shifted, probably trying to adjust to the darkness like he was and then, a phone light. You laughed and he wanted to kiss her immediately.

“Sorry—“ She sat her phone down so it illuminated the room. “—Not the biggest fan of the dark.” He smiled at that. So she had a fear of the dark. That’s cute. That’s endearing. That made him wonder if she preferred the lights on in bed.

What? He is a guy. Sue him.

“It’s all good. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.” Harry told her sincerely. It was important to him. For her to be comfortable. He’d always honor that.

“Why are you so sweet, Harry?” Y/N asked suddenly and Harry gave a small shrug. “Don’t reckon I am to most.” And he wasn’t. Harry had Zayn but other than that, he didn’t have many friends. He didn’t mind. He liked to keep to himself.

Y/N scrunched her nose up some, it was cute. She looked at him like she didn’t believe him, but he understood that. “You are to me.” There it was. The way she pointed out the obvious. “Yes.” And how he always confirmed it without hesitation.

Harry watched her face change from a sweet smile to a slightly more serious expression. “Why do you like me, Harry?” She asked him in a whisper and Harry had to take a deep breath. He was going to tell her the truth but he had to compose himself first.

“Why wouldn’t I? Y/N, you’re incredibly beautiful and smart. So fucking smart. You have goals, a future. You know what you want in life and that’s so attractive. Then you’re sweet, I notice. How you treat others and how kind you are. You’re unbelievable in every sense of the word. There’s no way in hell I wouldn’t like you.”

Then, he felt her hands grasping his shirt and then her lips on his and—Oh my god.

Oh my fucking god.

You were kissing him and he felt like he took too long to respond because his mind was an absolute fucking wreck.

You tasted like strawberries and a hint of some type of liquid courage and he was addicted already. The grip she had in his shirt loosened as the kiss went on and he took his time.

We might only have seven minutes but I’m going to treat it like we had a lifetime. He let one of his hands take her by the waist to pull her in closer. Flush. His other hand cupped the nape of her neck and he swore he heard her make a noise and he had to fight every single urge running through his body.

Your lips were soft but they kissed fiercely and he liked that. It wasn’t as sweet as he wanted our first kiss to be but it was passionate. Then, her tongue graced his lip and he fucking melted.

You knew what she wanted and that confidence was something else. A turn on. No, seriously. His jeans were fucking tight. He licked into her mouth like he was on a mission to memorize it. Then he heard it again. Yeah, that was definitely a moan. And he wanted to hear it again.

He moved then, shifting us, pressing her against something, anything. Finally when she was pressed against the wall, he was able to slot his leg between hers and he knew she could feel him. There was a soft gasp from her, but she smiled into the kiss.

Although, he could kiss her lips all day and never complain. He wanted more. Needed, actually. And he had no idea how much longer we had before this moment was ripped away from us. His lips moved over the curve of her jaw, to her ear where he nipped at her earlobe and caused her to suck in a breath.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He whispered into her ear and she dug her nails into his back and why couldn’t this be as many minutes as he wanted in heaven. Because those minutes would be forever.

“Harry..” You whispered and there was a slight warning there but there was also desire and he could feed off of it. His lips were on her neck now and her hands were in his hair, tugging, gripping. He was nearly lost.

Until.

His back hit the opposite wall so fast and he was very confused. However, the confusion was quickly replaced with understanding once he heard the twist of the door knob. Their time was over.

“You two look like you couldn’t get farther away from each other.” Jasmine said and he smirked instantly, but he looked away to try and hide it. Y/N shot him a glare. Harry thinks he is actually in love with her.

“Can we leave or is this our new home?”

Jasmine rolled her eyes but she stepped aside and they both walked out. He couldn’t lie. He was on cloud nine. They just made out. Like properly made out. Sure it was in a closet and not the way he had envisioned it. But it happened. And she enjoyed it. Does that mean it will happen again?

“Sorry you got stuck in the closet with such a delinquent.” Milo was practically standing right around the corner waiting for them. He had this look on his face that only screamed bad news. Harry was really sick of this guy.

“Milo.” There was a clear warning in her voice this time. Not like in the closet. No, he was wearing her thin “Can we go?” She snapped and Milo looked offended.

“No, the party hasn’t even started yet!” He truly sounded like a brat and Harry had to step in. He just had to. “I’ll take you.” He spoke up and bothe Milo and Y/N’s head turned toward him in shock.

Milo let out a chuckle and moved to mask Y/N some. “Not a chance, bruv.” He said and Harry was trying to mentally prepare himself for a fight.

“Okay.” Came a soft voice that belonged to Y/N as she stepped from behind her boyfriend. Milo looked at her like he was seeing double.

“What?!” Milo’s voice even sounded like it jumped an octave but Y/N stood her ground. Reaching out, she took Harry by the arm and pulled herself to his side.

“I said I wanted to go home. I’m going.”

That was final. And that’s how Y/N ended up next to him in his car as he drove them to her home. It was silent for a moment during the ride, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt a bit necessary to fully process what happened. Not just between them but the whole night.

“It's the house on the corner still, right? Off Shade Hollow?” Harry asked after a beat and Y/N shot him a bit of an impressed look. “How do you know that?” She questioned and Harry bit his lip.

He felt like he could feel himself almost blush at what he was about to say next. He shifted a bit before he cleared his throat. “Year six your mom made you throw an all inclusive birthday party. I came.” Laughter then filled the car. “Of course you did.”

Harry glanced at her at that, his smile widening some. “You don’t sound surprised.” He acknowledged as turned his attention back to the road but before he looked away he was sure he saw her smile slightly falter.

“Nothing can phase me after tonight.” Her voice came out soft as she spoke and Harry pursed his lips together, his shoulders relaxing some as he was nearing her house.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked and she scoffed immediately, “What? My infidelity?” She rolled her eyes but closed her eyes and sighed after. As if she was displacing her anger and she was trying to compose herself.

“He’s not good to you, Y/N.”

“That doesn’t justify it.”

“He was literally in that same closet making out with some girl.”

“And I was no different.”

“I don’t — regret it Harry, I just need to figure some stuff out.”

“I’ll give you that.”

And he did. He gave her time.

Two weeks to be exact. In the meantime, telling Zayn about everything was pretty funny considering he sat there with his mouth wide open as if Harry was lying about every single word.

“She kissed you?”

“Yes.”

“You kissed her?”

“Yes.”

“You made out?”

“Properly.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

That was the conversation in a nutshell.

Things have been happening and Harry has been noticing. Y/N and Milo have been seen less together, and rumors have started about a possible break up. Everything was solidified when the meathead himself walked down the hallway with a new girl on his arm.

Harry was the happiest he’s ever been.

He was ecstatic when he and Zayn walked outside after the last bell and saw Y/N leaned against Zayn’s car. Harry started to smack Zayn’s shoulder while Zayn just laughed at Harry’s reaction. He nearly tumbled down the stairs.

“She’s there.”

“I see.”

“I should go.”

“You should.”

Harry nodded and then turned back to face Y/N, she was now sporting some small like e were in some fucking rom com and he just wanted to run up and kiss her senseless.

He tried to walk down the stairs confidently, but his smile gave him away. He was looking at her like she was the only girl in the world and she was giving this warm smile that made his chest tighten.

“Hey.” He spoke once his feet were planted before her.

“Hey.” She cooed, glancing behind Harry at Zayn momentarily. “He mind if I steal you for a bit?” She asked with this look that said she knew the answer already. He didn’t even look at Zayn. “He doesn’t mind.”

Then, he was in her car, foot tapping against the floor board. She was wearing this easy smile like she felt free. It was beautiful.

They were going to her place. Her parents were out and his brain couldn’t stop repeating the words she whispered in his ear. I can’t wait to be alone with you.

Oh, he was so fucked.

“Sorry it took a while, I have some…terms to come to, I guess.” She whispered softly as they neared her home and Harry’s heart felt like it could fall out of his chest.

“No, no. I’m happy you took the time you needed. I want you to be ready for this, not scared of this.” Harry’s voice held a gentle tone and Y/N appreciated that. She smiled, it was warm like her.

Harry could only describe what happened next as a rush. Car was parked, the front door unlocked. Harry might have gotten a small glance of the entryway before Y/N lips were on his and suddenly that was all he could think about.

His jacket came off first, it landed somewhere in the couch, shoes were kicked off at the bottom of the stairwell and then her lips parted from his, soft pants filling the air around them as they stared into each other's eyes, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

Y/N gave him a smile and took his hand, leading him up to her room, his heart thudding in his chest. He felt like all his dreams were coming true at once.

Harry wanted to look around the room. To see where Y/N felt the most comfortable. To get to know her on a more personal level but as soon as he pulled that door closed behind him. His focus and attention were solely on her.

Before she could even turn around Harry stepped behind her, his hand find her hip, his finger slipping underneath the hem of her shirt just to lightly brush the skin there, he leaned his head down, starting to press soft kisses to Y/N’s neck, she immediately tilted to give him more access and he watched with half-lidded eyes as hers closed completely.

She Looked like elegance and Harry couldn’t believe just how lucky he was at that moment. His hand slipped further up her shirt as the little noises that started to escape her mouth edged Harry on. Her hand was now in his hair and he was sure she could feel his heartbeat against her back . But if it was any indication from the way she was breathing, her heart was beating just as fast.

Then Y/N turned to face him, his eyes going directly to hers just to see them dark with lust and a hint of something else that made his skin tingle and his chest tighten. There was more to this than meets the eyes and they both knew that.

She reached down to remove her shirt and Harry couldn’t control his eyes as they immediately dropped, his breath caught in his throat as delicate lace covered the skin he had dreamed about. He followed pursuit, taking off his own shirt and he heard her audible gasp, even if it was soft. He smirked.

Harry watched as Y/N reached to unbutton her jeans and he closed the small gap between them. His hand covering hers. “Please, let me.” His voice was low, rough, raspy and he didn’t even recognize his own voice for a moment. She swallowed but nodded, moving her hands. You couldn’t cut the tension in the room with a knife. It clung to the air and coated over them.

His hands moved slowly, his eyes watching her reaction, the way her chest heaved with each breath, even the way her thighs squeezed together a bit as he pulled her jeans down. She was ready for him and fuck was he ready for her too.

He kissed along her thighs and she let out small shaky breaths that sounded like symphonies. “Harry.” She exhaled and you guessed it, he was done for.

It was like something primal engaged inside of him and next thing he knew, he was standing and picking her up and throwing her on the bed, his body coming to nestle perfectly between her legs and his lips were on hers in a way that made her whimper.

His jeans couldn’t come off fast enough, near damn painful from just how hard he was. And now they were both in their underwear and Harry never thought this would happen. He never thought he would be running his hands down her body, feeling the soft skin and subtle curves and dips.

Never thought he would be snaking those same hands around her back to unclasp her bra and kiss down her body like he was on a fucking mission. And he was. He was damned determined to make her feel like she has never before.

Harry pressed lightly into her skin as his finger tips ran up her torso to grasp her breast and then the room was suddenly filled with soft moans that only got louder as his lips came in contact with her hard nipple.

He felt her fingers curled in his hair and she would light scratch and pull and that was enough to make Harry groan against her skin. He kept moving down. Dying to have her on his taste buds. Needing her in a way that was nearly feral.

Before he knew it he was face to face with her core and Y/N was letting out little whines as soon as his lips left her. But the sight was something he had to see. Cotton was a bold choice because it left no room to hide. She was dripping. He licked his lips, the happiest grin on his face. Like he was a kid in a candy store.

When the fabric was finally removed, Harry knew what to do. His head was buried nearly immediately, his arms wrapping around her thighs and pulling her to him, her legs over his shoulders. She wasn’t going anywhere. He’d be here for hours if she’d let him.

As soon as he tasted her, he was hooked. Not only to her, but just how loud she got from only one stroke of his tongue and the quicker it moved, the louder she got.

His eyes were glued to her. One of her hands in his hair, the other pressing against the headboard and she tried to get closer to him. Her head was kicked back, eyes closed, face contorted in pure pleasure and if Harry didn’t have other plans, he would’ve come then and there untouched just from the sight.

Y/N started clawing at his shoulders, her body a mess, already having little spasms underneath him. “Harry, please.” She sounded desperate and he found he absolutely loved it. She kept going.

“I need you.” A moan. “Inside.” A sharp intake. “Of me.” A whisper.

That was it. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He felt a noise ripple from the back of his throat, near close to a growl and climbed over her. She had a light sheen of sweat coating her, giving her a glow that Harry had to memorize.

“Condoms in the top drawer.” She informed him, it took him less than a second to retrieve it, only a few to push his briefs down and kick them to the floor and just a bit longer to rip open the condom and slid it on. All the while Y/N was letting little giggles escape her which was causing Harry’s dimples to show from the grin he had on his face. “Shut up.” He mumbled, he knew he looked eager.

“Hey.” He heard her soft voice as she turned his head to look at her. She kissed him, soft and sweet and almost too much for him right now. “I’m happy we’re doing this.” She whispered against his lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, her words were music to his ears as their lips stayed softly tangled with each other’s. “Yeah.” She whispered and before Harry knew it, those soft kisses and whispers led to him back between her legs, those same legs hooked over his hips and the tip of his cock positioned at her entrance.

When it happened, Harry saw heaven. He had to stop his eyes from rolling into the back of his head because he had to watch her. The look on her face was priceless and he wanted this to be his view every morning, afternoon, evening, and night.

His thrusts were slow, deep and demanding. Eliciting a noise with each thrust, his fingers were digging into her hip, his own soft moans intertwining with hers. They really did sound beautiful together. Nails were scratching down his back where heels were pressing into and his pace quickened.

“So beautiful, keep making those sounds for me, love.” Harry whispered as he head hung in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. His words came out hot and passionate, “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve thought about this. You feel even better than I imagined so tight, warm and perfect.”

That seemed to have done something because the next thing Harry knew Y/N’s hips were moving to meet his and she was saying his name like a prayer. Fuck, she was close and damn it, he was too.

Harry shifted his weight to one hand beside her head while his other hand slipped between them, his thumb finding her clit and working the bundle of nerves to bring her over the edge. And boy, did it.

The sight before him was forever burned into the back of his head along with a noise of pure ecstasy that he wished could be his ringtone. It was beautiful enough to be.

Her eyes rolled back, nails dug in hard enough that Harry hissed, and the literal scream that erupted from her. Well, what man’s ego could ever recover from that?

“Fuck, fuck!” Harry panted, trusts erratic, the sounds of skin against skin filled the air and then, with a shudder that he will never forget, Harry buried himself deep inside her wasn’t released into the condom, a string of curses and her name falling from his parted lips as his eyes squeezed shut.

Harry was in complete bliss, that is until he heard soft giggles below him. His brows furrowed, his eyes opening slowly to look down at Y/N’s glowing and smiling face.

“Excuse me?” Harry acted like he was offended but his completely blissed out smile gave him away fully. His voice was a bit shaky as he tried to catch his breath. That just made her giggle more and he suddenly found it unfair that she was able to breath so easily while he felt like he just ran a marathon.

“You have a cute cum face.” She poked his cheek where his dimple would be and like magic it appeared, along with a grin. “Oh, bloody hell.” Harry groaned as he carefully pulled out, his muscles aching but he didn’t mind.

It wasn’t his first rodeo, he pulled off the condom, Y/N held up the bin that she conveniently kept next to her bed and he tossed it inside. They really made a good team.

Harry made himself comfortable in the bed before he pulled Y/N into his chest, his chin atop her head and a smile that couldn’t be erased off of either of their faces.

“Ya’know. I’ve liked you for a while now.” Harry whispered into the air. His confession, if you could even call it that, was met with laughter.

“Yeah, no shit.”

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