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jezebelblues · 6 months ago

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𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 | 𝐇.𝐒 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬—𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞.

𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲.

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ fingering, penetration (p in v), a smidge of spanking, mommy issues, 2016!harry, angst, i guess. all in upper case if that gets u goin. fem!reader, unedited cause i fell asleep writing this. gn. mwah :*

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 17k

❏ burning hill by mitski teehee !! was the main inspo for this

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

It’s been fifteen months since the group announced their hiatus.

Phone calls became scarce, and so many words were left unspoken, drifting into that space where they might never find their way back. For the first time in years, he felt free—untethered from the rhythm of living intertwined with three other lives. At first, the quiet felt unbearable, like the silence after the crowd fades and the lights go down. But slowly, the loneliness began to feel like home. A strange sort of comfort in the quiet. He found a semblance of privacy—at least a bit more than he had in the band.

Harry felt that, since the hiatus, the fans had grown older with him, their wide-eyed fascination dulled by time and reality. There were fewer frantic moments, fewer desperate hands pulling at him. Now, on a good day, he could stroll through his hometown, maybe get stopped for a polite photo. Occasionally, there were still shadows trailing him—paparazzi or a fan trying to be invisible but failing, always just out of reach. He didn’t like it, not really, but he’d learned to live with it. It’s what came with the territory, a price he thought he’d long accepted.

But it was the writing that kept him grounded. Kept him real. The one thing that still felt like his own. His debut album was close to finished now, though the mixing, the rewrites, the constant tweaking—it never felt like enough. There was this tightness inside him, a knot of anxiety that refused to unravel. Would anyone like Harry styles, the solo artist? Or would they always only care about Harry, the boy in the band?

He wasn’t ungrateful, not for a second. But deep down, he craved something more. He needed the space to finally figure out what he wanted, to break free, to become something else entirely. Something new.

It’s been eight months since he met YN.

It was happenstance, through his manager—though sometimes Harry liked to imagine it was fate. It was one of those coincidences that felt too deliberate to be real, like something out of a half-finished song. She was Jeff’s goddaughter, on the periphery of his world, but until then, she’d been just another name mentioned in passing.

YN started her internship at the recording studio in the beginning of April of this year. She moved to New York with a close friend shortly after her twenty first birthday, saving up for what felt like forever, and Jeffery instantly had the idea of corroborating with the studio about an internship. He knew of her uncertainty about the future. He knew about the interest in music YN had, and he wanted to give her a chance.

Jeff had told her it was a paid internship, though it really wasn’t. He was the one who was paying her through check, under the guise of the studio. She would freak if she found out, turning it all down—Jeff knew that all too well.

Her first month was moreso about passing time. She’d work on any logistics, learning about the soundboard and how it worked hand in hand with the recording aspect, not to mention the process of remastering, mixing, finalizing. Harry was in and out those first three weeks, still finishing up a few interviews and whatnot. YN talked to him a few times when he’d pop in before taking off again, he was sweet. Still, she needed something to do until he was finally able to settle down to focus on one of the last stretches of the album—and giving her busywork was just that.

She wasn’t supposed to be at the office that day in May, but Jeff made her come along before they would continue their constant work at the drawing table, in the booth. It was the day he decided to cut his hair—and there she was, sitting quietly on the edge of the room, trying not to be seen, caught up in the swirl of conversations she didn’t quite belong to yet. There was something about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on. The way she observed everything, but didn’t feel the need to make herself known. A quiet confidence, maybe, or just a complete lack of pretense.

When she offered to help with the cut, everyone laughed, but he said yes. He didn’t know why, maybe because she didn’t treat it like this big, defining moment. The whole world was making such a fuss about his hair, like that was all he was, all he’d ever be. But YN? She just smiled, grabbed the scissors, and got to work. No ceremony, no theatrics—just a few careful snips, and suddenly he was lighter, like he could breathe again.

Afterward, they’d joked about how she should switch careers. But she’d only smiled that same quiet smile and said she was more interested in being on the other side of music. She was learning everything she could. At first, she was just there, hovering at the edge of things. But before long, she was everywhere. Quietly slipping into conversations, offering up ideas that stuck with him long after she’d left the room.

She wasn’t like the people he usually worked with. She wasn’t starry-eyed, wasn’t afraid of him or the idea of him. YN spoke to the brunette like he was just a guy making music, figuring things out. And maybe that’s what drew him in, slowly at first, then all at once. She didn’t see Harry Styles, the soloist. She saw Harry—the restless, uncertain man who wasn’t sure if he was running from his past or trying to carve out a future. He was human, an equal, not an enigma.

He caught himself thinking about her more than he should, replaying their conversations in his head when he was alone in his flat, the silence pressing in around him. She had this way of getting under his skin without even trying, making him wonder if he’d been doing everything wrong up until now. Or maybe, just maybe, she was the first person to make him feel like he didn’t need to have all the answers.

There was something magnetic about her, a pull he couldn’t quite shake. He’d see her in the studio, headphones on, scribbling notes on a track they’d been working on, her brow furrowed in concentration. She cared about the music, really cared, and he respected that more than he could say. In the rare moments she’d look up and catch him watching, she’d smile—soft and unassuming, as if she wasn’t at the center of this storm he was slowly getting lost in.

He’d thought about it, late at night when the studio was empty, and all he had were his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if it was the music that kept him coming back, or if it was something else entirely.

But the truth was, ever since she walked into his life, the world didn’t feel as heavy. It didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

YN had a quiet way of carrying herself, something light and untouchable, like she’d mastered the art of being present without ever fully giving herself away. It was part of what made her so magnetic, Harry thought, but it also kept her at arm’s length—just out of reach. The more time he spent with her, the more he sensed there were pieces of her story she wasn’t ready to share, things she held onto with a grip so tight, it almost hurt to watch.

Her father had been older when she was born, older than Jeff was, at least—a man who had already been through his share of mistakes and regrets by the time he met Jeffery in college. YN’s dad had been trying to start over, to build something solid for himself after years of wandering. They clicked right away—two guys who didn’t have much in common on the surface, but who understood each other in the ways that mattered. Jeff was young, still wide-eyed and ambitious, while YN’s father had lived a little longer, seen more of the mess the world had to offer. They bonded over that, and when YN was born, Jeff had been right there, practically family.

YN’s mother had left when she was just a baby. No warning, no messy custody battle, just gone. Her dad was the moon, always there—faintly during the day when he worked, but always present by night. Her mother was a solar eclipse, popping up in certain areas every now and then, but never staying. Maybe she’d call and wish her a belated happy birthday, or send a card for Christmas that year. She was always fleeting. And YN thought herself the stars, always there, always ever connected to the two despite time and space.

So, her father had raised her on his own, doing his best with what little he had. Jeff had been named godfather not long after her birth, and though he didn’t say much about it, YN knew he’d always carried a quiet kind of guilt. Like maybe if he’d been around more, her life might’ve been different. She never blamed him, of course—she adored Jeff, looked at him like he was some kind of anchor in her life, a second father figure, someone she could always count on. But there was no denying that a part of her had been shaped by absence, by the cold reality of her mother’s abandonment.

She didn’t talk about her mother much. When they’d first started getting to know each other, Harry had asked her once—offhandedly, without thinking—and the way her expression shifted, the way her walls shot up so quickly, he knew not to push. He’d seen it before, in himself, the instinct to hide away when the past felt too close.

Harry didn’t know much about her. They hadn’t talked about personal things, not really. Her past wasn’t something she talked about, not with anyone, and especially not with people like Harry—people who had the world’s attention, people who might think she was just another girl with a tragic backstory. But he knew she was Jeff’s goddaughter, that she was interning at the studio, trying to figure out if music was the career she wanted. He knew her favorite artist and color, knew her favorite subject in school and her best friend’s name—Marisol. He knew she preferred sunsets over sunrises, mountains and forests over beaches. But it felt superficial, barely scraping the surface. He wanted to know more. She seemed talented, driven, but there was something else—something in the way she held herself back.

There were moments when he’d catch her smile, but it was always soft, fleeting. Like she was offering a glimpse of something deeper but never letting him get too close. It intrigued him, the way she could be so kind yet so guarded, as if she’d learned not to give too much away. It was a look he recognized, one he saw in himself sometimes, when the weight of expectations and the uncertainty of his solo career pressed too heavily on his shoulders. But with YN, it felt different. It felt like something that had been there long before she ever stepped into the studio.

Moving to New York had been her way of starting over. She’d wanted to escape the weight of her past, to carve out a life that was her own. Jeff had given her that opportunity, and even though she hadn’t been sure it was what she wanted at first, she found herself falling into the rhythm of it. The work was hard sometimes, but it felt good, like maybe she was finally building something of her own. But even here, in this new city with new faces, YN still felt that familiar pull—the instinct to keep her distance, to protect herself from getting too attached.

He wasn’t sure she’d let him in, anyway. YN was like that—careful, cautious. Maybe she always would be.

In June, a little over two months since YN started working in the studio, she and Harry had formed an easy, steadying friendship. YN wasn’t like most people in his world. She understood his music in a way that felt rare—intimately, deeply, as if she could feel the weight of each word before he even sang it. It touched him more than he could admit.

But as much as he was drawn to her, Harry could sense the distance she kept between them. It wasn’t obvious, not in a way anyone else would notice, but there was a part of YN that stayed hidden. She had a warmth to her—she was kind, smart, and always knew exactly what to say when he asked for her help. But when it came to the deeper parts of herself, the parts Harry desperately wanted to know, she stayed locked away. He saw it in the way she smiled when something hit too close to home, or the way she never let conversations stray too far from the task at hand. It was as though she’d built an invisible wall around herself, and no one—not even him—was allowed through.

But he knew better than to push. For now, their connection revolved around the music.

Sometime in early June, they were hunched over in their usual studio chairs, working on the final track of his debut album. The song had taken weeks to perfect, but they were close now—closer than they had been. From the Dining Table was raw, achingly personal and YN, somehow, had helped him shape it into something even more honest than it had started.

“What if you lean into the third verse more?” She suggested, her pen tapping the page thoughtfully. "The emotion's there, but it's like you're not letting yourself feel it fully. Especially in that second verse–maybe one day you’ll me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too. You're pulling back right when you should lean into it."

Harry stopped playing with the strings on his guitar and looked up at her, brow furrowed. "What do y’mean?"

She hummed, biting her lip as she considered the words, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper. “Maybe drop the keys lower in the last chorus..” She trailed off, lost in her own thought process. She shifted in her chair, leaning forward slightly as she studied the lyrics. "It's heavy, but it could be even more vulnerable. You're singing about something really personal here, about the kind of loneliness that feels like it's eating you alive. But in the melody, it feels..safe. I think you need to make the vocals feel a bit more broken, like you're barely holding it together. Let the silence in the song do some of the work. Think about pulling back on the production, too–keep it more stripped down.” She laughed lightly, a bit sheepish. “If that makes sense.”

Harry nodded slowly, the words hanging in the air between them. She got it. She always got it. The lyrics had been twisting inside him for weeks, and it was YN’s careful guidance that had finally helped him pull them into something real, something tangible. He picked up his guitar, adjusting the chords she mentioned, and played the verse again. The notes hung heavier in the air this time, more space, more quiet.

“There.” YN murmured. “That’s what it needed—the space between the words, the silence. That's where the emotion is."

For the next few hours, they went back and forth, fine-tuning the melody and adjusting the lyrics. YN suggested cutting down the instrumentation, making it feel more intimate, like a conversation Harry was having with himself. And as the song started to take shape, Harry felt a weight lifting. It’s what he wanted for the song, it deserved this rawness, this vulnerability.

Over the next two weeks, they worked tirelessly on the track, tweaking the lyrics, adjusting the production. YN had suggested subtle changes in the arrangement—adding faint background harmonies, letting the piano take the lead in certain sections. It was her idea to introduce a low hum in the final chorus, something atmospheric that made the song feel like it was dissolving into the empty spaces of the room. Harry trusted her instincts completely by now, her intelligence and understanding of the music so sharp that he barely needed to question her advice. She had a way of knowing what the song needed, even when he couldn’t see it himself.

By the time they reached the last day of recording that track, the song had transformed into something that felt like a piece of his soul, laid bare for the world to hear. It was time to play it for the team, to record the final version that would make it onto the album. She didn’t hear it in its entirety yet, only the parts Harry would reveal that he wanted insight on.

The band was ready, gathered behind their instruments, and the rest of the team sat in the control room, waiting to hear what he had spent weeks perfecting. The studio felt heavier than usual, the air thick with anticipation. Harry glanced over at YN, who was standing by the glass that separated the studio from the control room, her arms crossed loosely in front of her. She was watching him, as she always did, but there was something different in her eyes tonight. He couldn’t place it—something softer, more vulnerable than usual.

Harry picked up his guitar, gave the band a nod, and stepped up to the mic. The first notes echoed through the room, soft and haunting. His voice followed, low and steady, each lyric pouring out an isolation he had written into the song, each verse dripping in melancholy. The room around him seemed to blur, and for a moment, it was just him, the music, and the truth of what he was singing.

“Maybe one day you’ll call me, and tell me that you’re sorry, too.”

His voice cracked slightly on the word sorry, just as it had in practice. But this time, it felt different. More real. More final.

As the song continued, Harry’s gaze flickered over to YN. She was still standing by the glass, but something had changed. Her arms had fallen to her sides, and her eyes were fixed on him, wide and shimmering with unshed tears. It was subtle at first—a quick blink, a shift of her expression—but then he saw it. A tear slipped down her cheek, and YN quickly brushed it away, trying to hide the emotion that was overtaking her.

But she couldn’t. Not this time.

By the time the song ended, the room was filled with the soft, fading echoes of the final notes. Harry stood still, the guitar resting against his chest, his breath uneven. He watched as YN slowly stepped forward, closer to the glass, her eyes still glistening. She rested her hand gently on the pane, the only thing separating them, and gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

It was all he needed. That nod, that single moment of unspoken approval, meant more than words ever could. She understood—she always had. But seeing her moved by the song, seeing the tears she tried so hard to hide, told Harry more about her than she’d ever let on.

For the first time, Harry felt like he had reached her core, even if just for a second. And as the team buzzed with quiet admiration for the track, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from YN. Because in that small, fragile moment, she had let her walls down. Just enough.

And Harry realized, standing there with the music still humming through his veins, that maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt something more between them. Maybe YN wasn’t as unreachable as he had once thought.

July had seemed to’ve breeze past, almost gone in a daze. It was Friday, and there would only be two more Fridays left till they would have to flip the colander pages to August. The heat of the day still mingled in the air as the studio settled into its usual weekend quiet. The crew had all left for the night, tired but satisfied after wrapping another long day of recording. The album was nearing completion, and the tension that had built up over the past few months was finally starting to lift. Harry could feel it—the sense of relief, of something monumental coming to an end—but there was still so much hanging in the air between him and YN, at least that’s what he felt.

They were alone in the lounge now, the soft glow of the low lights casting faded shadows on the walls. YN sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she sipped from a recently topped-off flute of champagne, her eyes tired but content. They had opened the bottle to celebrate finishing another track, Two Ghosts. YN wasn’t there when the production first started for this song, only there for the finalized remastering of it that finished today—and she had insisted he must celebrate, the fizzy sweetness a small reward for everything he’s been pouring into the album.

"Cheers!” Harry had laughed, clinking his glass against hers with a lopsided grin. "One more down."

He didn’t quite remember what glass he was on, but he could feel the familiar buzz of being tipsy, like he could float. Besides the lounge, the rest of the building was dark, only light seeping through was from the city outside. Harry leaned back against the arm of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, the remnants of his drink swirling lazily in his glass. He felt relaxed—more relaxed than he had in weeks. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the fact that they were finally nearing the end of the album. But it wasn't just that. It was YN, too.

And god, she looked gorgeous.

She dressed down for the day, knowing it was Friday and she could fall into bed as soon as she got home. A hoodie hung loosely over her frame, the pair of lounge shorts coming a little bit above her mid thigh. The alcohol seemed to give her eyes more of a sparkle, her skin flush—Harry wondered if alcohol could make him look as pretty as she, but he ended up on the conclusion of probably not.

“I know I said this already.” She giggled, taking a sip of the bubbly. Her smile was hazy, eyes clouded over. “But the song sounds great.” She enthusiastically sent him a thumbs up, the bottom of his feet against the bend of her knees as his legs remained sprawled out over the couch. The curly haired boy already asked if he should move to give her more space, but her dismissal was a shouted, pleading whine of no, stay! “You should be famous or something.” She sent him a wink, and he couldn’t stifle the laughter that escaped him from how slow and exaggerated she’d done it.

The lightness in the air was contagious, and they both seemed to be floating, untethered and free from the usual tension. He rested his temple against the back cushion of the sofa, his lazy grin seemingly impossible to wipe off. “Dunno, sounds like a lot of work. Maybe I’ll jus’ start a bakery instead.” He shrugged, taking a swig of what was left in the flute after parting ways between his head and the cushion beside him. “Styles’ Pies, what d’you think?”

YN snorted, nearly spilling her champagne as she pictured it. “You? In a bakery? I don’t even think you can make toast without burning it.”

Harry’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Hey, m’great in the kitchen. You’ve just never seen me in action.”

“Oh really?” YN arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. She set her glass down on the table, waving her hand as if conducting an imaginary cooking show. “Alright, Chef Styles, what’s your signature dish? Burnt toast with a side of undercooked eggs?”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I? That was one time!”

“Ah-ha!” She teased, biting her lip to hold back another laugh. “You know, they might not even let you into the bakery with that track record. Health code violations, and all.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry huffed, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll have you know, I’m actually a master at making..” He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Pancakes.”

YN burst into laughter again, this time nearly doubling over, gently clasping her fingers around his ankles for support. “Pancakes? Oh god, I bet you’d flip them right onto the floor.”

“Oi, that’s not true!” Harry was laughing now too, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the easy back-and-forth. YN had placed her hands back into her lap after grabbing her glass again, legs still tucked underneath her. “I’ve got skills. Just wait. I’ll cook f’you one day, and you’ll be begging for more. You’ll never want to leave m’kitchen.”

She wiped away a tear from her drunken laughter, a banter that probably would not be as entertaining if she was sober. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be your taste tester—but don’t be mad if I spit it out.”

“Oh, y’ruthless tonight, huh?” He nudged her playfully with his foot, legs still draped along the sofa. “Well, if pancakes don’t win y’over, I’ll just serenade you with some of m’songs. You won’t stand a chance.”

YN’s laughter turned into a snort as she brought the flute to her lips, taking another sip before grinning at him. “Woo me with your guitar? Play a little ditty about burnt toast?”

Harry leaned forward, dramatically mimicking strumming an invisible guitar, his expression serious as he sang, “Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two..”

YN feigned a cringe, holding her ands out in front of her as if to block the very sight of him. The tune was cute, but she would never admit that. Harry could barely keep it together as he leaned back against the sofa’s arm, rolling his eyes as she finally lowered her hands. “And I’ll have you know I worked n’a bakery in Holmes Chapel, favorite employee, too.”

“My god, aren’t you a prodigy?” She smiled, tilting her head to the side as if pretending to be bashful. “Singer, songwriter, baker of the month.”

“Y’damn right.”He tipped an imaginary hat on his head, “I contain multitudes.” He winked, a better one that YN had sent earlier, his grin wide and a little bit tipsy.

They sat in the comfortable silence that followed, both of them still chuckling under their breath, the champagne buzzing through their veins like a soft lullaby. Harry glanced over at YN, her face flushed from laughter, her body relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen before. She looked free. Happy. And it did something to his chest, a tug he couldn’t ignore.

“Hey.” he said softly, stretching his ankle ever so slightly to gently nudge her knee with his foot. “Y’having fun?”

She nodded, her smile softening as she glanced at him. “Yeah. I am.” Her voice was quieter now, the playful energy of a moment ago still lingering, but with something else creeping in. Something softer, more intimate.

Harry smiled back, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always did around her. “Good, m’glad.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, her words coming out slower, as if she was trying to steady herself. “You’re..not what I expected.”

Harry tilted his head, a curious smirk tugging at his lips. “What’d y’expect?”

She hummed, “Don’t know.” She said with a shrug, her fingers tracing absentminded circles on the cushion. “Someone a little more, I don’t know–untouchable? Like, y’know, the harry styles,’ the big deal. But you’re just harry styles, my friend.”

He laughed softly, playing with the hem of his bright pink shorts. “Jus’ me, huh? Guess that’s not s’bad.”

“It’s not.” She smiled, her eyes locking with his, and for a moment, something passed between them. Something heavier, like an acknowledgment of everything unspoken.

Harry shifted, suddenly aware of how close they had gotten during her revelation. His hand, which had been resting on her knee, slid a little higher, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her thigh. The playful banter was still there, but it was quieter now, replaced by a tension that neither of them could deny any longer.

“Y’know.”she said, breaking the silence with a small smile. “I still don’t believe you can make pancakes.”

His eyes darkened with a mixture of amusement and something deeper as he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should make you breakfast tomorrow morning then.”

YN’s breath hitched, her pulse quickening at his words, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Harry’s lips were on hers. She instantly melted into it, as if an instinct. However, after a beat, the palm of her hand pressed against his shoulder. Their lips slowly separated, strings of saliva snapping at the middle from their mutual departure. Her breath rose and fell rapidly, a small smile on her lips. “How are you gonna make pancakes at the st–.”

Harry had cut her off with a groan, but it was humorous, mixed with his giggles. “Y’stopped that t’get technical?”

YN shrugged before pulling him back into the kiss, unwavering, still. It was tentative for a moment, as if he was waiting for her to push away again, but she didn’t. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, lips in sync as she deepened their kiss.

The taste of the fruity champagne lingered between them, intoxicating and heady. It grew hungrier, more desperate as if months of unresolved tension had finally snapped. YN’s tongue found itself swiping a soft stripe against his bottom lip, a heavy sigh emerging from him as his fingers brushed along the hem of her hoodie, slipping his hands underneath, his palm resting on the warm curve of her waist.

“H–” She whispered against his lips, her voice breathy, almost a plea. But it wasn’t a plea to stop—it was a plea for more.

His name on her lips drive him mad. With a low grown, he shifted, pulling her into his lap in one fluid motion. Her legs straddled him, holding herself as close to him as she could, their kisses turning feverish. His large hands pulled her even closer—not a centimeter of space to be left. He parted his lips, a broken breath tumbling from his mouth as she started to roll her hips against his growing cock stuck underneath the hot pink shorts.

His ring clad fingers slip father up her hoodie, the coolness of the medal a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off the both of them. Harry tugged on the fabric, pulling it over her head in a rush, revealing the thin bralette underneath. “Fuck–” He mumbled, breath caressing her skin as his lips skimmed the bone of her jawline, placing a slow, tentative kiss right at her pulse point. “So beautiful.” He was drunk in the moment that was her—figuratively and literally—his voice distant and light, like a voice breaking through a daydream.

She rolled her hips harder against him as his hands slipped under the hem of her shorts, lips sloppily trailing her chest, her nose buried in his curls. A soft moan is drawn from her as Harry’s hands grip her ass, aiding her movements of dry humping his cock. His tongue grazed the fleshy part of her breast that threatened to spill out of her bra, a shuddering exhale brushing from her lips, right into his disheveled locks.

She hastily cups his chin, pulling him from her chest to messily kiss him again. She wanted to taste the faint peach on his tongue from the champagne, to feel the stubble above his lip tickling against her. They both moaned into each other’s mouths, her fingers running down his shirt, tugging at the hem. He smiles, parting from her to pull his shirt off. It was rushed, his chin getting caught in the collar which made laughter sit between them comfortably. YN gently helps him pull the shirt from his head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, its whereabouts not a priority.

Their cheeks are flush, lips plump and vibrant as they fall into each other’s eyes—their giggles fading out and their heavy breaths replacing it. “I want you.” She whispered, her gaze trailing from his eyes, to his lips, along the markings of his torso, then back up again.

He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers with a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

She hummed, though it sounded similar to a purr—a divinely feminine melody that made him twitch under the fabric that held him from her. “Yeah.”

He gives her a quick peck before tapping her thigh and guiding her off his lap. He looks at her as his thumb slips under the waistband of both his shorts and boxers, his glance expectant of some sort of approval or denial.

Her hands reach back behind her, unclasping the bra and letting the straps fall from her shoulders; to which he took that as his go ahead. Harry bucks his hips from the couch, tugging the clothing down his legs and letting it fall onto the floor. His cock slapped against his abdomen from the sheer force of how quickly he freed himself. It was bigger than she had expected, the head a pretty pink that glistened with precum.

He didn’t give her a chance to react for herself as he pulled along her bare waist, ushering YN back onto him. He planted kisses along her breast, the hem of her shorts sitting right against his chest, his large hands holding her inches above the cock she so desperate to fill herself up with.

His tongue encircled the bud of her nipple, one hand still gripping her ass to keep her pressed against his chest, above his length—while the other fell a tad lower, his index and middle finger slipping underneath the leg of her shorts and panties, brushing along her wet folds.

She could feel his lips spread into a smirk before he began to suck on her nipple. She buried her face into his curls, grasping onto the roots as his digits sat at the entrance of her core, heat radiating from her cunt as her arousal soaked the tips of his fingers. She whimpers, wanting to grind down on them and fill her up until his knuckles sat harshly against her folds, but he held her in place—the grip on the soft part of her ass feeling rougher. He looks up at her through his eyelashes, though her face is hidden in his hair, he still revels in it. “Y’that desperate for it, hm?”

She nods against the top of his head, eyes squeezing shut. “Yes, Harry.” She whined, fingers tightly laced between his locks. “Fuck–please, I need it.”

His mouth finds its way back to her tits as he eases his thick fingers into her cunt, tauntingly slow. Her walls fluttered around him, a soft moan escaping her as he pumped his fingers in and out, the sound of her wetness was hot, filthy—the way it bounced around the room. It only made him harder knowing that no one else will know what happened here besides them.

He curls his digits into a spot that makes her hips buck harder against his chest, a yelp emitting from the top of her throat, which he takes as a moment to smack the fleshy part of her ass, it wasn’t very hard, as if he was testing the waters to try to understand what she needed. Judging from the noises she made, and how her bum seemed to push a slight wiggle into the palm of his hand, he figured she liked it.

He pumps his fingers faster, his knuckles almost pounding against her core as he sneaks the opportunity to spank her again. A string of profanities and whiny pleas fell from her, her hands falling to a grip on his shoulders as he coaxed her to the brink of coming on just his fingers alone.

His lips are sloppy against her chest, more focused on how his digits buried themselves into her pussy. Her words aren’t coherent, a ringing faint in her ears as she tightens around him, her hips erupting into a shudder as she rides out her orgasm. He lightens the grip from her bum, allowing her to roll her hips with his fingers still deep inside her, basking in how she tried to milk herself of every drop she could.

Once her movements still, he slowly pulls out of her, the two making eye contact as he brings the two fingers to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them prettily, licking her arousal from the source.

Her breaths were heavy, eyes darkened as she watched the dirtiest thing play out in front of her. His eyes flutter to a close, a smirk speaking across his lips as if it was the most heavenly thing he’s tasted; she already feels the knot in her tummy tightening again.

She pulls him into a kiss, meeting each other harshly as she tastes herself from his lips. His hands brush along the small of her back, then to her hips, slipping the shorts and panties down her legs and off her ankles with an awkward, momentary shift in position to do so. She lowers herself as much as he’d allow, his lips stilling as he feels her heat against the head of his cock. He pulls away slightly, forehead against hers with a small flicker of disappointment on his features. “I don’t have a condom.” His voice low and raspy, thick with lust as he held her against him once again, unable to fill herself as she desired.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, eyes meeting his. “M’on the pill.” She whispered, voice breathy and light from her previous orgasm.

His eyebrows furrowed, gaze unwavering in hers. This is something he normally would never do, fucking someone unprotected. But the way his cock ached for her was damn near painful, and he trusted her. A friend he’d come to cherish, although in the back of his mind, he wanted her more than a friend. He darted his eyes between hers and the way her tummy fluttered with heavy breath. His glance was expectant again, silently needing approval to even think of continuing.

She wiggled her hips in his grasp once more, her a whiny plea a soft mutter—and it’s all he needed to hear. She sank onto his length, a slow strain befell them from how he had to ease his cock into her pussy, stretching her out with every upward motion of his hips.

The feeling of him filling her was addicting to both, pleasured sighs and moans emitting from each of them as she adjusted around his length, sinking down the shaft completely. Only a beat had past before she started to roll her hips into him, adjusting to the feeling of him. One hand sat sprawled against her back, will the other remained on her ass. Harry’s head leaned along the edge of the couch, watching through half-lidded eyes at the way her tits moved as she began to bounce on his length, having him draw sharp inhale at the feeling. “Jus’ like that.” He groaned, the hand on her back and bum guiding her movements. “Good girl–y’feel so good, jus–” He cuts off his own sentence with a moan, his head falling forward now, just a bit. His forehead grazed along her shoulder—barely—every time she’d bob up the length of his cock. “Like that, bunny–fuck.” His voice was breathy, listening to the pretty moans that escaped her and the way her cunt sounded riding his cock.

His hand slid down her back, both gripping her ass a bit roughy as he guided her movements with more force. Her lips fell agape, a whimper falling out now and then as Harry held her weight as if it was nothing, moving her up and down his thick cock with an ease that made her cry out his name.

He pushed and pulled her onto him greedily, her head falling onto his shoulder as he rested his chin on hers, watching as he pounded her onto the base of his length. The sharp sounds of skin against skin mixed in with their moans, a cacophony of their pleasure filling the lounge.

He loosened his grip from her bum, smacking her ass as his other hand gathered her hair into his fist, jerking her head back to force a semblance of eye contact. The palm of his other hand rested over her thigh, continuing to guide her movements though the momentum from her own hands against his shoulders was enough.

He knew he was close, and the way her noises got louder, how her cunt tightened around him—Harry knew she was close, too. The tiny fraction of him that held an ounce of logic through his drunken pleasure told him to pull out, but it fell to the back of his mind, silenced with the sound of his own moans and the way his length twitched, the knot in his belly rounding tightly. “Look at me.” He forced through a grunt, his toes curling against the carpet and his jaw tightened as he tried to stall his release.

The grip on his shoulders was lethal, though the only thing he could feel was her pussy fluttering around him. Her hair was still balled tightly in his fist, craning her head into a position where their foreheads were only a few inches away—the only thing that would keep her from looking if she closed her eyes. She wouldn’t though.

His hand pushed harder against her thigh, both of their skin flushed a pink from the force of the contact of the way her ass and thighs slapped along his pelvis. “Say my name–” His groan was guttural, as if he was teetering on the edge of losing his composure. With his grip still in her hair, he pressed her forehead into his, both slick with a gleam of sweat. “When you come—say it.” He grunted, eyes meeting hers once again. “Or I won’t let you.”

She felt her legs to tremble, her lips parting as the cries and whimpers of his name escaped her like a mantra. His chest rose and fell unevenly, pressing her forehead into hers further as they met their release simultaneously. Thick ropes of come fill her cunt to the point where it drips out around him. Their breaths are heavy and quick, his hands soft against the skin of her legs as they tremble, pressing his lips atop her shoulders as she sinks into his chest.

The next morning arrived in a hazy blur. The sky was gray as it prepared itself for a summer thunderstorm. The pitter-patter of rain hitting the window caused him to stir first, a wince from feeling the stiffness in his neck before anything else. His back was pressed awkwardly into the couch, his arm draped around something soft and warm. He blinked his eyes open, the dull light from the stormy sky offering not very much of anything as it bled through the blinds. The familiar scent of the studio mixed with something more intoxicating—YN.

He nudged his chin down to glance at the girl curled up on his chest, his shirt from last night adorning her frame as soft snores fell from her mouth. Their legs were tangled together underneath a thin throw blanket with Christmas patterns he didn’t remember grabbing before passing out. The events of last night came in a rushed haze from the smell of the champagne on his own breath. He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but the movement pulled YN from her slumber. She let out a small groan before nuzzling deeper into his bare chest, not wanting to let go of the warmth.

The smell of Harry’s cologne caused her eyes to peel open, her brow furrowing in confusion as she took in her surroundings.

“Morning.” Harry had rasped out, voice still thick with sleep.

She blinked, and then placed her palms against his chest to push herself up. She glanced around the studio with the turn of her head, then back at Harry with an unreadable expression. Her hair was disheveled, Harry’s discarded shirt hung loosely around her—she could feel the thickness of his come seeping out of her, pooling in her underwear and forming a dampened spot. “Oh my god.”

He winced involuntarily, and this time it wasn’t from the ache in his neck. “Um.” He paused, voice cautious. “Yeah.”

YN bit her lip, sitting up fully as she slipped into a spot between his thighs. The cushion was soft against her bum as she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Yeah.” She echoed his words, unsure of what to say.

Harry had scoot up slightly, the small of his back against the arm of the sofa. He rubbed his neck, sighing from the crick he developed for sleeping in such an awkward position. “Are you okay?”

She looked at him, her eyes still a bit dazed from the remnants of sleep and the weight of their shared moment. YN offered him a small smile, “Mhm.” She hummed, but an uncertainty glimmered along the edge of her pupil, unsure of what came next. “Not exactly used to waking up like this, I guess–but I’m okay.”

He nodded slowly, though a frown threatened to spread across his lips. He reached out hesitantly, palm resting on her knee as he sighed. “You regret it?” He asked, though it sounded rhetorical.

Her face seemed to soften at his words, sincerity and a hint of hurt evident in his expression. A furrow formed in her forehead as she shook her head, placing a hand on top of the one he sat on her knee. “No, H. ‘Course not.” She paused, shifting in her seat before forcing herself to stand, his hand slipping from her knee back into his own lap. It felt cold, and he knew she was pulling away. She very quickly stripped Harry’s shirt off—to which he averted his eyes to the ground—shrugging back on her own hoodie and shorts.

“YN.” Harry mumbled, his voice shaking as he pulled his shirt back over his head. She seemed distracted, slipping her shoes back on and putting her phone into the hoodie pocket before she trailed back toward Harry, gazing down at where he sat on the couch. He had looked at her the way he always seemed to look at her, eyes full of things that would stay unsaid. “What does this mean?”

She kneeled before him almost immediately, combing her fingers through his hair in a moment of comfort. “Doesn’t have to mean anything.” Her voice was soft, kind, as if that was the thing he wanted to hear. “We’re friends, this won’t make it weird, okay?”

He could feel his heart sink into his stomach as he nodded with slight trepidation, wishing she would just open herself up and allow him to hold her, to show her that he wouldn’t let go. “I don’t regret it, never ever.” She murmured, ducking her head down a bit to meet his gaze that seemed to lower at her words. “I swear it.”

He forced a smile, her hand pulling away from his curls—the curls she previously moaned into, the hair that she tangled her fingers in from an orgasm that crashed over her like a wave. He swallowed dryly as she back stood up, still not looking away from him. A defeat settled over him, an impatient longing as he realized if he was ever going to have a chance with the woman before him, he’d have to wait. He didn’t know what pain she held, the things she guarded so strongly, but he knew she would have to admit to herself first that she was worthy of something good. Harry parted his lips, taking a deep breath to keep his voice steady. “Stay friends?” He asked expectantly, holding out a pinky to her.

She smiled, a sad one, however. She wanted to wrap him into her arms and apologize for making the choice to walk away, but she felt it was best. YN believed she wasn’t what he deserved, and it would be in his best interest to pretend like everything went back to normal. She lowered her hand, intertwining her pinky with his. “Stay friends.”

On August fourth, The studio was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the late afternoon sun filtering through the one window in the control room. Everyone, besides YN and Harry, went out for their lunch break. Harry had asked if she would help her tweak the soon-to-be third track on the album, Carolina.

Since waking up from the sex they had in the lounge, they hadn’t brought it up—though it didn’t disappear. There would be moments where it loomed over them, heavy and unrelenting. It took everything in them not to bridge that specific gap, took everything in Harry not to bend her over the soundboard to feel her again, took everything in him not to fall to his knees before her, hugging her legs while he cried about how he was helplessly falling for her.

It was the hottest day of the year, and though the air conditioner was humming in a low buzz, the air was thick with warmth. The kind of still, lingering heat that made everything feel slow and hazy, like time itself had paused for a moment. Harry picked up his guitar, fingers brushing over the strings, testing the familiar weight of it in his hands. The sound of the first strum seemed to melt into the air, easy, relaxed, as if the room itself was humming along to the rhythm.

She kneeled down, across from the spot Harry sat on the floor, guitar in lap. She pressed on certain strings on specific parts of the neck, eyes flickering between Harry and the instrument expectantly. They both knew the notes and the chords, the tone it could give. “Try those notes.”She murmured, moving Harry’s Hand from where it sat on the neck to where she wanted his fingers to be. Her touch was delicate, and if Harry didn’t reground himself he would’ve forgot what was happening all together. “Lean into the groove more?” Her words were laced with a light chuckle as she stood up, looking back down at the brunette on the floor. “Loosen up a bassline, could add some layered harmonies, something subtle, but it'll give the track more depth."

Harry's eyes lit up, a spark of excitement that always seemed to come alive when YN shared her thoughts. She had this uncanny way of making the most complex ideas sound simple. He nodded eagerly, strumming a few playful chords, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty studio. "Yeah, that's it.” He whispered to himself excitedly, already hearing the song in his head. He began playing, the cords, melody bright and carefree, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings.

The atmosphere shifted almost instantly—no longer weighed down by deadlines or pressure, but filled with something light. Harry stood up without a word, the grin never leaving his face as he strummed the revisioned tune, the guitar hanging casually from his shoulder as he waltzed across the room, his voice bouncing with the light-hearted lyrics. The brunette’s footsteps were lazy, carefree, his long legs carrying him in wide, exaggerated circles as he moved with the rhythm, his laughter spilling out between the lyrics. It was easy—so easy—that the line between the song and the moment blurred.

“She’s a good girl.”

his voice bright and full of mischief as he twirled past her, catching her eye. He wiggled his eyebrows, a playful challenge, daring her to join in.

YN couldn’t help herself, he was infectious . She laughed, the sound so genuine and pure it filled the air. She pushed away from the soundboard, and before she could even think of hesitation, she was dancing and hopping around in time to the music, letting herself get lost along with him.

“Such a good girl”

She really was, like when he buried himself between her legs a few weeks ago.

The hem of her dainty sundress swept around her shins in a slow, lazy twirl. Her laughter mixed with the sound of the guitar, light and unguarded, like the weight of the world had lifted, just for this one moment.

Harry’s voice followed her as he floated around, his fingers never missing a beat. The melody was effortless, the chords bright and warm like the fading summer light that filled the room. His gaze flicked toward her every few seconds, catching the way she moved, her arms outstretched as she spun in gentle circles, her hair catching the golden light in soft waves.

The whole scene felt like something out of time, like they had stepped into an old, grainy film reel—faded sun, carefree laughter, and the kind of simplicity that made everything else fade into the background. There was no rush, no pressure, just the music and the way they moved through it together.

Harry kept playing, his voice growing louder, more animated, as he circled back to her, his laughter echoing in the small space. He swayed, leaning into the guitar as he strummed, almost tripping over a cable but catching himself at the last second with a dramatic flourish. YN continued her movements, her arms floating through the air, soft and unhurried, like she was dancing with the music itself.

And then, in one smooth motion, Harry waltzed closer, standing just a few feet away from her as he played the final chorus. His smile was wide, eyes bright with the joy of the moment, and YN met his gaze with the same carefree energy, spinning one last time before she collapsed against the stool, breathless from her giggles.

The last chord hung in the air for a moment longer, lingering like the final rays of sunlight spilling through the window. The room was still humming with the energy they’d created, the echoes of their laughter and the bright notes of the guitar lingering in the walls. Harry let the guitar slide gently to his side, leaning against the stool as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling in time with YN’s, her face flushed and glowing. He was grinning, the kind of grin that reached his eyes and made his dimples crater.

For a second, everything felt perfect, untouched by the noise of the outside world. It was just the two of them, the fading summer light, and the echo of a song that hadn’t yet been recorded but already felt like it was carved into their shared memory.

All he wanted to do was kiss her again.

She was perched on her chair now, her legs crossed, still smiling from their little impromptu dance. She glowed with the warmth of the sun filtering in through the window. The carefree, playful energy between them began to settle, but the air didn’t lose its charge. Instead, something softer slipped into the space between them, a kind of comfortable quiet as they both let the last traces of laughter fade away.

Harry wiped a hand across his forehead, pushing back a few stray curls as he looked over at her, the easy grin still tugging at his lips. The guitar rested against his knee as he sat down, but he didn’t play, didn’t move. He was just watching her now, the way her fingers traced absentminded circles on the edge of the stool, the way her gaze was still bright with that unguarded laughter. It was rare to see her like this—unguarded, fully present—and Harry found himself caught in the moment, not wanting it to end.

Just as that night in July, when we pulled her into her chest to sleep for the night—when it felt like he could call her his as he wrapped his arms around her, basking in their afterglow.

YN let out a soft sigh, the last of her breathless laughter leaving her, and when she looked at him, her expression shifted. Something quieter, more serious. The playful glint in her eyes softened into something almost reverent, like she was seeing him—really seeing him.

“You know, Harry.” She smiled, her voice gentle but firm, like she was about to say something important. “This album–” There was a pause as she exhaled through her nose, but it was light from her enthused realization. “It’s going to go down as a classic. It’s real. You’re real. Your talent, the rawness of it—it’s something people won’t forget.”

The words landed between them like a weight, soft but undeniable. Harry felt his heart skip, his smile faltering just slightly as her words settled in. He’d heard compliments before—so many, often thrown around casually—but this… this was different. The sincerity in her voice, the way her eyes held his, unflinching, unwavering, as if she wasn’t just saying something kind, but something true.

For a moment, the room seemed to shift around him. It was like the air grew thicker, the light softer, the world quieter. He felt exposed, in a way he hadn’t expected, like her words had peeled back a layer he’d been hiding under, a layer he hadn’t even realized was there. The compliment wasn’t just about the music, wasn’t just about the work they’d been doing. It felt personal, like she saw him—not the version of him the world saw, not Harry, the soloist, but him, Harry. The guy trying to figure it all out, pouring every piece of himself into this album, hoping that it would matter.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight, and for a second, he wasn’t sure what to say.

He thought about telling her thank you.

He thought about remaining speechless.

No one had told him something like that in a long time—not like this, not with this kind of weight. He could feel his chest tightening, his pulse thrumming a little too fast, the gravity of her words sinking deeper than he thought they would.

He thought about her words.

He thought about her.

“YN, I—” He started to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe she understood him more than he’d ever realized. Maybe that was why her words felt so heavy, why they struck him in a way nothing else had. Because they came from her.

He thought about how much he wanted to say he was starting to fall in love with her.

But before he could say anything else, the door to the studio swung open with a loud creak, breaking the moment like a pebble dropped into still water. The team was back, their voices filling the room as they filed in, the soft hum of conversation and the shuffle of papers cutting through the silence that had wrapped around him and YN.

“Alright, alright, back to it.” Jeff chuckled, ever the dad friend, clapping his hands as he made his way toward the control board. The mood shifted, the studio returning to its usual buzz of activity, the easy rhythm of work settling back into place.

Harry blinked, the spell of the moment breaking as he straightened up, shaking off the sudden heaviness in his chest. YN gave him a small, knowing smile, her eyes still holding a trace of the warmth from before, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She’d already said what mattered.

She knew the look in Harry’s eye.

She had thought about how much she missed him.

She thought about how much that scared her.

With a soft sigh, Harry adjusted the guitar on his lap, nodding as the team gathered around, discussing admin details, technical tweaks, and publicity strategies for the album’s release. The room was buzzing again, the easy laughter and lightness of earlier replaced with the steady hum of work. But Harry’s mind was still lingering on what YN had said, the quiet sincerity of her words looping in the back of his mind.

As the evening stretched on, the work became more mechanical—emails, calls, planning—but Harry’s thoughts kept drifting back to her. He couldn’t shake the way she drifted around the room earlier, like a dandelion wisp dancing in the wind. How her laugh sounded so pretty he wanted to put it in a song. How real it had felt when she’d looked at him and told him what his music would become. It was a compliment, sure, but it was more than that. It was a belief. And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt like someone saw him exactly as he was, and believed in him all the same.

That day at the studio soon began to draw to a close, the golden light from earlier now softening into deep ambers and long shadows. The room, once buzzing with activity, had fallen into a more relaxed rhythm as the team packed up their things, saying their goodbyes with tired but satisfied smiles. The project was moving, inching closer to the finish line.

Harry leaned back, watching from the corner of the room as the last of the crew made their way to the door. The sounds of zippers closing and bags being slung over shoulders filled the space, each member of the team calling out their see-you-laters, their voices fading as they spilled out into the hallway. One by one, they disappeared, until the door swung shut with a final, quiet click, leaving just Harry and YN behind.

The silence settled in slowly, wrapping itself around the room like a warm, familiar blanket. It was the kind of silence that felt more like a presence than an absence, thick and heavy with something unspoken. Harry ran his fingers over the neck of his guitar one last time before placing it back on its stand, the metal strings catching the fading light. His movements were slow, almost deliberate, like he was trying to hold on to the quiet a little longer.

He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that YN was still at the small table near the edge of the room, shuffling her things about. She was moving slower than usual, her hands hovering over her notebook, lingering on the scattered papers like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Harry chuckled softly, the sound breaking the stillness.

“Need help with all that?” he asked, his voice airy, teasing in a way that felt natural between them.

But YN didn’t respond right away. She kept her eyes down, focused on her things, but her movements were stiffer now, less fluid. There was something different in the way she stood there, something quiet but undeniably present—an undercurrent of tension Harry couldn’t quite place. He felt the air shift, that familiar warmth between them suddenly giving way to something more solemn, more guarded.

“YN?” Harry asked, his voice softer now, his smile fading as he stepped toward her. “Everything alright?”

She looked up then, her eyes catching his for the briefest moment before she quickly glanced away again, like she couldn’t hold the gaze for too long. Her expression was calm, but there was a tightness in her jaw, something held back, something she wasn’t sure how to say. She let out a soft sigh, the weight of whatever was on her mind finally beginning to show.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She started, her voice low and measured, like she was carefully choosing each word. “August thirty-first.” She bit the inside of her lip momentarily. “It’ll be my last day here. My internship—it’s ending.”

The words landed between them like a quiet echo, reverberating in the space left behind by the day’s fading energy. Harry felt the weight of them settle in his chest, heavier than he had expected. He knew the internship wouldn’t last forever—of course, he’d known that—but hearing it out loud, hearing it from her, made it feel real in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her, trying to make sense of the sudden tightness in his throat. It felt like the air had been knocked out of him, but he didn’t quite understand why. She was still there, right in front of him, but the idea of her leaving, of this chapter ending, hit him harder than he thought it would.

“Your last day.” He repeated quietly, more to himself than to her, his brows knitting together slightly.

YN nodded, but she didn’t look at him. She busied herself with the papers in her hands, though it was clear she wasn’t really doing anything—just moving things around to avoid the heaviness of the conversation. The atmosphere had changed, charged with an unsaid emotion. It reminded Harry of the way people talk about those long, hot August nights, the kind where the sky is still bright at 9pm, but you can feel autumn creeping in around the edges, making the warmth feel both infinite and fleeting.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet breath as he leaned against the control board. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Part of him wondered if it was because of the sex. A part of him wanted to ask her to stay, to find some reason to keep her there, keep things as they were. But he knew he couldn’t. That wasn’t the way the world worked, no matter how much you wanted to freeze a moment in time.

“How come?” He finally asked, his voice quieter now, softer in a way that mirrored the dimming light of the room.

YN shrugged slightly, her shoulders barely moving. “I’ve known for a bit. It’s temporary, only a summer internship.”

Harry nodded, understanding, though the weight in his chest hadn’t eased. It was hard for him, realizing that after all the late nights, the music, the moments shared, things would change. And YN—who had always kept that quiet distance, who never let anyone too close—wasn’t just leaving the studio. She was leaving him, even if she didn’t mean it that way.

The room felt smaller now, the silence between them growing heavier with every passing second. Harry looked down at his hands, tracing the worn edges of the soundboard with his thumb, searching for something to say that wouldn’t feel like an end.

“I’ll miss you.” He admitted solemnly, the words simple, but honest. They hung in the air like a truth too big for him to admit, they hung in the air like three words she wouldn’t have believed if he said it.

YN smiled then, a small, bittersweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She still looked guarded, her walls firmly in place, but there was something soft in the way she glanced up at him, like maybe she felt it too—the finality of the moment they were both trying to avoid.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

And for a brief, fragile second, it was just them again, standing in the soft glow of the studio lights, the world outside forgotten. The weight of time, of change, of things left unsaid—all of it hung between them, heavy but delicate, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table.

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to say more, to ask her something, anything to keep her there a little longer. But before he could find the words, the moment slipped away, the weight of reality settling back in as YN turned away, gathering the last of her things.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room as she reached for the door, casting a long shadow across the studio floor. Harry watched as she stepped toward it, his heart heavy with the knowledge that everything was about to change, whether he was ready for it or not.

YN hesitated in the hallway, every nerve in her body begging her to leave. Her heart sat heavy in her chest, tongue in cheek as she turned back around, opening the door back up with trembling fingers. She stood in the doorway, cracked enough for her frame to linger. A stripe of the nauseating white light of the hallway waned over him and he remained in the same place she had left him moments ago. “Harry.” She muttered, her voice low, almost weary. There was something in the way she said his name, something different—like maybe she wanted to say more but didn’t know how to.

He perked up, his tummy doing flips. The pearly glow behind her made her seem ethereal—angelic. “Yeah?” His tone gentle but searching, like he was trying to pull something unspoken out of the quiet between them.

She looked at him then, fully, her eyes catching the last remnants of the dim light in the studio. For a moment, the guardedness slipped, just a fraction, and Harry could see something underneath—something vulnerable, something that felt a little like goodbye.

“I’m really glad I got to work with you.” YN’s voice was delicate, her words carrying a weight that made it threaten to crack. “This–this has been more than I ever could’ve asked for.”

She was referring to more than just the music and the internship.

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He didn’t know what to say to that—didn’t know how to tell her that she wasn’t just some random, throwaway intern to him, that these past few months had meant more than just music and late-night studio sessions. She had become a part of his world in a way he hadn’t anticipated, and now that she was leaving, it felt like something vital was being pulled away, leaving him standing on unsteady ground.

“Me too.” He confessed, though he could’ve said more. Harry’s voice was quieter than he intended, his hand running over his face from a feeling he couldn’t admit.

The words hung in the air, soft but honest. YN had seen parts of him that few people did—had understood his music, his vulnerabilities, in a way that made him feel seen. And now, the thought of her not being there—of her walking out that door and leaving all of this behind—made him feel strangely untethered.

YN’s lips curved into a small, almost wistful smile. She looked down at her shoes for a moment, the tip of her sneaker nudging a stray cable on the floor. “I didn’t mean to stay so late.” A weak attempt at lightening the moment. But her eyes betrayed her, the flicker of something deeper still lingering behind her words.

Harry took a step closer, closing the distance between them just slightly. “You know.”Harry mumbled, his tone lighter now, though the heaviness between them still lingered. “This feels a lot like a goodbye when y’have a few weeks still.”

YN glanced up at him, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess we do.” She let out a breathy chuckle, though her voice sounded distant, like she was already somewhere else in her mind.

Silence settled between them again, thicker this time, like the room itself was holding its breath. Harry wanted to say more—wanted to ask her what came next for her, wanted to tell her that maybe things didn’t have to end here—tell her to stay. But he didn’t. The words caught in his throat, tangled up with all the emotions he wasn’t sure how to name.

After a moment, YN shifted her bag on her shoulder and let out a soft breath. “I should get going.” She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late.”

Harry nodded, but his chest felt heavy, like he didn’t want her to leave just yet. “Yeah. Right. Let me know you got home okay.”

YN’s smile was small, almost bittersweet. She began to turn in the doorway, her movements slow, like the action of leaving pained her. He sent her a small wave as she gave him one last glance, the door softly clicking shut behind her.

The summer had begun to slip away quietly, the August sun sitting lower in the sky at earlier hours. The air was different that day—thicker, heavier with the weight of something ending. There was a finality to the way the light filtered through the studio’s window, soft and hazy, like the last days of vacation in an old photograph. Everything felt suspended, as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

Harry had known this day was coming. He’d tried not to think about it, tried to focus on the album, on the music, on the thousand little tasks that came with putting it all together. But today was different. No matter how much he had tried to push it out of his mind, the date had circled back around, staring him in the face.

August thirty-first.

YN’s last day.

He arrived at the studio earlier than usual, the streets outside still quiet, the early morning light pale and soft against the burning. The usual buzz of excitement—the thrill of working on his debut album—was muted, overshadowed by the knowledge that by the end of the day, YN would be gone.

As he set his guitar in the corner of the room, he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. She was already there, sitting at her usual spot by the control board, her notebook open in front of her, a pen poised between her fingers. She was focused, scribbling something down, but her movements were slower, more deliberate today. Harry could tell. She knew it too.

The room was quieter than usual, the hum of the equipment the only sound as he walked over to her. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It felt like there were a hundred things left unsaid, hanging in the air between them, waiting to be acknowledged. But neither of them said anything. Not yet.

“Morning.” Harry said softly, settling down into his chair across from her. He didn’t dare to greet her with good morning, because it really wasn’t. Not today. He didn’t know when it would be again.

“Morning.” She murmured, voice almost resigned, not looking up from her notebook. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Harry felt his chest tighten.

They spent the morning working in the usual rhythm, going over the last details of the album. It should have been a day like any other, but there was a tension under the surface, something neither of them could quite shake. Every moment felt like it was leading up to something, like the end was creeping closer with each passing minute.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, the studio had filled with the usual buzz of people—producers, assistants, technicians—all busy, all focused. But Harry’s mind was somewhere else. He kept glancing over at YN, watching the way she moved around the studio, the way she interacted with everyone, like it was just another day. But he could see it in the way she lingered on certain tasks, the way her eyes scanned the room as if she was memorizing it.

It was nearing the end of the day when the rest of the team began wrapping up, gathering their things, making plans for the next session. The sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, casting the room in that soft, golden light that made everything feel both beautiful and bittersweet. Harry watched as the others said their goodbyes to YN, one by one, thanking her for her work, telling her to stay in touch. She smiled, gracious as ever, but there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were already one foot out the door.

And then, it was just the two of them.

The door clicked shut behind the last person, and suddenly the room felt much bigger, the space between them much quieter. Harry stood by the window, his hands in his pockets, watching the light fade as the day slipped into evening. YN was still by the control board, slowly packing up her things—her notebook, her pens, the little scraps of paper she’d scribbled ideas on over the past few months. Her movements were slow, deliberate, holding onto to the moment just a little longer.

Harry turned to face her, his pulse thrumming a little too fast. He wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, not really. He had spent the last few weeks trying to avoid thinking about it, but now, standing there in the dimming light, he realized he still didn’t want her to leave.

“Are you all set?” He asked quietly, his voice sounding too casual for how much dread he felt inside.

YN glanced up, her eyes meeting his for the first time all day. There was a flicker of something there—something that matched the weight in his chest—but she quickly looked away, zipping up her bag with a small nod.

“I guess so.” She forced a smile, standing up from her chair. “I think that’s everything.”

The silence that followed felt as if nails scratched an old chalkboard, stretching out between them like a line drawn in the sand. Harry took a slow breath, trying to steady himself, trying to find the words he hadn’t been able to say all day. He watched as she slung her bag over her shoulder, her fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the soundboard one last time, like she was saying goodbye to something bigger than just the room.

Harry wanted to ask her to stay, wanted to tell her that things didn’t have to end here—that maybe, just maybe, there was more for them beyond this room, beyond this summer. But he couldn’t. He knew her too well by now, knew that she had already made up her mind.

“I guess this is goodbye then.” She frowned, eyes glasses over.

His stomach lurched. She had his number, of course, but Harry didn’t know if she would keep in contact. He didn’t know she would erase the summer from her mind to ease her heart. Harry swallowed hard, the lump in his throat causing him to wince. “Goodbye, YN.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The room was bathed in the last traces of sunshine, everything feeling suspended in time. And then, slowly, YN stepped toward the door, her fingers brushing the handle. She paused, glancing back at him one last time, her expression unreadable.

And he caught himself. The all too familiar lump in his throat at a dull ache, the tip of his nose tickling as he felt tears well up. His feet moved faster than he could think, just a blink of time, and his hand was wrapped around her forearm, pulling YN away from the door. “That’s it?” He asked, his cheeks flushing red and his voice cracked. “That’s all?”

She frowned, her nostrils flaring as she willed away her tears. She adjusted the tote on her shoulder, averting her gaze from Harry to the wall behind him.

“Stay.” He pleaded, she only shook her head.

Stray tears fell from his eyes, heartbroken. “I can have them extend your internship, or something—please.”

Her eyes met his again, stomach twisting at his tears. “Harry that’s a hand out.” She muttered, sighing with a sadness she tried to push away. “I have to move forward.”

He sniffled, lighting placing his hand on her cheek as he brought her into a kiss. His tears made his lips wet, nose too stuffy to breathe through it—but he didn’t care. He figured this was goodbye, for a while.

Her lips were stilled against his until she melted into it, but it was fleeting. She placed her hand upon the one he had on her cheek, removing it as she pulled her face away. She intertwined her fingers with his, placing a few soft kisses to his knuckles.

He only stood there, lips quivering with tears that were unable to stop. As she began to loosen the grip on his hand, putting his arm back to his side, an audible cry left his mouth. It wasn’t loud, barely above a whisper, but it was there. “Y’pinky promised me.” He shook his head, “That we would stay friends.” He took a deep breath, wiping away some of his tears. “But I know you’re gonna disappear on me.”

This time she let her tears fall, taking a step away—the guilt was allconsiming. “Take care of yourself, H.”

And just like that, she was gone as quick as she came.

But that was two months ago, and Harry was right—she barely kept in contact with him. He tried not to take it personally for a while, seeing as she didn’t update her socials as much either. She disappeared just like a snuffed out flickered flame of a candle.

She would respond occasionally, curious to know if he was okay, how the album was going. It was always fine.

Fine, fine, fine.

But he wasn’t fine, it wasn’t fine. He missed her, Harry felt that she broke their promise. And he wanted to be angry, to block her from his mind, but he couldn’t.

He was planning to fly to LA to finish the rest of the album in late September, but couldn’t do it. He remained in New York, not ready to let go of the many things created in that studio.

It was two in the morning as he stared at the bright glare of his phone, the recently sent attachment of the final cut of Carolina staying the dismal state of delivered.

He knew she had her read receipts on, which is why he didn’t swipe away from their messages—heart thudding against his chest as he waited to see if status would ever change to read.

Of course, undeniably so, the song was about another girl. But now it felt like a contradictory, because the only thing he thought about when listening to it was YN.

He knew now that he loved her, that he was in love with her the minute she sent her nod of approval for the From the Dining Table recording.

He was a walking joke to the saying of, she fell first, he fell harder—because he fell first, and then fell even harder.

Harry groaned, shutting his phone off and letting it slip into his lap as he leaned back onto the bed. The heel of his palm sat against his eyes, the pressure allowing for the kaleidoscope of colors and patterns to play on the inside of his eyelids.

He wondered if slamming his head against the wall would feel better than the ache of heartbreak.

However, he didn’t want to test that theory out. He’ll let it remain as a hypothesis for now.

His hands brushed down to his sides, his vision fading back to normal as he stared at the ceiling. He wanted to see if he could go to sleep, maybe even watch a movie—but his phone vibrated against his thigh and he swore the world stopped spinning on its axis for a beat.

He hesitated to look, if it was another weather notification he would probably lose his mind.

But he sat up anyway, grimacing as he clicked the power button, dreading the possible sight of the familiar blue icon.

Yn: everything i imagined it to be and more

Yn: forever proud of you harry styles

His shoulders faltered, a frown settling upon his lips.

h: I miss you.

YN stared at the message, lips parted. She still sat on the bathroom counter where she had been for the last ten minutes, smooshed close to the mirror in attempt to shape her eyebrows.

But as soon as she saw the song attachment pop up three minutes ago, the tweezers remained in its clattered state in the sink.

When the song emitted from her phone she couldn’t help but smile, she swear she could’ve floated. And then she cried.

h: I have 2 more songs to finalize before we send it through to be released next year.

h: Miss picking your brain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a pause in her breath. She wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to respond right away, to fill the silence with words, to close the gap between them that had grown wider with every passing day since she left. But the other part of her—the part that had been protecting her heart all these months—wanted to stay distant, to keep things as they were, safely tucked away in the past.

YN sighed, running a hand through her hair as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. The one who had walked out of the studio with a heavy heart and the quiet resolve to move forward, to start anew. But that resolve was wavering now, and Harry’s words were making it impossible to ignore the ache she’d been trying to avoid.

Her phone buzzed again. Another message.

h: Still time to come back, you know. We could finish the album together.

Her heart clenched at the invitation. She could picture him, sitting in the dim light of his apartment, maybe lying in bed, the soft glow of his phone the only thing lighting up his face. She imagined the look in his eyes as he typed the words, that same softness she had seen in him so many times before—when they worked late into the night, when he caught her staring too long, when he let his guard down just enough for her to see the vulnerability underneath.

But she had walked away for a reason. She knew what it would do to her—how easy it would be to fall back into the rhythm of working with Harry, of getting lost in his music, in him. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. She wasn’t sure if she could handle the intensity of what lingered between them, the unspoken connection that had grown stronger with every conversation, every glance, every laugh shared.

She didn’t know if she wanted to take the risk to be left again.

h: Please. Just think about it.

Her fingers trembled as she typed, mouth ran dry. She didn’t know what to say, but she knew she couldn’t leave him hanging.

Yn: i’ll think about it

It was short, maybe too short, but it was all she could offer in that moment. She stared at the message for a long time before hitting send, her stomach twisting with the uncertainty of what came next.

On the other end, Harry stared at his phone, his heart sinking as he read her reply. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. It was something in between, something that left him in limbo, waiting for an answer he wasn’t sure would ever come.

He sat there in the silence of his apartment, the city outside moving on as it always did. He wanted to see her again, wanted to finish what they’d started, not just with the music, but with whatever had been building between them all those months. But he knew he couldn’t push her. YN was careful, guarded, and he had learned that the hard way. She had her reasons for keeping her distance, reasons she had never fully shared with him.

But still, he hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’d come back. That maybe, for once, she’d take a chance.

And so he waited, the phone resting in his lap, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the room around him.

The days passed slowly after that, each one blending into the next as Harry focused on finishing the album. He threw himself into the work, pouring all of his energy into the final tracks, refining the sound, changing some lyrics, adding new elements.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The songs were good—great, even—but without YN’s input, without her presence in the studio, it all felt a little hollow. He missed her—missed her laugh, missed the way she’d furrow her brow when she was deep in thought, missed the way she made him feel like he didn’t have to be Harry Styles all the time. With her, he was just Harry. And that was enough.

He loved her.

He hadn’t heard from her since that night. No messages, no calls. It was like she had disappeared all over again, slipping out of his life as quietly as she had entered it.

It was November sixteenth when his phone buzzed again, a message lighting up the screen. The sky was dull, a harsh breeze whipping around the branches of trees—gearing up for a downpour. His heart raced as he saw her name, his fingers fumbling to unlock the phone.

Yn: you’re in ny still?

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected to hear from her again, not after weeks of silence.

h: Still here. Why?

There was a long pause before her next message came through.

Yn: i’ve been thinking about you

It was as if the system his body needed to stay alive had paused, his mind racing with possibilities. He couldn’t believe it—after all this time, she was finally considering it.

h: If you ever feel ready, I’m right where you left me.

Another pause.

Yn: it was ever just about the album h

Her message hit him like a punch to the chest, the weight of it settling in slowly. He had known—of course, he had known—but seeing it there, written out in front of him, made it all the more real.

Harry stared at the message for a long time, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he tried to find the right words. But what could he say? He felt the same way, had felt it for months, but he hadn’t known how to tell her.

He attempted to, the day she left, cried even. But she walked away before he had the chance to continue.

h: I know.

It was simple, but it was true. He did know. He had known all along.

Yn: are you still recording at the same studio?

Harry’s heart leapt at her words, a surge of hope flooding through him.

h: Yeah, actually here right now. Brainstorming by myself for a bit.

Yn: buzz me in. i’m outside

Harry blinked, rereading the message a few times, the tips of his fingers all pins and needles

Outside.

She was there—outside, in the cold, waiting. Without thinking, he shot out of his chair, the legs scraping the studio floor with a harsh screech. His phone almost slipped from his hand as he fumbled to send her a quick reply. His movements were so frantic he had forgotten to press send.

He grabbed his jacket, threw it over his shoulders, and bolted for the door, his mind racing. She was here.

He wondered if he should slow down, would it be weird to greet her breathless at the door?

He rolled his eyes at himself. stop overthinking.

The hallway lights flickered slightly as he made his way down the corridor, his steps fast. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure what she would say, but none of that mattered. All he knew was that she was here, and that was enough for him right now.

When he finally reached the front entrance, he paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the buzzer. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotions bubbling inside him. There was a weight to this moment—something bigger than just a simple reunion. He could feel it, like the air had thickened with all the unsaid words between them.

He pressed the button.

A soft buzz echoed through the small space, followed by the familiar click of the door unlocking. Harry pulled it open, stepping out into the crisp November air. The wind whipped around him, biting at his skin, but it didn’t matter because there she was.

YN stood a few feet away, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, her hair tousled by the wind. Her face was partially shadowed in the dingy light from the streetlamps, but he could still see her eyes—those same eyes that had watched him in the studio all those months ago, the ones that saw more than most people ever did.

The eyes of a girl he fell so pathetically in love with.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in the cold, neither of them moving. It was like time had paused again, just as it had so many times before when they were alone in the studio, surrounded by music but drowning in something deeper. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, unsure how to break the silence.

Finally, YN spoke, her voice quiet but steady, cheeks flushed from both her deepening blush and the cold. “Hi, Harry.”

The sound of her voice hit him like a wave, familiar and comforting, and all the tension he’d been holding onto seemed to unravel at once. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and smiled, though his heart was still racing. “Hi.”

It was such a simple exchange, but it felt like everything. For weeks, Harry had been caught in this strange limbo, not knowing if he’d see her again, not knowing if the distance between them was permanent. But here she was, standing right in front of him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like things were finally shifting.

“It’s cold.” His voice is light, jutting his chin ever so slightly to the outside that existed around them. “Come in, please.”He felt unsure of how much to say, how much to push.

YN hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering toward the door behind him. She shifted on her feet, the wind catching the ends of her coat and lifting it slightly. For a second, Harry thought she might say no, that maybe she was having second thoughts. But then, she gave him a small nod, a barely-there smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Harry held the door open as she walked past him, the familiar warmth of the studio wrapping around them both as they stepped inside. It was quiet—just the two of them now, the usual noise of the team gone for the night. He led her down the hallway toward the control room, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, thoughts spinning with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t quite figure out how to.

When they reached the room, Harry gestured toward the seat she’d always occupied—the one by the soundboard where she’d spent so many hours offering ideas, tweaking lyrics, helping him make a few songs what they were. YN paused for a second before sitting down, her hands resting in her lap as she glanced around the room.

“It feels the same.” Her laugh was breathy, a sadness to it. Her eyes lingered on the equipment, the scattered notes, the half-empty coffee cups that still littered the space. “Like nothing’s changed.”

Harry sat down across from her, his fingers brushing absently against the neck of the guitar that leaned against the chair. “Not much has.” He admitted, his voice quiet. “Except for you not being here.”

She looked at him then, searching his face, and Harry felt that familiar pull—the one that had always drawn him to her, even when she’d kept herself at arm’s length. There was something in her gaze, something heavy with unsaid words, and he wondered if she could feel it too.

A beat had passed. “I missed this, she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you, H.

His cheeks felt hot, the words landing between them like a confession. He swallowed, his chest tightening with the weight of everything he wanted to say in return.

“I missed you too.”Harry murmured, the truth of it echoing in every syllable. And for the first time in months, the silence between them didn’t feel so heavy. It felt like maybe, just maybe, things were starting to fall back into place. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.

She shifted on her feet, eyes falling to the floor. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was sincere, dripping with the guilt she’s battled for months. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I needed to take some time, figure things out.”

He nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. He would’ve tried to look better if he knew he’d be seeing her today. “It hurt.”

She pulled her lips between her teeth, eyes glossed over as she nodded. She had to look away, not able to face him. She knew she had done to him the same thing she was so afraid of—she just left. It gutted her for a while, wanting to reach out and apologize. She had this anxious feeling he wouldn’t forgive her. Rightfully so.

But it’s Harry.

He ran his hand down his face, a swirl of emotions becoming a cyclone within him. He frowned, seeing how spaced she was—as if she wasn’t here. “You need to tell me what’s on your mind.”

His tone was a bit more straightforward than he originally intended, but it was the truth. She showed up asking to be buzzed in, he felt as if he shouldn’t be the one digging.

She shook her head, trying to blink away some of her tears. “Guilt, sorrow, you.”

He nodded, looking at her expectantly to finish. He wished she could say her feelings as fast as she could walk away from them, but she was trying at least, and it felt like a start.

She inhaled shakily, running her fingers through her hair as her lip continued to tremble. “Guilt for leaving you the same what I feared being left.” Her voice had a tremor, her breaths a bit quicker. “Guilt for not saying sorry sooner. The pain of missing you—.” She whimpered, the same as Harry did the day she left.

“The guilt and sorrow will fade.” Harry murmured, his heart aching at the sight of her tears. “Y’just to work through it, don’t ignore it.”

YN wiped her cheeks, fingers shaking as she tried to regulate her breathing.. “And you?” Her voice was small, fragile, afraid of the answer.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Me?”

“Have I lost you?”

He frowned, the words caught in his throat. The question felt like it knocked the air from his lungs, and for a moment he didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between them, unbearable. He let his shoulders falter, “I love you, YN.”

The words hung between them, raw and unfiltered. It was stripped of all pretense, just the truth he carried with him for months. He watched her for any sort of reaction, and she just kind of stood there. He wondered for a moment if he even said anything, if it was just loud in his head but he actually had just left her hanging. “I love you.” He repeated, just in case.

"I–” She tried to speak, but her voice cracked.

She swallowed hard, tears still clinging to her lashes as she searched his face. The pain, the guilt, the regret—it was all still there, but beneath it, there was something else, something softer. Something she had kept hidden for so long, she wasn't sure how to let it out. “You do?”

He nodded, remaining vulnerable. He had no clue if she would reciprocate, or if she’d just walk away if met with the familiar fear. “Think I always have.”

For the first time, it didn't feel like there was a barrier. It felt like something was breaking, something that had been keeping them apart for far too long.

Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers brushing against his arm, tentative at first, but then firmer as she closed the distance between them. He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. She melted into him, her face pressed against his chest as the tears flowed freely now, the weight of months of separation, guilt, and pain finally slipping away.

Harry held her tightly, his chin resting on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against his. This was what he had been missing—this. Not just the music, not just the friendship. It was her. All of her.

"I love you," he whispered again, the words soft and full of promise. "I’m here."

It was them, just them—like she’d never left.

#harry edward styles #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #hs1 #2016 harry #lhh #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #one direction #one direction smut #one direction imagine

2K notes · View notes

narrycherries · 3 months ago

Text

(1) how’s one to know..

harry is just an ass and she is just a stranger — series introduction, bit of angst (8.6k)

(2) an incandescent glow

She just wanted to have a fun night out, but Harry has a tendency to ruin things.. — angst and sadness filled (10.9k)

(3) putting roots in my dreamland

Despite wishing he didn’t exist, she had no choice but to be around him.. — short but necessary angst for the story (8.4k)

(4) and now I’m covered in you..

She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble and it irritates him more than it should. — a scary situation creates a lot of conflicting thoughts for both characters.. angst (14.3k)

(5) magnificently cursed

She can’t seem to ignore him and he’s rather observant of her.. - angst, little dramatic incident (11.4k)

(6) clover blooms in the fields

She needs help and he just so happens to be the only one available.. - little angst, more fluff (tw: does mention surgical procedures) (12.3k)

(7) crescent moon, coast is clear

She was struggling to let go of her worrying thoughts, but he was determined to help her through it. — there’s some angst & fluff (15.2k)

(8) he’s gonna burn this house to the ground

He has added insult to injury and she gives him one chance to make it right. — bit of angst lots of fluff and dialogue (17.5k)

(9) for moments that we stole

She was trying to figure out how to understand her own body, and he was attempting to help as much as he could.. — includes fluff, angst, hints of smut but not smut, & jealously.. (29.7k)

this series is loosely inspired by the song ivy by taylor swift

more pics // more pics (2) // more pics (3)

part 8 teaser post (with photos)

part 9 teaser post (with photos)

‧₊˚ playlist ‧₊˚

(just a few songs that inspired this series & what I listen to while writing it :: these are my music preferences so if you don’t like them.. don’t listen) •••slight spoilers so be aware/you can skip over this•••

ivy - taylor swift

lie to girls - sabrina carpenter

my boy only breaks his favorite toys - taylor swift

norman fucking rockwell- lana del rey

right now - one direction

souvenir - selena gomez

something in the way - nirvana

fine line - harry styles

guilty as sin - taylor swift

cinnamon girl - lana del rey

brain stew- greenday

the next best american record - lana del rey

dancing with our hands tied - taylor swift

lips of an angel - hinder

tonight - zayn

small talk - niall horan

iris - goo goo dolls

so it goes - taylor swift

stay over - tove lo

love is a wild thing - kacey musgraves

false god - taylor swift

little freak - harry styles

crimson and clover - joan jett (& the blackhearts)

I can fix him (no really I can) - taylor swift

get stoned - hinder

angel - kacey musgraves

there you are - zayn

nobody gets me - sza

alone - heart

cardigan - taylor swift

lover of mine - 5sos

mateo- tove lo

strong - one direction

700 notes · View notes

cloudyluun · 15 days ago

Text

Sunburnt & Smitten (p2)

Summary: Harry wakes up knowing he majorly fucked up. He has one goal today: make sure you forgive him (and, preferably, forget all about the book he sacrificed to the sea). His tactics start with sweet bribery, escalate to shameless sabotage, and ultimately end with him pleading his case in bed, where he’s much better at holding your attention anyway.

A/N: OMG, besties. I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how much FUN this was to write. Like, truly, who gave Harry the right to be this cocky and hot and impossible to resist?? (Oh, wait. That were @harrywavycurly & me. My bad 😌✨.)

Hope you all enjoyed this absolute masterpiece of unhinged horny behavior. Please like, repost, scream in the comments, and remember: if he’s not buying you books after mind-blowing sex, what is he even doing?

Word Count: 5,5k

Warnings:

Smut (obviously, babes)

Teasing & power shifts (we love a battle of wills)

Filthy, filthy desperation (you're welcome)

Harry being cocky AF (but also absolutely wrecked)

Bribery via books & vacations (the ultimate love language)

Emotional vulnerability disguised as pillow talk (cry about it)

[part 1]

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Harry wakes up first. And for a brief, beautiful moment, he forgets about his crimes.

The morning sun is already warming the room, spilling golden light through the open balcony doors. The waves are soft, the air smells of salt and citrus, and most importantly you’re still here, tucked beside him in bed. His heart swells at the sight.

But then he notices it.

Your arms are crossed, even in sleep. Lips slightly pursed.

A knot of dread forms in his stomach.

Oh. Right.

He threw your book into the ocean.

Harry grimaces, replaying the crime scene in his head. It had been impulsive. Driven by jealousy and a complete lack of self-preservation. And now, here he is, lying beside you like a man on death row, waiting for the verdict.

Carefully, he shifts onto his side, resting on his elbow as he watches you stir awake.

He needs to fix this. Immediately.

“Morning, angel,” he murmurs, brushing a featherlight kiss to your shoulder. His lips linger, soft and sweet, an offering of peace.

You hum in response. But don’t move closer.

Oh, fuck.

His chest tightens. He’s in real trouble.

Time for damage control: “Operation: Bribe your girlfriend with breakfast.”

Harry moves fast. One second, he’s in bed with you, the next, he’s bolting down the stairs, determined to bribe his way back into your good graces.

Ten minutes later, he returns with a perfectly curated breakfast tray.

Fresh coffee, made exactly how you like it.

Flaky, buttery croissants.

A little bowl of berries, because he knows you like something light in the morning.

And—his pièce de résistance—a single flower he nicked from the villa’s garden.

He softens his footsteps, placing the tray on the bedside table before climbing back into bed.

You’re fully awake now, blinking at him suspiciously as he pulls the covers up, tucking you into the warmth of his chest.

“For you, my love,” he says dramatically, presenting the tray as if offering you the world itself.

He leans in, nuzzling your jaw, voice a syrupy sweet murmur.

“My muse. My heart. The only person I have ever loved.”

Your eyes narrow. “The person whose book you MURDERED?”

He flinches. “Right. That too.”

The Phone Snatching Incident

You exhale sharply, sitting up to grab your coffee. You don’t push him away, but you don’t cuddle into him either. That’s a bad sign.

Still, he waits. Watches. Hopes.

You sip your coffee. Take a bite of the croissant. Even pluck the little flower from the tray, twirling it between your fingers.

Harry holds his breath.

Just as he starts thinking maybe, just maybe, he’s done enough—

You reach for your phone.

His stomach drops.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice calm but internally panicking.

“Checking if I can get a digital copy of the book you sent to a watery grave,” you reply flatly, eyes on the screen.

Oh, hell no.

Before you can so much as type in the title, Harry snatches your phone away.

“Harry—!”

“Just hear me out, love—”

He rolls onto his back, holding the phone high above his head like a petty, overgrown child. You scramble onto your knees, reaching for it, but he’s got longer arms and zero shame.

“Harry, give it back!” you huff, straddling his waist now, fully prepared to fight him for it.

He smirks. Oh, he likes this position.

“Can’t,” he says, tossing your phone onto the other side of the bed. Far away from your reach.

Your glare could set him on fire.

“Why the fuck not?”

He grins. "Because, angel… I’m much more fun than a book."

Harry may have successfully delayed your vengeful book shopping spree, but you’re persistent and still mad.

So, when he eventually gets up to shower, you stealthily retrieve your phone & ereader, curling up on a lounge chair outside. The private deck overlooks the sparkling blue ocean, but you barely notice it as you quickly download the digital copy of your book.

Victory.

With a smug little smile, you settle in. Sunglasses on. Drink beside you.

Finally.

Peace.

You barely make it two pages before your peace is shattered.

A shadow falls over your screen.

A large, wet, obnoxious shadow.

You glance up.

Harry stands before you, dripping wet, curls plastered to his forehead, wearing only his swim trunks.

Your jaw clenches.

He smirks. “Can’t believe you’re really choosing a book over me, love.”

You sigh heavily, shifting your sunglasses down your nose to glare at him. “I wouldn’t have to if someone hadn’t THROWN MY FIRST COPY INTO THE OCEAN.”

Harry winces theatrically, placing a hand over his heart as if you’ve just stabbed him.

“Oof. Still sore about that, huh?”

Your deadpan stare could strip paint from walls.

He licks his lips, eyes flicking toward your screen. “What’re you reading now?”

“My replacement copy,” you say pointedly, lifting the e-reader so he can see.

Harry snorts. “Oh, so you’re serious about this, then.”

“Dead serious.”

His grin widens.

And suddenly, before you can react, he scoops you up.

You yelp, e-reader slipping from your grasp as he lifts you effortlessly from the lounge chair, one arm under your back, the other beneath your thighs.

“Harry, DON’T YOU DARE—”

Too late.

He tosses you into the pool.

SPLASH.

The water is cool and shocking, knocking the breath from your lungs as you resurface, gasping.

Dripping. Spluttering. FURIOUS.

"YOU MENACE."

Harry, the actual devil, is leaning lazily against the pool’s edge, grinning like he just won an award for Best Boyfriend Ever.

“Had to make sure you were paying attention to me, didn’t I?”

You stare at him. Unblinking. Seething.

You lift a hand and splash a huge wave of water right into his smug fucking face.

He laughs, shaking his head like a wet dog, flinging water everywhere.

You cross your arms. “Buy me the whole fucking series, and I might consider forgiving you.”

Harry tilts his head, pretending to think.

Then he lunges, gripping your waist beneath the water, yanking you into him. Chest to chest. Nose to nose.

"How about I buy you the series," he murmurs, voice low and persuasive, "and you promise to read it to me?"

Your lips part slightly, breath catching at the way his fingers trace slow, teasing circles on your waist.

"Read it to you?"

He nods, lips ghosting against your jaw, trailing wet kisses down your neck.

“Every single word.”

For a brief, fleeting moment, he has you.

His voice is low, warm breath fanning across your damp skin, fingertips tracing slow circles on your waist beneath the water. You feel yourself leaning in, your resolve cracking, just a little.

And then—

Your e-reader, floating pitifully a few feet away, bumps against your arm.

You blink.

Your anger resurfaces instantly.

“Nice try, Styles.” You push a hand against his chest, untangling yourself from his grasp and wading away.

He groans, tipping his head back dramatically. “Oh, come on, angel—”

“Nope.” You snatch the e-reader, wiping water from the screen. “You don’t get to seduce your way out of this. You committed a crime.”

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as you climb out of the pool. “You murdered my book in cold blood.”

Harry grins as he watches you grab a towel, wrapping it around your waist before flopping back onto a lounge chair. “I did you a favor, really. Now you don’t have to waste time on it.”

“Oh, trust me,” you say, lifting your e-reader again, scrolling through your downloaded pages. “I’ll be making up for lost time.”

And just like that—you’re back to reading.

Game. Set. Match.

Or so you think.

Because Harry fucking Styles is nothing if not persistent.

Less than five minutes pass before you hear it.

The long, drawn-out sigh of a man who is deeply, deeply suffering.

You ignore it.

Then, another. Louder.

You shift your sunglasses up, peering over the rim.

Harry is flopped dramatically onto the deck, arms sprawled out, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking for all the world like a tragic poet wasting away on the sands of time.

You blink.

He sighs again.

Louder. More pained.

You press your lips together, willing yourself not to react.

Another sigh.

A groan.

A soft, tortured whimper.

You snap your book shut. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Harry immediately perks up, but quickly rearranges his face into an expression of pure, unfiltered melancholy.

"It’s just… hard, y’know?" he murmurs, voice thick with existential despair.

You roll your eyes. “What is, exactly?”

He exhales deeply, shifting onto his side, propping his head up on one hand.

“Knowing I’m not enough for you.”

You stare at him.

He sighs again, this time with even more dramatic weight, and throws an arm over his forehead.

Your eyebrow twitches. “Harry.”

“Don’t.” He holds up a hand, eyes still closed behind his sunglasses. “No, really, don’t. Nothing you say can fix this.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

“I’ll just be here.” He gestures weakly to the deck, as if it’s his grave. “Alone. Forgotten. Wishing I was a paperback novel.”

Your jaw drops.

“Harry, are you fucking serious?”

“Shh.” He presses a finger to his lips, as if shushing the wind. “No words. Just let me… waste away.”

You gape at him.

Before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles up.

Because this man is absolutely ridiculous.

He’s pouting beneath his sunglasses, sprawled out like he’s auditioning for a tragic French film, sighing dramatically every few seconds just to make sure you know how deeply, deeply unloved he is.

And it’s so absurd, so childish, so Harry, that you can’t even pretend to be mad anymore.

You set your book down with a sigh, shaking your head.

“Alright, Mr. Clingy. What do you want?”

Instantly, Harry moves.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you effortlessly onto him, your legs tangling as he buries his face in your neck.

"Want you to pay attention to me.”

His voice is warm, pleading, lips brushing against your skin.

You huff, but your fingers are already sneaking into his curls, combing through the damp strands.

He hums in satisfaction.

You sigh. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

He grins against your shoulder.

And just like that, he wins.

Or at least, he thinks he does.

But you’re still clutching your half-drowned e-reader, your mind half-focused on the chapters you were about to dive into before he decided to ruin your entire day.

And Harry sees it.

The way your gaze flickers, the way your fingers twitch, the way—despite the fact that he is literally wrapped around you—you’re still thinking about that bloody book.

He needs to up his game.

So, he pulls back, just enough to study you, lips pursing.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, he peels himself off you and trudges away.

You blink. “What—”

Without a word, he comes to a halt at the very edge of the deck, standing stiffly with his arms crossed.

He just stands there.

You frown.

He sighs again.

Louder.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

No response.

You sit up, eyeing him. “Harry.”

He shifts his weight, staring out at the ocean, deep in thought.

A slight breeze tousles his curls, his profile bathed in golden light, jaw set, lips pressed together like he’s contemplating the meaning of life.

You narrow your eyes.

Something isn’t right.

He doesn’t look like he’s scheming anymore.

He looks…

Genuinely sad.

“…Harry?”

His shoulders rise, then fall.

And then, he speaks.

"D’you even love me anymore?"

Your mouth falls open.

“What?”

His chin tilts up, sunglasses slipping down his nose as he turns to face you, brows drawn together.

“I mean,” he shrugs, lips pursing, “you barely even looked at me today.”

You stare at him.

He continues, voice quiet now.

“And, I dunno… I just—” He licks his lips, tilting his head. “I just can’t help but think… maybe you love the book more than you love me.”

Your eye twitches.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Am I?” His brows arch, eyes scanning your face.

And for the first time all day, there’s no trace of teasing.

No grin hiding behind his words, no sly amusement in his expression.

He looks…

Heartbroken.

Like a sun-kissed, brokenhearted rockstar who just got his heart trampled on.

Your chest tightens.

Because fuck—Harry might be a menace, and he might be a walking, talking distraction, but…

He’s also yours.

And despite all his ridiculous antics today, despite the drama, the sabotage, the destruction of personal property…

You do love him.

You sigh.

Then, slowly, you set your book aside.

Harry watches you carefully, his expression unreadable as you push yourself up to your feet.

You take a single step toward him.

Then another.

His lips part, but he doesn’t say a word.

And then—

You’re right in front of him.

You cross your arms, tilting your head. “Alright, Mr. Clingy. What do you want?”

For a moment, he just stares.

In an instant, he lunges.

His arms lock around your waist, pulling you in, your feet barely touching the deck as he buries his face in your neck.

You yelp, hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.

His voice is warm, muffled against your skin.

“Want you to pay attention to me.”

You exhale, a soft, breathy laugh spilling from your lips.

He tightens his grip, nose nudging against your jaw.

You roll your eyes, but your fingers are already slipping into his curls again, tugging lightly.

And just like that—

He wins. Again.

But this time…

You let him.

You tilt his chin up, brushing your lips against his pout.

Soft. Lingering.

He sighs into it, melting.

And when you pull back, he chases after you, lips grazing yours once more, arms still locked around you.

You laugh, pressing another kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Alright, rockstar.” You smile. “You win.”

His eyes flicker, bright with mischief again.

“Good.”

Then, with zero hesitation—

He picks you up.

You barely have time to gasp before his arms tighten around you, one beneath your thighs, the other braced against your back, his grip possessive, effortless. He doesn’t just carry you inside, he owns every step, moving with the kind of confidence that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. His body is warm, radiating with that sun-kissed heat, his skin smelling of salt, faded cologne, and the lingering remnants of sunscreen.

"Harry—"

He doesn't let you finish.

The villa is quiet, save for the sound of his footsteps against the wooden floorboards. Outside, the ocean crashes against the shore, the rhythm of the waves almost in sync with your pulse—fast, pounding, uneven. He walks like a man with purpose, a man who knows exactly what he wants and has no problem taking it.

The moment you cross the threshold of the bedroom, something shifts.

Your back barely brushes the mattress before Harry follows, taking you down with him in one smooth, fluid motion.

You land on top of him, thighs bracketing his waist, hands catching yourself against the firm planes of his chest. His body is all lean muscle and warmth beneath you, the faint sheen of saltwater drying against his skin, the slow, teasing press of his hands sliding down your back to your hips.

There’s no rush to it—not yet.

Just slow, drawn-out anticipation, a game neither of you are quite willing to lose.

Harry watches you, gaze heavy-lidded, a smirk tugging at his lips. His hands flex against your skin, like he’s resisting the urge to flip you over and take control. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his Adam’s apple bobs when you shift slightly, just to test him.

You lean in, letting your lips ghost over his jaw, the scent of him—salt and warmth and something inherently Harry—filling your senses.

"You know, H," you murmur, voice slow, syrupy, dragging each syllable like honey. "If you wanted my attention that badly, all you had to do was ask."

His smirk doesn’t waver.

If anything, it deepens.

"I think I’ve done more than ask, love."

His voice is husky, rough with amusement and something heavier underneath. His hands slide up your sides, the heat of his palms searing against your bare skin. He doesn’t push—just holds, just lingers, waiting.

Waiting for you to make the next move.

You tilt your head, pretending to consider it, even as you shift in his lap, the slow drag of your body against his drawing the faintest hiss from between his teeth. His fingers twitch, grip tightening, but he doesn’t move.

Not yet.

"Mm," you hum, tilting your head. "And you think you deserve a reward for that?"

Harry swallows, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

"Maybe?"

You let the silence stretch between you like a taut thread, watching as the tension builds in his body. It’s delicious—the way his muscles twitch beneath your fingers, how his breath comes just a little quicker, how his fingers flex as if resisting the overwhelming urge to grab at you.

His wrists are still pinned beneath your hands, right where you left them. He could move if he wanted to, if he really wanted to—Harry is stronger than you, faster, more than capable of flipping you over and taking control. But he doesn’t.

He stays still.

Obedient.

Because despite the cocky smirk lingering at the corner of his mouth, despite the teasing spark still faintly flickering behind his darkening green eyes—he knows exactly what you’re doing. He knows he fucked up. He knows you’re going to make him work for it. And worst (or best) of all?

He likes it.

"Maybe."

You whisper the word like a promise, drawing your nails down the center of his chest—not hard enough to scratch, just enough to make him feel it, to make him shiver beneath you. His breath hitches at the sensation, his muscles tensing before relaxing again, like he's trying to keep himself in check.

You drag your fingertips lower, following the trail of fine hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his swim shorts. You don’t dip beneath, not yet, just rest your hands there, feeling the warmth of his skin, the way his abs tighten with anticipation.

His jaw ticks.

You smile.

You shift slightly, just enough to press your weight down where he’s already hard against you, and he exhales sharply through his nose. His fingers twitch against the sheets, grip tightening, and you know—know—he's barely holding onto his self-control.

Good.

Leaning in, you ghost your lips over his jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to tease. He turns his head slightly, chasing the touch, but you pull back. His lips part in frustration, his brows pulling together as he lets out a quiet, ragged sound.

"Eager, aren’t you?" you murmur.

His throat bobs as he swallows. "Bit hard not to be, love," he admits, voice thick. "Sittin’ on me like this, teasin’ me—kinda cruel, don’t you think?"

You hum, pretending to think about it.

Then, just to be extra cruel, you shift again, rolling your hips ever so slightly against him, feeling the way he strains beneath you. The deep, guttural groan he lets out sends a shiver down your spine, pooling heat low in your stomach—but you don't let it show. Not yet.

His hands twitch again, rising instinctively, palms brushing over your thighs—only for you to catch them, pushing them back down onto the mattress.

"Ah ah," you tsk, shaking your head. "I don’t think you’ve earned that yet."

His eyes darken. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"Yeah?" he rasps, testing you. "And what do I need to do to earn it, angel?"

You smirk, letting your fingers trail up his chest again, featherlight.

"Oh, I don’t know." You lean down, lips hovering just over his, close enough that you can feel his breath against your mouth. "Begging might be a good start."

Harry exhales sharply, his brows furrowing just slightly, like he’s debating whether or not to fight this, to push back. But you know he won’t. Not really.

Because this is exactly what he wants.

You can feel it in the way his body tightens beneath you, in the way his breath comes faster, in the way his hands stay right where you left them.

Still. Waiting.

Obedient.

You grin against his jaw, pressing a soft, teasing kiss just below his ear.

"Good boy."

The noise he makes is sinful.

It’s not just a groan—it’s something deeper, something visceral, something wrecked. You feel it in the way his whole body reacts, the way he tilts his head ever so slightly, exposing more of his throat to you.

Oh.

That’s interesting.

You tuck that reaction away for later, storing it deep in the back of your mind as you continue your slow, torturous descent.

Kissing. Biting. Licking.

Dragging your lips over the ridge of his collarbone, over the firm planes of his chest, trailing heat in your wake.

When you shift again, pressing down exactly where he needs it most, his hips buck up automatically—only for you to lift up just in time, denying him.

A choked-off noise escapes his lips, something between a groan and a curse. His hands fist in the sheets, the muscles in his arms flexing as he fights the instinct to grab you.

"Need something, H?" you ask, voice as sweet as honey.

His head tips back, eyes squeezing shut for a brief second before he looks at you again.

"Don’t be cruel, angel," he grits out. His voice is rough now, thick with frustration, a deep rasp that shoots straight between your legs.

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head.

Then, with an innocent smile, you say, "You threw my book in the ocean, remember?"

His reaction is immediate—a groan, deep and frustrated, his head dropping back against the pillow.

"Fuck, love, I know," he groans, dragging a hand down his face. "I’ll buy you the whole goddamn series—just—fuck, please—"

You bite back a grin.

He’s close.

So close to breaking.

But not yet.

Not yet.

You can see it—can feel it in the way his whole body is wired tight beneath you, in the way his fingers dig into the sheets, in the way his chest rises and falls with every ragged breath. His lips are parted, swollen from how often he’s bitten down on them in frustration, his curls a wild mess against the pillow.

His eyes—God, his eyes—are pure desperation now, pupils blown wide, swallowing every trace of teasing mischief that had been there before.

You’ve reduced him to this.

The thought sends a thrill down your spine, makes your own breath come a little quicker, your skin prickling with heat.

But you’re not done.

Not until he’s completely wrecked.

Not until he breaks for you.

You shift again, rolling your hips ever so slightly, and the groan that rips from his throat is obscene. He’s trembling beneath you now, his fingers twitching like they physically ache to grab at you, to flip you over, to take control.

But he doesn’t.

He waits.

Obeys.

"You’re taking this so well," you murmur, trailing your fingers down his stomach, watching how his muscles tense beneath your touch. "Maybe I should reward you after all."

His breath hitches.

And then—finally—you sink onto him.

His reaction is immediate.

A sharp, choked-off curse tears from his lips, his hands flying to your hips like he physically can’t stop himself. His fingers dig into your skin, hard enough that you’re sure there will be marks tomorrow, but you don’t mind. You want the reminder.

His head tips back, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat, and you take advantage—leaning in, pressing your lips against his pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of his heart against your mouth.

"Fuck," he groans, voice hoarse. "Fuck—angel—"

You giggle at his reaction, at the way he’s coming apart so quickly.

"That good, huh?" you tease, pressing another kiss just below his ear.

His grip on your hips tightens. "You fuckin’ know it is," he pants.

But you don’t let him set the pace.

No—this is still your game.

Your punishment.

So even though you’re desperate too, aching for more, you keep it slow.

You rock against him, agonizingly deliberate, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his brows pull together, the way his whole body is coiled tight with restraint.

"You’re so mean," he grits out, his breath coming in short, shallow pants. "So fuckin’ mean."

You laugh softly, dragging your nails up his chest. "Mean?" you echo, tilting your head. "I think I’m being generous, considering your crimes."

His hips jerk up instinctively, chasing more friction, but you deny him, lifting just enough to keep him wanting.

He nearly whimpers.

And when you clench around him—just once, just to make him feel it—his whole body shudders beneath you.

"Fuck—" he chokes out, his voice wrecked.

You smirk.

Now he’s the one breaking.

It’s cruel, really.

The way you keep just enough control.

The way you deny him just enough to make him ache, to keep him on that razor-thin edge between pleasure and madness.

You can feel it in every shudder that wracks his body beneath you, in the way his hands—normally so sure, so confident—are now trembling where they grip your thighs. You can see it in the way his face twists with pure, agonized need every time you slow down, in the way his lips part around half-formed pleas he can’t quite voice.

And then, of course, there’s the sounds he’s making.

The low, wrecked groans that scrape up from deep in his chest. The ragged, desperate panting as he fights to keep himself from snapping. The murmured curses, gasped into your skin like a prayer.

Your name—over and over again—a reverent, pleading litany on his lips.

It’s intoxicating.

It makes heat bloom low in your stomach, makes your own thighs shake just a little, makes your breath catch as your own pleasure coils tighter and tighter.

But you’re not done with him yet.

Not until he completely unravels.

So you pick up the pace.

You roll your hips faster, move against him with just enough force to make him lose that last thread of control.

And oh, God, does he fall apart.

His fingers dig into your skin, hard, needy. His grip tightens, almost bruising, as his body shudders beneath you, all restraint shattering at once.

"Fuck—"

The sound of his voice—wrecked, desperate, almost pained—sends a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you.

You can feel the exact moment he breaks.

He surges up suddenly, gripping your waist and flipping you before you can even gasp.

Your back hits the mattress.

And then—before you can even catch your breath—he’s on you.

Over you.

Inside you.

And this time, he’s the one in control.

The first thrust is deep—so deep you arch up instinctively, gasping, clutching at his shoulders.

The second is just as devastating.

And the third—fuck.

He pins you down, his forearm bracing beside your head, his free hand gripping your thigh, hooking it around his waist to hold you open for him.

There’s nothing slow about it now.

Nothing teasing.

It’s needy, raw, consuming.

He fucks into you with purpose.

Like he’s staking a claim.

Like he’s making sure you never think about anything else ever again.

Like he’s rewriting your fucking soul.

And God, it’s working.

Your nails rake down his back, dragging hard enough to leave marks.

His jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed in pure focus, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Say it," he growls suddenly, his voice low, rough, demanding.

Your mind is spinning. "Say what?"

His fingers tighten on your thigh. "Say I’m better than your book."

A breathless, half-delirious laugh spills from your lips.

"You’re better than my book."

His lips crash against yours, hot, desperate.

"Say you forgive me."

"I forgive you—"

His next thrust knocks the breath from your lungs. "Oh, fuck, Harry—"

You’re so close.

And from the way his grip tightens, from the way his rhythm starts to falter, so is he.

His name rips from your throat, high and breathless, as he drives into you again, and again, and again.

It’s overwhelming—the heat of him, the weight of him, the sheer intensity in his gaze as he watches you fall apart beneath him.

And God, you are falling apart.

Your whole body is on fire, burning from the inside out, aching with every deep, deliberate thrust.

Harry can feel it—the way you’re unraveling, how close you are.

His hand slips between you, fingers brushing down your stomach, finding exactly where you need him most.

And then—fuck.

He presses down, moves his fingers in slow, firm circles, his pace never faltering, never relenting.

Your whole body shakes.

Your grip on him tightens—nails digging into his biceps, legs locking around his waist, pulling him deeper, keeping him exactly where you need him.

His rhythm is messy now, frantic, desperate, every movement a plea, a promise, a demand.

"Give it to me," he groans, his forehead pressed against yours. "C’mon, angel. Let me feel it."

It’s too much.

The heat, the pressure, the way he’s watching you—

Like you’re the only thing that exists. Like he’d burn the whole world down for you. Like you already own him.

And then you shatter.

It hits you like a tidal wave, a wildfire, an earthquake.

Your whole body tenses, pleasure crashing over you in heavy, shuddering waves, your back arching, your breath catching, your lips parting on a broken moan of his name.

And he follows.

His jaw clenches, his grip tightens, his body stiffens above you.

And then—a ragged, wrecked groan—

His face buries in your neck as he falls apart, spilling into you, gasping against your skin, his body shaking with the force of it.

For a long moment, neither of you move.

The only sounds in the room are harsh, uneven breaths, the pounding of your hearts, the distant crash of waves outside.

Then—slowly, like he’s afraid to lose the moment—Harry pulls back just enough to look at you.

His hair is a mess, damp and sticking to his forehead. His lips are red and swollen, parted on soft, uneven breaths.

But it’s his eyes that make your chest tighten.

Because for the first time tonight, they’re completely, devastatingly open.

And the way he’s looking at you—like you just rewrote his entire world—

It’s dangerous.

Because you know you’re looking at him the same way.

Harry doesn’t let you go.

Even now, with both of you sticky, sweaty, and utterly spent, his arms stay wrapped around you—one draped lazily across your waist, the other tracing slow, absentminded patterns along your back.

His chest rises and falls against yours, his breaths still a little uneven, his face buried in the crook of your neck like he never wants to move again.

For a moment, neither of you say anything.

You just exist there, tangled up together, skin pressed to skin, hearts still beating in sync.

His lips brush against your shoulder, soft and lazy and unbearably sweet.

Another.

Then another.

"So… d’you really forgive me?"

You smirk, eyes still closed. "Mm. Maybe."

His mouth stills against your skin.

A pause.

"Maybe?" His head lifts, green eyes narrowing in playful outrage.

You crack an eye open, smirking at his expression.

"Buy me the whole series and book us a few extra days here, and I might."

His lips twitch.

Then he grins, wide and victorious.

"Done." He nuzzles closer, arms tightening around you. "But only if you read them to me. Naked."

You laugh, soft and sleepy and so incredibly full.

Then, just because you can, you kiss him.

Slow, sweet, lingering.

"Deal."

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 3 months ago

Text

Sick as a Dog

Where Harry is sick and y/n just wants to help him.

Word count: 3,833

Content warning: cursing, mentions of being sick (no throwing up).

I wake up to the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the room. The familiar scent of him—clean, woodsy, with just a hint of his cologne—fills the air. For the first time in what feels like ages, Harry’s here. Really here. Not a FaceTime call, not a text, not a fleeting thought as I drift off to sleep alone. His arm is draped lazily over my waist, his chest rising and falling steadily next to me.

I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, but the movement stirs him anyway. His eyes flutter open, green and warm like spring after a long winter. A soft, sleepy smile spreads across his lips as he tightens his hold on me, pulling me closer.

“Morning, love,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep and that raspy undertone I adore.

“Morning,” I reply, tracing lazy circles on his forearm.

For a while, neither of us says much. Words feel unnecessary. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, then my temple, and finally my lips, slow and unhurried. His stubble grazes my skin, a reminder of how real this is.

Eventually, the world outside our cocoon of blankets starts to intrude. My mental checklist of errands creeps in, and I know his does too. But for now, we linger, soaking in the quiet intimacy of the morning.

“You know,” he says, breaking the silence, “I could stay like this forever.”

I laugh softly. “You say that, but we both know the list waiting for us today.”

He groans in mock protest, burying his face in my neck. “I just got home. Can’t we just…not?”

I want to agree. I want to cancel the errands, turn off the world, and spend the day exactly like this. But life has other plans. I kiss him one last time before sitting up, dragging him reluctantly along with me.

“Alright, Mr. Styles,” I tease, “up and at ’em. Groceries won’t buy themselves.”

With a dramatic sigh, he stretches and finally rises, his hair a tousled mess that somehow still suits him perfectly. The day awaits, but in this moment, everything feels right. He’s home, and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s standing at the dresser, pulling on a simple white graphic tee that hugs his chest just right. He pairs it with light-wash jeans and his trusty white Vans, and I can’t help but stare. His hair is still a little messy from sleep, and there’s this ease about him that makes him look so effortlessly… Harry.

He notices, of course. He always notices. Turning to catch me mid-stare, he smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“Take a picture, Y/N. It’ll last longer,” he teases, his voice dripping with that cheeky charm.

I roll my eyes, trying to fight the grin tugging at my lips. “Maybe I will,” I shoot back, grabbing my phone and pretending to snap a photo.

“You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles, stepping closer to press a quick kiss to my forehead before grabbing his wallet and keys.

I pull on my own pair of jeans, a plain tee, and sneakers. Comfort over style today—though Harry always insists I look good no matter what. As we make our way to the kitchen, he hums softly under his breath, a tune I don’t recognize but know I’ll ask him about later.

Breakfast is simple: toast, eggs, and coffee. Harry insists on making the coffee, declaring himself the “king of the French press.” I don’t argue; he really does make it better than I do.

As we finish up, he grabs his sunglasses and tosses me a lopsided grin. “Ready, love?”

We head out to his car—a sleek black Range Rover that feels way too fancy for a trip to the market, but that’s Harry. As he starts the engine, he glances at me with a playful glint in his eye.

“Do you remember the last time we went to the market?” he asks as we pull onto the London streets.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Not specifically, but I’m sure you’re about to remind me.”

He grins, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “You tried to convince me we needed three different types of cheese for one dish.”

“Because we did,” I argue, crossing my arms.

“And we forgot the bread,” he counters, his laugh filling the car.

The easy banter flows between us as the city passes by outside. It’s moments like these—simple, mundane, yet filled with so much warmth—that make me realize just how much I’ve missed him while he’s been away. He reaches over to squeeze my hand, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

The market is alive with the hum of people, the scent of fresh produce, and the clatter of carts. As soon as we step inside, Harry grabs a cart and immediately veers toward the snacks aisle.

“We don’t need that,” I laugh as he tosses a jumbo bag of crisps into the cart.

“Don’t we?” he counters, feigning offense. “I’ve been deprived of proper snacks for months, love. Let me live a little.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help grinning as he starts piling in more things—chocolates, biscuits, and a random jar of pickles. “Harry,” I warn, trying to keep a straight face.

“What?” he says innocently. “Pickles are essential. You can’t deny it.”

We wander through the market, switching off who pushes the cart while the other roams the shelves. He sneaks in a box of cereal I’m pretty sure we already have at home, and I add a bottle of wine, pretending I didn’t see the outrageous snack haul he’s created.

As we pass the fresh pasta section, he stops, holding up a package of tagliatelle. “What do you think? Pasta for dinner?”

“Sounds perfect,” I say, reaching for a jar of marinara sauce. “What should we do for a side? Garlic bread?”

He nods enthusiastically. “And maybe a little salad. Gotta stay balanced,” he jokes, throwing in a bag of pre-washed greens with exaggerated flair.

By the time we’re at checkout, our cart is an eclectic mix of essentials, indulgences, and things we absolutely don’t need but couldn’t resist. As he loads the bags into the back of the car, he turns to me, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

“What do you think about a movie night tonight?” he asks casually, though there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s up to something.

“I’d love that,” I reply. “I’d love to do anything with you.”

His grin widens, and he leans in just slightly. “Anything, huh?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a suggestive tone.

I shove him playfully, trying to fight the blush creeping up my neck. “Don’t start.”

He laughs, the sound warm and infectious. “What? I’m just saying we could… expand the agenda.”

“Let’s focus on dinner first,” I quip, climbing into the passenger seat.

As he starts the car, he shoots me one last cheeky glance. “Dinner and a movie, it is. For now.”

As we drive back home, the city whizzes by outside the windows, but my attention is completely fixed on Harry. His hand rests casually on the steering wheel, the other drumming lightly to the rhythm of the music playing softly on the radio. The late afternoon sunlight filters through the windshield, casting a soft glow over his face.

I take in the details—the way his tattoos peek out from beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his tee, the way his hair curls just slightly at the ends, looking perfectly imperfect. It’s all so him. Effortless, magnetic, entirely Harry.

My chest tightens with a wave of emotion I can’t suppress. For months, I’ve been waiting for this—to have him home, to watch him do something as simple as drive, to just be with him.

“I love you,” I say softly, the words spilling out before I even realize it.

He glances over at me, his green eyes warm and a little surprised, like he wasn’t expecting it but loves hearing it all the same. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says, his voice gentle but steady, like it’s the easiest truth in the world.

I shake my head, smiling as I try to find the right words. “No, I mean… I really love you. I missed you so much, Harry. I missed this. Us. You.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just reaches over to place his hand on mine, squeezing it gently as his thumb brushes over my knuckles.

“I missed you too, love,” he says quietly. “More than I can even put into words.”

The car falls into a comfortable silence, but it’s filled with so much more than quiet. It’s filled with the weight of everything I feel for him, everything I’ve held onto while he’s been away.

As I look over at him again, I realize just how deeply he’s woven into every part of me. The sound of his laugh, the warmth of his touch, the way he knows exactly what to say to make me feel like the only person in the world—it’s all part of why I love him.

As we pull into the driveway, Harry shifts the car into park and turns to me with a smirk. “Alright, love, get those muscles ready. It’s time to show me what you’re made of.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Excuse me? I’m a delicate flower. I shouldn’t have to carry groceries,” I tease, fluttering my lashes dramatically.

He rolls his eyes, playing along. “Right, how could I forget? Well, I guess I’ll just do it all myself then,” he says, feigning exasperation as he climbs out of the car.

“Good plan,” I call after him, though I follow and grab a couple of bags because I’m not that cruel.

Between the two of us, we manage to carry everything inside, though Harry insists on making a show of flexing his arms every time he brings in another load.

“Impressed yet?” he asks, winking as he sets the last bag on the counter.

“Totally,” I say, deadpan. “Your talent for grocery-hauling is unmatched.”

He grins, leaning against the counter while I start unpacking. As I’m putting things away, I notice him setting a few things aside on the island—the pasta, marinara, garlic, and salad mix.

“Getting a head start on dinner, are you?” I ask, glancing at him over my shoulder.

“Just being efficient,” he replies, pulling out a cutting board and inspecting it like he’s about to perform surgery. “Also, you know I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” I tease, but my words are muffled as I reach into a bag and pull out a pack of cookies.

Harry spots them instantly, his face lighting up. “You’re a genius,” he says, grabbing the pack from me and tearing it open.

“Hey! I was going to do that,” I protest, but he’s already popped a cookie into his mouth, grinning as he chews.

“Too slow, love,” he says, holding the pack out to me.

I take one and lean against the counter next to him, snacking while we chat about nothing and everything. The kitchen fills with the sound of our laughter, the clinking of jars and cans as I finish putting the groceries away, and Harry’s occasional commentary about how he’s “the true mastermind behind dinner.”

Harry hums softly to himself as he moves around the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand as he stirs the pot of simmering sauce. It’s a sight I’ve missed—his ease, his focus, and the way he somehow makes cooking look like an art form.

I sit on one of the barstools, resting my chin in my hand as I watch him. He glances over his shoulder and smirks. “You’re staring again.”

“Can you blame me?” I reply, grinning.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he dips the spoon into the sauce. “Alright, taste test,” he says, walking over to me with the spoon held out.

I lean forward and take a small sip, the tangy warmth of the marinara spreading across my tongue. “Mmm,” I hum, nodding in approval. “That’s really good.”

Harry grins proudly, but his expression turns playful as he tilts his head. “Really good, huh? Just ‘good’? Not ‘amazing’ or ‘out of this world’?”

I roll my eyes and lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Amazing,” I say, teasingly.

He whines dramatically, turning to face me fully. “That’s all I get? A cheek kiss after slaving away over a hot stove?”

Laughing, I reach up and pull him down for a proper kiss, his lips soft and warm against mine. He hums in satisfaction, pulling back just enough to look at me, his green eyes sparkling.

“Much better,” he says, his voice low and content. Then, with a grin, he gestures toward the living room. “Now go on, find us something good for movie night. I’ll finish up here.”

I linger for a moment, watching him as he turns back to the stove, stirring the sauce with one hand and tossing pasta into a pot with the other. He looks so at home, so effortlessly himself, and I feel a wave of love wash over me.

“Anything in particular you’re in the mood for?” I ask, heading toward the couch.

“Something good,” he calls back. “No pressure, though.”

I laugh, flopping onto the couch and scrolling through the streaming options, already knowing whatever I pick, he’ll make it perfect just by being there.

A few minutes later, Harry walks into the living room, balancing two bowls of pasta with garlic bread perched neatly on the side. His careful concentration makes me smile, and he lets out a dramatic sigh of relief as he sets the bowls on the coffee table.

“Dinner is served,” he announces with a grin, plopping down next to me and handing me my bowl.

“Thank you, chef,” I say, nudging his shoulder.

“Only the best for you, love,” he replies, leaning back into the cushions and taking a bite of his pasta.

We settle in, the familiar hum of a rom-com filling the room as we eat. Every so often, Harry sneaks a piece of my garlic bread, and I swat at him in mock protest, though I don’t really mind. It’s comfortable.

When the credits roll, Harry stretches with a groan, his head tilting back against the couch. “I hate to admit it,” he says, his voice laced with playful regret, “but I think I’m officially an old man.”

I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. “What are you talking about? You’re a spring chicken.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “As much as I’d love to expand the evening and, you know, do naughty things, I’m absolutely knackered.”

I giggle, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “That’s fine, Harry. Go on, get some rest. I’ll clean up here.”

He gives me a grateful smile, standing up and stretching again. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Don’t forget it,” I tease, watching him as he heads upstairs, his steps slow and tired.

Once he’s gone, I take my time cleaning up the kitchen and living room. I rinse out the bowls, wipe down the counters, and straighten up the cushions on the couch. It feels good to take care of the space we share, to know he’s upstairs waiting for me.

When I’m done, I slip into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the day. The quiet hum of the house wraps around me, and I feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.

After drying off and pulling on a cozy t-shirt, I head upstairs and crawl into bed next to Harry. He’s already half-asleep, his arm draped across my side as I settle in.

“Night, love,” he mumbles sleepily, his voice muffled but full of warmth.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

The next morning, I wake up to the soft glow of early sunlight streaming through the curtains. I glance over at Harry, expecting to find his side of the bed empty like usual—he’s always the first one up. But this time, he’s still there, lying on his stomach with one arm draped over the pillow.

It’s rare to catch him sleeping in, but he looks peaceful, his face relaxed in the quiet morning light. Not wanting to disturb him, I carefully slip out of bed and head downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, I decide to make breakfast—something simple: scrambled eggs, toast, and some fruit. The rhythmic sounds of the whisk and the faint sizzle of butter in the pan fill the kitchen as I work.

I’m almost done cooking when I hear slow, shuffling footsteps behind me. Turning around, I see Harry leaning against the doorframe, his hair sticking up in every direction. His face looks pale, and there’s a groggy, pained expression in his eyes.

“Morning,” I say, but before I can say more, he groans softly, running a hand through his hair.

“I feel like absolute shit,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Concern washes over me as I set the spatula down and walk toward him. “What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning his face.

He rubs his temples, leaning heavily against the counter. “Head’s pounding, throat feels like it’s on fire, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a fever,” he mutters, his tone laced with irritation at his own body. Then he waves his hand weakly at me. “Don’t come near me. I don’t want you to catch whatever this is.”

Ignoring his warning, I step closer, my brows knitting in worry. “Harry, I don’t care about that. Sit down,” I say firmly, guiding him to a chair at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t argue, letting out another groan as he sinks into the seat. His head drops into his hands, and I can tell he’s trying to push through it, but it’s clear he’s not feeling himself.

“I’ll get you some tea and medicine,” I say softly, already moving to put the kettle on.

He glances up at me, his green eyes heavy with exhaustion but still filled with affection. “You don’t have to fuss over me, love,” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

“Of course I do,” I reply, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You always take care of me. Now it’s my turn.”

He smiles faintly, leaning back in the chair as I set about getting him what he needs, determined to nurse him back to health.

I set a mug of tea in front of Harry, the steam curling up in delicate clouds. “Tea with honey,” I say softly, sliding the plate of scrambled eggs and toast next to it. I make sure to add two Tylenols, placing them neatly on the napkin.

He looks up at me, his face still pale but his expression grateful. “Thanks, love,” he murmurs, his voice raspy.

I sit across from him, watching as he takes a sip of tea and winces slightly. “It’s the post-tour crud,” he says with a small, tired chuckle. “Happens every time. My immune system’s just catching up after weeks of running on adrenaline.”

“Well, it’s catching up hard,” I reply, leaning my elbows on the table. “But it’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

He shakes his head slowly, frowning. “I feel bad, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this. And I don’t want to get you sick.”

I reach out and cover his hand with mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Harry, I don’t care. You’ve taken care of me plenty of times when I was sick. Remember when I had that horrible flu last year? You didn’t leave my side.”

“That’s different,” he says, his lips tugging into a weak smile. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

I laugh softly, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. “Well, now it’s my turn. You’re always looking out for me, Harry. Let me look out for you this time, alright?”

He doesn’t argue further, just looks at me with a mix of gratitude and affection, his eyes slightly glassy from the fever. “I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Yes, you do,” I say firmly, standing to refill his tea. “Now eat, take your Tylenol, and let me fix you.”

Despite his groans of protest, I can see the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

After breakfast, I set to work transforming the couch into a fortress of comfort. I grab every blanket I can find, piling them up alongside a collection of fluffy pillows, creating a cozy little nest. I pick a lighthearted show—something easy to watch, the kind Harry loves to have on in the background when he’s feeling off.

“Alright,” I say, standing back to admire my work. “Your throne awaits, Mr. Styles. Sit down, relax, and get comfy.”

He shuffles over from the kitchen, looking every bit the part of someone who’s feeling under the weather. As soon as he sinks into the pile of blankets, a sneeze erupts, followed by a series of coughs.

“Bless you,” I say, walking over to him. I lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, but he holds up a hand weakly, stopping me.

“Y/N,” he warns, his voice hoarse. “I’m sick. You shouldn’t—”

I ignore him, leaning in anyway to kiss his warm skin. “I really don’t care,” I say softly. “You’re stuck with me, germs and all.”

He shakes his head, clearly too tired to argue further, as I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a hug. His head rests against my shoulder, and I can feel the heat radiating from him. He’s definitely running a fever, but I don’t let go.

Once he settles, I sit on the couch and tug him gently toward me, guiding him to rest against my chest. He lets out a tired sigh, letting his body relax into mine as I drape a blanket over both of us.

I start running my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead, and rub his back gently. “You’re burning up,” I whisper.

“I told you not to get close,” he mutters, though his voice is soft and grateful.

“Well, I told you I don’t care,” I reply, pressing my cheek to the top of his head.

He shifts slightly, snuggling closer, his hand resting lightly on my leg as the show plays quietly in the background. I keep stroking his hair and tracing light patterns on his back, hoping the touch soothes him.

For the first time since he woke up, he seems to relax fully, his breathing evening out as he watches the screen. Even though he’s warm to the touch and clearly miserable, I can feel the tension in his body melting away.

“I love you,” he mumbles sleepily.

“I love you too,” I whisper back, holding him a little tighter.

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

Text

Spiderman | fratboy!harry

Continuation of this one shot - but can be read as standalone.

Summary: You’re at the big Halloween frat costume party and get to flirting with someone dressed as Spiderman. The tall, masked man with a deep voice just so happens to know a private spot to reveal his true identity to you.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, slight mask kink, this is mostly just gratuitous smut

Tonight was your excuse to dress up like the supervillain Poison Ivy. A short green dress with patches of fabric leaves all over and a crown of ivy on your head. Mostly it was just something cute to wear to draw a little attention. Plus Poison Ivy is bisexual so you were hoping at least someone picked up the hint. All were welcome, so to speak.

When you got to the frat house you noted all the sexy and fun Halloween costumes. Lots of tit-bearing cats, a few she-devils, some baseball players in well-fitted jerseys, a Lego. The house was packed. The music was loud. Too many of your fellow university schoolmates had begun drinking early. You arrived late on purpose. Drunk wasn’t a cute look. At least you didn’t think it was. Not on you anyway. And you kind of hoped to get hit on and maybe get lucky. Tipsy sex could be fun. Drunk sex wasn’t memorable enough to be worth it.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while.” You looked over at a tall someone dressed in a Spiderman costume. The hood was covering his face so his identity was a mystery, though you thought you recognized the voice as someone you’d had a fun hookup with once.

You leaned your hip into the counter just as you’d finished pouring yourself a drink, “Is that so? I guess I wouldn’t know if I’d seen you around or not since I can’t exactly be sure who you are.”

His laugh had you grinning suddenly as he mimicked your stance, leaning his own hip into the counter facing you, though you couldn’t see his eyes under the spandex material.

“So, you’re telling me you can’t recognize me by my body?” He leaned his head down as if looking over himself before bringing his face back upward, “This costume hardly hides anything.”

You cocked your head, sipping your drink as you allowed your eyes to travel over the red and blue spandex. It clung tightly to his chest and hips, thighs… You didn’t miss the bulge either as you brought your eyes back up to the spot where you figured his eyes were under the mask, “Nope. Sorry. Should I recognize you by your body alone?”

You could tell he was smiling under the spandex, “You should. As I recall, you know my body rather intimately.”

Now you were certain it was the fun hookup you had a while back. You didn’t know him well. But you did know him to be quite popular. And attractive. And the time he went back to your dorm with you and your friend was quite memorable. But you decided to play coy a little bit. Just to get him going.

“Really? Hmm…” You feigned confusion as you slowly ate up his frame, inch by inch with your gaze. His heavy-looking bulge was a nice reminder of how sizable he was. You wouldn’t forget it. “Still doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t see any outstanding features here.” You waved your hand up and down gesturing at his frame.

He nodded and remained quiet. You were sure he was feeling you out. Trying to see if you were fucking with him or not. You were.

When he inched in toward you and placed his gloved hand over your forearm he leaned in and spoke quietly into your ear, “I’ll give you a hint. Would you like a hint, Y/n?”

You nodded as you felt his warmth. He was so close to your body as he spoke, “Had you bouncing on my cock, made you come, all while your friend watched us fuck.”

You swallowed. Yes. You remembered very clearly that night. It was the only time you’d ever done anything like it before. And now, he was clearly trying to get you in bed again. At least… that was the vibe you were getting. You looked down and realized his bulge was, well it was bulging. Was he getting turned on just thinking about it? You needed to have him again. Wouldn’t mind feeling that thick cock inside of you once more.

You sighed and turned to face his mask, “Hmm… maybe. I’m not positive, though. Might need to check a few things out to verify–“

Harry’s grip on your forearm tightened, “Can be arranged. Wanna go find a room so you can verify?”

You laughed as you looked around. You’d never been talked into something like this so fast in your life. Then again, Harry, you knew it was him, was quite convincing and he was good in bed from what you remember. You couldn’t feel bad for giving in so quickly.

Harry took your hand and you followed him upstairs, leaving your unfinished drink in the kitchen and long forgotten.

The good thing about the frat house was that it was massive and there were enough bedrooms that you were able to find a free room almost right away.

Harry locked the door behind himself and then suddenly he was pushing you backward toward the bed where you fell to your bottom the moment the back of your thighs hit the edge. You giggled as he put his spandex-covered hands on your thighs. Propping yourself up by your elbows you watched him take in your bare legs and then one by one, lift each upward to remove your heels. He was between your thighs and the erection he was sporting indicated he wasn’t wearing underwear. Or if he was he’d fully pushed his way up and out of the top band.

“M’gonna give you a little reminder. Take you down memory lane and have you sit on my face. Is that all right?” He climbed over you on the bed, hovering over your body and looking down at you. You really wished you could see his pretty eyes.

“Okay. But how are you gonna do anything with this on?” You plucked at the fabric covering his face.

You heard a breathy, amused laugh fall from his chest as he pushed himself off of you and laid down on his back, “You’ll see. Climb up.”

You adjusted yourself, straddling his torso, and then lifted upward, gently placing yourself over his face, not yet sitting all the way. You were still wearing panties and you were hovered over his mask so you weren’t sure what his plan was exactly.

“Lean forward a bit.” He spoke from under you.

Leaning forward, you put your hands on the headboard and he adjusted something underneath you and that’s when you realized he was lifting his mask to uncover his mouth and part of his nose before pushing your panties aside and grasping your thighs, pulling you down on his mouth. You laughed when you settled and looked at the Spiderman mask between your thighs. You couldn’t see much of his nose and his mouth was covered by your pussy but the whole thing felt ridiculous to you.

Ridiculous until he began mouthing at your pussy slowly, using his tongue through your crease and his hands gripped your ass, pushing you into him further.

“Oh!” You tightly grabbed onto the headboard again in a gasp.

His warm tongue slid up and down and his moans made you hot. You hadn’t quite been ready but with his mouth on your clit, you were quickly aroused and slowly wetting his face.

Kissing and sucking sounds below drew your eyes down to him. You could see his dark curls sticking out from the edges of his mask where he’d pulled it up, his pink lips were also memorable. How had you not reached out to him after that first night? He was good. And he was so fucking hot. But he was also really nice to you and to your friend.

You tilted your pelvis down and dragged your clit over his nose and moaned softly as he pushed his tongue into your entrance. The slow lathering of his tongue up and down your crease and his puckering lips felt just as good as you remembered.

He pushed at you and inhaled a sharp breath, “Starting to remember me now?” His shiny berry lips quirked up in a cocky smile as you panted and shook your head, “Nuh-uh. I’ve sat on lots of faces. Gonna have to give me something more if you really want me to remember you.”

His raspy laugh had his nostrils flaring and he pushed at you, causing you to move off his face, “Fine,” he breathed as he sat up, “Lie down. Looks like you need something a little extra.”

Your back hit the mattress as he sat back on his haunches and pulled at your panties, tearing them down your legs and pushing your dress up your thighs, exposing your cunt to him as he lowered his face over you, his shoulders bumping into the back of your thighs to hold you down.

“Y/n, you taste just like you did before. So soft and sweet,” he ran his spandex-covered finger through your crease and you gasped at the odd feeling of it. He laughed at your reaction, “You’re wet enough that this should still feel really good. Tell me if it’s irritating to your skin,” his mouth and nose, and ends of his hair were still exposed as he circled two fingers over your clit and had his face tilted toward you.

When he opened his mouth wide and lowered it over your clit you grasped onto his hood and sighed. It was so good. Just like before. His tongue and lips and the way he gently sucked you in made you quiver.

But it was the odd sensation of his fabric-covered fingers slipping through your wetness that kept you very much in the moment. You kept imagining that the shiny spandex would soon collect all your wetness and you’d be left dry and it would start to hurt but it was the opposite.

The smooth material became coated and the extra friction from the fabric felt yummy.

He slurped your clit and took a good long lick upward from your entrance to your clit and then held up two of his fingers so you could see, “Look. Just want you to see this before I start fucking you with them. Nice and slippery,” he scissored his fingers apart and you saw the strings of arousal stick together,” But tell me if you don’t like it.”

“Oh my god…” you moaned as you craned your neck up to watch him as he slowly plunged them inside of you.

You tightened your thighs, but Harry used his free hand to hold you apart and the grin on his face as he watched his gloved fingers slide in and out of you was lewd, “Hear that?” He increased the speed at which he was fingering you, your wetness being pushed in and out with his fingers was definitely audible, “Bet that feels so good, doesn’t it, Y/n?”

You nodded and moaned again, still trying to keep your neck tilted so you could watch.

When he wrapped his mouth around your clit once again, though, you cried out and your head fell back onto the mattress in surrender.

His fingers, his tongue, and his lips had you writhing and moaning pathetically, “Oh fuck…” you cried as he curled his fingers just right, and flattened his tongue over your clit, his face aimed toward you as if he were watching your reaction.

He continued fingering you as he lifted his face and planted a sweet kiss to your clit, “How’s it feel? Do you want to come, Y/n?”

You moaned and gasped as you nodded, “Yes, Harry…” and the moment you said his name you knew you were busted. Your eyes widened and Harry’s grin took over his face, you could see the beginnings of his dimples.

“Figured you’d remember me,” he kissed your clit again and spoke against your pussy, “Hang on, sweet girl. Gonna finish you off properly.”

And finish you off he did. Properly at that. He held you down with one shoulder and one hand as he fingered you with his other and sucked and dug into your clit. The noises were obscene. From the wetness you’d created, to the fast pace of his fingers pushing and curling into you, to his slurping and moaning…

“Come on baby,” he coaxed when he felt your thighs shaking and your moans turned into whimpers and cries.

His tongue flicked side to side quickly and then he dug in as if he was sucking the last bits of juice off a mango and the vibrations from his moans had you seeing stars. You gripped his head and shouted his name as you came in his mouth. You thought you heard a laugh come from him but you were so far gone in ecstasy that you couldn’t care. You knew you were being loud but it wasn’t every day that a man came around to give you head the way Harry was.

When you’d opened your eyes you noticed you pushed his mask up further with how you’d been hanging on, nearly his whole nose was exposed as he softly licked upward from your entrance to your clit. He removed his fingers and was cradling the underside of your thighs with both hands. Like a loving little gesture to help you come down.

Suddenly he was hovering over you and had his lips pressed to yours. Your first kiss of the night and it tasted like your pussy. But you liked the taste of pussy so it didn’t bother you.

You could feel Harry’s hard erection on your thigh as he licked into your mouth and cupped your face.

It felt so sweet and so desperate at the same time. You knew he needed to be taken care of too. He deserved to have the favor returned after the way he’d just handled you with such precision.

Pushing at his shoulders he gasped as he parted from your lips, “What do you need, Harry?” You asked him.

He moaned and rolled his hips down so you could really feel him, “You. Just you. Whatever you’re willing to give.”

You grinned and wrapped your finger around a chunk of his hair, “But what do you want? Want a blow job? Want to fuck me? Want my hands?”

Harry exhaled heavily and dropped his mouth open, “Can’t stop thinking about how good you felt on my cock. The way we fit together.”

You bucked your hips up and nodded, “I can’t stop thinking about it either. You felt so good. Stretched me out so nice.”

“Fuck.” Harry quickly moved off of you and stood at the edge of the bed before opening up the side drawer, “Need a condom.”

You rolled over and opened up the other side table drawer to rummage through it. Not finding anything other than pens and loose charger cables. You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel bad about rummaging through a stranger’s things when you had Harry Styles about to fuck you.

Harry adjusted his cock as he quickly walked to the dresser on the other side of the room and looked through the top drawer and let out a groan of relief, “Fuck yes.”

Holding up the condom he placed it on the dresser and untied the top of his spandex suit. He was still wearing the mask, though it had been pushed upward and his hair was exposed at the ends, slightly more grown out than the last time you saw him, but he was too focused on his task to worry about how funny he looked with his mask half covering his face. The moment he untied the top he began to pull at the suit and peel it down his toned and tattooed torso. You sat up and watched him undress. He had no underwear on just as you suspected.

You had to laugh at the spectacle. Just like a woman wearing a cute tight body suit, men had the same issue with needing to remove the entire thing in order to use the bathroom, or in your case, fuck.

“Heey, don’t laugh. Beauty comes with a price.” He grinned as he kicked the body suit away and opened up the condom, slowly putting it over himself. He looked over at you and tilted his chin upward, “Get your dress off. Wanna see those pretty tits.”

You giggled and pulled at your stretchy dress, easily removing it by the time he made his way back to the bed. He climbed over you, his mask still covering his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you.

The way his mouth moved against yours and his hands found your breasts and your ribs and your tummy as he moaned and licked at your tongue gave you a surge of need. You lifted your hips toward his and slid your hands down his torso to grab his cock.

He pushed himself down into your hand and then reared back gently to slip his shaft through your labia, wetting the condom, “This is gonna be better than the first time. No performance anxiety with a third watching.” He grinned down at you as he moved back to take you in below him.

You laughed as he pulled at your thighs and lifted your legs over his, angling your hips upward so your bottom was positioned on the tops of his thighs, “Were you nervous last time with Heidi? It was your idea? And… can we take this off?” You gestured to his mask.

“Heidi? That was her name?” He responded as he pulled the mask off from over his eyes and tossed it behind himself. “Sorry, I barely remember. But… I wanted you to think I was cool. Plus she was kinda cute. But it was really all about you.”

You pushed yourself up to your elbows at this revelation, “Wait. You only invited her because you wanted me to think you were cool?”

He shrugged and smiled shyly, “Yeah. Knew you liked girls too. Figured it might make you like me if I was cool with that.”

You shook your head, “And then you just never reached out to me again after?”

He puffed out a soft laugh, “I don’t know. Felt like maybe you weren’t as into me. Didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

You took his hand and pushed your fingers between his, “Well, after this it looks like we’ve got some talking to do. I kinda thought you were too cool for me so that’s why you never bothered.”

The look on his face was surprised, “Me? Too cool? That’s not… no way. If anyone is too cool it’s you, Y/n.”

You laughed and tugged at his hand, “Please, Harry. Just fuck me.” You were relieved to see his eyes and the top of his head finally. Just as handsome as before, hair slightly more undone from the hood he had over his head, but it was perfect for what you two were about to do.

Harry let out a shaky breath and looked down to where your entrance was wet and softly clenching for him already. His lips dropped open as he leaned forward, your hand still in his, pressing it down to the mattress next to your head as he pushed his tip in.

“Ohh…” you breathed out and watched his face scrunch up as he plunged in slowly.

“Feel that? This the reminder you needed?” He whispered lowly as he inched in.

There was a moment of silence between you two as you watched each other and he began to move in and out, deeper on each thrust. Heavy breaths and soft moans until he’d reached into you as far as humanly possible, hips rocking into you and fingers tightly squeezing around yours.

“Fuck me… Fucking condom sucks but you… holy shit…” Harry moaned and began to roll into you faster.

You reached your free hand up to move his hair from his face, “Harry… you feel so good inside of me. Oh, my god…” The snap of his hips wetly collided with you as the small bed creaked gently.

Harry held himself up with one hand, palm flat on the mattress as pushed into you, his muscles tensing and flexing above you, “Yeah? Feels good just like you remember? You’re so wet for me, Y/n. Didn’t know you needed me so bad,” he panted his words.

You were wet for him. So wet it was almost embarrassing, but you were glad in a way because he was quite sizable, and if you’d been any less wet it might have hurt. But as it was, the slip and the stretch and the way he could drag himself in and out was delicious.

You cupped his face and moaned loudly as he pounded into you harder. You could feel your tits wobbling and the bed dancing under your back. Harry was groaning and his eyes grew dark fast. Every time he bottomed out he ground himself into you deeply and you gasped at the ache, “Careful! You’re almost too deep!” You breathed out your words in a rush.

His cocky smirk meant that he took that as a compliment, so he did it once more, his eyes pinned to yours as he slowly stuffed himself into your cervix, “Ahh! Harry…” You widened your eyes and then he pushed himself back to his haunches.

“Sorry. Can’t help it,” he spoke, still grinning at you as he smoothed his fingers over your clit and worked his cock in from the new angle.

You knew he was long and that he’d reach deep, but that kind of deepness usually wasn’t achieved without you being on top. Even average-length guys felt deeper when you were on top. But Harry, of course, wasn’t average-sized. And you could tell he was very aware of that fact. Proud of it even.

With his fingers on your clit and the new angle his cock was nudging into your little sparkly, yummy soft spot inside over and over again. You moaned his name and he let go of your hand to fondle your tits. He continued a nice pace, slipping back and pushing in, long, exquisite strokes that filled you and stretched your insides apart. You could only imagine how he’d feel without the condom inhibiting the texture of his skin pressed into your skin. The friction, the way his foreskin would move inside of you, and his swollen tip uninhibited by smooth latex would really make the drag something.

“Yesss!” You moaned as he hit your spot perfectly, the repeated glide of his thick crown into your g-spot, had you trembling.

Harry breathed hard through his nose as he looked down to where he was fucking into you and back to your eyes, “Gonna come already, Y/n? Tell me how good it is.”

“Fuck, Harry… You’re so big and you're pressing into something inside of me that I can’t… I’m gonna… it’s so good… so full… oh fuck! Gonna come…” you babbled and moaned as the bed squeaked and the headboard softly tapped the wall in time with Harry’s thrusts.

“Shit. Was gonna fuck you doggy but if you come I’m gonna come, baby. I can’t help it. Your wet pussy is just sucking me in,” he pressed down over your clit and hastened his fingers and you could feel him shaking.

You tensed your thighs and cried out just as a knock came to the door. Someone was saying something but you were gone. Your ears were ringing and your loud cries and buttery, mouthwatering orgasm were all you could focus on.

Harry groaned and pushed into you a few more times, before he couldn’t hold back, dumping his come into the condom with a choked moan.

He could hear someone threatening to unlock the door but Harry was in bliss. There was no way he could stop his cock from twitching and coming and you were so sweet and pretty below him with your face scrunched and your cries of nonsense.

The cliché of time standing still had been true in that moment. You couldn’t stop trembling and clenching over him as you felt his cock throbbing inside of you. Harry’s own orgasm just prolonged yours. He had leaned over you, his fingers in your hair as he pushed into you with gasps and soft whimpers.

When you finally opened your eyes and Harry had caught his breath the door was opened and Harry turned back quickly, covering your frame with his broad chest, “Sorry! We’ll get out. Just… let us get dressed,” Harry’s words came out breathy and stuttered as he was still breathing heavily.

“Harry? God damnit! Just… Fine. You owe me, man.” The guy who was speaking closed the door. You never saw his face because Harry had covered you and when he sat back he smiled softly at you.

“Want to go back to mine? Stay with me tonight? We can talk a little.”

You grinned and sighed with a nod, “Of course. And then maybe if you’re up for it, you can fuck me doggy like you wanted.”

Harry breathed out a laugh from his nose, “Oh I’ll be up for it.”

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hsdiaries · 1 year ago

Text

Oh Anna.

4.9k words - LHH!harry x best friend!original character x Niall.

Threesome, oral f & m recieving, p in v. Slight praise, slight dom.

Harry & Niall play a game on who can make Anna come more.

I pushed through the crowd, making my way to the back of the house. I hated parties, truly everything about them was pointless to me. Drunken fake conversations with people I wouldn't even remember tomorrow. I wasn't planning on coming, I was already in my bed when Anna texted me.

Anna:

Please come Haz. I want you here.

That was all it took and I was out of bed in skinny black jeans and a baggy grey tee; hair tied up in a bun. Now I was here, pushing my way through the crowd at Niall's house; all because his girlfriend said she wanted me here.

Yeah, that's right, his girlfriend.

Anna, Niall and I had been best friends for as long as I can remember. Niall and I always fighting for her attention since the moment we met her.

Obviously he won.

Yet, I was never fully convinced that he won every bit of it. She never stopped being flirty with me. Never stopped being touchy. Never stopped staring at me with those damn honey eyes.

I finally spotted my friends at the back of the house, on the normal grey couch we would all always congregate at. I pushed through the final group of people, as Niall turned and faced me.

"H! You came! What the hell?" He said walking over and embracing me. I chuckled and nodded.

"Decided I missed your pale Irish arse," I raised my eyebrows at him, causing him to laugh a big belly laugh.

"What's so funny?" I heard the sweetness of her voice behind us, and I released Niall, turning to face in her direction.

"Nothing, just Niall's face." I shrugged and he shoved me as we both laughed.

Anna giggled, her bottom lip disappearing behind her teeth before pursing out softly, "I mean, sometimes." She moved her honey brown eyes from me to wink at Niall.

"Yet you love me." Niall said, leaning close and kissing her nose, making me look away.

"Sometimes." She responded, glancing over at me. She was wearing a green crop top, high waisted jeans. She moved over to hug me and the smell of Black Opium filled my lungs. It was her signature scent.

"Thanks for coming." She said once Niall turned his attention back to the group. The pink of her lips was almost red today, I loved how the plumpness of the bottom always settled on her chin a bit.

"Only for you. Just remember that." I winked at her as she let me go, a smirk appearing on her face.

"Sooo, I brought us something..." she said addressing the group while still holding my gaze.

"And what would that be?" Tanya said, Anna moving her attention over. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small baggie with blue pills. Blue pills this group was really familiar with.

Tanya's eyes widened and she snatched the bag waving it around at the group, "Baby Anna always pulling through!" She quickly opened the bag, taking one out and popping it in her mouth like it was candy. She passed the bag around, our group each taking one. The baggie got to me and I grabbed it, handing it back to Anna.

"That's yours, H." She said, just looking at the bag then back at me.

"Not tonight, Anna." I said, and instantly she had those eyes. The soft ones, that narrowed in such a sexy manner.

"Please H. We have so much more fun." She pouted, her hand on my arm, causing me to swallow hard. Niall wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her towards him.

"Yeah, H, come on." He pretended to pout, fluttering his lashes at me causing me to laugh.

"Alright, alright, but you lot are responsible for waking my ass up tomorrow!" I said, emptying out the last pill in my hand before popping it in my mouth. Anna smirked, peeking up at Niall then back at me.

"Deal." She said, biting her lip.

—

Everyone started to feel the drug around the same time. It became an instant love fest. Hugs, kisses and so much touching. This was the normal with us, a giant orgy of a fucking friend group. Truth was everyone had fucked, touched, kissed done just about everything with everyone.

Except Anna and I.

It was the one boundary I never crossed.

But tonight, I wanted to cross it a million times over. I sat on the couch as everyone was up dancing. Tanya had found herself attached to my neck, her legs across mine as she nipped, sucked and kissed at my skin. She was trying to work me up, to get me to return the same lust towards her, but my eyes were fixed on Anna as she danced on Niall.

I watched as she reached her hands up, wrapping around Niall's neck, her perfect ass moving in motions that would drive any man wild, pushing back against him. He had his hands all over her, along her waist line, her hips. I saw him reaching between her legs, applying pressure in ways I knew I could do better. She tossed her head back onto his shoulder, turning her face so she could suck at his neck. I closed my eyes, pretending Tanya was Anna. Pretending she was dancing on me, her ass moving against my cock, it hardening at the idea of being that close to her.

I opened my eyes, looking back over at her and to my surprise she was already looking at me. Her eyes were skimming over the situation that was Tanya, her lips pursing. She shook her head, using it to call me over. I wasn't sure at first, until she mouthed the word.

"Come here." Her lips curled and I didn't hesitate.

"'Scuse me." I said pushing Tanya gently off of me.

"Harry, what the fuck!" I heard her say, but it didn't matter because I was moving straight to where I was being called.

I moved to stand in front of Anna, licking my lower lip, "You called."

She giggled and nodded, peeking up at Niall, "Baby, can I dance with Harry?"

Niall opened his eyes, as if coming to for the first time in a while, clearly on more than just the molly, "Yeah, that's fine." He said kissing her neck, "Just for a little." He started to let her go and she quickly grabbed his arm, turning around to face him.

"No, I want to dance with both of you." She said slyly, her hand moving up his arm. He looked down at her hand, then back to her face. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, feeling overwhelmed by everything going on. I wanted to touch her already, and I didn't want to wait for his response.

I moved forward, wrapping my arm around Anna's waist, pressing my cock into her ass. I was already hard and I wanted her to know it. I felt a pang of energy flow through me as she rolled her hips softly back, grinding on me. I felt my eyes want to close, but I had to do something first. I had to make Niall think this was his idea.

"She thinks she can handle us both mate, ain't that a funny thought." I said, smirking over at him. He narrowed his eyes a bit at me, taking in the situation then shaking his head.

"We ain't doing this mate. Not with her." He said, running his hands through his hair, watching my hands move over her stomach.

"Doing what?" Anna said, a slight innocence that didn't suit her layering her voice.

I took a chance, the risk of Niall decking me was something I could take. I turned my face into her neck, running the tip of my nose along the length of it. I heard her inhale sharply, pressing my lips against her neck. I didn't kiss her, I just spoke against it.

"Niall and I, we used to have a certain thing we liked to do. It was a game almost." I said, pressing a soft kiss against her neck.

I heard her hum softly, a slight laugh escaping her lips, "Mm, a game? What was the game baby?" She said, pulling him closer to her. Niall's eyes searched Anna's face before his eyes shifted to me.

"Haz..." he said, his face so serious.

"He's scared I'll win if we dare to play again." I smirked, and he cocked his head to the side.

"You forget I have the upper hand here Styles." He said, challenging me, so I knew my taunting was working.

"And yet, I'd still win." I said, raising and lowering both my eyebrows, my lips moving back to Anna's neck causing her head to fall back slightly.

That's when it happened, the switch in Niall's head, "We used to see who could make a girl come more. That's the game."

Anna's head went straight, her face turning to me and then to Niall, "But then couldn't one of you just lie?"

"Oh no, Anna," I said, my hand wrapping around her neck, my thumb and pointer finger applying the softest pressure. I moved my lips to her ear, "We did it at the same time, taking turns. Whatever worked."

"Oh..." she swallowed, her face turned to me, and I loosened my grip on her neck a bit, then back to Niall. She licked her pink lips, "I wanna play." She said softly.

Niall took a deep breath, swallowing hard before he glared up at me, "Fine. Once everyone leaves, until then, keep your hands off her." He pulled her out of my arms and I chuckled, quickly reaching down and adjusting myself. I threw my hands up in defense and nodded.

"Hands off. 'Til later anyways." I smirked.

—

Everyone had slowly left the party, I sat on the couch, sipping on a whiskey. I laid my head back on the couch, closing my eyes, the molly was making me jittery at this point, but I didn't know what to do with all the extra energy.

As I sat, I felt someone climb on me, a leg on either side of me. My freehand moved to feel a bare leg, making me question who it was; but it was the damn Black Opium that let me know it was Anna. I smirked, keeping my head back and eyes closed.

"Is it game time already?" I teased and she giggled. I was surprised to feel her lips on my neck, my senses flying out the window the moment it happened. She kissed up to my ear, biting it softly.

"Niall's just locking up. I told him I was going to get started." She said, before pressing her lips on my earlobe.

Fucking hell.

I opened my eyes, sitting up and she pushed back so we could lock eyes, "Be an angel and place this down for me." I said, before quickly downing my whiskey and handing her the glass. I held onto her waist as she bent back placing the glass on the floor. She was in just her crop top and lace burgundy thong. I helped her sit back straight on me, but I pulled her closer to me, so our faces were inches from each other.

"I'm going to win," I whispered, "And you're going to regret not picking me."

Anna's POV

I searched his eyes and swallowed hard. There was a darkness that filled his eyes, just as his hand cupped my face pulling me in and kissing me deeply. His tongue quickly finding mine. For a moment I didn't know what to do with my hands, still completely stunned by his initial comment. Before I even had a chance to think about it, I felt someone pull me off of him; flipping me around. My back was pressed into Harry, both of us falling back against the couch. Niall leaned down, biting at my lower lip, before kissing me deeply. He broke the kiss, looking over my shoulder at Harry, "I'll start."

He winked, standing up straight and slipping off his shirt; before lowering himself back down. He slipped his arms under the bend of my knees, slipping me down Harry's body so that my ass was hanging between the open space of Harry's legs. He dropped down to his knees, his lips moving up right thigh, placing kisses up it. His tongue moved up my thigh, skimming along the front line of my thong; tracing the bend of my upper thigh and hip. It drove chills through me, his lips moving to my center, his tongue lapping on my clit over the thin material of my thong.

My head fell back, remembering I was laying on Harry. I peeked up at him and he smirked, his hands soon on my body. His hands were so big, strong as they touched me, moving over my tits. He palmed at them over my crop top, my nipples hardening and I wanted nothing more than for him to slip it off me. Meanwhile, Niall's hands were on my hips, pulling my thong down and off my body. He bit at my legs as he made his way back to my middle, his tongue soon met my folds, moving my wetness along every part of my center.

"Mmm," I hummed, my hands reaching down into Niall's hair and as if I was giving him too much attention; Harry's hands pushed down my top, one hand on each of my tits, his fingers teasing at my nipples.

His lips were on my cheek, placing kisses on it as his hands moved on me. His lips moving down to my ear, whispering softly, "You feel good, Anna?" I felt myself nod, as Niall's tongue rolled on my clit, he sucked at it, causing my eyes to roll back, "You like when he eats you out like that angel? His tongue taking in your sweetness."

His words made me push Niall's head down further on me, his tongue moving down my slit, creating a figure eight motion along my opening, up to my clit. Each time he reached my clit he would suck on it softly, building an anticipation in me for every time it would come. Niall knew it drove me insane and he was using it to his advantage.

"Oh god, yes." I moaned out, and Harry pulled at my already hard nipples, causing me to yelp from the mixture of pain and pleasure I was feeling. He slapped my tits, palming at them to soothing the pain, and I heard myself whimper at the sensation. He did it, again and again, Niall adjusting himself to slip two fingers inside of me, instantly curling in me and meeting my sweet spot.

"Oh, fuck, Ni—that feels so...oh god." I moaned, my hips beginning to buck towards him, his fingers curving in me, his tongue on my clit. I felt every bit of me tremble at the feeling of being touched like I was, Niall's gentle roughness, mixed with Harry's aggressive nature was driving me to my edge.

"That's it angel, does he feel good? Do you feel good being eat out like that by him, hmm?" His hand moved up to my neck, choking me as his other hand kept rolling my nipples in his fingers. Niall moved his face, his thumb replacing his tongue on my clit, his fingers still moving inside me, quickly along my g spot, in and out.

"Look at me, petal." He cooed at me, and I bit my lip, struggling to move my eyes to him, "Come for me love." He encouraged me as my eyes found his. His thumb moving quick circles over my clit. My mess was clear on his chin and when he licked his lips, my back arched.

"Oh ... fu .. Niall." I moaned his name, my head falling back. Harry turned my face to his, kissing me deeply, his tongue running past mine. I moaned into our kiss, feeling the knot in my stomach the quicker Niall moved his thumb and his fingers. I broke the kiss, rest my forehead against Harry's cheek, whimpers escaping me.

"Come Anna, come so I can finally show you what you've been missing." Harry whispered and that was enough to take me there. The thought alone of finally have Harry touch me in this way carried me straight to my high. I felt myself clench around Niall's fingers, my mess spilling all over him.

"Oh god, yes. Mmm..." I said, feeling my body go limp. I didn't have a moment to breath, soon Harry was pulling me up, and laying me on the couch, leaving space between my head and the arm rest. I watched as he hovered over me, I took him in, his muscles, his tattoos. He was beautiful and I couldn't deny it. He unbuttoned his pants, his hard length clearly being suffocated by his tight pants. I pushed up, trying to help him, to offer relief and he quickly pushed me down.

"He's going to need you more than me." He said, pointing with his eyes in Niall's direction. I turned to face him, he was down to just his briefs, his hard length filling them up. He walked over and kneeled down, kissing me. I reached up and pulled his face closer to mine, thanking him for my high. He groaned against my lips, and I reach down, my hand palming over his length.

In that moment Harry placed three fingers on my clit, his motions were painstakingly slow on me, but due to my sensitivity from my previous high, it felt like he was moving quickly. I broke my kiss from Niall. Looking over at Harry, I felt a whine escape me, my hips pushing forward against his fingers and he used his free hand to push me down.

"Patience, angel. I know your sensitive right now. I know this still feels so good, don't it?" He teased and I felt my eyes roll back slightly.

"Harry please, oh god..." I begged but his fingers kept moving slowly on me.

"Come here." I heard Niall say, turning my face towards him, he squeezed my cheeks softly, slipping his thumb into my mouth, "Lend me your mouth, petal?" He said as he pulled out his cock from his briefs, precum already on his pink tip. I nodded in his hold, hungry for him, feeling so many sensations all over my body being touched by both of them. He pushed his cock in my mouth, not allowing anytime to adjust, shoving his length to the back of my throat. I swallowed against his length causing him to groan.

"Fuck Anna, your mouth." He said, pulling out only to thrust back in, over and over. My saliva was all over his cock, dribbling down my chin as he moved. His groans mixed with my name and Harry's slow movement on my clit made the knots in my stomach start to form.

"You look so pretty with his cock in your mouth, Angel." Harry said, his finger still moving in slow circles on my clit, my moan vibrating against Niall's cock as he pushed it deep in my throat.

"An — fuck baby." He pulled out, ramming back into my mouth, holding my head tight so I couldn't pull away. I felt my legs start to tremble, Harry's teasing movements on my clit starting to become so overbearing I knew I was going to come again. I pushed against Niall, needing to gasp for air. He pulled out, a string of my saliva clinging onto his cock. I turned to look at Harry, his cock was in his hand, pumping up and down his length as his fingers moved on me.

"Har — Uh, Harry I'm going to come, please don't stop." I said, my head falling back as I felt my release happen. As I began coming, he began moving his fingers faster on me, moving quickly from side to side on my clit. I screamed out in pleasure, "Harry, please." I moved my hand down to grab his but Niall quickly stopped it, wrapping his hand around my wrist. He brought it over my head, grabbing the other and doing the same. He had placed his foot up on the couch behind my head. He leaned down and kissed me, his tongue finding mine as Harry's fingers kept moving quickly on my clit.

"We can't play the game if you interrupt, baby." He said against our kiss, my moans causing me to turn my head away. Niall pushed up, letting go of my hands and moving to palm at my breasts, pinching my nipples as he did. I couldn't find the end of my current high and the start of the new one Harry was causing.

"Oh, oh god...fuck that feels so good." I moaned, my back arching, my hands reaching up to grab Niall's cock in them, I moved them along his length, my palm running over his tip. I moved another to palm at his balls.

"Fucking hell Anna. Fuck." He groaned, pinching my nipples hard and tugging them up. I licked my lips, feeling my releasing coming again, Harry fingers moving quicker.

"Come for me angel, come for me" Harry said, Niall's groans lacing with my moans created the most beautiful sound in the living space we were in, "God, yours so fucking wet Anna, come all over me baby, make more of mess on me, come on be a good girl my sweet angel."

"Oh—fuck, fuck, fuck." I yelled out, my legs trying to squeeze shut as he made me come again, an orgasm like I had never felt before shot through my body. I didn't have a moment ride it out, to come down from it, because soon Niall was sitting me up.

He sat on the arm rest of the couch, pulling me up so that my legs were between his. He held my body up, so I was hovering over him. I felt him wasting no time, rubbing the tip of his cock against my opening. The thing about Niall was, his cock was not only big in length, but in girth as well. He began pushing himself in me, lowering me onto himself. I moaned out in pleasure, my hands gripping onto his thighs. I was so wet, I had no problem adjusting around him. He moved me up and down his cock, my hips rolling on him each time he lowered me down.

"Niall, you feel so good." I moaned, tossing my head back onto his shoulder, I turned my head, kissing at his neck, biting it causing him to groan. I could see Harry out of the corner of my eye moving towards us on the couch. He stopped right in front of us on his knees.

I watched as he lowered his head down, his tongue finding my clit, rolling circles on it as I rolled my hips on Niall's cock. In doing so I kept pushing against his tongue, my head pushing back further on Niall's shoulders, my moans escaping me as my hand reached down and tangled itself in Harry's hair. His bun had become loose and messy, and I wanted it completely out. I pulled his mouth off me, pulling him up so we could lock eyes, Niall beginning to thrust fast into me as I kept rolling my hips.

"Fu—Fuck, oh god yes Niall...fuck." I said, all while holding eye contact with Harry. He narrowed his eyes at me, reaching between my legs, moving his fingers roughly against my clit, causing screams to escape me.

"I thought it was a game?" I said, forcing the words out of me.

"Fuck the game," he said, moving his fingers on me faster, he moved his body closer to mine, kissing me deeply, his tongue messily moving on mine. I felt Niall yank my head back by the hair, moving my lips to his but this didn't stop Harry. He moved it kiss me as well, all of our lips moving against each others, Niall's cock thrusting deeper inside me, Harry's fingers slowing down against my clit only to speed up, rolling along it, moving side to side.

"Oh, god, fu—uck...please..." my moans were interrupted by Harry taking control and kissing me deeply, his tongue running along mine, as his fingers kept moving on me. I could feel ever single one of my muscles tense up. I was so close to my high. I gripped onto Niall's thighs so I could bounce on him. Moving up and down his length, squeezing against him as I did, causing him to groan.

"Fuck Anna, fuck baby." He said, thrusting up as I moved my body down, hitting right against my sweet spot, pushing me over the edge. I felt every muscle release, I felt my release all over him. I broke from my kiss with Harry, my head tossing back as I moaned out in pleasure. Harry's mouth moving to my tits, sucking them as I rode out my high on Niall's cock.

"Come 'ere." I heard Harry say, my head falling back straight as he pulled me off Niall. He quickly flipped me so I was laying on the couch, bringing my left leg over his shoulder. He held his cock in his hand, rubbing against my opening, his thumb on clit. He began to slip inside me, his eyebrows furrowing as he hissed.

"God damn it, Anna...uh.." he groaned as he slipped inside me, my hands gripping at his biceps as he did. I took him in, in a way I hadn't ever before. His bare skin, his tattoos, they way his muscles flexed as he pushed in and out of me. He was so god like it felt unfair. As he pushed further in me, he pushed my leg toward my body, my thigh pushing against my torso. He was slipping in so deep, I felt like I couldn't handle all of him.

"Fuck, Harry...don't stop." I moaned, my eyes locked on his as I felt him pick up his pace. I for a moment forgot Niall was there until he appeared over me.

"I hate how much you're enjoying this petal." He said, reaching down and choking me, "I hate his bloody name coming out of your mouth like that." He said, Harry snickering, moving quicker in me, his strokes felt long and hard. I knew he was getting off on making Niall jealous and it was turning me on more.

"But he feels so fucking good." I choked out, knowing I was only adding fuel to the fire. I let my eyes roll back, moans escaping me as Harry kissed along my calf as he fucked me.

Niall slid his hand up to my jaw, turning my face toward his, "Open that pretty mouth petal, let me see your tongue."

I did as he asked, my tongue sticking out for him as he spit on it, before shoving his length in my mouth. My tongue immediately smooth along him, gagging as he pushed himself deeper in me. He was holding my face, his hand under my chin, groan escaping him.

Both of them, were fucking me relentlessly, Niall giving me small breaks to catch my breath before is cock filled my mouth again. Harry's thumb teasing my clit, slow and fast circles on me. He would add more of his body weight on my leg, pushing it closer to my body allowing him deeper in me.

I moaned, gagging every time I did, I was going to come again, I couldn't fight it. I knew they both were close to. Harry's movements becoming sloppy, his moans more consistent. Niall was gripping at his balls as he kept fucking my mouth, muttering my name like he did just before he came.

We were all going to come undone together, the thought making me push my hips up to meet Harry's. Niall's hand moving over my tits, pinching hard at my nipples.

And then everything went still. Quiet. Both of them groaning, exhaling that breath they had take as they came, their release filling me one way or another. Niall pulled out of my mouth, his thumb pressing on my lower lip, as I squeezed against Harry, keeping him inside me. He whimpered at the feeling, gripping onto my hips.

"Swallow like a good girl." Niall said, and I nodded, closing my lips against his thumb, and swallowing his come. I licked my lips and he bent down, kissing me deeply as Harry pulled out of me slowly, both of us groaning at the sensation. I felt him place a small kiss on my clit, then my thighs, before removing himself from me. He pushed off the couch, walking around so he was behind my head, leaning down, and shoving Niall's face from mine. He kissed me deeply and soon Niall and him were fighting for my lips.

I chuckled, turning so neither of them could kiss me. I turned back and looked at both of them, a small smirk on my face. "I'll gladly play this game again."

"Right now?" Harry teased.

"You two couldn't keep up." I winked, both of them looking at each other then back at me.

"Try us." Niall smirked, before kissing me again.

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angelforstyles · 8 months ago

Text

Lonely (together)

Series

About a lonely 21 years old girl

With a lonely 27 years old man

He falls in love with her, watching her without her knowing until he makes a move.

* for smut

Warning:

Daddy/Mommy issues, childhood trauma, sexual contact, a lot of firsts (first kiss, first sex, ets), Daddy kink. And a lot of sex of all kinds and kinks.

Mentions once: murder, weapons, suicide, and fosters.

P.S. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there is any mistake. Thanks!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five *

Chapter Six *

Chapter Seven *

Chapter Eight *

Chapter Nine *

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siriuslystyle1989 · 10 months ago

Text

In Sickness and In Health

Harry styles x Sick!reader

warnings: Vomiting, sickness, fluff, non-sexual nudity

Masterlist

Tummy gurgling like a newborn baby, Y/n was quick to realise something was wrong. As nausea penetrated her senses she slowly began to feel her mouth water.

Dashing towards her and her husbands shared bathroom, Y/n felt the bile rise in her throat as she began coughing up her dinner.

She tried to be as quiet as possible as to not wake her sleeping husband but her efforts were in vain as she felt his calloused hands reaching up to her neck in an effort to hold her hair.

"its alright baby, let it all out." he spoke, his voice laced with sleep.

After about 5 minutes of pure sickness, Y/n slumped at the side of the toilet bowl, her head resting on the seat in exhaustion.

"You think you're done Angel?" Harry spoke while rubbing a comforting hand on her back. "You think you're ready to come back to bed?"

To this, Y/n couldn't even reply, too tired to even lift her head off the toilet seat.

"You gotta speak to me sweetheart, I need to know how to help you." Harry whispered so softy Y/n could cry.

He was always so good in situations like this. She had had boyfriends in the past that had been disgusted when she was ill. but not Harry. Never Harry. He was always attentive and caring, and made her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Even when she had vomit stained on her shirt.

Y/n whimpered slightly as she lifted her head up to look at Harry. He gave her a sympathetic smile and stated "There's my girl, you think you're okay to brush your teeth?"

Y/n gave a slight nod.

To this, Harry gently picked the girl up, cradling her head as if she was the most fragile thing he had ever held, and placed her on the bathroom counter to brush her teeth.

He then picked her up once more and placed her on their shared bed.

"Just sit there and look pretty while I get you some new pjs" he smiled, hunting through the wardrobe for her favourites.

Harry began to peel away her vomit stained pyjamas carefully, making sure to look in her eyes and nowhere else.

Once she was snug in her fresh pyjamas Harry tucked her into bed, however to Y/n's dismay he then began to walk away.

"don't leave me." she managed to blurt out, worried he was going to leave her alone to sleep.

"Jus' popping downstairs to get u some medicine my love, don't worry I'll come straight back."

And true to his word he did. At this point however, Y/n was already drifting off.

"Not yet love." Harry spoke, endearingly passing her two nausea pills and a glass of water. "Take these and then you can sleep I promise"

Harry then got into bed next to Y/n, careful not to touch her in worry of it causing her to feel ill again.

"Harry" Y/n muttered on the brink of collapse.

"yeah baby" he replied, looking at her in the darkness.

"please can you hold me?" She whined, just wanting to feel him close.

"of course love." Harry gently grabbed Y/n guiding her to his chest where he placed one arm on her head and the other around her waist.

snuggling her head deep into his neck, Y/n spoke once more "Thank you for always looking after me Harry."

"Of course my love, in sickness and in health."

A/N: His guys, this is my first fic on this account as my other account got deleted :(. If you could show this some love that would be great!! im also taking requests so if you want anything im totally happy to write whatever. hope u have an amazing day!!!

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #husband!harry #husbandrry #siriuslystyle1989 #hanwrites!#harry styles fluff #harry styles sick fic #harry styles x sick!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #lhh #one direction #liam payne #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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narrycherries · 4 months ago

Text

ivy: how’s one to know..

Harry is just an ass and she’s just a stranger.

masterlist // ivy series

word count: 8.6k

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, harry x fem oc, angst

[before you start: i edited this bc i ended up giving her name back to her, it’s no longer (y/n) but of course feel free to read it however you want and change the descriptors to whatever you prefer!]

The holiday season had wrapped up a handful of days ago and things were slowly starting to go back to normal. The sparkling strings of lights decorating neighborhoods and businesses all around the city were being taken down and shoved back in their storage boxes until the last month of the year circled around again. The weather was staying consistent, though. The gloomy overcast skies and chilly wind that whipped through the streets were enough to keep people bundled up and wishing for spring to arrive.

Most people she knew enjoyed the holidays a lot more than she did. Sure, she loved to see the colorful lights lining roofs and windows of boutiques and restaurants along the main strip. There was something so juvenile, so innocent about the giddy feeling that would fill her stomach as she saw a pile of fake presents and a decorated tree in a shop window. Somewhere deep down inside of her heart, she still had that spark that a child would have.

When she was growing up, she sought happiness during the holidays by admiring other people’s outdoor decorations or gazing in awe at the displays put up in her schools. She didn’t have what most people had that she went to school with, but she tried to be grateful, even as a young chlid, and appreciate what surrounded her.

A strong sadness was building in her chest as she slid the ceramic Santa Claus into his box to pack him away with the other Christmas decorations. She thought about the many years she questioned if Santa was real. There were so many nights when she’d squeeze her eyes shut and whisper out loud, her knees on the floor as she put her elbows into the mattress. There was so much hope in her. She believed that if she wished and prayed and dreamed enough, Santa would leave a present or two on the coffee table next to her dad’s stained coffee mug. There wasn’t a tree most of the years of her childhood, but her dad give gift her things (there was no magical Santa though). There were no twinkling lights outside of her window, hanging down from the roof with a clumsy droop. There were no ornaments to place on the branches of a fake tree, lined with a dusty skirt that would be covered with presents. There were no fresh baked cookies and steaming hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The television never displayed joyful Christmas movies and specials. The radio on the kitchen counter never once sang a tune of a wintery song about snow and ice. No, none of that. It was just her dad, her brother, and herself for a while.

“Did you keep the box for this guy?” Emma’s curious voice snapped her from her trance.

She cleared her throat and looked up from her spot on the living room rug. Her ‘new’ roommate was holding a ceramic snowman who’s decorated style matched the Santa she just put away. She reached into the plastic storage container and grabbed the box, passing it up to Emma.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, Ivy.” She smiled back, noticing that there was a glimmer of disappoint on her face, but she didn’t mention it to her. “You didn’t have to put everything away so fast. I would’ve been fine with it for a few more weeks.”

Emma had just moved in before Christmas. Her things were half way unpacked throughout the small house they now shared.

“I didn’t want it to crowd you. Besides, Christmas is over.” Ivy’s tone was partially rough as she began to pack away the miniature houses placed across the console table that the television hung above.

“I’m so excited to actually be here, like, full time. Niall’s a bit upset.. but I told him he’d survive.” She said with a laugh as she started to collect the small figurines that went with the village.

“I’m excited, too. I’m glad you’re actually up for decorating the space and not just.. letting me do it all. My last roommate was not particularly outgoing.” Ivy snickered at the thought, knowing she wouldn’t be missing that person at all. The girl was nice and all, but she was quite boring.

“Oh, totally! I’ve already got some stuff I want to show you in my room. Maybe we could put it out here or something.”

“I’m fine with anything as long as it’s cute.” She shot her friend a grin.

Emma wasn’t a new friend by any means. They met early on while they were both at university. Emma was actually her first partner for a project in one of their biology classes. They met on the third day of class and became friends very quickly. Their chemistry went far beyond the confines of the science lab. Emma was joyful and adventurous and offered Ivy that motivating spark to actually go out and have fun. Not that Ivy couldn’t match Emma’s energy once her veins were filled with alcohol, she just didn’t go out as much.

“Speaking of Niall, I haven’t seen him a while. How’s he doing?”

A proud smile crept to Emma’s lips. “He’s been good. But he’s been super busy with the store.. almost never get to spend time during the actual day with him.”

“But it’s going well, the store, I mean? Like he’s having success?”

Emma nodded. “It’s been great. I told him it would do good around here, especially with the college students. And besides, people are always looking for music lessons. I’m glad he took my advice and decided to offer those through the business.”

Niall was an excellent musician, or so Ivy has been told. She hadn’t actually seen him play anything in person, only through recordings and videos Emma had shown her. She knew Niall was talented, though. He played the guitar and the bass, both of which seemed entirely too complicated in Ivy’s mind. When they started dating last year, Niall was in the midst of finalizing a business plan and opening his music store. Emma told her all about it, including her fears and anxiety about the situation - but only because she was afraid Niall would get so caught up in the store that he would abandon their relationship. Niall ended up not doing that, obviously, and was able to balance everything in his life. He and Emma would be celebrating their one year anniversary on Valentine’s Day - which Ivy thought was particularly sweet and romantic.

“I’m glad everything’s working out.”

The store opened back in the summer, and Ivy had only gone by once to see the place. It was in a part of town she didn’t frequent very often, so the opportunity to casually stroll in was rare. It wasn’t like it was Emma’s store. While she did know Niall well enough to refer to him as a friend, she wasn’t close with him. She was supportive, of course, but not overly involved.

“He’s coming by later to help me put together the dresser. Well.. he’s going to do it for me, not help me.” She snickered as she joined Ivy on the floor to start gently laying the mini figurines in a small cardboard box they knew as home.

“I can make dinner if you’d like. Niall likes that pasta I make, right?”

“Yeah! He actually asked me about that a few weeks ago. He said I have to get your recipe.” She grinned back, rolling her eyes at the thought of her boyfriend’s obsession with food.

“He’s only had it like twice.. but it’s flattering to know I’m such a good chef.” Ivy laughed under her breath. “I’ll give you the recipe.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent on putting away the last of the decorations and moving them into the hallway closet. The box fit perfectly in the bottom of the closet. Emma disappeared into her room to continue unboxing her belongings. Ivy was mostly occupied with dusting the wood furniture and wiping down the kitchen. She liked a neat, tidy home and she was very glad to know that Emma did as well. She checked the cabinets to make sure she had the ingredients required for the pasta she’ll be making later on.

Every now and then, she’d hear a crash of something hitting the floor come from the hallway, presumably from Emma’s room. She would just giggle to herself as Emma’s dramatic cries of curses and sighs would fill the small home. Despite being friends for a handful of years, they had never lived in the same space before. Even while at university when it was mandatory for them to live on campus, they lived in different dorm buildings. Emma was in a sorority and definitely more comfortable with herself than Ivy was. She kept to her small dorm with her roommate, whom she didn’t have anything in common with but she was kind to her. If she were being honest, she thought Emma would try to move in with Niall once her old lease had expired. But, Niall was comfortable where he was in his apartment and he already had a roommate. As much as Emma wanted to live with him, it was just too soon anyway. They tossed around the idea, but Ivy mentioned to her that perhaps she needed to wait, just in case. Niall wasn’t upset with Emma’s decision to move elsewhere, as long as she was in the city close to him. Ivy was also informed that Niall’s roommate wasn’t too keen on letting someone else share their space. She had never met him before, didn’t even know his name, but she couldn’t blame them. She wouldn’t want her house to be permanently crowded either. Niall let Emma stay over there a lot, though, but spending the night for the weekend or on a random weekday when it was too late to drive back home was different than staying full time. And of course, Niall was allowed over whenever he wanted and she made that clear to Emma before she signed the lease. As long as he respected their home and didn’t leave a mess behind, he was welcomed.

A gentle sigh slipped past her thick lips as she trailed back to the living room. The open concept of the front of the home meant the living room was attached to the kitchen with no barrier other than the island. She sat down on the end of the couch, the damp kitchen towel she used to wipe down the furniture sat on the side table. She picked it up, along with the framed photo that was next to the pretty gold lamp. The gold of the frame didn’t quite match the lamp, but it was still beautiful to her. The ornate metal that decorated the frame was cold as she carefully rubbed the pads of her fingers over it. She stared at the photograph locked behind the glass, the speed of her heart beating increased only slightly.

The image was of her and her mother when she was around three years old. It was Halloween, she was dressed in a pink dress that was modeled after Princess Aurora, and her hair was curled and a little makeup playfully swept over her features. Her mother was dressed in a Cinderella themed costume, her matching golden blonde hair curled, too, and pinned up. It wasn’t the last holiday they spent together, but it was one of the only ones Ivy remembered. She doubted herself at times about the memory - she was only three and a half, did she actually remember it or was she imagining it? Despite always doubting herself, she knew too well that the memory was burned into her brain. She can remember the smell of the burning iron as her mom curled her hair. She remembers getting tickled by the fluffy makeup brush as a bit was applied to her face just to add to the illusion. She remembers the taste of the mini chocolate bar her mom unwrapped for her in the car in between neighborhoods - the night was full of trick or treating and giggles and squeals. She even remembered the way her mom’s hand carefully adjusted her curls when they got caught in the zip of Ivy’s costume. It was a memory she held dear to her heart, one she prayed she’d never lose. Ivy had always tried her hardest to find things to fill in the void of not having her mother around. But no matter how determined she was, nothing ever seemed to be enough. She found joy in little things, like collecting whatnots and trinkets that reminded her of the ones that littered her house when her mom was alive. She enjoyed searching for squirrels and birds in the park, collecting odd looking rocks during her walks, listening to her favorite songs on repeat, and a plethora of other things. But nothing could really fill the space in her heart.. It was quite a big space, after all.

That evening, after the sun nestled below the horizon and stars littered the dark winter sky, Emma invited Niall over for dinner. It was third day of actually staying here, since she opted to spend two weeks with Niall for Christmas between her parent’s place and his. Ivy was working on preparing the ingridents for the pasta when Niall knocked and was let in with a grinning Emma planting a kiss to his mouth. He laughed and brushed her off, not a big fan of showing affection in front of other people, even though he knew Ivy wasn’t watching.

“Hey, long time no see!” Niall said with a smile as he followed Emma into the kitchen.

Ivy’s eyes glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Niall. It’s been a while, yeah?”

“I think you guys haven’t seen each other since the day we moved my crap in.” Emma said with a slight unsure tone.

“Your crap that still isn’t unpacked.” Niall sighed as he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing on his chest.

Ivy chuckled to herself as Emma began to give him excuses for why her things weren’t put away and in their new spots yet. The list included things like being busy with work, having errands to run, and of course ‘spending all my time with you’ that made Niall smack his lips and give her a sarcastic ‘okay, sure’.

They kept up their banter for a bit while (Y/n) rinsed her hands at the sink. She had finished everything she needed to do before actually cooking the food. When she turned towards them, Niall was peering his eyes into the pot of boiling water, frowning as he saw it was empty.

“She’s making the pasta you said you like.” Emma said as she grabbed his forearm to tug him away from the oven.

“Oh, really? That stuff was so good.” Niall’s eyes shot to Ivy’s. “I want a whole pot of it for my birthday, please and thanks.”

She shook her head in disbelief as a laugh rolled out of her mouth. “Isn’t your birthday in September?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just don’t want ya to forget.”

“C’mon, let's start with the dresser, Niall. Let Ivy cook.” Emma said after checking the time on her phone. “We’ll clean up the kitchen after dinner, okay? Don’t worry about it!”

“Alright, that’s fine. I’ll let you know when it's done.”

And just like that, she was alone in the kitchen again. It didn’t bother her to be alone, she had been for most of her life, especially her late teenage and adult years. Finding something to occupy her bored mind was not a new task for her to learn. She opted for sitting at the small dining table after setting the timer on the oven in case she forgot to check the time.

Ivy pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants and started to maneuver through the notifications that had come through since she last checked. One was a message from a random company that was offering a sale this coming weekend, there were two texts from Niall - the first asking if he needed to bring anything, the second saying Emma told him not to and to just ignore the text - the rest were random notifications from different apps.

Her attention went to her photo app as she scrolled to a few days ago, just a day or so after the New Year began. She went for a walk in the park close by one day during lunch when she had nothing else to do. She snapped a few photos of little random things, like a wild flower that had somehow managed to survive the low temperature, a bird that was perched on top of the black metal fence that lined the park, and a snapshot of the sky with the clouds parting in such a way that made it look like heaven. After having lost so much in life, she learned and forced herself to appreciate the little things that were around. Details of daily life, like the fall of a leaf to the ground or the chirp of a bird in a tree, were almost therapeutic for her.

Dinner didn’t take too long to cook, but the dresser was seeming to take much longer than Emma had expected it to. When Ivy knocked on the bedroom door and stuck her head in, she grinned as she saw Niall sitting on the floor with his head thrown back and Emma pacing the room with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Her once neatly fixed dark hair was messily tied in a bun on the back of her head. The instruction booklet for the dresser was laid out in between Niall’s legs, along with a torn bag of hardwear.

“Food’s ready.” She said with a singsong voice that made Niall pop his head up.

“Finally.” He quickly rose to his feet and grabbed Emma’s wrist, tugging her behind him as they followed Ivy down the hall and towards the kitchen.

“Eat as much as you want, I made plenty.” She said as she let them make a bowl first.

“Don’t have to tell him twice.” Emma’s mouth shaped to a smile as Niall practically pushed her aside to be first.

“Guests eat first, right?” He joked as he gave them both a quick glance, a smirk on his face as he grabbed the serving utensil.

Once the three of them had fixed what they wanted and claimed a spot at the table, Ivy offered to grab everyone something to drink. Emma and herself chose a glass of ice water while Niall requested a Coke. Emma had just brought home a box this morning after her quick run to the grocery store. The food appeared to be a big hit as Niall scarfed it down, spitting out compliments and satisfied hums that made the girls giggle and roll their eyes jokingly at him.

“Em told me the store is doing great.”

Niall nodded as he sipped his drink. “Yeah, it’s been good, actually. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad you do the lessons. I told her that people are coming in pretty much all day long.” Emma said.

“Yeah, if it’s not someone who’s into music already or just curiously out shopping.. The sign about the lessons really brings people in. And even if they don’t go through with it, they end up looking around and finding something.” Niall told them with a pleased smile, he was relieved his business was staying crowded and people actually enjoyed coming to the store.

“Did you end up finding someone to teach the guitar lessons? I know Emma said something about you were looking for someone else, since you got so busy with your bookings.”

“Yeah, my roommate actually. He’s decent at guitar and he’s just working with the beginners. I’m sticking to the people who sorta know how to play around that just wanna get better.”

Ivy nodded as she took another bite. “That’s good.”

The cooking had made the kitchen a bit warmer than it was before, so she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. The exposure of the small tattoo on the inside of Ivy’s elbow caught Emma’s eye.

“Oh!” She chirped suddenly, making Niall flinch. “I forgot to tell you, Ivy, I’m getting a tattoo in a few weeks. Already got my appointment.”

“Oh, really? Where at this time?” Ivy asked with genuine curiosity.

“On my foot. Just a cute little flower. Niall says it's going to hurt.”

Ivy squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. “You don’t have any, do you?”

Niall chuckled. “No, but I’ve been told the foot is terrible.”

“I’m not a baby, Niall. It’s not my first one. Besides, Zayn said it would be fine since I’m used to the feeling.”

“Zayn is lying to you to spare your feelings and get your money. He is my friend, I think I'd know when he lies.” Niall was only teasing her, but it brought a flush to Emma’s cheeks.

“Shut up.” She mumbled through a pout.

Ivy was amused by their interaction, but she chose to move on with the conversation so Emma wouldn’t get too sensitive. She wasn’t over emotional or anything, but sometimes she would get embarrassed if Niall playfully taunted her in front of other people.

“Zayn.. is that the guy I met that time at the bar?” Ivy couldn’t remember the person’s name, but she was sort of sure that it was the same person they’re referring to.

Niall nodded to her. “Yeah. The one with all the tattoos.. I would say the one with the black hair but right now it’s platinum blonde.” The lift of Niall’s brows made her think that maybe he didn’t approve of the look, but he had no choice but to accept it.

“I thought that was the same guy. I’m pretty sure he told me he owned a shop.”

“He’s the best around.” Emma said with a laugh. “Plus.. he gives me a discount.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Niall puckered his lips and leaned her direction, demanding a kiss that he knew he wouldn’t get.

“Hush.” She pushed her fingers to his mouth and gently shoved his head back.

He laughed at her reaction. “Just saying, Em. He’s my friend.. like I said before.”

Emma ignored him and turned her eyes to Ivy. “Anyway, Niall can’t come with me.. so I was going to see if you wanted to go.”

“I can see if I can.. just let me know the date and time.”

“Alright. I will. Niall, don’t be a pig.” She groaned as she saw he had slipped from the table and was at the stove, piling his bowl full again.

“Let him eat it. That way we won’t have to worry about leftovers.”

Emma shook her head. “He’d eat the actual house if you’d let him.”

—•—

Ivy was puckering her lips in the mirror of the car visor as she applied her lip balm. It was chilly outside and the weather wasn’t being kind to her skin at all. She huffed as she saw the patch of dry skin right in the middle of her forehead. She had just applied her moisturizer before they loaded in the car to drive to the tattoo shop. Emma was driving, and every now and then she’d glance Ivy’s way and notice she was still staring in the mirror.

“What’s the matter?” She finally asked as Ivy slid the cover over the mirror and flipped the visor up, her back hitting the seat as she felt defeated.

“My skin is horrible right now.” She rolled her eyes to herself, upset that it was bothering her this much. It was just a bit of dry skin and chapped lips, she shouldn’t be so affected by it.. but she was. “Even my lips are dying.”

Emma smiled. “I’m sure lots of people are struggling right now. I’ve got a dry spot on my cheek. It’s been there for a few days. Just the weather.”

“But it's annoying. Y’know my hormones are whacky sometimes.. feel like as soon as I get it under control, I break out or have something like this happen.”

“When we get home, we can look up some different products. Maybe we can find something better for seasonal dryness. My cream isn’t working either.”

Ivy shrugged and took out her phone to mindlessly look through one of her social media apps. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Even though the shop wasn’t too far from where they lived, Emma didn’t want to walk in the cold and she didn’t want to have to cover the tattoo with thick, tight shoes afterwards. So, Ivy agreed to drive back after they left, and after they grabbed some food. The shop was right around the corner, and it caught Ivy’s attention as they turned onto the street. It was just off the main road of the downtown area. The street was lined with different restaurants, stores, thrifting spots, boutiques, and a few law firm offices and an emergency clinic that stayed open during the weekend. She was familiar with the area, and had actually looked towards the tattoo shop’s sign plenty of times. They pulled into a spot and Emma took in a deep breath before pulling the keys out.

“Are you nervous?” Ivy said with an amused grin plastered over her lips as she opened the car door.

“What if Niall’s right? What if it hurts real bad?”

“You’ll be fine. You got one on your ribs and your spine. You can take it.”

Emma was still nervous as she followed Ivy to the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, allowing Emma to slip into the building first. It was warm in the small lobby of the tattoo shop. She was unfamiliar with the specific shop, but not the reality of one. It looked like the others she had been to and the place she got her tattoos done at. The walls were dark grey and decorated with interesting pieces of artwork and posters. There were rock band posters, most of which she recognized, on the wall behind the dark wood desk that acted as a check in counter. Nobody was at the counter, though. There was a small sleek, black leather couch pressed against the side wall, above it hung a large canvas with what appeared to be an original artwork painted on to it. She saw the signature in the lower left corner and smiled as she read over the name she had heard Niall use a few weeks ago during dinner. So this Zayn character was more than just a tattoo artist? She was intrigued by the brush work on the canvas, the beauty of the image was breathtaking. The muted colors stood out oddly bold against the stark white and midnight black areas. It was nothing like she had ever seen before. Although she didn’t partake in any form of art herself, she was an admirer. She enjoyed frequenting art galleries and museums and contributing to artists as much as she could. She once got a commissioned painting of a bouquet of flowers from an older woman in the area who was a somewhat known artist. The piece lives on the wall near the hall closet.

“Zayn?” Emma called out suddenly as she grew impatient with standing in the middle of the lobby.

Ivy sighed to herself as Emma disappeared through a door. It lead to the main tattoo room, with three different stations placed in it. The back room was Zayn’s private room that his clients were able to be secluded in. Emma knocked on that closed door and waited patiently. A few moments later, Zayn opened the door with a smile, happy to see her.

“Hi, Em.” He said, his accent thick as it rang through the small building.

Ivy heard them chatting, so she decided to peek through the door, a nervous smile on her face. Zayn’s eyes caught hers as he towered over Emma. He offered a friendly wave and gestured for her to join them. She nervously stepped over the threshold and swallowed gently.

“Zayn, do you remember Ivy? You guys met a while back.” Emma said with a gesture of her hand as Ivy approached them.

Immediately, she recognized his features - from his dark eyes to his nearly fully inked arms. His tattooed sleeves wrapped over his shoulders, around his neck, crept over each wrist and wiggled around his fingers. He was covered, to say the least. She could only presume the rest of him looked like that. Colorful tattoos mixed with jet black ones littered his skin. And she noticed, of course, that his hair was blond now like Niall had mentioned.

“I think so, yeah. You’re the chick Niall said could outdrink me, right?” Zayn asked with a laugh.

“I don’t drink that much.. but yeah, that’s me.”

Emma gave her a nudge of her elbow. “She can out drink anyone when she actually lets loose.”

Her eyes rolled as a smile toyed on her lips, still slick from the lip balm. “Yeah yeah.”

“Let me get my chair cleaned off and you ladies can come back here.” Zayn said just as he grabbed the knob to his private room.

They heard something hit the floor and then a shuffle of shoes moving against the tile. Emma furrowed her brows and gave Zayn a curious look.

“Someone in there?”

“Yeah, I just finished a piece.”

He opened the door and went inside, shutting it behind him again. Ivy turned towards Emma and gave her a smile, unsure of what to do next. Emma grabbed her hand and nodded towards the open lobby door.

“We can wait in here.”

They returned to the lobby, where Ivy was easily distracted by the art on the walls again. There was a print of a skull near the door. It had flowers pouring over the crown of it, which then melted to puddles as they hit the imaginary ground. She thought it was interesting and quite cool. From what she could tell about Zayn’s vibe, it fit it well. The music playing from the speakers in the ceiling was loud enough to be heard but not too invasive. She could tell it was a curated playlist going, because the song that just begun seemed to be sung by the same person as the one before.

“Zayn just texted me.. he said we can come back.”

“I thought someone was-“ Ivy stopped speaking the second a body appeared in the doorway. “Oh.”

“Hey, Harry.” Emma said with a friendly tone as she stood up, motioning for Ivy to follow her.

“Hey, Emma.” The stranger replied with a quick lift of one corner of his mouth.

Ivy was slightly confused because it obviously appeared that the two knew each other. She had never heard Emma refer to anyone by the name of Harry, at least not that she could recall. She licked her lips and let her eyes fall down his tall, broad frame.

“What did you get?” Emma asked with her usual curious voice.

Ivy was listening, but she wasn’t paying that much attention. She couldn’t help but be taken aback by the appearance of the person in front of them. He was tall, much taller than Niall but probably close to Zayn’s height. He looked like a sky scraper standing in front of Emma and herself, both of which were shorter than average. His long, dark hair shaped into curls that were messily laying on his shoulders. He suddenly swept his hand through his roots the second she realized he had such long hair. The motion caused the lights above them to ricochet off the rings covering his fingers.

“This.” He said as he extended his right arm to them, well mainly to Emma.

There was a freshly inked snake curling around his forearm, each scale placed perfectly on his tanned skin. There were remenents of blood speckled across his skin, and a deep redness that hazed over the entire tattoo.

“Wow! That’s so good.” Emma beamed at the delicate work.

“Yeah, took two sessions. Zayn got a bit tired last time.” He smirked gently at the girl he knew, completely ignoring the one he didn’t.

“Well, it was cool seeing you! Are you headed home?”

He shook his head. “Gonna sit here for a while. I’ve got to be at the store in an hour to help Niall.”

She checked the time. “Yeah, he said he was the only one closing tonight.”

“Emma?” Zayn called from the back room, his head looking around the doorframe searching for her.

“Coming!” She hollered back, taking one last look at Harry’s freshly inked arm. “It was good seeing you. If you leave before I get out of here, I’ll see you later.”

Ivy didn’t even realize she was tracing her eyes over his body. His arms were like tree trunks, muscles taut under his skin and veins popping out, rolling around as he moved. His legs were tightly wrapped in a pair of dark jeans, she could tell through the fabric that they were toned as well. It wasn’t until he suddenly walked past her, not even sparing her a glance, that she realized she had been standing frozen.

Emma started towards the back room, Ivy in tow as she felt an embarrassed blush cover her cheeks. She didn’t know this Harry guy, but she hoped she wasn’t staring too hard at him. It definitely wasnt polite to just stare at a stranger, especially when she was blanking out. What if she was making a face at him? Something nasty, or something rude looking? She was unsure, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t seem bothered by anything as he took a spot on the couch.

Zayn’s office was just as she expected it to be. It was a deep shade of green, the walls coated in framed prints and a few smaller canvases of what she figured was his work. There was a small accent chair placed in the corner for guests. She sat down and started darting her eyes around the room. The type of work that Zayn had pinned to a board on the back wall caught her eye. He seemed to be good at everything, but most of it was bold color work or extremely detailed realism, sort of like the snake she saw on Harry’s arm moments ago. She wondered if Zayn had given himself any of his own tattoos or if he went to someone else. Surely, not every place on his body was accessible by his own hands, but maybe some of them were done by him. She felt like an amateur compared to him. She had a few tattoos placed on her body, but nothing quite as big or detailed as what she saw on the board or on Zayn’s skin.

“Ivy is your new house mate, right?” Zayn asked Emma as she got comfortable on the chair.

“Yeah. I moved in before Christmas.”

“But.. you’ve known each other for a while, right? I can’t exactly remember.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, since we were in college together.”

“Zayn.. do you mind if I look through this?” Ivy asked politely as she picked up the small binder off the console table next to the chair. A few figurines of characters she recognized, an hour glass with black sand, and a plant lived on the table as well.

“Of course not, that’s why it’s there.” He gave her a chuckle, but kept his response nice.

She opened the book and started to slowly flick through the pages. She saw his signature on the bottom of the designs. They were all so perfect. Some were executed with such detail and precision that she could've sworn they were fake, others were more loose drawn in a free handed style or just more whimsical in nature. She saw a sketch of a few bees on one of the pages. They were in black and grey, mostly realistic with subtle, soft shading and delicate lines. The drawing was pretty and neat. She glanced to the corner, searching for his signature, but she didn’t find it. Instead, in the corner opposite of where Zayn favored to sign his name was a small H. She hummed to herself, curious to know why Zayn had someone else’s drawing in his book. She quickly shook the thought out and reminded herself that there three other stations in the front. They were not abandoned by any means, she could tell people worked at them based on the different things displayed and the personal trinkets and objects adnoring the areas. Maybe this was one of his college’s work or maybe it was random.

For the most part, the book was filled with things Zayn did. Some of them were his own creations while others were common tattoo designs just drawn by his own hand instead of being pulled from the internet. She liked the way he had a bunch of his own things offered in styles that were more popular. He appeared to be a well versed artist with the talent to create just about anything.

As Zayn prepped Emma’s skin for her tattoo, he was talking to her about Niall’s store. He asked how it was going and if she had heard any horror stories yet of Niall messing up payroll or forgetting to stock an item. She only laughed and said she was surprised he was staying so calm and organized. Everything about the store was going more than according to plan, as at least as much as Ivy could tell from what she’s heard. She was still so happy for Niall. His hobby had turned into a passion and a business and he was able to share it with others, it was like a dream come true she bet.

“Alright, are y’ready?” Zayn said with a deep breath of his own as Emma grew more and more nervous in the chair.

“I think so.”

“You’ll do fine, Em.” Ivy encouraged from the corner, her eyes now focused on her friend.

“Just take some deep breaths. Tell me if it’s too much.” Zayn told her as he pulled the stencil paper off her foot. The flower wasn’t that big, but there were lots of tiny details that Zayn knew would probably hurt her more than anything else she’s gotten. “Just a tattoo.”

“If I cry, you can’t tell Niall. I told him I could handle this.” Emma mumbled out with a frown as she stared at her foot.

Zayn smiled and leaned back, the gun still buzzing in his hand. “Before I start, is it in the spot you want?”

“What do you think? Is it good?” She asked him, twisting her foot to a different pose.

“It’s not my foot, love.”

She groaned and looked over towards Ivy. “Can you check?”

Ivy laughed a little but nodded as she stood up. Just as she was about to step towards them, Emma called for someone else to take a peek at the design.

“Harry? Are you still in there?” Her voice echoed through the room, she hoped that it spilled into the lobby so he could hear her. After a few seconds, she grunted and pulled her phone out to shoot him a text. “I’m so nervous.”

“It looks fine to me.. but it’s your decision.” Zayn told her with a gentle sigh.

Ivy looked down at the placement of the tattoo, her arms behind her back with her hands locked. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

She gave Emma a hopeful smile before turning around. The door opened just as she moved her body, the stranger that wasn’t a stranger to anyone but her, walked in the room, chuckling as he saw Emma fanning her face, the heat swelling her skin with sweat and her eyes with tears - she was nervous.

“You always do this.” Zayn couldn’t resist laughing as Harry walked to them.

Ivy was back in her seat now, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waited for Emma to decide her fate. She could hear snickers coming from Zayn and Harry as they talked about the tattoo and Emma’s apparent hesitation that always came out when she was in Zayn’s chair.

“It’s fine, Emma.” Harry said, giving her a smile before looking to Zayn. “Make sure it hurts.”

“Harry, shut up!” Emma groaned and tried to kick at him. He laughed and took a step back. “You guys are bullies.”

“You’ll be alright, Em. It’s not like it's your first.” Zayn reminded her.

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever. Go ahead, then. Thanks, Harry.”

“Welcome.” He said lightly before disappearing out of the door again.

Ivy wondered why he didn’t stay in the room with them. Was he not interesting in hearing the painful grunts Emma would sure be letting out soon or watching Zayn draw his design perfected for Emma into her skin? Maybe he was tired of being near the tattoo gun since he spent however long getting his own. She pushed the thought aside entirely the moment she heard Emma groan, curses falling form her lips but not directly towards anyone.

Zayn leaned over her foot, his fingers pulling her skin tight as he worked the needle into it. It didn’t look like it was much fun, and Ivy became grateful that she had no intention of ever inking anything onto her foot.

—•—

There was a freshness in the air as she looked around Niall’s music store. It smelt like freshly picked lemons, probably because he had just sprayed down the counter before she came in following behind Emma. Niall was in one of his usual band tees and a pair of jeans as he sat on a stool with a guitar resting on his thigh. He was talking with a customer, comparing the similarities of two different guitar brands. Emma found herself busy with the items on the checkout counter - dropping loose pens back into their cup and adjusting the pile of papers Niall had pushed to the side.

Ivy stayed curious as she looked around the store. It was very easy to get caught up in the different items, especially since she had little to no idea what some of the accessories were for. Niall provided more than just items for guitars. She didn’t try to decipher every thing on the shelves, just simply moved her eyes across the packages, curiosity settling in her instead of blurting out questions to Niall. The girls came by to bring him some lunch before they did some grocery shopping for the week. Niall was appreciative, but he was unable to entertainment right away.

Emma smiled as the customer approached the counter, the one Niall had been chatting with. She stepped aside and let Niall take over the register. He had another employee here, but he was in the back room looking for a specific thing they needed to restock on one of the shelves. Ivy waited near by as Niall scanned the guitar music book the customer wanted to get and told him that he’d see him when he returned for the guitar - the customer hadn’t made his decision just yet.

When it was just the three of them at the counter, a few customers were lingering around the store just browsing, Niall gave them both a warm smile before wrapping his arms around Emma for a quick hug.

“Thanks for lunch. I’ll eat it when Josh gets off his break.” He said with a sigh, folding his arms and leaning them on the counter.

“The store is so nice, Niall.” Ivy complimented as she glanced around.

“Thanks.”

Emma walked from behind the counter to where Ivy was standing. She was about to ask her something about their plans for the day when her eyes fell on the few pieces of paper taped to the front edge of the counter. One was the refund policy, one was about the instrument lessons, and the other was new since the last time she was here.

“Oh, a flyer? That’s unusual.” Emma suddenly said as she pressed her finger against the pink dyed paper. “For the show?”

“The show?’’ Ivy asked with a drop of her brows as she read over the words printed in bold black letters.

“Yeah, Niall’s band. They play at a bar across town every couple of weeks.” Emma told her.

Ivy remembered as soon as she heard it. Emma had told her before, long ago when she first started dating Niall, that he was in a cover band. It wasn’t anything serious, not trying to search for record deals or gain stardom, it was just him and his friends having a good time. They got decent money for it, including tips from audiences, and it allowed them to play the instruments each member enjoyed. She wasn’t sure who was in the band as Emma never got to that detail before.

“Oh, right.” She nodded as the memory returned to her brain. “That’s cool.”

“Can’t believe Emma’s never brought you to a show.” Niall said with a somewhat surprised expression.

“I invited her a few times but she’s usually busy with work stuff.” Emma defended herself, even though there was no issue with it.

Ivy smiled at her and shrugged. “I remember you asking a couple times.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to attend if you’d like.” Niall offered as he pushed himself off the counter the moment the bell jingled above the entrance door.

He went to greet the customer, someone he actually was used to seeing come in the store, leaving the girls alone again.

“Yeah, it would be fun if you came! You could finally meet Alyssa. She’s usually just home with her and Zayn’s kid.. she doesn’t go out much anymore, but she loves the shows.” Emma exclaimed with a sparkle in her eye.

“I dunno.. when is it?” She asked, glancing at the flyer.

“Next Saturday night. It would be cool, Ivy! We haven’t went out since Halloween.”

The stress building up at work during the holidays definitely set her back from enjoying a lot of things, including several invitations from Emma to join her and Niall at a bar or go out for dinner with just the two of them. It truly felt like forever since she got to have fun with her friend. She thought about it for a moment, but only lifted her shoulder at the idea. The mention of meeting Zayn’s fiancé was intriguing since she had heard so much about her from Emma, but she doubted that would be enough to pull her out for the night.

“Maybe.. depends on how the week goes.”

Emma gave her a partial smile. “Okay. I really hope you can go with me.”

“Yeah, you should definitely come, Ivy.” Niall said as he appeared next to them, the customer gone to look for the item they asked him about.

Once again, she let out a small sigh and faked a smile for them. “I said I’ll see how the week goes, but no promises.”

He gave her a fake, dramatic frown. “C’mon! Live a little!”

“I live a lot.. at work.”

Emma grabbed her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll convince you before the week ends.”

“M’sure you will, Em.”

After spending a few more minutes talking to Niall, and then waiting in the car as he and Emma disappeared into his office to say a private goodbye, Ivy was ready to get the grocery shopping over with. The store they frequented was near by, so the drive was short and easy. It wasn’t close to their shared house, but the prices were better than anywhere else. Emma offered to take her car, so that left Ivy in the passenger seat with her eyes glued to whatever passed by the window.

“Are you okay, Ivy?” Emma asked as they strolled through the fruit section in search for the items on their list.

She gulped gently, distracting herself by collecting a few apples for the cart. “M’fine, just tired.”

Emma watched as she walked towards the basket of lemons and grabbed two, she’d need them for a receipe she was going to try later in the week. Ivy was normally not this quiet. She enjoyed the task of grabbing their groceries and checking things off their combined list while Emma pushed the cart and double checked everything. Something about doing such a mundane thing made her feel content and comfortable, even if they decided randomly to try a new store they’d never been in. But today was different, Emma was growing concerned with her unusually quiet friend.

“If you’re irritated with me and Niall pushing you about the show.. I’m sorry. You don’t have to go.” Emma said with a soft frown as Ivy returned to the cart with a handful of bananas.

She sat them down and lifted her hesitant gaze to meet her closest friend’s. “I’m fine, Emma. Just tired.”

She shook her head gently. “No, you’re too quiet. What’s wrong?”

“You and Niall didn’t bother me, I swear. The bar thing is.. whatever. I’ll think about it, I promise. It’s just.. one of those days.”

Emma wasn’t believing it all the way. Sure, maybe Ivy was being truthful about the role her and Niall played in her newfound mood, or didn’t play - but something else was up. She licked her lips and decided to stay quiet as Ivy busied herself with grabbing the rest of the fruits before moving onto the fresh vegetables.

Although she didn’t want to press it any further, Emma couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened at the music shop or on the way to the grocery store. Her worry was growing quickly and it wasn’t very long before she was asking another question.

“Ivy, please tell me. Are you alright?”

She received a sigh as a response, a couple of tomatoes and a bag of baby carrots joined the cart. “Emma, please.. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong with you. I don’t want to see you so down.”

Ivy walked towards the next section of the store, knowing that Emma would follow her with the cart no matter if they were talking or not. She held her breath as she thought about what was bothering her. She was too caught up with her racing mind to realize she was actually expressing her emotions on the outside. Emma noticed everything, so clearly she wasn't doing well at hiding it. There was no real issue, really, nothing that anyone caused by saying or doing anything. A lump slid down her throat, Emma was her friend - there was no need to keep anything from her.

Just as they turned down the aisle where the bread was, she stopped in her tracks and turned towards the cart, her hand reaching out to stop it. Emma froze, a lift of her brows offering confidence like a good friend should.

“The guy that walked through the door right before we left.. at Niall’s store..” She started with a strong voice, but it slowly faded to almost a whisper.

Emma nodded, encouraging her to continue. She looked down to the floor as the moment replayed in her memory. It wasn’t an unusual thing for her to experience, in fact it was more common than not. One little thing, one random glance from a passerby, one glimpse of someone with a similar shade of hair as her own, one note from a list of songs she knew were special..

“He reminded me of my brother. I.. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her response made Emma’s stomach turn to knots. She knew that the conversation was over then, and there wasn’t anything else she could try that would break Ivy. The forbidden topic had been brought up, and quickly dropped back to the vault she kept it locked away in. Emma didn’t mention it again..

[a/n: this is a series! It’s a lot longer per part than my other stuff so I hope you enjoy! This is just the intro so it will be more interesting and exciting as it goes on! reblog, like, do all that lovely stuff!!] ** I did change this from y/n to an actual character but feel free to read her name as whatever you’d like

taglist: (notified for all // if you want to join a taglist for this series, lmk in a comment or message and I’ll start one)

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden

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watermelonlovershigh · 2 years ago

Text

Each Harry Eras ... (You Can't Sleep Text Conversation)

AN: got the inspo to do this from tiktok. let me know if you think this is somewhat accurate or not.

This contains: mostly fluff, mentions of weed, implications of smut

{ fetus!harry - fratboy!harry - prince!harry - longhaired!harry - dunkirk!harry - fineline!harry - loveontour!harry - boyfriend!harry - fiancé!harry - husband!harry }

How each Harry era would react to when you tell them you can't sleep, through text.

{Fetus Harry - boyfriend!harry}

Y/N: baby i can't sleep : (

Harry: i'm sorry. snuggle with the stuffed bear i bought you last week and try and pretend i'm there to cuddle you in person. love and miss you :(

Y/N: ok i will. see you soon?

Harry: yep. my mum said i can come over tomorrow after my shift at the bakery. i'll even bring you that fancy bread you like.

Y/N: oh yes, please do. ok going to try and sleep now.

Harry: night.

{Frat Boy Harry - boyfriend!harry}

Y/N: H, i can't sleep. 😭

Harry: awe baby, i wish i was there to cuddle with you. we're on tour until the end of the month and then i get to come home for a few weeks.

Y/N: i wish it was sooner. 😔 you always give me the best cuddles when i can't sleep.

Harry: i know baby. try and spray some of my cologne on your pillow and maybe that'll help. love you. gtg. they're calling us back on stage now.

Y/N: ok. and have a great show.

{Prince Harry - boyfriend!harry}

Y/N: harry i can't sleep tonight. i miss you loads and wish you were here with me.

Harry: i'm sorry you can't fall asleep, love. you know i wish more than anything i was with you right now. breaks my heart when you can't sleep and then complain of how tired you are the next day. how about you take one of my t-shirts from my drawer and sleep with it on. i think that will help.

Y/N: ok i will.

Harry: send me a photo of you in the shirt you choose. wanna see how sexy you look in my clothes.

Y/N: k

Y/N: *photo* *standing in front of the mirror wearing his white t-shirt with the band Kiss on the front*

Harry: holy fuck. you look amazing babe. well sleep tight. i gotta take care of some business now.

(by business he didn't mean meetings. seeing you in his shirt did things to him and he needed to, you know, jerk one out.)

{LHH - boyfriend!harry}

Y/N: H, i can't sleep tonight.

Harry: sorry to hear that. i know what can help. go to my special drawer and get some 🌿 to smoke. i know that stuff always makes you sleepy.

Y/N: ok, are you sure though? what if i have a bad reaction?

Harry: yes i'm sure. and you won't. just take a few hits. not too much. then get cozy in my bed. should knock you right out. but if you need anything just call me. i'll answer, alright.

Y/N: ok, yeah. i'll do that.

Harry: and you remember how to set up the blunt right?

Y/N: yes harry. i'm not 5.

Harry: okayyy, was just making sure. night. love you.

{Dunkirk Harry - fiancée!harry}

Y/N: harry i can't fall asleep.

Harry: awe baby, sorry to hear that. did you take your prescribed sleep pills?

Y/N: yes like 2 hours ago. and they're not working tonight.

Harry: i tell you what, give me about 10 minutes and i'll sneak away to facetime you. would you like that? i could sing you to sleep. you pick the song.

Y/N: omg please. and i pick sweet creature. your voice is so soft and relaxing when you sing that song.

Harry: ok 10 minutes, hang on darling.

{Fine Line Harry - husband!harry}

Y/N: babe, i can't fall asleep for the life of me. wish you were here to help. 😭

Harry: i wish i was there too, baby.

Harry: i know what will do the trick. touch yourself, love.

Y/N: WHAT?

Harry: i'm not messing about. touch that pretty pussy of yours. you know when you orgasm you get all sleepy. and i would touch you myself if i were there but since i'm not your hand will just have to do. or your vibrator. whatever you choose.

Y/N: fine... but, can you at least get me going.

Harry: sure 😏 *photo of his erect cock standing tall and proud with his ringed hand wrapped around the base*

Y/N: fuck. are you touching yourself too?

Harry: yep. couldn't not after picturing you rubbing that little clit of yours. got me going instantly.

{Love on Tour Harry - husband!harry}

Y/N: i can't sleep :(

Harry: why are you texting me this? i'm just getting out the shower. in OUR house. i'll be in there in just a second.

Y/N: didn't feel like yelling it to you.

Harry: let me brush my teeth and i'll come put you to sleep.

Y/N: mhm, yeah, how?

Harry: oh, i'll show you how alright. better be naked when i walk in.

Y/N: bet.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe14 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithharry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @stylesmygucci // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

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avocadoguru · 2 years ago

Text

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. (wolfrry, werewolf!harry, alpha!harry, ranger!y/n)

Lupus Noctis- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

Chapter 10 / alternatively, read on wattpad

Chapter 11 (word count: 8k) -updated July 3rd

Harry had never cared less about appearing vulnerable to someone else. The amount of times Niall had seen him cry and cling to Y/N whilst whispering sweet nothings into her ear was well out of his comfort zone. But it didn’t even occur to him to mind.

It was like no one else existed.

Y/N was all that mattered. Her frail state that he could barely look at the first two days. Niall had told him not to, but he’d climbed next to her in the hospital bed. When he realized his friend was worried for his own injuries and that it would not affect his human, he completely disregarded his admonishments.

And Harry was aware that Niall had saved his life. He was lucky for such a friend as him and he would tell Niall as much once he got his mind in the right place. Once his human was up and talking and smiling again. But until then, he would sit by her side and talk to her, holding her hand and caressing her face, petting her hair.

His own wounds would heal. He was okay but in pain, as his body had lost an almost fatal amount of blood. But he wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t worried about himself. He could endure the pain, the healing. He could endure the aftermath, his anger.

He’d not made his friend’s job easy. Niall had had to operate on him right there, next to Y/N, because he simply would not leave her sight. At Niall’s practice in the city, he set up two beds. One for Harry and one for Y/N. Lester helped aid him as much he could because time was of the essence with Harry. He was aware Y/N was too far gone to save but he did what he could in order to clean her up and close the wounds. Keeping her stable only prolonged the inevitable but Niall wouldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try. He knew it was of no use but he could stop her bleeding and get her to safety. That was all he could really offer.

For Harry, though. He was strong and could heal. He’d lost too much blood but he was a werewolf and his body would repair itself at a rate a human’s body would never be able to. So he cleaned and stitched, and stapled Harry’s wounds and broke him the news about his human.

“No. She’s still alive. That means something. She’s not gone.”

“Harry…” Niall spoke softly and slowly knowing his friend had to hear the truth as awful as it was, “She’s not going to recover. I just want you to be prepared for this. Currently, her heart is still pumping but it’s getting weaker as the hours pass. Her lungs aren’t working and we’ve connected her to a ventilator so she can breathe but that just means her body is unable to function properly.”

He refused to believe she was dying. He was looking right at her, leaning over her body, his hands grasping her limp ones. She was only asleep. She was only unconscious and her body needed time. Just a little more time.

Niall went home every night to sleep in his own bed but he stayed with Harry as long as possible and he always returned the following morning with food for his friend.

He was worried about Harry. Not because of his injury, but because he wasn’t sure if Harry would be okay when Y/N’s body finally gave up. He was sure Harry would lose it. He was worried he’d go and get himself killed. The muttered words, “If she doesn’t come back to me I’m going to kill every fucking person that was involved,” told him as much. Niall was worried he’d lose his best friend.

The more time went on, the more desperate Harry became. While at first he’d just sat next to her bed, he’d ended up crawled next to her by the crack of dawn. If he barely could take in the sight of her at first, he was now scanning every inch of her as if to memorize her better. Barely daring to talk to her at first, he was now whispering right in her ear. Not for fear of being overheard. Again, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about how he appeared to Niall, Lester, or any of the nurses who came in during the night to check on Y/N. But as to be as gentle as possible with her, as to not startle her in her slumber, for he knew she was only asleep.

He did hope she could hear him. Because he had a lot he wanted to tell her. Things he was desperate to get out, for fear he maybe wouldn’t get the chance to later on.

It wasn’t ideal, this wasn’t how he wanted this to happen. But he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “My love, please come back to me,” he murmured in her ear, not for the first time, not for the last time. “Please, I want to look into your pretty eyes again. Wish I’d told you how much I love your eyes before. I get so lost inside your eyes. Would you believe it? Or would you scoff and look away, thinking I was taking the piss? I don’t think you ever knew how far gone I was. I never showed you what you do to me. Not just my body, but my heart. Was too afraid to. Like a fucking coward. I wish I could take it back, wish I could show you just how much you’ve meant to me all along. Wish I could’ve seen your eyes when I first told you I loved you, no, when I sobbed it, when Niall brought us in and finally left us alone after he poked at my injuries for what felt like hours. It’s not that I didn’t want him to hear, hell, I’ll shout it from the rooftops. Mountain tops. I’ll howl it to the moon. I just… I wanted your ears to hear it first. I love you. You’re my mate. I’ve known from the start. I wish I could’ve told you. I wish there’d been a better way. Wish I’d been braver. Anything. Anything but this. Anything but you in this bed. Anything but you so weak and in pain, and–”

Harry buried his face in the crook of her neck and allowed himself to sob once more. He’d not cried since he was an infant, as children do, but he could physically feel his heart breaking. It was unbearable. If he held onto her tight enough, she couldn’t leave him. Right?

“Everyone left. My parents. My brother. Don’t leave me too. Not when I finally found you. Not when you finally know. Not when I know that… you love me too… I know you do. Tell me you do, Y/N. Please. Please open those pretty eyes, and move those pouty lips and tell me. I swear I’ll not want for anything ever again. And if you don’t… That’s… that’s ok, too,” he sniffled, pulling away a bit and wiping his tears away from her skin. “Just wake up. If I’m wrong, and you don’t want to see me again, if… if seeing me was too much, is too much… I swear I’ll understand. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll get lost forever if that’s what you want. Just please… wake up. Please.”

On the morning of day three, Niall came in with bagels and fruit. And it was no surprise when he saw Harry sitting next to her in bed. After assessing the scene and finding that Y/N was still alive he greeted Harry, “Hey, morning.”

Harry turned to look at his friend and ticked his head in a nod before bringing his full attention back to Y/N as he continued speaking in whispers to her. Private confessions. Promises. Declarations. Apologies. Supplications. The sort of things one whispers to a loved one on their deathbed.

“Got bagels and some spreads. Some bananas and melon too. It’ll be over here if you’d like any,” Nialll placed the food on the table he’d been using to eat on next to the window.

Harry was a little hungry. He hadn’t eaten all that much in the few days since the fight. He hadn’t really been that hungry. But his body was healing well and now it was asking for some sustenance.

Lifting his head he turned to face Niall, “Yeah. I think I’ll eat,” he stood from his chair and walked to the table selecting his bagel and a packet of butter as Niall watched him closely, “What?”

“Just… I’m glad you’re eating first thing. That’s good news. You’re healing well I think-”

“I don’t give a fuck about me. I know I’m fine. That makes all this so much worse!” He gestured around the room.

Niall nodded, “Yeah. I know. I just mean, for me. You know? You’re my friend. I’m just glad, is all.”

Harry was chewing into the bagel as he nodded, keeping his eyes on his friend. Swallowing down his bite he looked across the room to Y/N then back to Niall, “You’re a great friend, Niall.”

Harry took his usual quick nap once he’d finished eating the bagel. He would stay up all night with his eyes on his mate to watch for anything. He refused to sleep since Niall wasn’t there to check on her. He couldn’t risk being asleep if anything happened to her and no one else could watch over her, even with an overnight nurse present in the practice in the doctor’s absence.

Niall hoped against hope that, somehow, she would wake up. That she would be okay so that his friend would also be okay. He knew it was just about impossible, but if she didn’t wake up Harry would get himself killed by trying to avenge her.

After the last patient had left and Niall was shutting everything down he heard Harry calling for him. Niall took a deep breath, imagining the worst as he turned into the room the pair were in.

But it was the opposite of what Niall had thought. The patient monitor was showing a stronger heartbeat and slightly higher blood pressure. He scratched his head as he looked at the vitals on the screen and immediately pulled his stethoscope over his ears and held her wrist as he placed the chest piece over her heart to check the stats for himself.

He looked up at Harry who had an expectant, hopeful expression on his face.

But Niall was confused. How? He double-checked her heart rate and swallowed, “I… She’s getting stronger. But I don’t know what this means. Um, I should stay the night. We can take shifts-”

“No. You can sleep if you need to. I’m gonna stay right here with her,” Harry spoke as he looked over his human and took her hand into his, “You’re doing so good, Y/N.”

Niall put on a pot of coffee and continued monitoring her as Harry stayed by her side. But the night didn’t change her status. She still had a stronger heartbeat and that was good. But no improvements were notable by the time Niall laid down to shut his eyes for a bit. His friend was glued to Y/N’s side.

After Niall had fallen asleep Harry paced the room a bit. His nerves were getting to him. She’d gotten stronger suddenly and Niall was surprised by that. The not knowing what was to come was hard. Harry was used to being in situations where he could pretty well foresee the outcome because he was the one calling the shots. But this was different. Y/N’s life hung in the balance and he had no way of forcing his hand in this. It was up to fate. To chance.

When the sun slowly drizzled into the room, golden first light hues scattered over her face as Harry sat by her side. Even asleep she was beautiful. Even with a tube in her throat. With a bandage on her neck, scratches on her face.

“Good morning, Y/N. Sun’s up. Where are you? Are you coming back today, my love?”

Seconds after Harry whispered his words the patient monitor sounded with an alarm and Harry stood up quickly to see what had caused it. Rapidly increased heart rate.

Niall was quick to jump out of bed and take over but before he could pick up his stethoscope she moved. Her neck turned and her brow furrowed and Harry inhaled a sharp breath as he watched his mate come back to life.

Quickly snapping on his gloves, Niall carefully pulled the tube from her throat, “She’s breathing. Respiratory waveform is active. I may need to reintubate but she’s breathing!”

Harry didn’t know what Niall was talking about but he didn’t care. It was all good news to him. She was moving and wincing as the tube was pulled out. Once it was tossed to the side Y/N began to cough and her scratched throat and trachea sounded like she had laryngitis but Harry was smiling and his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Y/N!” He pulled her hand into his and squeezed as she slowly blinked her eyes open. When her vision cleared and Harry came into sight she startled and yanked her arm away from him, eyes wide and looking around the room.

The smile fell from Harry’s face at her reaction to him but figured that was deserved. He was just happy she was with him. She was awake. She was alive.

Niall quickly adjusted the settings on the monitor so the alarms would stop and then he looked her over, “Y/N. You’re in my clinic right now. You’re recovering from an injury. Do you know who I am?”

She tried using her vocal cords but winced and coughed, “It’s okay. You don’t need to use your voice right now. You had a tube in your throat and you’ll be a bit sore and uncomfortable for a bit. Just nod or shake your head to answer.”

She nodded slowly and scrunched her face in pain.

“She’s hurting, Niall!” Harry spoke quickly. Her little body was in pain. He could tell.

Niall pulled an IV and inserted the appropriate amount of narcotic to put into her bloodstream to ease her pain, “I know, Harry. One thing at a time, man. She’s just becoming conscious.”

Harry could feel warm tears begin to fill his eyes and blur his vision but now that she was breathing, and looking around the room, he didn’t want her to see him falling apart. Now that she was back he knew he needed to stay strong for her. He quickly exited the room so he could let himself feel the sadness and joy heave from his body. He leaned into the wall and tilted his head back to look upward as he clutched over his pounding heart causing the tears to drip into his ears and on his neck.

If Harry didn’t need Niall he’d have strangled him then and there when he re-entered the room after collecting himself and seeing Y/N was back asleep.

“I had to sedate her! She was in too much pain!”

Harry kept it together upon hearing that. “But she will wake up again. Right?!”

“Absolutely. She’s… I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but she’s on the mend. She’s getting better. It’s only uphill from here, man. Listen, I know you wanted to talk to her… but she was struggling, I could tell. Another round of IVs and she should wake up way smoother next time. Plus, she’s breathing all on her own! Look!”

And Harry was looking. He’d not taken his eyes off of her. Niall had better been right about this, otherwise he’d never forgive himself the mistake of stepping out for the brief moment she was awake. But he didn’t want her to see him fall apart like that. He needed to be strong for her. Needed to reassure her. Brighten her up.

He hoped he hadn’t missed his shot.

Niall decided to sleep at the practice again that night, knowing Y/N would probably wake up and he wanted to be there to give her proper medical care and make sure Harry didn’t accidentally smother her back into a coma. He kept that thought to himself, along with his other suspicions regarding her sudden, and quite miraculous recovery, at that.

Instead, he tried distracting his friend who seemed even more impatient for her to wake up than before, “She’s a fighter, your Y/N.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at that, ungluing his eyes from her frame. He sat on a chair on the side of her bed when Niall was in the room, mostly so he could prod at her freely.

Niall was very pleased with her vitals. She was almost fully recovered, judging by all her stats. The bloodwork had come back almost impeccable. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was a scientific miracle. It kind of was, in a way. But Harry wasn’t questioning it at all. Maybe to him it didn’t seem like such a miracle, with all the pleading he’d been doing for her to get better, it was like all his prayers had been answered. He didn’t have the medical knowledge to grasp the uniqueness of the situation.

“She always has been, you know. Brave little thing.” He told Harry how she had gone looking for him that night and found Niall at his apartment and how he knew she didn’t buy his story about taking over the lease. He’d called Lester the very next morning to tell him that Y/N was concerned about Harry being missing and Lester told him that she was in danger and he was on his way. Lester knew not to trust Harry’s pack. He knew something wasn’t right. He’d been around long enough to know what was what in that world.

“And then Lester said that as he was leaving the house and saying goodbye to Alma, Edward growled and pounced on him to get him to wait and that’s when he shifted back. No one expected it but it happened. So Lester, Alma, and Edward all made the trip together because Edward wanted to help. Then I tried calling her and texting her so I could warn her but by then it was too late. And that’s when I found her apartment door open and her purse left behind.”

Y/N had been smart to go searching for Harry. If she hadn't, Niall might have not known he was missing because it wouldn’t be uncommon for Harry and Niall to go a week or two without talking. And both she and Harry might be dead at that moment if not for Lester and Niall’s intervention.

Lester’s sway amongst the leaders of the packs was wide-reaching. He threatened to call on reinforcements if Harry’s pack didn’t offer a trial (which they weren’t going to at first). So, as grim as the current outcome had been, it would have been worse if Niall and Lester weren’t there to help.

But it had all started with Y/N. She’d been worried about him, even mad that he’d gone missing, again.

Eventually, Niall left the room to nap in his office and Harry was once more alone with his little human. Knowing she was definitely going to wake up again now made him focus on how he was going to fix this mess. He wasn’t foolishly assuming she’d forgive him and want him back, even though he did know that she loved him too. He’d seen it in her eyes when he was about to fight that scumbag for his life.

Be that as it may, he knew that didn’t equate to her wanting him in her life necessarily. What she’d witnessed was hard to accept. What he’d kept from her was hard to come to terms with. And she was fragile now. She needed space, he knew. But he wasn’t going to leave her out of his sight no matter how much she opposed it. He was going to bring her back home and assure her he would give her space, the space she needed to figure things out whilst recovering safely.

He didn’t trust her alone at her own place. Sure, he’d earned their freedom from the pack but there were still loose ends he needed to trim. Like Irina. Harry hadn’t forgotten about her and her complicity in all of this. She was going to have to pay, too. But that was for later. For now, he was focusing on Y/N and her safety, and he didn’t trust his former pack, especially Irina, not to try and get to them again. They were conniving, double-crossing fiends, and even after earning his freedom fair and square he was still expecting some sort of retaliation.

His plan was for them to move away for good as soon as she made a full recovery. Granted she still wanted him, of course. He had no plan for the eventuality that she would kick him to the curb. He couldn’t even ponder that option.

But Lester’s offer was all the more appealing now. And he knew she loved it there on his farm too. Maybe that could be their new home. Anywhere she wanted. As long as they were together.

Just then, he felt her stir, and he climbed off the bed gently and sat on the chair next to her bed. He didn’t want to suffocate her with his proximity. Didn’t want to give her the impression that he was assuming anything. But he still held her hand, he just couldn’t let go. He didn’t need the monitor to feel her heartbeat pick up and know she was waking up, and he saw Niall approach from the corner of his eye, his watch alerting him of the changes on the monitor.

“She might be a little woozy ‘cause of the higher dose of painkillers I gave her. So don’t worry about that.”

Harry nodded and squeezed her hand in his gently, “Y/N? Are you awake, kitten? C’mon. Open those pretty eyes for us.”

And open them she did. Fluttering eyelashes gave way for her lovely irises in which Harry had feared he’d never see his reflection again.

Both men smiled widely at her compliancy and Niall brought a tall tumbler of water to her lips, “Need to lubricate your throat a bit, Y/N; have a sip, please?”

She looked up at him and gave the faintest of nods, and he took it as his cue to hold the straw steady as she puckered her lips around it and began drinking out of the glass slowly. She winced at first, taking the first few gulps, her throat sore no doubt, but she finished the glass in its entirety which prompted Harry to squeeze her hand once more and coo, “Good girl.”

Her heart rate picked up a bit at that and Niall gave him a sly smile, but Harry was too enthralled watching his little human to notice. She rested her head back against the pillow, the strain in her neck keeping her head up getting to her. Niall fluffed the sides of her pillows a bit to give her even more support and smiled at her, “You’re doing so well, Y/N. You’re recovering beautifully. Would you mind trying to talk to us a bit? I know it’s a bit uncomfortable and your throat must still be sore, but I know someone is dying to hear your voice again.”

Harry kicked his friend in the ankle at that. He had no business putting that kind of pressure on her and Niall got the message loud and clear, but she seemed to miss the interaction altogether and opened up her mouth to try and get some words out. “How…” she frowned at the sound of her own groggy voice, and tried clearing her throat but it came out the same, “How long was I…?”

“A few days. Nothing major. Don’t worry about that. You’ve made a full recovery, so nothing to worry about whatsoever! You still have some scarring that will fade but I guarantee there will be no marks left to tell for them. And of course, you need to build your strength back, but at the pace you’re going, you should be on your feet as soon as tomorrow!”

Harry shot up his eyebrows to Niall’s statement as he watched him prod at her further, making her follow a small light he fished out of his breast pocket and then asking her more questions to assess her reflexes and awareness. Wasn’t that a bit too optimistic? He’d never heard of anyone making such a speedy recovery waking up from a coma. He didn’t want Niall to create false expectations for her.

“In fact, I’m discharging you today!”

Y/N was just as surprised as Harry to hear that she was going to be ok to leave so soon. She had no idea how long she’d been out of it exactly, but she disliked hospitals as much as the next person, so she was glad for it.

“Now… I know this is a sensitive subject, so I’m going to step out and leave you two to it, but I’m going to have to need you to tell me if you want me to send over a nurse to look after you for a day or two at home, or if you’re comfortable with nurse Harry over here,” Niall nudged over to his friend. “There’s really nothing special he needs to do, just make sure you take your meds on time and keep an eye on you, make sure you make no sudden movements, make sure you hydrate and feed yourself properly, you’re still going to need to sleep as much as possible so it’s easy to lose track of all that yourself.”

Y/N made to say something but stammered, trailing off and Niall took it as his cue to leave the room, but not before praising her for her recovery again, “You’re doing great, Y/N. I’m so happy to see you on the mend. Had us worried for a moment there, but you’re a fighter.”

Harry watched his friend close the door behind him and then turned back to look at his little human and found her eyes already on him. He was still holding her hand, running his thumb over her skin in soft strokes all along, and he took one more look at the sight of her small hand in his before he removed himself in order to give her the space she needed to make the decision.

He looked back at her then and his heart soared at the sight. He didn’t know whether it was the drugs she was on, but the brazen look in her eyes and the way she didn’t shy away from his as she sometimes did had his own heart pounding against his ribcage. For the first time ever, he didn’t know how to approach her. She intimidated him. A feeling so foreign to him. He didn’t think anyone had ever made him look away, stare him down to the point where he had to break eye contact. Surely it was the guilt he felt, he reasoned.

“Are you alright?” she whispered as to not strain her vocal cords. Her voice sounded more like her old self when she did that, she found.

Again, Harry felt his heartbeat pick up at her concern for him. “I am now. How are you feeling? Are you hurting?”

She shook her head slightly, “I feel fine. It’s like I just woke up from a deep sleep. But I remember the pain…” she winced at the thought, and Harry made to grab her hand in his again but stopped himself just short of.

Instead, she stretched her arm ever so slightly and grazed his hand with the back of her fingers. Both of them watched intently as their fingers intertwined. Harry couldn’t fight the urge to raise their conjoined hands to his lips and kiss hers. “I was so afraid I’d lost you,” he murmured against her soft skin, his brows furrowed and eyes shut tightly.

She understood all the different meanings to his statement and wanted to say the same. But she needed more time. She needed to clear her head a bit. But she also needed him, that she knew for sure. She didn’t want to go home without him. Not after she thought she was going to lose him, herself. No. She wanted him near. “So take me home, nurse Harry.”

Y/N felt exhausted by the time Harry had brought her back to his house. He’d carried her all the way, to and from his car, and she could’ve sworn she felt his heart threatening to break free from his chest as she laid her head atop of it, in his arms. She’d never seen him drive that slow, avoiding every little pothole just so she could be as comfortable as possible for the small journey to his house. She knew they needed to talk and clear the air, but she didn’t have the energy for it quite yet. She was happy he was alive, and she allowed herself to bask in that feeling.

She’d asked him to run her a bath, the sponge baths the nurses had been apparently giving her had left her sufficiently clean but she felt like she needed to really soak and preferably wash her hair too. Harry wasn’t too sure about that, though. He wanted to give her space, but this could be too dangerous for her still weakened state. He didn’t want to push it and suggest he get into the tub with her, but he told her he’d be standing by the whole time and wash her hair for her, and she agreed to it.

He tried looking away when she undressed, and he even helped her to an extent, but then he reasoned he needed to assess how her bruising and scarring was developing. He was pleasantly surprised to see her skin was barely tainted.

And Y/N was very aware of his eyes on her, on the way his blood quickened in his veins, could almost guarantee he’d stiffened in his pants at the sight of her bare body before him, but she couldn’t act on it as much as her own body was responding to their closeness. She needed time. Her body needed time, too, not just her heart and her mind.

He helped her climb into the tub and sink into the perfectly warm water and Harry sat on the floor next to it and leaned on the margin, looking at her through bubbles, content to have her safe in his presence. Content to know she wasn’t in any pain. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky. It seemed like a miracle that she was awake, let alone able to do all this so rapidly.

But he didn’t want to tell her how close he’d been to losing her. Didn’t want to tell her how worried Niall had been and adamant she wasn’t going to wake up. Didn’t want to tell her that he’d been prepping himself for losing her for good, telling her all he had weighing heavy on his heart.

They sat in silence, and it was perfect. She was there. She was alive and well. And she’d not told him to get lost. His heart was hopeful.

Eventually, he helped her wash her hair, sitting on the edge of the tub behind her. He was extra gentle, and she hummed deeply at how good it must’ve felt. He was happy he could make her feel better, in any way.

And later, when she let him dress her in one of his shirts to bed, his heart soared. He wanted so badly to kiss her, just a soft peck. Just to be close, and communicate how he felt. But he wouldn’t push it. Her hair was still damp but the look in her eyes had gone soft and hazy, and he knew her energy was running low. He gave her her meds and helped her in bed, and then stood there stupidly, unsure what to do.

“Are you not tired?”

He nodded. He was exhausted. He’d barely slept for all those days, and he was still recuperating himself from fatal injuries. Of course, being a werewolf, his recovery was expedited, but he still felt weak. Above his physical injuries though was his mental exhaustion. He’d worried so much for her that he was now feeling it all catch up to him.

“Will you hold me, then? I know you’re injured, too, so only if–”

She didn’t even have time to finish that sentence before Harry was undressing and climbing into bed behind her. He’d kept his boxers on- again, boundaries. But he tentatively reached for her soft body and pulled her into his chest, holding her to him.

Her own hands grabbed on to his arm and she nuzzled closer against him as he spooned her, “I just know I couldn’t fall asleep without your scent all around me,” she mumbled, already so close to falling asleep.

He’d not had time to shower himself that day, so hopefully it wasn’t off-putting for her. But he’d get that done in the morning. As well as cook for them, his appetite was growing now that all was well in the world again. And, well, he’d have to do something about the erection he was trying to keep from pressing into her. He was determined to give her the space she needed and that meant keeping his urges at bay.

He was so happy she was in his arms, he felt like crying from happiness. It was hard refraining from smothering her in his affections when she was right there, pressed against his chest.

“Oh…” she gasped softly. “Is that… are you purring?”

Harry froze and immediately stopped, “‘m sorry, thought you’d fallen asleep…”

“No, no. Don’t stop. I like it. Please keep doing it?”

Harry didn’t even have to force himself to, just hearing her asking him to purr had him doing so naturally. It felt incredible to be able to do so freely, after having to hide it from her for so long. His natural reaction to her proximity when he felt happy and warm and fuzzy.

She giggled. Harry smiled widely at the feel of her trembling in delight in his arms, and it spurred him further, tightening his arms around her a bit more, still careful not to harm her in any way though. “This feels amazing…” she trailed off, drifting into unconsciousness. Harry agreed wholeheartedly.

Harry had woken her up at around 6am to give her her meds, then before she could drift back to sleep he told her he’d be stepping out very briefly in the morning to restock their fridge so he could cook something for them, as promised, making a point out of how he’d be back before she’d even wake up but in case she needed anything, anything at all, she was to call him ASAP.

But she was feeling fine, in fact, she’d used the bathroom before going back to sleep all on her own, no need for him to help her to the ensuite, she was just very tired still.

So when she woke up later, she didn’t really need to go downstairs and check to know that Harry was not back yet. In fact, he’d probably just left since his scent was still lingering pretty heavily around her. Plus she couldn’t smell any cooking taking place.

Still, just to be sure, she got out of bed and decided to go inspect. She was feeling… surprisingly fresh and reinvigorated. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up so well-rested. She couldn’t believe she’d suffered any injuries, she was feeling fine. More than fine.

Strange.

But she wasn’t gonna complain about it. She did feel hungry though, so she was hoping Harry would be back soon from grocery shopping and she was determined to convince him to let her help. She had a burst of energy and couldn’t imagine being made to lay in bed for one more day.

She still felt like this house had way too many rooms. Was way too big. Who needed all this space?! She liked it, she really did, but she much preferred the cosiness of her own home. That was probably what was wrong with it, this just felt like a house, not like a home.

It hadn’t been lived in all that long, to be sure. But still. Passing by a spare guest room she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

She furrowed her brows, following the overwhelming scent she was picking up on, coming from that room.

She’d expected it to be a laundry room with the kind of scent she was picking up on, but there were no hampers lying around the room. It all smelled of brand new furniture, except for one specific chest of drawers.

Approaching it, she reluctantly opened up the uppermost drawer, on a whim.

Her eyes rounded in shock. She gingerly picked one of the several pairs of panties. Not just any panties, but her very own. Her very own used panties.

She dropped them back and took a step back, incredulous laughter escaping her lips that she then covered, still in shock. “...Holy shit!”

Maybe she should’ve found it repulsive, she reasoned, but to her dismay she found this was turning her on for some reason. She didn’t know what it was about her discovery, but it awakened something in her, something very… primal.

But she didn’t really have time to contemplate this when she heard the faint sound of a car door. The huge, semi furnished house must’ve had quite the echo if she could hear him out front when she was on the other side of the house entirely.

Nonetheless, she decided to bring it up later, use it to her advantage somehow, the idea sending a thrill through her body.

For now, she needed to eat. She was truly ravenous.

She made her way into the kitchen, just in time for Harry to emerge with the groceries. He was being very careful and quiet in his movements, but she noticed him rush to the kitchen after he’d entered the house, almost as if he knew she’d be there.

“What are you doing here!?”

She shrugged, “Waiting for you. I’m hungry, you said you’d be quick.”

Harry didn’t know whether to be annoyed or glad. He was happy she was feeling good enough to get out of bed, happy she was hungry, but he’d told her to take it easy. “I told you to call if you needed something!”

“Why? I knew you were probably on your way back, and I don’t exactly need anything. But you’re letting me help.”

Harry placed the groceries on the island, taking her in. She was quite sassy all of a sudden. Again, there was something about the way she was looking at him. Something was just… different. Like she was challenging him, more than before. She was never the meek and obedient kind, and that’s one of the things he liked about her, but now… she’d amped it up a notch. Or two.

And he liked it.

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “Are we making eggs benedict?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, his lips quirking up in a smile. “I am. You’re gonna wait on the couch all snuggled up.”

Y/N frowned, “But I’m tired of lying around! How long was I even out for, I feel like my muscles need a good stretch! Could we go for a swim later? Besides, you went for a jog yourself, don’t be selfish!”

Harry was taking all of this in, trying to process what she was saying. He wasn’t all that familiar with human recovery, but this sounded out of the ordinary, even to him.

“It was just a quick run before I headed out. I’ll have to check with Niall and see if he approves. He told me to make sure you take it easy.”

“Yeah, nurse Harry, I remember. But surely swimming isn’t too strenuous… I just wanna stretch my limbs a bit.”

Harry had a different idea as to how he could help her with that but he kept it to himself. For now. Especially with how he was certain he could smell hints of arousal on her. But he knew he couldn’t dream of pursuing that idea until they had a serious talk about what had happened. And he was waiting for her to initiate that conversation. For now, he had to burn off his pent-up energy by doing things out of character, like jogging. He would’ve skipped it had he known she’d be up so soon. For as long as he’d known her, Y/N had never been a morning person. And now especially, she should’ve been still in bed, recovering. But it was barely 9am and here she was, giving him lip that early in the morning.

“I just don’t know where,” she mumbled while she started unpacking the groceries. “Can’t exactly go back to the preserve…”

Harry furrowed his brows even deeper watching her unpack the groceries. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all. “How did you know I was planning on eggs benedict?”

Y/N shrugged, “Guess I had a hunch? Oh, crap. The hollandaise is dripping!”

Harry approached her side to inspect the jar, luckily not much had dribbled down the side of it, “Yeah, I opened it up to check if it was any good otherwise I’d have had to make it from scratch. The lid must’ve unscrewed on the way here…”

Part of him wondered if she’d smelled the sauce, and that’s what had given it away, but there was no way she could smell that tiny bit that had dribbled out of the jar. He could smell it now, of course, being as close as he was to the opened bag, but had he been able to get a whiff of it earlier he’d have secured the lid in place.

Y/N was having a hard time with him so close to her. He smelled delicious, all manly after his jog. She felt like burying her nose into his neck and forgetting all about breakfast. Suddenly she had a different appetite that needed sating. And then there was the tiny detail about him collecting her discarded panties…

No sooner did she finish even thinking about that, that Harry pulled away as if electrocuted and she watched him take a few tentative steps back. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered I’m long overdue a shower, I must reek. I’ll be quick, please don’t start without me, alright? Turn on the TV or something, sit.”

She rolled her eyes and watched him rush for the staircase. Fine. She’d wait.

Harry had not allowed himself any reprieve since this whole nightmare had started. The first good night’s sleep he’d gotten was that very night, with Y/N safe and sound in his arms, in his bed. The jog earlier that morning was meant to help him blow off some steam, but Y/N’s proximity was making it very hard for him to ignore his urges, especially when he most definitely smelled hints of arousal on her.

He was determined to keep it in check for her sake, and aside from the fact that he really did need to shower, quite desperately so, he was also going to jerk off to clear his head a bit.

He came way too fast, and very hard since he’d not released in over a week. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone so long without. Probably not since he’d first masturbated as a teenager, which was saying something. But it left him unsatisfied. He needed more. He huffed his frustration but then heard a loud knock on the ensuite door. He turned the shower off so he could hear her properly, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“You tell me! It sounded like you were in pain, are you alright?!” a very distraught Y/N could be heard from the other side. Harry frowned. Surely he hadn’t been that loud when he came. And the water should’ve muffled it.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” He quickly grabbed a towel, placing it around his hips and holding it together in his fist as he emerged from the ensuite, taking in the distressed look on her face.

But her look of distress quickly morphed into something else. He could visibly see her eyes darken as she unashamedly scanned him head to toe, her hungry gaze following the path the water droplets were making on their way down his body.

She took a step closer, then, to his surprise. He was already hardening again just taking in her own body’s response to his. And Harry definitely noticed the way her eyes widened when they reached the way he was tenting his towel, even held snug around his hips as it was.

And he could definitely smell her arousal, too. She must’ve been dripping with how potent it was. Harry was in limbo, frozen in place waiting for her to do something, anything. He knew she desperately wanted him, just as much as he wanted her, but he wasn’t going to push her. Not when he knew there was so much to–

His throat went dry immediately when her eyes traveled back up to meet his. Her eyes. It couldn’t be…

“I, uh, I forgot something in the car! Be right back!” he stammered, clutching his towel tightly as he made his way downstairs in a rush, all wet and slippery on the marble floor.

He not only went outside, but surpassed his car parked out front, and instead circled the property all the way to the furthermost corner of the expansive garden. He’d made sure to grab his phone first from the kitchen island where he’d left it, and dialed Niall’s number as soon as he was as far away from the house as he could get, given his state of undress.

An amused voice sounded from the other end when Niall finally picked up, “So… did you figure it out, yet?”

Chapter 12

A/N: (@fkinavocado and @gurugirl here) What do you think this all means for Harry & Y/N? Did you vote correctly?

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justmeinatree · 2 years ago

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Just A Little Taste

Summary : harry plays into your pain kink in a way you never could have imagined (feat. lhh)

TW : smut, reader pain kink, dom/sub dynamics, safe word use

Word Count : 2.1k

the handcuffs clink against the metal head board to your bed, harry’s nails scratching down the backside of your naked thighs.

your hands were currently cuffed together, the chain on the handcuffs looped through one of the intricate iron bars that adorned your bed. your head was pressed into the mattress, arms stretched above it, your bum high in the air.

you loved nights like this. where you could both just play. there was no time constraint, which meant harry took his sweet time with you. on nights like these, you’d both slip further into your roles, allowing yourselves to really let go and be all in.

there was no denying it, you were fairly submissive long before you’d ever met harry. but you never had the opportunity to connect with a partner that was considered even remotely dominant. you’d never been with someone that had the experience harry had, and all the new firsts your body had just been patiently waiting for, made your toes curl.

and well harry did not complain, could barely keep his cock in his pants, when you looked at him with those doe eyes. he saw the need in you from a mile away. so when you two hooked up that night, he gave you a small taste of what he could do for you. always checking in for consent along the way. you had never been so blown away by a man in your entire life.

and so safe. especially the time he explained that even though he’s in the dominant role, you, the submissive, holds all the power. you’re the one that sets the scene. you’re the one that holds the safe word card. he gets pleasure out of your pleasure. the moment it stops being good for you, it stops being good for him. you’d never been so reassured by a partner in your entire life. and as someone with a pain kink, reassured is what you needed.

so that brings you here. with harry’s nails slowly raking up and down your thighs, your bum, your back. all the way up your arms, giving himself the opportunity to kiss against your ear and neck, sucking little bruises into your skin. your body shudders as his hair tickles along your skin, making harry nip playfully on your shoulder, “should i tie it up ?” he hums quietly, not wanting to disrupt the quiet moment you’re both basking in.

you manage a bit of a shrug, as best as you can in the position you’re in, “s’up to you. just tickles a bit.”

harry leans back into his kneeled position behind you, nails raking down your back as he goes to grasp the hair tie around his wrist. holding it up with two fingers, he gets an idea, gently letting it snap back against his skin.

he hums quietly to himself, pulling the hair tie off his body and holds it taught between his index and his thumb. “do you trust me, poppet ?” harry asks quietly.

“always,” you hum without a second thought as harry places the tie against the back of your thigh, right where it meets your ass. he pulls on it, not too far, as he’s just testing your reaction, and lets it snap back against your skin.

your body jolts instantly, eyebrows furrowing as you groan, “fuck, what is that ?”

“a hair tie,” harry mumbles, mesmerized by the way your skin rippled as the tie kissed your skin. “colour, baby.”

“green, try that again. harder,” you hum, settling yourself deeper into the bed. you had loved the little jolt it sent through you, the way it made your toes curl and your breath drain itself from your lungs.

harry moves his hand with the tie up your body, right to the swell of your ass. he pulls the band up quite a bit higher than last time, watching the jiggle of your skin as the tie slaps against your bum.

you moan out louder this time, your back arching, as your pussy clenches over nothing. without another second to breathe, harry snaps the tie again 3 more times right around the same spot.

you gasp in a breath as his left hand comes to smooth over the spot, his tongue reaching out to lick at the bright red bruise forming on your skin. “colour ?”

“green, green, fuck harry, why’s a hair tie so good ?” you groan, slightly embarrassed by how much the sting is getting you off.

and if you needed a moment to fall in love with him just that little bit more, his reply holding no hint of shame towards you, “fuck i dont know, but you look so good taking it poppet. want more ?”

“please, please, please,” you breathe out. “never want you stop.”

harry smiles at that, although you cant really see him, bringing his right hand, with the tie, over to your left bum cheek, a little lower towards your thigh, and closer to your dripping center. he pulls it back further this time, snapping 5 consecutive times.

your body trembles as he finishes, his tongue darting out to soothe you again. he laps over the fresh wound softly, kissing over your skin.

he’s so close to your pussy, you can feel a few stray strands of hair tickling you, making your body involuntarily lean towards his mouth.

harry pulls away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly, “m’trying to make you feel better and here you are being greedy.”

“no, no, i’m sorry honey, your mouth just feels so good, you know how hard it is for me to resist you,” you add, silently praying that he just goes with it.

“stop sucking up,” he chuckles lightly, taking note of your pussy for the first time in a while. and christ, you really are wet. like really wet. dripping down onto the bed, wet. and for a moment harry feels bad. like he’s neglected your poor cunt. it’s desperately screaming for attention. as he goes to run his fingers through your sopping center, he notices the hair tie still wrapped around his thumb and index.

“wanna try something,” harry mumbles without a second though.

he runs his hands from your hips, down your thighs to your knees, giving you a silent signal to lay down flat on your tummy. as you do what he asks of you, harry helps you turn over, onto your back.

“hi poppet,” he smiles at you, leaning over you to kiss your lips, something he hasn’t done since he tied you on your front.

you smile into the very welcomed kiss, having missed the comfort of his lips on yours. you slip your tongue into his mouth when he goes to speak, cutting him off before the first syllable even leaves him. you tug on the cuffs, wishing you could grip into his hair and keep his lips attached to yours.

but harry pulls away, shaking his head playfully as his index gently flicks your nose. “be good, poppet. wanna try something. think you’ll like it, but you’ll tell me if you dont, yeah ?”

“i will,” you hum, smiling at him. you wholeheartedly trust him, and your toes curl in anticipation, your tummy flipping with curiosity as you anxiously await to see what he’s got planned.

you watch as harry sits back on his knees, your legs on either side of his hips. his hands massage their way over your thighs, working their way inwards as he grips into your flesh, spreading your legs wide open for him. with any other partner, you would have been mortified right now. but not even a speck of that feeling exists with harry.

his eyes rake over your inner thighs, seeing the mess your cunt has made. his gaze settles around mid thigh, the hair tie coming back into play and snapping against your sensitive skin.

your hips jolt, harry’s hands keeping your legs open before shifting to your other thigh, snapping the band a bit higher. each snap makes your body tremble more as he keeps up the alternating pattern, making his way higher and higher up your thighs.

harry watches as your pussy clenches with each snap, a dribble of your arousal leaking every time, as your hips jump up in search of any kind of friction. his prick is so rock hard, absolutely dying to bury himself inside you. but he needs to try this first. needs to see how you’ll react.

he places the tie taught between his fingers, just higher up than your clit, over your mound, wanting to test the waters out first. harry watches over your face, seeing a bit of apprehension, “s’just me, baby. i’ve got you. can stop anytime. give me a colour, please.”

and as anxious as you were, you were so excited, “green. just do it, please,” you groaned, the anticipation killing you.

harry snaps the band, not too hard, really not wanting to push you. he hears the loud moan leaving your chest, your stomach twitching. he places it a bit lower, right above your clit, “m’gonna need your colour again, poppet.”

“fuck, fuck, it’s green. can go harder,” you whimper, your nails digging painfully into your palms, waiting for it to smack against your most sensitive spot.

when the band hits against your clit, not too much harder than last time, harry notices a small trickle of liquid running down your cunt. “no fucking way,” he whispers to himself, eyebrows furrowed, your ears ringing much too loudly to hear him.

harry snaps the tie two times consecutively, a little harder again, as a bit more than a trickle escapes you this time.

he can’t believe what he’s seeing, completely mesmerized by your heat, a groan from deep in his throat works its way out of him. without giving you much time to catch a breath, harry snaps it again, much harder this time, as a gush squirts out of your cunt.

“jesus fuck, poppet,” harry groans, dropping down to the bed, throwing the hair tie onto the bed, his mouth colliding with your sensitive pussy.

your body is trembling from the attack on your clit, not having a moment to breathe before harry delved in to suck harshly on your abused cunt.

you feel a bit disoriented, tugging hard on the restraints, needing to feel anchored to him somehow. “fuck, fuck harry, yellow,” you plead out, his ears perking up as he hears one of your safe words.

harry pulls away from you, his hands massaging your inner thighs, “what do you need honey, talk to me ?” he asks quietly, not wanting to overwhelm you. a yellow means slow down, and check in. he hopes this doesn’t turn into a red, that’s not exactly the way he hopes his cock goes soft tonight.

“untie me, please,” you groan, tugging on the cuffs for good measure.

harry nods without a second thought, reaching for the key on the nightstand and taking them off you, letting them clang to the floor. he holds your wrists gently in his hands, kissing the bruises left in the wake of your restraints.

“were they hurting ?” he asks, his hands gliding up your arms, settling on your back as he looks into your eyes, wanting to really see how you’re feeling.

“no, just a bit overwhelmed. needed to feel you,” you hum, your fingers running through harry’s locks, grabbing a good handful, “you can keep going anytime,” you smirk, adding cheekily.

he groans at the feeling of your hands tugging on his hair. as much as he loves seeing you tied up, the lack of touches torture him a bit too. “lesson for ya poppet, dont ever sass the mouth that’s snogging with your cunt.”

“i would, but your mouth is giving me a lecture, s’not snogging anything,” you challenge back, smirk growing wider.

harry laughs, kissing your nose, “cant be mad at that. did you need me to slow down, love ? how has it been so far ? wanna check in completely, after that yellow.”

“maybe a bit slower,” you hum, rubbing your nose against his. “we have tons of time, yeah ?” you pause to kiss him, your lips slotting with his, sucking sweetly on the swell of his lip. “s’been really good so far, just really needed the cuffs off. needed to be able to feel closer to you after that.”

harry nods, totally understanding, delving back into your mouth, taking his time with you. reminding himself that tonight there’s really no need to rush, thankful for the odd occasion where time doesn’t exist.

“so, how many times should i make you cum then, poppet ?”

……

Masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles writings #harry styles masterlist #one direction #lhh #writings #justmeinatree #long hair harry

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lemoncrushh · 1 year ago

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The Entertainer - Story Page

Summary: Set in the 70s, Sky Jones, a young woman from L.A., meets Harry Styles, an up-and-coming musician and frontman for the band Wildfire. Told in first person from Sky's point of view, she shares her journey and what it's like to fall for a rockstar.

Author's Note: This was originally written and posted way back in 2017. An oldie, but I'm finally getting around to finishing the sequel. I figured before I start reposting that, you need the original story. Hopefully there are some newer fans/readers who haven't read this one yet. A ten-part series, each chapter acts as a track from an album. Within each chapter, there will be song lyrics. Be sure to check the bottom of each part to get a list of the songs included. It makes for a great soundtrack, like a movie. This story is very special to me, and I hope you enjoy. Inspired by the song "The Entertainer" by Billy Joel.

I am the entertainer And I know just where I stand Another serenader And another long haired band Today I am your champion I may have won your hearts But I know the game, you’ll forget my name And I won’t be here in another year If I don’t stay on the charts

Reposting daily! Links will be updated as I post.

Track 01 - You Have a Great Collection

Track 02 - Looks Like Rain

Track 03 - Pick a Memory

Track 04 - Pajamas & The Holiday Inn

Track 05 - It's Always Been About the Music

Track 06 - No Concern of Yours

Track 07 - Let's Hit The Road

Track 08 - I Don't Wanna Be Alone

Track 09 - Make Some Beautiful Music

Track 10 - Let's Make the Most of It

The Playlist

Another note: Though this story does include some sex, I would not consider this smutty at all, just in case that's what you're looking for. The sequel, however, will contain a lot so...lol...it's your call.

I do require that you be at least 18 to read my fics though.

MASTERLIST

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 1 year ago

Text

Too Sweet

CW: Smut

Word Count: 3,887

Nights like these were what Charlotte lived for. She reveled in the excitement of going out with friends, hitting up bars and clubs, and indulging in the thrill of hooking up with strangers. It wasn't something she actively sought out, but once she was in the midst of it all, she couldn't resist. The pulsating energy of the alcohol coursing through her veins, mixed with the throbbing beats of the music, sent her senses into a frenzy. It was a wild and intoxicating experience that she couldn't get enough of.

As she weaved her way through the throng of people, her body brushed against others and she felt the warmth of their skin. The smell of sweat and alcohol mixed in the air, creating a heady atmosphere. But she didn't mind - in fact, she relished the closeness and connection with strangers that this crowded space provided. Finally reaching the bar, she scanned the crowd for her friends but they were nowhere to be seen. Just moments ago, she had caught glimpses of their familiar faces among the sea of strangers, but now they seemed to have vanished into thin air.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Charlotte pulled out her phone and unlocked it, tapping furiously at the screen to open the Girly Girl Group chat. The small group of her closest friends had created the chat to keep their conversations contained and private. "Hey," she quickly typed out, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of her thoughts. "Where did you all go? I can't find you anywhere." After what felt like an eternity, her hand buzzed in response, signaling a new message from one of her friends. "Em got sick," it read, "we're taking her home. We totally forgot to find you before we left." Charlotte let out a sigh of frustration as she read the message, wishing she had been there to help take care of her friend.

The bar was unusually quiet and Charlotte easily made her way through the sparse crowd to the counter. Despite the emptiness, a few seats were still available, including two to her left. She fervently hoped that no one would choose to sit next to her; she longed for a night of solitude after being unable to let loose with her friends. The air in the bar was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, mingled with the faint aroma of cologne and perfume. Dim lights cast a warm glow over the dark wood furnishings and the low murmur of conversations created a cozy atmosphere. Charlotte relished in this moment of peace, sipping her drink and taking in the sights and sounds around her.

She scanned the room, her gaze lingering on each person before finally landing on a man sitting directly across the bar. He appeared to be in his early twenties, his features chiseled and strong. He held a glass in his hand, swirling the liquid inside before bringing it to his lips for a small sip. As he placed the glass back on the counter, he caught her eye with his piercing green gaze. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

His hair cascaded down to his broad shoulders in loose waves, each strand catching the light and reflecting shades of a chocolatey brown. She couldn't make out the intricate designs, but she could see glimpses of colorful tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeves of his plain button down shirt. The fabric hung ever so slightly oversized on his frame, adding to his rugged yet effortlessly cool appearance. A pair of sleek sunglasses dangled from the edge of his shirt pocket, completing the picture of a confident and strikingly handsome man before her. He was a beautiful sight to behold.

As she drifted deeper into her thoughts, the bartender's voice broke through Charlotte's trance. "Hey, can I get you anything else?" She glanced up at him, her eyes taking in his rugged features and easy smile. "Yeah. Um, can I have another rum and coke? And could you also order me another of whatever the man across from me is having?" Her gaze shifted to the man in question.

The bartender nodded knowingly and smirked. "For him?" He turned his head and pointed towards the man. "That's Harry. He's an old-time regular around here. Travels a lot so I don't get to see him often. But let me tell you something, he never pays for his drinks." A mischievous sparkle lit up his eyes as he leaned in closer. "If you catch my drift."

Charlotte caught it all too well. In just a few words, the bartender had conveyed that her idea of buying this man, Harry, a drink was far from original and most likely wouldn't lead to any kind of connection with him. She sighed inwardly but thanked the bartender anyway before turning back to her drink, disappointed but not entirely surprised by his revelation.

She observed him expertly crafting their drinks, his hands moving with a fluid grace as he added just the right amount of each ingredient. Her drink was placed in front of her spot at the bar, and then he walked over to Harry and placed his drink down, explaining that it was bought for him by her. Harry nodded, got up, and left. Charlotte's heart skipped a beat. Was buying the drink too forward? Did she make him angry? But before she could dwell on it any longer, he returned, not to his original spot but to the one next to her. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. This was what she had hoped for, but after the bartender's warning about Harry receiving drinks all the time, she didn't expect it to actually happen.

Harry leaned casually against the bar, his gaze fixed on Charlotte. "Well, aren't you just full of surprises?" he drawled, taking a sip of his drink.

Charlotte couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she countered playfully.

"Oh, it's definitely a good thing," Harry replied, his voice low and confident. "I'm Harry, by the way." He extended a hand towards her.

She took his hand in hers, her fingers lightly brushing against his skin as they shook. "Charlotte," she murmured softly. "It's nice to meet you, Harry."

"The pleasure is all mine," he said with a grin. "So what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"Well," Charlotte began hesitantly, not sure how much to reveal about herself so early on in their conversation. "I came with friends, one of them got sick and they all left without me, so here I am."

"Must be your lucky day then," Harry quipped back, winking at her cheekily. "Because I happen to be here too."

Charlotte couldn't help but chuckle at his boldness. "I guess it is my lucky day," she replied, matching his playful tone.

Harry couldn't help but smirk at Charlotte's response. He liked a woman who could give as good as she got, and from the way she seemed to be enjoying their playful banter, it was clear that she knew how to have a good time. "So tell me, Charlotte," he said leaning in closer to her, "what do you do when you're not getting drinks for strangers or being left behind by friends?"

"Well," she began, tilting her head to the side curiously, "when I'm not stuck here with you, that is," she added with a playful smirk of her own, "I actually work for a travel magazine."

"Really?" Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And what exactly does that entail? Traveling the world and writing about it?"

"Something like that," Charlotte replied with a grin. "Although sometimes it feels more like researching destinations and coaxing people into telling me their secrets."

"Sounds like an interesting job," Harry said thoughtfully. "But I bet there's nothing more thrilling than discovering those hidden gems all on your own, right?"

"You know," Charlotte mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "you might be onto something there. Maybe I should start exploring more on my own."

Harry chuckled softly at her response. "Well, if you ever need a travel companion," he suggested casually, his eyes never leaving hers, "you know who to call."

Charlotte felt her heart skip a beat at his words. There was definitely something brewing between them, and she couldn't help but feel excited about the possibility of where this newfound connection could lead them. However, before she could respond further, they were interrupted by the sound of clinking glasses coming from across the bar.

"Hey guys!" a voice called out cheerfully from down the bar. "I just overheard that Harry over here has been getting free drinks all night! That's fantastic news!" The group of people around him erupted into laughter as they all turned towards them.

Charlotte couldn't help but giggle along with them as Harry groaned in exaggerated annoyance. "Oh come on now," he grumbled good-naturedly, rolling his eyes at his friends' antics. "Why ruin a perfectly good rum and coke moment?"

Charlotte smiled at the playful banter, feeling grateful for the unexpected interruption. She glanced back at Harry, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he shook his head in mock exasperation at his friends' antics.

"Well," Charlotte said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "it looks like you've got quite the fan club here, Harry. Free drinks and all! I might need to start hanging around you more often."

Harry laughed, a warm sound that made Charlotte's heart flutter. "I'll have to watch out for freeloaders now that my secret's out," he joked, his gaze lingering on Charlotte.

As the night continued with laughter and shared stories, Charlotte realized that perhaps the best hidden gem she had discovered that evening wasn't a place or a secret, but rather the connection she was building with Harry. And as they exchanged smiles and easy conversation, she knew that this chance encounter was just the beginning of an exciting new chapter waiting to unfold.

As she turned back to Harry, she noticed him sipping his drink slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. She watched his throat move gracefully, unconsciously following its movement with her eyes. The smell of smoke from the nearby table wafted over from a group of smokers outside chatting animatedly about their night so far; it mingled with the scent of stale beer and flowery perfume from a woman who walked past them moments ago. She wanted him. Badly.

As the laughter from Harry's friends echoed in the background, Charlotte decided to take a leap into unknown waters. Her full lips curved into an impish grin as she leaned closer to him, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. " I was thinking of heading back to my place...but I wouldn't mind some company."

Harry choked on his drink, a surprised cough bouncing off the dim lights of the bar. His azure eyes widened for a moment before they smoldered with a heat that made Charlotte's belly flutter. "Are you sure?" he asked, his rich baritone sending shivers down her spine.

Charlotte felt her body react to his words - anticipation pooling deliciously between her thighs. She responded by tracing her finger up his arm, her touch light but incendiary. "I've never been more certain," she replied confidently, the huskiness in her voice revealing just how much she wanted him.

With a swift movement, Harry grabbed their jackets and led Charlotte out of the bar. The cool night air did little to douse their palpable attraction; it only seemed to heighten it further as they stumbled into the backseat of the taxi waiting outside.

As soon as they were alone, Charlotte found herself pinned against the plush leather seat, Harry's large hands roaming over her body. Their lips met in a fiery clash of teeth and tongues. Each fervent kiss made Charlotte whimper and gasp for breath - her body quivering under his masterful touch.

His fingers found their way under her shirt, tracing tantalizing patterns on her silken skin. Her nipples hardened instantly beneath his touch, causing Charlotte to arch into him and moan wantonly into his mouth.

Harry's grip tightened as a low growl escaped his lips, interrupting their heated kiss. He glanced around, suddenly aware of their surroundings - a cramped taxi with a bemused driver in the front seat. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he pulled away from Charlotte and muttered an apology to the driver before paying the fare and exiting the vehicle. They stumbled up to Charlotte's small flat, fumbling with keys and struggling to open the door in their urgency. Finally inside, they were consumed by each other once more, the intensity of their desire seemingly boundless.

Finally, they descended upon each other once more, the intensity growing. Within moments, clothes were shed and strewn about the room. Harry gently pushed Charlotte onto the bed, his hands exploring her body with an insatiable hunger. As he leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth, she grasped his erection, stroking him firmly as she felt his breath hitch in response. Their bodies intertwined, Harry's fingers found her wetness, teasing her and coaxing a desperate moan from her lips.

Their tongues tangled in an erotic dance as their bodies writhed together in a symphony of lust. As Harry's hand gripped Charlotte's thigh, he pulled her closer, grinding his hips against hers. She moaned into the kiss, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"You taste so good," Harry murmured between kisses, his free hand trailing down her side and dipping beneath her waistband to find her wetness once more. He plunged two fingers into her core, eliciting a gasp from her lips as she arched her back off the bed.

"Fuck," she groaned, "Don't stop."

His thumb circled her swollen bud while his fingers pumped in and out of her in a rapid rhythm that sent shivers down her spine. Harry's other hand found its way between their bodies, tracing the hard line of his erection against her stomach before slipping lower to tease at her entrance.

"I want you inside me," she whispered hoarsely, rocking her hips towards him in desperation. Without another word, Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside slowly but surely until he was fully sheathed within her tight warmth before removing himself as a tease.

"Fuck," he growled deep in his throat.

Harry grabbed Charlotte's wrists and pinned them above her head, holding her captive beneath him. His lips crashed down onto hers in a fierce, passionate kiss that left her breathless. He nipped at her lower lip before slipping his tongue inside her mouth to explore every corner of this beauty beneath him.

As they made out, he ground his hips against hers, teasingly rubbing himself against the wet folds of her entrance. She moaned loudly into his mouth, unable to resist the intense desire coursing through her veins. Her body arched off of the bed as she begged for more of his touch.

Harry pulled away from their kiss, trailing hot breath along Charlotte's jawline until he reached her earlobe which he nipped softly before whispering, "You're going to love every second of what I'm about to do to you."

Without further warning, he thrust into her tight warmth with forceful precision, claiming her body as his own with each powerful stroke inside her welcoming depths. She cried out in delight at the incredible feeling of being filled by him so completely. His hard muscles flexed against her sensitive flesh as he held most of his weight on his arms while continuing to pound into her relentlessly hard.

"Oh fuck!" Charlotte groaned out loudly as she felt herself being taken over by waves of pleasure she had never experienced before from this rough yet beautiful session with Harry who was treating her like an object for his lust but still keeping it safe.

As Harry continued his violent invasion of Charlotte's body, she let out a long, low moan that reverberated through both of them. "Oh... my... God..." she panted, her head thrown back in ecstasy as he thrust deeper and harder into her with each passing moment.

His rough hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place while he took her with a ferocity that left her breathless. "Uuuuhhh... harder," she begged between gasps for air. She could feel herself getting closer to the edge with every stroke of his thick cock inside her.

Harry obliged, slamming into her with renewed force that made every particle of her being sing with pleasure. She arched her back off the bed, crying out in delight as he filled her completely. "Fuck! You feel so good," he groaned between harsh breaths.

Charlotte couldn't help but moan in agreement. "Aaaahhh... yes!" She tightened her grip on his shoulders, urging him on as he continued to pound into her at an unrelenting pace. Every time he bottomed out inside her, she felt herself being pulled closer to the brink of orgasm.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each one responding to the other's every move with a desperation that only fueled their passion further. As they neared the peak together, Charlotte's breath came in short gasps and whispers of encouragement. "Oh my god... I'm going to cum."

Harry's thrusts grew even more frenzied as he felt himself getting closer too. "Cum for me," he growled into her ear before pulling out roughly and shooting his hot load across her stomach and chest.

Charlotte screamed out his name as the intense sensations washed over her, taking her over the edge too. Her body convulsed around him; she arched off the bed and shuddered violently as waves of pleasure coursed through every fiber of her being.

Finally spent, they collapsed onto the bed together, panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath from this intense encounter filled with raw lust and unbridled passion. It was clear that neither one would ever forget this night anytime soon....

As the weeks went by, Harry and Charlotte's fiery encounters continued. They would meet at the bar, share a few drinks and laughs, and then head back to Harry's place for wild nights of passion.

But as much as Charlotte enjoyed their steamy rendezvous, she couldn't help but develop feelings for Harry. She found herself eagerly anticipating their next meeting and craving his touch even when they were apart.

And it wasn't just about the physical chemistry between them anymore. Charlotte loved the way Harry made her laugh with his dry wit and dark sense of humor. She loved the way he took care of her after sex, bringing her water and cuddling with her until she fell asleep.

One day, as they lay in bed together after another mind-blowing session, Charlotte couldn't keep her feelings bottled up any longer. "Harry," she whispered, running her fingers through his messy hair.

He turned to look at her with those piercing green eyes that always seemed to see right through her. "Yeah?"

"I... I want more," she said, feeling a little vulnerable but also relieved that she had finally said it out loud.

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. "More?"

Charlotte nodded, suddenly feeling a rush of courage. "I want us to be exclusive." but unlike Charlotte Harry did not want the same things.

Harry's expression shifted, his features hardening slightly as he processed Charlotte's words. He sat up, pulling away from her touch, a furrow forming between his brows.

"Exclusive?" he repeated, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Charlotte, I thought we were on the same page about keeping things casual."

Charlotte's heart sank at his reaction, but she steeled herself and met his gaze head-on. "I know we started off that way, but I've developed real feelings for you, Harry. I want more than just these occasional hookups."

Harry ran a hand through his tousled hair, his jaw tensing as he pondered her words. "I... I care about you too, Charlotte. But I'm not sure if I can give you what you're asking for."

Disappointment washed over Charlotte, but she refused to back down. "Why not? What is holding you back?"

Harry looked her dead in the eyes, “You’re too sweet for me.”

Anger ignited within Charlotte at his dismissive response. Her voice laced with frustration, she shot back without missing a beat, "Don't use that as an excuse, Harry. It's about being honest and upfront about what you want."

The room felt suffocating as their confrontation escalated. Harry's jaw tightened further as he stood up, towering over her in a display of defiance. "Maybe you're just too naive to understand," he retorted sharply.

Charlotte rose to meet him at eye level, her own anger rising to match his intensity. "Naive? I know what I want, and I won't settle for anything less," she declared firmly.

Their voices clashed like thunder in the room, echoing off the walls in a fierce battle of wills. Harry took a step forward, his posture challenging as he looked down at her. "You think you can change me? I take my whiskey neat, I’m up until three am most nights. " he challenged, his tone daring her to prove him wrong.

Charlotte didn't flinch under his gaze; instead, she stood her ground with unwavering determination. "I'm not trying to change you, Harry. I'm asking for honesty and transparency in what we share," she shot back defiantly.

The air crackled with tension as their words hung between them like a gauntlet thrown down.

"Maybe we're just too different," Harry stated bluntly, his tone final.

Charlotte refused to back down, her voice firm and resolute. "Our differences don't have to tear us apart. We can find a middle ground if we're willing to try."

The room felt charged with electricity as they stood locked in their battle of wills, neither willing to yield.

The tension between them reached its peak as they stood locked in a silent standoff, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Harry broke the silence with a resigned sigh. "I don't know if I can give you what you're looking for," he admitted quietly.

Harry's gaze bore into Charlotte's, his expression unreadable. "I need time to figure this out," he finally admitted, uncertainty coloring his voice.

Charlotte nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. "Take all the time you need. Just know that I won't settle for less than I deserve."

The tension in the room eased slightly as they both took a step back, their gazes still locked in silent understanding.

Charlotte's shoulders sagged at his admission, the reality of their differences sinking in. With a heavy heart but steely resolve, she met his gaze one last time before turning away.

"I understand," he said softly. She walked towards the door.

As she reached for the handle, Harry's hand shot out to grasp hers gently, stopping her from leaving. The room fell into a tense silence as they shared a moment of unspoken understanding before Charlotte pulled away slowly and walked out into the night.

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