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thestoryofusstan · 12 hours
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I Wanna Be Yours
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pairing: boss!ceo!harry styles x reader
request: Omg, can I request a boss!harry fic where he’s mean to everyone except from her??
summary: harry is the notoriously mean owner of pleasing, and he might have a slight soft spot for the new girl in the marketing department.
warnings: cursing, not edited
--
you were extremely new to pleasing, a very famous brand known for their nail polishes and perfumes. ever since you started (about three months ago), you’d hear literal horror stories about the founder and ceo.
rachel, the girl who trained you, told you that he was just plain rude. it was safe to say you feared the day he came in. thankfully, he wasn’t around much. not at your location, anyway. you were at the los angeles location, but he preferred to stay at the new york one.
tuesday morning, you got ready like every day. put on your usual outfit (a skirt, white button-up, a blazer, and heels), along with some black fleece-lined tights and a headband to push your hair back. it was getting cold out, and you couldn’t get away with just a skirt much longer.
with your iced coffee in one hand, your macbook and a few files you’d taken home in the other, you walked quickly into the building.
“good morning, miss townes,” the concierge greeted you.
“morning, nancy!” you greeted back as you ran to the elevator and pressed the button.
“late?” nancy asked.
“almost! this stupid elevator—“ said elevator dinged, and you let out a sigh of relief. “speak of the devil. see you, nance!”
by the time you made it up to the marketing floor (the twentieth floor out of fifty), you were exactly on time.
you moved as quickly as your heels would allow, dropping your car keys, computer, and files onto the desk.
“right on time, y/n,” rachel teased as you sat down. the two of you had cubicles right next to each other.
“long line at the coffee shop.”
“lucky you weren’t any later,” she commented as you sat down and took a generous sip of the iced coffee that had almost made you late, “mr. styles is said to be coming in today.”
you nearly choked on your drink.
“you finished those edits, right?”
“.. uh.. yeah. yeah, finished them last night,” you lied with a nod.
“y/n! he’s ruthless— he will literally fire you! that’s the new launch, and it’s overdue!”
“i know! i know, but i’ve been so busy, and fucking josh keeps making me do his shit—“
“oh shit, shut up. he’s here.”
“what?” you squeaked, quickly cleaning up your desk and opening the new launch photos on both the desktop and your personal computer.
out of the corner of your eye, you watched as what had to be mr. styles strolled through with an assistant who was talking about what you assumed was his schedule.
“you’ll have a meeting with the investors at three, and we have some papers to sign—“
you tuned her out as you tried to speed up the editing— brightening colors and adjusting the text so it fit better.
and suddenly, the footsteps of mr. styles and his assistant stopped. directly in front of your desk.
“you,” a voice spoke, and oh my god, he was british, “i don’t know you. who are you?”
your eyes snapped up to meet his, “oh. uh.. i’m y/n.. y/n townes. i’m.. um.. i’m new.”
he mouthed your name as if thinking it over.
“you’re the one doing the edits for the new launch?” he asked.
“yes, sir.”
he nodded before continuing his stroll. because, of fucking course, his office had to be on the marketing floor.
you let out a breath, sinking into your chair. rachel grabbed your arm with a comforting smile, “it’s okay, babes. he could’ve been rude.”
“he’s gonna see i’m not done and fire me!”
“it’s fine, just don’t think about it.”
right as you were about to head out on a quick lunch break, mr. styles’ assistant popped up at your desk.
“ms. townes, mr. styles requested your presence in his office. you, as well, ms. evans,” she said, glancing at you and rachel.
“uh— me? for.. for what?” you questioned.
“you’ll find out. i have to find a.. josh richardson. go on.”
you and rachel shared uneasy looks as the two of you stood and made your way to mr. styles’ office.
“if i get fired, i’m jumping out of a window,” you muttered as rachel pulled the door open.
“ah, ms. evans. ms. townes…. where is mr. richardson?” mr. styles spoke.
“your assistant went to grab him,” rachel answered. “what are we needed for?”
“you’ll see… ah, mr. richardson. so kind of you to join us.”
even you could tell he did not mean that.
“what is this?” josh asked, looking to you and rachel.
“you three were all put in charge of the new launch. correct?”
you all chorused variations of yes.
“and yet… nothing is done. why is that?”
you glanced to your shoes. you knew rachel was done. the whole project was all three of you were to make 300 campaigns and promo photos for the new nail polish launch. you'd devided it to be 100 each, and you all picked however many billboard designs, posters, social media posts, and so-ons that you'd do for the project. however, josh had slowly but surely pushed all of his work onto you.. until you had to do 200, and you only had around 130 done.
“i expect an answer.”
“i.. i finished all my photos and campaigns,” rachel finally said.
“i'm nearly done with.. my things. i was just helping josh before i--“
“so.. what i’m hearing so far, and correct me if i’m wrong, is that mr. richardson hasn’t been doing his job?”
josh cleared his throat, and you could feel the daggers he was glaring at you burning into your skull, “yes, mr. styles.”
mr. styles nodded, and you understood the horror stories now. he wasn’t even trying and he was terrifying. “do you like your job, mr. richardson?”
“yes, mr—“
“so why aren’t you doing it?”
“i— i’ve been.. busy.”
“busy.. right. well, i’ll make you less busy. you’re fired. get out.”
“wh— what? you can’t fire me!”
“i believe i can. and i just did. so get. out.”
“i have worked at this company for eight years! i make one mistake, and—“
“i will not ask you again!” mr. styles shouted, standing up from his chair. you flinched. “because i am not asking you, i am telling you. you are fired, and you will leave this building. and don’t even think about puttin’ this place on your resume, i won’t say a single good word about your ass.”
josh scoffed and stormed out of the room, you and rachel followed.
you turned the corner, yelping when someone grabbed your wrist and yanked it.
“what the hell, y/n? you said you’d do my—“
“i didn’t say that. you just assumed i would. i am not just apart of the valentines launch, josh, and i have fifty other things to do, and i can’t drop that just because you’re lazy.”
“you better watch what you say to me—“
a voice spoke from behind. mr. styles’ assisant, “uh.. miss townes? mr. styles requests he speak with you.. privately.”
you yanked your arm back, rubbing your wrist, “yes. of— of course. sorry.”
you walked back towards his office with your head down, glancing up at him once you entered the room.
you were surprised to see a... calm look on his face.
"miss townes, correct?" he asked.
"ye-.. uh.. yes, sir."
he smiled, which was very odd from what you'd seen of him so far, "you can relax, darling. you aren't in trouble. have a seat."
you hesitantly wandered towards the chair on the other side of his desk.
"what did you mean by.. helping mr. richardson with his work?"
"oh, well... he just.. he kept saying he was busy and asking if i could do.. certain parts of his work. and i--.. well, sometimes i'm a bit of a pushover, so i said yes."
"i see... and how much of his work, in total, did he push onto you?"
"uhm... all of it, mr. styles."
his eyes widened, "all of it? and you didn't tell a supervisor he wasn't planning on doing any of his work?"
"i.. i felt bad," you shrugged, looking down at your hands.
"yes. well... mrs. maruska, can you please bring mr. richardson back in here for a moment, please?"
you jumped when his assistant spoke behind you, not realizing she was even in the room.
"yes, mr. styles."
it was silent for a minute after the door shut, maybe two minutes, until the door re-opened and two pairs of footsteps entered.
"mr. richardson, before you leave, you are going to do something for me," mr. styles spoke. "you are going to apologize to y/n--"
you nearly choke on your own spit at his use of your first name.
"for making her do all of your work. and.. you will also apologize for whatever the hell that was i heard outside. that is no way to speak to any colleague."
josh scoffed, "i'm not apologiz--"
"i'm not asking."
mr. styles gaze switched to you as josh begrudgingly sighed, "i'm sorry, y/n."
"it's okay," you murmured, glancing at him.
"no, it isn't," mr. styles quickly interjected, keeping his eyes on you. you much preferred them on you than on josh. they were a lot kinder when they focused on you. softer. "but.. if ms. townes says it is alright... you may leave now."
you aren't quite sure what happens afterwards, because you keep your gaze away from mr. styles, because you're afraid he'll notice how nervous he makes you.
"how many did you have left?" mr. styles asked quietly. softly.
"i have 130 done. so.. seventy left. but i-- i can get them done soon, i promise. i can just stay late, or.. or--"
"no. none of that. you'll submit the ones you have.. and we'll figure out something for the rest."
"really? i mean.. are you sure?"
"i wouldn't have offered if i wasn't. you can go, now."
"thank you, mr. styles," you mumbled, standing and walking to the door.
right as you grabbed the handle, he called out.
"oh, and y/n?"
you turned around with a furrow in your brows.
"let me know if you have any other problems."
you can't even help the foolish smile on your lips as you nod and leave the room.
--
a/n: part 1!! i really love this request
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harrysbabycherry · 4 hours
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housemates (part six)
in which y/n needs a roommate and her brother has someone in mind
6.8k words
warnings: none? i think.
main masterlist
part six
Two weeks later, Harry’s face is still bruised. And that infuriated (Y/N) to a degree that she never thought possible. 
He’s acting like it’s no big deal. He still goes to work and doesn’t bother trying to hide it. He says it makes him look “tough” and she just can’t get behind that. (Y/N) refuses to talk to Felix. It’s not like he’s tried to reach out either, but if he did, she really doesn’t have anything to say to him right now. 
Laura did send her a message asking if Harry was alright the night of, but she just didn’t have it in her to respond, so she didn’t. And there’s been no word from either of them since. She doesn’t mind it right now, she wants to spend her time with Harry anyway. 
He would go to the bar with a bruised face, but he all out refused to take (Y/N) on their date until it had faded completely. She rolled her eyes at him but understood anyway. They would get their chance eventually. 
(Y/N) was studying when Harry got home from the bar. He leaves early most nights because he just can’t stand to be away from her that long. He didn’t explicitly say that, but she knows that’s the reason because as soon as he walks in the door, he’s right in her arms, complaining about rowdy customers and being tired.
Like she predicted, as soon as he came in the door, he was carefully moving her notes aside so he could sit down beside her on the couch and shove his face in her neck. Her headphones were on, so she didn’t ask him what was doing, she just let him rest there, and went back to her laptop. 
Eventually (three seconds later), he was tugging on the ends of her hair to get her attention. She pulled her headphones off and met his eyes. 
“Yes?” 
“Hi.” 
She couldn’t help smiling at him. He warms her heart in a way that she never thought anyone would ever be able to do. He makes her feel things she never thought she’d ever experience. And that’s why she knows that whatever this is, it’s genuine. 
“Hi. Need something?” 
“Mhm.” 
“What?” 
“Attention.” 
That made her roll her eyes before she put her laptop aside and let him wrap his arms around her shoulders to pull her into his chest. (Y/N) really can’t explain it, but she doesn’t know how she survives anywhere else but here, in his arms. 
In the last two weeks, they’ve grown closer than ever. And it’s not just because Harry is an insatiable little thing, but because all of their feelings are out there now. She told him she liked him. Though he still asks at least three times a day if she meant it when she said it and each time, she gives him a look. Because if he can’t tell by now that she’s head over heels for him, then he must not be paying much attention. But she can definitely tell he’s into her and he’s just so sweet about it. Always doing nice things, saying nice things. Overall, (Y/N) doesn’t think she’s ever met anyone quite like him before. 
“How’s your nose?” 
“Okay. Hurts just a little.” 
“Aw. It does?” 
“Mhm. Might need a kiss or something to make it better. Don’t know really.” He’d been using that excuse ever since Felix punched him. His nose does look much better than it did, the bruising is almost gone completely, but she’ll let him milk this for as long as he wants. It’s cute. 
She lifted her head from his chest to first examine his nose again, like she does every time she sees him. Just to check. She still feels bad for the whole thing and it could have been avoided. But Harry just had to say that they fucked. Even if it was true, it’s none of his business. To keep him from pouting any longer (which he’s already doing because she’s not giving him what he wants immediately), she pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose and then his cheek. 
“Better?” 
“Much better. Date tomorrow then?” 
“Where are we going?” 
“Can’t tell.” He looked smug about keeping it a secret. She’s not sure what he could be planning for them to do, but there’s no use in trying to pry the information out of him. He won’t tell her. 
“Loser,” She reached to shut her laptop and when she turned back to him, he was just blinking at her in what seemed to be disbelief. “Okay. You’re not a loser. Ready for bed?” That made him smile again. 
“Yes, please.”
They went through their nightly routine which very recently became something they did side by side. They’d stand next each other in the bathroom and brush their teeth, he’d watch her apply her skincare, which in turn became something he was interested in doing too. He has his own fleet of serums and creams that he uses every night and sometimes he has to encourage her to do hers when she’s too tired. He’s very convincing when he has to be and while it is annoying at times, she’s grateful for it. 
Once they were tucked into bed and the lights were out, save for the purple fairy lights, Harry had taken to running his hand up and down her arm, just something mindless he does to fall asleep, she’d learned after sharing a bed with him for this long. 
“Can I ask you something?” He spoke up just as she was going to surrender to sleep. Today had been a long day of trying to force herself to study and she really couldn’t wait to sleep. But if Harry wants to ask her something, she can stay awake just a bit longer to see what it is. 
“Mhm.” She turned her head toward him, but kept her eyes shut.
“Have you talked to Felix?” 
“Nope.” 
“Why?” 
She sighed, opening her eyes to see that Harry was watching her closely, probably trying to gauge how she was really feeling about the situation. She already stressed how upset she was with him to Harry several times, mostly when she was holding an ice pack to his nose, but he has to know why she probably wouldn’t want to talk to him at the moment. 
“What do I have to say to him? He needs to apologize to you first and then I’ll consider it,” It’s true and he knows it, but he’s just too understanding to try to be angry at Felix for punching him. “You should be mad at him, he punched you!” She shook his shoulder, trying to elicit some sort of reaction out of him, but there was nothing. He just shrugged. 
“He didn’t know what to do with the information, that’s all,” They’ve already had this conversation and Harry never has anything negative to say. “You should call him.” 
“Harry, sweetheart, get some rest. Seriously.” Right as (Y/N) was going to roll over, he was wrapping an arm around her so she couldn’t go far. 
“Don’t let this ruin anything. He’s still your brother.” 
“He’s the one that ruined it! You didn’t even do anything.” 
“Can you at least see why he might be a little mad?” 
“Not really.” 
He let her turn over and she heard him sigh. She doesn’t want to be stubborn about it, but Harry is just being far too nice for someone who’s had a bruised nose for two weeks. But she also sees where he’s coming from. A little bit. This is the longest she’s gone without speaking to Felix but she’s never really been this mad at him before. Maybe she’ll give it another week and see if anything happens and if not, she can at least let Laura know that she’s still alive. 
“Are you really not going to hold me tonight? What the hell,” He was already wrapping his arm around her and pressing his chest to her back before she could respond or move. “There. Now, get some rest because our date is tomorrow. I hope you like it.” 
“Of course, I will. If it’s with you.” She grabbed his hand resting across her stomach and pressed her lips to the back of it. 
“Being so sweet to me tonight, aren’t you? You must really like me.” 
And (Y/N) could have told him that he was getting too far ahead of himself, but instead, she just hums a yes and falls asleep.  
****
“Bowling?” (Y/N) asked right as Harry put the car in park.
She’d been bowling a handful of times, but she wouldn’t exactly say she’s good at it. Sure, she’s gotten a strike a few odd times, on accident, and that’s really it. Though she’s a bit surprised he picked bowling as one of their first dates, she’s not going to be picky. She just wants to spend time with Harry. 
“You’re terrible at it, aren’t you?” He laughed, pulling the keys from the ignition, and glancing at her. Even though it was on its way to getting dark, his eyes were still so bright as he looked over at her. And she couldn’t help but think that she might be the reason they were practically gleaming. Does he really like her that much? To look at her with something like that in his eyes? It almost makes her swoon, but instead, she swats at his arm. 
“And you’re a pro, I’m sure.” Reaching for the door handle, she rolled her eyes before stepping out of the car and waiting for him to join her. He rushed out, grasping her hand and swinging it back and forth with his while guiding her to the doors. 
“I was in a league.” 
“No way.” 
“I was. In college.” 
“Why?” 
“Was bored. I don’t know.” He shrugged, pulling the door open for her to step inside first, without letting go of her hand. When they stood in the short line at the counter to get shoes, Harry pulled her in front of him so he could rest his chin on her shoulder. 
He paid for everything, not giving her the chance to fight him on it, and before she really knew it, he was handing her a pair of shoes exactly her size and dragging her off to their designated lane. 
It was a little crowded, mostly families and friend groups that all varied in size. But they were a lane away from another set of people so it didn’t feel so stuffy. 
Harry offered to tie her shoes for her and while she was entirely capable of doing it herself, she let him anyway because he seemed like he really wanted to. Once her shoes were tied into pretty bows, she was standing beside him as he keyed their names into the computer. 
“You’re letting me go first? So kind of you.” (Y/N) isn’t very concerned with her performance in the game. Because if Harry was actually in a league, she doesn’t stand a chance. She didn’t think she’d do brilliantly either, but maybe decently. At least. 
“I know. Let’s bet on it.” Turning to her with a smirk already plastered on his face, she knew he was thinking of nothing but trouble. But the idea of a bet and getting a little competitive could be interesting. 
“What were you thinking?” 
“Best of three. If I win, very likely by the way, I get a kiss,” He chuckled when she made a face. “And if I lose, very unlikely by the way, you get a kiss.” 
“That’s no fun. I could just kiss you now and then what?” Since she was close enough, she did exactly that. He blinked at her when she pulled away and then smiled shyly. 
“Good point,” He cleared his throat and thought for a second. “Head.” 
“You’re such a guy. Fine,” Stepping away from him to grab one of the pretty pink bowling balls, she walked onto the wood floor, right in front of their lane. “And if I win…hm. I’ll have to think about it.” 
“How come you get to think about it? I don’t even know what I’m playing for!” 
“You’re playing to get your dick sucked. Now be quiet so I can concentrate.” She ignored his huffing behind her and tried to focus on the pins at the end of the lane. She wanted to aim for the middle, right? That would increase her chances of getting a strike but she’s bowled before and the ball almost never keeps going in a straight line. There must be a trick to it that Harry probably knows, the showoff, but for now she’ll just try her best. 
“Need help?” Harry was right behind her, resting his hand on her hip. 
“I think I know how to roll a ball, Harry.” Without waiting another second, she just tossed it. It hit the floor and veered directly off to the left, into the gutter. He whistled, pinching her side. 
“Gutterball. That sucks. You know what else is going to suck?” He tried to look sympathetic before leaning down to her ear. “You.” 
(Y/N) shoved him away and stomped over to the ball return just as her pink ball was spit out of it. She had another chance to try to knock down pins. She needs some sort of points on the board if she wants a chance at beating him. Having not seen him play yet kind of worries her. He might actually be good and that would be awful. Not because she doesn’t want to suck him off, but because she wants to win. To prove the smug fucker wrong.
Standing in front of the lane again, she tried to line herself up differently, to see if she stood off to the side a little, the ball would curve as it always does, and end up hitting right in the middle, earning her a strike. 
“You know, I might be able to play correctly if you’re not standing right behind me.” She shot him a look over her shoulder and he put his hands up immediately. 
“Oh, sure. Sure. Take your time.” She waited until he was standing by the computer before taking a deep breath and attempting to focus again. This would be a learning experience for sure. Where to stand, how to throw the ball, all of it. She never paid any attention previously because she’s never been this invested in a game before. 
So, she threw the ball down the lane and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to hear pins falling over. Hopefully. She peeked her eyes open just as the ball was skimming the very far right side of the pins, knocking three over. Progress.
She turned to Harry just as he started a slow clap, making her shove his shoulder as she walked past him to sit in the chair in front of the computer. 
“You’re really insufferable, do you know that?” 
“You really talk a lot, do you know that?” He picked up his ball and sent her a smirk. “We’ll fix that in a little bit.” 
(Y/N) doesn’t think she’s ever seen Harry behave this way and she can’t lie and say it doesn’t excite her just a bit. He’s kind of being a dick. But in a hot way? If that makes sense. If that’s a thing. She doesn’t know but what she does know is that she can’t wait to get her hands on him.
Of course, Harry had the form down perfectly. He tossed the ball down the lane effortlessly with only a flick of his wrist and the pins were just…gone and an x was added to his scorecard. He turned to her with a grin. 
“Lucky shot.” She crossed her arms. 
“If that makes you feel better. You’re up, baby. Make me proud.” 
Another round of her only knocking down five or so pins, while Harry continued to get strikes and spares. She did eventually score a strike on complete accident and while he was still miles ahead of her, it was still an accomplishment. 
They took a break in between games to sit down at a table after ordering drinks and a side of cheese fries. Harry won the first game and while he wasn’t bragging about it yet, she knew that he was a little too happy about it. 
The second game was quick. (Y/N) wasn’t concerned winning, she wouldn’t be even if she was trying. He returned their shoes and grabbed onto her hand before walking her out to the car. He even opened her door for her and shut it once she was inside. 
“Can we get ice cream?” She pouted when he sighed. They do get ice cream way more than they should but (Y/N) has quite the sweet tooth and ice cream is the only way to deal with it. 
“Fine. Delaying the inevitable I see.” 
“Be quiet and drive.” 
“Yes ma’am.” 
The drive was quick and once Harry paid again they sat outside on a bench in front of the shop. It was a cool night and she forgot her jacket so she scooted closer to him on the bench and let his arm wrap around her shoulders. 
“What kind did you get?” She noticed he got something he didn’t usually, so she asked. They both got cones, so he held his out to her. 
“Taste,” She did. “Is this a sneak peak of what you’re going to do to me later?” 
“You’re funny.” 
He laughed, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek before going back to his ice cream. They sat in silence for a while. Harry seemed to be thinking about something deeply and she didn’t want to necessarily interrupt him, even if her ice cream cone was long gone. It was nice to sit and just be with him. And she liked how they didn’t have to always be talking for their time together to be enjoyable. 
She got another chill and just as she was going to nudge him and ask if he was ready, he spoke up. 
“Can I tell you something?” 
She paused. That almost never ended well and she’s unsure if she really wants to know. But if he has something to say, she’ll listen, no matter what it is. 
“Yes.” Her nerves are a little high just because she doesn’t know what to expect. Maybe he changed his mind, she couldn’t be mad at him for it, it happens. At least he’s telling her now. On their first date, but at least he’s being quick about it. 
“I don’t want to pressure you at all. So, you don’t have to say anything, just…listen,” He was tense, she could tell and in turn she was too, not knowing what he’s going to say. “I’ve liked you for a long time, you know that though, right?”
“You said since we met, yeah.” (Y/N) doesn’t remember much about the night since Felix was hovering around her the entire time, but she does remember Harry. How sweet he was and how different he was from Felix’s other friends. He asked meaningful questions and actually gave a fuck about the answers. He did tell her this awful joke that she couldn’t even pretend was good but she remembers it all. 
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” His eyes didn’t leave hers once. “Even when we hadn’t seen each other in years, I still always thought about you. I thought about reaching out but I was afraid you wouldn’t remember me or you’d think I was weird, so I didn’t. Plus, I was with Katie, but I was never happy with her. We only stayed together so long because it was what we were used to, but I knew that it was only a matter of time,” 
“I wish I could say it in another way that’s not so intense that it’ll scare you but (Y/N), I can’t leave here without saying it.” His hand gently grabbed hers, intertwining their fingers. Her heart is pounding because she has a really good idea about what he’s going to say. And she doesn’t know what her reaction will be unless she hears him actually say it. 
“Go ahead.” She urged him on, holding his hand just a little tighter. 
“I love you,” 
Her stomach dropped. But not in the way that she just heard the worst news of her life. In the way that she is overwhelmed with so much joy, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 
“Don’t feel pressured to say anything,” He quickly cut in, seeing her wide-eyed reaction. “I just said it because I wanted you to know. You don’t have to say it back now, but maybe if you think that one day…you could love me too, we could take the next step…maybe?” 
He didn’t even let her say anything, he just kept rambling on. 
“But if you don’t know right this second, that’s okay. You don’t have to say a single word, (Y/N). You can just stare at me and we can go home and pretend I didn’t say anything. No big deal.” He laughed nervously, taking his shaky hand from hers to rub it over his jeans. 
“What do you mean by next step?” She asked instead, just to make him sweat a little bit.
“Huh?” He cleared his throat. “Oh, like…dating. Boyfriend girlfriend type thing. But if that’s too soon and too much, that’s totally cool and I’ll chill out a little bit. I understand how that could be overwhelming and stuff, so I’ll just—” 
The quickest way to shut Harry up is to kiss him, so that’s what she did. He tried to pull back, probably just to tell her that she doesn’t have to say anything again, but she set her hand on the back of his neck to keep him pressed to her. 
“I’m your girlfriend.” She breathed out once she pulled away from him. She couldn’t help smiling as she looked over his flushed face. 
“So, like…does that mean that you…”
“Yes, silly. I love you too.” 
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”
****
(Y/N)’s Friday nights are now spent at the bar with Harry. She sits on his desk right beside him while he clicks around on his computer and makes sure the numbers are right. It’s not boring in the slightest, even though he tells her if she’s bored, she can go sit out at the bar. She wants to tell him that wherever he is, that’s where she wants to be. Doesn’t matter if it’s boring or not. 
Ever since their first date, (Y/N) can barely leave the house. She doesn’t want to leave him at home while she goes to classes. But she knows that it’s only a matter of time before she’s out of school forever, so she’s trying to keep her head there until she’s finished for good. Harry makes it so hard though. 
“Want to get out of here?” 
It’s only nine thirty and he already wanted to go. She only came to join him about an hour ago and he already looked done for the night. But as soon as he saw her, his arms were wrapped around her and he was squeezing her. 
“Is it alright if you leave? We can stay for a bit longer if you need.” At that, he shot her a look. And then he stood up to start collecting his things. 
“Baby, please. I’m the boss.” 
“Believe me, I know. You’re really cute.” 
“I am?” 
“I think you already know that,” She was able to reach out and grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him in front of her. “Kiss.” His hands rested on either side of her cheeks and kissed her. It reminded her that night at the bar when she kissed him for the first time. It was a long time coming. She didn’t know what she did until she’d already done it and it felt so right, there was no space for doubt. 
Things have progressed so much since then. She tells Harry she loves him before she leaves, before she goes to sleep, when she wakes up. She hopes she’s not overdoing it but he never seems to mind and says it right back with no hesitation. 
His office door was knocked on, making the two of them part. Harry squeezed her knee before stepping around her and to the door. Derek stood on the other side with a key in his hand. 
“I did it,” He beamed at his boss before looking past him to see (Y/N). “Oh. Hi, (Y/N).” She waved, saying a hello. Derek was funny and often kept her company when Harry was busy. 
“Okay, thank you for my keys, Derek. Goodbye,” Harry shut the door in his face before he could say anything else and then he turned to her. “Ready?” 
“Why did Derek have your house keys?” (Y/N) has gotten to know the ins and outs of Harry very well, so when he tries to casually answer her question, she knows he’s lying. Or at least telling a story. 
“What? These? He ran to my car for me.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking away from her and back to his desk to start arranging his things. 
“Harry,” She gave him a look. “What’s going on?” 
“What’s going on?” He met her eyes for a second before looking away again. “Nothing, baby. Just ready to go home. Are you?” 
“You’re up to something. What is it?” She hopped down from his desk so she could get a grip on his arm and make him face her. “You’re being secretive and I don’t appreciate it.” 
“I—no. I just…can we go home? This will all make sense if we go home, okay?” He ran his hand over hers to calm her and she sighed. He’s being weird but if he says they should just go home, she trusts him. 
The car ride was quiet, just because she doesn’t know what he’s doing. She could tell he was overly nervous the whole time because he kept glancing at her and looking like he wanted to say something, but he never did. 
She waited impatiently for him to unlock the door with her arms crossed. 
“I don’t like surprises.” She jabbed her finger into his arm. 
“Well, I thought you’d like this one but if you don’t, we don’t have to keep it.” He almost looks a little bummed now. Like his surprise was ruined or something but she doesn’t even know what it is yet, so she kisses his cheek to make him relax. 
“I’m sure I’ll love it but you scared me a little bit. Where is it?” They stepped into the apartment and he took his time in taking off his shoes and putting his things aside. But finally, he led her back to his room but the door was shut which was a little strange because it’s never shut these days and he’s never even in it anymore. 
He grasped the handle and tried to smile at her but he still looked anxious about whatever it was. He pushed the door open and let her in first. 
On Harry’s bed was an open cardboard box and inside, snuggled into a blanket was a cinnamon colored kitten. 
Her hand immediately clamped over her mouth and she punched his shoulder. 
“Ow!” 
“Shh!” She peeked back into the box to see that the kitten hadn’t even stirred one bit after Harry’s outburst. “What did you do?” Already feeling herself tearing up, she reached into the box and gently rubbed her fingers down the kitten’s back. 
“We don’t have to keep it, I just thought that…” He trailed off, wringing his hands. 
“What’s its name?” She sat on his bed and very gently coaxed the kitten awake with soft coos and when it blinked its eyes open, she melted. 
“Bread,” He spoke up, slowly sitting beside her. “He came with that name, we can change it if you don’t like it—”
“I love it so much, Harry. Please, you’re so thoughtful and cute and he’s so tiny! Look at him!” She pouted at him before pinning her gaze back onto Bread who was now stretched out on his back and batting at her hand with his tiny paw. 
“I picked him out earlier after I left for work and Derek had to get him and bring him here when he was all ready to go.” Harry reached out and the kitten was immediately attracted to his hand as he scratched over his stomach. 
(Y/N) half remembers mentioning that they should get a pet of some kind a few weeks ago but she never expected he’d get a cat or that he recalled she said that at all. But it’s such a nice surprise, she could kiss him. So, she does exactly that and then lifts Bread out of the box to hold him to her chest. He started purring when she rubbed her thumb under his chin and it was the cutest thing.
Harry showed her all the toys and other essentials he picked up at some point secretly and then they took Bread to the living room to play. 
He’s just happy that he got a good reaction out of her. He thought she’d be pissed because he didn’t tell her beforehand but as he watched her press kisses to the cat’s head, he hopes that he’ll be able to handle sharing her affection. With a cat. Maybe this wasn’t his best idea. 
He practically has to pry the cat from her hands when he deems it’s bedtime and she pouts for a minute before she sees Bread cuddled in his new bed and then she happily goes back to her room to get ready for bed. 
“She’s my girlfriend. Just so you know.” Harry knows he’s talking to a cat, but as the little thing blinks at him innocently, he can’t help the groan that leaves his mouth. “You sleep out here, okay?” Another blink. 
“Thank you.” 
Just as he settles into bed beside (Y/N) and wraps his arm around her waist, he hears little feet scampering across the floor. 
“Is that the baby?” 
“For fuck’s sake.” Maybe he didn’t think it through. Of course Bread would want to sleep in bed with them. Of course. 
(Y/N) is up out of the bed as soon as Bread is meowing pitifully right beside her. Once he’s in her arms, she looked at Harry with something that said this cat is sleeping in this bed with or without you. So, he sighs and lifts the blankets up for her to slide back in next to him. 
“He was probably so scared out there by himself. He’s just a baby.” Again, she’s kissing the cat on the head like it even deserves that. Harry doesn’t mean to be jealous of a cat but he is. Just a smidge. This will go away as soon as (Y/N) gets used to it.
****
Every morning, Harry wakes up to Bread sleeping on his face. He doesn’t know how he wiggles his way from (Y/N)’s chest to his face but he does everyday without fail. She thinks it’s cute, so she’d never understand that for some reason, he’s feeling second best to this…thing. He can’t even call it properly by its name, it makes him so mad. 
“You don’t have to baby him, you know.” 
“But he’s a baby. Of course I do,”She doesn’t let the thing out of her sight when she’s home and the cat is basically pointing and laughing at Harry whenever he tries to get close to her and she cuddles the cat instead. “Will you hold him while I make breakfast? He likes to be held.” 
“I’d rather die,” He muttered to himself before holding his hands out for the little demon. The cat meows as soon as it’s away from (Y/N), making him roll his eyes. “How’d you make this cat the biggest crybaby in a matter of days?” 
“He loves his mom, duh. He’d like you too if you stopped death glaring him all the time.” 
Harry lightens his stare on the cat when it looks up at him cutely before biting into his arm. Behind (Y/N)’s back, he dropped the cat on the floor and let it run off to circle her feet and rub against her ankles. It wasn’t a hard bite, it just shocked him a little bit. But he expects no less from that spoiled brat. 
“I’m feeling ignored.” He stepped behind her at the stove and grabbed onto her waist. She’s making bacon and pancakes and it smells delicious but he’d rather nuzzle his face into her neck and stay there for a while. 
“I’m sorry. We can make him sleep in his bed tonight if you want.” She turned her head slightly to paste her lips to his for a short second before returning her attention to the pan.  
“I like that. Want to fuck you without that thing trying to bite me.” It was true. Most times when he tried to touch (Y/N), Bread wasn’t feeling it. But tonight would be different. He’s glad they’re on the same page. He hasn’t gotten to touch her since he made the mistake of bringing that cat home. 
He doesn’t entirely regret it, he just thinks Bread has some warming up to do and they need to spend time together. Then things will simmer down. But for now, he’s not in the mood for it. 
“Just say you want to be babied a bit and I can do that. I know Bread is getting a lot of attention but I don’t want you to feel left out.” She turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He loves mornings like this where they can stay in their pajamas and laze the day away after breakfast. He contemplates calling out of work tonight just to stay here all day and he thinks he will. They can handle it without him. 
“I need you to baby me. I’m feeling left out.” He pouted his lips at her, slipping his hands under her tee shirt to feel her bare skin. She raised on her toes to kiss his lips and he leaned into it entirely, hoping fucking Bread was watching. Even though he’s a cat and probably has no idea what they’re doing. 
The kiss got a little hot, whatever was in the pan being long forgotten as she pressed her body into his and trailed one of her hands down to the tie in his pajama pants. He’s already stiffening just beyond the fabric and he feels one of her hands cup over his cock, making him moan into her mouth. 
He wants to turn her around and lay her over the counter and fuck her like that. In his tee shirt with his pants around his ankles and hear her cry out his name like it’s the only word she knows. But he’s ripped away from that fantasy as the cat (demon) yet again, sinks its teeth into his toe, making him curse and jump away from (Y/N). 
“Fucking cat. You’re mine after breakfast, hear me?” He pointed at her and she laughed, turning back to the stove. 
“Yes sir.” 
He glares at the cat as he stalks back to the bedroom to wait until she’s finished with breakfast. He’ll take great joy in shutting the door in the cat’s face in mere minutes so he can ravish (Y/N) like he’s been wanting to do for far too long. 
From all the way back in (Y/N)’s bedroom, he hears a faint knock on the door. And then her rushed footsteps back to him. Her expression is alarmed slightly as she holds the cat to her chest. 
“What’s wrong?” 
“Felix is here.” 
“Fuck.” 
They both hurry to dress more than they previously were, (Y/N) pulling on a pair of shorts while he tugs a shirt over his head. She passes him the cat as they walk to the front door. 
“Maybe you’ll look less punchable if you hold Bread.” 
“Are you saying I look punchable?” Silence. 
“Well, no…”
Harry decides to open the door to face him. If he did come here to clock him again, at least (Y/N) will pay attention to him more than the cat. He actually hopes Felix is here to punch him. 
On the other side of the door stand Felix and Laura. They all just kind of stare at each other at first before Laura speaks up. 
“Hi, guys. How are you? We just wanted to check in.” 
(Y/N) is staring at her brother and he’s staring right back. She’s trying to tell him to get lost if he’s going to be a jerk again and she thinks she senses a tiny bit of an apologetic look in his expression. 
“What do you want?” 
“We just made breakfast.” 
Harry and (Y/N) say at the same time. He glanced at her, letting her know that it was okay. Felix hadn’t done or said anything that made him think he was going to hit him again, so he thinks they can come in just for a chat. 
She sighed and opened the door further to let them in. Laura launched into a conversation with Harry about the cat in his arms. She’s really good at that and it gives (Y/N) a minute to silently scrutinize her brother. It’s not like him to not say anything. He’s always got something to say. 
“Hi, (Y/N).” 
“Felix.”  
“I know you’re mad at me—” 
“That’s good. If anyone should be mad, it should be Harry. The poor thing had a bruised nose for two whole weeks, you dick!” She slapped his shoulder. Thinking back on it makes her mad because there was no reason to take it that far. 
“I know. I’m sorry for the way I reacted, I was just a little surprised to see you kissing him right on the street,” He made a disgusted face before shaking his head. “Anyway, I’ve done a lot of thinking and…Harry’s a good guy and I trust him more than anyone to look after you.” 
“And?” She pressed. 
“It might take some time but I’ll get used to it. I’ll try to anyway,” His eyes shifted to Harry. “I’m sorry for hitting you. I hope we’re still cool.” She rolled her eyes at his wording and looked to Harry who was holding Bread to his chest and gently petting over his back. 
“(Y/N)’s my girlfriend now—don’t hit me.” He shielded himself with the cat but Felix just nudged his shoulder. 
“That’s…it’ll take time. Please just don’t do anything weird in front of me quite yet. I’m not ready to see anything else from the two of you.” Felix rubbed the bridge of his nose like the thought absolutely nauseated him. 
“I understand why you did it, Felix. No hard feelings.” Harry and Felix fist bumped making (Y/N) huff. Boys are so weird but if they made up and Harry accepts that as an apology, she’s fine with it. 
“But Laura and I have one request.” Felix looked between the two of them with a smile. 
Laura grasped onto his arm and smiled widely before speaking. “(Y/N), I want you to be my maid of honor. And Harry, we hope you’ll be his best man.” 
(Y/N) didn’t know who Laura chose for her maid of honor but she didn’t think it’d be her. She was in shock for a moment before hugging her tightly. 
“Of course, Laura. Thank you so much.” She squeezed her once before pulling away. Everyone looked to Harry. 
“Like hell she’s walking down the aisle with anyone else. I’ll do it, you don’t have to beg.” Laura hugged Harry, trying to be mindful of Bread and then started talking about the color schemes she wanted to use and when they’d be doing dress fittings and what the menu for the day will be. Her and Felix started bickering like usual about the finer details while Harry and (Y/N) went to get the plates ready for them to eat. 
Standing side by side at the stove, (Y/N) met eyes with Harry and whispered her three new favorite words to him, unable to keep a bright smile off her face when he said them right back after placing a kiss to her cheek. 
(Y/N) loves Sydney to death. But she’s so fucking glad she moved out. 
******
Final part nooo :’( I hope you liked this! Sorry it took twelve years, I’m still trying to get my shit together 🙂
tags: @vamprry @1un4zsq @marzhshaim @sunflowersloverr @tenaciousperfectionunknown @caynonmoondreams @elidoho @peterbenjaminparke07 @daydreamingofmatilda @kissitnhekitchen @amberbambridge @danaehldy @straightontilmornin @forgetdelaney @harrysonlylover @idrawshapesonpeople07 @me-undiscovered @llina01 @80s-outsiders @littlenatilda @outofthisworl-d @butdaddyilovehim-hs @cherrys4suckers @harrystylessslut @sceleratuspoeta @hssunflowervol6 @indierockgirrl @honeyharlows @satellitelh @daphnesutton @tfharries @opheliaofficial07 @hermionelove @nathalielovesonedirection @velvetballaspark @watermelonlover @kathb59 @theofficialprongs @myloveforrreadingspost @harryshousewhore @harrysolaf @szoszi2004 @buckyssbestgirl @ellaorchard @trooooye @daylighthazzz @prettytulips @stylesfever @mayamonroem @fake-coolbeans @boomitsallie1 @whorein4horan @toosarcastic03
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Committed Extra II
Read the rest here: Committed
Based on this ask
I always suggest listening to this TikTok while reading this series but I think they remind me SO much of Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros.
Warnings: 18+, smut, maybe a little more romantic-smut than smut-smut but anyways. Please ignore any continuity errors from previous parts. I couldn't find what I was looking for but it doesn't mean they don't exist. not suitable for Ramadan
~3.2k words
Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.
Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So he was going to devour her body instead.
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Sarah was going to Mitch’s, which meant her place was empty.
Harry didn’t have any clothes or anything, but he didn’t care. There were leftover items between himself and Mitch so as long as they didn’t have to attend a wedding there was an outfit for him the next day.
The car ride was silent. Unless he heard her heartbeat, which was extremely plausible because it was beating so hard. He held her hand, like he had ten thousand times before, but now it was different. Because Harry loved her. Like really loved her. The way she always dreamed of him loving her. Every time she remembered he loved her she squeezed his hand. It brought a smile to his face, and she swore the needle of the speedometer crept up another increment just to get them home faster.
The logistics of the night hadn’t dawned on her until they were in her apartment living room. Silent as Harry locked the door behind him. Nerves started to swim in her bloodstream. They had incredible chemistry, their friendship was solid, she had seen Harry at his worst—sick with the stomach bug that required a complete change of clothes, and he had seen her sweaty and covered with dirt after helping her dad in the backyard.
If the sex was bad, what would it say about their relationship?
It couldn’t be bad, right? She had waited so long to have Harry in her life in this capacity. Friendship was their opener. Saying I love you was the main setlist. Sex was just the encore. It would be fine.
Right?!
“Are y’okay, kitten?” He asked.
“Hmm?”
“You’re ‘bout t’squeeze m’fingers off m’hand,” she released the death grip she had on it. “Tell me,” he ordered, but his voice was soft.
“I’m so nervous.”
“Nervous?” He repeated.
“What if the sex is bad?”
He chuckled. “I highly doubt it will be bad,” he pulled her close, trapping her against his body, cupping the side of her face and kissing her as if he had kissed her in the very spot a thousand times before. “But m’not with you for the sex.”
“Well, I don’t know what you were up to while I was gone but I haven’t had sex in a year and a half so I would like it to be good,” she murmured.
His eyes scanned her face, searching for something. “Y’think I had sex with someone else while y’were gone?” He asked.
She rolled. “That’s what you took away from that?”
“Who did you sleep with a year and a half ago?” He asked ignoring her follow-up question.
“It’s none of your business!”
“Your body s’all mine now,” he said simply. But it set her skin aflame and her heart into a frantic beat that had her worrying she would need an ambulance on standby outside the building. “S’very much m’business,” he murmured.
“Harry,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. “That guy I went out with for like a month?”
“You slept with him?”
“We went out for a month, Harry.”
“But he was awful.”
“You thought everyone I dated was awful.”
“They were,” he said petulantly. She sighed.
“When did you last have sex?” She asked.
“I don’t know, three years ago?” It should have been embarrassing. But it wasn’t. This was his best friend and he didn’t care.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right,” she snorted. “No really, I told you. You have to tell me.”
“M’not kidding kitten,” his voice was firm.
“You haven’t had sex in three years?” She still sounded incredulous, and Harry just stared at her waiting for it to click. Her lips parted. “How...why...?”
“When I realized I was in love with y’kitten,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want t’have sex.”
“So you were just going to...never have sex again?”
He shrugged again. “I hadn’t thought ‘bout it t’be honest.”
It was so quiet in the apartment, not even her rapid heartbeat made a sound. “What if it’s bad? What if I’m bad at it? What if it’s not—”
“Kitten,” he sighed and shook his head. “We were terrible at French, and we took three years of it together. We’ll practice. M’not in love with y’because of sex. Obviously—loved y’before sex was an option. M’in love with you because you’re m’favorite person. M’only person,” he reminded her. “I don’t care about sex.”
It should have relieved her but it didn’t. “I want it to be good,” she whispered.
“I do too, kitten. Trust me. But s’not the end all be all.”
Quiet, surrounded them again. “C’mon,” he hummed and tugged her toward the bedroom. “Jus’ say stop if y’need a minute,” he pulled her jacket off her shoulders and bent to slip her shoes off. She felt like Cinderella. He was so gentle and while she was slightly terrified it would suck and he would realize he hated her, it was normal. Harry getting ready to undress her was normal feeling. It was warm, gentle, and all things that were Harry. She felt safe and maybe finally she realized he was probably right. Sex wouldn’t be bad. “We don’t have t’do this tonight either, kitten.”
“No way, you’ve been waiting three years and I think my vibrator is dead so it’s going to have to work,” she explained.
He groaned quietly, began kissing the length of her neck and making the noise vibrate her skin and veins in a way that nearly made her knees give out. “Well, charge it, because I have t’see that,” his breath was hot on her skin making her dizzy.
They stood and kissed for at least three minutes, her hands tugging at the hair on the back of his head silently begging for him to get closer. It was so quiet in her room she was starting to feel uneasy. “Can we put on some music or something?” She whispered.
“Turn on your radio?” He suggested kissing the curve of her neck and shoulder, taking the collar of her shirt away from her neck.
She shook her head. “I downloaded your music onto a CD, and I love you, but I think fucking to the sound of you and our friends would be a little too much for me.”
He chuckled against her skin forgoing the kisses and pulled his phone from his pocket and set up a random playlist.
Harry’s mouth found hers again and he gently guided her back onto her bed. His fingers started to push her shirt up her torso. She pulled away from his mouth and stilled his hands. “What are you doing?” She asked quickly. He chuckled.
“Trying t’take your shirt off. Do y’want t’stop?”
She shook her head trying to shake the nerves away. “Sorry,” her cheeks reddened.
“S’okay,” he assured her. “S’new, s’gonna be a little weird probably,” he amended.
She swallowed. “I don’t really like my body,” she whispered. “I don’t really talk about that with you...” she reminded him.
She was wrong. She was so beautiful and in Harry’s eyes there wasn’t any reason for her to feel ashamed or insecure about her body. It was perfect, exactly as she was. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “M’gonna make y’feel beautiful or we’re never having sex again,” he chuckled.
She giggled despite herself and nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“M’sure,” he nodded firmly. “M’gonna take m’shirt off first, then.”
“No, don’t do that, that’s not fair,” she stopped his hands before he could tug it over his head. “I can’t take my shirt off after yours.”
He laughed a little louder this time and he kissed her sweetly, pecking at her lips over and over as he pulled away. “We can’t do this without being naked, kitten.”
She took a deep breath, sighed, and pulled her shirt over her head.
Harry had seen her in a bathing suit. He had seen her in skirts that were not suitable for school and a dress that showed off so much of her cleavage he wondered why she didn't just wear a bra instead. The idea of seeing her fully naked was far beyond what he could possibly imagine. It was every one of his fantasies and more.
Harry had no way of getting his hands on her beautiful mind and soul. So, he was going to devour her body instead.
His gaze scanned her upper half for a few moments admiring the tiny little bow on the center of her bra right between her breasts. He kissed the swell of each one every so slightly spilling out of the cup. Her breath caught in her throat and Harry kissed upwards, bringing his lips back to hers and he pulled off his own shirt without any fanfare. Harry often walked around without a shirt, when at the pool or a beach he obviously didn’t wear a shirt. This she was used to. Her hands roamed his body and his skin felt so warm and so nice she couldn’t believe she thought this could be bad.
Harry couldn’t get her zipper down.
She giggled and Harry snorted. “Didn’t know y’were gonna wear a chastity belt, kitten.”
The clasp of her bracelet somehow managed to catch on to the fabric of his boxers a few moments later. “Jesus,” she sighed and brought her face so close to the fabric to work it free Harry turned a bright shade of red, cleared his throat and she realized her hand was resting on his dick to get it undone.
“Oops,” she whispered and pulled back. Harry chuckled softly. Every awkward moment was completed with more kisses that by the time Harry finished struggling with the clasp of her bra, (“I’ve never seen a bra with a snap like this!”  “It’s comfier!”) There were only Harry’s boxers and her underwear between them.
“There’s no going back,” she reminded him.
“I don’t want t’go back,” his voice was thick with the promise.
“Me either,” she whispered.
“Kitten,” he tilted her chin up from her staring at his chest. He brought her gaze back to his. “M’so in love with you. Always.”
She nodded. “I love you too,” she smiled.
He brought his mouth to cover hers again and a new feeling took over. The air was hotter, thicker, like they were moving through a pool of water. His lips never stopped kissing her, his tongue stroking softly against her lip as he did. It made her shiver. He curled closer to her, his hand reaching between them and skimming the outside of her panties. Her breath caught at the touch of his fingers on her suddenly aching center. Harry went back to kissing down her throat, over to the space where the curve of her shoulder met her neck. “Want t’make y’feel so good, kitten,” his voice was husky.
She already thought she was going to come undone from just his fingers touching the outside of her underwear and his throaty whisper. His fingers deftly pulled the fabric to the side, and he slid his finger down through the wetness that had accumulated between her leg. She shivered again and moaned softly again. He hadn’t even done anything. But his fingers were searching. Not for what she felt was aching for him most, but for her clit and he found it so quickly it made her cry out as he skillfully circled the pad of his finger on it not too hard but not too soft. “S’good, baby,” he hummed quietly and continued to kiss her. “You’re nice and wet, kitten. Who’s that for?”
“You,” her voice hardly carried through the whisper.
“Good,” he mumbled and dropped his finger lower, teasing her, because it felt like she was clenching, begging his finger to enter her.
Maybe if she had met Harry that night and hadn’t known his personality so well, she would have been shyer and wouldn’t have had the reaction she did. But part of her felt a little competitive and if he was going to tease her, she wasn’t going to let him enjoy it too much.
She pressed her hand to the outside of his boxers, feeling how hard he was and making him gasp at the touch. His hand stilled between her legs, and she tugged his boxers lower, so his dick escaped the fabric. He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around him. “Kitten,” he grunted into her skin, and she sighed as his fingers continued to circle her clit and search for something that she wasn’t sure Harry was going to find.
“Kitten, I haven’t had sex in three years,” he groaned.
“So...you better get inside me quick?” She suggested.
He groaned again. “Yes,” he nodded against her collarbone. “Please,” he almost whined. “Condom?” She nodded and pointed to her nightstand drawer.
She couldn’t disagree. Harry had double the time on her since her last intimate moment, but she wanted him so badly in her she thought if they waited any longer, she would cry. She removed her underwear and Harry sat up to remove his boxers.
Of course, she just finished feeling how big, hard, and long he was. But it was another thing entirely to see his length literally in the flesh. “Did y’jus’ gulp?”
Her cheeks warmed. “You’re...big,” she murmured.
He snorted putting the condom in place. “Y’know how t’give a guy an ego,” but she could see the way his cheeks pinked.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just...I want it,” she caught his gaze and as awkward as everything felt, looking into the pretty green eyes of her best friend, this was not. “I want everything with you.”
Harry’s gaze softened and he dropped his hips between her legs and caught her lips again. The sound of gentle music, their tangled breath, and the skin-to-skin contact was the only noise in the room. Harry reached between them again and slid the head of his cock along the wetness that pooled between her legs again. She moaned, loudly and without abandon. Harry grunted and pushed himself inside her.
It was like sliding the final puzzle piece together. They locked into a position that felt so right, so perfect, every bit of that awkwardness went away as quickly as it appeared. Harry groaned and buried his face in her neck again. It was his new favorite spot, tucked into the curve that smelled like her perfume and her hair. It was entirely her, and so perfect. “Fuck, kitten,” he grunted letting her have a minute to stretch to accommodate his body. It had been a while since there was a dick inside her and despite how wet Harry made her it didn’t help the ache that started as he settled perfectly between her thighs.
“Oh my God,” she whispered breathlessly. “Wow,” she mumbled.
Harry focused on breathing deeply so he wouldn’t burst the second one of them shifted. “We can jus’ stay like this,” he murmured. “Nothing else, for the rest of our lives.”
She kissed the side of his head and nodded. “Yes, please.”
He pulled back slightly, his body readjusted to the feeling and his gaze was hungry as he looked her in the eye. “You are my everything,” he whispered.
Her heart fluttered, as good as Harry’s body felt inside her, it was nothing in comparison to the way his words touched her. “I love you,” she whispered because everything else she thought to say seemed inadequate.
He smiled and brought his mouth to hers, kissed her deeply and started to move.
It felt fast and slow at the same time. A juxtaposition that she didn’t know was possible. Every time Harry’s hips pushed from hers to create a heavenly friction, she followed him begging for him to come back. It felt like being apart from him, even the inch he moved to make everything feel better, was too much. She thought if it felt any better, she would cry.
“Fuck,” he groaned pumping into her at a steady rhythm. Her hands searched his body, the length of his back, digging her nails into his hips to keep him close to her. His hands held her hips in place so he was able to provide the right leverage that angled his cock, so it hit every right spot.
“Baby,” she moaned into his neck and kissed his skin. He groaned again in response. He twisted her as if he had done it about a thousand times and suddenly, she was on top of him. Pressing her hands onto his chest and moving her hips up and down so she was gliding rhythmically up and down his length.
“This was a horrible idea,” he moaned. “M’gonna finish jus’ looking at you.”
She blushed, covered her face with one hand, and laughed lightly. “It feels so good,” she whispered. “I don’t want to leave this bed.”
Harry brought her body close, one hand cupping the back of her neck and other slid down her back, gripping her butt. “We don’t have to,” his voice was hungry and he sealed his lips between hers.
“I’m going to...” she bit the inside of her lip and buried her face into his neck again. “Oh my God,” she moaned.
Harry answered her moan with his own again and met each of her thrusts with his hips. “S’good, kitten. Fuck,” he sighed. “Wanted this for so long,” he brought her mouth. “Can’t wait for you t’cum all over me and then do it all over again,” he groaned.
His voice made her ache all over. She was already aching. She wanted to stay like this for the rest of her life. Maybe longer if it was allowed.
She had a vibrator and she had sex enough times to know when she was going to have a good orgasm. But this was nothing like that.
This was so much more. The connection she felt to Harry the adoration and love she felt was more than any tingling, body shaking reaction she ever had when Harry thrusted into her just so. “Oh there, there, there,” she begged and dropped her face to his neck again with a heavy sigh.
“M’here, kitten,” he promised holding her close to him. “Right there,” he repeated thrusting as she rode through the toe-curling, body shaking orgasm. He nipped at her shoulder as he finished. Sighing heavily she dropped to him fully, her body warm, and he kissed her forehead. He brushed her hair down kissed her again. “Gotta get off, kitten,” he murmured.
“I already did,” she mumbled back.
He chuckled. “Just two minutes, kitten,” he assured her. “I love you,” he whispered. She sighed deeply, rolled to the side and let Harry get out of bed quickly. When he returned from the bathroom she was sprawled across the bed facedown. “You okay, m’love?” He asked.
She nodded. “I love you too, Harry.”
He chuckled, wrapping himself around her like a koala bear. “Good.”
“Wanna do it again?” She asked.
He laughed and kissed along her back. “Already?” He asked.
“Gotta make-up for all that lost time. And three years, Harry!”
He smiled against her skin. “Give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need. We have forever now.”
--
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unabashegirl · 4 hours
Text
Lycan 12
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Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is forced to return to the town where she was born for extraordinary reasons. Her father is extremely sick and on the verge of passing away. Alsfield has changed and is far from what she remembers and even though she lived in town until her high school graduation she barely recognizes it. The town hides a big secret from a few individuals that live in it including Y/N. The man who maintains the town's secret and protects it is no other than Harry Styles. Things take a sudden twist when they meet. Numerous things will impede Y/N from returning to San Francisco to her somewhat ordinary life, will she be able to abandon the town that she had successfully escaped the first time? What is the big secret that the townspeople are hiding, and what is Y/N's role in it? Who is Harry? Where does he come from? Had she met him before? And what does he want from her?
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wordcount: 2.8
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Niall's knuckles rapped on the wooden double doors of the Alpha's office, and a moment of tense silence followed. Y/N watched, her curiosity mixed with apprehension, as Niall slowly pushed the doors open without waiting for a verbal response.
The office was grand and spacious, with a massive wooden desk positioned near a giant window that offered a commanding view of the surrounding territory. The Alpha, the enigmatic leader of the Shadow Pack, stood with his back to the newcomers, gazing out at the landscape.
Y/N felt her heart race as she took in the scene. She had been waiting to meet the Alpha, but what she hadn't expected was the identity of the man before her. It was Harry, the mayor of the nearby town, the same man she had met on that foggy beach.
Her confusion deepened, and she instinctively moved closer to Niall, seeking comfort in his presence. She wondered how the mayor of the town was connected to the mysterious world of the pack, and what secrets he held.
Niall cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Alpha," he began respectfully, "I've brought Y/N, as you requested."
Harry, the Alpha, slowly turned around, his gaze settling on Y/N. There was an intensity in his eyes, a depth of emotion that left her both intrigued and uneasy.
Y/N's surprise upon discovering that Harry, the mayor of the nearby town and the man she had grown fond of, was the Alpha of the Shadow Pack was beyond words. It felt like a revelation that turned her world upside down.
Her feelings were a whirlwind of emotions. On one hand, there was a sense of betrayal that Harry hadn't shared this monumental secret with her. On the other, there was a strange mix of awe and attraction to the powerful figure before her. She had admired him as the mayor, but now she saw a different, more complex side to him.
She couldn't help but feel conflicted, torn between her desire to understand this new reality and the sense of longing that had grown between her and the Alpha. The fact that Harry had used Niall to bring her here without revealing his true identity left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Harry, the Alpha, studied her with a penetrating gaze, seemingly aware of the turmoil within her. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft and measured. "Y/N, I know this is a lot to take in, and I apologize for not revealing the truth sooner. There are reasons for the secrecy, reasons that I hope you will come to understand in time."
Y/N remained silent, her mind racing with questions and emotions. She couldn't deny the pull she felt toward Harry, but she also couldn't ignore the fact that her life had taken an unexpected turn, plunging her into a world she had never imagined existed.
As Niall turned to leave the Alpha's office, believing his task was completed by safely bringing Y/N into the pack territory, Harry's commanding voice stopped him in his tracks. The sheer power behind Harry's command made the very walls of the office seem to tremble.
"Get back here now."
Niall swallowed hard, realizing that he wasn't off the hook just yet. He had brought Y/N into the territory, but she wasn't unharmed. The fact that she had needed medical attention hadn't gone unnoticed by Harry. It was clear that the Alpha had sensed her condition.
Reluctantly, Niall turned back and walked toward Harry, his expression a mix of guilt and resignation. He knew that a confrontation was imminent, and he couldn't escape the consequences of his actions.
Harry's eyes bore into Niall's, and the air in the room grew tense as they prepared for what came next. Y/N's presence had set in motion a series of events that neither of them had anticipated, and the pack's Alpha was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Harry's piercing gaze remained fixed on Niall as he demanded an explanation for what had happened to Y/N. Niall, feeling the weight of the situation, cleared his throat before giving his account of the events.
"She fainted," Niall admitted, his voice steady but tinged with unease. "It happened right after I transformed into my wolf."
Harry's expression remained inscrutable as he absorbed this information. He was clearly concerned about Y/N's well-being and the impact of Niall's actions on her. "Is she all right now?" Harry asked, his voice softer, showing a hint of genuine worry.
Niall nodded. "Yes, Alpha. Michaela examined her and prescribed some medication. She should be recovering."
Harry let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm glad to hear that she's getting the care she needs." Then, his gaze hardened as he turned his attention back to Niall. "But I trusted you to keep her safe, Niall. I trusted you with her well-being."
Niall bowed his head in acknowledgment, fully aware of the gravity of his failure. He had let his Alpha down, and there would undoubtedly be consequences for his actions.
Y/N, who had been quietly listening to the conversation between Harry and Niall, finally spoke up. Her voice carried a hint of frustration as she addressed them both.
"Hey," she said, her tone firm, "you guys are acting as if I’m painted on the wall. I am right here”
Both Harry and Niall turned their attention to Y/N, realizing that they had been preoccupied with their own concerns. Harry's expression softened as he regarded her, while Niall looked relieved that she had spoken up.
"You're right, Y/N," Harry conceded, his voice gentler now. "This concerns you, and you deserve to have your questions answered. Please, have a seat. Niall you are dismissed. We’ll talk later”
With a nod from Harry, Niall quietly left the Alpha's office, leaving Y/N alone with the enigmatic leader of the Shadow Pack. As the door closed behind Niall, Y/N felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. She was finally getting the chance to have her questions answered, but the mystery surrounding Harry's dual identity still hung heavily in the air.
Harry walked around his desk and leaned against it, his gaze never leaving Y/N. He understood the weight of the secrets that had been kept from her and recognized that it was time for some clarity.
"Y/N," he began, his voice calm, "where would you like to start? I know you must have many questions, and I'm here to provide you with as much information as I can."
Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing with inquiries. She had so much she wanted to ask, but she decided to start with the basics. "First, can you explain what all of this is? The pack, the hierarchy, the wolves... It's all so overwhelming."
Harry nodded, appreciating her desire to understand the fundamentals. "Of course," he replied. "Let's begin with the basics. The pack is essentially a family of sorts, but we're not like ordinary families. We're bound by more than blood; we're bound by a shared transformation, a shared existence as wolves."
He paused, giving her a moment to absorb this information before continuing. "Within the pack, there's a hierarchical structure. I'm the Alpha, the leader. Beneath me, there are Betas, like Niall, who assist in maintaining order and ensuring the pack's well-being. And then there are Omegas, who play vital roles too. Each member has their place and responsibilities within the pack."
Y/N listened intently, trying to wrap her head around the concept. "And the wolves?" she asked. "Are they... real wolves?"
Harry smiled, a hint of warmth in his eyes. "Yes, they are real wolves. We're a unique breed, descendants of an ancient line. We have the ability to transform between our human and wolf forms. It's part of our nature, our heritage."
Y/N nodded, beginning to piece together the puzzle. "But why the secrecy?" she asked. "Why not reveal this to the world?"
Harry's expression turned somber. "There are dangers, Y/N. Not everyone would understand or accept us. Our existence has been kept hidden to protect us from those who would seek to exploit or harm us. It's a complex world, and the truth can be a double-edged sword."
Y/N mulled over his words, realizing that this revelation was just the tip of the iceberg. There were still many more questions to be asked, but she felt a newfound sense of clarity and determination. She was ready to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Shadow Pack and the enigmatic Alpha who led it.
Y/N's curiosity burned brighter than ever as she delved further into the mysteries surrounding the Shadow Pack. She leaned forward in her chair, eager to learn more, and posed her next question to Harry.
"Can you tell me about the history of the pack, where it all began?" she asked.
Harry nodded, acknowledging her thirst for knowledge. He began to recount the story of the pack's origins.
"Our history is deeply intertwined with the untamed wilderness of this region," Harry began. "Generations ago, our ancestors lived in harmony with the wolves of the forest. They had a connection to the land and the creatures that inhabited it, unlike anything seen in the modern world."
Y/N listened intently as Harry continued, his voice carrying the weight of history. "As time passed, our ancestors discovered that they had a unique gift—a gift that allowed them to become one with the wolves. They could transform, harnessing the strength and instincts of the creatures they coexisted with."
The Alpha's eyes took on a distant look as he continued, "This gift came with responsibilities. Our ancestors formed the first pack, vowing to protect both the human and wolf sides of their nature. They forged a bond with the wolves, ensuring that our two species would live in harmony."
Y/N was captivated by the tale, her mind racing to grasp the enormity of the history Harry was sharing with her. "What happened next?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Harry's gaze locked with hers, his eyes reflecting the weight of centuries. "Over time, our kind faced threats from those who feared our abilities. We were hunted, persecuted, and driven to the brink of extinction. To survive, we went into hiding, living in secret packs, always wary of discovery."
He paused, letting the gravity of their history sink in. "The Shadow Pack, the largest and most powerful of our kind on the West Coast, traces its lineage back to those early days. We've held onto our traditions, our connection to the wilderness, and our duty to protect our kind."
Y/N was overwhelmed by the depth of the story she had just heard. It was a history that defied belief, and yet, here she was, sitting in the midst of it all. She realized that she had only scratched the surface and that the secrets of the Shadow Pack ran deeper than she could have ever imagined.
As Harry finished recounting their history, Y/N couldn't help but feel a growing connection to this hidden world. There was much more to discover, and she was determined to uncover every secret, no matter how enigmatic or perilous it might be.
Y/N leaned forward, her eyes focused on Harry, eager for answers to the questions that had filled her mind. "Harry," she began, "how did your pack manage to build this town in such a secluded place? It's all so... remarkable."
Harry nodded, recognizing the natural curiosity that had drawn Y/N into their world. "Building this town was a long and carefully orchestrated process," he explained. "We chose this remote location to remain hidden from those who might wish to expose us or exploit our abilities. Over time, our pack members, both human and wolf, used their unique skills and resources to construct what you see today."
Y/N marveled at the dedication and effort that must have gone into creating the hidden town. It was a testament to the pack's commitment to their way of life.
As she absorbed this information, she couldn't help but recall Michaela's words. "When Michaela hugged me earlier," Y/N said, "she mentioned that she was glad they found me. What did she mean by that?"
Harry's expression softened, and he regarded her with a knowing look. "Michaela was referring to the concept of mates," he said. "In our world, finding one's mate is a rare and cherished occurrence. It's a deep and profound connection that goes beyond mere romantic love. When mates find each other, it's a cause for celebration and joy within the pack."
Y/N's heart raced at the implication of Harry's words. "Mates? What do you mean by that?"
Harry took a moment to choose his words carefully. "Mates are two souls destined to be together," he explained. "When they meet, there's an undeniable connection, a bond that goes beyond words. It's a profound and irrevocable link, and it often brings a sense of completeness to those who experience it."
Y/N tried to process this revelation, her mind swirling with questions. "What does it have to do with me?
"Because, Y/N, you're my mate."
Silence hung in the room, broken only by the faint hum of distant voices from the packhouse below. Y/N felt as though time had come to a standstill. She couldn't process what she had just heard.
"You're my mate," Harry repeated, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and anticipation.
Y/N's heart raced, and a thousand questions rushed to her mind. She stammered, "I... I don't understand. What does that mean?"
Harry stepped closer, his presence warm and reassuring. "It means that we share a unique bond, one that transcends time and space. Mates are connected on a profound level, emotionally and spiritually. We're meant to be together."
Y/N was still struggling to grasp the enormity of the revelation. "But why me? Why now?"
Harry sighed, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "The timing is... unusual. We usually discover our mates earlier in life, but sometimes fate has other plans. As for 'why you,' I believe it's because you have a role to play in our pack, a destiny that's intertwined with mine."
He gently cupped Y/N's face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You're not just any mate, Y/N. You're the Luna—the leader of the pack, my partner in every sense. Together, we'll guide our pack and protect our kind."
Y/N felt overwhelmed by the weight of her newfound role and the connection she shared with Harry. It was a revelation that defied logic and reason, yet she couldn't deny the intense emotions welling up within her. A mixture of fear, curiosity, and a strange sense of destiny filled her.
She looked into Harry's eyes, searching for answers. "What now? What does this mean for us?"
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freedomfireflies · 4 months
Text
Knockout*
Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.
Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)
Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence
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Your stranger is here.
He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.
He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.
And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.
A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.
He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.
Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.
You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.
You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is. 
“Hi, Cherry.”
Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring. 
You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.
Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.
“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”
Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”
“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”
“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”
“As much as you want.”
He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”
You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.
Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”
“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.
And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”
“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”
Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different. 
So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.
“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”
And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy. 
“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.
Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”
“Good. Better now.”
The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles. 
“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you. 
There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”
You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”
Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall. 
“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”
Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”
It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him. 
“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”
“Are you?”
He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”
“Why?”
He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”
It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.
But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.
He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”
“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”
He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”
You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one. 
“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”
Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”
“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”
Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”
“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”
“Is that right?”
“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”
The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him. 
He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.
That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.
He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.
And from that night on, you became his Cherry.
He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.
And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:
He always pays with big bills.
He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.
And his name is Harry.
Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.
“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back. 
You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”
“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”
Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”
“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”
You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”
However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”
His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner. 
You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”
You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”
“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”
The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.
“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”
Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”
You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.
You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.
Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.
“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”
Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck. 
Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.
“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”
“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”
The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.
“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.
But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”
Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.
You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.
“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”
And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”
Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”
“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”
“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”
His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.
The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.
Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied. 
And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.
Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request. 
Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.
With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.
However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”
But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.
The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.
“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”
And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.
All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.
There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.
You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.
“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”
“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”
Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.
“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”
Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”
Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”
“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”
“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"
Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.
“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”
With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.
 But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.
He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.
 And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.
Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.
You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante. 
Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down. 
“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.
“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”
You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.
And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”
“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”
“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”
He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”
He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly. 
“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”
It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”
“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”
And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.
And truth be told…you think he already knows.
His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.
“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”
“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”
“Oh…how?”
His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”
“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”
The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting. 
But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe. 
You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.
“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”
A beat. Then, “…every night.”
The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.
And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.
But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.
It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.
And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in. 
Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.
It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.
It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.
“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”
You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.
“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”
A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.
“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”
You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.
And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.
“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”
And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else. 
“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”
He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit. 
“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”
He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.
“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”
You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like. 
Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.
His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside. 
“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”
You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”
“Promise?”
“Mhm. Promise.”
The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”
He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.
Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him. 
You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.
Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.
Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.
“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”
Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips. 
They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable. 
Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs. 
Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.
But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.
But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer. 
“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”
You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.
Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.
He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”
You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”
He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”
Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.
When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs. 
“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”
He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.
And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.
He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly. 
He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”
“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”
His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you. 
You’ve never been so happy in your life.
He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.
His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds. 
You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.
“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”
You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.
The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier. 
“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”
It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.
He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows. 
It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.
He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.
Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.
And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”
“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”
You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.
“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”
He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him. 
You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”
You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles. 
The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.
And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.
You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.
Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.
By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good. 
He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.
Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.  
“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”
The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.
But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated. 
He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.
He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.
He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum. 
You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.
Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.
Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.
He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.   
Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart. 
You’d keep him forever if you could.
You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.
“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”
And you know he will.
“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”
You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.
Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”
You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.
He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”
You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”
“Is that right?”
Another shake. “Get bored.”
“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”
Now you nod, making a noise of agreement. 
He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”
You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.
“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”
And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out. 
“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”
“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer. 
“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”
He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.
The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.
You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”
And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.
Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.
Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.
His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.
“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”
And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater. 
“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”
“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”
And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out. 
You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you. 
Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"
And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.
“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”
And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.
But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”
“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”
“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”
“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”
“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”
You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.
He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”
Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.
But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.
He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?” 
That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie. 
“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”
Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.
He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.
This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle. 
And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort. 
When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”
You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.
“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”
You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.
“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”
He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.
“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”
And you decide you like the sound of that.
Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.
He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”
You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.
You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence. 
You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall. 
You hope one day you get to find out. 
“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”
You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.
“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”
You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.
“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”
He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you. 
His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”
He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.
“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”
The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.
“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”
The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you. 
“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”
And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.
But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye. 
“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”
And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.
“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”
The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.
But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.
He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.
After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.
“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”
Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm. 
And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”
“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”
His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”
“I’m…trying. I think.”
“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”
His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.
You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour. 
It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”
With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”
This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”
“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”
His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”
It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.
But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.
His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”
You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”
Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”
And you choose to believe him.
You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.
A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.
You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.
When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.
But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.
But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06. 
Your stranger isn’t here.
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I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞
Next Part:
~ Whiplash*
~ Main Masterlist
~ Blurb Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge
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stylesloveclub · 8 months
Text
sunshine (part 1)
In which Harry's a dick and y/n is a virgin who cries a lot.
˙· .° 。  ˚ 。  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° 。 ˚ 。  ° . · ˙ · .° 。 ˚ 。 °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  
Y/n wonders if she thinks too highly of herself.
She thinks she’s pretty. Not in an obnoxious, self-obsessed way! She knows she’s not a supermodel, and she definitely has a lot of days where she looks and feels totally dead – but at the end of the day, she’s not hideous. She splurges on pretty makeup products, does her hair in the mornings, spends a decent amount of time planning out cute outfits… you know, little things to make herself feel pretty!
She brushes her teeth twice a day, showers regularly, flosses. Wears pretty perfumes that smell like flowers and lip gloss that tastes like strawberries. There’s a stash of gum in her bag that she’s always chewing on, so she knows she doesn’t have bad breath; and she carries an extra deodorant in her backpack too, so you can’t tell her she’s repulsive or anything like that. 
She’s kind. She smiles at strangers and always laughs at people’s jokes (even if they aren’t funny)— holds the elevator door open and says a polite “good morning” or “hello!” with her happy, cheery voice. And even though she’s a bit shy, she tries her best to spread love and kindness in the world. It just makes her happy to make other people happy!
Plus, being nice means that everyone else is nicer to you. So even if she’s in a bad mood, she’ll fake a smile and pretend like she’s happy y/n.
But, she wonders... if she has all of these amazing qualities– if she really is as pretty and kind and wonderful as she makes herself out to be– then why hasn’t she been kissed yet?
She loves her friends, of course she does! But how is she so different from them? Why do all of her friends get asked out on dates and have amazing boyfriends while she’s still a lonely virgin who hasn’t even been kissed yet? 
It’s not like she’s this super virginal person who gets grossed out by boys! She wants to be kissed, she wants to get fucked! She’s toyed around with the idea of just downloading tinder and losing it all to some stranger in one night stand, but her romantic heart just can’t stand the thought of it. 
Yes, she’s desperate… but she’s also romantic. Love is on her mind 24/7. It’s what she thinks about before she falls asleep, what she daydreams about whenever she gets bored. She could spend hours with a romance novel, hyper fixating on the little things that most people wouldn’t blink an eye at. The way the boy’s hand cupped the girl’s jaw while they kissed, or how their fingers brushed as they walked down the street. Little things like forehead kisses and prolonged glances across a room. 
She craves it for herself, desperately aches for the affection that she reads of. She wants to rest her head on someone’s chest and listen to their heartbeat as she falls asleep, feel their fingers playing with her hair, or their lips skimming her cheek. Wants to laugh under the covers and share secrets and be vulnerable and in love. She wants it more than anything in the world! 
And yet, she hasn’t even been kissed! 
Everyone else seems to do it so easily – find a nice guy, go out on a date, and fall in love. So why is it so hard for her? Her friends tell her that she's the prettiest and sweetest girl out there, and that the right guy simply hasn’t come around yet… but y/n can’t help but think, is any of it true?
Is she even that pretty? Is she actually likable?
What’s wrong with her?
˙· .° 。  ˚ 。  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° 。 ˚ 。  ° . · ˙ · .° 。 ˚ 。 °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  
Harry hates these stupid college parties.
They’re loud and stuffy, with way too many people crammed into one room for his liking. The alcohol is cheap, the music is annoying. The entire apartment smells like weed, and there’s not even a secluded corner for him to mope around in without some group of drunk girls completely invading his personal space. Everything about these parties sucks.
If he could, he’d leave. But he’s meant to give a ride home to his roomie Blake, and Blake’s currently hooking up with the host of this party. 
So Harry’s stuck here. Great. 
He checks his phone, and it’s nearly midnight. Blake should be done soon, right? The blonde girl who’s been talking to him for the past 20 minutes is getting awfully close, her hand trailing on his biceps and migrating towards his chest, and she’s blinking up at him with fluttery bambi eyes. 
Any other night and Harry might be into whatever this girl is hinting at, but he’s 100% sober and 100% not in the mood to hook up with a girl who’s taken one too many shots. He grabs the girl's hands and peels them off of his chest gently, muttering something about needing to use the restroom (he doesn’t even need to use the bathroom, he just needs a minute away from the pounding music). 
He sends her off in the direction of her friends, who are giggling to each other in a corner across the room and not-so-inconspicuously checking to see if their friend has managed to successfully get with Harry. He’s sure they’ve realized that he rejected her when they all glare at him. Sorry to disappoint, he thinks to himself. 
He’s nearly positive that any bathrooms in this shitty college apartment will probably be occupied, either with someone throwing up all the drinks they’ve had or with a couple hooking up. But no harm in trying anyway. 
The first door that he tries to open is locked. The second door opens up to reveal a coat closet. 
The third door however, opens up to a bedroom. 
The walls are decorated with posters and pictures, fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, and tiny pots of succulents placed all over the room… but the one thing that stands out the most is the overwhelming number of books scattered all over the room. There’s a bookshelf on each wall, cluttered with books of all colors and sizes. Stacks of books lie on the nightstand by the bed, a stray book sits on top of a dresser, and a pile of new, untouched books sits pristinely in the far right corner of the room. 
Books, books, and more books all over the room. And, a book in the hands of a girl sitting quietly in her bed, staring at Harry. 
Dressed in a hoodie and some fuzzy pj pants, the book that she’d once held up closely to her face now rests on her lap as she blinks up at this strange intruder. She sits upright, closing the book but sticking her finger between the pages so that she doesn’t lose her place. “Um… hi?” she says quietly. 
He steps into the room, and looks at her blankly. “Hi.” She blinks at him. “S’this room taken?” he asks.
“Um. Well,” she looks at him curiously. “No, I guess not.” 
“Okay, good,” he responds, quickly closing the door behind him. He sits on a spinny chair that he pulls out from under a desk and leans his head back, letting out a deep sigh of relief. 
The girl, with her finger still lodged between her book, stares at him confused. Who is this guy? 
He’s cute, and she’s mildly embarrassed that he’s come into her room when she’s looking so… sleepy. But he also seems kinda grumpy and is obviously not in the mood to talk. He’s leaning back in her chair and closing his eyes, gently rubbing his temples as if he’s meditating. 
She observes him with wide eyes. Then after a minute of silence she awkwardly picks her book back up and tries to resume reading. 
Kinda hard to do with some random guy sitting in her bedroom, though. 
In this secluded bedroom, the sound of the music has decreased dramatically. Harry’s pounding headache starts to fade away, and he feels himself start to relax for the first time since he arrived at this stupid party. He looks around the room that he so luckily stumbled into. 
The desk in front of him is, to no surprise, cluttered with more books. A laptop is plugged in in front of him, and there’s a cup full of colorful pens and markers sitting against the wall. Hanging on the wall is a string of pictures starring the same girl with different groups of people. 
He looks at the pictures hanging from the walls. Then he looks back at the girl laying in the bed. 
“S’this your room?” he asks, finally connecting the dots.
She looks up from the book again and nods. 
“Oh,” he hums, surprised. He supposes he should’ve realized it as soon as he walked in. Girl in a room full of books, reading a book. Face clean of all makeup, snuggled up in a blanket, nice and comfy as though she’s just about ready for bed. It’s a bit silly that he only made the connection once he saw her pictures up on the walls. “Why aren’t you out there partying?” 
“Um… not really my scene,” she says, closing the book and looking at Harry properly. Her nose scrunches up, “And it smells really bad in there.”
“Jesus, tell me about it,” he groans. “Could hardly breathe in there. In fact–” he says, already standing up, “d’ya mind if we open up a window? Still feels stuffy in here.” 
She shows no resistance as he slides the window open, accepting the fact that she’d be sharing her room with this stranger until the party was over. Harry sticks his head out and takes a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. Much better than the sweaty, smoky, sickly smell going on inside the apartment. 
When he turns back around, the girl has rearranged herself. She sits criss-crossed on her bed and looks up at Harry, fidgeting nervously with her lip bitten between her teeth. 
She’s kind of cute. 
Harry breaks the silence again. “I think your roommate is hooking up with my roommate right now.” 
“Oh.” She blinks. “Is your roommate Blake?” 
He nods.
“Yeah, Maddie’s been saying that she, um… you know,” she looks down at her hands as they play with a loose thread on the hem of her pants. “Wants to hook up with him or whatever.” 
He nods his head, leaning back against her wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. As refreshing as the air is, the night time breeze is cold. 
“No offense,” he says, “But you don’t seem like you’d be friends with Maddie.” Maddie (y/n’s roommate) has jet black hair, wears heavy eyeliner and black lipstick everyday, and is at least a little bit high 90% of the time. Y/n, in comparison, has flowery bed sheets, a stuffed bunny tucked in next to her, and is hiding in her bedroom while a party being thrown in her own apartment. 
She just smiles softly. “Yeah, we met online. But she’s really nice.” 
He raises his eyebrow. “She seems like a bitch.” 
She defends her roommate immediately. “She’s not a bitch!” But then she thinks about it for a second. Maddie can definitely come off a bit… harsh at times. “Well… she’s usually really nice to me, at least.” 
That makes sense. It would be very hard to be mean to this girl, he imagines. She’s too nice. It would be like being mean to a puppy or something. 
Good thing Harry isn’t mean. He’s just… a bit of a grump. 
She taps her fingers against the cover of her book awkwardly, staring at Harry as he looks up to her ceiling and closes his eyes. He just wants to be in his bed right now. 
After a few more minutes of silence, Harry pushes himself off the wall. “I think Blake should be done,” he says, checking the time on his phone. “I’m going to leave now.” 
“Okay,” says the girl quietly. She watches as he leaves with a nod of his head, and shuts the door behind him. 
That was weird, she thinks. 
Whatever, though. She opens her book and forgets about it. 
+++
Don’t people say that drowsy driving is just as bad as drunk driving? What constitutes drowsy driving? Should y/n even be out on the road right now?
She doesn’t know. All she knows is that Maddie woke her up with a phone call at 2 AM, asking if y/n would come pick her up from Blake’s apartment cause she was too high to get back on her own and she doesn’t want to stay the night there. 
Y/n, being the sweetheart that she is, obviously wants her roommate to get back safe. So she’s in her car, at 2 AM, yawning every three seconds as she drives to the location Maddie sent her.
She texts Maddie from the car, but Maddie doesn’t respond. She calls her, then sends another text, but still no answer. After 10 minutes of no response, she goes up to the door and knocks. 
Maddie doesn’t answer. Instead, it’s Harry.
His eyebrows furrow as recognizes the girl from that party he’d been at two weeks ago. She looks just as comfortable as she did then, in a big pink hoodie and a pair of sweats. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice confused and his eyes doubting. Not many people come knocking at his door at 2 AM.
Unlike y/n, who looks like she just rolled out of bed and drove here (that is exactly what she did), Harry looks like he’s been up all night (he’s been playing COD). He’s not wearing a shirt and has a pair of sweats slung low on his hips, showing off a chiseled abdomen that acts as a canvas for a multitude of pretty tattoos. Y/n finds herself staring at the swallows that lie under his collarbones, the butterfly painted above his stomach, and the ferns lining a yummy pair of v-lines that point downwards… she swallows thickly and forces herself to look away. 
“Um,” she covers her mouth as she yawns, hiding her cold fingers with the sleeves of her hoodie, “Maddie needed me to drive her home.” She blinks sleepily, and can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed that she looks so dead.
“It’s 2 in the morning,” he scoffs. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
She blinks sleepily again. “I was.” 
Harry rolls his eyes. If it were him, he would not have gotten up and driven all the way over here. Someone else’s problems are not enough to get him out of bed. But, this girl… she’s too nice. 
He leaves her at the door and goes to Blake’s room, pounding on the door rudely. “Hey!” he yells, irritation evident in his tone, “your roommate’s here.” 
He hears a bit of shuffling, before Maddie stumbles out of Blake’s room, makeup askew and clothing only half on. She giggles up at Harry and apologizes playfully, but he just glares at her. Her eyes are glazed over and the whites of her eyes bloodshot, very obviously high if the way she couldn’t walk straight wasn’t enough of an indication. 
He feels bad for the stupid girl who drove all the way over here in the middle of the night because her roommate wanted to get high.
Maddie trips over her own feet and falls into y/n, who uses all of her strength to keep her roommate upright and walks her slowly down to the car. “Are you feeling okay?” Harry hears her ask quietly. He scoffs to himself.
He doesn’t get it. How the fuck has this girl not lost her shit? Her irresponsible roommate woke her up at 2 am and made her drive all the way to some stranger’s house, and yet she still manages to be so… gentle. So kind, to someone who barely even deserves it. So caring, to someone who seems to care so little. 
As y/n helps Maddie get into the car, she looks back up to the apartment and sees Harry watching them from the doorstep. They make eye contact for a few seconds, his eyebrows furrowed as he leans against the doorframe. His gaze makes her heart stutter, a chill running down her spine. He looks… upset. Almost like he’s mad at her.
It makes her frown. She wants to say something to him, apologize for ruining his night… but then Maddie sticks her head out of the car and vomits. 
Harry shakes his head and turns away. 
That girl is too nice for her own good. 
+++
“Hey.” Blake pokes his head into Harry’s room, where Harry’s busy playing a round on his computer, “Do you mind if Maddie and her friend come over?”
“Don’t care,” Harry mumbles, uninterested, not looking away from his game. 
“Sick,” he turns around to go back into his own room, but stops when Harry suddenly pauses his game and calls out to him.
“Who’s the friend?” Harry asks, turning around. 
“Y/n,” Blake answers. Harry stares at him, his brows furrowed. The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Her roommate.” 
“That quiet girl?” Harry clarifies.
“Yeah, that one.” 
Oh. So her name was y/n. 
Good to know. 
+++
It’s dark out when Harry finally turns off his game, sliding his headset off and stretching his back. He lets out a long groan as he feels his spine crack, a delicious feeling after being hunched over his controller for three hours straight. 
Standing up, he scratches at his stomach lazily, throwing his headset onto his chair. His arms feel a bit sore, having been to the gym earlier that day, and his hair is still wet from when he showered. He puts on a sweatshirt, finding his apartment too cold to be roaming around shirtless, and heads to the kitchen to find something to eat. 
He stops in his tracks when he finds y/n sitting in his living room all alone. 
She’s got a book in her hands, a thick, worn-out novel that looks older than herself. She’s sitting comfortably on their couch with her legs tucked underneath her butt, so engulfed in whatever she’s reading that she doesn’t even realize that she’s not alone anymore. 
It’s the first time he’s ever seen her outside of her sleep attire. She’s wearing a pair of loose, comfy looking corduroy pants, and a tight top that cuts off just below her ribs. Her chest rises and falls steadily, eyes skimming across the pages of her book so quickly that he wonders if she’s actually absorbing any of the words or not. She chews on her lip as she reads, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 
When Harry finally speaks, it makes her jump in her place. “Where are Blake and Maddie?”
Her book nearly falls out of her hands as she whips her head around. When she sees it’s him, she relaxes. “Oh. Um,”  she sits upright, closing her book, “They’re in his room.”
He nods slowly, squinting his eyes. There’s no nice way to ask his next question, so he just spits it out bluntly. “Why’d you come over if you’re just sitting out here while they hook up?” 
She tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, feeling a little shy under his intimidating gaze. “Maddie was my ride to campus today. And she wanted to stop by here before we went home.” She shrugs quietly, “So I kinda had no choice.”
He huffs. Of course. 
Y/n says that Maddie’s nice, but Harry really doesn’t like her. How weird is it to drag your friend somewhere just to have them sit alone while you go hook up with someone? 
“How long have you guys been here?” he asks.
“Like, an hour.”
“So you’ve been sitting around doing nothing for an hour?”
She pouts. “I had my book.”
He blinks. She just sat here reading for an hour, while her roommate abandoned her to go hookup with Blake… and she’s okay with it? 
She is too nice for her own good. 
“Do y’want some pizza?” he asks, already opening the freezer.
Normally, y/n would say no. She’s kind of an unwelcome guest and she doesn’t want to be a burden on Harry. But… she hasn’t had anything since breakfast. And Maddie still hasn’t come out. She’s kind of starving.
“What kind?” she asks politely.
“Umm… cheese or pepperoni.” 
“I don’t like pepperoni,” she confesses shyly. “But also I could just pick it off if you want pepperoni. Whatever you want.” 
He rolls his eyes, shoving the pepperoni pizza back into the freezer. He wants to scream at her to stop being so nice! Stop being so considerate and just say what you want!
He puts it in the oven to bake, setting a timer for 15 minutes, then takes a moment to contemplate his next move. He could either go back into his room, where he could lie in bed and nap until the pizza was ready… or he could stay in here and sit awkwardly on the couch so that y/n wouldn’t be all alone. 
99% of him wants to just go back into his room where he can be grumpy and alone in peace… but then he looks over at y/n, who’s sitting on the couch all by herself. She looks so uncomfortable and out of place, tracing her thumb over the raised up font on the hardcover in her hands.
The 1% of him that feels bad for her wins. He sits down next to her on the couch. 
He nods his head towards the worn out book, which looks thicker than anything he’s ever read. “Are you reading the fuckin’ bible?” 
“No,” she shakes her head, laughing to herself quietly. She runs her fingers over the grooves of the title, a feeling so familiar that it comforts her when she’s feeling so out of place. “It’s Wuthering Heights.” 
He furrows his brow. “Never heard of it.” 
“It’s good,” she says. “Kinda dense, but I’ve already read it a few times. It’s one of my favorites.” 
He nods again, tapping his fingers on his thighs as silence overtakes the apartment once more. He looks around the living room, trying to find something else to say. 
Y/n’s heart pitter patters in her chest nervously. She can’t help but feel a bit nervous around Harry. She’s pretty shy in general, and Harry’s stoic demeanor certainly doesn’t help her relax. Her voice is quiet as she asks, “Um… what’s your major?” A feeble attempt on her end at a conversation. 
“Math.” 
“Just math?” she parrots.
“Mhm,” he cracks his knuckles. “Pure math.” 
She huffs out a quiet breath, a pout on her lips. “I’m in a math class right now.” Her fingers pick at a piece of fuzz that’s stuck on the couch. “Calc 1. It’s really hard.”
“Mm, yeah.” Harry hums, “Took that during my first year.” 
She looks at him with wide eyes, “Did you pass?” 
He holds back a smile. It’s amusing, how earnestly she’s asking him – a math major – if he passed Calculus 1. That class was generally easy for him, mostly just beginner stuff compared to the math he does now that he’s in his third year. But he doesn’t say that. “Yeah, I did,” he says simply, not wanting to make her feel bad.
She nods, looking back down at her book. “I’m kinda scared. Our first midterm was really hard.” 
He hums sympathetically. Even though it was easy for him, he knows that calc class is infamously hard for others – especially for those who aren’t math inclined like himself. “How about you? What’s your major?” 
His legs are spread apart so that he takes up nearly half the couch, whereas y/n sits curled up on the other corner, trying to take up as little space as possible. “Bio,” she readjusts herself so that she’s sitting crisscrossed, her book still clutched to her chest protectively. “With a concentration in ecology.” 
Ew. He hates biology. Actually… he hates everything except math. Math is easy for him. 
The oven beeps. A rush of relief fills his chest, finally free from this awkward conversation, and he eagerly abandons y/n on the couch to get the pizza out. He’s hungry, starving, and doesn’t bother with a plate or anything before grabbing a slice and shoving it in his mouth. 
“Come have some,” he mumbles, mouth full.
She timidly walks over to the kitchen counter that he’s standing at, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants, and takes a slice as well. Blowing on it, she takes a much smaller bite than Harry did since it’s still so hot. She doesn’t know how he managed to already finish a whole slice. 
Now that they can focus on eating their food, there’s no need for any more small talk. They eat comfortably in silence, only acknowledging each other when y/n asks for a napkin. He nods towards one of the drawers, asking her to grab him one too, and then they’re back to eating in silence. 
Blake and Maddie burst out of his room a few minutes later.
“Harry made dinner!” exclaims Blake, coming over and reaching for a slice of pizza. 
Harry yanks the tray out of his reach. “Get your own pizza,” he mumbles, putting the pizza back down in front of y/n. He looks at her, and nods his head towards the pizza, inviting her to take another slice. 
Maddie stops her before she can reach for a second slice. “Ready to go?” she asks. 
Y/n nods, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Thanks for the pizza,” she whispers to Harry, quiet enough so that only he hears. 
“Yeah,” is all he says. He barely looks at her, too busy scarfing down his third (maybe fourth) slice. 
She grabs her stuff and follows Maddie out of the boys apartment. 
+++
“Hey!” Maddie pushes her way through the stuffed apartment, reaching her hand out towards y/n. “Listen, I’m gonna go home with Blake.”
“W-What?” Y/n’s head is foggy, her brain a little clouded from the few drinks that she’s had. Y/n doesn’t normally drink, so the little bit of alcohol in her system has had its intended effect and gone a bit further as well – her cheeks are warm, and she feels the world sway a little bit as she looks up at Maddie with a pout. “But– but what about me?”
Normally, y/n stays home whenever Maddie wants to go out and party. She prefers the comfort of her own bed and hates the anxiety she feels when she’s drunk and wobbly and surrounded by a bunch of strangers. But Maddie had assured her that they’d be together all night, that she’d take care of her if she got drunk, and that she’d drive them home whenever y/n wanted to leave.
She’s broken all three of those promises. 
When they got to the party, Maddie abandoned her as soon as she saw Blake across the room. Luckily, y/n saw some of her own friends that she was able to hang out with, some girls from her ecology class who gave her a yummy strawberry smirnoff. They talked and laughed and y/n was having a good time, slowly but surely getting a little bit tipsy. The drink was so yummy, and Maddie wasn’t there to keep an eye on her, so she didn’t realize that she’d gone a bit over her tolerance. 
She’s a bit tipsier than she’d like to be in a public setting, surrounded with people she doesn’t know, and it’s too dark outside for her to get home safely on her own. And now… Maddie wants to abandon her? For Blake? 
“Don’t worry!” Maddie exclaims, completely disregarding the worry flickering in y/n’s glazed eyes. “I’ll order you an uber home!” 
Y/n bites her lip nervously. An uber? At this time of night, when she’s all drunk and stumbling around like a sad little baby deer?
“Um… can’t you take me home before you go with Blake?” 
Maddie rolls her eyes, “come on, really? I’ll pay for the uber. It'll be fine.” 
Y/n’s heart beats loudly in her chest, “I-I’m scared of going by myself, Maddie. I think I had too much to drink, I don’t feel safe.”
Her roommate purses her lips in a firm line, as if she’s annoyed. She looks around the apartment, tapping her foot impatiently, then she lights up with an idea. “Stay here,” she tells y/n. 
“Harry!” Maddie calls out, making her way back to the other side of the apartment. “Hey, Harry!” 
He’s sitting on a couch, next to a pretty girl in a tight black dress who has her legs splayed across his lap comfortably. There’s a furrow in his brow that makes him look pissed off, but his hand rests very comfortably on this girl's thigh and he makes no objections as she plays with the collar of his shirt. His head whips over to Maddie as she tramples her way over to him.
“What is it?” he snaps, voice closed off and irritated. 
“Can you drive y/n home?” 
He blinks. “Huh?” 
“Can you drive y/n home??” she says again, frustrated.
“Why?” 
“Cause I’m going over to your apartment with Blake and she needs a ride home.” 
He stares at Maddie unbelievingly, and peers over at y/n, who’s sitting all alone on the other side of the apartment. Her lips are pouted sadly, staring down at the floor with a far off look in her eyes. 
“Why can’t you take her home?” he grumbles, looking up at Maddie with a glare in his eye.
She huffs, impatiently stomping her foot. “Cause I’m going home with Blake right now! Come on Harry, it’s not that far! Please?” 
He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ unbelieveable,” he mutters under his breath, pushing the girl off of him as he stands up. 
“Thank you,” she sighs, dragging him behind her. “Y/n,” Maddie says, stopping in front of her. “Harry’s gonna drive you home.” 
She looks up, eyes wide and round. “H-Harry?”
“Yes,” she says harshly, “you guys are friends, aren’t you?”
“Um…” y/n doesn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t necessarily consider them friends just because they shared a pizza. 
Her night out with Maddie was meant to be fun, but right now, she just feels abandoned and kinda scared. And Harry doesn’t seem too happy about this either, which makes her feel even worse.
“Lets go,” he snaps, jaw clenching tightly as he swings his car keys around his index finger. She flinches at his tone and digs her nails into her palms nervously. 
She’s trapped. It’s either Harry takes her home, or she takes an uber all by herself. And she’s too scared to get home alone right now. 
With a final look towards Maddie, who stares back at her dismissively and shoos her towards Harry, she stands up shakily and follows Harry out of the crowded apartment. 
The air outside is much colder than the apartment, goosebumps immediately rising on y/n’s skin and making her shiver. Harry doesn’t acknowledge the way she stumbles over her feet, walking ahead of her briskly. She’s forced to keep herself composed, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm and nearly jogging to keep up with Harry’s long strides. 
He unlocks his car doors and gets into the driver’s seat. Y/n opens the passenger’s side door for herself and takes a seat, buckling herself in quietly.
Turning on the car, he notices the way her arms are tightly crossed in front of her chest. He turns up the heat, and pulls out of the parking lot. 
They play no music and say nothing, driving in silence.
“Sorry you have to drive me home,” she says faintly after a few minutes. 
His turn signal blinks softly. “Can’t believe your roommate just left you,” he mutters irritatedly. 
She says nothing in response. She stares out the window, a lump in her throat as the drive past the streets of college houses and apartments. The red light they stop at and the name of the streets go blurry from the tears gathering at her waterline. She sniffles softly.
Harry whips his head to her. “Why are you crying?”
Her lower lip wobbles as the first tear falls from her lashes. She wipes it away quickly. “I don’t know,” is all she says with a watery voice.
He stares at her befuddled, brows furrowed and eyes a piercing green, but she refuses to meet his gaze. She just looks outside the window in a melancholy haze, lost in thought, eyes unfocused as tears drip down her face silently. 
He sighs deeply and taps his fingers against the steering wheel, praying for the red light to turn green so that he can get this girl home as soon as possible. 
+++
When they arrive at her place, he sits in his car and watches as she stumbles up the steps of her apartment. She mumbled out a soft thank you through her tears and managed to climb out of his car smoothly, but the way she wobbles on her feet makes Harry worry that he shouldn’t leave until he’s sure she got in.
She stands in front of her door for a solid two minutes, trying to find her keys, and Harry taps his fingers against his thigh impatiently. When she finally finds them, she struggles to fit the key in the lock, hands shaky and her vision still blurred from the tears. Aaaand then she drops them. 
Harry sighs and puts the car in park. By the time she’s picked the keys back up, Harry’s already gotten out of his car and reached the top step. He takes the keys from her and easily unlocks her door. “In,” he mutters, ushering her into her apartment impatiently. 
He follows her into her bathroom and turns the light on for her. Their eyes meet in the mirror as he asks, “can you get yourself ready for bed?”
She nods, looking down at the ground sheepishly as he leaves her to take off her makeup and brush her teeth. She opts to skip her skincare routine and doesn’t even bother with putting her jewelry back in her jewelry box, simply just leaving her earrings on her bathroom counter to deal with tomorrow. 
Harry’s probably gone back down to his car by now, she thinks. It’s so embarrassing, how he had to drive her home and guide her into her bathroom. He seemed annoyed with her. He probably thought she was so messy – an annoying, overdramatic girl who started crying in his car for no reason. 
More tears bubble in her tears as the hot wave of embarrassment washes over her. She was such a mess, of course she’s never been in a relationship. Nobody would want to date someone like her. 
She takes off her clothes and whips off her bra, sniffling to herself sadly. Slipping on her favorite sweatshirt, a huge pink one that goes down to her mid thighs and covers her hands, she uses the sleeves to wipe away the excess tears in her eyes. She stumbles over herself a bit and bangs her foot against her dresser as she reaches for a pair of sleep shorts and it only makes her want to cry even harder. Drunk y/n is extra emotional, and every little thing is sending over the edge. 
As she’s stepping into her pair of sleep shorts, her bedroom door opens, Harry walking in with a glass of water in one hand and a pill bottle in the other. She trips over herself as she tries to pull her clothes on as soon as possible, but it just makes her lose balance and stumble to the side. His eyes widen and he turns around quickly, muttering a quick fuck to himself. 
“Sorry,” he mutters. “Are you decent?”
Y/n regains her composure, cheeks burning as she pulls her shorts over her hips. This night could not be going any worse. “Yeah,” she says quietly. She hopes it’s dark enough in the room so that he doesn’t see her flaming cheeks and puffy eyes. 
He turns around and hands her the water, which she immediately starts chugging down. She didn’t realize how thirsty she’d been until she’d seen the glass in Harry’s large, tattooed hand. 
“Slow down,” he grunts. He pops open the pill bottle and takes out one Advil for her. “Take this.” 
She grabs the pill from him obediently and swallows it down with the rest of her water. Then she looks up at him, as if waiting for his next instructions. 
“Bed,” he says, nodding his head towards her daisy printed sheets. She goes to climb in but trips over her shoe that she’d messily discarded on the floor. Harry grabs her waist before she can fall to the floor though. 
“Jesus,” he murmurs. This was like the seventh time she’s almost fallen over tonight. Is she always this clumsy or was it the drinks? 
He grabs her hand and physically guides her into her bed, making sure she lays down properly and lifting the sheets for her to climb under. Grabbing her ankle, he literally has to guide her under the blanket, then lets the duvet fall over her gracefully. 
“All good?” he asks, once she’s tucked nicely into her bed, teeth brushed and medicine taken so that she wouldn’t wake up feeling gross tomorrow. 
She looks up at him, eyes no longer tear filled but still clearly sad. “Yeah..” she says quietly, however her eyes flicker around her room as if she’s searching for something. 
He furrows his brows, and glances in the direction her eyes have landed. A stuffed bunny lies on the floor next to the shoe that she tripped over. He bends over and picks it up, handing it to her questioningly. She takes the bunny and snuggles it into her neck, eyes fluttering as if she can finally relax. “Thanks,” she whispers. 
Harry nods curtly and heads for the door. When he turns around one final, y/n is watching him with sleepy eyes. “Bye, Harry,” she squeaks out. 
He stares at her for a second. “Bye.” Then he closes the door behind himself.
+++
Y/n wakes up with a pounding headache and an upset tummy.
That was mortifying. 
She’s never gonna be able to face Harry again. He was so annoyed with her, she just knows it! The way she dragged him away from that party, cried in his car, and tripped over herself like a stupid goat with clanky legs… oh, he probably thinks she’s the worst! 
She wishes she had more control over her emotions, that she could’ve held in the tears until she was alone in her bed… but she just felt so miserable last night. She had wanted to start crying literally when Maddie first yelled at her at the party, but she tried to stay strong. Kept herself together so that she at least didn’t start crying in the middle of a party.
But then… getting in the car with Harry. God. The deafening silence, the irritation radiating off of him… it made her feel terrible. She felt like a nuisance, like an annoyance and a burden. 
And she completely humiliated herself in front of Harry! The cute guy that she maybe sort of had started to have a tiny little crush on, simply because he was cute and mildly nice to her and she has a habit of romanticizing small interactions.  
There was no chance he’d ever want to be in a room with her after this. He probably wants nothing to do with her. 
She stumbles out of her bed and plants her feet on the ground, her head spinning a little bit as she squints her eyes. Her little stuffed bunny has fallen onto the floor again, and she picks it up and places it onto the bed next to herself. She remembers how Harry had picked the bunny up and given it to her before she fell asleep last night, like she was some little kid that he was stuck babysitting. 
Ugh. She’s never going to talk to him again. 
+++
Harry stands outside of his lecture hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed angrily. His eyebrows are furrowed in classic Grumpy Harry fashion and his lips are pursed in a disgruntled frown. 
He’s annoyed. 
He stares at y/n, who’s sitting on a bench not too far away. Her tote bag sits on the floor next to her feet and there’s a book in her hand, her finger in between the pages as a temporary bookmark to not lose the page she’s on. 
There’s something about her that just… annoys him so much. He can’t quite explain it.
The way her cheeks dimple as she smiles up at the guy talking to her, tucking her hair behind her ear gently when it falls into her face… it makes his jaw clench angrily as he watches her from a distance. She’s so nice. Too nice. 
She laughs at something the guy she’s talking to says and it makes his stomach feel sour. He doesn’t like it.
Blake’s hand snaps in front of Harry’s face. “Bro. Stop staring.” 
Harry forces his eyes to look away, brows still furrowed grumpily. “Wasn’t staring,” he mumbles, pushing himself off the wall and going into the lecture hall. 
“You were,” he responds, following closely behind. “She’s really nice… I dunno why you hate her.”
“Who says I hate her?” Harry scoffs. “I never talk to her.” Especially as of late, she’s quiet as a mouse around him. He was over at her apartment to pick Blake up the other day and she’d only said a quiet “hi” before scurrying back into her room, like a scared little bunny in the presence of a snake or something. 
“Well… I mean, you could be nicer.”
Harry furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”
Blake hesitates. “Like… I dunno. Maddie says you made her cry.” 
“Huh?” He thinks back to that night… “How was that my fault?” All he’d done was driven her home and tucked her into bed? She just started crying on her own!
“She’s just kind of sensitive,” says Blake. “I know you probably weren’t trying to mean, but you’re definitely not sunshine and rainbows. You’re scary, did y’know that?”
Harry rolls his eyes. Everyone seems to have this preconceived notion that Harry's this huge dick who never smiles… and though it’s true that he rarely smiles in the presence of strangers, he’s not an asshole! He just doesn’t feel like wasting his energy in pretending to like people he doesn’t actually like. Or smile when it’s much more comfortable to furrow his brows and pout grumpily. 
And he finds that usually his grumpy demeanor works in his favor – people stay out of his way, and he gets to avoid the headache that comes with interacting with people. But now this girl… this sunshine girl who always has her nose in a little book and always says please and thank you and is nice to everyone and stumbles over herself like a little puppy who's learning how to walk… she’s gone on and made him feel bad about it. 
How annoying is that? To have the nicest person on the planet think you’re scary?  
“I wasn’t trying to make her cry,” he mutters, irritated. “I didn’t even say anything to her.”
“Well maybe that’s the problem. Like… just try. I think you’ll like her.”
He doesn’t think so. She’s too nice. They probably wouldn’t get along. 
+++
There are three things y/n does a lot.
The first is studying. Her grades come first, always. She’ll be at the library for hours at a time, snuggled up in a booth with an iced coffee and her color coded notes, studying until she can barely keep her eyes open. It’s unhealthy, and she really should take breaks more often… but she just gets really nervous about her grades! 
She’s used to being at the top of her class, and has always been a straight A student.  But recently, she’s been struggling. She’s doing fine in her chemistry class, and absolutely thriving in biology. But calculus… calculus is her worst enemy.
The second thing she does a lot is reading. She’s been a bookworm for as long as she can remember. Her most frequent genre is romance (obviously!), but she’ll dabble a little bit in the popular fantasy series, maybe pick up a thriller every once in a while. And if she’s feeling sophisticated, she’ll try to read one of the classics… something philosophical, like Camus, or maybe something a little heavier, like War and Peace. But those situations are rare. She prefers her little world of romance.
The third thing that y/n does a lot… is cry. 
She’ll cry if she watches a sad movie, she’ll cry over a sad book. She cried when Finnick died in The Hunger Games, and she cried when she finished Of Mice and Men. She cries every single time she watches Pride and Prejudice (2005), sobs her eyes out when Mr. Darcy says, “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love- I love- I love you.”
She cries if someone yells at her, and she cries if she thinks someone doesn’t like her. She cries almost every time she’s drunk (example: when Harry drove her home), and she cries in the middle of the night when she’s feeling homesick. She cries for no reason when she’s getting close to her period… and sometimes, she cries because she’s just lonely.
Now, you might be thinking… y/n sounds super annoying. But please don’t think that! That would also probably make her cry.
She’s just a tad bit sensitive! She has so many emotions in her little heart, and she’s trying so hard to be responsible and manage life as a young adult but at the end of the day she’s just a girl!!! She’s just a girl, and she’s tired and stressed out and lonely and touch deprived, and sometimes she has a hard time keeping everything together so she just… cries.
If she could control it, she would! Do you really think she wants to be crying in the library? Of course, not! It’s embarrassing, and she’s trying really hard to keep her sniffles quiet and to suck the tears back into her eyeballs… but when she’s sad, she can’t stop the tears.
So now she’s crying in the library. And it’s all because of Issac Newton.
Why did he have to invent calculus? Like, what was even the point? Why did she, as a girl studying ecology, have to take this stupid class?
She buries her face in her arms, the tears unstoppable at this point, and just hopes that anyone walking past will think she’s napping and not crying her eyes out. 
She’d studied really hard for that last midterm. Like– she’d literally been in the library for a week straight, just doing calculus problems over and over again. She went to office hours to get help on all the questions she was stuck on, and was watching the Organic Chemistry Tutor’s videos religiously. She did so much math that she was literally having dreams about doing calculus. 
And yet, even with all of her studying, she still managed to fail the midterm. Like… she seriously failed it. As in, if she doesn’t get an A on the final, she will literally have to retake the class.
She’s so sad. She’s never gotten a grade this low, ever in her life. And she’d tried so hard!!! The morning of the midterm, she’d actually felt confident! She thought she had it in the bag!
She was so, so wrong. 
She feels stupid – not just because she failed the midterm, but because she’s literally having a breakdown about it in the library. 
This is stupid. Everything is stupid. School is stupid, Issac Newton is stupid, calculus is stupid–
“Y/n?” 
Uh oh. She tries to wipe away her tears discreetly, licking her lips and clearing her throat and desperately hoping that it’s not obvious that she’s been crying. 
When she lifts her head, she finds Harry standing in front of her. “Why’re you crying?” he asks bluntly, looking down at her with his brows furrowed.
Ok. So it is obvious.
“Um,” she sniffles, “Hi Harry.” She hopes that maybe if she pretends like everything is fine, then he won’t pry any further. 
It doesn’t work.
“Why are you crying?” he asks again. There’s not much compassion or comfort in his voice. Same old grumpy Harry, so blank and impassive. 
She shrugs her shoulders, feeling small and embarrassed. “I– it’s silly,” she stammers, looking down at her fingers. 
Harry doesn’t say anything, staring at her and waiting for her to continue. 
She swallows thickly. “I failed my midterm,” she whispers, her voice catching as a new lump grows in her throat. 
“How bad?”
One lone tear falls down her face as she shakes her head disappointedly, which she wipes away quickly. “Really bad,” she whimpers. Her cheeks burn hot as she realizes that she can’t hold back the tears any longer. She quickly averts her eyes from him, staring into her lap and hoping that he can’t see her face.
This is the second time he’s seen her cry, which is two times more than she would like. He probably thinks she’s some silly, over emotional girl… probably thinks she’s so annoying. She just wants to curl up in a ball, hide in a dark hole and cry by herself. She can’t handle Harry’s judgment on top of her shitty midterm grade.  
He stands there silently for a moment. Her lower lip has pouted out cutely and he can hear her sniffling quietly. “Was it math?” he asks. 
“Yeah,” she grumbles sadly. Stupid math. 
He hums. After another tense moment he asks, “Do you want help?”
“Help with what?” She stares down at her fingers, her tone dejected. The happy glimmer that usually sparkles in her eye is gone. 
“With math,” he clarifies. “I can help you.”
She looks up at him curiously, still pouting. “You’d help me with math?”
He nods, pulling out the chair next to her. “Let me see your midterm,” he says, nodding his head towards the packet of math problems she’d just been sobbing over. Embarrassingly, the front page is stained with a few tears, but she hands it over nonetheless. 
He scans over the first page quickly, reading the question and seeing how she answered it. “Do you know why you got this one wrong?” 
She sniffles and shrugs. She hadn’t even tried to look over the questions, too mentally exhausted to even try and understand what mistakes she’d made. 
“Look. You tried to cancel out the tan3x, which would make sense in any other case… but since it’s to the power of 4 you could really easily have used integration by parts.”
“Wish I knew that before I took the fucking midterm,” she huffs.
“Hey,” he tsks. “Learn from your mistakes so that you don’t make them again. You need to know this stuff to do integral tests later.”
She shakes her head. “I tried so hard, Harry,” she barely whispers, her voice exhausted. “Like I studied so much, and I really really tried to make it all make sense. But it’s just so hard for me.” She sniffles and wipes away more tears, taking a shaky breath and looking away from Harry. 
She doesn’t want to try anymore. She just wants to give up.
He purses his lips, brows furrowed. There’s something about seeing y/n upset that just feels so wrong. She usually brings so much… light into a room. Seeing her cry makes it seem like the entire universe has gotten a little sadder. 
“You’ve got the right idea when you’re solving these…” he tries to comfort her (though he’s never really been good at comforting people), “It’s just little things that you’re doing wrong. And it’s probably because you’ve got a shit professor who just has you copy down problems.”
“That’s literally all we do!” she whines, not even caring if she sounds like a baby. “He does the problems so fast and then I have to go home and try and figure out how he did it all by myself!” She sniffles and puts her head in her hands, more tears dropping from her eyelashes. She’s exhausted, her head starting to hurt as she exhales a shuddery breath. 
He lets her cry a little bit. “Listen,” he says gently, turning to face her. The normal furrow in his brow is gone, his gaze a little bit softer. “Next time you come over with Maddie, bring your notes and we can go over them together, okay?”
She sniffles. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” 
“Like actually?”
“Yes,” he says again exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. He stands up from the table and puts her midterm back down in front of her. “Lighten up, sunshine. One bad score is not the end of the world.” 
She feels a bit silly now that Harry’s witnessed her having another breakdown in the library. But, despite how little he said… he actually helped her calm down. This was not the end of the world. 
“Okay,” she whispers, “thanks, Harry.” 
He nods and walks away. 
Maybe he doesn’t hate her, she thinks to herself. 
˙· .° 。  ˚ 。  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° 。 ˚ 。  ° . · ˙ · .° 。 ˚ 。 °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  
“I’m going out,” Maddie says as she walks into the kitchen, discarding her half full coffee mug on the counter as she grabs her car keys from the hook in front of the door. 
“Your mug!” y/n tuts like a mother. Maddie rolls her eyes as she pours the last of her coffee down the sink and puts the mug in the dishwasher. Y/n ignores the dramatic eye roll, knowing that Maddie’s just playing around, and asks, “Where are you going?”
“Over to Blake’s,” she responds with a wink. She’s been telling y/n about how she’s been waiting for Blake to text her all week because she doesn’t want to be the one texting first all the time… weird situation-ship stuff that y/n’s never experienced before. Seems like he finally texted her, with how excited Maddie is to be going over. 
Just as Maddie is about to step out the door, y/n remembers Harry’s offer. He’d been serious, right? He hadn’t just said that because she was crying… right? She really hopes not, because she really could use his help. She’d been up for hours last night, trying to do the homework, but ultimately giving up because she got too frustrated with herself. Maybe… maybe he’d be able to help her?
“Wait!” y/n calls out, “Um… can I come with you?”
Maddie raises an eyebrow, “Why do you want to come over to Blake’s apartment?”
Y/n turns a bit shy, “Harry… he’s, um, helping me with math.”
“Harry?” Maddie’s eyes glimmer curiously. “He’s literally such a dick. He’s helping you?”
“He’s not that bad…” y/n mumbles, remembering the ounce of kindness he’d shown to her in the library the other day. He’s just a little bit… reserved, she’s started to realize.
“Please. He literally never smiles. I dunno how you got him to talk to you, he always ignores me when I’m over.” 
(Honestly, she doesn’t blame Harry for not talking to Maddie… she sometimes ignores Maddie in her own apartment too…)
“You have two minutes to meet me in the car or I’m leaving without you!”
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With her schoolbag in hand, y/n taps lightly on Harry’s door. Blake had told her to just go in, but she feels like that’s rude, so she stands in front of his door nervously and waits patiently for him to open. 
“What?” he grunts, opening his bedroom door. “Oh.” The furrow in his brow softens the slightest bit when he sees it’s y/n. He’d thought it was Blake bugging him about something. Y/n is a much… nicer surprise. 
“Hi,” she says, chewing on the inside of her lip nervously. “I was wondering if… um, you could help me out with my calc stuff?” 
He stares at her for a second, then says, “yeah.” 
He opens the door wider and she follows him in. His room is messy, but not gross. The bed is unmade, three half full water bottles on his nightstand, and there’s a pair of sweatpants on the floor… but at least it doesn’t stink!
His computer screen is paused mid-game, and she realizes that he’d still been holding his controller when he’d opened up the door for her. He throws a jacket that had been thrown on the back of his chair onto the bed, and motions for her to sit. Then he pulls up another chair that was sitting in the corner of his room to sit next to her. 
“Let’s see it,” he says, shutting down his computer. 
“So…” she takes her laptop out of her bag, setting it down on his desk and turning it on so that she can open up her homework assignment. While it loads, she unlocks her ipad to the scratch work she’d done last night. “I was trying to do the homework last night, and I think I’m supposed to be doing integration by parts but honestly I’m not even sure how to do that… so I’m kind of lost.” 
Harry leans over her ipad and looks at the work she’d done. It’s… wrong. 
“Can I see your notes for integration by parts?” He asks, trying to figure out how she ended up with 1 as her answer when it should be a much larger, much more complicated mix of trig and integrals. She scrolls up until she lands on a page titled Chapter 7, and points to the second example on the problem. Her notes are cute, written in pink with girlish, bubbly handwriting. However, it’s clear that she’d been struggling to keep up with the lecture, some of her work completely scribbled out and replaced with messy numbers and formulas. Next to one of the big portions of scribbled out math, she's written “WHAT???” along with a sad face doodled underneath it.
Clearly she’s a bit confused. 
“Okay…” he scrolls down to a new page in her digital notebook and copies down the example problem that had confused her. “Let me show you how you do integration by parts first, and then we’ll look at the homework problem, okay?”
“M’kay,” she hums compliantly, crossing her legs and hiding her hands in her sleeves. She feels a bit… nervous. She doesn’t want Harry to think she’s stupid. But she’d rather have her ego a little bruised than fail the next midterm too. 
“So… you do integration by parts when you can’t just do normal integration… usually if there’s e^x in there or a natural log then you know that you have to do integration by parts.” 
She nods, following along quietly. 
“In this one… you have x times e^x dx… you have to break it up into two parts, U and dV. And then you take the derivative of U and find the integral of dV. And you plug that into the formula. Do you know the formula?”
She blinks at him. “Um…” she shuffles through her notes and finds it. “It’s this.” 
“Good… so what you do is you assign x to either U or dV and then e^x(dx) to the other… and then you find dU and V based off of that. Should we make x be U or dV?”
She purses her lips, “Make x=U?”
“Yes…” he nods. “Do you know why?” 
She shrugs. “I guessed.” 
His lip quirks up in the first smile y/n’s ever seen from him, a slight dimple popping up in his cheek. “S’cos we have to either find the derivative of U, or find the integral of dV. It’s way easier to use the derivative of x, cause it’s just one. If we made x equal to dV… then we’d add a fraction and a power of two to our equation and it’ll just make things ugly.”
“Oh.” She stares at his hands as he writes down what he just said in math terms, scribbling in his boyish handwriting that U=x and dU=1. “Okay.”
“So if U=x, then dV is equal to….”
“e^x?” she answers. 
“Good,” he says gently. “And what is V?”
She stays silent for a moment, searching the paper as if it’ll give her an answer. He senses her confusion and helps her out, saying, “IF V is the integral of dV, and dV is e^x…” 
“Well Isn’t the integral of e^x still e^x?” Her voice is unconfident, looking up at Harry with wide, round eyes.
“You’re right,” he says encouragingly, a soft smile on his face. “Stop doubting yourself so much.”
A reciprocating smile spreads on her face, feeling a little more confident with Harry’s praise. 
“All you do now is put your numbers into the formula. Can you do it?”
He hands the pen over to her, their fingers brushing. Her hair falls in front of her face as she leans over the page to write down her answer, and Harry watches softly as she tucks it back behind her ear. He notices how long and delicate her eyelashes are as he stares at her side profile.
“Is that right?” she asks quietly, trying hard to be confident but still so nervous that she’s done it wrong.
He tears his eyes away from her face. “Almost,” he says, leaning forward. Their arms brush against each other, the space that they initially had set between their chairs having shrunk as they worked on the problem together. She can feel his breath as he quietly murmurs next to her ear, “You just need to add +C at the end.” 
She furrows her eyebrows and turns her head towards him, and feels her heart stutter as she realizes how close their faces actually are. “What does the +C mean?”
“It’s just like… it’s supposed to represent any constants that we couldn’t find. Because when you take the derivative of a constant it just ends up being zero, so when you’re given an integral and doing the anti-differential process… you don’t know if there was actually a constant there or what it was. So the +C is just representing any constant value that could’ve been in the answer, even though you don’t know what the number is.”
She blinks at him. “Um… okay. I’ll just pretend like that made sense.”
He chuckles, the first time she’s probably ever heard him laugh. “It’s honestly not that important to get it. Just remember to add +C every time you take an integral.”
“Got it…” she says, adding the +C. 
“Think you can do the next one on your own?” 
+++
“Harry,” y/n pouts. “It says I’m wrong but I dunno why.” 
He pauses his game and slides out of his seat, going over to y/n. She’d relocated to his bed after they did a couple more problems together and felt confident enough to do the rest by herself. His chest brushing against her back softly as he leans over her shoulder, going over her work. “What’s the integral of sin(x)?”
“Cos(x),” she says confidently.
“Not quite…”
She sits there for a second, brows furrowed. “Oh!” she adds a negative in front of the cos(x).
“There you go,” he grins down at her. 
She lays down on his bed, her hair splaying out behind her as she throws her ipad on his bed, relieved. “Harry. You’re a genius.” 
He laughs, a quiet huff of air that passes out of his nose with an amused smile on his face. “So it makes sense?”
“I think you should be teaching our class. You’re so good. Thank you for helping me.”
He hums, giving her a satisfied smirk, and goes back to his game while she finishes her homework. It's a strange setup, sitting in his bed and doing her homework while he plays, but she doesn’t mind it. 
In fact, it’s kind of nice.
Harry’s kind of nice.
She kind of likes Harry.
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hope u guys loved it!!!!!! part 2 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (july 29) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!!
sunshine - part 2 (already posted on patreon!) : In which Harry's a little bit nicer, and y/n is very excited to possibly, hopefully, maybe be kissed.
sunshine masterlist
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sunkissedlouis · 30 days
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harry at the man united vs luton game 02.18.24
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boombo0 · 19 days
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never gonna finish this anyway
my fav skill
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moonchildstyles · 4 days
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pleasing
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y/n is harry's best friend and she'd never received a valentine's present like this one before.
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—————
Just as she finished patting in her skincare for the night, (Y/N)'s phone vibrated for where she had it plugged in, in her bedroom. There was only one person that would be calling her this late at night. 
Dismissing the products she had scattered on her bathroom counter, she rushed back into her room. Upon the screen was a blurry, distorted picture of her best friend with his hair on top of his head in different spikes, thanks for a heaping of sticky hair gel and free time during a snowstorm. His name was plastered across the top, the peapod emoji right next to it. She didn't hesitate before she answered the call. 
"Harry?" she sang after pressing her phone to her ear.
"Hey, are you busy?" 
"I'm just getting ready for bed. Why?" 
"Can I FaceTime you?" 
She barely had time to give a yes before the call switched to a FaceTime in her hand, her screen lighting up a beat later. In front of her was the top half of his face, revealing only his eyes and up. His hair was pulled back with a claw clip, the angle showing off the length of his lashes and the furrow of his brow. 
(Y/N) could see herself in the small box in the corner of the screen, showing off a rather similar angle to what he was giving, though she thought hers was much less flattering somehow. 
"Hello?" 
The furrow in her best friend's brow decreased at the sound of her voice, giving away the smile that was spreading across his lips even if she couldn't see it on screen. 
"Can y'see me?" he asked, his voice sounding muffled and far away. 
"Yes, but I can barely hear you. Are you covering your speakers?" 
Her world went askew as Harry shuffled his phone in his hand, his mouth set in a comical frown for a glimpse before he righted his grip and was back with the half view of his face. "Sorry, can y'hear me now?" 
She hummed a confirmation, smiling to the camera. "What did you want to show me?" 
Harry's cheeks lifted, giving away the hint of a dimple in the corner of the frame. "I have new samples." 
A gasp fell from (Y/N) lips, excitement filling her. "For the collection?! Or different ones?" 
"For the collection." 
Her excitement only rose at the new information. "Let me see!" she bubbled, eagerly curling up on her bed, ready to spend the next hour poring over the new development with Harry.
After a small struggle and a lagging view of Harry's face, the camera suddenly turned to show a view of prototype nail polish bottles and first prints of shimmery nail stickers laid out on his black bedding. 
Even in the low light of his room, (Y/N) could see flecks of glitter in a few of the polishes, the stickers glimmering in the shapes of hearts and flowers. The colors themselves ranged from quiet pastels to vivid brights, some left creamy, others containing barely-there shimmers, and the remainders boasting chunky bright glitters. The collection was large, containing two sets of polishes: one set was full of delicate pastels ranging in the pink family, with the other championing rich, clinging colors. The first iterations of the polish packaging came with the iconic spheres on the tops of the bottles, though this collection featured watercolor petals draped over the shape, leaving the illusion of flowers encased in the bottle all in the same color as the polish inside. 
"What do you think?" 
(Y/N) was sure he could see the wide set to her eyes, the way she was practically fawning over them already. "H, I love it! This is for the Valentine's collection, right?" 
"Something like that, yeah," he answered, his smile evident in his voice, "I figured y'liked the pink ones." 
"I do," she chirped, bringing her phone closer as if she could gain a clearer look of each shade that way. "Put your phone closer, I want to see the colors and the stickers better." 
Harry did just that without hesitation, bringing his phone to his bed, though he went a step further and picked up the stickers to show off in front of the camera. 
Gasping, (Y/N)'s brows bounced over her eyes when she took in the sticker sheet. 
"Harry." 
"What?" 
"Are those bows?!" 
He only laughed.
—————
"Goodnight, (Y/N). I'll talk to you tomorrow." 
"Talk to you tomorrow, H," (Y/N) yawned, unabashedly showing off a downturned angle of the moment while Harry watched on. "Let me know if you want to get dinner later this week. Love you." 
His heart squeezed in his chest at her casual declaration. "Love you, too." 
With that, the video of her sleepy face disappeared, showing only the simple photo he had saved to his lockscreen. Harry's gaze lingered on the empty space for a heartbeat, just a split second away from calling her back despite the late hour and the fact she'd been half asleep before he'd suggested she head to bed. He forced himself to lock his phone and set it on his bedside table, keeping it out of sight and hopefully out of mind. 
Still spread out on his bed, where he had sprawled out his limbs and grew comfortable amongst the bedding, were the new Pleasing products he had been so eager to show off. Everything was still in the test package, nothing completely finalized or one hundred percent polished just yet, but he'd been too excited. He'd shared the concept with (Y/N) ages ago, right after he'd made it out of a meeting with Harry Lambert and Molly, unable to keep the secret under wraps—especially when he found his own inspiration for the collection. 
(Y/N). 
It had been Molly's idea to unveil a Valentine's themed collection after the small set of apparel that would be released around his birthday, hoping to tap into another facet of him that was so beloved to the public. She had in mind something that would commemorate the love songs he was so famous for; the kind of sweetheart, love-sick energy that he often utilized to make his most memorable lyrics and showcased on stage.
As she had gone on, sharing what kind of feeling she wanted to invoke for the season's rollout, Harry was only thinking of his own inspiration. 
It was the same thing that inspired his music, his attitude, his want to improve and be more and more than he started as. 
His best friend. 
He saw his own idea for the collection coming in flashes of her favorite colors, the shade of the dress she wore to his birthday party, the hue of her eyes, the colors that falling in love with her made him see in the world. He could see her with her fingernails proudly painted in his brand, the way she always did when Pleasing made something new just so she could support him. There were already prototypes of new apparel, manicure stickers, and campaign designs forming in his head. 
Harry had come away from that meeting with plenty of ideas to think on, and lyrics forming that he hoped he wouldn't forget before he had a chance to write them down. 
Months later, he had enough ideas for more than one micro-collection. Each one had been passed by Molly and Harry Lambert—both being excited and surprised that there was so much to be used and saved for later collections—leaving with a duo of aesthetics they planned on basing the campaign around. 
That was what he had shown (Y/N) tonight, and was now spread across his bedspread as he tried to calm down his winding heart after their late night call. He kept seeing her face when she spotted the romantic set that was directly inspired by her, the way her eyes lit up when she took in the shades of pink and the shimmery accents. That had been the kind of reaction he had been hoping for when he received the initial samples. 
Collecting each piece, he took his time pulling each bottle, rolling them in his hands with bubbles floating through the polish. He wondered if (Y/N) would catch the connections when he revealed the names to her. He wondered if she would know that he named this shimmery soft pink Woman with her in mind, including inspiration from a song he penned that now was soaked in her memory. The buttery yellow with golden reflects dubbed Home, would she know that was based on the golden dress she wore the first time she saw him on tour? The rich, creamy red he'd called Feast, he hoped she'd see the lipstick she wore the first time they met in the shade. 
He lingered over the bottles, all eight shades invoking a specific memory that went into the creation. Carefully replacing them in the drawer with the rest of his Pleasing pieces, ensuring nothing clinked together too hard with the sticker bundle staying together, he allowed himself a moment with the full collection under the bright light of his bathroom. It was near perfect, seeing it all together. All that was left to sample was the apparel that had been drafted up a few weeks prior with Harry Lambert's guidance, and the extra accessories they were debating on adding in the collection.
He had a feeling (Y/N) would fight to take the samples from him. The idea had a small smile spreading on his lips by the time he was flicking his bathroom light off and padding back to his room. 
By the time Harry bundled himself in his bedding, his phone settled away in his bedside table, he shuttered his eyes though he could still see the ghost of (Y/N)'s excited face on the inside of his eyelids. Just as much as he hoped she would notice the names of the polishes, catch the fact that the stickers were an ode to her, the apparel made with her form in mind, scents formulated to sweep over her skin, he feared she wouldn't notice in the same way she'd never noticed him in the way he wanted. 
Did she remember the yellow dress she wore to the first live show she could make it to? (Y/N) barely ever wore lipstick these days, did she even have that tube of red anymore? Did she ever listen to Woman and hear the words he was too scared to say to her every time she introduced him to a new boyfriend?
The idea needled at the center of his chest just as it always had when he was reminded that he was years into an infatuation that had no sign of ending either from sweet reciprocation or his heart moving on.
Nonetheless, he thought, grasping at positivity as always, he was going to revel in the reactions she gave him as if it were for himself. Those delicate compliments and the joyous excitement, he would hold tight as if they were for who he was and not something that he made. 
And, probably try to convince her to be a part of the product shoot. 
—————
      i'm here !! 🍣🍣
(Y/N) pocketed her phone as she approached the small gate surrounding Harry's home, the concrete divider and plethora of greenery giving privacy to the space. The bag of takeaway sushi hung at her side, the hood of her coat lifted over her head in case there was anyone around hoping to spot a glimpse of Harry's personal life and spin whatever tale. 
She didn't have to check if her text went through, having to wait only a moment before she heard him make his way from his front door and going through the protective greenery. "(Y/N)," he sang through the trees, the syllables of her name sifting through the plants. 
"Harry," she reciprocated, a smile spreading across her lips at the familiar greeting. 
Swinging open the gate, Harry welcomed her in with his hair held back in a familiar flower clip and dimples thumbed into his cheeks. She quickly stepped over the threshold, heading towards his porch while he locked the gate behind her. Only a beat after the click of the lock sounded, he fell into step beside her, hooking an arm around her shoulders. 
"Hi," he smiled, dimples clear on his cheeks as he gazed down at her. 
"Hi," she answered, her own features curling and softening. Feeling his eyes on her face, she took on the responsibility of guiding them towards the front door without stumbling through his garden. "Sorry I'm late. The sushi place was packed for some reason today." 
"Yeah?" he sounded, voice decidedly softer than just a beat before, "'M sorry. I would have gone if I'd known it would be that busy." 
"It's alright," she told him, leading them through his front door to which he dropped his arm from around her to instead shut and lock the door, "I just figured it wouldn't be so bad since they just opened, but everyone else probably had the same idea."
Placing the takeaway bag on the coffee table, (Y/N) shed her jacket and the knitted beanie covering her head. She had another question on her lips as she turned to face Harry once more, though that line died once she took in his outfit for the day. 
"What are you wearing?" 
A small smile spread over his lips at her words though he didn't offer his own response. 
His legs were covered in athletic joggers, the same heather green ones he always seems to be wearing lately, but that wasn't what caught her attention. Draped over his torso was a delicately pink crewneck, thick and warm, with Pleasing scripted across the center of the chest in a mauve shimmer. 
"That's new, isn't it?" she prodded, stepping towards him with her eyes on the shimmering puff print on the crewneck. He had mentioned something about adding apparel to the polish collection she'd been shown last week, but he didn't offer any specific details. 
"Maybe," he teased, "Do you like it?" 
Reaching his arms out, he let her see the full piece, including the glittery stitching that ran through the garment and drew her eyes along his form. She stepped towards him, running a finger along the seam at the cuff of the sleeve. 
"I love it," she smiled, "I didn't know you were making these." 
"I know—I wanted it to be a surprise," he told her, his arm flexing under her fingertip before dropping back to his side with his hands sliding into his pockets, "I know you've been wanting a pink one since the first set came out, so I thought it was finally time." 
"For Valentine's Day?" she bubbled, thinking back to the samples he'd shown off to her the week before. 
Something flashed over his eyes as they dropped from hers, taking in the rest of her features. "Something like that, yeah." 
"Do you have any more?" Before he even answered, she couldn't help herself but to start edging towards the stairs bordering the wall behind her. 
A plume of laughter fell from Harry's lips, catching her with his palm landing on her arms before she could scurry away. "No," he drawled as he pulled her back towards him, "But, you can have this one if y'want." 
"Are you sure?" she asked, eyes wide as she fixed her gaze on him, hands on his chest over the puff print of the lettering. "I don't want to take it if this is the only one you're testing right now." 
Harry shrugged her off, his hands on her arms sliding down in a lingering drag before they finally fell back to his sides. "'S alright. No one knows yet, anyway." 
Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) dropped her gaze from his to peruse over the glimmering neckline of the crewneck. "I don't want you to get it in trouble, though, if you give it away." 
He scrunched his features, shaking his head as if what she said was completely incredulous. "(Y/N), I made it for you." 
His words were cemented as he began pulling the piece off completely, leaving him in only the vintage shirt he'd had on underneath, the print faded and unfamiliar. He shoved the garment in her arms, a waft of his scent enveloping her. 
(Y/N) hesitated for long enough that Harry had to have noticed, prompting him to set a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Really, lovie. 'S alright. I don't want y'to have to wait to get your own." 
Relenting, she fell into his chest, Harry wrapping his arms around her with a laugh rumbling his chest under her cheek. "Thanks, H. I promise I won't wear it out or anything until you announce it, though." 
She could feel him smile when he buried his nose into her hair, his arms pulsing around her a snug embrace. 
For a brief moment, (Y/N) let her eyes close as she sunk into his arms. The fragrance of his washing detergent and the lingering scent of his cologne that had sunk into every fiber of his home washed over her. There were times she could see her friendship with Harry moving into territory she'd been too fearful to even explore in her imagination, but feeling his embrace and the words I made it for you ringing in her ears, she could be coaxed to imagine a lot of things with him.
Before she could run too far away in her head, she drew away with a bright smile, hoping he didn't catch the warmth under her skin. 
"We need to eat before our soup gets cold," she told him, stepping towards the couch with her new crewneck in her arms. 
Harry followed after her, becoming a warm shadow as he took his seat next to her. It wasn't until all of the containers were distributed out from the bag, and (Y/N)'s new sweatshirt was folded carefully at her side that he peeked at her from where he was stirring his miso soup. 
"I do have one condition with the crewneck," he murmured, taking a spoonful of tofu and seaweed. (Y/N), her own mouth full with a wonton, raised her brow in response. Taking his time to swallow, his words hanging in the air for a beat, Harry finally followed up with, "We might need an extra model for the Valentine's campaign."
"Okay," (Y/N) mumbled, a furrow pinching at her brows. "Do you need me to ask someone? I think I still have a couple of numbers of some of the people from your music videos if you want me to reach out." 
A sheepish smile touched at the corners of Harry's lips. "No, I mean... Would you want to be a model? The shoots in a few weeks, so." 
Pushing her chopsticks against the wontons floating in her soup, (Y/N) wasn't sure how to respond. "H, you know I'm not a model or anything—like, you remember that, right?" 
He laughed at her remark. "Yes, I remember. This one's going to be really special, though, and a lot of fun. I want you to be in it—if you're comfortable." 
She mulled over his words, rolling the short I want you around her head. "And this is a condition of taking the crewneck home with me today?" 
A single dimple touched his cheek. "Something like that," he tilted his head, stirring his miso soup into a slow vortex, "I am doing you a favor, aren't I?" 
She nudged his shoulder with her own, rolling her eyes. "You said it was made for me, how is it a favor to give it to me?" she teased, only shaking her head when he laughed at her. 
A beat passed before Harry returned his eyes to her, his features softened and warm. "Really, it would mean a lot to me if y'were a part of this shoot. At least think about it?" 
"I can do that," she compromised, seeing her best friend in front of her even if his words touched a separate part of her shoved into a box in the back of her mind, "I'll think about it, and let you know." 
It was the way that his smile bloomed across his features, something bright unfurling in his eyes that (Y/N) was sure she already had her decision pocketed away. 
—————
As Molly stood in front of the slew of models and talent sitting in wait for the day, Harry stood behind her as if to read the agenda in her hands even if all he really did was sweep his eyes towards (Y/N) standing at the end of the line. 
"First up is the pink side of the campaign," Molly read off, presenting the information with a smile while others ran around behind her setting up for the double shoot that would be happening, "Nail techs will be coming around to make sure everyone has something on their nails—remember which group you're in so we get the correct colors on your nails. Hair and makeup will follow afterwards..." 
There was more Molly was saying, the outline of the day being extra exhausting given there were two different aesthetics being achieved today, but Harry was much more focused on the extra model at the shoot. 
Truly, he hadn't thought (Y/N) would accept. He knew it was much for her to be in front of a camera like this, seeing as his own need for privacy definitely had rubbed off on her, so he hadn't been surprised that she had lagged on her response for a week. It was when she had called asking about details of the shoot, wanting to know about the times and location, and just how long they would be needed on set, all followed up with a chirped I'll be there! that had surprised him. It wasn't until that call that he planned on being on set all day, having previously only meant to pop by for a few hours before leaving everyone to get the real work done without him being in the way. That was how he ended up here right at eight a.m., hair back in a pink flower clip (another accessory for the collection), and his eyes searching for (Y/N). 
"Okay, everyone go pick a station and someone from hair and makeup will come help as soon as they can!" Molly dismissed everyone with a smile before turning on her heel and looking around for Harry Lambert. 
Harry stood back with the sets coming together behind him as he watched the line of models scatter towards the lit up tables. There was only one that strayed behind, hands in a bundle at her waist with her wide eyes immediately fixing to him. He didn't hesitate before he stepped towards (Y/N), reaching out to her until his arm was slung over her shoulders. 
"Y'alright?" he murmured to her, voice low compared to the bustle happening around the set. 
"Yeah," she sighed, scanning her gaze along for the last open station, "It's just weird being on set like this when I'm not just here to watch. I don't want to mess anything up." 
He shrugged his shoulders, his arm scrunching around her as he tipped his head. "You're probably going to, but 'm sure Molly or someone will be able to fix it." 
It wasn't until she looked up at him with her mouth a gape and an accusatory light in her eyes that he broke with his laughter. His shrug became a comforting hug as he held her to his side. "'M kidding, lovie. You're going to be jus' fine—we're gonna take care of you, don't worry." 
Harry pulled out the chair to the vanity for her, catching her reflection in the mirror. There was a part of him that, while he watched her, wanted to grab a camera and get his own shots for the campaign. There was nothing more romantic—in the Valentine's spirit—than the quiet moments with a partner; the moments that made it clear they were a team.
He was tugged out of his head when he heard her speak up. "Are you going to be hanging around for the shoot today then? Or are you going home soon?" 
"I'll be here all day," he decided then, setting his hands on the back of her chair as they met eyes in the mirror.
Her gaze brightened, seemingly reflecting back the lights ringing the mirror. "Are you going to be in any of the pictures?" 
It was the bubbling of her voice, the way she beamed at him that had his own lips curling into a small smile. "Maybe." 
It wouldn't be hard to convince his team to let him sneak in a couple of shots. His nails were already done up anyway. 
Before (Y/N) could say much more, one of the three nail techs flittered to her station. Familiar bottles of polish were tucked away in her apron, the pink bottles being placed out on the vanity as she offered (Y/N) a bright smile. 
"Hi," she greeted, eyes landing on Harry for a split second before bouncing away just as quickly. "I'm Mari, I'll be doing your nails this morning. How are you?" 
"I'm (Y/N). I'm doing good, thank you," she chirped, her voice decidedly higher and sweeter than when she had been speaking with Harry a moment before. He nudged her shoulder just a bit, a silent tease. "How are you?" 
"I'm doing well, thank you for asking," Mari said, carefully looking at Harry through the fan of her lashes, "And you, Mr. Styles?" 
"I'm good, thank you," he offered, his voice low with a pleasant smile given to Mari. He could spot the small ticks that gave away just how aware she was of him, he didn't want to make her any more nervous. "I appreciate your help today, Mari. I've seen some of your work, and 'm really excited to see what you can do for us." 
Mari's tan cheeks heated with a small blush bubbling underneath, faint under her skin. "Of course. Thank you for the opportunity—really." 
Harry's smile only spread wider when he felt (Y/N) nudge against his hand, her own quiet tease over his dazzling interaction. 
Before she could fluster much more, with all of her supplies spread out on the vanity table, Mari concentrated on (Y/N) once more. "Do you remember which group you were in today, (Y/N)?" 
"I'm actually in both groups today, but I think I'm a part of the pink shoot first," (Y/N) smiled, tilting her chin upwards to peek at Harry upside down, "Right?" 
"Right," Harry affirmed. It was a lot he was putting on her plate, being in both sides of the campaign, he knew that. But, just as he had told her when he laid out the details, it meant a lot to him to see her in both aesthetics. She was the face of the collection in his mind, he couldn't imagine her not pictured in every iteration.
"Long day," Mari muttered, her features school back into a pleasant expression. She plucked her fingers through the bottles, skating over the set of pink varnishes first. "Do you have a preference for what color we use today?" 
At this, (Y/N) looked to Harry once more. "Do you? I'm okay with any of them, but is there something you want me to have for the pictures, or anything?" 
Instinctively, Harry looked to the creamy baby pink shade embedded with opal flecks. He nodded towards the bottle, "That one if that's alright."
"This one?" Mari clarified, picking up the bottle he had in mind.
"Yes, please," Harry smiled, looking towards (Y/N) with his raised brows to which she gave him a small giddy nod. "And some of the stickers if y'have them." 
A quiet gasp left (Y/N)'s lips. He knew she would like that detail. 
"Sounds perfect," Mari bleated, asking for one of (Y/N)'s hands before she started prepping for the manicure. 
With her on hand free, (Y/N) reached for the opal polish to be painted over her fingers. "Do you mind if I look?" 
"Go for it," Mari smiled, concentrating on the alcohol wipe she was swiping over (Y/N)'s nail beds. 
Rolling the bottle around her hand, (Y/N) smiled up at Harry. "Is this the final bottle?" 
"Mhm," he hummed, a sense of pride touching at the center of his chest, "We changed a couple of things from when I last showed you, but this is it." 
He watched her admire the polish, tipping the bottle to and fro as she watched the color inside bubble and shift. The glitters shown in the light, going undetected until catching a ray and sparkling a vivid pink. When he saw her tilt the bottle to catch the name stickered to the bottom, he couldn't help the pulse his hands gave to the back of her chair. 
Would she notice? Was the connecting line thick enough to spot? 
Labeled on the bottom of the bottle was the word lovie printed in white ink on the black sticker. 
"Hey," (Y/N) called, her voice lilting, "That's me!" 
She pulled the bottle towards him, showing off the proof with a warming smile on her lips. 
His lungs squeezed even as he tried to play it off, squinting at the bottle as if reading it for the first time. "It is, isn't it?" 
"Did you do that on purpose?" she asked, alternating her hands once Mari gave a small tap to her wrist. 
"Maybe," he murmured. Did he sound as breathless as he felt?
(Y/N)'s mouth pulled into a bubbly smile—just as bright and attention grabbing as the first time he met her. "Harry," she crooned his name, the syllables cradled on her tongue, "I didn't know you did that. It's so sweet." 
There was a moment where he wondered if this was the moment. Was this the moment to share that of course he would name one of these shades after her, as this whole thing was an ode to his feelings for her. Was this warehouse being used as their set the perfect place to tell her what every single shade meant to him and how it was tied to her? It wouldn't be so bad, he thought. 
Instead, Harry only bashfully shrugged, tipping his shy smile towards his feet. "'M happy y'like it." 
Settling her hands for Mari to begin painting, (Y/N) still kept her attention tipped towards Harry. "Is that why you wanted me to be in the shoot?" she asked, leaning towards where he was still stationed behind her chair, "So, there's, like, platonic love in there too for Valentine's?" 
Harry's lungs squeezed for a different reason this time. Platonic love between friends. That's why he named a polish after her in his most romantic collection to date. 
"Something like that," he settled on, hoping she didn't catch the way his smile fell just a hair. 
Though (Y/N) parted her lips to offer a response, she was cut off before she could take a breath. Harry Lambert was fluttering by the stations, keeping an eye on every model readying for the campaign before he met Harry. 
"Sue, would you help me bring in all the clothing, please?" he asked, a tenor of stress entering his voice. 
Breaking away from (Y/N)'s chair, Harry didn't hesitate before nodding his head. "Course. Where do y'need me?" 
Vaguely, Harry Lambert pointed towards the set pieces before he shook his head. "Just follow me." 
Absently, Harry tossed over his shoulder to (Y/N), "I'll be right back, lovie." 
When he heard a small okay peep from her, he looked towards her only to see her already blinking at him with admiration in her eyes. No wonder he felt so warm.
—————
Harry was sure his dimples were deep in his cheeks as he leaned over Molly's shoulder, looking at the photos popping up on the computer screen as every shot was uploaded. Unsurprisingly, his favorites were of (Y/N).
Her makeup and hair was done minimally in true Pleasing style, leaving everything sheer and pastel. Her nails were glimmering in the light, dreamy filters to be added to the shots that would accentuate the glitter in the varnish. She looked entirely too cozy in the large pink crewneck clad on her torso and the comfy lounge shorts hugging her hips. Though there was still a stiffness as she transitioned between poses, as if waiting for someone to yell at her to fix her stance, he could see her growing more and more comfortable among the set. She made friends with a few of the other models, making it much easier for her to fit into those group shots and allow her laughter to filter through the room. 
It made him feel an undeniable hint of pride seeing her grow so comfortable in front of the camera. He knew she never much preferred being in front of the camera like this, so every small breath of progress she made had his heart glowing for her. 
Watching every shot come in over Molly's shoulder, Harry was almost disappointed when the photographer called for a cut; the lighting needed to be adjusted apparently with extra props being brought in before the focus would shift to the colorful end of the campaign. He stepped back, giving however many assistants were helping out all the space they needed to take care of every minute change. 
As the models scattered, (Y/N) made a beeline back towards Harry, ushering out of the way as quickly as possible. With everyone distracted, he didn't hesitate before he draped his arms around her shoulders in a loose hug. 
"How are y'feeling?" he asked, offering her a quiet smile, "Y'look like you're having fun." 
(Y/N) leant into him, her cheek smushed against the blocked muscle of his chest. "I am, but I'm getting tired. I don't know how you do this all the time." 
A breath of laughter left his lips at her mumbling. "'S surprisingly exhausting, isn't it? Being the center of attention really takes a lot out of a person." 
"No wonder you can fall asleep anywhere," she mused, playing along, "Your life is so hard." 
"I've been trying to tell you," he smiled, pulsing his arms around her when he realized just how hard she was leaning into him. 
She'd been on her feet from the second she had her makeup and hair finished and there were still hours left of her day, even after lunch was served. As much as he was teasing, he was sure she truly was rather exhausted with this being her first time being more than a spectator on set. 
A companionable silence settled between them, Harry not needing to peek to know that she'd had shuttered her eyes while he hugged her. From the corner of his eye, there was a familiar production assistant flittering around with the polaroid camera Harry Lambert had passed off earlier in the day, tasked with documenting the day for behind-the-scenes content. Like a sixth sense, Harry swore he could feel the lens focusing on him and (Y/N), but he didn't flinch back or turn to spot the assistant. 
Instead, he stayed right where he was with (Y/N) in his arms even when the camera clicked and light flashed over the space. 
—————
"I'll be done in, like, ten minutes, 'kay?" Harry murmured, dropping his bag by the station (Y/N) had claimed for the day, "Lambert said there were only a couple of totes left, so I won't take long." 
"Okay," (Y/N) nodded, matching his eyes in the mirror as she pulled out makeup wipes, "I should be done by then." 
Harry lingered behind her for a moment, eyes bright in the reflection, before he stepped away. (Y/N) felt her skin warm in his wake, heart fumbling in its beats before she settled in her chair. She made a point to fix her attention to the makeup wipe she was skimming over her skin, keeping her eyes forward instead of following after him. 
The other models had cleared out as soon as the photographer had called for a wrap, leaving production behind to clean up and clear out for the night. Harry had, of course, volunteered to help clean as much as he could for the night causing (Y/N) to stay back with him. She had helped break down stations and pack props before finally retiring to the final standing station so she could get un-ready herself. 
From her peripheral, (Y/N) spotted Molly bustling around, trusty clipboard in hand. Catching her eye in the mirror, Molly finally paused her constant rushing with her muscles visibly relaxing. 
"I've barely been able to talk to you today," Molly said in greeting as she approached (Y/N)'s station, gifting a small hug with an arm around her shoulders. "Thank you for helping out today." 
"Of course," (Y/N) smiled, the bulbs around the mirror catching the shimmering stickers on her nails that only made her smile stretch wider. "Thank you for letting me be a part of the shoot. I had a lot of fun." 
Molly shifted her weight and leant against (Y/N)’s chair, her features softened. "I could tell. Harry was so worried for you this morning," she shared, "He felt bad, like he had made you say yes when you didn't really want to do this." 
Wiping the light mascara off her eyes, (Y/N) shrugged, "You know it's not really my thing, but he said this one was really important to him. I'm really happy I did it, though—the collection is gorgeous, you guys really did so well with this one." 
 "All of the ideas were H's, so I can't really take any credit for it. Lambert and I just put it all in production," Molly shared, fondness on her features. "We only told him we wanted to do a Valentine's inspired collection, and he already had all of these ideas. We weren't planning to do a dual release, but he'd had so many that he wanted to add that it turned into what we have now." 
"He didn't tell me that," (Y/N) chirped, feeling herself begin to soften. She had known Harry had a large hand in the creative side of these collections, but she hadn't known that he had brought all of the ideas to the table for this one. "I don't know where he gets all of his inspiration between writing and everything with this. He never stops." 
(Y/N)'s teasing comment prompted Molly to laugh along with her, both of them familiar with how hard Harry tended to push himself both creatively and physically. 
"Like, you don't know," Molly said, amusement carrying over her words. 
A pinch touched at (Y/N)'s brows, her hand slowing over her skin to leave her mascara as only smudges under her eyes. "What do you mean?" 
It was Molly's turn to cant her head, her lashes fluttering as she blinked at (Y/N)'s reflection. "I thought that was why you decided to finally be a part of the shoot. That Harry told you." 
For a heartbeat, (Y/N) swore she was in some kind of movie scene. The theatrics of the moment seemed to be blown out of proportion, if only in her eyes. 
"Told me about what?" 
At this, Molly seemingly realized that she may have hinted at something (Y/N) hadn't known anything about. She pursed her lips as if she wanted to keep in her next words, but both of them knew she didn't have much of a choice now that she had started on this avenue. 
"That it's you—the inspiration for the collection. He wasn't very good at hiding it before he finally just told Lambert. All of the shades have something to do with you." 
(Y/N) was hyper aware of Molly's words, even if the sound of her heart pumping began to flood through her ears. 
Strings began to connect throughout the last month since he initially showed her the samples of the polishes. The crew neck he claimed he made with her in mind. The dual collection having four different shades of her favorite color—a fact about her he knew without a doubt. The varnish named after the pet name he had dubbed her as throughout the years, something he had immediately tied to her when she had pointed it out just that morning. 
Maybe it was the new information getting to her head, but more and more pieced itself together. That lingering look he gave her in the mirror just moments earlier felt like more evidence, including the way he held her between shots today, tiny moments that didn't feel out of the ordinary for him. Now those memories could be tinted in rose as moments that were only ordinary because it was between the two of them. 
"Oh," (Y/N) simply sounded, dropping her eyes from Molly's with a flutter of her lashes.
A beat passed before Molly piped up with an apology in her tone. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I thought you knew, or I wouldn't have said anything." 
"No, no, don't be sorry!" (Y/N) rushed, turning in her seat to match her eyes truly, "It's okay, I'm just surprised." 
Casting her eyes around the dwindling room, Molly lowered her voice by the time she matched (Y/N)'s gaze once more. "Good surprise?" 
Before (Y/N) could give an answer—one she wasn't even sure of—Harry joined their group, He reached towards his bag on the vanity, lookin at the two women with a question in his eyes. "Did you need a couple more minutes?" he asked, not-so-discreetly looking at the shadows left under (Y/N)'s eyes. 
She could feel her stilted smile on her lips, but (Y/N) hoped Harry wouldn't notice. "Why? Did I miss something?" 
Molly made a quiet getaway with a quick pat to Harry's shoulder, taking his attention for a moment as he gave a small way and murmured his goodbye. For a split second, Molly shot (Y/N) a sheepish glance before she was hustling through the space once more. 
When Harry returned to (Y/N), his gaze was scrutinizing this time, a pinch to his brows as he ducked his head to be level with her. 
"I don't think so, no," he said, answering her teasing remark. Reaching out, he gently dragged his fingertips over the soft skin of her under eye, picking up some of the smudgy mess on the pads of his fingers. Her breath caught in her throat at the touch, a stillness touching her muscles she hoped he wouldn't catch. He made a show of inspecting his hands with a comically deep frown on his lips. "Thought I saw something, but, no, y'got it all. Ready to go?" 
Looking at her through the fan of his lashes, (Y/N) saw the teasing gleam to his eyes, though she swore there was something more floating in his irises. 
Had that always been there?
"Um," she mumbled, dropping back into the moment, "Yeah, I'm ready." 
The amusement in Harry's eyes faded at her stilted answer. Creases appeared between his eyes as he gazed at her, his bag loose in his hand. "Y'alright?" 
"Yeah," she attempted to chirp, hopping out of her chair, "I think the day is just catching up to me and all. Just got really tired." 
"Well, then," he started, standing to the full of his height before slinging an arm over her shoulder, "let's get y'home, lovie." 
When he gave a small pulse to the cuff of her shoulder, his fingers denting the soft of her arm, (Y/N) tried to remember if it always felt that charged when he touched her. 
—————
"Hey, you." 
Harry held back a sigh when (Y/N) reached his open arms, burying his nose into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his middle. He settled instead for shuttering his eyes and sinking into her hold. It'd been a long week since he'd seen her last after taking her home after the Pleasing shoot; both he and (Y/N) seemed to be too busy to send more than a few texts to one another throughout the day. It wasn't a secret to him that (Y/N) was the brightest party of his day, but he hadn't realized just how good he had it until she had pulled back those days. 
"How are you?" (Y/N) murmured, her voice muffled from the way her cheek was squished against his chest, "I feel like I've barely talked to you since last week." 
"Me too," he said, drawing away just enough to see her face with his arms a warm loop around her, "I've been alright, though. You?" 
Her eyes skated down his features long enough Harry swore he could feel her gaze like a touch from her hand. His skin warmed in her wake, a pinkened blush surely rising to the surface of his cheeks. 
"I've been good," she finally answered, the heartbeat between his question and her response seeming hours long instead of mere seconds. "Just tired still. I feel like I haven't recovered from last weekend, yet." 
"'M not surprised, y'worked hard." Harry dropped himself back into the moment, clearing his throat. "Molly emailed me some preliminary shots the other day." 
Perking up in his arms, her eyes brightening. "She did? How did they look?" 
A lopsided smile poked at the corner of his mouth. "I can show you, if y'want. Jus' need to grab m'laptop from m'room." 
All it took was a giddy nod from her and a quiet yes, please! that had him untangling from her arms and heading towards his room.
As much as he wanted to stay right where he was in her arms, he needed a breath of air. Perhaps distance, no matter how small it was, really did make the heart grow fonder and Harry wasn't immune to the effects. 
His paces were measured as he scaled his stairs to his bedroom, grabbing his laptop from where it was charging on the side of his bed. The email in question wasn't hard to find, especially since one of his favorite shots—the polaroid one production assistant had nabbed of he and (Y/N) snuggling during a break—was now his home screen on his phone. (And, one of (Y/N)'s official shots was now her contact photo). 
Heading downstairs, he found her already making herself at home on his couch. With a blanket his mom had knitted for him thrown over her legs, she was scrolling through her phone despite the streaming service pulled up on his television. 
"Comfy already, lovie?" he laughed, crossing from the landing to take his own spot next to her. 
"A little," she answered, decidedly reserved in her teasing. That had been much of how it was this past week, (Y/N) too distracted, or tired, or whatever it was to play with him too much. He hoped it truly was nothing more than being a little tired. 
Leaning in close, he settled his laptop on his thighs as he pulled up the attachments.  Beginning to card through the photos, he offered a short explanation, "They're not edited completely yet, but we've got some of the effects added. We're still picking which shots are going to be used for the site and which will be used for the socials, but it all turned out really well." 
Even as every picture lit up his screen, the pad of his finger on the touchpad, Harry favored watching (Y/N)'s reactions as opposed to looking at the shots themselves. He wanted to know if she loved it as much as he did. 
The bright colors cast washes of pale color over her skin, shining like the moon at times with others giving a petal softness to the high points of her face. He could tell when a picture of her appeared with the way she rolled her lips between her teeth, a quiet bashfulness softening the edges of her features. 
"Wait, wait, go back," (Y/N) asked, leaning forward as if to get a closer look at a missed photo. 
Peeling his gaze away from her profile, Harry looked to his laptop to see the photo that had caught her attention was the same one that he favored. An artistically framed shot of their polaroid filled his screen, the nature of the camera already giving fuzzied edges to their forms, an extra set of dreamy editing adding that much more to the sight. 
"Y'like this one?" he murmured, a delicate edge to his voice. 
"When did they take this one?" she asked, her voice a quiet whisper for only him to hear. 
"During that break, remember? Lambert and Molly had an assistant going around to get production shots, and they caught us," he smiled, reliving that moment with her in his arms and the warmth of her form against his, "We're thinking about using this in one of the social shots." 
(Y/N) was silent then, her eyes flitting over every pixel that made up the photo. He hadn't expected her to go so quiet. 
"But, we don't have to use it if y'don't want to," Harry carefully offered, already rearranging the composition of the offered rollout to accommodate her if she was so uncomfortable. "I can talk to Mo—" 
"No, no, that's not—" she started, stumbling some through her words when she managed to meet his eyes finally, "I just... Can I ask you something?" 
The connotations of the phrase had Harry's heart fumbling and palms sweating right away. "'Course. What is it?" 
Hesitating as she rolled her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) let his words hang between them for a few heartbeats too long. 
"Molly told me something after the shoot," she started, her words careful and calculated, "I wanted to know if it was true." 
He couldn't imagine what Molly would have shared that would have had (Y/N) so cryptic and unsure. "Okay," he offered, drawling over the word. 
"She said..." (Y/N) paused, dropping her eyes from his until they landed on the hollow of his throat—a safe place to look when she was too afraid of his reaction. His palms became that much more clammy. "She said something about how this collection was about... me. That you told Harry that you had all these ideas because they were from me." 
In the same moment that time attempted to stop, everything in Harry's body went into overdrive. Was it safe to feel his heartbeat in the base of his throat? Was it normal to want to suck in more air than his lungs needed? 
What was he supposed to say to that?
More importantly: what answer did (Y/N) want to hear? 
Would she be excited to hear that yes, everything Molly had told her was true and he just didn't know how to tell her himself. It was easier to manifest it all into cute little nail polishes and matching stickers. Or did she want him to say no, Molly's imagination had run a bit too wild, or she had heard him wrong, or, or, or—
"Yes," he suddenly blurted out, his mouth ahead of his brain. 
(Y/N) blinked at him. Her eyes floated back to his, bewildered at his blunt answer. "Yes, it's true?" 
The dam that was his filter had too big of a crack to be properly repaired, it appeared. There was no holding back the river. 
"Yes," he affirmed, a weight in his chest pushing the words out before he could offer more thought, "The—um—the yellow one with the gold glitter, it matches the dress y'wore the first time y'came to one of m'shows. And, pink is your favorite color, so I wanted to make as many different ones as we could so you'd have as many as y'wanted to wear. I don't even know if y'have this lipstick anymore, but the red was to match the one y'were wearing when we met. A-All of them are for—about you." 
By the time he managed to zip his lips, there was still plenty to be said but he figured the rambling was more than enough to both humiliate himself and put (Y/N) on the spot. 
The longer she didn't say anything in response, the more Harry sweat. His thoughts were nothing but a swirl heading down a drain, too heavy and incoherent to make sense of.
"(Y/N), I—I didn't m—" 
As quick as he opened his mouth like a guppy, fumbling over his words, he was silenced with (Y/N) pressing her kiss to his lips. 
It was startling at first, taking every ribbon holding him together unraveled, turning him into a scramble. It was only when he felt a careful smile spread over her mouth and she drew away a hair that Harry came alive. 
This was what he'd dreamt of, why was he wasting it? 
Molding his lips to hers, Harry tasted the soft curve of her cupid's bow when he tucked his bottom lip between her two. Faint traces of a fruity chapstick remained on her mouth, though the only taste he got was her. There was no other way to describe the fragrance other than it being (Y/N). Every soft parting and letting of their mouths gave him a rush of that essence, pulling him in deeper and deeper each time. 
The laptop on his thighs was a forgotten object as he turned his body to face her, the device sliding somewhere among the cushions of his couch. His hand landed carefully on the soft of her cheek, feeling a warmth blooming in her skin under his palm. He could feel every pacing of her muscles, feeling how her body moved for no other purpose than to kiss him. It brought a pinch to his brow, an unfurling happening in his chest he couldn't even begin to unpack right then.
While it wasn't an urgent, explicit kiss, Harry didn't want to pull away first. Hours could have been spent on his couch just like this, if not for the fact (Y/N) decided she needed air more than his kiss. 
Following her cue, he gave her some space when she drew away. Her skin was warm as she blinked her eyes open to match his own. He watched as a smile spread over her lips the longer she looked at him.
"You like me?" 
A peal of laughter fell from Harry's lips, bursting through his chest and filling his bones. 
"Maybe. Why?" 
(Y/N)'s laughter filled the one place his own happiness couldn't fill quite as well: his heart.
—————
     Pleasing's Cupid Collection available now. 
(Y/N) barely noticed the notification sliding down the top of her screen, seeing as she was already on the main page of the brand's website. Refreshing the site, the homepage completely rearranged to showcase the dual collection now available for patrons to browse, her own face flashing in the campaign video playing at the top of the page. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. 
Was this how Harry felt every time he released music? Or really anything for the world to see?
With the way her heart hammered in her chest, she wasn't sure how he survived things like this. 
Another notification pinged at the top of her phone. Pleasing had just made a post on Instagram. 
Tapping on the dropdown, she was taken from the Pleasing page and to her instagram app. The new post popped up automatically. 
The shot showcased a collection of polaroid photos, some of behind the scenes shots of official photos for the campaign and others showing candid moments between the models and production during the making of the shoot. They were all laid out on a satiny pink sheet, a dreamy filter adding gleaming lights and iridescent shifts throughout the page. 
There was one familiar polaroid that caught her eye—one that was barely within frame but something she had seen enough times she could spot with the barest of pixels. Just barely, she could see herself leaning against the chest of someone who was almost completely cut out of the frame, leaving only a set of arms to be seen wrapped around her shoulders with her eyes closed in contentment. 
Just barely, through the haze of the filter, (Y/N) could see a small tattoo on her companion's hand: a black cross. 
As if being summoned by her thoughts alone, those same arms draped themselves around her from where she stood in the middle of the kitchen. Harry's chin settled on her shoulder, looking at her screen as she pulled up the comments on the photos. 
"What's everyone saying?" he murmured, his lips pressing against the column of her throat in a delicate kiss. 
The smile that landed on her lips was tender and instinctual, something that settled there without her permission. She didn't have to truly read any of the commented reactions to know the public's opinion. 
"They love it," she told him, voice a quiet croon. 
"Yeah?" His smile was audible in his tone. "I think this one's gonna be the most popular yet." 
"You think so?" (Y/N) questioned, swiping out of the reactions if only to see the glimpse of their polaroid once more. 
Placing a gentle hand on her cheek, Harry tipped her chin to face him. There was a gleam in his eyes that (Y/N) never realized was so familiar until the first time they kissed. There was a small tug to the corner of his lips, a single dimple denting his cheek. 
"Yeah. I've jus' got a feeling." 
He dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers.
—————
:)))) thank you for reading, so sorry if there's any mistakes and if theres any questions or anything you have please please send them in! I hope you enjoyed :)
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gurugirl · 7 months
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Based on this request
best friend's dad!harry x reader | forbidden relationship
Summary: Your best friend's dad, Mr. Styles, is quite good at giving advice, amongst other things OR How your illicit affair with Mr. Styles began
Word Count: 6.3k
Warning: 18+ only, smut, cheating, age gap
best friend's dad!harry masterlist
Mr. Styles had a way about him that you admired. He was sure of himself and was good at just about everything he did. He was also really good at listening and giving advice. When you told him about how your boyfriend had hurt your feelings and how you were considering breaking up with him he told you that you could do better, that you deserved better.
And you knew he was right. He was always right. So when you broke up with Randy you didn’t once look back or regret it.
To Mr. Styles: I did it. Thank you for your advice, Mr. Styles.  
You texted Harry as you got into your car in the parking lot of the sandwich shop where you broke up with your boyfriend.
Fae would probably call you weird for texting her dad. She’d wonder what you were doing with his number in the first place.
But Harry insisted you text him after breaking up with Randy. He said he wanted to make sure you were okay and that you’d gone through with it. That he didn’t want to hear any excuses as to why you couldn’t do it. So he gave you his number and he took yours, telling you that if you didn’t reach out to him he’d be calling you himself.
From Mr. Styles: You’re welcome, Y/n. Where are you right now?
You started your car up just as he texted back.
To Mr. Styles: The parking lot at Dixie’s. I’m about to drive home.
You could see that he’d read the text right away and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the text bubbles indicating he was texting you back.
Fae would also hate that you had the biggest crush on her dad. The biggest. It was unhealthy actually, the kind of crush you had.
See, Mr. Styles wasn’t just someone you admired for his confidence and thoughtful advice. He was also gorgeous. His eyes were seafoam, crystal green. His lips were pink berry tinted. When he smiled he had dimples that carved into his cheeks. His jawline was chiseled and his dark hair was thick and wavy. He was tall with a fit body and broad shoulders, tattoos, big hands, a deep voice, and the most sex appeal you’d ever seen in one person.
From Mr. Styles: I’ll meet you at your apartment. I’m in the area anyway. I’d like to hear how the conversation went with your boyfriend.
From Mr. Styles: Ex-boyfriend.
You’d just broke up with Randy but you’d already forgotten all about him as you texted your best friend’s dad back with a large grin on your face.
To Mr. Styles: Okay. See you soon!
Your apartment complex was a little run down. It was in a safeish area but it was what you could afford with your wage as a waitress.
When you pulled into the parking lot you spotted Harry’s car immediately. His car stood out like a sore thumb amongst all the used, beat-up, and older models.
You quickly walked toward his Land Rover and watched him get out. You slowed your stroll to take him in.
That was another thing about him. He always looked so well put together. Harry was wearing dark blue slacks with a crisp white button-up shirt tucked in, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a few buttons undone from the top down, leather loafers, and his hair was coifed on his head just so. Rings on his fingers, and his signature cross necklace, the pendant dangling right at the top center of his well-defined pecs. A gorgeous sight.
“Hello, darling,” he greeted you and pulled you in for an easy hug.
You hugged back and smiled as you pressed your cheek to his shoulder, he smelled nice.
Backing away from the hug you looked up at him, “Hi, Mr. Styles.”
He loved that you were so polite. So sweet. Yet he knew that you had a crush on him and that he loved the most.
You led him up to your apartment. This was the first time he would come inside. He’d picked up Fae a few times so he knew where you lived. But the idea that he’d be stepping into your little home made you feel nervous.
You kept your place tidy most of the time. You had pictures framed and hung everywhere. Some art pieces that you made yourself for fun. Your couch was cheap but it looked nice. Your rug was from Ikea and was a splurge.
But that wasn’t why you were nervous. It was because this man you’d lusted after for years was coming into your private space with you. Alone.
You weren’t dumb. You knew the implications. You understood on some level that Harry thought you were pretty. But of course, he was married. And he was your father’s age. So it was unlikely that this meant anything. But still. The fact that he was conveniently in the area and said he was coming over, knowing you wouldn’t say no… well it certainly wasn’t out of the question that something could happen.
Harry stood close behind you as you unlocked and opened your door, stepping in and allowing him space to enter behind you before you closed the door. Sunlight came through your windows and it was bright enough that you didn’t bother to flick on any extra lights out of habit. You didn’t like to turn on lights when you didn’t need to. Who wanted to pay a needlessly higher electricity bill?
You looked up at Harry as he scrutinized your space in silence for a few beats.
“S’nice, Y/n. Clean and uncluttered. I’m impressed.” He moved past you to look at your wall of framed photos.
You followed and stood next to him, “Well, what did you think? That I was a slob or something,” you chuckled as you looked at your photos.
Harry turned to look at you and the slight grin on his face gave way to a wider smile, “Okay, sassy girl. I was just giving you a compliment. No need to get mouthy.”
You laughed and looked down at your cuticles, not knowing how to respond exactly. He had you feeling a bit empty-headed in that moment.
But then you brought your gaze back up to his and remembered your manners, “Would you like something to drink, Mr. Styles? I’ve got water, strawberry soda, orange juice… uh… almond milk–“
“A glass of water will be perfect. Thank you.”
Harry watched you traipse to your kitchen quickly as he continued to look around as he sat down on your little couch and waited for you.
Harry wasn’t sure exactly why he was with you alone in your apartment. He knew he shouldn’t be there. He knew better than to entertain the kinds of dirty thoughts he often had about his daughter’s best friend. But, well, here he was. And you were adorable wearing your short cutoff jean shorts and white razorback tank top.
When you returned with two glasses of water you sat down next to Harry and nervously smiled.
“Thank you, darling,” Harry lifted the glass upward before bringing it to his lips and taking a big gulp. You followed suit and then placed the glass on your side table.
“Tell me about how it went. Did he try to change your mind?”
You swallowed and nodded, “It was hard. I hated doing it but also it felt really good. He promised me he could change and asked me to give him another chance. But I just remembered what you told me, about how I deserve better and I kept that in mind and stood my ground.”
Harry kept his eyes on you as you spoke and every bit of your body and skin that Harry’s irises landed on heated up from his gaze. You wiggled in your seat under his examination.
“Stood your ground. Good girl.”
You could have passed out. He’d never called you that before. And the way it sounded coming from his mouth had your throat going dry.
“You do deserve better, you know. You’re too good to waste your time on a boy like Rudy.”
“Randy.” You corrected.
“What’s that?” Harry raised his brows at you.
“Uh… his name is Randy. You said Rudy.”
Harry nodded slowly and looked down at your lips with a smirk before settling his gaze back onto your eyes, “Right. Randy. Definitely would be a shame to get his name wrong.”
You nervously laughed and shook your head, “Oh it’s okay! You know… I don’t care actually. Not important.”
Harry watched you squirm nervously as he licked his lips. As if he was readying himself for a meal. You did look mouthwatering. You pretty much always did. And he could admit that he’d like a taste at the very least.
“And what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
Shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders you looked down at your lap. His intense gaze was making you blurry and dumb. It was like listening to him speak another language and you had to translate the words in your head before you could understand and then respond.
“I’m… uh… was just gonna maybe call Fae. Go out later since I’m off tomorrow.”
Harry nodded, “And where would you go out to?”
You cleared your throat and kept your eyes down so you could breathe, “Thinking about that bar just up the street. We haven’t been yet and it’s so nearby–“
“I need you to look at me when you’re speaking to me.”
You’d never whipped your head upward so fast in your life. That was another thing about Mr. Styles. If he told you to do something you never hesitated. “Sorry, sir.”
He kept an easy grin on his face as he leaned his back into your couch cushions, crossing his ankle over his knee, and then moving his arm along the back of the couch, “No need to be sorry. Just want to see your pretty eyes when you’re talking is all.”
You could feel the warmth from his thigh radiating against your bare leg. You looked down to see how close he was sitting to you before quickly planting your gaze back on his.
He saw your glance downward and looked himself to note the proximity, “Am I sat too close to you?” You shook your head quickly, “No. That’s fine. The couch is small anyway. Can’t really help it.” You smiled and tried to chill out but the way he was dragging his irises over your skin and along the material of your shirt that stretched softly over your breasts before bringing them back up to look into your eyes had you sweating. And you hated that you’d begun to grow a little wet in your panties.
“Can I ask you a personal question? You don’t have to answer but I’m curious about something.”
You tried to focus your eyes on his and not look away as you swallowed and nodded, “Yes. Sure.”
He brought his arm across his body and touched the side of your neck, gently brushing the pads of his fingers against your pulse point causing you to inhale sharply, “This. Is this from Randy?”
You blinked your eyes and put your fingers on the spot he was touching and remembered that Randy had given you a hickey. When you first noticed that gave you a hickey it was quite large. You’d been covering it with makeup but now that it had mostly faded you didn’t think anyone would notice it.
You nodded, “Yeah. From a while ago. It was really big but now it’s mostly gone.”
“Did it feel good when he gave it to you?”
You dropped your mouth open in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to ask that. But you also didn’t want to not answer the man.
You smiled and dropped your hand down into your lap while Harry’s fingers remained on your neck, softly brushing at your sensitive skin, “It did. I hate it now because it’s from him, but… at the time… yeah.”
Mr. Styles nodded and you felt his thumb press over the spot before lowering down to the top of your clavicle.
“Did he always make you feel good?”
You were barely holding it together. Between the way he was touching your neck, and how intense his eyes were on you it felt like you were having an out-of-body experience.
“What do you mean?”
“You two had sex, correct? Or at least fooled around a bit?”
You began to pant as Harry’s finger wrapped gently along the side of your neck, his thumb at the front softly stroking your flesh. “Yeah. Um… not always. No.”
“Okay. Did he make you come?”
Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as you sucked air into your lungs and felt his thigh press against yours.
Shaking your head you opened your eyes back up to look at him, “No. Never.”
Harry cocked his head and furrowed his brows, “Never? You’ve never made yourself come either?”
“Oh! I mean… yeah. I just mean that I never came with Randy. He wasn’t… didn’t listen.”
Nodding his head his furrowed brow softened, “Sounds about right. Has anyone ever made you come? Or just yourself?”
You knew he could feel the way your blood was pumping through your pulse point. Your heart was going wild in your chest as you watched Harry’s eyes darken, “Just by myself.”
“S’what I thought.” Suddenly Harry’s hand left your neck as he stood up from the couch. He put his hand out to you to grab, “Let’s do an experiment. But we’ll need to move this into your bedroom if you don’t mind.”
Harry pulled you up from the couch and kept his big palm wrapped around yours as he walked you to your bedroom.
Harry pointed to your bed as he looked at you. “Climb up, love. Don’t be shy.”
You let out a small nervous laugh through your nose as you sat on your bed and let your legs dangle off the edge. You watched as he got onto his knees in front of you and began untying your tennis shoes, taking each one off before pulling your socks off your feet.
He looked up at you softly as he put his hands on your knees, “Let me show you what it’s supposed to feel like. So next time some asshole says he doesn’t know how to get you off you’ll remember this and you’ll know the loser’s just too lazy to work for your pleasure,” he slid his hands up your thighs as you began to nod quickly. His warm hands gliding over your skin and to the fray of your jean shorts was more erotic than anything Randy had ever done with you.
“Is that okay? You want me to show you?”
You continued nodding as your breaths deepened. You could already feel your nipples tightening under your thin bra and you were positive Harry could see it.
“Is that a yes? I’d like to hear you say it to me. I appreciate the nod but your voice is too pretty not to use.”
“Yes, sir. Please.”
Harry grinned, “And I get a please too? So sweet for me.”
Harry sat up so his hips were against the side of your bed as he plucked your button from its spot and then unzipped slowly, “We’re gonna get these clothes off of you. I need access to all your bits. Understand?”
“Um… yes. Of course.” You pulled at the bottom hem of your shirt to pull it off but Harry grasped your wrists and tsk’d at you.
“Ah ah ah… Let me show you what’s it like to be treated as well as you deserve. We’re not in any hurry. Are we?”
Shaking your head you whispered, “No. Sorry.”
Harry pulled your hands to his mouth and kissed the inside of each of your wrists, “Don’t be sorry.”
Mr. Styles began to gently tug your shorts down your legs, leaving you in your yellow Sponge Bob panties. That was embarrassing. You hadn’t expected anyone to be seeing your panties and you’d totally forgotten which pair you threw on that morning until Harry smirked and inspected the cotton fabric stretched over your hips, “Cute. I like these,” he rubbed his thumbs over the edge of the fabric at your hips slowly before taking your tank top and pulling it up over your head as he stood up.
You were adorable. Little yellow cartoon panties and a white stretchy bra with a tiny pink ribbon at the center. Mismatched but practical he supposed. Didn’t matter anyway. They would soon be off.
Harry put his big hands on your hips and pushed you deeper into the bed, crawling with you. You propped yourself up by your elbows as he smoothed his hands up your tummy and to the underside of your breasts before bringing one hand down to your left thigh and pushing it outward just a bit. He turned his gaze to the fabric of your wet crotch. The yellow material was darker where your arousal had seeped out.
He licked his lips again and grunted as he thumbed along the elastic that clung to your inner thigh and he sucked in a sharp breath, “So wet already? Honestly, I didn’t expect this, Y/n. S’a very nice surprise for me. Do you get wet easily?”
You shook your head. Your lips were already parted as you began to respond, “No. Usually takes a bit.”
Harry grinned as he thumbed the wet patch on your panties and quickly found the spot where your clit was, “I consider this the highest form of a compliment. Like a little gift just for me.”
You let out a shaky breath as you watched him smooth his thumb over your panties and press into your button before bringing his digit to his mouth and sucking it into his mouth.
He had a devious smirk on his face when he pulled his thumb out and spoke, “No shower today?”
You gasped and tried to close your thighs together but he pushed your legs apart, his fingers digging into the soft inner part of your thighs. You put an arm up over your eyes to shield yourself from embarrassment.
It was true. You hadn’t showered that day. Not yet. You planned on going out to celebrate being single with Fae later on and you’d shower before that, but you hadn’t had the time yet. It’d been a little over 24 hours since you had.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Y/n. Your little pussy’s so fragrant so I just had to ask. Hate when it doesn’t smell or taste like pussy. It’s just another nice little surprise for me is all.”
You felt him pull your panties down your legs and you moved your arm to watch. You were mortified. You knew you were “fragrant” down there. Which was why you’d planned on showering before going out. But now you had your wet pussy bare and smelly before Harry Styles who pointed this fact out to you.
“I was going to shower before going out tonight…” you moaned when he dragged his thumb through your crease.
“You’re not going out tonight. You and I have work to do here. Don’t we?”
Your eyes were burning and your vision was fuzzy, which you knew to be from lust. You were so turned on that all your senses were being affected by him.
Nodding your head you spoke softly, “Yeah. Okay.”
Harry sat up and leaned over your frame his face coming in close to yours, “I forgot my manners completely. Got so caught up with you. Made me feel so needy that I nearly forgot we haven’t even kissed yet.”
You were just a melty little puddle of breaths and pumping blood under him as his lips pressed into yours. He tried to start off slowly. You could tell he was going in gently but you were shaky and out of your mind. You licked over his lips and grasped onto his collar to pull him into you and deepen the kiss.
Harry sputtered a laugh but was cut off when you licked your tongue into his mouth.
From there, Harry’s mouth pushed against yours hard and his lips and tongue guided your mouth. His fingers found your wet folds as he continued kissing you.
You gasped into his mouth when he slid two fingers inside of you. He hadn’t bothered to take his rings off and you could feel the metal against your soft skin as he pumped his long digits and in and out slowly.
When the bed was suddenly directly under your back, you realized he’d pushed you down flat as he parted from the kiss. He looked over your frame under him and his hands were sweeping over your bra before he kneaded gently, slowly pushing one hand underneath your back to unhook the clasp of your bra. You arched your back so he could reach it and the moment the metal hook was undone the stretchy fabric was pulled from your tits and Harry’s mouth was on you, sucking and lapping at your nipples
And then you heard him moan when he latched on particularly hard to one of your nipples and he placed his fingers back inside your cunt.
You could come. Just like that. His long fingers stretched and poked deep while his mouth worked over your tits softly before pulling your nipple harshly.
Sticking your fingers into his hair and closing your eyes you moaned loudly and began to writhe against his hand harder when you felt your orgasm close in. It was a shock how quickly it began to unwind but you were at Harry’s mercy and he was doing everything right.
Harry pushed himself up and smiled down at you with slick pink lips as he pulled his fingers from your cunt, “So sensitive too. How is it that you’ve never come with anyone, hmm? When you’re this reactive to me?” He circled his thumb over your clit teasingly and you bucked up into his hand and groaned just as he pulled it away.
Mr. Styles dipped in to kiss your lips again before moving down your body and hovering his face over your pussy as he looked up at you, “Do you want to come?”
You were already on edge, just about to tip into a new realm as you nodded hastily, “Yes, sir. I do.”
The smirk on his face was suddenly hidden as he lowered his lips to your clit and licked. The obnoxiously loud moan that fell from your lips had him laughing into your cunt as he lapped you up and reinserted his fingers.
His free hand held your opposite thigh down and the pressure that built up again was causing you to shake uncontrollably. You stuck your hands into his hair again and gasped at the way his lips worked your wet pussy, the way his fingers dug into you deeply and nudged into that yummy spot that you only ever got to enjoy with your vibrator.
“Ooh! My god! Mr. Styles! Mr. Styles…” You were powerless under him. The way he was sucking your clit into his mouth felt exquisite but at the same time, it was like your blood and guts were boiling hot and filling your limbs, searing your skin.
Harry hadn’t heard a woman squeal in a long time. He used to enjoy things like this with his wife but it had been a minute since she wanted to really play with him in the way he liked. All his skill and sex appeal were wasted all these years. But now he was getting to finally unleash his prowess on you. Such a delicate and sexy little thing. You deserved it. He imagined it more times than he should, doing the very thing he was at that moment, making you wobble and wet his face and shriek as you came.
He watched your soft tits shake and goosebumps cover your skin as he held you down and gently licked you as you came down from your release. It was incredible. So pretty to see you spread out and vulnerable for him.
When you finally opened your eyes Harry’s face was still between your legs. His cheek against your inner thigh as he looked up at you, “Better?”
You breathed out a laugh and nodded as you pushed yourself up to your elbows, “Yeah. Better.”
Harry sat back to his shins and you noticed right away the massive bulge pushing at the front of his pants. You reached your hand toward him and looked at the lump he was sporting, “Can I? Do you want…”
The grin on Harry’s face told you he knew what you were asking but he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He wanted you to say what you wanted, “Can you… what?”
“You’re hard.”
“Tends to happen when I’m eating pussy,” he licked his lips with his eyes on you.
“Do you want me to… like… give you a blow job?”
“Hmm…” Harry squinted his eyes as he began to undo his pants slowly, “Maybe. Would you be against letting me fuck you?”
Your heart rate increased once again. Sex? With this man? You were nodding quickly before the words left your mouth, “Yeah. I mean… I’m not against it. I’d like that. I… I don’t have any condoms here–“
Harry pulled at your wrist and shushed you, “It’s okay. If you don’t want to that’s fine. But I’m clean. Haven’t been with anyone but Fae’s mom in a very long time.”
“Oh.” The reminder that Harry was married to your best friend’s mom made you step outside of the moment as you looked down toward where he’d opened his pants. His grey boxer briefs peeked out from under, his clear erection curving beneath the fabric. He looked so yummy and you’d love to feel him. But this was wrong, wasn’t it?
Harry noticed your hesitation and he pulled his pants up as he started to tug at his zipper but you were quickly reaching for his hand and looking up at him with those sweet eyes he couldn’t stop thinking about, “No! Please. I want you. I’m on birth control. So… And I always used a condom before so I’m good.”
Harry raised his brows at you in question, “Positive? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better are you? You want me to fuck you?”
“So much. Yes. Please.”
His lips smashed against yours when he pulled you into his chest. You could feel his heart pounding under his shirt. He was excited too.
When he’d gotten you laid back and spread out he pulled his pants and briefs off and removed his shirt. You were sure his nice clothes were going to wind up wrinkled with the way he tossed them into the floor but he didn’t seem to care.
And you’d seen his body before at the beach when you went swimming, and in his house when he walked around after working out and didn’t bother putting on a shirt… But you’d never seen his cock. And certainly not hard and leaking like it was.
His heavy shaft swayed as he positioned himself back in between your legs and he pushed the tops of his thighs to the back of yours. You couldn’t help it when you reached down to stroke him. He was thick and warm and the smooth, ridged skin felt delicious under your palm.
“Feels so good having your little hand on me like that, Y/n. Don’t think you know how many times I’ve imagined this very moment.”
You were still slick from everything before but you felt yourself clench and drip just imagining how good it would feel to have him stuffed inside of you. He was long too. So you knew it would reach into your cervix and make you ache in the way your vibrator did.
“I’ve imagined it too. I’ve wanted this for a long time, Mr. Styles.”
Harry keened and sucked at his teeth as he rocked his hips softly and began to slide the underside of his shaft through your folds. You kept your palm over the top of him as he moved up and down, slowly wetting himself with you. He kept his eyes on yours as he nudged his tip into your clit and then to your entrance, “You ready? You really want this?”
“Yes! Please!” Your chest was heaving in anticipation as you moved your hand from his shaft and held onto his forearms.
It was slow at first. He entered your tight muscle with a small snap and pulled back before pushing in deeper. You could see his muscles straining, his dark tattoos against his tan skin, his hair falling over his forehead, pink lips parted, nostrils flaring. He was enjoying your body. It felt good for him and you could see that.
“Holy fuck…” he grunted as he continued to bury himself deeper inside. He was already shaking like a teenage virgin. Your tight pussy wrapped around him, coated him, opened up for him slowly…
You choked out a garbled moan when he finally bottomed out. It was deep and you were right. Your cervix felt his tip kissing it with each thrust.
He began to roll his hips a little faster as he sat up and pulled your legs over his thighs, lifting your bottom off the mattress so he could fuck into you deeper yet and rub your clit to make you tip over the edge before he did. He knew he was going to come unbelievably fast. You were too pretty and felt too fucking good.
Harry’s hands stayed at your hips to keep you in place over his thighs as he plunged into your wet cunt over and over again.
“Hear that, Y/n? Hear how we sound together?”
You moaned a yes and gasped at how full he felt inside of you. It was noisy. You were absolutely soaked and the syrupy sound of his wide cock dipping into your drippy pussy, parting your walls was dirty. Soppy.
“How’s it feel, Y/n? Tell me what you need.” Harry’s words came out in panted breaths as rolled into you and released one of your hips to manipulate your clit with his fingers causing you to coo loudly.
“Oh! Mr. Styles! It’s so good. So deep, Fuck!”
Your bed creaked under you as he began to work into you even more and push into you deeper. You seemed to enjoy the way his dick poked into your cervix so he’d give you more of that.
“Yeah? I’m so deep in your tummy? Gonna give me your come? Let me feel you fall apart on my cock like this? Hmm?”
The view of his thick shaft, shiny and creamy with you as he plunged into your entrance, your lips gripping him tight as he pulled back and pushed in, was going to be something he’d be fucking his fist to for a long time to come.
“Yes! Please!” Your tits were swaying as he swiveled his cock into you painfully deep, hips pasted to yours, only pushing in deeper and deeper, balls tucked into your bum, slick with the way your arousal had melted down over him as he fucked into you.   
Harry gasped and clenched his teeth at the way you squeezed around him tightly.
When he finally pulled back to his tip you both caught your breaths. He was so close to coming and you were on the edge already. Just as he intended.
He gently thumbed at your clit and watched your face contort, small puffs of breath and whiney gasps falling from your lungs.
“Y/n. Can you look at me, sweet girl?”
You peeled your eyes opened and set your pupils onto his. You were already looking absolutely fucked out, in a total daze, and that made him smile.
“Where do you want me to come? Want to know beforehand so I’m not doing anything you’re not okay with. Because I’m gonna come very soon.”
You swallowed and blinked your bleary eyes. Harry’s chest was rising and falling heavily and his skin was flushed.
“Want your come inside of me. Is that okay?”
Harry breathed out a laugh of disbelief and nodded, “More than okay. S’perfect in fact. You’re gonna milk my cock good, aren’t you? Want me to fill your tummy with up nice and full?” Harry dipped in a few inches before backing out to the tip again and you whimpered.
“Yes. I want to be full with you.”
Harry closed his eyes and called on all his strength to not come that very second. Your soft rounded eyes looking at him in that way that told him you needed him while his cock was inside of you was nearly too much. He was obsessed. There was no way he wouldn’t want to do this with you again.
But the moment he had composed himself and gotten his second wind he looked back down at your pretty body lying under him and he began to move into you again, getting deeper and deeper until his pace had you being pushed upward at each thrust. Your tits bounced and your bed creaked. Harry's hips rocking into yours was harsh, his skin smacking into yours, wet slushy sounds.
His thumb circled over you tightly again and you moaned as you grasped his thighs bent under yours.
Your eyes began to flutter as your body lost all control of its motions. Your mouth dropped open and your face twisted up. Harry watched you contort your mouth and the little noises you were making egged him on to pound into you harder as his thumb worked your clit back and forth.
Everything was wet. Harry’s whole lap was drenched in you. You’d dripped down your thighs and over his balls on the tops of his thighs. It was the exact kind of sex he’d been missing for so long. Messy and smelly and hot.
You suddenly gasped and then went quiet as your orgasm began to take over. You clenched and pulsed over Harry with your mouth wide, your entire body trembling.
“Ooh fuck me… Fuck, Y/n… Oh shit…” It was too good. Too decadent. The way your cunt clamped down and spasmed around his heavy cock sent him over the edge.
And just like he said, your pussy milked him for everything he was worth. He pushed into you deeply, groaning your name between curses as his balls tightened and emptied into his long shaft and pushed out the tip, spurts of his warm come flooding your insides as he stilled his hips against yours snugly.
You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you as he moaned your name. You forced your eyes open to look at him. To watch as he orgasmed inside of you, his come claiming your body and ruining you for anyone else. His head was thrown back and he held your hips possessively as he emptied everything he had into you.
Your brain was fuzzy and your ears rang as he lowered himself down over you and brought his mouth against yours softly.
He was still pulsing the slightest as your mouths moved together lazily. You put your hands into his hair and sighed into the kiss. You hadn’t felt so content in a long time. Maybe ever. He truly did know how to do it right. He said he was going to show you what it was supposed to feel like and he did. Now settling for anything less just didn’t make sense.
When he pushed himself up to look down at you he had a haphazard smile on his face, “How was that?” He knew the answer.
You laughed and grinned, “The best. Better than my vibrator even.”
Harry breathed out a laugh and shook his head, “You gonna let me do that again sometime?”
“Thought you said you and I had work to do and that I can’t go out tonight?”
He furrowed his brow, “Yeah?”
“So, I kind of thought… we’d do that again. Like later. Since it sounded like you were gonna keep me busy all night. Or did you not mean that?”
Harry laughed and you got to see his gorgeous dimples before he pushed his nose against yours, “You want it again tonight? I wasn’t sure you’d be up for it. But we can certainly make a night of it. I do have to leave at like nine so no one wonders where I am.”
You turned your head to look at the clock and then back to Harry, your smile giddy and wide, “Good. I’ve got you for five more hours then.”
“Mmhmm…” he hummed against your mouth and kissed you before looking back down at you again. “But I meant beyond tonight too. I think we could have some fun together.”
You bit your lip. You couldn’t believe the kind of day you’d had. It started with dread when you woke up thinking about how you were going to break up with Randy. And now here you were with Mr. Styles’ cock stuffed inside your pussy, his come starting to leak out onto your comforter slowly as he asked to extend this little affair. How could you say no?
“Yeah. That sounds really good. I think we could have a lot of fun together too.”
Read next: Desperate
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freedomfireflies · 4 days
Text
Teenage Dirtbag*
Summary: The one where Harry's popular, cool, and everything you aren't. And maybe you want to keep him your dirty, little secret.
Word Count: 5.5k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, gag, exhibitionism if you squint, fratrry, not suitable for Ramadan!
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“Okay, next question. What is the Albedo Effect?”
“27.”
“Harry, come on.”
“What?”
“I need an answer.”
“That is an answer. Maybe not to this question, but it’s an answer to some question.”
Your expression falls flat as you toss a piece of popcorn at him. “H, seriously.”
“What?”
“We’re supposed to be studying.”
“We are.”
“No, actually studying.” You toss another piece at him, which he catches in his mouth. “Harry—"
“The Albedo Effect is the reflectivity of the Earth’s surface,” he finally says before grinning smugly. “There. Happy?” 
“Mm.”
“Since I got it right, do I win a kiss?”
“No. You win another question,” you say before switching to the next notecard. “Okay, what is the average temperature of the Earth’s surface?”
“27.”
“Harry.”
He laughs before he’s reaching across the bed to grab the stack of notebooks, cards, and books all over your lap. Effortlessly discarding of them while leaning toward you to ghost his lips over yours. “59 degrees Fahrenheit.”
Your lashes flutter. You want to argue. Want to fight him and demand your things back. But it’s hard when he’s this close. “Um…right.”
He smiles, mouth dangerously tempting as it dances along the curve of your jaw. “Give me another.”
“I…” You swallow. “I can’t. You stole my cards.”
“Oh, did I? Oops.”
“You’re mean.”
“Yeah. But you like me.”
“Not right now.”
“Yes now. Always.”
You huff. “I’m not…I’m not kissing you until we finish studying—”
“Well, I’m not studying until you kiss me.”
“Harry—”
“What, angel?”
You fist his shirt. You mean to push him away and yet somehow, he ends up even closer. “I didn’t invite you over for this.”
“I know.” He smirks again. “This is just a bonus.”
“We agreed to study.”
“We are.”
“Jessica’s gonna be back soon—”
“So?”
“So, you know you can’t be here when she gets here,” you remind him, finally finding the strength to shove him back. “Come on, a few more questions and then we can take a break.”
“You said that a few questions ago,” he argues.
You grab the cards. “Oops.”
Fifteen minutes go by before you finally reach the end of your notes, earning a loud sigh from your study buddy as he flops onto his back in defeat. 
“That was awful,” he declares. His head rolls until his eyes find yours. A soft green beneath those long lashes. “You take way too many notes.”
“I like to be prepared,” you pout as you stand and put them back on your desk. “You don’t take nearly enough.”
“Because I have you.”
“Yeah, well…that’s cheating.”
“It’s not cheating if I’m helping you use them.”
You turn around and place your hands on your hips. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“Yeah.” He sits up and reaches for you. Easily tugging you between his legs as you try—futilely—not to fall for that gorgeous grin. “And yet you keep me around.”
“Mm…for now.”
“For now, huh?” His large hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt and you do nothing to stop him. “You just use me for my cock, is that it? Cause I’m a good fuck?”
Your skin grows warm as you look away. “Stop it, don’t say it like that.”
“What? M’I embarrassing you, pretty girl?” he whispers. He squeezes your sides, palms soft against your stomach. “Which part did it? Cock or fuck?”
You close your eyes and groan. “Harry—”
“What? They’re just words, baby.”
“Yeah, but they’re dirty words.”
He’s grinning again. Arrogant and far too smug. “I’ve seen this pretty mouth do far dirtier things—”
You bury your face in your hands to hide. “Please don’t remind me—”
“Why not? Hm? You don’t wanna remember the way you took me down your throat like a good girl?” He lifts your shirt and presses a gentle kiss just below your belly button. “Or what about the way you scratched your nails down my back as you came? Crying my name until your voice went raw?”
“Harry…”
“What about when I fingered you under the table?” he murmurs, then moves his kisses up your torso. One after the other. Slow. “And you had to bite your cute, little lip to keep from moaning?”
You start to squirm. “H…H, please—”
“What about the time I bent you over that desk—” He nods his chin toward the table in the corner of your dorm room. “—and made you cum so hard, you squirted.”
You make another noise and melt into his touch. They’re good memories, you know that. But they do unspeakable things to your anxiety. Just the thought of what someone might say…the idea of what the two of you have done. You weren’t raised to think or feel so freely and Harry is a master at making you nervous.
You’ve done more with him than you ever have anyone else. More than you imagined you’d ever do. And even if you wouldn’t trade it for the world, you can’t say you really welcome the reminder.
His kisses reach your chest. Naked and bare and begging to be touched. “You can be dirty, too, pretty girl.” 
Your hand finds his hair. Fingers sweeping through his soft curls that are normally restrained by some sort of beanie or bandana. “H…”
He hums. He knows he’s embarrassing you. But you suppose that’s why he does it. 
The small room falls silent, save for the gentle sounds of his kisses as they move toward your breast. His tongue is dangerously close and you know if he gets his way, you’ll never get anything else done.
However, just before those pretty pink lips can make contact, you hear the sound of your roommate’s voice down the hall. Loud enough to startle you and pull you out from between his legs.
Quickly, you’re tugging your shirt back down and grabbing his hand to lead him to the window. Nearly shoving him out onto the fire escape before he’s even had a chance to catch his breath.
“Go,” you whisper as you toss his flannel at him. “Hurry.”
“You know, as much as I like being your dirty little secret, you know she’s gonna find out eventually,” he says while dipping beneath the window frame until he’s completely out of the room.
“I know. But today is not that day.”
Once you’re sure she won’t see him, you get ready to close the curtains. But you’re stopped by his large hand slipping around the back of your neck as he yanks your mouths together. Finally getting the kiss he so desperately wanted.
“You’re still coming to the party this Friday, yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.
You kiss him back just once before you’re shoving at him again. “We’ll see,” you call.
He winks.
With that, the window slams shut, and he disappears into the darkness. Right as Jessica slips inside the room and begins to tell you about her incredibly long day.
And every trace of Harry has gone.
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“Ten minutes. Just ten minutes. And if we hate it, we can leave.”
“All right, fine,” you agree, begrudgingly following your friend into the large, familiar house that sits a few miles outside of campus. “Ten. But if I get a single drink spilled on me…I’m out.”
“Deal.”
You laugh as Jess throws her arm around your shoulders to lead you inside, shoving past the group of college students already gathering in the living room.
Every inch of the house is packed full of people. The music is loud, the smell of weed is strong, and a lively game of cup pong is being had down the hall. Truth be told, this scene always tends to catch you off guard. No, this isn’t your first party. But you were raised in a world and in a home where drugs and alcohol were never present. 
You don’t mind being around them or watching people participate, but the concept is still rather foreign to you. Even if Harry’s presence in your life is beginning to change that.
Speaking of, you can’t help but search for him as Jessica drags you from room to room. You imagine he’s around somewhere. After all, this is his frat house, and you’ve never known him to miss a party.
But with the football game happening tomorrow night, you wonder if he’ll be out practicing or if he’ll be here with his teammates, pre-gaming.
You catch a glimpse of his red, backwards baseball cap as you’re leaving the kitchen. He’s across the house, clad in a black, graphic t-shirt and skinny jeans, leaning against the wall as he talks to one of his friends.
He’s nodding along to something they’re saying, taking slow sips of whatever’s in his solo cup while lazily looking around.
And that’s when he finds you.
Even with all these people, you feel like the only two in the room. And you catch the way he smiles. A soft, secret smirk meant just for you. And a gleam in his eye as he takes another sip and returns to his conversation.
He’s glad you’re here and honestly, you think you are, too.
“Oh, Zack, there you are!” Jessica suddenly exclaims before she’s yanking you toward one of the guys on Harry’s team. “Zack, this is the friend I was telling you about.”
A bit confused, you and Zack exchange a nod as your roommate begins the excited introductions.
“This is the guy I wanted to set you up with,” she whispers under her breath before straightening up. “So, uh, Zack! You’re single, right?”
Even more surprised, Zack blinks as his attention drifts to you. He hesitates, and for just a moment, you wonder if he recognizes you.
This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this house. And it’s not the first time you’ve met Zack. However, you and Harry have been rather diligent about keeping your visits a secret, even from the other boys that live here.
Still, Zack almost caught you once when you were forced to hide in the shower as he brushed his teeth. And even though he didn’t seem to notice, Harry mentioned that he did see the earrings you accidentally left behind. The same earrings he proceeded to tease Harry about for the next week.
And the same earrings you’re wearing now.
But, if he’s begun to put two and two together, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he shakes his head. “Nah, not really. I’m kind of seeing Annie. I guess.”
You smirk. “You guess?”
“I mean, we’re fucking,” he argues. “But, like…I wouldn’t say we’re together. But she would. I don’t know. But she’d be fucking pissed if I went out with someone else.”
To your surprise, Zack seems to be covering for you. Because you happen to know Annie is actually seeing Derek. She and Zack never got past the drunk-fuck phase, but it seems Jessica doesn’t realize the lie being told. That, or she’s lost interest.
“Oh, boo,” she pouts before turning to you. “Well, I tried. Sorry, babe.”
You laugh. “More than all right. I’m…I’m gonna go use the bathroom and maybe look for some water. I’ll meet you here in a bit?”
“Yes! Text me! Or call me. Or…just yell my name really loud,” she says, already slipping into the next room. “Whenever you wanna go, we will, okay? Seriously.”
“Got it,” you call. And with that, the two of you split. Leaving you to look for the only man you really care to see.
He’s no longer talking to his friend and doesn’t seem to be in the lower part of the house. So, you make your way to the next floor. Shoving past couples making out on the staircase and groups doing blow in the bathroom.
He might be in his room, although that’s perhaps a little too obvious. You still aren’t ready for people to know that the two of you are…well, whatever you two are. And you can’t imagine he is, either. Not considering his reputation and the other girls he’s been with before. 
Compared to them, you’re just…you.
Swallowing your own disappointment, you continue down the hall in search of him when a large hand suddenly wraps around your upper arm and yanks you into a bedroom.
You aren’t surprised that it’s him. You aren’t even surprised that he’s brought you back to his room. You are, however, rather confused by the giddy grin on his face.
“You came,” he whispers before he’s shoving you against the closed door and kissing you hard. “Been waiting all fucking night to see you.”
You’re breathless. You always are when you’re with him, but this…now. His kiss, his touch, his voice. The sultry way he speaks that goes straight to the place between your thighs.
“Missed you,” he says. He sucks on the spot below your ear. “God, I really fucking missed you, angel. You have no idea.”
“You saw me this morning,” you remind him. “And for lunch in your car.”
“S’too long,” he argues. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby.”
You grin. Even if you know he’s merely being cute, you can’t help but believe him. “Yeah, okay.”
“I mean it. Besides, you think I wanna watch Zack fucking hit on you all goddamn night?”
You lean back. “You saw?”
“Course I fucking saw. Could hear that shit-eating grin from outside,” he huffs before he’s kissing you again, as if to prove a point. Either to you or to himself. “But he wouldn’t if you’d just let me take you on a proper date.”
“H…”
“Yeah, I know.” His kisses get softer. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“No, I…I get it,” you sigh against his cheek. “I just…it’s hard—”
He takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. “I know, angel. M’not pushing, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want me to.” 
You squeeze his wrists and smile. You sometimes find yourself surprised by how willing he is to be seen with you. You aren’t sure why, but you always assumed he’d be ashamed. That he’d be the one to want to hide. To lock you away and keep your rendezvous a secret. 
And maybe you like it this way because you’re afraid. Because you’re worried that once he sees how odd the two of you look together, he won’t want you anymore. That the relentless teasing and comparisons will drive him to end things.
And you’ll be devastated.
Perhaps sensing where your mind has gone, Harry resumes his work on your throat, efficiently distracting you. You happily relinquish your overthinking to him and his intentions, and it feels good. You used to be scared of being touched, of being loved. But it’s becoming easier with him. A routine you wouldn’t trade for the world.
He begins to pull you toward his bed. It’s made for once, which you have to admit impresses you. Harry doesn’t tend to devote his time to things he doesn’t think matter. Like cleaning his space, taking notes, or worrying about his classes. Somehow, he manages to pass every semester, keeping his spot on the football team, while you struggle to keep up even with all the time in the world.
Half the time you suggest studying together, it’s because you’d actually like his help.
“Wait…wait, Har,” you murmur as he sits onto the mattress and begins to pull you in a straddle over his thighs. “Wait, not…not when you’ve been drinking—”
“Haven’t,” he exhales against your mouth. “S’just Sprite. Coach doesn’t let us drink before a game.”
Almost relieved, you lift a brow. “But he doesn’t mind a wild party?”
He smirks. “Technically, we’re not supposed to do that either. But…I kind of live here, so…”
“Ah.” You dip down and press your lips to his softly. “Then I guess you just don’t have a choice, huh?”
“Nope.” He moves his hands to your waist, subtly grinding your body over his until you both groan. “Besides. I’d much rather be here with you than down there with them.”
“Mm. That’s the right answer,” you tease as he laughs and slips his fingers under your dress. 
You know this dance by now. You even enjoy it when Harry’s at the lead. He knows what he’s doing, even if you don’t. And he knows just how to teach you. Show you. Guide you. 
You take a deep breath and let yourself submit. Let his hands roam, his thighs flex. Let his mouth travel down your neck and to the curve of your shoulder. He slips the strap down until he has more room and then he moves for your chest. Hungry kisses meant to devour you.
“My pretty girl,” he whispers, tongue licking a stripe along the top of your breast. “Wore this just to torture me, didn’t you?”
Your lashes flutter. “Thought…thought it would be easier.”
“Easier?” He glances up, smirk devious. “You wanted me to have easy access to your pretty pussy?”
The vulgar language brings a fervent heat right to your face. You glance away out of habit, but he doesn’t let you this time. Instead, he pinches your chin tight between his fingers and forces your attention back.
“Is that right, angel?” he asks again, firm.
You swallow. “…yes.”
“Mm. Good girl,” he mumbles before moving his hand to your tit. Squeezing it gently while wrapping his lips over your nipple. “Or maybe you’re my naughty girl tonight. Yeah? Wearing something so sinful. Just for me.”
You nod quickly as your nails scratch down his scalp. “Just for you.”
“Mhm. Not Zack.”
“No. No, not Zack.”
He simpers at the sound of your breathless whines. Enjoying the way your hips roll against his. The way your naked thighs feel against his clothed ones. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Let me have a little taste?”
Your stomach flips. Harry has introduced you to a world of pleasure you never knew possible, but you still can’t deny that it makes you feel vulnerable. The way your body is put on display for him. Accessible to his tongue, his hands, his…
You close your eyes and force a nod. You just won’t think about it. You’ll let him have his taste and then he’ll start. You understand the science behind it. Your body needs to be properly lubricated before he can begin. And it’s not exactly a step you care to skip, even if it does make you nervous.
He grins at your reaction before he’s leaning back onto the bed and dragging you up toward his face, that bright red hat falling off in the process.
He’s mentioned this position before. Apparently, it’s his favorite, but it certainly isn’t one you’re used to. You don’t understand the mechanics. How you’re meant to surrender control but also keep from crushing his pretty face beneath your weight.
“Angel,” he calls, pulling you back. “What did I say last time, hm?”
“I…I know, I just…” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You won’t,” he promises yet again. “You can’t. I know what I’m doing, yeah? Trust me. Just let me do this, I’ve got you.”
And you know that he does. So, surrendering your inhibitions, you let him place you just where he wants before he nods at you to pull your underwear to the side.
You do. Fingers shaking as you drag the damp fabric away and present yourself to his tongue. You want to look away. Want to hide from the growing look of hunger in his eyes, but he’s already sucking on you before you can.
And once he starts…things don’t seem so bad.
His tongue is magic. His lips are divine. Even his hands are wonderful with the way they hold you still. 
You think you could spend a lifetime against his mouth. Live here, die here. Do anything and be anything he wanted so long as he never stopped.
“Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” he says after a moment, and you almost miss it over the faint thumping of music outside his room. “You okay?”
You nod, fingers back between his curls as you brace yourself. “Yes…yes, I’m…I’m all right. Am I…am I too—”
“No,” he says simply. “No, you’re perfect. Don’t move. M’having so much fun.”
And you don’t doubt that he is. His eyes are closed and he’s feasting on you like he’s been starved his whole life. His entire face is between your folds, licking, sucking, nipping. Wet sounds that are somehow louder than the noise outside. 
You can’t help the way you groan. The way you say his name and shake in his hands. It’s too much and you’re still unsure how to handle so much ecstasy.
But he knows. And he keeps you planted on his tongue until you’ve nearly soaked his entire face. And then…he stops. Seconds before you can find that sweet release and you gasp as he pops off and scoots you back.
“What…what did I do?” you pant.
He laughs while he sits up, cupping your cheek in his palm before pulling you forward for a kiss. “Nothing,” he whispers, and the taste of you on his lips makes your insides twist. “I told you, you’re perfect. I just have something else in mind.”
“Oh.” Your fingers twist together. “Do you…do you want me to…?”
He smiles again then shakes his head. “Not this time, pretty girl. You know I don’t always expect that, right? I don’t eat you out just so you’ll suck me off.”
“I…I know.”
“Good. I eat you out because I fucking love it.” Another kiss. “And not just to get you wet.”
You feel your features scrunch, the urge to hide much stronger. “I know.”
“And I don’t want you to forget. I love watching you take me down your throat, but only when and if you want to. Tonight, I thought we could maybe try something we haven’t yet.”
“Oh…”
His eyes settle on yours. “I want you to ride me.”
Your lips part. “You…oh.”
“We’ve talked about that before, yeah?” He sweeps his thumb across your cheek. “About if you think you’d be comfortable?”
“Yeah, we…yeah. I…I don’t mind. I just…I don’t know…”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ll show you, hm? We can just try it and see how you feel. And if you don’t like it, we can do something else.”
It’s a good plan. A solid plan, and even if you’re unsure, you can’t help but feel excited. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats happily before scooting back toward the headboard. “All right, can you take me out, angel?”
Eagerly, you agree, crawling after him until your fingers find his jeans. Seeing such a massive dick always tends to surprise you, but you find that you feel more confident now than you did before. He’s beautiful, every inch of him. And he seems to love the way you touch him. The way you look at him, admire him.
And that’s your favorite part.
“Good girl,” he coos as you reach inside his boxers to wrap your palm around him. “Not so shy anymore, hm?”
You shake your head, lip between your teeth as you release him from his pants. 
He laughs. “I can see that. Can you give me your hand, pretty girl?”
You oblige and he pulls your palm to his mouth before he’s spitting directly in the center. A large wad that sits snugly in your hand before he drops it back down to his cock and nods at you to continue.
You drag the wet substance up and down his rather impressive length until he’s glistening. He’s already quite hard, but your delicate strokes seem to get him the rest of the way. Until he’s standing straight up and nearly leaking. 
“Good,” he says again, a tad breathless. “So fucking good at that, you know?”
You smile. “Practice makes perfect.”
“Mhm.” He chuckles. “Then can you show me how good you are at putting me in?”
You nod fervently. The academic overachiever in you is always anxious to prove yourself to him. To show that you’ve learned, you’ve improved. That you’re worthy of his time and his body. 
You use one hand to guide him and the other to keep your panties to the side. He, in turn, makes sure to lift your dress high enough that you can both see and the moment his tip makes contact with your throbbing clit, you whimper.
“Shh,” he murmurs. “You’re all right. Go ahead and tap it a couple times, yeah?”
Forcing your pulse to steady, you do. The heavy appendage seems to taunt you as you pat it against your pussy and the sensitive nerves that make your legs shake. But it feels like heaven and even Harry has to take in a labored breath as he watches.
The two of you rarely use condoms these days. You did when you first started, but after getting tested and being assured that you were the only person he was sleeping with, you decided to try just once without.
And you know the risks. Know it’s rather idiotic to tempt fate the way you do. The pill isn’t a guarantee, and you know neither one of you are ready to be parents.
But after feeling him…feeling all of him…you became addicted. Despite your better judgement, you found yourself eager to feel him again. And again. And again. 
And now, well…now you don’t think you can go without.
“There you go,” he sighs. “Just like that. S’it feel good?”
“Mm…mhm.”
“Good. Go on, baby, put me in now.”
With his help, you lift up and guide his large head toward your hole. Slowly pushing it in while dropping yourself down.
“Fuck,” he exhales through a groan. “Shit, just like that. You okay? S’it hurt?”
You shake your head. You don’t have the strength to speak.
“Okay. Keep going.”
You do. A steady pace that seems to torture you both until the whines and cries slip out before you can stop them. 
“Goddamn, angel,” he grits. “Shit, you feel so fucking good. You still all right? Know what to say if you’re not?”
“Ye—yeah.”
“Attagirl. Okay, baby, I want you to lift up now, yeah? Nice and slow.”
Doing your best not to tremble, you raise back up and feel the way his thick cock seems to stretch you open. The way it travels through your body, making you feel empty without it. 
And once you’re near the tip, he pulls you back down, and you start again. 
The speed is tediously languid. It almost hurts and the noises tumble from your lips one after the other without pause.
Your thighs burn. Your core burns. Every inch of you seems to be screaming, yet Harry doesn’t break a sweat.
“Doing so good,” he praises again. He pulls at your jaw until you kiss him. “Know it’s hard, but you look so good riding my cock right now.”
You only mewl. Loud and incoherent. 
He releases your cheek to reach for something on the nightstand beside him. Something you don’t see through your hazed vision until he begins to unwrap it and bring it to your mouth.
His bandana.
It’s his favorite one, too. The white one, with little back details on it. But you aren’t exactly sure what he expects you to do with it now…until he smirks.
“M’gonna put this in your mouth,” he says before resting it on your lips. “Gotta keep you quiet since I didn’t lock the door. Don’t want anyone to hear you and come lookin’, hm?”
Your eyes widen as you gape at him. “Harry—”
“Sorry. S’just too distracted.” He grins. “Open up, pretty girl.”
Rather excitedly, you obey. Giving him just enough room to slip the fabric between your teeth until you can clamp down and he can fasten it in a knot against the back of your head.
“There you go,” he declares when he’s through. “Now you can be as loud as you want, yeah?”
You nod.
“Mm.” He dips down to start kissing at your chest. “Can you keep going, baby? Or do you need me to take over?”
Your lashes flutter.
“I know,” he coos when he sees the fucked-out expression on your face. “S’hard, isn’t it? My angel’s getting tired, huh?”
Another nod, slower.
“Okay,” he chuckles. He grabs onto your hips and straightens up. “Okay, I’ll fuck you.”
Just like that, he resumes the pace you set. Using every muscle in his thighs and abdomen to fuck his cock up into you and leave you a wilting, blubbering mess.
The poor bandana becomes soaked as he pounds into you. Faster and faster while your body shakes and drool pools at the sides of your mouth. 
Your whimpers sound shuddered now. In tune with his fast thrusts and the wet, lewd cacophony of your bodies connecting. Pornographic in nature yet somehow…euphoric. 
He sucks your tit back into his mouth and you clutch onto his scalp. Nails scratching at his neck, shoulders, and chest until you feel your orgasm coming up on you once more. 
And he feels it, too. Features twisting at the way you clench around him. The way your body draws him in, treats him right. He’s obsessed and he’s told you as much. Even with the level of stamina he possesses, he can never seem to last all that long when it comes to you.
“Fucking hell,” he groans before he’s tightening his hold on your waist. “Shit, s’it feel good? Like being on top, angel?”
You nod and press your forehead to his. Even if it’s rather exhausting, you can feel him in places you couldn’t before. Nudging against your g-spot until you see stars and have to physically fight the urge to cum. 
“No, don’t,” he pants, seeming to sense it. “Want you to cum. Right now, baby. Okay? Let me feel you first.”
Even if you wanted to argue, you can’t. The low, graveled instruction goes straight to your cunt and you cum before you can stop yourself. Drenching his cock, his thighs, your thighs. You sway, go limp in his hold. Until you’re slumping against his chest as he fucks you through every second of it.
“There,” he praises, large hand rubbing up and down your back. “God, you’re fucking good at that. Love the way you cum for me. S’fucking heaven.”
You know he’s close. And you know he won’t finish inside you, instead wasting his offering on his stomach or somewhere else.
So, you get an idea. You pull off him as best you can while he hisses and resists the temptation to release inside you before you slip the bandana back out and crawl down his lap.
Then, you take him in your mouth. It only takes two sucks before he’s grabbing at your neck and finishing down your throat. The warm, sticky substance familiar and far too thrilling. 
He cums and he cums until you’ve nearly sucked him dry and his tired body melts into the bed.
He whispers your name and fights to keep his eyes open so he can gaze at you. Then, he tugs on you. “Come here.”
He kisses you. Tongue and teeth clashing in a messy exchange, but he doesn’t mind. He loves it. Moans into your mouth and pulls you against his heart until you can both catch your breath.
You revel in the post-orgasm glow. Body’s abuzz and slightly sweaty from the workout. But you wouldn’t trade this ache in your joints for anything. 
And you realize you wouldn’t trade him, either. 
“You okay?” he murmurs after a moment.
You hum. “Yeah. M’tired.”
“Yeah,” he echoes with a gentle laugh. “It was fun, though, right?”
“Mhm. Very.”
“Think you’ll wanna do it again?”
“Maybe,” you admit. “As long as you do all the work again.”
His laugh is louder this time. “Deal. Or maybe we’ll just have to work out your muscles until you can do it all on your own.”
“Mm…unlikely.”
“But maybe.”
“Maybe not.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Might hurt.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He smiles. “Can you stay tonight?”
“I don’t know. Jess might be looking for me.”
“Tell her you’re staying.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t have to tell her who you’re with.”
“H,” you sigh. “She thinks I’m a virgin prude. If she knows I’m staying, she won’t let it go until she finds out who I stayed with.”
The room falls silent. You feel him sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
You glance up. “I’ll tell her one of these days, I promise. I just…I wanna keep you to myself. Just a little longer.”
His grin splits his face. “Good. Think I might wanna keep you, too.”
He kisses you again. Soft, slow, sensual. Filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say out loud. And long enough to leave you breathless.
Until the door opens.
And Zack walks in.
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God I love fratrry 😭💞
Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry
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placeboelysium · 5 days
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The yaoi of all time
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kiwikiwiandkiwi · 10 months
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DANCING ON TOUR — Love on Tour Europe 2023 (Inspired by this tiktok)
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watchmegetobsessed · 9 months
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NO MORE GAMES
A/N: so this concept might be familiar for some of you bc i posted about it earlier before i started working on it but now its officially here! and this is my thank you gift for all of you for reaching 15k followers!!! it's insane, thank you so much and hope to bring you even more stories soon!!!
WORD COUNT: 7.9k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: Your friend forces you to give Tinder a try. Surprisingly you fetch a date with the handsome and a little bit older Harry. But he stands you up and you lose hope in dating. However it's a real plot twist when you run into him at your dad's barbeque and he is introduced to you as the future CEO of your father's company.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
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“This has got to be the lowest point of desperation.”
“Don’t be so dramatic!”
“I’m not, this is truly the end.”
Dani rolls her eyes and just keeps tapping away on your phone’s screen, setting up your Tinder profile.
You. On Tinder. The app you swore you’d never use. How did this happen?
Well, it happened because your boyfriend of two years decided to dump you in a McDonald’s parking lot, only to post about his engagement to another woman on Facebook three weeks later. 
Disgusting pig, you’re convinced you were blind and deaf in those two years, that’s how you could put up with him for so long.
You’ve been wallowing in your self-pity for the past three months and Dani, your best friend had enough and said that you need to get on a dating app, hook up with some fine ass men and forget about Cruz.
“Alright, it’s all set, want to have a look?” Dani smirks, obviously pleased with herself as she hands you over the phone.
It’s a decent profile, she chose some good pictures of you, your profile was never your concern, it’s others on the app that makes you crawl out of your skin.
“Perfect,” you flash her a forced smile, she grabs the phone and then starts swiping vigorously. “Hey! Don’t swipe right on everyone!”
“Not everyone! Just the hot guys!”
“You’re not even reading their bio!”
“Because I don’t care, we’re looking for a hookup, not your husband here, duh!”
You sit, feeling helpless as you watch your best friend decide who is worthy of you in the virtual meat market. This is really not your scene and you’re more than skeptical anything good will turn out from it.
Dani keeps swiping for a while before you finally talk her out of it and you settle watching a movie instead, forgetting about the profile that is now available for every single man in your area. 
To be honest, it completely slips your mind until you’re getting ready for bed and unlock your phone to set an alarm and see all the notifications from Tinder.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, falling into bed as you unwillingly, but tap on one of the notifications and the app opens.
It’s been only a few hours, but you got twenty-seven matches and five out of those even messaged you. You instantly skip the first three because one straight up asks for nudes, one just sends you a bunch of emojis and the third one sent the worst pick up line you’ve ever heard. 
The fourth one is okay, but it’s kind of… well, it’s a simple “Hi, how are you?” and you’re not sure how to reply to that, so then only one’s left.
Harry.
The age next to his name reads 36, that’s not that big of an age gap, only eight years, you’ve seen worse. Besides, he looks younger, almost your age according to the pictures. He has a couple, but not too many. He’s smiling on his profile picture, the t-shirt displays his many tattoos on one of his arms, his hair is slightly curly and mostly a mess, but it’s the good kind.
He is definitely your type. 
He opened with referring to something that’s written in your bio which feels nice, knowing that he actually read it instead of just swiping right based on your pictures. Your thumbs hover over the screen for a bit before you finally give in and type him an answer.
He replies right away. And so the conversation starts.
One message follows the other, you’re jumping from one topic to the next and at one point it feels like you’re talking to an old friend and not a guy you’ve never actually met. The next thing you realize that it’s three am and you’re still talking. 
Y/N: We’ve been talking for hours and you still haven’t asked for my number, should I take it as a bad sign?
HARRY: Didn’t want to seem too pushy, but I wanted to ask for it the moment I saw your profile. 
You smile like a little girl as you type your answer.
Y/N: That would have been too soon, you’re right. But now would be a good time.
HARRY: Hey, crazy idea! Can I maybe have your number?
You laugh. You genuinely laugh at the screen and that probably never happened before.
You give him your number. 
You didn’t think it would go this far, this whole Tinder ordeal Dani forced you into. You were kind of set that it won’t work so why should you even try? 
Now it’s a surprising outcome that you’re on your way to meet Harry at a bar, only three days after texting nonstop. And you’re kinda nervous about it.
You haven’t been on a first date in a long time and it’s giving you the jitters as you get ready. Your experience getting to know Harry in the past few days has been incredibly positive, you wonder if it will be the same when you physically meet.
You arrive at the bar a little early and take a seat at the table he reserved on his name. To ease your nerves you order a vodka soda that you drink quickly, the alcohol mixing in your veins pretty fast, but you’re still nervous to meet him in real life. 
As you wait, a guy comes up to you who seems to be more interested in your cleavage than you while he tries to chat you up, but you quickly reject him, your gaze keeps returning to the entrance, expecting Harry to walk in at any moment.
Minutes pass by and then seven o’clock rolls around, the time when you were supposed to meet, but you see no sign of him, which makes your stomach twist and turn. You double check the time, the date and the place to make sure you’re where you need to be.
“You seem awfully lonely,” a voice speaks up behind you and for a split second you think that it’s Harry, you just missed when he walked in, but when you turn around you see a totally different man, holding two drinks in his hands, clearly offering one to you. You make no effort to accept it.
“I’m not,” is all you say, turning your eyes back ahead. He doesn’t get the hint.
“If you’re waiting for someone I’m happy to be your company until they arrive.” He rounds the table and stands in front of you, blocking your view of the entrance entirely. Exhaling irritatedly, you finally look up at him, your face making an obvious statement that you’re not open to the chit-chat.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“You definitely seem like you could use some cheering up, let me be the–”
“Oh my God, are you really this dumb? It’s a no, I don’t want to talk to you, now leave the table!”
“Jesus, what a bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he walks away. Normally, you’d definitely call him out, but right now, you’re just staring at the entrance, almost like a maniac as the minutes pass by and there’s still no sign of Harry.
You check your phone, praying there’s gonna be a text at least, saying that he is just late, that he will be here soon, but nothing. It’s dead silent. 
“Fuck,” you breathe out, your feet jumping underneath the table. It’s already twelve past seven. This is not just being fashionably late now.
You wait some more, hoping for a miracle, but it never comes. So does Harry.
When it’s been over thirty minutes you chug down the rest of your cocktail you ordered to make you seem less like a loser and call it a night. On your way out of the bar you pull up your messages with Harry and send him one last text.
Y/N: Thanks for nothing.
And then you block his number, throwing the experience to the very back of your head while you delete Tinder off your phone.
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The annual barbeque is here. Once a year your dad’s home turns into one big fair, he invites most of his employees, investors and partners, throwing a feast in his backyard. It means about five hundred people invade your previous home, where you still spend a lot of your time even though you have your own apartment now. 
You always come as well, because one, your dad loves to show you off and introduce to everyone and two, you usually use this occasion to network a bit. You’ve just opened your own gallery and what’s a better place to promote your art than a backyard full of wealthy investors? Selling your art can seem like an impossible task sometimes, or to be more precise, most of the time. Until your work is not known you make no profit, you need that first purchase that will bring in the rest and get the business rolling. Unfortunately you have not had that one first customer.
Yet.
It’s a sunny Saturday, as if your dad ordered the weather especially for the occasion. There has never been a barbeque with rain or cold before, your dad seems to have control over this as well. There’s endless food and drinks, several activities for children, since it’s a family friendly event and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, mixing and mingling.
You’re nursing a mojito you mixed yourself, so it’s generous in the alcohol department. Wearing a white sundress you’re trying to have a word with everyone you know and everyone you want to know. 
“Sweetheart!” You hear your father calling out and you spot him a few feet away, waving at you. “Come over here, I want to introduce someone to you!”
Excusing yourself from the conversation you slalom between the guests and reach your father under the oak tree that’s near the tiny pond in the middle of the backyard. Yes, your father has a pond in his backyard, as well as two pools, a jacuzzi and a whole ass greenhouse. He is just that extra.
“Hi daddy,” you smile, joining him as he places a hand to your back and gestures towards a man who is currently turned away.
“Y/N, let me introduce you to the man who will take my place in the future, my successor, if you’d like. This is Harry Styles. Harry, this is my only daughter, Y/N.”
Your body makes the realization faster than your mind. The man turns towards you, but by that moment you’ve already recognized the tattoos you’ve looked at in pictures more than you’d like to admit. Then you see his face and your stomach drops before your brain processes who you’re facing.
Harry stood you up on your first date two weeks ago and you thought you’d never see him, but fate decided to make a joke out of it, because now he is here, in the flesh, looking at you with a just as shocked expression as yours.
You both are quick to gain control back over your faces and Harry is the first one to break the silence.
“Hi, it’s, um… It’s nice to meet you,” he clears his throat as he holds a hand out for you. For a short moment you think of just turning around and walking away, but you don’t want to cause a scene and have your father question your behavior, so instead, you shake his hand, the touch of his skin sending tingles down your spine as you let go of it in a bit of a hurry.
“Yeah, it’s really nice to meet you,” you nod, but can’t hold back the spite in your voice. Luckily, your dad seems to be oblivious to the scene happening in front of him. 
“Remember that awfully long procedure we had to find the perfect person to take over after me? Harry was the only one to survive it and I knew we found our guy.”
Your dad pats him on the shoulder proudly and Harry smiles back at him, but you notice how tense he appears to be, most likely because of your presence. 
“Ah, he seems like a decent, reliable guy,” you add with a forced smile and you know he understands the meaning behind your words.
“He is!” you dad beams. “And Harry, this is my wonderful daughter, she graduated from CalArts, top of her class, she is an exceptional artist, you should see her work!”
He has seen your work. Well, virtually. Naturally, you talked about what you do and he asked you to send pictures and you did.
He loved them. Or at least that’s what he said. Now you question everything he wrote in his messages. 
“I’m sure she is… fantastic.”
The torture continues for a few more minutes before others join the three of you and you have a chance to slip away, which you grab without hesitation. 
It feels like all your blood is pumping in your head, you can’t tell if you’re shocked, angry or disappointed, most likely all of these together. Part of you wants to chug something strong to forget about it all, but then another part wants to read everything on him and tell him to fuck himself.
A tequila shot and some internal raging later you’re inside the house, it’s quiet, everyone is enjoying the weather outside, so you have a chance to settle your thoughts. With another mean cocktail in your hands you’re pacing back and forth in the spacious living room, your racing thoughts making it impossible to calm yourself. 
“Can I at least try to explain myself?”
The voice coming from the sliding door that leads out to the backyard makes you jump and when you turn around you spot Harry standing there, looking awfully good, but you’re way too angry at him to acknowledge it. 
“I don’t think I want to hear it.”
Out of frustration you can’t do anything else than drinking and avoiding to look at him, hoping he might disappear if you ignored him. Unfortunately, it’s not the case, he moves closer.
“Y/N, I’m really sorry about standing you up. It was unacceptable, I know. I had a… um, I had a family situation and I didn’t have a chance to let you know I wouldn’t make it.”
“What situation?” you ask right away, and when he hesitates you know it’s all made up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I don’t need your apology, you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me you wouldn’t come then, now you’re only apologizing because you were forced to meet me.”
“Y/N, it’s not… it’s not what you think.”
“Oh, I think it’s very much what I think it is,” you let out a bitter laugh. “It’s fine, but I thought you were mature enough to tell me you’re not interested in me anymore. I’m a big girl, I can take the rejection.”
“But I was interested, I still–” He cuts himself off, not sure if it’s fine to say that he is still into you in the situation you found yourself in. “Y/N, I didn’t want to hurt you. This… It’s not how I planned it. I’m sorry.”
You want to stay mad. You want to stand your ground and unleash all your rage at him, but… you can’t. He might have been bullshitting you about why he stood you up, but he truly seems like he feels bad. 
And he really looks way too good.
“Alright. Apology accepted.”
He looks visibly relieved, his shoulders ease and even a tiny smile appears on his lips.
“Thank you. Really. So… Do you want to have a drink now?” he chuckles, but the devilish smirk you flash at him scares him instantly.
“Oh, I said apology accepted. That doesn’t mean we’re fine and back at where we were.”
Before he could say anything or question what you said you walk away, leaving him in a blur. 
You only see him from afar a few times until the end of the barbeque, you catch him staring quite a few times as well and his looks reflect hunger, so you assume your looks definitely live up to his expectations after all. You miss when he leaves at the end, but you know it won’t be the last time you see each other. 
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A plan is formed in your mind about how to teach him a lesson for standing you up. A little game, to be exact. 
Two days after the barbeque you have to meet your dad in his office and you definitely don’t want to miss the opportunity to mess with Harry. You go out of your way to change before heading to the office, wearing a tight, extra short black dress that will surely catch his attention.
With a stack of documents under your arm you stroll into the building as if you owned it. Well, for a while you were set to inherit the business, but when your father realized you’re more into art, he ditched his plans and started looking for his successor. You remember how nervous you were before sitting down with him and telling him you wouldn’t take over the company like he wanted you to. To your surprise, he took it well and you realized he just wants you to be happy, doing whatever your heart desires. 
As a side hustle, you still get involved in some part of the business, just to learn the basic ropes and gain skills you can use in other fields as well, so every once in a while you can be found in the office. Today is one of those days.
The girls behind the front desk smile at you warmly and let you pass by, heading straight up to your dad’s office on the top. Standing in the elevator you check your outfit, making sure it’s not too revealing, but will do the purpose you wore it for. It doesn’t look like you’re going clubbing, but the amount of leg you’re showing will definitely earn you Harry’s attention, just how you planned.
It’s like fate is playing on your side, when you’re approaching the office you spot Harry in there with your dad, a devilish smirk tugging on your lips as you finally reach the glass door, knocking on it gently. They both lift their head up, but the expressions they make are very different. 
While your dad seems happy to see you, gesturing for you to come in, Harry on the other hand seems… shocked to say the least. Most likely not because he is seeing you, but because of how you look. You catch his gaze wandering down your legs right away, his chest rising with a deep breath as you walk inside.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt. I brought the documents you asked for.”
“You’re not interrupting anything, come in!” your dad waves around, rounding his desk to greet you with two kisses on your cheeks.
“Hi Harry, it’s so nice to see you again,” you smile at him charmingly, angling yourself so your legs are perfectly in his view. 
“It’s uh, it’s nice to see you as well, Y/N.” 
The blush on his cheeks is proof that your plan worked pretty well. While chatting with your dad, you keep an eye on Harry and see him practically devouring you with his eyes, his jaw clenches every time you move your weight to one leg and pop your hip out to the side. It’s safe to say he is a fan of your outfit.
“Alright, I better get going,” you sigh and start to pack your stuff when you drop your pen on purpose. The plan was to lean down and tease him even more, but he jumps to your rescue instantly, picking it up for you, but it gets his face to the same level as your thighs and he straightens up faster than the speed of light.
“Here,” he hands you the pen, obviously avoiding looking at you. This is probably the most fun you’ve had in a long time.
“Thank you,” you smile at him, making sure to brush your fingers against his hand as you take the pen from him. “Have a nice day.”
And with that, you stroll out of the office. 
Y/N one, Harry zero.
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You don’t give him much time to recover from your appearance at the office. A few days later, on Friday, you decide to take advantage of your dad’s pool, which is one of the reasons you spend so much time at his. 
And of course because you love him. 
Today however, you have a different reason to parade in his backyard in the tiniest bikini you own. 
Your dad’s office has floor to ceiling windows watching over the glistening pool. Most of the time you try to avoid having a pool day when you know your dad is working from home, but Harry is here today, so that changes everything. 
You saw him arrive a few hours ago from your room’s window and they are still working, so when you’re done with your own business calls you decide it’s time to go for a swim. The neon pink bikini you chose was worn last time in Miami on spring break when you were still in college, a wild weekend you’ll never forget, but you’ve changed since then and it’s not really your style, but it will serve the purpose the best. To help your success you ‘ve also covered your body in tanning oil, making you glisten in the sun.
Putting on your sunglasses you grab a towel and tanning oil and head outside. 
It’s hot outside and you’re already planning to lie in the sun after a swim, the water glistening on your body. Putting on your best poker face you finally walk out and approach the pool. You know this place like the back of your hand, so you know exactly when you come into view from the office. Squaring your shoulders you keep your head high and walk up to one of the sunbeds, dropping your stuff down before striking a not too obvious pose as you put your hair up. Angling yourself just right, you catch a glimpse of what’s going inside and you need everything in you not to start grinning when you spot Harry not far from the window, staring at you like he is about to burst. Your dad is somewhere in the back on the phone, oblivious to the scene that’s happening so close to him. 
The second act starts when you grab the tanning oil and start applying it, rubbing it into your skin, making a show out of it. Oh, how you wish you could see Harry’s face up close, but you have a good guess what’s happening in his mind and it’s very pleasing.
First, you lie down to tan some, normally you cover your head with a towel because of the heat and not care about how you look, but this time you try your best to look as if you just jumped out of a Sports Illustrated catalog. 
Not long later it’s time to jump in the pool. You swim a few laps before emerging from the cold water and returning to your sunbed, all while imagining what could Harry be thinking right now. 
You’re still chilling in the sun when you hear the sliding door open and spot your dad walking out. For a moment you freeze, afraid he might tell you off for using the pool when he is working with someone in his office, but he seems delighted.
“Hey, I have to head out for a quick meeting, I’ll pick up lunch on my way home, want me to grab you something?”
“That would be great, thank you,” you smile at him peeking over the rim of your sunglasses.
“Harry is here, so don’t be surprised if you run into him. He’ll probably stay in the office.”
“Alright.”
With that he turns around and disappears in the garage. You hear the engine start and then he drives away, leaving you and Harry as the only people in the house. Not to make it obvious, you turn to look inside the office, but you’re surprised to see that Harry is not there anymore. Has he left the house as well? Did your plan not work after all?
It’s starting to get too hot outside and you didn’t bring anything to drink so you decide to give up and go inside. Heading into the kitchen all you can think about is a glass of cold lemonade.
Rummaging through the fridge you grab the bowl of fruit salad you made yesterday and brought over and as you’re balancing everything in your hands and pushing the fridge’s door closed with your hips, it scares you when you see Harry standing behind you by the kitchen island.
“Jesus, are you a fucking ninja? I didn’t hear you.”
Walking closer you set everything down to the island and pretend like your pulse is not over the roof. Not just because of the scare, but because he looks incredibly good. FItted pants and simple white shirt, the top few buttons are undone, showing a glimpse of his chest, the sleeves are rolled up, allowing you to check out his tattoos as well. God, if you weren’t trying to teach him a lesson you would be all over him already.
It makes you feel better though that he is definitely checking you out as well. He is not trying to mask it too much, his eyes keep wandering down your body that’s still only covered at the most crucial parts by your tiny swimwear.
“Having a day off?” he leisurely asks, hiding his hands in his pockets as he leans against the island next to you.
“Nope, my work is pretty flexible. I’m mostly my own boss.”
You see him nod from the corner of your eyes as you dig into the fruit salad, trying to act casual and ignore the fact that you’re in a hot pink bikini while he is dressed for work. 
“So how long are we going to play this?” he then asks out of the blue. 
You know exactly what he is talking about, but you won’t give in that easily. With your hands on your hips you turn to face him with an innocent look on your face and you don’t miss how his eyes snap down to your chest, then to your lips before they move back to your eyes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A tiny little smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he looks away, out to the terrace where the pool’s glistening surface is probably reminding him of the show you gave him not long ago.
“Is this supposed to be punishment?”
“Did you do something you deserve punishment for?” you tilt your head to the side. 
He opens his mouth to reply, but then decides against it, just stares back at you and you wish you could read his mind. He pushes himself away from the island and starts to walk away, you take it as your wind or this round, so you turn back to your snack, but then suddenly he moves back and cages you between his arms, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you. He is behind you now, not even touching you anywhere, but still, it’s as if he was everywhere on your body. Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear his low voice in your ear.
“If you want to play, I’m happy to play along. But be careful, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
This should be the perfect moment for a clever remark, but your mind is so fogged up you can’t articulate one solid thought. He moves back and you feel his presence disappear from behind you before you see him walking back towards the office, but before he could disappear he shoots one last comment at you.
“Pink looks good on you!”
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He did not joke when he said he would play along.
So far, only you’ve been playing this game, but since your little pool side performance, Harry has definitely turned it up on his side as well. 
He has been pretty subtle so far. The bastard has noticed that his tattoos make you droop, that you love to check out his backside whenever he is wearing fitted pants and those smirks… they make you weak in the knees every damn time. And he takes every opportunity to use these against you whenever you run into each other. 
You’ve been dropping by your dad’s office a lot more often than usually in hopes of seeing Harry and he’s been a frequent guest at your dad’s house as well. Stolen looks, tiny touches and never ending teasing have become your usual lately and you’ve been enjoying it way too much probably. 
It’s been pretty long since you had a crush and it’s an exciting change to have this little thing going on with Harry, whatever it really is. 
The major change is that you’ve started to text again. A few days after your encounter in your dad’s kitchen the flow started again and you’ve been talking ever since. It’s like before the failed date. 
Two weeks pass by and you realize it’s been only small little games, nothing extreme since your show at the pool. You’ve been trying to come up with a move that will leave him defeated and a shopping spree with Dani is what gives you the idea. 
She always makes you go lingerie shopping, she likes to surprise her boyfriend with new sets and while looking around you find one that catches your eyes and you end up buying it with the pure intention of making it part of your game. 
You’ve never been that big of a fan of fancy lingerie sets, but you do know it’s what you need to spice the game up. 
When you’re finally home you put on the quite revealing black set, fix your hair and even look up what poses are the best if you want to send racy pictures to your partner. Well, Harry is not your romantic partner, but definitely your partner in this game. 
You take quite a few pictures, some in the mirror, some with a timer, your camera roll turns into the newest issue of PlayBoy and it takes even more time for you to choose just one. When you finally settle on one it’s time for the fun part. Opening up the text threat with Harry, you send the photo and a few moments later a text.
Y/N: Sorry, meant to send it to someone else.
And then you just wait. 
For an hour your message stays unread, but then the status changes and your heart jumps into your throat. He saw the message eleven minutes ago, but there’s no response and it sends you down the rabbit hole.
Did your plan work? Is he fighting a major hard-on at the office? Or does he think your attempt to seduce him was ridiculous? Is he gonna lecture you about sending nudes? Why is he not responding???
Minutes turn into an hour and you’re losing hair at this point, regretting you even thought about sending him a spicy picture and you’re about to block his number, getting yourself ready to never see him again when your phone finally chimes with a message and Harry’s name appears in the notification.
HARRY: No. Shit like this can only be meant for me. I’m serious.
You gasp. Almost moan reading his words. And suddenly you forget about the madness you went through in the past hour. It was worth it, it was all worth it because this one message has lit you on fire. 
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His message stunned you so much you didn’t even reply. What could be said after that? 
Got it, sir.
Or maybe…
Don’t tell me what to do.
Oh yeah, that would have really messed with him, but you chose silence and he didn’t double text you either. It stopped the flow of regular messages too and in the next three days you realize how much you miss him when you’re not talking. 
You’re falling for him and you hate that beside the little games, he is not taking the step you want him to. 
A few days after the picture was sent an old friend of yours comes to visit his family in the city and the two of you agree to catch up over dinner. Salim was your study buddy through college, he was always up to spend the entire day in the library whenever you had a theoretical exam to take. Art school wasn’t just painting and creating all the time, unfortunately. After graduation he moved to France with his boyfriend and has been living there for the past years, but he often comes home to visit his loved ones and he always makes time for you as well. You’ve been keeping in touch, but not as regularly as you used to and it’s great to talk when you’re not only in the same time zone but also in the same room. 
“Look at you! You’re glowing!” he greets you when you get out of the Uber and he wraps you in a tight hug. 
“Not as much as you! I see Claude is taking good care of you!” you chuckle, squeezing him back before letting go of each other. He looks stylish as always and you notice he’s starting to dress more and more like Claude, whose style is excellent, by the way. They fit each other really well.
You walk into the restaurant, it’s one of your favorite places and the host shows you your table. You order appetizers and drinks and dig into everything you haven’t discussed over the phone in the past couple of months. 
“Now, tell me about that Tinder guy you last mentioned,” Salim smirks at you over the table and you realize you never told him the whole story, just that you were going on a date with Harry. 
A lot has happened since then.
You update him about the failed date and the meeting at the barbeque and how you’ve been messing with each other since then. 
“You did what?” He almost chokes on his wine.
“I sent him a nude picture,” you repeat yourself with a coy smile. 
“You’re really brave, I would have never had the balls,” he snorts. 
“I needed to step my game up. But we’ve been stuck since then.”
“He’s too busy jerking off to your photo,” he chuckles.
“No,” you smile. “Maybe he is… here.”
Your eyes grow wide when you spot the all too familiar form of Harry by the bar and he is staring at you with a bewildered look that does things to you that you can’t exactly explain. 
“What?” Salim’s face forms a confused frown. 
“He is… literally here. At the bar and don’t turn around, but he is looking straight at us.”
Your body is reacting as if you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, but nothing like that is happening, so you’re not sure why your reaction is so intense. Luckily, discretion is no problem for Salim, so he turns to see Harry in a way that’s not too obvious. When he looks back at you his eyes are just as wide as yours.
“Holy shit, he really is hot!”
“I know!” you whisper, not sure what to do, because Harry is still very much staring at you. “Fuck, should I say hi?”
“No, let him come to you if he wants to!”
Nodding, you try your best to focus on the food and your friend in front of you, but it’s almost impossible when you can clearly see Harry over Salim’s shoulder. Either he keeps staring at you or you always catch him looking, doesn’t matter, because it makes your stomach drop every time your gaze meets his. 
Then your phone lights up with a text from him.
HARRY: I hope it’s not a date.
“Oh my God, he thinks we are on a date,” you whisper to Salim upon reading the text while keeping your face as straight as humanly possible. 
“Is he jealous?”
“Most likely,” you nod, typing your response.
Y/N: And what if it is?
His reply comes before you could even lock the phone.
HARRY: It better not be.
Y/N: So bossy. Unfortunately, you have no right to hold me back from dating.
“I think I stood my ground, but I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.”
Placing the phone back to the table with screen down you’re determined to focus on Salim from now on, but it’s just impossible to move on from those texts. At some point however, Harry disappears from your view and you fight the urge to check your phone to see if he had any response.
While Salim is trying to decide if he wants some dessert or just another cocktail you excuse yourself to the restroom. It’s definitely been an emotional rollercoaster, not just your usual friendly catch-up, you’ll surely be thinking about it for a while. 
Just as you’re about to close the door behind you a foot sticks in and stops you and then everything happens so fast.
The door is forced open and you gasp as you take a step back and watch Harry walk in, close the door behind him and lock it as well. His eyes are burning as he looks at you and you’re just a speechless ragdoll as he pushes you against the cold, tiled wall, caging you between his arms, his hips pressing against yours.
“Who is he?” he hisses at you, his pupils dilated and wild and you’ve never seen him from this close, you’re basically breathing the same air.
“He’s…” You can’t speak or form any words, the air is pushed out of your lungs every time you try to fill them enough to give you the strength to speak up. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, but it’s making your pussy throb for sure.
“Answer me or I’ll go out and make a scene to find out.”
“He’s just a friend,” you manage to breathe out. 
“Are you fucking him?”
“No.” You want to tell him that you couldn’t even if you wanted to, because Salim would be more interested in fucking him than you, but the words die on your tongue when he exhales sharply at your answer.
“Fuck your little games, Y/N,” he then says, almost growls as he shakes his head in defeat. 
“Fuck me instead,” you hear yourself saying, but it’s as if it wasn’t you who spoke, yet you still said exactly what you had in your mind. 
HIs eyes are throwing flames again when one of his hands moves to the side of your neck, his thumb moving under your chin to tilt your head upwards, angling your head, but still just teasing you.
“No more games.”
“No,” you shake your head desperately. Your hands have found their way to his waist and you fist his shirt, fighting the urge to rip it off him.
“I mean it, Y/N. It’s all in or nothing. I want you to be mine.”
“I’m already yours.”
His kiss comes so fast your head goes dizzy for a second before you recover and return it just as eagerly as it came. It’s been the longest foreplay, weeks worth of teasing and yearning after each other end now as Harry’s body presses you against the wall with so much force it’s almost too much, but you want him as close as possible. 
Even though you’re certain you’ve lost your mind, your consciousness still knows you’re in a public bathroom and you have limited time. Harry knows too and he wastes no time moving you over to the counter, he hoists you up and sits you on top of the granite next to the sink. You gladly wrap your legs around his waist and lock him against you while his mouth is now exploring the curve of your neck and shoulders, desperately pushing the straps of your dress to the side to reach more of your skin. Your body is reacting instantly to him, your hips roll against him and you feel his bulge between your legs, a tortured moan slipping out of your mouth. 
“Harry!” you beg him, when his hand slips under your dress and into your underwear, his skilled fingers teasing you just right, but you need him fast and hard, this is not the time and place to play games.
“I wish I could take my time with you,” he grunts before playfully biting the soft skin on your neck while unbuckling his belt. “But I’m gonna fuck you fast and you’ll take it like the good little slut you are.”
All you can do is whine and force your legs further apart, watching him push his pants and underwear down in one motion, his cock springing free, ready to ruin you. Harry pushes your dress up your torso and hooks a finger into your panties, pushing the fabric to the side to reveal your drenched pussy. 
“Have you thought about me while touching yourself?” he asks, his other hand going to his cock, lazily tugging on it, precum dripping from the tip.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He jerks on his cock a few more times before spitting on it and pushing inside you without warning. A scream dies in your throat, because you bite into your own hand not to make too much noise, but he is definitely bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, his erection is filling you up, stretching you like nothing and no one before.
“Don’t whine, I know you can take it,” he pants, his eyes rapidly switching between your face and his cock buried balls deep inside you. 
All you can do is nod before he starts moving. He gives you a few slow thrusts to adjust, but then he picks his pace up and starts slamming into you ruthlessly.
And you love every moment of it.
It’s so animalistic, so intoxicating, your head feels dizzy again and you need everything inside you not to start screaming his name. Normally you need more stimulation and time to feel your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, but it’s different with Harry. You can already feel your climax nearing.
“So fucking good, you take me so well,” he preaches you, his hands holding onto your thighs to keep you in place and you curl an arm around his neck to pull yourself closer to him, pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss.
“I wanted to fuck you the moment I saw you in that bar.”
His words reach your brain and you process what he said, but you can’t reply at that moment, because you’re already on the verge of your orgasm.
It doesn’t take long for the both of you to reach your climax, he is the first one but you chase after him just seconds later. It lasts long and he keeps thrusting into you even when it’s dying down. His face is buried in your neck when he finally stops and you both are panting heavily.
When he lifts his head he’s looking at you with hazy eyes, but the smile that tugs on the corners of his lips is something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.
“You said you wanted to fuck me the moment you saw me at the bar,” you repeat his words from earlier now that you can actually form words. Judging from the look on his face he knows why you’re questioning him.
You never met at the bar, he stood you up that night.
“I went there,” he admits. “I saw that other guy flirting with you and… I didn’t think I stood a chance with you. So I left.”
You’re staring back at him in disbelief. All this time you thought he didn’t come because you weren’t good enough for him, but it was the opposite. He was there. He came and wanted to meet you, but lost his confidence because of that random guy.
“You’re the only person who ever stood a chance with me,” you softly say as you reach up to take his face in your hands.
“I thought I was too old for you.”
“But I knew you were older all along,” you chuckle. “It was never an issue for me.”
“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.” He kisses you softly and it’s mind-blowing how he was fucking you hard just moments ago and now he is treating you so gently.
“I need to go back, Salim will get suspicious,” you sigh as you slip off the counter, trying to fix yourself.
“Oh, your date is waiting for you,” he teases you, pulling his pants back up.
“He is gay, Harry,” you chuckle and watch his expression change.
“Okay, I approve.”
You laugh and pull him down for another kiss.
“Should we talk about this after?”
“I can come over when you get home.”
“I’m afraid we won’t do much talking if you do that,” you grin at him, arching an eyebrow.
“Promise, I’ll be a gentleman for at least thirty minutes. That should be enough for all the talking.”
“Uhuh, alright. See you at mine then,” you nod before slipping out of the bathroom.
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The plates are empty, dinner is now officially nearing its end but you still haven’t broken the news to your dad. 
The news that you and Harry are together.
He is sitting across from you at the table, his hesitant eyes finding your gaze every other minute. He is shitting his pants, you know that, even though you told him your dad will probably take it well. He is not one to stress about such things, but Harry didn’t believe you, he thinks he’ll throw him out of the company and tell you to never see him again.
Absurd. 
Clearing your throat you decide it’s time for the announcement.
“Dad, I want to tell you something,” you speak up and panic flashes through Harry’s face for a moment, but he’s quick to mask it. 
“Alright, I’m listening,” he smiles at you.
“Okay, I’ll just… Um, I want you to know that I’ve been dating someone. It’s kind of… serious,” you add, your eyes finding Harry over the table and you don’t miss the blush on his cheeks. 
“That’s amazing! Do I know this person?” your dad enthuses.
“Well, you know him very well. He is actually sitting here at the table.”
You watch as realization washes over his face, he looks over at Harry and then back at you, while you both wait for his reaction.
Then a tiny smile appears on his face and you know you were right, there was nothing to worry about.
“That’s great news, I’m happy for you.”
Harry exhales in relief and you can’t help but laugh.
“See? I told you,” you smirk at him with a shrug.
“Are you sure you’re alright with it?” Harry asks, still a bit doubtful, but your dad just smiles at him warmly. 
“I’m more than sure, son. Why would I not be alright with it? I trust you with my company, I trust you with my daughter too. Easy as it is.”
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
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braverytattoos · 9 months
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Harry getting overwhelmed while singing What Makes You Beautiful 
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moonchildstyles · 9 months
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rosemary
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rosemary part one: harry has a lot of secrets and has perfected the art of being alone. y/n likes to wear bows in her hair and tries harder than anyone harry has ever known.
wordcount: 14.5k+
—————
The sound of the lock clicking in place as Harry twisted the deadbolt on his front door had his shoulders relaxing. The kind of comfort a locked door brought was something he'd never take for granted. 
He kicked off his shoes beside the door, the dingy carpet making his beaten Vans look a lot cleaner than they really were. His keys clamoring atop the rickety side table he had set up next to the door had him wincing at the volume. He didn't like loud noises much anyway, but especially not after one of his longer shifts. Harry bypassed the single curtained window in his apartment, leaving the drapes heavily closed despite the morning light crawling over the horizon. 
First order of business was changing out of his work uniform. He hated nothing more than relaxing in the same pants he had worked all night in, even if the dress code of the grocery store was on the lax side. He flung the maroon collared shirt into his hamper, followed by the set of stiff, dark pants he wouldn't wear ever in his daily life. He could have melted as soon as he threw on a heather grey t-shirt and tattered sweats. 
The second he sunk into his bed, springs creaking under his weight, he felt the knots in his muscles begin to loosen. He'd never worked over nights before at any of his previous jobs, and he hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to adjust to falling asleep when the sun came up and the challenge his body would pose over working when he should be resting. At least, he was home. 
His studio apartment wasn't heavily furnished—or even lightly furnished, if he was being honest. This was his seventh home in the last handful of years, and after a while the idea of lugging furniture around and anything other than the essentials made him just as exhausted as the actual process of moving. It was easier to pack up and leave when there wasn't much for him to miss. Instead, he often bought secondhand, or anything cheap whenever he settled in a place that seemed good enough for the time being.
This particular move left him with a plain bed frame, the legs uneven but fixed with the help of a couple of old books. His pillows were thin, matching the frayed sheets he had stretched across his mattress and the threadbare comforter topping the whole thing. Like with most of his past apartments, the carpets held stains from before he moved in, walls yellowed from cigarettes he didn't smoke, and the kitchen appliances worked at their convenience. The only things that were truly his, that he never parted with in any of his moves and made this place less of a crash pad, were the few well-loved books under his bed that weren't being used to prop up the frame, and the small photo of his mother and sister sitting on a shelf he was lucky enough to have found at a garage sale when he moved in. 
Despite it all, Harry liked this place. 
The town he'd landed in was on the quieter side, too small for much trouble to rise up. He hoped that would make it an easy place to stick around for a while.
His body felt heavy when he forced himself to stand from his bed and pad over to the tiny kitchen tucked in the corner of the space. As exhausted as his body was, his brain was still very much awake and urging him to eat something before he settled any.
His kitchen was made up of limited cabinet space, a trio of stubborn appliances, and a square of loosely-laid tiles marking the confines of the space. The flimsy cabinets were barely hanging onto their hinges, from before even Harry moved in. The shelves were sparsely dotted with canned food and boxed snacks. They were the easiest and cheapest things to grab, even if they weren't necessarily bites that he liked. Plus, they were easy to travel with if he needed to leave in a split. 
The stubby refrigerator manning one of the walls held only the bare essentials, leaving the shelves and door more bare than not. The appliance mostly held the frozen meals he was able to get a discount on through his job. The microwave embedded in the wall stunk like burnt hair every time he ran it for longer than ten seconds. The stove was the most reasonable method of heating up food in this apartment, Harry had found, even if only two out of the four burners operated on more than a simmer. He had never used the oven in the three months since he made this his home, despite the fact it had been cleared by his landlord on move in day. The exposed wiring sticking out of the back looked like it would cause a house fire instead of just heating a lasagna. 
Harry bypassed it all as he rifled through his near-empty cabinets. To be fair, this wasn't the worst place he'd ever lived, so he'd take it if things were on the rundown side and carried an odd smell if he paid close enough attention. It was a routine the way he pulled out a can from his cupboard, a Spaghettio's label wrapped around the tin, before reaching for the misshapen pot he kept in a lower cabinet. His movements felt robotic as he went along, forming his meal out of habit more than any conscious thought. His brain happily turned onto autopilot as he stirred the runny tomato sauce, noodles floating through, until boiling bubbles broke through the surface. 
Taking it off the heat, Harry scooped it into a bowl. This was good enough for him. 
With the pot in the sink to be washed and the can in the trash, he moved on tired feet back to his bed. He didn't have a dining table to eat at, and he didn't really care if he was honest. It wasn't as if he was hosting dinner parties or entertaining guests. He was happy enough with nestling into his blankets and eating on his bed. 
Tucked underneath his pillow, Harry pulled out a well-worn book. A dog-eared page marked his place in the oil-softened pages. The spine no longer cracked when he folded open the pages, the stiff set in the glue having settled somewhere after his fiftieth read. The bent and frayed cover no longer phased him anymore, nor did the name inscribed in the inside cover that wasn't his. No matter the state, this book followed him through every move, every change, and every sleepless night.
He knew this love story like the back of his hand; the pages one of the only constants in his life of transiency. 
Harry wasn't even that much of a reader the first time he had picked up the volume. He had only been looking for something to escape into when he first started going on jobs, the stress and guilt beginning to warp his mind. These pages still hadn't lost their shine in his eyes, this story having been one of the only bright points when he swore he was digging himself to rock bottom. 
Absentmindedly spooning bites of his meal into his mouth, Harry slipped into the familiar story. The comfort was almost enough to have him lulled into something safe enough that he could have fallen asleep where he was sitting, memories of every sleepless night when he had turned to this book hitting his system. It was a feat little else had been able to achieve, and Harry was grateful for that. He couldn't keep staying up at all hours now that he had the challenge of flipping his days with this new job. 
Sitting on his well-loved bed, a well-loved copy of his favorite book in hand, and something that could pass as breakfast if he squinted hard enough, Harry felt at peace for a moment. 
He didn't mind being alone, not when it was like this anyway. He hoped he wouldn't have to move on from this place for a while. 
—————
Cardboard scraped against Harry's forearm as he reached into his box, digging through the packages of cookies and crackers that filled this specific shipment. The fluorescent lights above him felt especially fried now that the sun had gone down, washing out his skin and paling the ink of his tattoos. 
While the rest of the night crew were paired off and working together to stock the shelves, Harry was commissioned alone. He worked better by himself, he knew that, and it was nice to have his boss know that now too. It only took almost two months into his employment until everyone realized he wasn't the kind of person that enjoyed idle chatter or wanted to get close to any of these people around him. Now, he was able to enjoy his music in peace, the white wire connecting the buds hitting his chest as he moved. 
Harry had a system with the way he worked. He wanted to finish as fast as possible, and not waste any more energy than he had to. He tried to organize his boxes as much as he could on the cart before he was stocking each line of product as quickly as he could, extras being cast aside until he could make a trip to the back room. It was all a system, something he planned out without even thinking. If not for the fading ache in his shoulders and knees he would feel at the end of his shift, he wouldn't even really remember his movements. 
Given this focus, there wasn't much that could distract Harry as he worked. His goal was to finish as fast as possible and move onto something else to fill his mundane nights, not to linger on the guests of the grocery store or fill the silence with small talk he didn't care about. There was a reason he gravitated towards the operations side of this job and not the customer service aspects.
That's why he didn't give it much of a thought when he saw a pastel streak flash in the corner of his eye. He continued doing his job, organizing his box some, as he filtered through the packages of biscuits and sweet crackers, soft sleeves of cookies, and bags of other products. It wasn't until the pastel streak drew closer did he instinctively glance in its direction. 
Her back was to him as she held her gaze upwards. She was scanning the shelves, this woman, complete with an overlarge cream sweater and a peach colored bow in her hair that shone in the light like the velvet fuzz of the color's namesake. One of the grocery store's signature maroon baskets was at her side, the handles tucked in her elbow. There was barely anything in her basket, but that isn't what had Harry's brows knitting in the middle by the time he stitched his attention back on his work. 
It was way too late for anyone to be doing any menial shopping in his opinion, especially not a girl who looked as if she might deem throwing flower petals in the face of an attacker to be sufficient self-defense. But, that wasn't his business, he reminded himself. It didn't help soothe the tears in his mental health to imagine the worst possible scenarios starring those around him. 
A centering breath was sucked in through his nose as he flicked the switch in his brain that had him thinking only of his body's movements. He curled around himself, stepping out of the way as much as possible so the pastel-peach girl could go about her business and disturb Harry as little as possible. The less approachable he looked, the less he'd be approached. 
He didn't know if she wandered that aisle for the next couple of minutes or traced down the shelves on the other side before coming back, but that telltale shift in the air around him told him she was now behind him. The static told him she was right there, at his back. 
Harry didn't acknowledge her presence, instead making it clear he was working and didn't want to be disturbed. He hoped she could see the wire of his headphones that much clearer against his dark shirt. He wasn't inviting her presence; if she needed help, Brett and Fawn were just a couple of aisles down and much more friendly. 
As with some attempts at camouflage, it didn't work in Harry's favor. Some people didn't always see what was clearly in front of them, he knew that. 
A small hand, complete with pearl polished nails and skin smelling of something sweet like honey and the savory bite of herbs, landed on the crook of his elbow. "Excuse me?" her voice leaked through his headphones. 
With a tick appearing in his jaw and a pace of breathing he was sure looked just as forced as it was, Harry halted his work with a sleeve of graham crackers in his hand. His features felt stiff when he turned towards this girl. 
He spoke as he twisted in his spot with a hand yanking his headphones out of his ears, her touch falling from his arm just as quickly. "What?"
When Harry's gaze brushed over her, cataloguing details to add to the pastel streak he had thought her to be before, the same attention that went into his work was now employed in keeping his features stoic and muscles hard. This woman... was very pretty. 
Her cream sweater he had seen from behind was actually a cardigan, buttoned loosely over her torso with a pale peach top underneath. The buttons were pearls, matching the shifting light that characterized the varnish on her nails. Her jeans were high waisted, ripped in places that lead to a pair of pristine white tennis shoes, complete with a set of pink laces threaded over the tongue. The bow held back pieces of hair that would have normally fallen around her face, leaving small strands fluttered as if matching the tendrils of her bow that drifted down her back. 
In the time he was trying to figure out who was standing right in front of him, she blinked at his harsh tone, almost recoiling as if she'd been struck. Her hands became a bundle at her middle as he squirmed under his gaze. Harry swallowed harshly. 
"Sorry to bother you," she started, recovering some with a short smile on her lips, "I was just wondering... God, this sounds so much more dumb out loud than I thought it would." She cut herself off with a soft laugh, dropping her gaze from his to settle on the cardboard box on his cart. "Do you have any of those white chocolate raspberry cookies that come in the bag in your box? The soft ones?" she tired again, shuffling her toes against the linoleum, "I didn't see any on the shelf, so I was hoping you might have some in one of your boxes. They're my favorite so..." 
Harry wanted to be annoyed, he really did. There were hundreds of less offensive situations he'd been in that bothered him more than he knew his mother would be proud of him for, but this just couldn't be added to the list. And that annoyed him. Though, there was something in him that felt a bit contented knowing that there was still a heart buried somewhere inside of him that wouldn't allow him to get upset at someone like her. 
"Let me look." His voice was gruff as he brushed a knuckle under his nose. 
He knew exactly what she was looking for, the packaging coming to mind. He liked this brand too, though he rarely ever felt as if he could spare the cash to indulge. He'd never tried the raspberry variation, though. 
Working stiffly, he rifled through the box until he found the bottom layer of product. A white, rustic looking bag was tucked in a corner. The brand name stylized as if it were embedded on a wooden board was printed on the white bag, with the name of the cookies and the variation underneath. 
White chocolate chunks with bites of real raspberry in a soft cookie. 
That's the one. 
Fishing it out, Harry unceremoniously presented it to her. He made a point to keep his eyes from lingering on her for too long. He needed to keep his clear head. 
"This one?" 
She lit up in a way Harry couldn't ignore. Her eyes had to have been holding glitter behind her irises the way the color brightened, matching her smile. Creases appeared around the corners of her eyes, soft lips stretched and complemented with laugh lines. 
"Yes, yes, those ones!" she chattered off, reaching out to take the bag from him. 
Harry shoved the crinkling bag into her grasp, watching as she stumbled back some before placing it in her basket among what he could now see was a bundle of rosemary and a package of noodles. Nonetheless, her smile didn't falter as she turned towards him again.
"Thank you..." she trailed off, her gaze dropping to his chest where a name tag was pinned to the breast, "Harry." 
There was a lag in between the second he heard her voice wrap around his name and the beats of Harry's heart resuming at a rapid pace. His throat went dry for a moment, something he couldn't believe was happening to him over something like this. When was the last time someone learned his name just because they wanted to know him? 
He swallowed that line of questioning down as soon as it popped up. "Um, yeah," he told her, turning back to his box as soon as he had the words out. 
His headphones he had dangling in his grasp were replaced in his ears, his music still playing on, a different song now filtering than the one that had been when he ripped them out. Harry pushed his objective to the forefront of his mind, leaving little space to keep up with the way his stomach tightened hearing this girl's voice saying his name. He didn't want to focus on the fact he could still feel her presence for a moment after he had dismissed her. He wasn't going to let any of this fluster him—or whatever it was that could happen to a person who barely had any feelings left. 
Calculating his movements was the only viable distraction until he could feel that static of her presence flitter away. It was only then that he dared to indulge himself in a short glance aimed in her direction. He caught the barest view of her wobbly bow and the edge of her loose cardigan before she disappeared around the corner, leaving him alone once more. 
He was going to forget her, Harry decided. Whatever reaction he just had, wasn't going to happen again. 
—————
Gazing down at his hands, Harry only saw red. It wasn't his blood that tainted his skin, but there was a pain in his body that made him want to argue that there was no way he wasn't injured. From somewhere far—but not far enough—away, a crashing sound rumbled through the warehouse. He felt his bones vibrate and his head go fuzzy. More blood dripped from his skin. 
Another crash sounded, this time much closer to where Harry couldn't move his feet. It was as if he were bolted to the spot. More blood, more scars. 
From the corner of his eye, he saw someone. They were walking with a purpose, heavy on their feet. 
His hands still shook even when he took his eyes off of the thick crimson dripping from his fingers. The person coming towards him looked familiar. Too familiar. 
The second they were close enough, Harry recognized that it was himself. There was a gun in the clone's hand, the barrel pointed right at his head. 
Another loud crash.
Harry woke with a start, rocketing up in bed. His breathing was heavy, thick and humid, with his hands shaking where they were clutching the thin bedding askew over his form. There was a sheen of cold sweat covering his body, his hair clinging to the back of his neck.
Looking at his hands, untangling from the bedding, Harry felt his heart rate go down a notch when he no longer saw blood coating the appendages. His vision still blurred at the edges as he came down, his lips mouthing a mantra he wanted so badly to believe: 
It's not real, it's just a dream. It's not real, it's just a dream. It's not real, it's just a dream.
He didn't live that life anymore, he reminded himself. That was a part of his past, but it's all over now. Those scars would never reopen and his hands would never be stained that way again. He would make sure of that. 
As he talked himself down, the rest of his apartment came back into view. The edges of his vision sharpened, showing him the rest of his full bed, rumpled sheets, and the book he had dropped when he finally managed to fall asleep in the middle of a passage. He busied his hands as fixed his book, righting the bent cover and smoothing back the crease that folded into the page he left on. With that sweat on his bare chest and thin comforter falling to his lap, he realized just how cold his apartment was.
Taking a deep breath, his lungs shuddering as he fought to regulate the pacing he lost in his sleep, he swung his legs over the side of his bed. He worked slowly as he replaced his book back to his rightful slot underneath his bed. Lethargy weighed down his limbs as he searched for his phone somewhere on the floor as he sat with his legs crossed underneath his bottom, the scratch of the carpet dragging across his ankles from where his pants rode up grounding him. 
The screen of his phone was far too bright when he powered it up, the time being of no surprise to him even if he was disappointed. He only got a few hours of sleep before that dream woke him up into the real world, plenty of time left before he should begin getting ready to go to work. 
This was how it always was for the past handful of years. Harry was lucky to have slept at all really, as some days he wasn't that fortunate, but there was no way he was going to be able to drift off again. But, he'd gotten rather good at finding ways to fill his time. 
Standing on wobbly legs, Harry took his time stripping his bed. There was time to get through some laundry, he figured, hauling both his bedding as well as his full hamper to the rickety washer and dryer stationed in the hall closet. 
Every movement was a distraction: separating the colors of his clothing, the measuring of the detergent, and the three times he had to set the cycle before the machine finally came to life all did their part to keep him from obsessively staring at his hands as if they would do something bad if he wasn't watching. It was routine the way he didn't allow himself to dwell on the dreams he could no longer forget like he could when they first started sporadically. 
Harry felt like a shadow as the hours passed, even after a cold shower shocked his nerves and a bland meal had warmed his stomach. But, at least he was awake. 
—————
Watching his hands as he stocked and stocked the shelves in front of him, more and more of himself came back to Harry. This was the perk of the more manual of jobs he had. He could use his body and keep track of every movement he made, every stretch of his muscles coming from his own volition. 
It felt like a ritual the way a pastel flash struck the corner of his vision. 
It'd been almost a month since the first time he'd seen her, and she made more trips with a basket tucked into the crook of her elbow than he had seen most other patrons. Maybe he only noticed her now that he recognized her and the phantom ache that touched the muscles of his stomach every time he saw her wander close to him. Nonetheless, he saw her more often than not, barely anything in her basket but small items and snacks, never once with a full shopping cart or a list in hand. 
In an odd way, he'd almost begun to expect her—look for her. It was a part of his shift to see her drifting through the aisles in something comfortable, a ribbon in her hair, and that ever-present smile on her face. He'd never admit that though, even to himself. 
Instead, when he saw her drift into his aisle—the frozen meal section tonight—he kept to himself. Harry didn't even bother to look up at her for more than a glance, even when he paused his music as he listened to her footsteps padding over the floor. Just like she always did since the first night she went out of her way to read his name tag, she offered him a soft smile of recognition as she passed by. Even though Harry hadn't reciprocated a single one. 
Just like that, she kept moving, Harry's ear trained to hear her pad off until he couldn't distinguish her footsteps against any of the other noises filtering through the grocery store. He played his music again then, allowing something else to fill his head before she could wiggle her way inside. 
Though he would rather not acknowledge it, there was something about the fact that the haunted feeling that had clung to him since his nightmare earlier in the day, finally began to dissolve. That turning in his stomach every time he saw one of the thin scars of his hands turned into the residual flaps of a butterfly's wings, even if he didn't dare give the feeling a name or even think of the cause. 
Despite the fact there was something loose in his muscles now as he worked, his head a little bit more clear with that dream tied up in a peachy bow in the back of his mind, Harry was going to ignore it all just as he had every time he saw that girl. 
—————
"Thank you, Harry!" 
The bow girl's chirping gratitude only had Harry looking at her stiffly with a grumbled Yeah falling from his lips. Just as she had done the last couple of months since she made herself a presence during his shifts, she simply gave him a smile before bouncing away with her basket only containing a carton of banana milk and her favorite cookies. She was no longer perturbed by the standoffish responses he gave her. Harry couldn't decide if he liked that or not. 
It was like this at least a couple of times a week. She never did a big shop, only stopping by at later times to pick up individual ingredients for a dinner she had chatted to him about, or little snacks she couldn't seem to go a day without. During at least one of her trips, she found an excuse to talk to Harry; she asked him about his day if she was close enough to feel comfortable starting a question (Harry never gave her a good answer, honestly), she told him about her own day and what she was shopping for if there was anything specific she had in mind. She almost always had a bow pinned to her hair, fluttering behind her and matching whatever soft piece of clothing she had cinched around her form. Harry had even begun fishing out a pack of her favorite cookies from his boxes if he was stocking that aisle, just to make it easy if she came in and asked him for assistance. It made the interactions quicker and less bothersome—at least that's what he told himself. 
He knew more about her and her routines than he had any of the hundreds of people he'd met in the last handful of years since he started moving around. Even if that did make him feel a bit guilty knowing that she didn't have a clue about who exactly she was sharing these parts of herself with; she didn't know the mess she was tiptoeing around every time she interacted with him. 
Tonight was no different, her leaving a rattling in Harry's bones that he wanted nothing more than to ignore like every other part of his life. If he was superstitious, he would think she could have cast some kind of spell on him with the way she and her little bows lingered in his brain long after she had checked out and gone on her way home. 
That rattling followed him as he made his way into the backroom, his empty box needing to be replaced. An exasperated sigh fought to leave his chest when he saw almost half of the overnight team huddled in the area, puttering about as they chattered and pretended to work. He didn't like being roped into their conversations, and that almost always happened when he ran into more than two of them at once. 
Harry didn't say a word as he broke down the cardboard box on his cart, pushing it off to the pile of the other flattened boxes before he reached for another. The conversations had quieted some when he walked in, but he could still hear what sounded like Brett and Fawn flirting in the back corner with a cart of refrigerated items that needed to go on the opposite end of the store, and Theo talking to two of the other guys that Harry hadn't bothered to remember the names of. 
"Busy night, huh, Harry?" Theo started, dropping whatever topic he had been rambling to his friends about just a moment before. 
"Yeah," Harry answered, voice stiff. It wasn't any more busy than any other night as far as he was concerned. Besides, he had other things he needed to worry about than to be making conversation with a coworker he barely knew. There was still a peach colored ribbon tying his stomach in tiny knots that he needed to fix. 
Soon enough, a silence fell through the backroom when the others made their way out. Only Harry and Theo were left, Harry doing his part to semi-organize his chosen box before heading out on the floor again. 
Maybe it was the rattling in his bones, or the vision of a peach colored bow that he saw every time he blinked, but something in Harry felt a little reckless when he peeked over at Theo focusing on his own box. 
"That girl," Harry rumbled, feeling odd in his skin as he spoke, "The one with the bows in her hair... She comes in a lot." 
Theo looked taken aback for a moment, his eyes wide with furrowed brows as he looked in Harry's direction. He even glanced over his shoulder as if there were anyone else there for the conversation to be aimed at. Harry had to keep from scoffing, dropping his gaze back to his working hands. 
Floundering over his words, Theo tried to catch up once he realized Harry was voluntarily talking. "Um, the—uh—the one with bows in her hair?" 
Harry hummed in response. "She's in a couple of times a week." 
"Ohhh," Theo sounded, familiarity touching his tone, "You mean (Y/N)?" 
Harry swallowed at the sound of her name. He'd never asked for it himself. "If that's her name." 
From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Theo nodding his head. "She comes in a lot, yeah. She's not good at keeping a list and always forgets stuff if she tries to do big shops, so she just comes in when she wants something or runs out." 
Though he didn't want this information to mean something to him, Harry felt a part of himself slowly being fulfilled the more details he learned. She didn't tell him these kinds of things when she rambled about her dinner choice for the night. 
Keeping his gaze tacked to his hands, Harry kept his words measured and calculated. "Oh," he started, "Is she from here?" 
"She's lived here forever, yeah. Why?" 
A beat passed as Harry opted to ignore the second part of Theo's response. He didn't need to have any details as to why Harry was asking after someone after working together for five months with only a handful of interactions. Even if he did want to share that, Harry didn't have any real answers to that why, anyway. 
"Does she... What does she do?" Harry asked, the phrasing of his words feeling awkward falling out of his mouth. He was lucky he was so used to shielding his emotions and staying stoic, otherwise he would have cringed where he stood. 
"Like for work?" Theo asked, his eyes warm on Harry's profile. 
Lifting his shoulders, Harry only shrugged in response. It was probably a good idea to keep his mouth shut. 
"She—uh—she works at the bakery over on Windsor. She and my sister work there together," Theo told him, acting as if Harry was supposed to know what bakery he was talking about and who his sister was. "(Y/N)'s pretty nice, though." 
"Right," was all Harry offered by the time he finished organizing his box. He didn't bother to give anything more in response or wait for Theo to elaborate before he was walking out on the floor again. Even when he could feel Theo's eyes stuck to his back.
No doubt would this interaction make its way to the rest of the team before the end of the shift. 
It was harmless curiosity, Harry argued. He just had to believe the harmless part. 
—————
It's funny the kinds of things that happened in the day that then were transported and highlighted in a dream. Stranger's faces, odd conversations, a passing thought, things that normally wouldn't have been catalogued at all by a waking brain but were held tightly in the middle of sleep. 
Despite the fact Harry made it home from work at three in the morning, he still ended up waking in the early morning after a lingering dream. He didn't remember much about the scene the longer he was awake, but he knew there were swaying bows in pretty hair. A soft voice could have been there too, along with a subtle smile, but he couldn't remember. All because he had seen those ribbons and heard that voice the night before. 
For a split second, when he was surfacing from sleep, he wanted so badly to just roll over and continue whatever play was running in the back of his mind. But, sleep didn't come easy for him; he'd have to take whatever small amount of hours his body allowed him and be grateful. 
That left Harry to lay in his bed and stare at the ceiling above him, peeks of sunshine beginning to filter through the heavy drapes on his single window. He pretended as if he wasn't waiting for flashes of the dream to come back to him, even as he reluctantly found his footing in the real world. 
He was off work for the next two days. Forty-eight hours he would have to fill with the kinds of tasks he dreaded almost as much as actually reporting in for a shift. 
Grocery shopping was at the top of the to-do list as well as the hated tasks list. He hated going into his work on his day off just so he could shop the canned food aisles and dodge small talk from the dayshift coworkers that pretended as if they had met him more than once during his training shifts. A trip to the library was due as well, his borrowed books packed away under his bed and read from cover to cover in the week since he'd last visited the building. There was also always cleaning and laundry to be done, more things to keep him busy before he would undoubtedly retire to his bed for the rest of the day and read as much as he could to keep his brain from going to mush. 
Harry sighed at the day's agenda. This was the life he wanted, though, so he was going to appreciate every day of the boring tasks and the mundane dredge. 
By the time he had a load of laundry running in his machine and his hands buried in the sink, doing dishes he put off until his weekend, Harry's mind was already wandering somewhere outside of his apartment. 
Theo had been complaining last night towards the end of the shift about how his sister needed him to pick her up from work today. She was opening and had stayed the night at her boyfriend's before, but he wouldn't be able to drop her off and pick her up. That left Theo to take up the job in exchange for gas money and whatever treats his sister could sneak from the bakery. Theo kept droning on about how since it was Sunday, the bakery opened up early, leaving him to have to fight to stay awake after going home so he wouldn't miss picking up his sister. 
Throughout all of the petty complaining and meaningless rambling, the only thing that stuck out to Harry was the hours of this bakery being narrowed down. He didn't mean to pay attention, not now after knowing who else worked there, but it was just another one of those things that stuck in his brain like a dreamy detail. 
An early opening could mean that his bow girl—(Y/N)—might be there as well. 
Harry's hands flexed under the soapy water. It wouldn't be such a bad thing to go to a bakery on a Sunday morning. No one would think anything of it—and neither should he. He liked pastries as much as the next person. Even if trying out one of the town's baked goods wasn't necessarily his goal for the outing didn't mean that it would be a bad idea. He had more self-control than most people—a bit of indulgence wouldn't break him. 
Before he could get too far ahead of himself, Harry focused on washing the dishes in the sink. He laid each piece gently out on the tea towel flattened out beside the sink, taking extra care as if his slow pace could prove that he still had all that control he was boasting about. If he was really on the edge of breaking—about to make a bad decision—he wouldn't be so in control, he argued. He even waited for the load of laundry to make that erratic beeping noise that notified him that he could trade into the dryer. 
Still clad in only a pair of sweats that acted as his pajamas, Harry lazily reached for his phone before looking at the time. Just before nine a.m. According the Theo, the bakery opened at eight in the morning today, right when he was picking up his sister after her early morning shift. Harry held onto that air of nonchalance as he looked up the open confectionaries around him, finding a link at the top of the page for The Flour Pot. 
They were marked as open, hours laid out on the same popup. Only a handful of miles away from the grocery store and on the same block as his library. It wouldn't take him longer than fifteen minutes to get there. He could even stop by the library on his way back or do his grocery shopping. 
There, he cemented. That just proved this whole thing wasn't just to see a fluttering bow or hear a soft voice. He had other things he needed to do, and after hearing so much about this bakery, he could try it out while he was in town. 
With his laundry rumbling in the dryer and his dishes laid out to dry on the counter, Harry changed out of his sweats and threw on a hoodie to keep him warm against the chill in the morning air. He tucked his library books under his arm and started out the door, locking up behind him just like any other day. 
Just as he figured, he was back in town in less than twenty-minutes, the directions on his phone taking him just a few buildings down from the library. With the early hour, he couldn't see the bakery being especially busy, but when he found a parking spot across the street from the building, his hands clenched around the steering wheel. 
Through the lit windows, he saw a line inside. Morning sunshine kept the glass especially translucent, even through the decals pasted to the panes boasting the bakery's name and pots of leafy plants to play on the pun of the title. He could spot glimpses of patrons lounging in the few tables provided while others were waiting in line, the queue long enough to have others shuffling aside when the door behind them swung open. 
Harry's heartbeat quickened at the sight. He never liked being where so many people were crowded. It was hard to keep track of so many and what they were doing and saying when they were packed in a tight space. He thought—hoped—that with the early time he'd be beating out the crowds. 
Taking a deep breath, Harry reminded himself that there was no harm in having more than ten people in one space. This was something he needed to work on anyway—something he was working on. There was no point to becoming so nervous over something like this. The odds of someone recognizing him or something out of his control happening were slim to none. 
The whole point in leaving those years ago was to have a normal life. This was part of that. 
Before he could dwell on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, Harry swung open his door. He planted his feet on the solid ground, stuffed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, and trekked on. 
Keeping his eyes on his feet as he walked, Harry didn't look up until the entrance to the bakery was right in front of him. He had his phone gripped in one hand, prepared to pull it out and fiddle with it in an attempt to sate his nerves, while the other reached out for the golden handle embedded in the glass and wood door. 
One peek through the crystal had his hand falling from the handle. 
Behind the counter was (Y/N). 
She had her back to the door, but he knew that bow. She'd worn it before. He knew that silken pearl color, the slightly lopsided loops, the fabric nestled in with the mess of hair on the top of her head. He knew that if she turned around, even spared a glance over her shoulder, what kind of smile would be painted over her features and the soft set of her features that was practically her trademark. He wanted her to turn around just so he could compare that smile to the ghost of the one in his dreams
It's the fluttering in his stomach and the pacing of his heart behind the cage of his ribs that had Harry turning around. He didn't care if anyone saw his reaction, if anyone noted just how weird the whole moment was. He wasn't able to make those extra steps to go inside. 
He shouldn't be that happy to see her. That wasn't the kind of reaction someone in control would have. That only showed him the kind of weaknesses the walls around him had, the bits of crumbling stone that he was going to have to solidify before he could boast about all of his self-control. 
This was the reason he never allowed himself to grow attached to anyone. The fact that she was the only person in five years to even bother attempting to penetrate those stone walls should have no bearing on how he conducted himself. He knew better than to let her soft smiles and fluttering bows and gentle conversations get to him. He was the one who knew better in this situation; (Y/N) didn't know what kind of person she was offering those niceties to, and it would be wrong of him to accept and even seek them out. 
She didn't deserve what could happen if he let this loss of control continue. 
Slamming his car door shut behind him with a reverberating rattle of the frame, Harry vowed that whatever had caused that flutter in his stomach and the clench of his heart would stop now. He can't feel that way about anyone or anything. He was taking back control now. 
With his hands tight around the steering wheel and the thought of the bakery wiped from his mind, Harry hoped he never dreamt of bows again. 
—————
Harry pretended as if he couldn't hear the conversation happening at the end of the aisle from him, a couple loudly wondering where they could find the artisanal bread. He didn't want to help them. 
This was why he hated coming in any earlier than the call time for his overnight shifts. Even with the fact he was only covering a couple of extra hours—coming in at six instead of eight—the difference in clientele was too stark for his comfort. It was too early in the night even to justify sticking in his headphones and drowning out the noise of others. 
Instead, he hoped that the slight frown on his features and the furrow in his brows would be enough to warn people away from him as he continued his stocking of the soup and other canned goods he was tasked with for the time being. The outfacing shelf gave him the advantage of leaving his back facing most of the customers that walked through, though he made a point to drift away whenever a patron stalked a little too close to his personal space. 
Despite it all, a part of Harry was grateful for the distraction of work and the extra people around him. That was why he had been picking up hours here and there throughout the week. Anything to keep his brain busy since he had recoiled from the bakery a week ago. 
He'd done a good job in his opinion, of keeping (Y/N) and all of the bows in her hair off of his mind. His resolve was being rebuilt brick by brick, reminders swirling in his brain of why he's never experienced those kinds of butterflies and the anticipation in his heart before. He wasn't the kind of person that needed that kind of feeling—deserved that overflowing of joy in his veins. He kept himself tucked away for a reason, and he needed to remember that. 
His shifts no longer held a current of anticipation, waiting to see if this would be the night she would wander on by, sparing him a smile and a breath of her attention. Her place in his brain had been corralled to a back corner that he was adamant on keeping the barriers to steady and clean. 
That was why when he saw a pair of white sneakers with pink shoelaces threaded through, he pretended as if his brain didn't go to one person immediately. It could be anyone in the world—should be anyone else. He shouldn't be able to recognize her from such a minute detail, but there was already that beat against the ladder of his ribs that told him everything he needed to know about how poorly he had maintained that corral in the back of his mind. 
With a tick in his jaw, Harry reminded himself of his resolve. He kept his focus on his cart, taking more time to dig around while he waited for those shoes to disappear from the corner of his eye. 
Of course, he couldn't be so lucky. 
"Harry?" that soft voice asked him. 
A slow breath was sucked in through his nose as he stood to the full of his height. He turned to find her looking at him with those eyes he could only remember glimpses of from the haze of his dream. Her face was clean from makeup, hair twisted back into a clip as she had forgone a bow for the day. Comfortable clothes adorned her body, slouching and stretching with pastel hues stitched through her top and flowers adorning her leggings. In her hands, nails sparkling with a pearly white polish, she had a solid block of cheese. 
Harry didn't bother to offer a response. (Y/N) was used to it by this point, though. 
"Do you know if this is any good?" she started, emphasizing the cheese with a flick of her wrist, "I googled a recipe for a grilled cheese today, and it wants this kind of cheese, but... I don't know. I just want to make sure I'll like it before I buy it, and all. Have you tried it before?" 
If Harry could draw his eyes away from the dewy planes of her face and the glimmering sheen of her eyes, he might have been able to read the label on the block she had in her hand, but that didn't seem to be an option his body was willing to follow. 
He knew he had been following the line of her nose and pillows of her cupid's bow for a beat too long when she tipped her head, a crease appearing in-between her brows. Clearing his throat, he dropped his gaze from her eyes to fall in the neckline of her top. He schooled his features, keeping himself in line as he brushed the tip of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger. 
Skimming his gaze over the white cheese in her hand, he shrugged some. "Um, probably," he mumbled, voice a rumble.
That glimmer in her eyes flashed to amusement. "You've probably tried it before?" 
Under layers of the stoic front he put up, Harry could feel himself cringe. He knew he wasn't giving her a smart answer, but he didn't anticipate sounding that stupid. 
Again, he shrugged. That was as much of an answer as he could formulate at the moment. 
That same part of him that cringed at the lame answer he gave her, curled in on itself when he saw for the first time, (Y/N) grow crestfallen. She had always been very stubborn in her sunny disposition, only having been taken aback the first time they had met. Other than that, no matter how much of a downer he acted, there seemed to be a smile on her face she didn't mind offering to him, even if he didn't deserve it. 
This time, he watched her brows pinch in the middle, her smile falling some to leave a barely there, lopsided curl that didn't reach her eyes. She dropped her gaze down to the block in her hand. Even her body seemed to shrink under his gaze, drawing her limbs close to her body in a recoil. 
"Well, thanks anyway," she got out, the tone the same chirping pitch as usual, but there was no current. Nothing authentic sat beneath. 
He watched as she lingered for a moment longer, her eyes attached to the label pasted to the cling wrap fitted around the cheese, before she began to head in the other direction. He'd never seen her so dejected before, even if she was only matching the energy he constantly gave her. 
Guilt pooled in his stomach. It wasn't a nice feeling to see a light like her's becoming extinguished, especially from his own hand. 
Before she could trail too far away, he peered over her hand and read over the label attached to her cheese. He recognized the French name from when he would help his mother in the kitchen. He knew this as one of the ingredients she would use for her macaroni and cheese; shredded and added to a pot to melt before being added to the spirals of noodles. He remembered how his main job when he was too young to properly help was to stir the cheese sauce, his eyes following the swirls and strings tracing through the cream. 
Harry wasn't even aware he was taking a step to follow after her until he felt his toe push against the linoleum. "Actually—um," he started, watching as she turned to face him, features lightening, "That's a good cheese. Melts really nice. It'll probably be good for whatever recipe you found." 
Instinctively, he wanted to curl back into his work, give himself a distraction and soothe some of that rattle in his bones. Instead, he forced himself to stay firm in his spot as she made those few short steps back to him. 
(He couldn't help but to feel a bit silly, if he was being honest. All of this over a conversation about cheese. It verged into the territory of ridiculous if he wasn't actually experiencing it). 
"Really? Thank you!" That genuine contentedness he had missed from her voice before was back, lilting and molding her words. "I read that it was good for melting, I just wasn't sure if I should slice it or shred it. The page didn't really tell me much on that." 
Shrugging, Harry pretended to care about the box left on his cart he still needed to sort through and stock. "Shredding is good," he offered, "It melts easier that way, I think." 
(He actually knew that, but he didn't really want to get into the story of the time he had tried to make his comfort meal shortly after he was separated from his mom. He had gone about it all wrong, having sliced it without thinking only to have to go through the too-long process of watching it melt in a puddle of milk. He would have attempted it again after that, but money was especially tight right after he left home and the ingredients for a single meal were too expensive. Besides, it would never taste as good as the one his mother made, and he didn't need to break his heart any more with the attempts).
Decidedly, (Y/N) dropped the block in her sparse basket. "I'll try that tonight and I'll let you know," she told him, the stray tangles of her hair swaying as she spoke, "Thank you, Harry." 
Harry nodded his head, reaching into the cardboard box piled with different soups. "Yeah." 
It was hard to breathe when she heard him say his name with that smile on her face. 
But, (Y/N) didn't leave right away. She lingered for a moment, a step between leaving him behind and staying right there with him. He couldn't decide which outcome he was hoping for. 
A beat later, she swung back to face him. "Have you ever been by the bakery a few blocks over on Windsor Ave?" 
He swallowed. The vision of The Flour Pot immediately came to mind. 
"No, I don't think so." 
(Y/N) looked at him with a smile with shy edges, rocking on the balls of her feet. "Well, we have these cheesy breakfast soufflés that we only make on Friday mornings, that are really good. I bet you'd really like them if you like cheese and stuff." There was a slight wince and a huff of a laugh falling from her lips as (Y/N) finished. 
She must also realize how silly they both sounded, too. Breakfast and cheese, the great unifiers, Harry supposed. 
With the faint amusement bubbling in the back off his mind, Harry still felt something in him catch. Her recommendation felt something like an invitation. An invitation to go somewhere she would assumedly be. 
Harry checked his expectations as he dropped his gaze to his hands, rolling a can of loaded potato soup so the barcode faced him. "I usually work all night Thursdays, so Friday mornings can be a little hard to make when 'm tired." 
That nervous rocking continued even with the bright smile molding (Y/N)'s features. "I work there, so you can let me know when you have time to stop by and I can make sure we have an extra one for you," she told him, hands bundling together at her middle, "Or, just pop by whenever. Everything we have is really good, so." 
Around him, Harry could still hear the annoying couple from before complaining about the layout of the grocery store. The overhead lights were mismatched on this section of the store, leaving some amber spots to combat against the stark fluorescents. There was a buzzing to the left where the refrigerators were keeping the cheese section where she had shopped from cool. But all of his attention was placed a few paces before him. 
Harry spent years pushing people away. Not once had anyone ever been able to wiggle through even one layer of the protective walls he had around him. He made a point of that; it was the way it was supposed to be for everyone's safety. He didn't invite anyone into his life, and no one invited him into theirs. 
Of course the first person to do so would be someone like (Y/N). She would be the one to dare to cross that line, offer a hand out to someone so adamant about not wanting anything of the sort. He knew those butterflies in his stomach were a warning; they were creatures to be heeded, not cradled. 
Despite it all, Harry nodded. He looked at her, leaving his idling hands to play around without him. "I'll see what I can do." 
It was the smile that bloomed across her lips that had Harry remembering that there were flowers that were meant to unfurl in the night. 
"Cool," she said, something giddy replacing that authenticity, "Have a nice night, Harry."
"Have a nice night," he got out before he turned on his heel, pinning his attention straight on the box awaiting him. It was an abrupt ending to the conversation, but he couldn't look at her any longer if he wanted to keep some of his head. She was driving him mad again already. 
When Harry looked up, he found her turning the corner of the aisle. Their eyes matched for a moment when she looked back at him too, a ghost of a smile stretching her cheeks before she was gone. 
Taking in a deep breath, he centered himself. 
Harry can not go to that bakery. 
——————
As much as Harry loved his comfort reads, the volumes that became like classics to him, he couldn't read them all the time. Besides, he liked libraries. 
While every building was different, the librarians with their own rules and nuances that ran the shelves, the spirit was always the same. Even the smallest of towns he travelled to had their own shelves to peruse. The crackle of the covered spines, some old enough to still be sporting checkout cards in the front cover, with pages loved by others, made him feel less alone. The library in this town was no different. 
A quiet librarian manned the front desk or puttered through the shelves, offering Harry a quiet kindness he appreciated more than if she had given attempts to get to know him any more outside of the process of getting his library card. All she wanted to know was what kind of genres he liked so she could recommend books when he came in the more regular he became. He was left to ghost through the shelves, fostering books as he went before returning them home once their time was up. He was able to be comfortable there. 
But, this town had to be mocking him at this point. 
While he's been making a point to keep his head down and focusing on only himself and definitely not (Y/N), old habits die hard. A hefty portion of his life was spent with his eyes sharpened, taking in every detail and every person and every place around him. Even with years away from the circumstances that had him looking over his shoulder with every step he made, he couldn't shake every habit. But those habits made it way too hard to ignore what was going on just down the street from the library. 
The Flour Pot was busy as usual when he stepped out of his car, library books held at his side with his fingers flexing around the plastic covering. A line was trailing out the door with as many people walking out with the brown paper bags or cake boxes as patrons were walking in with hunger in their eyes. Harry could almost hear the bell chiming above the door every time it opened, just like he swore if he listened close enough, he could hear a familiar laugh. 
It took effort for him to keep his eyes ahead of himself, fingers tight around his books. He didn't allow himself to linger on the sidewalk or his gaze to stray, heading directly into the library. 
Harry could feel his features twisted into frustration even as he stepped in the substantially quieter building. But even with his furrowed brow and the tight line of his mouth, Ms. Klarke didn't bat an eye. She had to be used to it at this point. 
A lined smile had her lips stretched, showing off white teeth. "Done with this week's, Mr. Styles?" 
He only nodded with a hum as he approached the desk, dropping the trio of volumes on the glossy wood. It was instinct the way he worked, pulling out his green library card. 
Ms. Klarke worked with familiarity, scanning the code on his card before clicking through his profile. Her eyes didn't move from the computer screen as she spoke, "We got some new books in yesterday. I saved a few that I thought you'd like in the back." 
Perking up at the prospect of the new arrivals, Harry felt his features smoothen out, a light falling into the usual rumble of his voice. "Really?" 
She looked at him from the corner of her eye, a short smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she slid his card back. "Mhm. I'll be right back." 
Taking his returns with her, she stepped into the backroom positioned just behind the front desk only to come back a moment later with another set of books. The volumes were freshly wrapped in the crinkling plastic, the covers still vibrant underneath without any smudging or scratching marring the art. 
"I've heard good things about these," Ms. Klarke said, spreading out the trio on the wood for him to look at. "The descriptions sound like something you would like." 
They were romances—the genre he had divulged to Ms. Klarke all that time ago. He recognized the covers and the authors, having read his own reviews and takes on the literature. Bright colors were splashed across, with the hallmarks of the genre coming in depictions of flowers or the minimalistic art that was becoming the norm. A twitch itched the corner of his lips seeing the pages she saved for him to have first. 
"Thank you," he told her, looking at her through the lashes as he kept his hands at his sides, "I've seen a lot about these, too." 
Ms. Klarke's lined features brightened at his words. "Gonna take them home with you this week?" 
"Yes, please," he answered in a rush, "If that's alright." 
Her brows pinched in the middle, already grabbing the books to scan them onto his profile for the week. "Of course it's alright. I saved them for you for a reason." 
Harry was struck then. He stood, listening to the sounds of her hands clicking the keys on her computer and the beep of the scanner reading the barcodes, his hands shoved deep in his pockets with his fingers clenched in tight curls. 
While Ms. Klarke didn't know really anything about him, she still had him in mind when she read these titles and made a point to save them off for him. She only knew him as far as the kind of literature he liked to spend his time with and the kind of care he treated each book with, but she knew him enough to trust him with these new reads. 
She knew him enough. 
He forgot what it felt like to be known. He missed the feeling of being known. Even if it was his fault that he was pushed into that forgotten corner in the first place. His impact wasn't supposed to be felt, even if he still felt the absence of the familiarity he had in a past life. 
Two people now, in this town, had given Harry more than a passing thought. 
The feeling was overwhelming. 
"Thank you," he repeated when Ms. Klarke passed back his books for the week, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 
With his books in hand, he exited out onto the sidewalk. Down the block he could still hear the faint commotion from the bakery, but his stomach didn't sour like it had only ten minutes prior. In that kitschy shop was the one other person who was trying to know him, even when he insisted on being alone. 
The thought of walking in didn't sound so bad, even if he still kept on his path to his car. 
—————
Harry had a plan. 
Days after visiting the library, he had been tucked away in bed reading one of his new books when he couldn't get his mind off of (Y/N). The main female character was a baker with a softened heart, a bubbly demeanor shining through. Given the nature of the book, every peek into her heart was romanticized, especially in the first handful of chapters he was still working through. He couldn't help but to picture (Y/N) the more he read, disregarding whatever physical description the character was given. 
She hadn't left his mind since. 
Maybe it was the fact there was a scene written where the lead male character visited the pseudo-(Y/N) at the patisserie she worked at, but there was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that it might not be such a bad thing to take up her invitation from the week prior. While he was nothing like male lead—not in demeanor nor backstory—, he couldn't ignore the want he had for a moment like the one inked across the page. 
It felt entirely reckless to give into that want, the kind of idea that would come to him after too many hours spent awake and too many romance cliches floating through his thoughts, but he'd done worse. Indulging in the pattering butterflies and bruising beats of his heart would land at the bottom of the list of the most dastardly things he'd ever done.
Besides, if this Sunday morning was anything like the last, it wasn't like there would even be enough time for his defenses to weaken enough for an impact to be made. If anything, he would see her in passing, the flutter of the bow in her hair as she bustled through the shop, and that would be it. Maybe a smile in his direction, but he couldn't imagine any more being spared for him. 
He didn't need anything more than that, anyway. 
Harry would be careful. Butterflies weren't strong enough to break stone.
—————
His hands were clenched into fists in the pockets of his coat, the sign to The Flour Pot gleaming on the glass window from the corner of his eye. Though he knew well that there were just enough patrons inside to create a hustle within the shop, Harry kept his resolve strong as he stepped over the pavement. He didn't skip sleep for the last handful of hours since his shift ended just to run home without even taking a single step inside. 
Slipping inside, Harry forced his gaze to lift from his feet, a deep breath filling his lungs. Those small tables he had spotted from the windows were twisted wrought iron, the backs outlined with intricate shapes of flowers, hummingbirds, and shining suns. Cushions padded the seats of the chairs, a charming combination of mismatched patterns that all seemed to work together to make the space that much cozier. Customers Harry could recognize as some of the people he saw at the grocery store were littered about, though they looked decidedly much cheerier in this environment. Even with the chill in the air, hints of spring lingered within the confines of the shop. 
Butter and sugar kissed the air, twining with notes of lingering herbs and spices, different ingredients that made up the confections filling the display case up front. Tiny lights were embedded in the trim, shining right on the flaky crusts of croissants, glimmering glazes on sticky buns, and the golden skin of homemade baguettes. More intricate cakes and laborious treats were held in glass cabinets behind the desk. Warm wood made up the front cash register area, the grains twisting and curving in the way only real wood could. Hanging from the ceiling behind the desk was the menu with every treat laid out and priced, twirling descriptions following just underneath with every add-on available. A note on the bottom recommended talking to the bakers about seasonal specials and their favorite combinations. 
Everything looked new but second-hand at the same time. Harry didn't know what to compare the space to other than a home opened up for visitors. The treats in the case were just a bonus of being invited into such a home. 
The flapping of the cafe doors leading to the back caught his attention, pulling his gaze from tracing over the space that felt as if it lived within candlelight. (Y/N) emerged from what he assumed to be the kitchen, a pan in hand full of something golden brown and filled with herbs. She dropped that pan onto the back counter before disappearing again, a pearly gold bow pulling her hair back. Her uniform consisted of a long sleeved brown top with The Flour Pot printed in yellow lettering as if the words were dripping in honey. He felt like a moth the way his eyes followed each of her moves, her being the flame he didn't want to lose track of. 
That smile he pretended to not care about had her lips stretched with smile lines bracketing the curl. He watched on as she spoke to the dark-haired girl and the shorter boy working behind the counter, nodding her head with the tendrils of her bow going flying before she seemed to count out certain items in the case all before leaving to the back once more. In her hands, another pan reemerged with her.
As his eyes followed her, he was grateful for the first time for the amount of patrons occupying the building. The line in front of him gave him enough time to watch her—to get his fill to quell the battering ram made of butterflies in his stomach. Even if he wanted to keep his eyes to himself, drop them to his feet or find a blank spot to fix his eyes too, he didn't think he had it in himself. 
With the line moving, Harry shuffled forward a pair of spots. At that same moment, the cafe doors swung open once more, (Y/N)'s arms empty as her eyes scanned across the guests in her shop. She found Harry in an instant, her eyes brightening and smile blooming. She brought her gloved hand up to wiggle her fingers in a quick wave for only him. 
Before he could even lift his hand to wave back, she had sidestepped behind the desk and whispered something to the dark haired woman working the register. A quick conversation played out while Harry watched, (Y/N) whispering while the other woman gave small reactions. The conversation lasted only a couple of beats with the line still waiting before them, (Y/N) disappearing into the back after shooting Harry a look with bright eyes and a wide smile. 
In (Y/N)'s wake, the cashier gave Harry her own look. It was something quiet and knowing, a short curl only on the corner of her lips before she slid her gaze back to the patron waiting in front of her. 
(Y/N) and her bow didn't return again as the line slowly moved forward. Only the dark haired cashier and a shorter boy were working the counter, working as a team with the boy picking the pastries with gloved hands and the woman taking orders and collecting payments. The line dwindled as they worked, guests leaving with small paper bags and smiles wider than the giant muffins that took over the bottom shelf of the case. 
While Harry felt like he could breathe better with every person that exited, it all moved too fast. By the time he reached the counter, Harry's brain was filled with nothing more than a buzz. In all his distractions of watching (Y/N) and being a little too aware of the others around him, not once did he really examine the menu. He didn't have a plan of what he wanted to order, every quick glance at the menu hanging above was more panicked than the last, nothing being absorbed. 
The last patron in front of him worked quickly. The chatter of her voice was almost drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears, her order being rattled off in an instant out of practice before she was stepping off to the side to await her own brown bag of treats. 
Stepping forward to the counter, Harry couldn't help but feel a little silly. The amount of high stress situations he's been in in his life, the kind that warranted the kind of panic and fight-or-flight reaction he could feel himself building to was more than any person should ever go through. But in all of those moments, he remembered moving through them like an expert, not thinking before doing. 
This—ordering from a bakery—was going to be the one thing that broke his brain, it seemed. Figures. 
The dark-haired girl behind the counter held that same guest service smile on her face when Harry approached, only the ends curled that much more when she saw it was him. "Good morning! What can I get you today?" 
Harry's mouth dropped open, words intending to come out before nothing actually did. He barely recovered in the way he instead said, "Ummm." 
From the corner of his eye, the cafe doors to the kitchen swung open. A pan full of stacked baguettes were in (Y/N)'s arms, eyes trained on the pyramid before she chanced a glance up. That same wide grin pulled at her lips the second recognition filled her eyes. 
"Hi, Harry!" she chirped out over her shoulder as she deposited the pan onto the back counter, "How are you?" 
His dry throat finally began to work again when he swallowed, his nervous hands beginning to pluck at his cuticles in the pocket of his hoodie. "'M good, thank you," he mumbled, "You?" 
"I'm doing good, thanks!" She spun on her heel to take over the spot by the register. For a second, he saw the dark-haired girl bump (Y/N)'s hip with her own, before taking over the second station just to the left and tending to the line from there. It was a move that had to have come with a plan. "I wish I knew you were coming in today, I would have made you one of those soufflés I was telling you about." 
"Oh, sorry," he told her, shuffling on his feet as the rest of the line behind him meandered around him to the available register. 
The tail of hair she had pinned back with her bow bounced as she shook her head. "No worries at all! What did you come in for?" 
For the first time since she stepped out, he pulled his eyes from hers to the sign above her head.
Maybe it was the noise around him, the chatter of other guests, the way he was hyperaware of every inch of space around him and how close others were getting to him before hiking left to the other register, or the fact he knew (Y/N) had her eyes on him, but the letters didn't make any sense when he tried to take them in. He knew the words, could associate them with different treats, but there was nothing that connected his thoughts. 
Silence fell from his floundering mouth, the kind that felt too loud in a busy place like this. 
In a second, (Y/N) sidestepped to the case at her right, her eyes bright and still on Harry as she nudged the sliding door to open for her. "My favorite at the moment are the raspberry and almond scones," she bubbled off, using her gloved hand to grab the pastry from the tray, "I just finished a batch, too. They also come with this lemon cream kind of glaze, if you wanted to try it that way." 
Her energy didn't deplete as she spoke, showcasing the scone for him to see. She saved him from the way his throat was beginning to tighten the longer it took for him to come up with an answer. 
Chunks of raspberries were visible in the pale base of the scone, sprinkled with almond slivers. It reminded him of the cookies she so favored at his own place of work. 
"I'll try that," he told her, the even pacing of his breathing returning, "Thank you." 
"Perfect!" she chirped, looking genuinely pleased at his response. Nothing inauthentic touched at her features as she gazed at him. "Do you want the glaze and everything?" 
"Um, sure," he said, a nod of his head throwing a curl over his forehead. 
He saw as (Y/N)'s gaze tripped upwards, trailing along the length of that stray hair brushing the bridge of his nose. A glittering sparkled in her irises. 
The rest of the transaction went quickly, (Y/N) shedding her gloves and taking his cash as she asked about his work. Noncommittal answers were shared from Harry (he barely remembered the shift if he was being honest. His brain had been too fixed on this morning's plan). 
"I'll have that ready for you in a second," she told him, toothy smile and all, "You can wait over there in the meantime." 
A mumbled, kay... fell from his lips as he exhaled a deep breath. He nodded his head before he followed her direction and stepped off to the side. He half expected her to continue helping the line that had dwindled behind him, instead watching as she stepped off the side with his treats in hand. 
Dropping his gaze from her, Harry pulled his hands out of his hoodie to inspect the sore cuticles he could feel beginning to sting with every touch. Spots of blood had spread to the plate of his nails, skin frayed and irritated at all the picking. 
Harry expected to hear his name called when his bag was placed on the pick-up counter just as it had been for every other patron, only to have (Y/N) bounce around the entire case when she had finished puttering behind. The tendrils of her bow flowed behind her, skimming the length of her hair before she stopped in front of him.
For someone who didn't like mornings that much, she smiled a lot. 
"Here you go," she beamed at him, offering him the small paper bag with the business's logo inked on the front. Beside the picture was his own name written in looping script, a smiling heart printed beside it. "You have to tell me what you think the next time I see you, okay? These really are my favorites, so if you don't like them I don't know if we'll be able to be friends anymore." 
A breath of air caught in Harry's throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow it down. Anymore, she had said.
"Got it," he forced out, taking the bag from her hand with their fingers barely brushing as he slipped his own under the handles, "Thank you, (Y/N)." 
At the sound of his voice wrapped around her name, her smile only widened. "Of course. I'll see you around, Harry." 
Before he could get too far ahead of himself, the indulgent butterflies in his stomach urging him to linger longer than he knew would be good for him, Harry spun on his heel and moved to the exit. He swore he could feel (Y/N)'s eyes on him up until he disappeared through the doors. 
There wasn't a thought in his head other than getting back to the safety of his car as he rushed over the pavement, loose rocks in the old concrete kicking up in his wake. The slam of his car door behind him left the cab going still. The air was silent finally, leaving him sealed away with the ticking of his heart evening out. 
Instinctively he locked his doors before reaching for his seatbelt. In that split second he seemed to forget the bag in his hand until he felt the warmth of the pastry in his lap. 
He hesitated. 
It would probably be best to eat it now while it was still warm, he decided. 
In his parked car across from the rush of The Flour Pot, Harry carefully extracted his treat. His fingers brushed a slip of paper clinging to the side of the bag, the end trapped under the cup containing the lemon cream she boasted to him about. Laying the boxed treat on the center console, Harry plucked out the slip of paper. 
It was a length of blank receipt paper, only to turn the page around and find that same looping writing that printed his name on the bag. 
Come by next Sunday and I'll have a souffle for you :) 
(Y/N)'s name was signed at the bottom, another smiling heart drawn beside the final letter. Another invitation.
Harry didn't need to take a bite of the scone to know that it was going to be his favorite too.
—————
Maybe he had been too giddy to see her again after those moments at the bakery, but Harry couldn't help but notice her the second (Y/N) walked through the glass doors. 
It was as if he had it all planned the way he had been stationed in the herb and spices section of the store tonight, an aisle that was conveniently situated by the entrance. He had a bundle of basil in his grip when he saw her walk in, a clip dripping with crystal flowers holding her hair back with a The Flour Pot crewneck on. Fatigue coated her movements as she reached for one of the maroon baskets stacked by the door, the handles tucked into her elbow before she started towards whatever aisle she was shooting for. 
There was a moment of her slowing on the front mat, eyes scanning through the shelves until she saw him, cart and all, and her expression changed. Her features softened and rounded, creases appearing by her eyes while her lips stretched into a smile. Her lips were soft and chapped, hair a bit messy, and sleeves dulled by a dusting of what had to be flour, but Harry still felt that knot in his stomach he did the first time he saw her all those months ago. Even more so, when his heart got carried away thinking that she may have been looking for him, too. 
Harry dropped his gaze when he saw her begin her way over to him. He didn't want to look too eager to speak to her again, especially not when he couldn't even admit to himself that he was looking forward to see her. 
"Hi, stranger," she greeted, voice lilting as the toes of her white shoes came into view of his downturned gaze. 
Swallowing around his dry throat, he slowed his work and looked up at her again, features schooled into something stoic. "Hi." 
Ever-pleasant and unperturbed by his attitude, she only looked to him with raised brows and expectant eyes. "So?" 
A pinch drew Harry's brows together as he looked at her. So what? 
When the beat of silence lasted too long for her liking, a teasing huff fell from (Y/N)'s lips. "What did you think of the scone?! You promised you'd tell me about it, remember?" 
For the first time in a long time, Harry could feel one corner of his lips twitch, the beginning of a titled smile. He thought of the length of receipt paper he still had folded away in his wallet. 
"It was really good," he started, shifting his weight on his feet, "The—uh—the lemon cream was really nice. Thank you." 
The look on her face at his compliments could rival that of the waning sunshine outside the windows. She was bright and shining, warm like the sunset colored sky. 
"I'm so happy you liked it!" she beamed, her shopping put to the back of her mind as she gave every bit of attention to him, "There's this recipe for a lavender version of the scone I've been wanting to try, but every time I tell the other girls they don't look as excited. They said it sounds like I'm trying to make soap." 
Harry didn't even realize what he was saying before the words were falling from his lips: "I'd try it." 
As much as he wouldn't—couldn't—say it out loud, he's sure he'd try anything she made. He wasn't lying about the raspberry scone.
Something sheepish touched at the corners of her smile as she dipped her gaze down to where he was now fumbling with a shaker of dried oregano on his cart. "Okay," she started, nodding her head, "I'll make some, and next time I see you, you can try them." 
His throat bobbed as he swallowed around the dryness coating his tongue. "Thank you." 
Under her attention, gaze peering through the fan of her lashes, those butterflies in his stomach and the beating of his heart traveled down to his palms, making them restless and the skin go clammy. 
All of this over another invitation.
—————
rosemary represents remembrance; looking back on the past with the future right in front of you
ahhhhh!!! hes finally here!!! im so excited to be sharing this story w you guys and letting you meet one of my kings thats sooooo in my heart!! def a little different of a story for me so I really hope you enjoy it!!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas or requests or just thoughts about this story !
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