#pypfc

[stylesloveclub]

Roses and Vanilla

In which y/n and Harry aren’t really close until y/n falls in the shower, and Harry falls in love. (9.7k words)

Harry wasn’t really doing anything when it happened. He had just been sitting in his room, trying to figure out what to do with his day. 

It was still fairly early in the morning, but, since Harry was an early riser, he had already gone to the gym, showered, and made himself some pancakes. On any other day, Harry would have gone to class or done some homework -- but considering it was a Saturday, Harry had no classes for the rest of the day, and the only homework he had over the weekend was a literary analysis for his Literature class that he had already finished (He had a four hour gap on Fridays between his International Political Economy and European History classes that he usually utilized to knock out a majority of his weekend assignments). Plus, he didn’t really feel like leaving the house anyway. The forecast said there was a 40% chance of rain, and who wants to go outside when the weather is bleak and dreary?

So he’s just sitting in his room, lying on his bed, and fiddling with his guitar… until he hears a thud.

A thud that really resembles the sound of someone falling. In the shower. Followed by a pained cry of his name.

“Harry!”

As soon as he hears his name Harry’s out of his room, throwing his guitar onto his bed, and running to where the sound came from. His roommate, y/n, had gotten into the shower about 10 minutes ago, so it’s most logically her calling out his name. 

He’s kind of freaking out because 1) Based on what Harry knows about y/n, she’s very calm, organized, and independent and 2) He and y/n rarely talk to each other -- so the fact that she's calling out to him, with so much panic in her voice, must mean something has really gone wrong.

He knocks on the door with more force than usual -- partly because the water’s still running and he doesn’t know if y/n can hear him, but mostly because he’s got so much adrenaline running through his veins. His mind is racing and his heart is pounding, and he can’t help but remember that the last time he felt this much concern for someone was when his older sister had fallen off a table at a family reunion.

“Y/n? Are y’alright?” he asks, voice failing to mask his trepidation.

“Please help me.”

It’s difficult for him to hear her response over the sound of running water, but he can clearly make out the pain and desperation in her voice. Millions of scenarios are running through his head, and he has no idea what to expect, surges of anxiety rushing through his body. Without a second thought, he’s pushing against the door, breaking his way in. 

He rushes to the flower-printed shower curtain, hurriedly asking again, “Y/n, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I f-fell,” she sniffles, “and I really hurt m-my ankle Harry.”

The pitch of her voice and her uneven, wavering breaths tell Harry that she’s perilously holding back her sobs. As panicked and worried he himself is, he realizes that y/n’s position is much worse, and that his entire focus should be on soothing y/n. “Can you stand up?”

“No, it hurts too much,” she answers, followed by an aching plea, “Harry, please help me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and apprehensive when he asks, “Is it okay if I open the shower curtain?” 

Just as quietly, y/n gives him the okay. 

Harry pulls the shower curtain aside and finds y/n sitting on the tub floor, leaning forward so that she can cradle her concerningly red ankle. Her position is fetal and vulnerable, yet she managed to shield herself from wandering eyes so that all Harry could see was the expanse of her back and her crossed legs -- plus her face if she hadn’t been crying towards the floor. There's still water streaming onto her head, getting into her eyes and mixing in with her tears, so he turns off the showerhead and kneels by the edge of the tub so he can look at her, face-to-face. 

Although her eyes are glossed over and filled with pain, she isn’t crying loudly. Silent tears fall down her face, clumping her wet eyelashes together and rolling down her cheeks onto her lips -- her red-bitten lips that she’s been continuously chewing on since she let out her first cry. She’s taking deep, shuddering inhales from the overwhelming amount of pain she’s in, and releasing them in choking exhales in an effort to contain her cries.

Harry leans forward and pushes her hair to the back of her head with his palms, moving the messy strands out of her eyes to see her clearly. He cradles her face and swipes his thumbs underneath her eyes to wipe away her tears and she leans into his hold, finally feeling a little bit more comforted and at ease. 

She had been so panicked and worried when she first fell that the mere thought of it made her choke up again. She hadn’t taken her phone into the bathroom and wasn’t sure if Harry would be able to hear her calling out to him, and when the sharp pains in her ankle had begun to intensify, she had panicked. Her mind had been sent into a frenzy of worrisome thoughts, wondering if anyone would ever come save her or if she had truly rendered her foot useless, making her hopelessly distressed. 

Harry is quick to comfort her as soon as he hears her whimpers, cooing, “Oh darling, shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you now.” He stands up for just a second to grab her towel off the rack and sits back down next to the tub -- wrapping the towel around her body, tucking the edge of it under her armpit, and lifting her out of the tub and into his lap. Settling her on his thighs, he drapes one arm around her back and uses the other to support her sore ankle, preventing it from moving around or hitting anything. 

Immediately after being taken into Harry’s arms, y/n breaks down. She grasps his shirt and nestles into his chest, allowing sobs to take over her body. She’s gasping through her agonizing cries and fisting Harry’s collar more and more tightly as she recalls the extreme distress she felt when she first found herself helpless on the floor. Harry can feel her body shaking with every cry she heaves out, shivering with every weak inhale. His heart breaks for the poor girl who was in so much pain, and wants nothing more but to make it all better. Take all the pain away from her and shower her in lovely thoughts and sweet kisses. He rubs his fingers up and down her spine, coaxing her to let it all out, and whispering small words of empathy. Her ear is pressed up to his chest, right up next to his heart so she can hear it steadily beating. She focuses on the gentle thumping to assuage her racing mind and matches his breathing to calm her own, reducing her weeps into smaller gasps and mewls.

As she begins to calm down, Harry moves away a small bit to observe her. Her lips are still trembling and are perfectly pouty and swollen, and the tip of her nose has tinged pink, wrinkling upwards with each of her small sniffles. His button up is stained with her tears, but he’s more concerned with the fact that there are still tears brimming at her waterline. He noses at the side of her head and fits his lips at the shell of her ear to lowly query, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Peeking out from her resting position on his chest, she weakly whimpers, “I-I dunno really. I was washing the conditioner out of my hair and then somehow m-my foot slipped, and then it twisted underneath me and it hit the side of the tub.” She lets out another shaky exhale, “Harry, it really hurts.”

He lets her tuck her face back into his neck as he tells her, “Darling, it looks kind of bad. I think we need to call an ambulance or summat.”

“No!” she exclaims, “absolutely not! Do you know how expensive those damn ambulances are? I can’t afford to have an ambulance called on my behalf!” 

“Well we need to get you to a hospital, love, or else s’just gonna get worse.”

She thinks for a second, then pouts up at him, “could you take me there please?” 

Out of the two of them, Harry’s the one who has a car, and despite the fact that they go to the same university, she’s never gotten a ride from him. She usually just gets around by walking or taking the bus. 

Harry looks into her tearful eyes and knows that there’s no way in hell he could say no to her. So he gets off the bathroom floor with y/n in his arms, and walks them over to her room.

“Alright, let’s get you some clothes and then I can drive us to the doctors. Is it alright if I go into your room?”

Y/n just nods from her cradled position in his arms.

He pushes the door open with his back and sits y/n on her bed, asking her where he can find her some clothes.

“Underwear is in the top drawer, sweatpants are in the bottom drawer, and my sweaters are hung up in the closet.”

He contains the 12 year old boy in himself as he grabs her the first bra and panties he sees, only slightly ogling the lacy undergarments, then grabs the first pair of folded sweatpants from the bottom drawer. Going into her closet, he goes to her sweaters (all neatly hung up on the left) and picks out the softest looking one. 

“Isn’t this mine?” he questions, turning around.

She’s not looking at him, opting to lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling, sniffling, “Probably. Our clothes get mixed up a lot and you have comfy sweaters.”

He sets the pile of clothes next to her on the bed (definitely not eyeing the tops of her thighs where the towel has ridden up) and heads out of the room to grab an ice pack for her ankle while she changes. 

She’s able to put the sweater on and manages to get the panties right above her knees until she can’t shuffle them underneath her thighs anymore. When Harry knocks on the door, she gives him permission to enter, saying, “Harry, I need your help.”

He’s a teensy bit shocked when he sees her panties only up her thighs as he walks in, but he keeps his cool. “Er- yeah, what’s up?”

“Can you help me stand up please?”

He puts the ice-pack on the bed and wraps his hands around her upper body, circling his fingers around her ribs to hoist her up. Accidentally, his fingers slip up a bit too high and he pinches at her breasts, fingers grazing at the swell of her chest. He pulls away quickly, yelping, “Woah! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! I-I thought I brought you a bra...”

“You did,” she quips with pursed lips, “I just didn’t put it on. I’m already in enough pain, I don’t need a bra on top of that.”

So, again, he wraps his hands around her body, thumbs pressing into the plushy underside of her breasts, and hoists her up so that she can balance herself on the leg that isn’t injured, shuffling her underwear around her hips. They repeat the process so y/n can put on her sweatpants, and once she’s fully dressed Harry runs into his room, grabbing his keys, wallet and phone, shoving them into his pocket, and swooping y/n back into his arms.

“Anythin’ you need before we go?” he asks her, bending down so that she can grab the ice pack from her bed.

She politely tells him she only needs her phone and guides him to its position on her dresser before Harry carries her out of their apartment, locking the door behind himself.

Y/n snuggles into Harry’s tight hold as he walks them down the parking garage, and is reluctant to hop out of his embrace when they reach his car. He was providing her with so much aide and comfort and she was feeling so thankful for him. Despite the fact that this was the most time they had ever voluntarily spent together, he was being the most supportive and loving person ever.

As Harry slides her into the passenger's seat, she softly voices her thanks.

His jade eyes flicker to hers when he hears her voice, frail and weak from all her crying, and he assures her, “It’s no problem, darling,” while buckling her up. “Now let's get you to the doctors.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

So it turns out that y/n had fractured her ankle, resulting in a wonky cast around her leg and firm orders from the doctor to avoid walking on it at all costs.

This makes her a bit more dependent on Harry than she was normally used to. 

You see, y/n and Harry hadn’t even known each other when they started living together. Y/n had initially moved into her apartment with her childhood friend, Katie, but after Katie dropped out of college and moved back home (something y/n had also considered doing during many of her 1 am procrastination sessions), y/n needed to find a roommate -- preferably within the span of that same month so that she wouldn’t be forced to pay rent on her own. She spread the word to everyone she knew until finally, three weeks into her hunt, the nice boy who sat next to her in her Aristotelian Philosophy class  -- named Niall if she remembered correctly -- told her that one of his best mates, Harry, was in desperate need of a flat to move into (His old apartment complex had caught on fire after the elderly woman on the top floor accidentally left a candle on, so he was forced to permanently abandon his previous place of residence).

Within three days of contacting Harry, he was moving his things into Katie’s old room.

At the very beginning of their roommate-ship, the pair made a mutual agreement to keep their private lives separate. It wasn’t anything hostile that kept them separated from each other! It was simply the fact that they were both keen on maintaining their personal space -- plus, they were in two totally different majors and didn’t hang out in any of the same social groups. The only time they really ever saw each other was in the mornings or at night, with the occasional run-in in the kitchen when they were both grabbing something to eat. 

That had been their system for the past four months. Now, however, things were entirely different. 

Within the three days since the accident, y/n and Harry had spent more time with each other than ever before. With y/n depending on Harry to help her move from room to room, and him being so willing to cater to her needs, it was inevitable for them to eventually start talking and getting to know each other. Albeit, it was still fairly awkward small talk... but still. They were talking with each other, learning more about their counterpart, and discovering new small details about the other. Instead of making food for themselves and eating it alone, Harry was now offering to cook her dinner and eat it with her on the couch while discussing different shows and music they liked. Or rather than isolating themselves in their respectful rooms and doing homework by themselves, they now did it together in a shared space -- like today. 

Right now, they’re both in the living room, quietly sitting in each other’s presence and completing their work. Y/n’s on the couch, wrapped up in one of those fuzzy blankets and closing a textbook she had just finished reading an excerpt of. Harry is at the dining room table -- typing away on his laptop doing whatever Political Science majors tend to do -- when y/n asks “Can you grab me my laptop, please?”

He’s up in a second, responding, “Yep. S’it in your room?”

“It is, thank you.”

Harry doesn’t mind helping y/n out -- he personally knows the difficulties of having an injury (He broke his wrist once after falling out a tree. Long story.), and wishes someone had taken care of him the same way he was taking care of y/n. Plus.. he thinks doting on someone and tending to their needs is endearing in a way. He wants to have someone to take care of, to feed, to coddle, and loves the way she’s so dependent on him. It’s the weird, protective nature in himself that makes him this way.

Handing her the laptop he retrieved, y/n thanks him again, making Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Y’already thanked me once,” he says, eying her with a teasing grin.

“Well I guess I’m awfully thankful for you then! I’ve got you holed up in here, stuck with me -- all because I couldn’t stand on my own two feet in the shower! And I keep making you do things for me, I need to lay off for a bit. I’m sorry.”

Again he laughs at her, shaking his head, “Darling, I’ve told you already that I don’t mind. I needed to do my work anyway, I’m just doing it here instead of my room.” 

She almost thanks him for that as well, but catches herself just before she says it, turning to her laptop screen instead.

“Did you finish that literary analysis for Rockerfell’s class?” Harry asks her.

“Oh, er- no I haven’t finished it yet,” she answers. “How’d you know about that?”

“We’re in the same class, silly.”

“What?” She didn’t know about this. “How? I thought we’re in different majors.”

“We are,” Harry responds, “I’m in political science, but I took Rockerfell’s lit class as an elective.” 

“Oh wow! I didn’t… I didn’t know we were in the same class. Have you finished it?”

“Mhm,” he says with a proud smirk (he prides himself in being part of the small population that doesn’t procrastinate), “finished it yesterday.”

Y/n frowns at the thought of her unfinished classwork, really not in the mood to think about school. “I’ve got the conclusion left, but I’m shit at conclusions,” she huffs. “How many ways can I rewrite my thesis without saying the same thing over and over again?”

“Do you want some help?” Harry offers. “I could read over it if you’d like.”

“Oh would you? That would be so helpful, thank you!”

He sits next to her on the couch as she passes him her laptop, and begins reading. “Wow… I love what you did with transcendentalism and the whole ‘lack of spiritual connection with the physical world,’” he tells her. “This is golden.”

Y/n blushes from his compliment, and finds herself bashfully observing him. His left hand is unconsciously picking and prodding at his bottom lip while his eyes scan the screen, flickering back and forth. She’s startled when his eyes flash up to her, worried that he might have found her staring strange, but he says nothing of it and simply asks, “Is it okay if I type something out?” She nods her consent. 

“There were a couple of little grammatical issues here and there that I cleared up, and I typed up a little outline for your concluding statement if you want to use it. Other than that it was magnificent. You really know your shit, don’t you?”

Her cheeks flush once more as she grabs her laptop from him, timidly speaking, “I like the subject, I guess. It’s really interesting.”

He lets out a hum of acknowledgment and watches as she quickly types out a conclusion. Biting at her nails, she mutters underneath her breath, “This is good enough. I doubt Rockerfell even reads our conclusions,” then abruptly turns her head to him. “Is it time for dinner yet? I’m hungry. We can get some take out if you’d like.”

Her change in character is fascinating, and he finds himself in admiration of how cute she is. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs in amusement, “lets get some takeout.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

On Wednesday morning, Harry wakes up bright and early to complete his morning routine -- only today, rather than just making pancakes for himself, he makes a stack for y/n as well. 

He takes them to her room and carefully enters, barely seeing y/n’s head peeking out from under the covers, with her face smushed into her pillow and her hair messily splayed over her face. Underneath her blanket, he can see that her entire body is sprawled out on her bed, legs starfishing across her mattress, with her arms tightly clutching the pillow her head is resting on.

“Y/nnn,” he gently sing-songs, placing her plate on her bedside table and sitting next to her on the bed, “It’s time to get up.” Her face scrunches up for a second and she lets out a hum, momentarily gaining awareness, but it fades away just as quickly as it appears. 

“Y/n, darling,” he tucks a piece of loose hair behind her ear, “I’ve made you breakfast.” She takes a deep breath and shuffles from her side onto her back, drowsily blinking her eyes open. Squinting through the bright morning sunlight, her brain somewhat begins to comprehend her surroundings as she looks around her room, eyes landing on Harry. “G’morning sunshine,” he beams at her.

“Hi, Harry,” she says sleepily. Her eyebrows furrow, “Why am I awake?”

“We’ve got our Literature class in two hours, and I’m going to drive you. Eat up. I hope you like pancakes.”

She sits upright at the thought of breakfast, shaking the tiredness out of her system and knuckling at her eyes to clear away any remnants of sleep. “Oh gosh, Harry, you’re a right angel. I can’t remember the last time I ate breakfast before one of my morning classes.”

She makes grabby hands at the plate of pancakes as Harry passes it to her and stands up from her bed, telling her, “You’ve got an hour to get ready. I want us to leave early, since you and your broken arse are going to slow us down.”

“Hey!” she whines as he walks out, “Be nice to me, I’m injured! I can’t believe I’m living with such a bully.”

He just giggles at her dramatics.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

Harry was right in suggesting that they leave earlier than usual. Y/n hadn’t really practiced using her crutches since she had gotten injured (preferring to just be carried around the house by Harry instead) and found that she absolutely hated using them. They were a little too high for her so they uncomfortably dug into her armpits, and she didn’t understand the mechanisms of using them at all. Did she move the crutches forward and then herself? Was it one foot at a time or both of them together? How the fuck was she supposed to make her way accross campus while having to keep her injured foot off the floor for the entire day?

 So when she hopped out of Harry’s car and began her trek to class with the aid of her crutches… well, let's just say she wasn’t entirely the fastest. She was hobbling around, alternating between using one of her crutches as a makeshift cane, or using them to drag her fractured ankle forward -- at a speed of approximately two steps per minute.

Harry, being the angel that he was, patiently waited for her, not rushing her in any way and being so supportive she could cry. Almost like a father helping his child take their first steps, he encouraged her, throwing the occasional “c’mon love, you’ve got this” and “you’re doing great sweetheart” her way. 

“I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to get around with these damn crutches!” she utters during a breather. Her voice is laced with immense amounts of irritation, but it’s masked through her intense huffing and puffing. Who knew using crutches was so labor intensive? “Feel like I’ve ran a marathon and we’ve not even made it three feet from your car!”

They kept at this pace for 10 minutes, and as accommodating as Harry tried to be towards y/n’s condition, he was getting concerned that they would be late to their class. Dr. Rockerfell was one of those professors who was extremely strict on punctuality and would lock his doors the minute class started. Nobody was ever let into class if they showed up late. Plus, the guy who showed up tardy on the first day of the semester tells horror stories of unexplained failed grades and missing assignments, and neither Harry nor y/n want to deal with Rockerfell’s wrath. 

When there’s less than 15 minutes left until the class starts and they’re still in the quad (quite a while away from their class) Harry stops her. “Give me your crutches.”

“What?”

“Give me your crutches and take my bag. ‘M g’na give you a piggy-back ride.”

“Oh, goodie!” she’s squealing like a giddy little girl about to hop onto a rollercoaster and eagerly exchanges her crutches for his bag, slinging it across her back while Harry leans the crutches against a wall. He bends down so y/n can wrap her arms around his neck, the hoists her up, hooking his arms under her knees and tucking her thighs between his biceps and ribcage. With her on his back, he’s immersed in the way she feels against his back, encased in the scent of her perfume. She’s warm and soft, so soft! Her hands are soft as they rest on his chest, the material of her sweater is soft against his arms, her small breaths are soft against the shell of his ear. He’s only broken out of this trance when y/n hollers, “Onwards, my noble steed!” finally moving them forward at a normal rate. 

They make it there with five minutes to spare, and for the first time ever, they sit next to each other. Harry drops her down before the walk into the classroom because she “can’t have everyone thinkin’ I’m some damsel in distress” and they both sit at the first open spots. 

The first hour of their lecture is fine, with Harry typing up notes on his laptop and y/n writing them out in her notebook (they each have their own preferences in note-taking). They spend the period sharing notes and bits of information the other missed, with Harry frequently tilting his laptop screen towards y/n when she’s struggling to keep up. Going into the second hour of the lecture however, y/n is bored out her mind and Harry is dozing off. They both loved their literature class, but Rockerfell had the tendency to go off onto… irrelevant tangents. It’s been 15 minutes of Rockerfell describing his own experience of reading Catch 22 in college rather than actually analyzing the novel, and Harry’s on the verge of completely falling asleep -- but he’s woken up by y/n nudging his shoulder. He turns his head to her, but rather than being met with eye contact, he’s met with a blank sheet of her notebook pointed in his direction, with a tiny note scrawled onto the page.

I’m so tired of this story, she’s written. 

How did we go from talking about a war novel to Rockerfell’s college girlfriend? I’m this close to falling asleep. He writes back.

He observes how she bites her lip as she writes down a response, and then how she looks back up at Rockerfell with faux interest as she passes the notebook back. Can he not tell when people aren’t interested in his stories? MOVE ON!

Chuckling while reading her note, he scribbles something down for her. She glances at the page, and scoffs at the game of tic tac toe he’s drawn out. For the rest of the period, they continue passing notes and playing secret games until Rockerfell finally ends his story, and dismisses the lecture.

“Where do you usually go after class?” Harry asks her as he waits for her to pack up her bag. 

“Well, usually I go to the library, n’I try to do a bit of studying there. Mostly because the bus I ride home comes in two hours.”

“You sit around for two hours just ‘cos you have no way home?” he frowns, “We’re in the same fuckin’ class love, why didn’t you ever ask me to take you home?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. We just didn’t talk. Thought it might be too much to ask of my distant housemate.”

“Well you won’t be needing that anymore. Consider me your personal chauffeur, I’ll take you anywhere you’d like from now on.”

“Thank you Harry, that’s very kind of you,” she says through a giggle, cheeks tinging pink at his consideration.

“Now, did I hear your stomach growling during that lecture?” he questions, “Were my pancakes not enough for you, you ravenous beast? Let’s take you home so I can make you something to eat.”

“Oh! Can you make me some of that zucchini chicken thing you make for yourself sometimes?” she pleads with a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, starting her straining trek on the crutches again. “I see your leftovers in the fridge all the time and it smells really good.”

“Of course, darling. Anything you’d like.”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve been tempted to steal your leftovers. Take me home, I’m starving!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

As y/n’s ankle began to grow stronger, so did her and Harry’s friendship. Within the mere five weeks that Harry had started helping her around the house and on campus, they’d grown from barely acquantanced housemates to the bestest of friends. They spent almost all their time together. 

In the mornings, Harry would always make breakfast for the two of them. If y/n wasn’t awake yet, he would rouse her gently with kind words, soft touches, and promises of food and hot chocolate. If she had woken up on time, however, she would sit on the counter right next to Harry’s cooking station and engage in pleasant conversation, while observing him as he seamlessly made his way around the kitchen. 

She found that he could make the simplest actions more entertaining, creating a whole show of prepping their breakfast. He’d fiddle on his phone until his bluetooth connected to a speaker and would play them some music from his “happy morning” playlist, using his whisk as a makeshift microphone and singing along to the songs that played. Dancing around y/n, he’d perform a dramatic rendition of Queen’s Killer Queen until she was left in a fit of giggles, applauding him and cheering for an encore, before actually using the whisk to mix his batter. 

While waiting for the first side of their pancakes to cook, Harry would cut up fruit for the two of them, telling her to open up and feeding small pieces to her off the knife. He’d poke and pinch at her sides while she ate, making her squirm around on the counter until the pancakes were ready to be flipped (“Ok, are you ready? Watch this.” he’d say before flicking his wrist, flipping his pancake up into the air, and landing it on the opposite side. This was always followed by a shower of compliments from y/n, “Such a skilled chef. It’s like we have Gordon Ramsey himself in our kitchen!”) then plating them up so that the two of them could eat together. 

He’d drop her off at class, letting her play whatever music she wanted in the car, and he’d come back a couple hours later to pick her up, always creating a schedule compatible with her’s so that they could spend their days together. She’d come with him to the gym and play 2048 on her phone while Harry worked out, and he would help her stretch her leg when it started to cramp up after using her crutches all day (which she’s slowly but surely gotten better at using). They’d study together, with Harry quizzing y/n on her flashcards and y/n cluelessly nodding along to the Comparative Government lecture he would present to her, and they’d spend all their free time together -- talking with each other about the simplest of matters to their own personal concerns.

Most importantly, they had crossed the cuddle barrier. It started as them just watching movies together in y/n’s bed, which directly faced the TV she had mounted on her wall, only consisting of a small amount of contact, the most being y/n leaning over to Harry and stealing a sip of his tea. Over time though, it evolved into them sharing a blanket... then Harry lightly brushing their legs together... then y/n resting her head on his shoulder... until eventually, y/n was latched onto him like a leech. They would watch movies together and quip at scenes they were fond of, with Harry’s arm wrapped around y/n’s shoulders, her legs draped over Harry’s, and her head resting on his chest, right underneath his chin.

And, despite the fact that they had gone from barely seeing each other three times a week to spending a majority of time with each other for the better part of the past month and a half, they still weren’t tired of hanging out. They were just so compatible -- it shocked them that they hadn’t become best friends sooner.

It was a new fact in the world: Harry and y/n were best friends. Even everyone else noticed how friendly the pair were getting.

“Do you want to come out with us today, mate?” Adam asks Harry as the two of them (and Mitch) walk out of class together.

Harry responds mindlessly, more focused on his phone (aka where he’s texting y/n) than the conversating at hand, “Not today, I’ve got to get home.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time at home,” Adam acknowledges, “barely spend time with us anymore. Seems like you prefer your roommate over us.”

“Yeah, I thought you two never talked. What happened to that?” Mitch pipes in.

“Dunno, she broke her foot so I’ve been helping her out. She’s really cool.” he mumbles, head still in his phone.

“Yeah a proper cutie too.” Adam hums, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Are y’planning to make a move on her or something?”

This catches Harry’s attention, as he looks up from his phone, lips parted in pique and eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve spent the entire month cooped up in your apartment with her,” Adam explains, “And when you aren’t in your flat, you’re still glued to her hip. Hell, even now when we’ve got you alone you’re off texting her like a puppy in love.”

“Either she’s doing your homework for you, or you’ve got a mad crush on her, lad.” Mitch resolves.

Harry thinks for a moment. Does he have a crush on her? Sure he loves spending time with her and would do everything in his power to make her smile. And, yeah he wants to dote on her and cook her food and snuggle up with her every night. And ok, maybe he spends an extra minute stroking her cheek when he wakes her up in the mornings, or admiring her lips, imagining how sweet they would taste, how nice they would feel to suckle on… but that doesn’t mean he has a crush on her! 

“Stop talking shit,” Harry grumbles, rolling his eyes and standing up, “She’s just one of m’really good friends. A lot more fun than you wankers.”

They let out offended squawks as Harry packs up his bag, “Anyway,” he carries on, “I’ve gotta run. Y/n’s class s’gonna get out soon ‘n I told her I’d pick her up.”

He gives them a parting wave and a ‘see you later’ before turning around, heading toward the Literature department. He doesn’t see the knowing glance his friends share in his eagerness to see y/n, and definitely doesn’t hear what Mitch says as he walks away.

“Just friends, my ass. He’s bloody in love with her.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

“I’m tired of this week, it’s been crap. I can’t wait to sleep tonight.” y/n says as she makes way towards Harry, who’s waiting next to his car, one leg propped up against his car with his phone in hand. 

“Rough day?” Harry asks.

“You don’t know the half of it.” she groans, climbing into the passenger’s seat of Harry’s car. “I don’t even want to think about my classes.” 

“Come on then,” he says, starting the car, “you can pick t’night’s movie, n’then I’ll give you a cuddle. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds splendid. Wake me up when we get home.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

Their movie night goes swimmingly well. Y/n chooses Pride and Prejudice  as their film of the night (the 2005 version because Kiera Knightley can like… get it), and like usual, they fall asleep half-way through the movie. Legs tangled together and y/n snuggled underneath Harry’s arm, fully latched onto his side.

It’s in the morning when they run into some trouble. 

Like almost every other morning, Harry wakes up earlier than y/n. He’s still in that sweet spot where he’s only somewhat conscious and (for the most part) is still unaware of his surroundings, not fully comprehending his thoughts. He can tell that the morning air is blissfully quiet, and that the warmth that he’s feeling on his face is the early morning sun shining through the window. He can tell that he’s bundled up underneath the covers, safe like the way his mother used to tuck him in. He can tell that he’s inhaling a familiar scent of roses and vanilla that makes his heart flutter. And he can tell that, overall, he’s feeling warm, fuzzy, and completely relaxed.

He can’t figure out what he’s cuddled up to, but he can tell that it's soft… and that if he shifts his hips just right, his cock nudges against whatever he’s cuddling so tightly, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. It’s overwhelming for him to feel this good when he’s just woken up, and he really can't tell how or why he’s feeling this way -- but he knows that if he ruts his hips forward just a little bit, there's a delicious friction that sends his body into overdrive. 

So that’s exactly what he does. 

He thrusts his hips forward once, and it’s heaven. He does it a second time, and feels nothing but euphoria. The third time he does it, he drags it out. Rolls his hips into whatever sensual thing is in front of him, completely nestling his cock against the plush seduction. His mind is still groggy but it just feels so good, and he can’t stop himself. Can’t stop himself from grinding forward. Can’t stop himself from groaning out in sheer pleasure.

Can’t stop himself until he hears y/n whimper out his name.

It’s only then that he comes out of his senseless state, understanding what he’s doing.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Harry had latched onto y/n and pulled her so close that her back was pressed flat to his front and his face was nuzzled into the back of her neck. The alluring object that he had been rutting his hips into had been y/n’s backside, the scent he had been inhaling had been the scent of y/n’s shampoo, and the dirty thoughts that had aroused his actions had been about y/n.

Even worse, in the midst of his unconsciousness, Harry had snaked his hand underneath y/n’s shirt to cup her bare chest. His palm had been encasing the swell of her breast, his thumb had been grazing her pert nippled, and he had latently been grasping onto her tit whilst grinding against her ass.

“Fuck.” He hadn’t meant to do this. Hadn’t meant to ruin the dynamic of their friendship. Hadn’t meant to let the tiny, niggling thought of an inchoate crush force him into a difficult position. Hadn’t meant to put y/n into such an uncomfortable situation. “I’m so sorry. Fuck.” 

There are thousands of thoughts running through his head (most of them scolding himself for being a perverted idiot who thinks with his dick instead of his brain) and he hears an incessant blaring in his head, screaming at him that he’s majorly fucked up. It’s horrendous and never ending, a terrible reminder that he’s ruined the best friendship he’s had in a long time. 

He’s hastily moving away from her, pulling his hips back and retracting his hand from the grip it had on her breast. Trying to make her impending rejection easier on the both of them. Flashes of regret pulse through his body, and he’s just about ready to fall off the face of the earth, until he hears the smallest squeak from y/n.

“wait…” 

It’s hushed, but Harry hears it. Pausing, he stays absolutely motionless to listen to what she says. “That's… it’s alright… you don’t have to…”

Her words diminish, in hopes that he’ll understand what she’s implying, but when he’s still frozen -- hand half-way off her tit and still in position to launch himself into the bathroom -- she utters it out.

“it’s okay… you don’t need to stop.”

Is she- is she telling him that she’s okay with him getting off on her? 

“What? A-are y’sure?” he anxiously wonders.

“Mhm. I want you to.”

And who’s he to refuse?

Gently, he lowers himself back down to her figure, grazing his nose against the slope of her neck and inhaling deeply, breathing in her scent. He’s grabbing her chest once again, fitting his hand around the underside of her breast, and delicately palming it. Dimpling the lush skin with his fingers as he fondles her breast, making her moan as he pinches at her nipple.

He drives his hips forward again, burrowing his cock into the curve of her ass, and shamelessly moans when y/n rocks her body into his. She can feel his erection rubbing against her, shifting up and down, and can’t help herself from shimmying backwards and pressing herself into him. He’s panting into her neck, “Y’so soft. Couldn’t help myself.”

The vibrations of his voice resonate through y/n’s chest, making her mewl out as she grinds her hips backwards, his hard cock snug against her ass. His fingers are still toying with her tits, rolling the hardened nub of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of pleasure down her body. It’s as if a wire connected Harry’s hands with her core, shooting electric ecstasy throughout her body with every touch of his fingertips. Her chest flutters every time she feels his hands groping her breasts, head spinning as she feels his length rubbing against her.

He releases her breast and traces his hand down her stomach, feeling it quiver as he skims his fingertips down her ribcage, to the waistline of her shorts. Toying with the material there, he whispers in her ear, “Can I touch you? Please, ‘m dying to.”

She moans out a ‘yes,’ voice dripping with desire, before Harry slips his hand down her panties, sinking his fingers in the wetness that's pooled just below her clit. They groan out in sync -- y/n at the shock of his cool fingers dipping into her warmth, and Harry at her soaked state. With his fingers coated in her fervor, he circles up to her clit rubbing tight circles onto her nerves, each swipe of his finger coiling the spring of her orgasm just a bit tighter. 

He dips two of his fingers inside her and she moans out as they deftly feel their way around, finding their way to her sweet spot of pleasure. The trigger to her climax. Her walls clamp down on his fingers as he strokes it once, twice, three times. Then he’s adding the sweet pressure of his palm against her clit for her to grind down on, igniting waves of bliss all throughout her body.

Each time Harry surges his hips forward, it pushes y/n forward just the slightest bit so that she’s pressing harder against his fingers, the arousement of her nerves intensifying in the most heavenly way. He keeps his strokes at her walls deep and his caresses consistent, nudging the underside of her clit where she’s particularly sensitive, until she’s cumming.

And god, it’s so good. She’s seeing stars and shuddering with pleasure as he continues to stimulate her clit. The anticipation that had led up to her climax had tipped over, sending a whirlwind of exhilaration through her body, her hips jerking forward to meet Harry’s movements to make it last as long as possible. 

Harry’s groaning into her ear, coaxing her through her climax, whispering nothing but filthy adorations. “Y’feel so good baby, s’pretty when y’cum.” Even through the confines of his sleepwear, his humping and thrusting has managed to kindle him, bringing him to the edge. It’s with her sweet moans and the convulsing of her body that he’s finally able to let go, releasing himself into his boxers. Sure it’s messy, but it’s absolutely mind-blowing. The build-up, the tension, the pure lust, had all escalated to an eruption of nirvana, in what Harry could only define as one of the best orgasms of his life. 

He lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment in a post-orgasmic haze, before he springs out of bed to get himself out of the absolute disaster in his boxers. Stepping into the bathroom, he wets two towels (one for his own thighs, currently covered in a copious amount of cum, and one for y/n), and hurries back to her figure in the bed, wiping her down so that she’s no longer messy in between her thighs. He rests his hand on the side of her face as he looks at her, cheeks flushed and eyes drowsily blinking up at him.

“M’sleepy,” she mumbles, leaning into his palm and snuggling under the covers once again. Despite haven woken up not even half an hour ago, she’s so fucked out that she’s ready to crash down once again. Plus, she would still be asleep if it weren’t for Harry’s… prodding. 

“Sleep then,” he whispers to her, “we have nowhere to be.” Wrapping an arm around her, he lays by her side and allows her to rest her head on his shoulder. 

He falls asleep engulfed in the scent of roses and vanilla.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

When y/n wakes up, she’s alone in her bed.

It’s not a particularly strange occurrence -- she’s been waking up alone for the majority of her life -- but on this particular day, she’d sort of expected to wake up next to Harry. Not alone. 

Was that wrong of her to expect? She’d just been fingered by her best friend that she’d secretly had a crush of for fucking forever, and he’d left her in the morning. Couldn’t she have at least gotten an explanation? A good morning? This just felt dirty and cheap… like a one night stand. Was she expected to do the walk of shame too? To where... the kitchen to get breakfast?

It’s disheartening. The small giddy part of her that had been excited about possibly taking things with Harry to the next level was absolutely crushed. Any fluffy feelings she had prior to waking up were replaced were embarrassment, disappointment, and honestly, a little bit of heartbreak. Wouldn’t anyone else feel the same way after being abandoned?

Was that a casual thing for him? Did he do that with all his friends?

Faintly she can hear the sound of music coming from the kitchen. The smell of breakfast is filtering through the room, inviting her to the kitchen, but she’s really, really dreading any confrontation with Harry.

Did he regret it? Did he not want that? Had he felt obliged to get her off? 

God, she doesn’t even want to think about it! She liked Harry so much! He was nice and gentle and he’d helped her when she was helpless. He’d cooked for her and watched movies with her and given her cuddles and hugs. And he was pretty -- so pretty! 

He had pretty green eyes that looked just like emerald gems in the light. Green eyes that made her feel at home, and all lovey dovey inside. That would gleam bright when he would wake her up in the mornings, and be soft and kind whenever she was rambling to him. 

And his lips were so pink and lush. He had the prettiest, most perfect taffy lips, she had decided. Round and plump lips that perfectly dipped into a heart shaped cupid’s bow, and pouted out whenever she wouldn’t finish her pancakes, or spread into a smile whenever she was clumsy and fumbled around their apartment on her crutches. Lips that were so soft whenever they brushed against her ear as he whispered something to her in Rockerfell’s class.

And his hair, don’t even get her started on his hair. His beautiful hair that she would run her fingers through whenever he laid himself down on her lap. His hair that tickled her whenever they cuddled, because his curls went down to his shoulder and she always rested her head on his shoulder. His hair that smelled like her, because “i just love the way you smell. Smell all rosy and vanilla-y, can’t blame me for wanting to smell like you.”

He was so nice and pretty and kind and soft, and then he had the audacity to let her wake up alone in the morning??

Her racing thoughts are interrupted by a knock at her door, and a happy Harry peeking his head into her room. “Oh good, y’awake. I’m making us some brekkie.” he says as he pops her a cute little grin. 

‘Damn him and his morning voice and his good cooking and his dumb dimples,’ y/n thinks to herself while he continues. “Won’t start without you, hurry up.”

‘He’s acting so normal,’ y/n thinks, hauling herself out of her bed, ‘does this mean he doesn’t want to talk about it? Are we going to pretend like it never happened?’

He’s plating a bunch of pancakes when she walks into the kitchen, and brings them to their breakfast table as she takes a seat. Flashing her a dimpled smile, he plops down into the seat right next to her, throwing out a “bon appetite” before he digs in.

She’s deep in thought as she takes her first bite, staring directly at Harry while she hyper-analyzes his every move. He’s just taken a massive bite of his pancakes, tongue peeking out the slightest bit as he shoves a forkful into his mouth, jaw defined everytime it clenches down, his cheeks absolutely stuffed as he chews with pursed lips. His eyes catch her’s, noticing her gaze, but she looks away immediately, dropping her sight to the plate in front of her, cheeks tinging red.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asks, putting his fork down. 

“No nothing,” she hums, eyes still downcast and voice a pitch too high.

“Yes there is,” Harry knows this. Y/n is never this shy and blushy, and she answered him too quickly. She’s obviously worrying herself, and it’s more than likely that she’s thinking about the event that occurred earlier that morning. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” she replies, far too fast.

She’s clearly not going to be able to face the topic head on by herself, so Harry takes control of the conversation. “I think we should talk about this morning.”

She can’t bring herself to make eye contact with him. “It’s okay if you want to ignore it,” she quietly tells him, “we can pretend it never happened.”

Oh. 

Well he hadn't expected that. He thought she liked it… did he misinterpret the situation? Like she did say yes, but was it a pity yes? Did he imagine that they were having a moment or was she not as into it as he was?

“Do- do you regret it?” he timidly asks. Had she been grossed out? Did she think he was some sort of perv who couldn’t keep his prick in his pants?

“No,” she mumbles, “but I understand if I crossed a line.”

He doesn’t get it. How could she possibly think she had done anything wrong? “If you...what? If you crossed a line? I was the one who was dry humping you in my sleep...”

“I- well,” she blushes as she stutters, “I mean you wanted to leave. I was the one who told you to stay.”

“and then I was fucking beggin’ to get you off!” He doesn’t get it! Hadn’t he been obvious in his affection for her?

She’s silent, cheeks still tinted pink as she stares blankly at the table. “You weren’t there when I woke up. I just assumed…”

Oh. Oh no.

He’s such an idiot. He’d gotten out of bed to make them breakfast without even thinking of the way that might come off to y/n. He treasures her! He adores her! He thinks she’s the sweetest thing on the planet, the prettiest girl in the world! And yet he’d gone on and made her think that he’d just humped n dumped her. “Oh, lovie, m’so sorry I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. I was just gonna make us some breakfast.” 

Cupping her jaw he lifts her face so that he can look into her eyes. He pushes the small strands of hair that fell into her face out of the way so that their eyes could meet, and leans in close to her. They’re only a couple of inches apart as he softly tells her, “I should’ve stayed in bed with you. Given you the proper good morning you deserved.”

He brings his hand up to her mouth and gazes it at it longingly as he runs the pad of his thumb back and forth on her bottom lip. Mesmerizes himself with the way her lips feel, how soft they are, how plump they are. The way her bottom lip indents under the lightest pressure he puts against it, and how it bounces back into place when he tugs on it just the slightest bit. 

“Could’ve woken you up with cuddles and kisses, n’told you how much I like you. That y’my best friend, but you’re also the prettiest girl in the world, n’that I’m always thinkin’ about how cute y’are.” 

She’s listening intently to every word he says, watching him speak. Watching how his lips sculpt every word, and how he enunciates all his syllables. Looks at his eyes that flicker between her eyes and her lips as he pulls her closer and nudges their noses together.

They both shut their eyes as Harry rests his forehead against hers, taking in the intimacy of the moment. She’s just a breath away, so close to him that he can feel her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. So close that he can feel every breath of hers, every puff that leaves her tingling lips. He worships her.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers to her, grazing their lips together. She’s inhaling each of his words as he speaks them out into the meager distance between them, mustering up enough composition to respond to him with a delicate ‘please.’

He brings his hand down to the shadow of her jawline and rests his thumb on the curve of it, sliding his fingers into her hair as he captures her bottom lip between his, and suckles on it. And, god, she’s so sweet. She tastes sugary and syrupy as he licks at the seam of her lips, relishing in the taste of her. Her lips are soft and plush as they pucker against his, and her skin is warm and smooth underneath his thumb that’s grazing back and forth on the edge of her jaw. And when he starts to nip and nibble at the lip that’s slotted between his own, she lets out the sweetest little moans into his mouth, whimpering and reaching out to grab at him in any way she can. 

She mimics him and slips her fingers into his hair, tangling them into the curly strands and tugging at them in a way that makes Harry just groan out in pure ecstasy. He thinks that he’s been sent straight to heaven with this divine kiss from his angel, and really doesn’t want it to ever stop -- but he can tell that she’s running out of breath. So he pulls away slowly, lips clinging together as he pulls away, and just about melts when she whimpers into his mouth in protest of him releasing her lips.

Dreamily blinking her eyes open, she looks at him with heart-eyes, trying to catch her breath and huffing out small puffs of air onto his lips that she’d just been latched onto. She’s floating through Harry-land, and she’s all blushy and rosy while Harry gazes down at her fondly. She just can't resist from flitting forward to press the sweetest peck against his lip, and then nuzzling her cheek into the hold he’s maintained. “I think I really like you, Harry.” she dazedly tells him with a cute smile, blinking her doe eyes up at him.

“Yeah?” he says, lovingly stroking at her face, “Well that’s good then, because I really like you too angel.”

[for-fucks-sake-h]

M A S T E R L I S T

Hello and welcome to the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge Masterlist!

Here are a collection of links to every authors blog, piece, as well as their chosen era/trope. As always, please give all the authors some love and feedback.  And thank you to everyone who participated and brought this challenge to life! @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays and I couldn’t have asked for a better turnout x

* indicates mature content 

. . . 

YELLOW* :: [5D] by @andwhenshesays :: Pain Kink H - or, what transpired backstage after Tattoo Roulette.  

GIRL CRUSH* :: [7E] by @avhrodite :: Harry’s got a crush and it’s on his best friend, who’s making him blush.

THREE :: [8C] by @bfharry :: More than anything, Harry wanted his children to grow up around music. He wanted each of them to connect with it from an early age, just like he did. So, he chose a song for each of them. 

A LITTLE LOVE :: [11E] by @dallas-suit-harry :: Harry is your best friend and your coworker, but you see him as more. Maybe you both just want a little love.

DREAMY :: [8E] by @daydreamsofh :: Yearning, yearning, pining. More yearning, yearning, and some more yearning. Sometimes our wildest day dreams do come true.

A LONELY RED CARNATION :: [3G] by @decadentbellepoetrygoop :: In which florist!harry falls for a girl who always buys lilies but he’s got some issues. 

MY DATE WITH THE PRESIDENT’S SON :: [5A] by @eloquent--asshole :: How could this be happening? What did I do to deserve the position to role play as the President’s slutty son’s romantic interest?

WANNA BE YOURS* :: [3F] by @for-fucks-sake-h :: Bandana wearing sub H feat. edging, love, and a deep devotion.    

THE SWEETEST FRUIT* :: [11I] by @fromyourstrulyh​ :: In which Harry is craving for the sweetest fruit for breakfast.   

ALWAYS BE YOUR FRIEND :: [8E] by @gucciwins :: It’s easy to love your best friend but it’s not easy being in love with them.  Harry and Y/N became friends from the moment they first met. Will they take a chance and confess their feelings or will they watch each other fall in love with someone else? 

ROSES AND VANILLA* :: [5E] by @goldenfeelin :: In which y/n and Harry aren’t really close until y/n falls in the shower, and Harry falls in love. 

THE HONEYMOON* :: [8C] by @harolinastyles :: Breathe me in, breathe me out, they don’t think that they could ever go without.

WANT YOU :: [1B] by @harry-is-my-medicine :: Harry is June’s ex. June is Y/N’s best friend. Months after the break up they meet again, and there is an attraction Y/N is just not ready to address. (part 2*, part 3*) 

BAREFOOT IN THE PARK* :: [9B] by @harrysdodgyankles :: The enemies-to-lovers orchestra!au in which you and Harry are dueling violinists competing for the same prize, but you might just win something else along the way.

EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED* :: [7G] by @harrysonlyangelsss :: Live on Tour H with a few dirty dreams and a whole lot of pining. 

SO FAR SO GOOD :: [8A/G] by @harrytheehottie :: Sort of fake dating, lots of mutual pining. 

SEVEN SIX FIVE :: [2/9B] by @heart-attack-harry :: They met once seven years ago. Now music has made them cross paths again. 

(THE START OF) SOMETHING NEW* :: [1F] by @hsmuffintop :: It starts, as most things do, with a bet. Harry decided to go out with his fraternity brothers instead of staying in like he normally does on a Friday night, and a few drinks in, he spots a beautiful woman across the bar.

SUGAR & SPICE :: [8B] by @iconicharry :: Enemies to lovers, a hella cliché (oh no, there’s only one room and one bed!)

MILES & BLACK COFFEE :: [3B] by @idk-who-she-is​ :: You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before…. (read more of this series here!) 

PRETTY LITTLE ANGEL* :: [6I] by @imnottherealharrystyles :: Marcel, leather gloves, and edging.  

TEETH* :: [9F] by @kissesinthekitchen :: It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you. Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting. And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so.

CRAVE :: [2E] by @kiwi-stan :: AU Harry’s a struggling songwriter until a song about being in love with his best friend puts him on the map. 

BLACK & BLUE* :: [11G] by @oh-honey-styles :: A story of weathered love. Can it conquer any storm?

SOBER UP* :: [1B] by @punkcupcakestyles :: If someone were to ask, there was a lot of alcohol involved. A lot. It was too late to pretend it was never your intention. It was just that your courage tasted like margaritas. 

ALONE TOGETHER* :: [9E] by @rawmeharry :: A friends to lovers fic OU where Harry doesn’t want to quarantine alone and y/n moves into his place for the time being. Will the two of them finally tell each other how they feel or will they end up killing each other by the end of it? 

(GOD IS A) WOMAN* :: [6F] by @sparklygucciprince :: Dunkirk era/2017 Harry. She finds an alternative use for a makeup brush and he’s a very good boy.    

MAKE A MOVE :: [5G] by @stellarboystyles :: Harry’s a bartender and she’s a waitress, a match made in heaven. That is, if they weren’t constantly pining over each other like idiots.

IF LOVE BE ROUGH WITH YOU :: [9B] by @wonderrdies :: In which you and Harry are professors at a prestigious Art and Language university but can’t stand each other. Well, you can’t stand him. 

. . . 

[fromyourstrulyh]

The Sweetest Fruit

A/N: Hello! This is my very, VERY late submission for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge! This is long overdue but I have finally gotten around to writing this! A couple of disclaimers though before you begin reading: 1) this fic contains the teeniest bit smut and with that said, 2) this is my first time writing smut ever, so please be gentle with me. As always, a massive thank you to Anne (@oh-honey-styles), Kate (@andwhenshesays) and Anna (@for-fucks-sake-h) for hosting the fic challenge! I would also like to thank Kate, Anne, El (@real-work-of-art) and Morgan (@soullikestyles) for reading through and giving me the boost of confidence I need to post this fic! 🙈 Finally, please go support the other amazing writers who also participated in the challenge here!

Summary: In which Harry is craving for the sweetest fruit for breakfast.

— • — • —

Harry loves his fruit. Anything from apples to mangoes to watermelon, he loves them all.

Maybe it’s the different flavor profiles he gets from the variety of fruits — tangy, sweet, tart — when he first bites into it. Maybe it’s that fruits are readily available to him and he can have them any time of the day whether it’s for breakfast, a midday snack or his dessert. Maybe it‘s that some of his favorite fruits also happen to be some of the juiciest.

Which reminds him of how you taste on his tongue.

When he savors a fruit, his mind is flooded with memories of him between your thighs on nights (and days) when he feels the urge to feast on you like you’re his last meal. He’s relentless and he does not stop until his hunger is satisfied. He just can’t help himself when you look ravishing.

So when you enter the kitchen moments after waking up, looking as enticing as ever, Harry became turned on just at the sight of you — to say the least.

He thinks it’s because of the way your hair is still messy, the sex hair still evident from the night before. He admires the way you don’t show any effort in trying to hide the marks he made on you. He thinks it’s because of the satin nightgown you have on. Despite you being absolutely filthy for him the previous night, begging and unashamedly screaming for him to go faster and harder, he also loves that you still like to be a little modest. The thought of hearing the sounds you make for only him again makes his cock swell up.

Before Harry can even stop himself, he walks up to you from behind while you’re busy making coffee. He wraps his arms around your torso bringing you to him so that your back is flush to his front. He places a faint kiss to your temple.

“G’morning, love. How’d you sleep?” He asks.

The question is so simple, so innocent. Yet the tone of his voice is raspy which says otherwise. It makes your body tense. You know that’s how he sounds in early mornings shortly after he wakes. It’s also how he sounds when he just needs you and right now, you know what he wants when you become hyper aware of his erection poking the back of your thigh.

“Hm, slept well, H. You?” You tried to play it cool but Harry knows you like the back of his hand.

He chuckles. “Best sleep I’ve had in a long time. But I had to get up early to get something for breakfast.”

You hum. “Yeah? Is there anything you’re craving? I can prepare it for you.”

“Yeah, actually. Was havin’ some fruit earlier but I want something sweeter. Got any ideas as to what I can have?” You feel his hand trail down your stomach and goosebumps rise on your skin. You shiver at the suggestive tone of his voice and the feeling of his hand getting closer and closer to where you need him. You exhale shakily, trying to maintain your composure, but you feel it slowly diminishing.

You turn around in his arms so that you’re facing him, abandoning the unmade coffee. Your hips grind against his, letting him know exactly what you want.

“No clue.” You reply innocently, looking up at his face through your lashes. His eyes that were once a bright green have darkened tremendously. Harry growls and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. You feel his hands everywhere — on your hips, your thighs, with the occasional squeeze on your behind — and it makes you moan in his mouth.

“Fuck, love, need t’taste ya. Please.” He begs at the same time walking you to the counter. You jump and wrap your legs around his waist before sitting down on the cool surface.

When you’re sat comfortably on the counter, he brings his hand to the apex of your thighs. You squeal, not expecting the suddenness, but it soon turns into a moan when Harry feels his fingers being soaked with your juices. You feel your skin heat up at his touch.

The contact from his fingers is gone as quickly as it came and you watch as he brings his drenched fingers in front of his face, admiring how it glistens in the sunlight peeking through the kitchen window. Harry brings them to his lips and he hums at your familiar taste. Your mouth is parted, chest heaving, one of the straps to your nightgown is hanging from your shoulder, exposing your right breast, and Harry has never seen anything more beautiful.

You whine. “Harry, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Touch me.” You command.

“Gotta be more specific than that, love. Use your words.”

You groan internally. He knows you absolutely hate it when he’s being a tease especially when you’ve gotten so needy. The last of your patience left of your body and you spread your legs wider for him.

“Fine, then. Eat me out, Harry. Put your tongue to good use.” He doesn’t say anything. He simply smirks before kneeling down so that he’s eye level to the most intimate part of your body. You watch him nip your inner thighs until red marks appear on your skin, to remind you (and him) of the pleasure he gives you, slowly getting closer and closer to where you need him most...

“Can smell ya from here, love. All this for me?” The vibrations from his voice sends a shiver up your spine and you don’t know how much of his teasing you can take.

“H, I swear if you don’t stop teasing me, I—” The rest of your thought gets cut off and is replaced with a loud moan when he finally licks a broad stripe from your leaking hole to your swollen clit. He flicks and nibbles on the bundle of nerves, knowing it only riles you up more.

“Mm, so bossy, didn’t know my girl wants it so dirty. Just remember I’m in control here, yeah?” He flicks your clit once more which earns him another moan.

“Oh my god, yes, you’re in control. Just keep going, please.”

At that, he keeps going and doesn’t stop, as if he had any plan to. The feeling of his tongue and cool breath on your contrastingly warm skin is only adding fuel to the fire. The air smells of sweat and sex. Your mouth feels dry from it being agape. You glance down to the man between your legs to find him looking back at you. He looks at you in the eye as he nibbles on the bundle of nerves that have gotten so sensitive from his work that the slightest touch is enough to make you beg for more.

Your mouth is open in shock, head thrown back. Your mind is in a state of pure bliss, almost as if it was transported to a paradise with nothing but pleasure. You’re brought back to reality when you feel his thumb rubbing slow and languid circles on your clit. You love how attentive he is and it only makes your grind your hips against his mouth.

“Harry, fuck, I’m so, so close. Please don’t stop.”

He hums at your request, sending vibrations throughout your body. Your skin feels clammy against the counter but you could care less when the man in between your legs is feasting on you like there’s no tomorrow.

You raise your hips again to bunch the hem of your soaked nightgown around your waist. As soon as you sit back down, your hands find their way to Harry’s head. With his curls between your fingertips and your nails lightly scratching his scalp, you lightly tug on his hair which earns you a groan. In response, you widen your legs to give him more access.

“Harder,” he rasps.

When you pull on his hair a little harder than the first time, you feel the smirk on your skin. Just before you make a remark, however, his thumb on your clit speeds up.

“So wet for me. So fuckin’ sweet, sweeter than any fruit. C’mon, know yeh wanna cum for me. Cum for me baby. On my count, got it?” He asks in a whisper.

Your mind has lost all words and you could only nod to tell him that you want — more like need — a release. Your senses are in overdrive and if this means Harry gets to have you like this, with your legs spread and his tongue buried deep in between, so be it. You’re at his absolute mercy, wrapped around his finger. He is in control of you and your pleasure and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“3...” He starts.

He continued his assault on your folds. He flicked, licked, nibbled, gently bit on your oh-so-sensitive clit.

I guess he really was hungry, you thought.

“2...”

You arch your back, buck your hips to his mouth. You tightly grip onto his hair, pulling on it towards your cunt, but also push him away because you can’t take anymore. But Harry doesn’t let his job go unfinished. He can almost just feel you’re almost there, close to your release.

“1...”

And you cum. Hard. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you can see specks of white in your vision. Your body has a mind of its own, shuddering and your legs quake while Harry laps up every single drop of your juices. The only sounds that can be heard in the room is just you shouting curses and Harry’s name over and over again.

After what feels like an eternity, you feel like you finally recovered from what might’ve been one of the best orgasms you’ve received. You feel a loss of contact from Harry’s mouth and fingers.

You watch with hooded eyes as Harry stands, his face hovering over yours. He looks so beautiful with his chin glistening with the sunlight casted upon him. He brings his drenched fingers to his mouth and your mouth parts as you watch him taste you on his fingers. He hums in satisfaction.

He gives you a sly smirk. “Want some?”

You nod. He leans in to kiss you and your taste is evident on his tongue. You moan when you also taste a hint of the sweetness from the fruit he had earlier. It helps since your mouth was so dry from it being open for so long.

His kisses trail down your neck, his lips pecking the area around your sweet spot. You jump when you feel his teeth nip the area he knows make your knees weak. You lean your head back to give him better access. He nips and bites down on the skin until he knows a mark forms and soothes the pain with his tongue. He continues his torture down to your collarbone while he gently rubs your nipple, that’s poking through the your nightgown, with his thumb. He pulls the other strap down your shoulder and arm and pulls the top of your gown down to your stomach until both breasts are exposed to the slight breeze in the room, making you shiver. You can almost feel the smirk against your skin and before you have the chance to say anything, you feel his tongue flick your right nipple and nip on the skin around it before doing the same on your other breast.

For the first time since he went down on you, you speak up. “S-So good,” you stutter.

At that, Harry’s lips quirk up.

“Yeah? Come to think of it, I’m craving for some breakfast in bed. Think I just found the sweetest fruit.”

[kissesinthekitchen]

Teeth

Prompt: It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you. Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting. And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so. 

Smut and fluff. Needy Harry. More than 6,560 words of sub!Harry.

Pairing: Harry x Reader

A/N: I’m really excited about this! This story was written for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge - and my prompt was 9F - Sub!Harry. It really pushed my writing and forced me to write something different and out of my comfort zone. I have so much love for @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays​ and @oh-honey-styles​ for their patience and for putting this event together. These writers have inspired me so much, they literally brought me back to fanfic -after years of writer’s block- and I could not be more thankful. This was my first time taking part in a writing challenge too! I would appreciate any love or feedback this gets. Thank you! xo

His eyes are full now, they’re brimming, prickling with tears. And his jaw is tense. He leans into the cup of your hand and you watch the features of his face flutter, the desperation is still there - simmering, but a calmness passes over him as he leans into your touch. He could be good, he could be so good for you.

God, you want to wreck him.

It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you. 

Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting. 

And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so. 

But aside from passes of food and medication through the door of your apartment and fuzzy Facetime calls, he hasn’t seen you. 

It’s been hard. The evening after you first slept together, you were taken away from him - a girl’s trip to Maui, for one of your best friend’s bachelorette parties. You’d given him time, moments tucked away in your hotel room when your mate was gone and you had an hour to yourself. An hour of grinning at him through the face of an unreliable internet connection to tell him that you missed him so bad. Selfies taken hidden in the bathroom. Cheeky voicemails. He’s kept them all.

Then, when your plane had touched down in California, there had been another road bump in your reunion when you’d come back ill. Your achy, trembling voice had croaked into the phone delivering him the bad news. “Harry, I’m sick.” 

You’ve been sick for the last week and a half and it’s been hard to give you your space, Harry will admit to that. But you’re adamant, serious. You remind him that he has rehearsals for tour starting soon and he can’t risk it. 

“Miss you,” he croaks into his phone when you touch down.

“Miss you more,” you tell him back, a cough slicing through your promise. 

“Let me buy you groceries. I can pick up your prescription-”

Harry watches your face soften through the video call, wanting nothing more than to touch your cheek. 

“I’ll pay you back,” you tell him, smiling as if you both don’t know he has a bank account worth millions of dollars. Later, you both stare at each other miserably through the window of your living room window as he places your groceries and medicine on your doormat. He blows you a kiss goodbye before he leaves and you pretend to catch it with your hand. 

But that had been a few days ago and now you’re on your way to his house, caught in Los Angeles traffic but on your way nonetheless. 

He wonders if you’ve thought about it too, thought about him. If you have missed him just as much. He doesn’t feel alone in this feeling, if the look in your eyes as he left your window is enough to tell him, but there’s something else gnawing at him-

Harry is sure he’s in love with you. 

It’s a feeling that kindled inside of him before you slept together, but now it feels more palpable, real. Bigger than himself. The weeks without you have only cemented it for him. He loves you. He’s in love with you. He might have even written a few songs about it already. 

He wants to tell you. He likes the idea of feeling right, but he doesn’t want to wait. He wants to tell you when he feels like he can’t take it anymore, and he knows that feeling is dawning. The words feel like they are bubbling in his chest, nearing the tip of his tongue each time he talks to you. 

You’ve been together five months now. And he knows maybe that’s a bit of a long block of time to get into each other’s pants for some people - god knows he might have wanted to jump your bones earlier than that. 

But time was always in the way, the same way it feels now. A trip to take him across another country away from you. Your job making you stay late or taking you out of state. You’ve done other stuff together before - of course. Hurried handjobs when you were visiting the studio, his fingers tasting you, he might have even gotten his cock in your mouth when he went to visit you at work. But the real getting together, the real sleeping together - had taken five months. And now that he knows what you feel like, what sounds you make, how you look underneath him - Harry can’t think of anything else. It’s the only thing that has carried him through the last few weeks without you when he’s been miserably lonely. His need for you, and yes, his love for you. 

It happened in your bedroom, on the small - full sized bed in your apartment, rather than the massive mattress in his house. But he thinks it was perfect that way. He loves your apartment now, he knows it. He has his favorite mug and you stock a box of his favorite granola on top of your fridge. He names the plants in your living room. (“Bowie,” he points to a colorful succulent. “Obviously.” And then “Freddie” to the pothos sitting on your bookshelf.) And there are photos of you together tacked up with magnets in the kitchen and frames next to your bed. That night you had given him his own toothbrush to keep on the sink in the bathroom next to yours. 

Everything about him seems to ache without you here. His hands feel empty without you against them, music -even, he realizes- does not feel as vibrant without your voice there to sing along with him. 

You’ve kept him close though, and for that he is happy. He muses on this as he finishes some dishes in the kitchen, trying not to glance at the clock again. 

It started with the text messages. Then the photos you sent him from Hawaii. He has to stiffle a grin at the memory - A sex shop your friends had pulled you into a few days into your trip. You’d sent him a photo of a wall of toys - floggers, gags, dildos, chokers, blindfolds. Harry had barked out a laugh at first when he saw the picture unfold in front of his eyes. See anything you like? You’d teased. 

He remembers how he’d been sitting in his living room, the sound of the latest Packers game fading in the background. His ears felt hot as his fingers hovered over the letters on his phone. 

The choker. He’d typed out, teeth gnawing into his bottom lip. Maybe the blindfold too. 

For me or you?

Me. xx

Harry swears he must have felt all the blood rush to his groin when he saw your reply.

They have handcuffs too. 

Your talks and messages had only escalated from there. It was as if you were both daring each other to go further, but instead you were crossing new territory together, hand in hand. You made him feel dizzy with want, the way you were meeting him inch for inch. 

It’s the only reminder that Harry feels like he needs - he can trust you in a way he hasn’t been able to trust anyone before. He finds himself pledging devotion to the intrigue in your eyes, the way you don’t shy away when he teases you back or admits something through the phone. The feeling leaves him breathless, if he’s being honest. Most of all, it makes him miss you even more. 

His skin is buzzing as the minutes crawl by and your arrival gets closer and closer. He can’t stay still. He paces the hall until he sees the text banner on his phone announce you’re arrival. I’m outside. 

Harry’s favorite thing about you is the way you look perfectly at home in his house. Like you’ve alway belonged here. He swears sometimes that he must have dreamt you into life. It’s like you have just always been here. He’s reminded of this when he hears your voice over the security camera  - “It’s meee.” And when he pulls the door open -  

“Baby-” he opens his arms. 

You drop your bags on his doorstep. And you’re grinning as you launch yourself into his arms, your cheek flat against his chest and your nose buried in his neck. “Harry.”

“Oh baby,” he says, his fingers gingerly stroking your cheek, pushing your face up so your foreheads meet. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes are glistening as he presses your lips together. 

The last few weeks feel like a lie of nostalgia. Your memories of him have not done him justice. Not to the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles, not to his warmth or his laugh and definitely not to the way he kisses you. 

He smells good, like something crisp and floral - his expensive aftershave and cologne, and something still so distinctly Harry. That’s the part you have missed the most. 

You kiss him with both arms around his neck to pull him down to your height and you don’t stop until his back hits the door, reminding you both that you need a break to breathe. He’s laughing as he grips your waist. 

“Sorry,” you muse, smudging some of the lipstick that you’ve gotten on his mouth and teeth. 

“Don’t be, love. C’mere,” he takes your groceries (you owe him, don’t you?) and bag from you.

You shuffle into the house, checking your keys twice to make sure you locked your car even though Harry laughs and reminds you there’s a gate and a security guard that patrols the neighborhood. 

Harry helps you unpack the groceries, while you work on relearning the map of his kitchen again, pulling drawers and opening cabinets, trying to get acquainted with his space again. He throws on some Fleetwood Mac and The Zombies filter through the space between you as you start dinner. He muses that the song could not be more perfect for the feeling inside his chest. “Should I try to hide, the way I feel inside? My heart for you? Would you say that you love me too? I can tell the way you smile. If I feel that I could be certain then. I would say the things I want to say tonight.”

He stares at you with something that feels like pride, watching the sun filter through the window as you work. He thought -maybe- it might be hard to look you in the eyes or to push the feeling inside him aside but this, it feels easy. Watching you and being together with you in this way. His house, he feels, it finally feels like home now that you’re here. 

The smell of garlic and olive oil begins to fill the kitchen as you prepare the ratatouille and pasta you promised him you would make. You smile when he leans down to rest his chin against your shoulder as you work, sometimes squeezing your side with his hands. 

“Smells good, love,” he says, a watchful eye hanging over your shoulder at the pots and pans on the stove. 

Harry pours wine into glasses for the both of you and you hum your thanks when he pushes the throat of a glass towards you, closing your eyes as he kisses the top of your head.  And when you unwrap the loaves of bread from the store, he laughs and barks out “Could’a told me to make some, love. I used ‘ta work in a bakery!”

You laugh as you tug on his waist, reaching up to catch his lips. “I know. You never make me forget.” 

You make tiramisu later, trying hard not to stare at Harry too much as you work together. His long fingers dipping the ladyfinger cookies into the espresso mix. And you know he catches you blushing when he asks you to taste the whipped cream from his fingers. It has not stopped catching you by surprise, the way he can make you feel beautiful and important and lucky all at once. 

And even though he knows this was the plan for tonight, he can’t help but beam at the promise in your voice when the words come tumbling later. “Brought my bag,” you tell him over your empty plates. “Packed an outfit for tomorrow. Hope you like my pajamas.” You smirk at him. 

“S’the ones with coffee mugs and lattes on them?”

You throw your head back and laugh at the fact that he remembered them. 

“Sexy,” he teases. You catch him leaning against the counter and taking you in. “Got you a toothbrush.”

You smile, memories of last time quickly flooding your thoughts, but don’t take your eyes off the napkin in front of you. You know he’s lost in the same memories. When you’re washing dishes later though, he leaves you to place the fancy -electric, you’ll notice later and expensive- toothbrush sitting on top of your overnight bag. 

After dinner, when you’re both feeling warm and giggly, you pull him back into the sitting area of his bedroom. Harry gulps hard as he watches you insist on lighting some candles, and the smell of teakwood and rosemary fill the room. Watching you makes his stomach clench, this is all he has wanted, craved, needed for the last few weeks. You in his arms and in bed, taking up his space again. 

He’s sitting on the small sofa next to his bed, the enormity of his room could almost beat the entire size of your apartment. But you feel at peace here, in the same way he feels comforted and hidden in your home. He’s more than the expensive, designer clothes in his closet, the guitars that line one wall, the pile of leather bound journals and gold and white accented bathroom. Here, he’s just Harry. Your Harry. 

When he’s finally relaxed, you push some gifts bags into his hands and insist that he unwrap the gifts you got him from Hawaii. There are books, boxes of chocolate, bags of pineapple candy, floral shirts from vintage thrift stores, and a kitschy keychain with hula dancers and his name on it - that looks so hilariously out of place next to the keys for his Mercedes and vintage cars. 

You look warm and inviting as you turn towards him, the candlelight taking your skin glow like amber. Your skin looks kissed by the sun thanks to your trip. And Harry’s suddenly overwhelmed with how he wants nothing more than to kiss you for your thoughtfulness, for the disbelief he feels at having you here, for the feeling bursting in his chest. 

“Got you one more thing,” you tell him as you close the distance between you, reaching around him to place a small gift box in his hand. 

“Another present? Or summat?” he smiles. 

You kiss the side of his face, humming softly in response, stroking the back of his hair and neck. You try to stay composed as Harry’s fingers gingerly pry the lid of the box open. 

The air feels like it has been sucked out of him. He hates that his fingers tremble a little as he takes the collar out of the box. It’s black and thick, feels smooth like leather, with a buckle that slides closed on the side. He swallows hard as his thumb gingerly runs over the loopholes, imagining the way it would feel gripping his throat or how you would look tying it in place - god, help him. 

“Thought we could use it sometime. Doesn’t have to be tonight. You mentioned-”

And then he’s kissing you. Kissing you so fiercely that your mind stumbles before your body can catch up. Both of his hands on your face, knocking the collar down between you. 

It’s what you have both been walking around all night and it feels like the feeling that had been simply growing in his chest is about to burst. His vision feels like it is swimming right now, but your hands on his face are the only thing tethering him to the ground, whatever is growing between you makes him feel like so much more than himself. The feeling in his chest feels bigger than he has words for right now. 

Your eyes search his. “Do you trust me?

“I do. Y’know I do.” 

“Then Harry?”

His pupils are so wide. “Yeah?” he says. 

“Get on your knees.” 

You watch him carefully as he moves to his knees on the floor, idly shifting closer to the bed. When he stills, you reach for the belt he had discarded on the way into his room. Your fingers rubbing against the leather. “This okay?” 

You listen to his sharp intake of his breath, watch the curls at the front of his face fall briefly in his eyes. “Y-yeah.” 

His hands are one of your favorite things about him. Their large, calloused - his fingers long and tapered. You reach down to press a kiss to the cross on his hand and then move to coil the belt so it loops around his wrists, biting into his skin. 

 Realistically, Harry knows he could get out of this, but it’s the fact that he doesn’t that thrills you. He’s patient and pliant beneath your hands, reduced to his knees and shuddering when your touch leaves him. The line of his neck arching as his eyes follow you. He uses his mouth to follow the line of your palm, kissing your skin until you let go. 

He crawls for you - and oh, you love that. The way his back arches, his long legs and knees hitting the floor, his mind unable to grasp what his body can’t right now - he’s so eager to follow where you go, to be with you, to be a part of you. 

“Harry-” you say, sitting down on the mattress and spreading your legs wide. You lean back to rest your weight on your elbows, thighs lazily spread wide so he can rest between them. You shimmy the end of your dress up, loving the way his nostrils flare and his pupils widen, watching your hands - your fingers grazing where he wishes his skin could go too. Have hungered to for days and days. 

“Harry, do you want to taste me?”

“God, love. Please-”

“Say it again.”

“Please?” he begs.

His nose and lips skim the same path your hands followed. His head of full dark curls turning under the hem of your skirt. You’re gracious enough to help make it easier for him by tugging it up and he groans a sound of thanks into your skin with his lips. 

He’s hungry for it. He inhales deeply, licking you through the fabric of your panties in a way that makes you shudder. He’s even more grateful when you take pity on him by raking your nails through his hair and shifting the material down so he can look at you bare. The tug makes his eyes flutter, it feels so good. 

He’s frozen though, stilling as he waits for your instruction, and you gingerly cup the side of his face in thanks. 

“Go ahead,” you whisper, when he’s almost at the point of whimpering. And then he moves forward, making a home between your thighs. 

Last time you did this, you learned that you love when Harry has both his mouth and his fingers inside you - but this is - well it’s lovely. It’s fucking heaven. Watching how desperate he is to get you off, the way he presses all of his face into your cunt - heeding the deepest part of you, where you’re so wet and just as desperate for him. He’s needy, messy with it. His lips and tongue remembering you all over again, his nose smashed against your cunt and the hint of his teeth against your clit - just enough to have you grinding down on him in a way that makes your brain feel fuzzy. 

Feeling the slickness of his tongue as he slides it inside you makes your cunt feel like it’s fluttering around him. Your face pinches every time he comes back to lick you deeper and you listen to the half garbled words that he’s sucking and pleading into your skin. 

“So wet. So fuckin’ wet for me. Tastes so good. Missed ‘yeh so much.” 

Without the help of his hands, Harry uses one long leg to push himself against the length of the bed- trying to be close to you, while also finding some friction against the mattress. He finds no relief, but when he hears you voice gasp out for him, your fingers weaving in his hair - it’s almost better than any vision he had of you these last few weeks. Oh, it’s so much fucking better. 

He’s so greedy for it. He wants to taste you, needs to feel you cum more than he wants it for himself. You can tell by the way he pushes his tongue between your folds, trying to get deeper, like he’s trying to reach inside you and be a part of you. If his hands were free, he would use his fingers to spread you wide and open. To stuff you full. He knows he would tug on your legs, wear your thighs around his neck like a fucking necklace but there’ll be more time for that - another time, another place - right now, he just wants to feel you cum.

“Harry,” you beg him. “Harry. I’m close-” 

He moans when he watches you slide your fingers down to help aid him, his jaw dropping down in awe as you rub your clit. He works hard to sink down and lick around your fingers before dipping inside of you again. 

“You’re gonna make me come. You’re gonna - I’m going to come in your mouth. God, I’m going to come in your mouth-”

He’s lost in it, but it’s when he looks up at you - his big, green eyes against your flushed pussy, that you feel yourself lose it. It’s simultaneously loving and yet so obscene - you can’t bear it. 

You fist your fingers through his hair, shoulders trembling a little off his pillow, your thighs shaking just as hard- and if his hands were free, Harry knows he would be forcing your thighs and your hips down onto the bed. But all he can do is take it now, take it as hard as you are giving it back to him. His face getting wet and messy with it. 

You could scream with how good it feels. And he licks you through it all, only stalling when your nails dig into his head and he feels you shift away from his incessant mouth. “Too sensitive,” you murmur, and Harry finally relents. 

He sits up on his knees, leaning his forehead against your thighs, trying to breathe through his nose. 

“Harry?”

He makes a sound in his throat, still gasping against your thigh. You touch his head, urge him to rest against your thigh and he’s grateful. He feels something hanging off the tip of his tongue-

“Harry. Harry, what’s your color?” Tell me. Where are you?”

“Green,” he groans, nuzzling deeper into your skin. “That was- that was just a lot. But I’m green. So fuckin’ green, love..” 

You giggle at that and when he finally does look up at you, he looks so pleased with himself. When you take his face between your hands, he feels warm against your fingertips, from the pressure of your hips and how deeply he was digging his face between your thighs. His lips and jaw are soaked, glistening with you and you’re more than happy to help clean him up, licking the taste of yourself from his mouth and pressing soft, appreciative kisses against his face. 

When you finally step aside, his eyes follow you. He’s appreciative of the fingers you still have in his hair and the way you use them to steer him up and onto the bed. 

“Harry?” His eyes look drunk as they meet yours.  He’s still kneeling. “Are you with me?”

“Always, love.”

You smile at him, giving him another pat on the head, your fingers running through his matted hair. And he nuzzles deeper into your hand. 

“Breathe, baby. Give me your safeword.”

His mind is swimming. He thinks of your eyes narrowing at him over dinner - a field - the bright painting on the wall behind your head. - Plastic crinkling around the bouquet of flowers he held clenched between his fingers on your very first date. The vase of them you keep on the island in your kitchen and next to your bed- smiling over at him, the smell of coffee drifting, the sun hitting the bare skin of your back, the name he has you saved under in his phone-

“Sunflower,” he says, the smile on his lips lazy and triumphant when it finally comes to him. “Sunflower. Sunflower.” 

You’re beaming as you stare down at him and he feels like he wants to sink into the praise in your eyes. 

“Good,” you tell him. “Good. You’re doing so good, Harry.”

His eyes are full now, they’re brimming, prickling with tears. And his jaw is tense. He leans into the cup of your hand and you watch the features of his face flutter, the desperation is still there - simmering, but a calmness passes over him as he leans into your touch. He could be good, he could be so good for you.

God, you want to wreck him. 

“M’cock’s hard,” he says, in the same lazy, almost dazed voice. “S’leaking.”

You make work of both your clothes and then unbuckle his pants and take him out and true to his word - he’s hard. So hard. His expression looks pained when you thumb the raspberry tip of his cock, your mouth watering. He’s too sensitive for that right now, but maybe- you think- hope blooms in your chest. In the future. You could use a ring or-

It’s endearing how reactive he is to you. Not only do his eyes always follow you, but it’s as if his skin’s instinct is to follow you too. 

“Harry, I’m going to untie your hands. Would you like that?”

“Yes-Yes Please.” And god his voice breaks twice around your name -you almost want to take pity on him. 

Almost. 

“I’m going to untie them but I want you to listen to me. Listen to me, okay? I want you to raise them above your head, hold onto the headboard. You’re still not going to touch me. Is that understood?”

“Ye-yes,” he stutters out. And oh you love that. Your golden boy, who has had the world at his feet since the beginning - he’s never been denied things. But this, this he’s doing just for you. And for himself.  

He gasps as you work to undress him, pulling his jeans down the length of the bed, then his briefs. You move to straddle his thigh first, leaning down enough to rub yourself against the tiger inked into his skin. At the touch of his thigh against your clit, you moan - and he moans with you - as if he can’t help himself, can’t bear it- feeling you spread open against his skin and being unable to touch you.

“So wet,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ christ. You’re so wet.”

You allow yourself this moment, a few seconds to rub yourself against him like some kind of cat in heat. Using him until you feel more wetness begin to pool on his skin. You note that his arms are straining with the stretch of the angle he has against the headboard, the veins in his arms a flash of trembling light blue as his fingers shake. 

When finally you feel like you’ve had enough to bear, you swing your leg over his hip and draw yourself down to his pelvis. His face is almost flush with your chest, and you can see the restraint he’s trying to give you - the pupils of his eyes are so wide, and he’s biting into his plush bottom lip, trying not to close the distance between you to suck a beautiful, puffy nipple into his mouth or between his teeth - He needs to be good. He needs to prove to you how good he can be. 

You’re more patient and forgiving this time, spitting on his cock and taking him into your hand. You stroke him a few times, letting the tip of him - just the tip- graze inside of you. 

His eyes and forehead crease at your teasing. 

“You’re so big,” you tell him, and his skin flushes beneath the phrase, his hips bucking up to meet you. 

“B-biggest?” he stutters out and you don’t mistake the nervous lilt at the end of his voice for anything but what it is - a need for confirmation. 

“Biggest. Best I’ve ever had,” you affirm. “Harry. Fuck.”

Pride swells in his chest, making him gasp. 

“God, Harry. That first time we...I didn’t think I’d be able to-. It hurt something good the next morning. Felt like I was aching without you there anymore. - Missed you so much. Missed my baby boy, so much.”

He’s rutting up, hips lifting off the mattress and you feel equally pained for him, your cunt miserably fluttering around nothing too. 

“Fuck. Please,” he begs you, the deepness of his voice making you tremble from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. “Take me. Take me.”

You relent, letting yourself slide down the length of him - and oh, this is nice. A snug fit. Another memory of him gone unjustified. You can feel him in your belly. His cock is so thick and deep, it’s still new but comforting. Like coming home. 

“Feel good, Harry?”

“Yes! Yes. God. Christ. You feel so bloody good-”

You shift so you’re resting against him, the palms of your hands flat against his chest. - But not moving. 

“Please,” he groans, his jaw straining towards the side of the bed. “Please fuck me, princess.”

“What do you want Harry?” you indulge him. You’ve missed his voice just as much as his touch, and you need to hear him say it outloud. 

“Fuck me till I cry. Fuck me, ‘till I’m done for. Christ.” 

His skin flushes like he’s embarrassed, so you lean down to kiss his jaw and mouth. “I will. I will. I’m going to fuck you, Harry.”

You use your hands for balance as you lift your hips, sliding up and down the length of his cock. Moaning loud and gasping hard when he shifts up to meet you thrust for thrust. 

“H-Harry,” you call him, only continuing when his head shifts up, his eyes peering up to meet you and tell you he’s listening. The green intensity of them makes you clench around him. “What if I tied you up? Would you like that?”

His feet are flat against the bed now, his hips shifting up in response - he doesn’t trust his voice right now. He feels so wrecked. All he can say is your name as he impales you on his cock. 

“Or maybe- maybe we’ll go somewhere and you could wear a collar - your collar - tight enough around your neck. Something to take out, huh? Just between the two of us - so you’ll know you’re mine. And when I’m gone again, you won’t ever have a reason to forget.”

Harry could almost choke on his disbelief. Hope and lust seem to twine together and something that feels like hope has been freed from his chest. Your mouth - it’s every fantasy, every secret he’s had - coming alive, coming to fruition hearing it in your voice. 

“I’m going to come on you, going to come on your prick, baby,” you promise him. “Then-then you can come.”

“Yes,” he sputters out in response. “Yes-yes. Use me. Please. Please, love. It’s all I’ve been able to think about-since you’ve been gone. Wanting to make you come.”

There’s no hesitation in his voice, and you feel yourself grow wet at the sound. He knows he’s safe. He knows he has you. His exhibitions are unraveling like a thread. They have been since that first message you sent him. 

He’s rambling now. “Wanna come too. Wanna shoot it in deep. But-need ‘ta feel you first. Need ‘ta feel you quaking around me-Baby, please-”

His eyes go wild when you press your hand against his throat, small tears slipping down his cheeks. Your red fingernails look beautiful against the paleness of his skin. And his knees lift up in a desperate show to fuck into you harder. 

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. Fuck please. Please!”

He’s too lost, plummeting into the safety of the haze you have taken him to - he doesn’t notice the way your eyes narrow in surprise as he gasps from between your fingers. Your heart feels too full, like it might smother your rib cage and you let that feeling take you under. He loves you. He loves you. 

Something overtakes you then. A wave of pride, and something territorial. You feel his words sinking into your bones, and you don’t feel afraid. In fact, you feel something like pride and adoration make a home inside your chest. You’re soaring. He loves you. Your teeth sink into the skin between his neck and shoulder and he groans, a heated sound that makes your skin flush, makes you feel impossibly wetter where you’re holding him between your thighs. It’s a mark to match the ones you have left on his left pec and his thighs, the line on his hip, and your handprints around his throat.. And for days to come, beneath the dim candlelight of his bedroom or the sunlight peeking through his bathroom in the morning - he will marvel at them, but now, now he’s too overcome. 

“Harry,” you rake your nails through the back of his head and grab a fistfull of his hair, harsh and tight. “I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me cum. I want to come for you. You’re so good.”

He chokes as he feels yourself clench around him, swallowing him deep. You’re shaking, tugging his hair, and saying his name - “Harry, you’re perfect. My beautiful-Harry.” And watching you come on his cock, it’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

You kiss him through it all and as you come back down. You’re tired, slick, and still recovering but your hands grasp Harry’s. Your fingers clenched between his long fingers, squeezing tight around his rings and pressing down on his wrists. 

You lean down so your mouth is pressed between the pink wetness of his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. 

“Do you want to come inside me? You can, my sweet- Harry. You can. Only you. Come inside me Harry-.”

He doesn’t need much now. You’re grinding against him, lazy and slow. Licking into his mouth. 

“Come inside you,” he repeats your words, gasping against your face. You feel his arms flexing beneath your touch, his hips pistoning his cock in and out of you. Arousal -both yours and his- dripping between your thighs. It’s a mess, but it’s your mess. “All I want - ‘ta come inside you.”

You press your fingers against his throat again and his eyes roll back into his head again. You push the weight of your hips against his pelvis and then feel it - the first few spurts of his release inside you, warm and comforting-

“Fuck. I’m coming. Y/N. I’m fuck-”

You hold him as it happens, your fingers around his throat only relenting when his hips have stopped stuttering and he’s finally stopped calling your name. 

Spent, you collapse on him. Tapping his hands and wrists and loosening them. - “You can touch me. Harry- you can touch me.”

You stay with him for a long moment, it’s a space of time you both need. He’s coming down from where you took him so high, and you need to feel grounded, tethered next to him in every way you can right now. The bites and marks you’ve left on him pulse and throb, and his skin feels like it’s been lit on fire. He aches in the best way possible. He feels each throb like an ache under the intensity of a magnifying glass.

Your hair acts like a curtain over both of you as you plant soft, wet kisses over his neck, his temple, his face. Kissing away his tears. Your fingernails tracing over the tattoos on his stomach and chest as you tell him how well he did, how good, how hard he made you come. It makes him feel looked after, cherished, adored.

Your skin is a warm and comforting weight against his back, until he feels like he’s floated down again, his feet firmly planted.

It’s only when you’re sure he’s stopped trembling, and his heartbeat has slowed beneath the palm of your hand, that you break the surface of this bubble you’ve created together- 

“Harry?” you call to him. 

“Mmm,” he grunts. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fuckin’ perfect,” he says. “Love?”

“S’okay if I...I’ll be right back. Need to get us both cleaned up, babe.”

“I’ll-” he starts, and you can almost see his tall frame trying to lift from the  bed. 

“You don’t have to do anything, beautiful,” one of your hands comes up to press him back down against the mattress. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, handsome.” You press a wet kiss to his head again to soothe him and laugh as he makes a joke - “Think ya properly fucked my brains out. Can’t move, love.”

You walk to the bathroom on trembling legs and feet, and retrieve a wet washcloth to clean both of you up, only pausing to smile faintly at your reflection in the mirror - you look disheveled and happy. You hurry to grab a water bottle from the fridge and then patter back to Harry’s room and make him take a few sips from it. He stares up at you from beneath the throat of the bottle and you try to ignore the way you feel yourself flush beneath the awe in his eyes. 

Only after you’ve pulled a clean pair of underwear on him, do you join him on the mattress again. You crawl onto the bed knees first, and Harry’s breathing slows as he feels you tug him towards you, your face pressed between both of his broad shoulder blades. 

You listen to the heavy thud of his heartbeat through his back. 

“I love you too,” you tell him quietly, finally. “Love you too.”

He makes a muffled sound, and then though he feels heavy and his body protests against the movement, he turns in your embrace so he can look in your eyes. 

“Heard that, did you?” he tries to laugh. But you feel worry cementing itself in your heart when he doesn’t look up to meet your eyes. 

“Don’t have to say it back, y’know?” he finally says. “Don’t have to say it just because I did. Don’t have to know what to do with it. You can have it- you can have me either way.”

You lean up a little to brush your hands through his hair, and so he can tilt his head up to meet you. The edge of his jaw against the cusp of your breasts, the pink of his mouth sitting so pretty against your chest, his eyes half lidded and still so fucked out. You wonder if he grasps exactly what he’s telling you. 

“I know I love you. And I know I missed you so much, Harry. I want to take care of you.”

His heart thrills at what that could mean. “Want ‘ta take care of you too. Want to make you feel good.”

“You do. You’re the best. I love you and,” you smile a little, fingers brushing over the bite you left on his neck. “You’re mine.”

He laughs a little, drawing a glance at the mark too. His big hand closing over yours. “I love you too. Been wanting to say it for a long time.”

“I’m glad you did right now.” You smile at him, and the anxiety he was feeling seems to falter. He smiles back.

“Did you mean what you were saying?” Harry says, reaching for you even as sleep looms over the edge of his thoughts. “About the choker and the ring and summat?”

“’Course, whatever you want,” you smile at him above the duvet pulled up over both of your shoulders. “Trust me?”

“Know I do,” he smiles, the dimple in his cheek deepening. 

Your face softens as you reach up to trace it with your fingers. “I’m many things, Harry Styles, but I’m not a liar,” you laugh. 

“Know you are,” he laughs back, the gravely sound of it making you feel light and wonderful. Bright and adored. “First and foremost though, you’re my sunflower.”

You seem to beam under the look in his eyes. You pull him close, tucking yourself under his chin, and kissing one of the sparrows on his chest. “I am,” you tell him. “I am.” 

A/N: If you’re wondering, yes, the story and title were both inspired by the song of the same name by 5SOS.

Thank you for reading! Please Like or Reblog and feel free to follow me to keep up with more stories. I’d love to have you here. <3 Or let me know what you think!

[jewish-space-laser]

Miles & Black Coffee Masterlist

You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before….

or

the one with campfire conversations, cabin getaways, and enemies that were never really enemies after all.

Chapters

Part One

Part Two

Part Three (coming soon)

Part Four (coming soon)

Extras

Playlist (coming soon)

[nameawoman]

A Little Love

A/N: here she isss!!! this is the piece that i wrote for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge that was set up by the amazing @andwhenshesays @for-fucks-sake-h and @oh-honey-styles (thank you for organizing all of this!! you’re all legends!!)

extra big thank you to lydia @youresogolden-h and brailey @daydreamsofh for being such sweet beta readers <3

this is my first ever attempt at writing fic, so i hope you enjoy it!

****CONTENT WARNING**** alcohol consumption

Harry is your best friend and your coworker, but you see him as more. Maybe you both just want a little love.

word count: ~8K

**April 25, 2020, 11:15am**

It’s a comfortable spring day in San Francisco. The windows are cracked, letting in sweet smelling fresh air and the moderate bustle of people out and about. Despite the perfect weather to be out at the market or taking a walk in the park, you’re currently at your neighbor’s apartment, slouched on the couch in the living room and in the midst of a New Girl marathon. Or rather, you are in the midst of a New Girl marathon, but your friend has not looked up from the guitar he is restringing for the past fifteen minutes.

You’ve been stealing glances at Harry from the other end of the couch. He has the guitar laying across his lap. He’s able to take all of the strings off and put three new ones on without a problem, but something about the fourth string seems to be giving him a lot of trouble. Every time he gets the string wound up on the tuning key, it snaps loose, like it can’t hold the tension. After several attempts with the same result, Harry sets his string winder on the coffee table and lets out a frustrated huff while scratching his forehead.

Although you know it’s probably best to not make a comment while he’s annoyed, you decide to make one anyway.

Just as he grabs the winder from the coffee table and goes in for another attempt at the string, you blurt out, “I thought the whole point of watching Netflix at your house instead of mine was so you could work and watch at the same time.”

Harry rolls his eyes and slowly cranes his head to look in your direction, “I am watching.”

“Right, so tell me what Miranda has been up to,” you challenge.

Harry lowers his head in concentration, making another attempt at winding up the string on the tuning key, “She’s like… going on a date or something.”

“Miranda isn’t even a character in the show!”

The tuning key once again snaps loose. Harry’s nostrils flare and he mutters a quick “Fucks sake.”

A moment passes where the only sound in the room is the TV. You’re trying to gauge whether or not you’ve actually pissed him off a bit. You decide to bite your tongue and see what he is going to say next.

Harry finally shifts his eyes from the guitar to you, “Obviously I can’t work and watch at the same time.”

You give him a pointed look, “You think?”

“I promise I can finish this project pretty quick, and then I’ll watch, like, four episodes, uninterrupted. I just need to go get some parts so… would you mind pausing it?”

Once the show is paused, Harry gets up from his spot on the couch, gently sets the guitar on the floor, and turns to exit the living room. However, he is stopped short since your legs are making a barricade between the couch and the coffee table. With a mischievous grin on his face, he uses his shin to slowly push your legs away from him so that your feet slide off the end of the table and onto the floor. Your jaw drops in exaggerated offense. Giggles erupt from both of you as he narrowly avoids your attempts to trip him while he steps over your legs and then jogs across the room to his workspace.

A huge benefit of living a couple of buildings away from your best friend is that any given day of the week can be spent like this. The both of you can always be found at either one of your apartments watching hours of Netflix, working on projects, or sharing meals.

Just as you were enjoying the moment of silence that fell onto the room, your phone and Harry’s phone buzz on the coffee table. With a quiet groan, you slowly sit up from the couch to see a text from your boss, sent in a group chat with yourself and Harry.

Would either of you be able to work the closing shift tonight? Sarah called in sick and the rest of the shift leads can’t work today.

Although you and Harry were both looking forward to having a Saturday off, you knew the bar was a little short-staffed this weekend, so you both kind of saw this coming.

“Is that who I think it is?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, Adam’s asking one of us to work the closing shift tonight. Sarah called in sick and I guess Charlotte can’t work today.”

Harry groans as he makes his way back to his previous spot on the couch and plops down with a screwdriver and a plastic bag containing what looks to be a new set of tuning keys in hand.

Harry takes a moment to look around his living room, taking in all of the instrument cases stacked around the small apartment, scratching his jaw in thought. “I mean, I would take it, but I’ve got a lot of projects that have to get done this weekend.”

“I guess that just leaves me then,” you say flatly, sinking further into the couch and staring straight ahead out of the window across the room.

“‘M’ sorry,” Harry says with a light chuckle at your dramatics, “I’ll owe you one.” His offer comes out more like a question.

You look back in his direction to see him with a wide, dimpled grin staring back at you. You know he’s just trying to make you feel better, and it works.

After sending a quick text to your boss letting him know you would be there tonight, you sit up straight and grab the remote from the coffee table. “That’s a really tempting offer. I’ve got a lot of sick days saved up, you know?”

“Heyyyy,” Harry draws out in a playfully offended tone.

You chuckle before asking, “Can we just finish this episode so I can go home and get some rest before work?”

“Yeah I think we can do that.” He sets the screwdriver and plastic bag on the coffee table and leans back on the couch, folding his hands together to rest on his stomach.

You press play on the remote and settle into another day with your best friend.

**April 26, 2020. 1:47am**

About ten minutes until the bar closes, and there are still three large, lively groups hanging around. You and your coworkers have done as many pre-closing tasks as you possibly could, aside from taking the drink glasses straight out of the customers’ hands. Now it just seems to be the longest waiting game ever until you’re officially allowed to kick everyone out.

While you’re all busying yourselves with wiping down counters and straightening chairs, the front door swings open.

Just as you’re about to put on your best customer service face that you can muster, you see a familiar blue and white plaid jacket and fluffy brown curls. Harry is strolling in, surveying the crowd of customers as he’s making his way to where you’re standing at the bar. You see that he is donning a form-fitting grey t-shirt with a bright yellow smiley face on it, light brown high-waisted pants, and a delicate looking pearl necklace. He always seems to be able to effortlessly look put together, even when he is making bold choices.

You look at him with raised eyebrows and ask with exaggerated charm, “Come here often?”

“Oh god.” He laughs at your ill attempt at comedy through a pained expression.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, “Same as always.”

Harry has made it a routine to walk home with you when you’re working the closing shift. Even when you insist that there’s no need for him to stay up so late when he’s not working.

He glances around before looking back at you, “Is there anything I can help with right now?”

You shake your head. “Just waiting for them to leave so we can clean everything.”

“Bollocks,” he mutters before puckering his lips.

You decide to go around the corner of the bar to the prep area where the music controls are. Hopefully the customers will take the hint that it’s time to leave once you lower the volume.

After a few minutes, all of the staff are breathing a collective sigh of relief when one group makes their way to the door and the other two groups shortly follow suit.

By the time you follow the crowd out and you lock the door, it’s 2:05 a.m. Considering how busy it was tonight, you’re counting this as a small victory.

Harry and your other coworkers are going around cleaning up glasses and bottles and taking them back to the sink while you make your way to the register to start your shift lead duties.

Once the tips are divided, you take a look around and see that your coworkers are steadily making their way through the cleaning checklist. With Harry’s help, things are moving along pretty quickly. You pull the first bundle of cash out of the drawer and start counting.

After getting the cash drawer sorted out, and counting out a new one for Monday, you hear your coworker saying your name. “I think we’ve done everything on the cleaning checklist. Is there anything else you need help with?”

“Actually, all I have left to do is inventory. I’m not gonna hold you hostage for that, so you guys are free to head out if you want to.”

Your coworkers are saying goodnight and clocking out shortly after. Once they're gone, you’re left with the faint buzzing of the refrigerators and the light music over the speakers. You turn around to face the shelves of bottles and notice a few that are running low and need replacing. You go down the ‘employees only’ hallway to the back stockroom and grab all the bottles you need. Hugging them to your chest, you make your way back down the hallway. You walk about halfway when a figure jumps out of the supply closet to your right, causing you to jump backwards and let out a scream.

Harry’s howling laughter echoes through the hallway as you try to catch your breath and will your heart to stop racing.

You finally regain some composure and turn to fully face Harry. His laughter has reduced to occasional soft chuckles falling past his pursed lips. If your arms weren’t full, you would most likely be smacking him for scaring the shit out of you.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You do your best to give him death glare, but your voice is now shaking with laughter as well. “You’re lucky I didn’t drop any of this stuff, you idiot.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but you should have seen your face. Holy shit.” He opens his arms and slowly steps toward you to bring you in for a hug.

“Well if you’re so sorry, put these on the shelf for me.” You say as you thrust the bottles into his chest, making him grunt out a laugh.

You walk to the front with Harry trailing behind you. All you have left to do is make a few notes for Adam before finally clocking out. You’ve never been more excited for your head to hit the pillow when you get home.

As you’re making your notes, Harry is pacing about behind you, straightening out all of the bottles on the shelves. He lets out a long observant hum.

“What?”

“Just noticed this guy’s almost empty,” he holds up a bottle of tequila and swirls around what little liquor is left in it. One corner of his mouth turns up before he looks at you, “Enough left for two more shots, probably.”

“Is that so?”

“Y’ wanna find out?”

“I don’t know,” you say as you tilt your head up and tap your chin in thought “I don’t know how I feel about taking shots with people who jump out of supply closets to scare me.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that.” He’s exaggerating and drawing all of his words out as he walks over to you. He wraps his arms around you so that his hands are resting on your left shoulder and he rests the side of his head on the back of yours. “I’m sorry. Please take a shot with me.”

Although it's pointless since he can’t see your face, you roll your eyes in response, “Fine. Pour me one.”

His hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze before he moves away and reaches under the counter then puts two shot glasses onto the bar. He reaches behind him for the nearly empty bottle and pours the perfect amount into each glass. Taking them both in his hands, he extends one to you.

You don’t miss the chuckle that he lets out as you take the glass from him. After giving him a questioning look, you notice a slight blush on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Was just thinking. This,” he gestures to the two of you and the glasses you’re both holding “reminds me of the day you got into the art institute.”

Around this time a year ago, you had spent weeks pouring over your application for the San Francisco Art Institute and months after that waiting to hear anything back. When you got the acceptance email toward the end of your shift at work, Harry was the first person that you told. Just over a year ago, you were standing with Harry behind this same bar when you told him the good news. Your chest filled with warmth at his reaction. He wrapped you in a nearly suffocating hug as he loudly declared, “I told you you had a kick ass portfolio! So fuckin proud of you.”

Right after he released you from the hug, he poured each of you a shot. Harry then made the impromptu decision of doing a bar crawl after you both got off, deeming the two shots “not enough celebration”.

After a night full of slightly over the top celebrating, you were practically dragging Harry home. It wasn’t until you got to his apartment building that he realized he had left his keys and wallet at one of the bars. Not wanting to drag him back across town, you ended up bringing him back to your apartment just around the corner.

It took a lot of coaxing, but you were able to get him to drink a big glass of water before helping him brush his teeth with your spare toothbrush.

You have a lot of vague and fuzzy memories from that night, but there are two that remain crystal clear. One is the moment when you were clumsily leading him to your couch and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Wish I could kiss you.” And the other is the way your stomach dropped and your heart nearly fluttered out of control at his drunken confession.

The conversations about that night always turned into jokes about you being able to handle your liquor better than he could. His comment was never brought up by either of you. You weren’t sure if he would even remember it, or if either of you really wanted to.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “we should never be allowed to celebrate anything after that. We were miserable the next day.”

You lock eyes with him and for a split second there’s something in his eyes that you don’t quite recognize. Like a different kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before this moment.

It’s fleeting, however, because he glances down at your hands and clinks your glasses together. You tilt your heads back at the same time, feeling the burn in your throats and letting out sharp exhales once it’s passed.

Harry takes your glass from your hand and silently goes to the prep area. You hear the sink running as you finish up your notes to your boss and you clock out.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah I just need to get my-” you stop mid-sentence when you turn around to see Harry already holding out your bag that had been hanging up in the prep area. You mutter a ‘never mind’ as you take it from him.

Harry grabs his jacket from the pool table and you stroll to the front door together, turning off lights as you go.

You finally step out into the chilly nighttime air. The only noises are coming from the small scattered groups of people gathering in front of the bars on the block that are just closing.

After locking the doors, you and Harry start trudging along the sidewalk up the steep hill. If you had known that it was going to get so much colder and windier during the night, you would have brought a jacket with you. You fold your arms and grit your teeth as another cold breeze hits you from the front.

You don’t even notice Harry taking off his jacket until he’s holding it in front of your face. You pause your walking for a moment to gently take it from his hand.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“Well I’m not gonna watch you shiver all the way home.”

You frown a bit as you look at the jacket in your hands. You can still feel the warmth from Harry’s body heat on the hand that’s grasping the inside of it. Having that little bit of warmth already makes you feel better, but you hate to think that he’s going to be the one gritting his teeth against the cold.

He says your name through a chuckle and you look up to meet his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just put the jacket on and let’s get you home, yeah?”

**April 26th, 2020. 5:30am**

It should be considered a crime to be wide awake at this hour, considering the small amount of sleep you’ve gotten. The only thing you had the energy to do when you got home last night was change out of your work clothes and fall into bed. You remember glancing at your clock and reading 3:15 a.m. before your eyelids grew heavy and closed.

The reminder of Harry’s drunk confession that you thought was water under the bridge is now flooding your mind as you desperately try to fall back to sleep. You try to push down the memory of his giggles as you made the strenuous effort of finding the switch on your living room lamp while having nearly all of his body weight leaned against you for support. You try to push down the memory of his flushed cheeks in the glowing yellow light when you finally got him settled on your couch. You try to push down the memory of running your fingers through his soft curls and giving his hairline a soft kiss before going to bed. You try to think of literally anything else.

It isn’t until the very first hints of daylight enter your room that you decide to give up.

The floor is cold on your feet as you walk to your bathroom, rubbing your tired eyes.

After a quick shower and putting on your favorite t-shirt and jeans, you feel less sluggish. You focus on going through your kitchen pantry to find something for your growling stomach.

Although you wish that you were still sleeping soundly in your bed, you think of how rare it is to get to see this city both at the dead of night and when it’s slowly starting to wake up. To be able to greet the light in your living room as it dances across the pictures on your walls and you mill about with your bowl of cereal.

The pictures lined up on your walls remind you of the project that you started last week that you need new photos for. You go to your closet and get the bag that holds your digital camera. Your mind is buzzing at the thought of taking it to the park before it gets too crowded.

You put on a jacket and shoes, pull your camera bag over your shoulder, and head out into the chilly Sunday morning.

********************

You round the corner of your block and start making your way down the steep hill, admiring the multicolored houses across the street that are glowing softly in the morning light. A smile spreads across your face as you reach into your bag for your camera and your fisheye lens. Once you’ve captured a few shots that you’re happy with, you move on toward the park.

You’re coming up on Harry’s building, and you instinctively glance up at the second story bay window that you know belongs to his apartment. Because this side of his building is still in the shade at this point in the day, you can see that his light is on.

“What’s he doing up?” you think to yourself. He’s always been an early riser, but considering how late you both stayed up, you would hope that he had been able to get some extra sleep.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, Harry appears in the window. His blinds are wide open, so you can clearly see him stepping up to his record player and delicately placing the needle on the vinyl. A toothbrush hangs out of his mouth.

What your eyes are more drawn to, however, is his choice of clothing, or lack thereof. He’s standing in front of his window in nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of underwear. You knew the t-shirt too well as the one he found at a thrift store years ago and became obsessed with after reading the ‘Treat People With Kindness’ logo on the front. He steps back from the record player and tilts his head back to brush his teeth. You watch as his jaw flexes and is accentuated by the light scruff of facial hair along it.

It’s becoming alarmingly clear to you that you are alone in the middle of the sidewalk, about thirty feet away from your best friend’s window, ogling him as he’s minding his own business. As much as your palms are sweating and your stomach is doing somersaults at the prospect of being spotted, you cannot bring yourself to continue walking. You wouldn’t mind becoming a permanent part of the sidewalk if it meant having this kind of view.

Harry turns and walks away from the window. You finally snap out of your daze and hurry past his window, thankful for the help of the downhill slope to move you along. Once you get to the corner of the block, you stop and lean your back against the building. Lightly smacking your forehead, you mutter out loud to yourself, “What the hell was that?”

********************

The trip to the park turned out to be a perfect way to spend the morning. You ended up taking a lot of pictures of murals and flowers before the park started to get too busy.

With your favorite album playing through your headphones, your mind is now buzzing with the excitement of having new photos to edit.

Once you cross the street, you’re now standing on the corner of your block. One way would lead you once again past the window to Harry’s apartment. The other way would help you avoid another potentially awkward sighting, but was much longer and usually includes lines for overcrowded restaurants.

Keeping your head down, you continue walking straight ahead in the same direction that you came from.

As you’re hiking up the hill, you suddenly hear a voice that you know is not coming through your headphones. You turn your volume down and listen to your surroundings. Plain as day, someone behind you shouts your name. You rip your headphones out and whip around to see Harry waving at you from his window.

“Hey! You wanna come up for breakfast?”

Your feet are firmly planted to the sidewalk, much like they were about an hour ago when you stood in the same spot and ogled this man.

You opened your mouth, not knowing what to say, and pathetically jabbed your thumb in the general direction of your apartment. “Actually I… I-I was gonna-”

“I’ve got coffee from Trieste,” he says in a sing-song tone.

You internally roll your eyes and curse him for knowing that you can never deny coffee from your favorite place in town. Plus, wracking your brain for a good excuse to be on your way is becoming difficult due to the hunger pains starting up in your stomach. That bowl of cereal is only holding you over for so long.

You look up at his dimpled face and relax your shoulders, “Okay, yeah. Yeah I’ll come up.”

“I’ll unlock the door for you!” is the last thing you hear before he shuts his window and you make your way to the stairs.

You climb up to the second story and turn down his hallway. When you’re standing in front of his door, you can hear music playing.

You open the door and you’re met with the sounds of trumpets. Harry has Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer” playing on his record player. He has it just loud enough to where it won’t annoy any of his neighbors, but it still fills every corner of the living room. It’s not the first time you’ve walked into a similar scene here. You know this to be one of his favorite songs to play in the morning.

You close the door behind you and take in the state of the room as you walk through. The instrument cases are a little more organized than they had been yesterday. Smaller ones are stacked up next to his workstation and the larger ones are stacked up in the corner next to his couch. His laptop sits open on the coffee table and a haphazard stack of blank paper repair tags sat next to it.

The camera bag on your shoulder is now starting to feel heavy, so you plop down on the couch. Your ears perk up at the sound of Harry singing along with the record from the kitchen.

“You can have an aeroplane flyin’. If you bring your blue sky back.”

Following the smell of coffee, you walk over to the doorway of the small kitchen. Harry is  standing at the counter. Thankfully he is not wearing the outfit that you saw him in earlier. He’s wearing brown trousers and a cream colored flannel with black and green stripes. He also has on his signature pair of scuffed up black vans.

There is a small table and two chairs in the corner of the kitchen next to the window with a vase of sunflowers and a couple of books sitting on it. You walk over to the table to inspect the books more closely. Art as Therapy by Alain de Botton & John Armstrong and The Course of Love, also by Alain de Botton. Before you get the chance to flip them over and read the descriptions, Harry clears his throat.

“Coffee’s ready.” He sets the kettle down on the counter and dances his way over to the cupboard where he keeps his mugs.

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face, admiring his ability to always be so energetic in the mornings.

He takes the filter out of the chemex and chunks it in the trash before pouring the coffee into two mugs. The way he turns with a mug in each hand, extending one to you, is extremely reminiscent of last night. After you take the mug from his hands, he scoots past you into the living room. The volume of the music lowers to a faint background noise before he appears again in the kitchen.

“So,” he pauses to reach into the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and setting it on the counter, “what are you doing up so early? Figured you’d be in bed till noon. Seemed pretty exhausted last night.” He takes a long sip of coffee, waiting for your response.

Suddenly you’re doing everything to not look in his direction. Your eyes are shifting from the table to the flowers to the mug in your hands.

“Um… yeah I woke up at like 5:30 for some reason and couldn’t go back to sleep. So I just decided to take a walk with my camera.” Your last few words echo from your mug before you take a big sip.

Harry clicks his tongue. “M’ sorry, that sucks. Did you at least see anything interesting?”

You involuntarily gasp at his question, causing the coffee to go directly down the wrong pipe. Several harsh coughs erupt from your chest.

Harry acts quickly, muttering a quick “shit” before taking the cup from your hand and setting it on the table along with his. He steps behind you and you hear a chair scoot out from the table. His hands gently wrap around your upper arms, prompting you to have a seat. You fold over in the chair, gripping the edge of the table for stability. After a few more strong coughs, you’re finally able to catch your breath.

Harry’s fingertips rubbing soothing circles on your back sends electricity up and down your spine.

His hand slides off of your back as he steps away from you, “Alright? Want some water?” He’s already walking over to his cabinet and pulling out a glass before you respond.

Once you clear your throat, you croak out, “Yeah I’m fine, that’s fine.”

He sets the glass on the table in front of you, turns back to the carton of eggs on the counter and starts cracking some into a pan.

After taking some sips of your water, you say, “So I was going to ask you the same question. What are you doing up so early?”

“Well, funny enough, I also had to wake up around 5:30. I’ve got a client coming to pick up her trumpet this morning and I had to get everything sorted and clean up a bit before she got here.”

Nodding your head, you tease, “Oh yeah, it looks really good in there. Was starting to forget what your floor looked like.”

Your heart leaps at the sound of Harry’s belly laugh. “Wow. Wowwwwww. Already giving me a hard time. At this hour. Jesus.”

You laugh at his exaggerated reaction while he simply shakes his head.

There’s a knock at the front door. Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Must be her, actually. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to do those?” You stand up from your spot at the table and gesture to the pan.

“Sure, that’d be great, thanks,” he says over his shoulder when he exits the kitchen.

A moment later, you hear the sound of a woman’s voice greeting Harry. It sounds like they’re just standing in his entryway because you can’t really make out what either of them are saying.

Meanwhile, you go about scrambling eggs, making toast, and getting out plates and silverware. By the time Harry is back in the kitchen, you’re already starting to put everything on the table.

You pick up the books from the table and hold them up to Harry, “Where do you want these?”

“Oh uh, I’ll just put those on the coffee table.” When you hand them off to him, he holds up the copy of Art as Therapy. “This one’s for you though, make sure you take it with you today.”

You tilt your head in question.

“Just thought it looked like something you would enjoy. Saw it when I was looking for this other one.” He holds up The Course of Love.

Before you could say anything, he’s disappeared again into the living room.

Once you’re both sitting at the table and digging into your breakfast, Harry asks, “What are you doing tonight?”

You squint your eyes at him. “I mean, I don’t really have anything planned. Why do you ask?”

“Well that client that was just here offered me two free tickets to her jazz band’s show tonight as, like, an extra ‘thank you’.” He shrugs, “Might be fun to go to.”

With a straight face, you reply, “I can’t, I’m booked tonight.”

You stare at each other for a minute in silence trying not to crack a smile, until you both start snorting.

“I know you’re free because the bar is closed and Sarah is still sick.” Harry tosses his fork on his plate and leans back in his chair like he’s just won an argument.

You mirror him by crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “What if I have plans with Mitch? Sarah’s boyfriend?”

Harry furrows his brows and looks at you, baffled, “I know who Mitch is, why’d you have to say it like that?”

“Because I knew it would throw you off.”

“Alright, I’ll just take Mitch to the concert then.”

You drop your jaw and lightly kick his leg under the table. “What time is this concert?” You ask, slipping out of your teasing tone.

“It’s at seven.” Harry leans forward and lifts his coffee from the table, holding it up to you.

You grab yours from the table and clink it with his before finishing off the remainder of your coffee.

***********************

Back at your apartment, you’re leaning back in your chair at the desk in your living room, waiting for your pictures from today to upload on your computer. Your hands run over the smooth blue and green cover of Art as Therapy. In the few years that you have known Harry, you’ve swapped countless book recommendations back and forth, and the bookshelves in your apartments are constantly changing due to all of the borrowing you both do. You’ve even gotten each other books for birthdays and other holidays. This is the first book that he has bought for you completely unprompted. You hadn’t even heard of the author until today, so it’s not like he heard you mention in passing wanting to read his books.

You flip the book over and read the description, then flip to the first few pages to see a statement about the authors. “Their proposal is that certain great works of art offer clues on managing the tensions and confusions of everyday life and that, approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.”

Quickly shaking yourself out of your own thoughts, you check the progress on your photos. Approximately 20 minutes remaining.

You huff, slap the book closed, and toss it on the desk before getting up and walking to your room. There’s an old shoe box on one of your shelves that you like to go through when you’re feeling sad or having a weird day, which feels about right at this moment.

You plop down on your bed and set the box in front of you, opening up the lid. The rush of nostalgia and warmth that comes over you when going through this box is overwhelming sometimes. It’s filled with miscellaneous photos that you’ve taken on your film camera over the past few years. There are some that capture your favorite buildings and murals throughout the city. There are a lot from when you went to the pride celebrations last year. The majority of the pictures in the box capture candid moments of your friends and family. These kinds of pictures are the ones that remind you of why you love photography so much and even after getting high marks on your work for the institute, these are the ones that you end up feeling the most proud of.

You see your friends from out of state standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge from the time they paid you a surprise visit. Another one shows your cousin at his college graduation. There’s one of your friend and coworker, Sarah, and her boyfriend Mitch from the day you and Harry helped them move into their new apartment, proudly holding up the keys, smiling from ear to ear.

And then there’s quite a lot of Harry. Harry playing pool at a bar across town, Harry at the beach tossing a football with Mitch, a kind of blurry one of him going crazy at an Ariana Grande concert. You laugh out loud when you find the one of him proudly wearing your dress during a drunken game of truth or dare, and the one of him making a ‘kissy’ face at you in those obnoxious Gucci sunglasses that he wore for pretty much an entire summer. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve experienced together until you go back and look at these pictures.

You’ve been flipping through them pretty quickly, but you come across one that makes you freeze. It’s from your friend’s birthday party a few months ago. You got someone to take a picture of yourself with Sarah and Mitch, but Harry decided to jump in. In the picture, Mitch is in the middle of you and Sarah, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, and Harry has his arms hugged tight around your middle and his cheek is pressed to yours. It could be seen as a form of affection, if his face wasn’t covered in icing from your friend’s birthday cake. The photo is perfectly timed to capture everyone’s shocked laughter.

Just by looking at this photo again, you can feel his smile against your cheek and his arms holding you close. It’s a feeling you’ve been wanting more of ever since that night. Maybe that’s the ‘intimate question’ you’ve been asking yourself- Do you really want more with Harry?

**April 26th, 2020. 6:58pm**

You’re sure nobody on the street could miss you and Harry. After saying quick ‘thank you’s to the uber driver, you grab hands and start jogging toward the entrance of the SFJAZZ Center- a three story building with windows wrapping all the way around. The show is supposed to start in two minutes. You would have arrived much earlier if Harry hadn’t left the tickets on his kitchen table. You’re both dodging and weaving through people on the sidewalk, you in your favorite floral dress and Harry in a bold green suit jacket.

Once in the lobby, you both reduce your pace to a brisk walk and you readjust the bag on your shoulder. Harry’s hand is still holding yours as you’re both scanning the lobby for the right place to go. You spot a couple of employees closing doors labeled ‘main hall seating’.

“Over here,” you say, pulling Harry along with you.

Luckily, you’re able to catch the ushers in time to show them your tickets and be let in. The expansive auditorium is filled with the sound of chattering people and musicians warming up their instruments.

Thankfully, your seats are in a row toward the back and to the left of the stage, so you don’t have to make too big of a scene when scooting past people. Right when you settle in, the house lights dim, the chatter rapidly dies down, and the band on the stage goes silent.

The lull is soon replaced with applause when a woman walks out and stands center stage. She introduces herself as the director of programming and welcomes the audience. “Thank you all for being here tonight. Your support means so much to this center as we continue to make music and art and do what we love to do.” She pauses to hold up a booklet in her hands. “As you may have seen in your program, tonight’s performance is a special one.”

For the first time, you glance around the room and notice almost everyone but you and Harry has a program in their lap or held in their hands.

The woman on stage continues. “Some of you may know this, and some of you may not, but April is the birth month of American jazz singer, Billie Holiday. So, to honor her legacy, this lovely band sitting behind me has put together arrangements of some of her greatest hits.” Applause fills the room once again.

“Some of the performances tonight will feature vocalists and some will be done with the band only, so I hope everyone will find something they enjoy. Now, without further ado, I present to you A Little Love, with Billie Holiday.”

There is applause for a third time, but your hands are suddenly too heavy in your lap to join in. As the director exits the stage and another woman, presumably the vocalist, takes her place, your mind is reeling at the situation you’re currently in. How have you wound up at a jazz concert dedicated to love, that you decided to attend on a whim, with your best friend that you suddenly have overwhelming feelings for?

All of the subtle signs and notions of feelings you have had over the years have turned into blaring alarms, and they’re all pointing to one person. The man sitting right next to you, who is also sitting stock still in his seat.

There’s a drumroll from the stage followed by a light and smooth saxophone solo that brings you back into the moment. The vocalist begins the captivating first verse of Billie Holiday’s You Go to My Head.

You go to my head

And you linger like a haunting refrain

And I find you spinning round in my brain

Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne

You slowly sink about three inches down into your seat. You wish you had a program now so that you could at least use it to fan your face. You reach your hand up to dab at your forehead.

At the same time Harry takes a deep breath and lightly trills his lips while itching the bridge of his nose.

The vocalist continues to sing the lyrics that are hitting you directly in the gut.

The thrill of the thought

That you might give a thought to my plea

Casts a spell over me

Still I say to myself “Get a hold of yourself”

Can’t you see that it never can be

You glance around the auditorium as much as you can without turning your head in Harry’s direction, wondering if anyone else is feeling the temperature rise or the tension that seems to be wrapped around the both of you.

You go to my head

With a smile that makes my temperature rise

Like a summer with a thousand Julys

You intoxicate my soul with your eyes

Though I’m certain that this heart of mine

Hasn’t the ghost of a chance in this crazy romance

You go to my head

Your mind is reeling yet again at the situation you’re in. This must be some kind of elaborate prank that the universe is pulling on you. You’re half expecting a spotlight to fall on you and Harry that nobody in the room would even question.

The feeling doesn’t lift as the concert goes on. Soulful songs about a lover’s eyes, falling in love, how easy it is to live when you’re in love. Even where there is not a vocalist, you seem to know what the songs are implying.

Something that comes up in your rapid stream of thoughts is the author’s note you read earlier, “approached in the right way, art can help us answer both the intimate and the everyday questions we all ask ourselves.” You ask yourself the question again: Do you want more with Harry?

You think about the pictures of the times you’ve spent together. Crazy shifts at the bar, days in the park, breakfasts, dinners, late nights staying up talking about god knows what. You know the answer. You’ve always known the answer.

It seems like your heart has caught up with your thoughts, because it’s pounding in your chest.

Halfway through the final song of the night, you decide to steal a glance at Harry. Slowly turning your head, you peek through the corner of your eye.

A quick jolt of electricity runs through your entire body when you see that Harry already has his eyes on you. You turn your head back to the stage, but you can still feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head.

When thunderous applause breaks out after the final song, Harry turns his head back to the stage as you both limply clap along with the audience.

******************

This is the most quiet car ride of your life. There isn’t even any music being played in the background. The only words that have been exchanged between you and Harry since the concert ended were when he asked you if it was okay for the uber to just drop you both at your building and you answered with a simple ‘sure’.

There are so many feelings swirling around in you that you don’t know what to do with, and you definitely don’t want all of them to spill out in this stranger’s car, so you keep your jaw clenched as you look out of the window.

The car comes to a stop outside of your building and you both mutter ‘thank you’s as you climb out. You both silently make your way through the lobby, up the stairs, and down the hallway to your door.

Just last night you were making the same trip. You were making light jokes about wanting to steal Harry’s jacket and he was joking back, accusing you of wanting him to freeze to death. You had to remind each other not to laugh so loud so you wouldn’t disturb anyone. Now the only sound in the hallway is your shoes on the floor.

Once you reach your door, you open your bag and start digging for your keys. “Thanks, um, thanks for inviting me. It was a really good show.” You find your keys and push them into the lock before turning your eyes to Harry.

He has one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… Yeah it was... it was fun. Glad you could come with me.” He moves his hands from their places and awkwardly moves his arms out for a hug.

You smile and let out a sharp exhale through your nose at the awkwardness of this whole situation, but you gladly reciprocate the hug. Your arms completely wrap around each other, your hands tightly gripping his jacket. You can smell his cologne, like ginger and honey and cedar, and it’s making your head spin. You embrace for a few seconds and then release each other.

Harry sighs, “Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Harry shoves his hands in his pockets and slowly takes a few steps to turn away.

You turn the key in the lock, then turn your head to watch Harry take his first few steps away from you. You don’t want him to get any further.

“Harry?”

He stops and turns around to face you. “Yeah?”

You cannot believe the question that’s coming to your mind, but it’s the only thing that’s been coherent enough to put into words. You gulp and take a deep breath before asking, “Do you… do you still wish you could kiss me?”

You watch about three different emotions pass across Harry’s face. His mouth opens, his head tilts to the side, then his mouth closes and his eyes shift to the floor.

You feel a flood of regret. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. That was stupid. He doesn’t remember. Just play it off.

You know your face is flushed with embarrassment as you speak softly, “I’m sorry. I just. That night that you were really drunk and I brought you back here, you said that you wish- that you wished y-”

Hearing Harry say your name stops your rambling. “Don’t be sorry. I know what I said.” He’s eyeing you cautiously and taking a couple of steps toward you again. “And… yeah. I still wish I could kiss you. Felt that way for… a while now.”

Tears are brimming your eyes as you look into his, trying to absorb what he’s just said. Then it’s almost like the floor beneath you tilts in his direction, nudging you to move forward until you’re standing directly in front of him. You can smell his cologne again.

With your eyes still locked into his, you slowly raise your hands to place them on the back of his neck, thumbs stroking the corners of his jaw.

After taking a shaky breath, you whisper, “I wish I could kiss you, too.”

Harry gulps and shifts his eyes down to your lips. He takes a deep breath through his nose before you feel his hand lightly grip your waist and his other hand takes a similar position on your neck.

You both stand there for a few breaths, eyes roaming over each other’s faces.

You start to lean in and then stop about half way and close your eyes. You’re both just waiting to see who will close the gap.

After a moment, you feel Harry’s grip on your neck and waist tighten and you feel him leaning in. Then his lips are on yours. They’re on yours again and again. You tilt your heads to deepen the kisses and he takes a step toward you. You follow his lead until your back is pressed against your door.

As much as it pains you to do so, you have to stop so you can catch your breath. You reach one of your hands into his hair and lightly pull him away. Both of you are breathing  in sync.

Once your breathing is evened out, you lock eyes with Harry. Your heart flutters when you exchange shy but knowing smiles and his thumb gently strokes your cheek.

After clearing your throat, you move your hand to your door knob. “Do you want to come in?”

Harry glances at your hand then returns his eyes to yours. He purses his lips and takes a sharp breath in. “I just want to know what you want.”

What just happened a few seconds ago already seems monumental to you. After the emotional roller coaster of this day, you’re not sure whether or not you’re ready for more tonight.

You take your hand from the doorknob and run it along his shoulder to return it to its previous position on his neck. “Honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted from today.” You watch as Harry nods his head in understanding. “I think all I want tonight is to hold you,” you notice the softness in his eyes, the same softness that you noticed for a fleeting second in the bar last night. “And keep kissing you.” This makes a lopsided smirk pop onto his face. “And I want to talk in the morning. About us.”

Harry leans in and presses a sweet peck to your lips. “I think we can do that.”

*******************

If anyone would have told you that your day was going to end with you and Harry in your bed, your head on his chest, and him running his fingers soothingly over your back, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“Harry?” you say softly, just as your eyelids are starting to get heavy.

His fingers stop for a moment, “Yeah?”

Thinking over the sequence of events that led you to where you are now, you start to erupt into sleepy giggles. “Did you know that the performance was gonna be,” you pause, trying to find the right word, “that?”

Harry lets out a deep belly laugh and when you glance up at him, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t have planned that if I tried.”

Before you know it, you’re both laughing uncontrollably, recounting the insane timing of the whole situation.

Harry rolls to his side so that he’s facing you and places a lingering kiss on your lips. “I’ll have to tell that client that any repairs she wants are on the house now.”

You throw your head back laughing and he pulls you into his chest, smothering your neck with kisses before resting his chin on top of your head.

If this is all you could have for the rest of your life, just a little love from each other, you would never want anything more.

************************************************************

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[gucciwins]

Always Be Your Friend

Word count: 8990

 It’s easy to love your best friend but it’s not easy being in love with them.  Harry and Y/N became friends from the moment they first met. Will they take a chance and confess their feelings or will they watch each other fall in love with someone else.  *warning a mention of sexual harassment in the story*

Jeff had invited her to a small gathering at his house so that she could meet a few of his friends being new to the area and all, but when she arrived, she wasn't expecting a backyard full of people mingling and drinking beers. She's counted over twenty people, and she's yet to find Jeff. 

Y/N was about to get herself water from a red cooler when he finally spotted her. Jeff's quick to apologize but promises that everyone is kind, and his girlfriend went a little overboard with inviting her friends. She brushes him off and lets him know she'll be fine. 

If only she believed that lie.

She decides to leave but stays when she finds a small path that leads her to an opening, and she's met with a beautiful view of the sunset. She sits on white clean bench and enjoys the colors the sky is painting. She's lost in thought that she fails to hear the footsteps approaching her, but she doesn't startle when she hears a crunch of leaves breaking her of her trance.  

Her gaze is locked on Gucci loafers, which she assumes are paired with Gucci socks. She slowly starts to move her gaze up to his body, a small smile on her face as she sees the purple flared pants (later on would learn he calls them trousers and soon she would as well). As her gaze reaches his face, she can't help thinking how nice the white shirt he wears shows off his tanned skin nicely. She doesn't let her eyes linger too long on his tattoos, but she thinks they are beautiful. Her favorite part of his outfit might be the blue bandana wrapped around his neck. She finally meets his eyes and decides right then and there that green is her new favorite color. The sunset makes them appear lighter. He's staring at her with a smile on his face, dimples on full display. 

Y/N looks down at herself; she's wearing a wide-leg jumpsuit, a rust color, and if she's being honest, she looks really good. Thankfully, no one wants to make a first impression under-dressed; at least that was what her mother taught her. 

She doesn't turn to look at him anymore and keeps her eyes in front of her. 

"Never seen you before, around from here?" His voice was slow and soothing. His accent is sweet as honey. 

He really surprised her with the accent, that might just have convinced her he must be the most perfect human from his tall, lean stature to the brown curls to the captivating green eyes. 

"I'm new. Jeff is my friend." She pauses. "Acquaintance met him a week ago at work, and we hit it off. I've been here two weeks officially." 

"Jeff's great, although his girl is quite popular."

She laughs and agrees with him. 

"Sorry, I'm Harry." He approaches her with his hand stretched out.

She smiles when Harry repeats her name back as they let go of each other's hands. He then takes a seat, and they fall into easy conversation. 

"I really love your tattoos, do you get them done around here?" She asks, genuinely curious eyes locked on the beautiful mermaid on his arm. 

"Most, done at this shop, a buddy of mine works at. He's really talented, and I trust him. A few, I've gotten when I was traveling."

She hums to let him know she's listening. 

"Got lots more than just these, but might be inappropriate to undress in front of a stranger." He says honestly, not wanting her to be uncomfortable. 

"Here I thought we were becoming friends," she teases.

He laughs, shocked at her response. She smiles, glad they share the same type of humor.

"Got any of your own?" 

"I've got two, but one no one knows about." She answers him honestly.

"I've got three stars behind my right ear." She pauses and looks at him before crossing her left foot across her thigh. She moves her jumpsuit higher and there on her ankle is a peach. "I got a peach when I was eighteen because I wanted a tattoo, and the reason I got a peach is still unknown to me to this day." 

"Peaches are sweet. So are you."

She blushes but stills looks at him. "That's your first impression of me."

He nods. "You could have ignored me and left or not even answered me or worse answered like a jerk for not knowing your name already but instead let a strange walk into your bubble." 

"I like you, Harry. Think the accent won me over."

"Oh, really," He smirks. "Wasn't the dimples or piercing green eyes."

"Eh.." She shrugs

She laughs, and Harry can't help but join her.

On a bench watching a sunset, Harry and Y/N become friends.

~

"Harry!" She screams as she walks through the backdoor. "I've run out of almond butter."

"Broke into my house, why?" Harry replies as he walks into the kitchen, hair wet. He's dressed in grey sweats and a black hoodie. He's got scruff growing, and as much as she loves to tease him about it, Harry knows how much she loves it. 

"I didn't break in." She's spreading Harry's almond butter onto her slice of toasted bread. "The back door was open which means come right in." 

Harry's standing there watching her take a bite of her toast. "Peach, how are you already eating when you've been here less than five minutes?" He narrows his eyes and looks at his unplugged toaster that sits next to his coffee machine that is surprisingly already brewing. "Did you run here with it in your hand?"

She scratches her neck lightly, index finger dragging slowly. "Umm...of course not."

"Right, you wouldn't because you live a thirty minute walk away. Running only means you'd get more germs on it."

She rolls her eyes at Harry's concern. "Are you hungry, I'll make you something. I have time on my hands before I have to run back home." 

Harry grins, allowing her to drop the topic and quickly agrees because he adores her cooking. "I'll have your egg whites special, please."

She nods, kissing his forehead before moving to the fridge to get the things out she'll need. Harry stares at her and thinks back to when he first met her. He thinks it's insane he went so long without her in his life. Harry owes it all to Jeff that he kept bringing her to their outings when she first moved here. Harry will never admit that to him, he doesn't want to have to name his first child after him. 

Harry furrows his brow in confusion. It's Saturday, and she always stays the weekend with him.

"You usually stay over?" He questions as she hands him his plate. "Why do you have to leave?"

"Cassie set me up on a date." She looks down at her nails and frowns seeing a few chipped and she knows it is from all the cleaning she has been doing at home because work has been slow and she needed to keep busy. "I'm going to cancel it." She decides instantly. 

She takes off her sweater and settles herself on the chair next to Harry taking a drink of his coffee. She hums at the sharp taste, one she learned to appreciate after being his friend for years. 

"Just like that," Harry is trying his best to hide his excitement but knows he's failing miserably.

"My nails look atrocious. It's like I'd be showing up naked" She physically shivers at the thought. 

"We can do face masks and each other's nails." Harry says after taking back his coffee, knowing she'd drink it all without meaning to.

She lights up at Harry's suggestion. 

"Yes, oh, can I use the candy apple one?" she asks her eyes locking with his and Harry melts in his seat at the innocent look she's giving him. He doesn't remember a time he's told her no.

As soon as she hears the word yes come out of his mouth, she's racing up the stairs to gather up the things they'll need. 

He hears a thump upstairs and is about to make his way up when he hears an "I'm good." He laughs and washes his plate before heading to the living room. Harry turns the tv on and decides on parks and rec because it's their favorite to watch together.  

"I got you black with glitter. Starry starry night is a beautiful color." She's admiring it as she walks down the steps with her arm full of things they might need, like the nail polish remover they'll need to take off her chipped color. "I know you were hiding this from me, which is why I will be using it on you." 

Harry takes some things from her and sets it on his old coffee table. "I got it a few days ago. Honestly, bought it with you in mind." He confesses. What he doesn't admit is that when he saw it, it reminded him of the first time they laid in his backyard and although that night wasn't clear enough she told him about her favorite constellations and that if she was an artist she'd draw the moons and stars every night. Looking back, Harry can say that is the moment he fell in love with her. Not that he knew that then, no, he realized much later.  

The smile on her face has his heart beating out of his chest. Harry swears she's going to kiss him. She leans in plants a big kiss on his cheek, which still makes his cheeks go pink, but his heart drops because he really wanted her lips on his. 

She pouts when she catches Harry staring at her. "You're staring because I smell right." She narrows her eyes at him as if judging him for making her self-conscious. "If I go shower, will you let me borrow some clothes?" 

Harry knows she has more than a change of clothes in her own drawer in his bedroom, but he agrees, and she's off once more up the stairs.

~

"Are you ready?" She screams walking in through the front door.

Harry had invited her out for Tuesday brunch seeing as she had the morning off, and he thinks he has the right to not be ready. He promised he'd be waiting for her on his sofa so that as soon as she walked in, they'd be off. She walks into the living room as if it's her first time there and smiles at the pictures he has scattered around. She finds a book on the couch and frowns because, of course, it's another Bukowski book. She walks up the stairs to his bedroom and walks in expecting him to be in bed, but instead, she finds him in a 'Women are smarter' t-shirt and a blanket on his lap, and she knows he's got nothing underneath. Harry's got the right earphone in, he's sitting at a makeshift table he made in his walk-in closet talking to his laptop. She assumes he's meeting with a client and is about to walk out when something catches her eye. It's a photo of her on his nightstand. Harry looks at her from the corner of his eye. He starts to fidget with a ring on his middle finger. He focuses back on his client, but he's not really listening, too busy admiring her. She doesn't feel Harry's wandering eyes on her back, but Harry knows he's been staring too long when his client repeats himself.

She approaches slowly as if the item would jump at her any second. She picked up a photo of herself from Los Angeles when they were there together in Autumn. She's smiling brightly at the cinnamon buns they made together when they were helping Jeff move into his house, and she told him she had to test out his oven. She didn't even know he took a picture of her. She's about to turn it over, but it's snatched out of her hand. 

"Hey," she pouts. 

"It's mine. Stop being so snoopy."

"I wouldn't be snoopy if you didn't leave your things out. I look really pretty there. I can see why you want me there to look at every morning."

Harry turns around to hide his blush. "You're there because I sent it to a friend of mine because I think you would be a good match." Harry wants to punch himself because out of all the lies, he had to pick that one. 

She stares at him with wide eyes. She doesn't want a date with a stranger. 

The person she wants to date is standing in front of her. Now, she definitely knows he doesn't like her because he's setting her up with someone else.

 "Is he tall?" Is her first question stopping herself from asking a second. 

"An inch or two shorter than me." 

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, that just won't do," she says dramatically. "My Flynn Rider is hmm..your height, or he could be taller. I don't mind." 

Harry chuckles. "He's a fan of ice cream and loves Sudoku." he states two of her favorite things. 

She narrows her eyes at him. 

"Is he a big handsome boss like you?" She jokes.

"He works in marketing in a company that works with us." 

"Marketing, I'm already bored to death." Harry gives her a pleading look. "I'll go, but only if you promise to get Anne to send me her recipe for her mince pie because I want to impress her this Christmas."

"Christmas is months away."

"I know, but I- I tried making some to practice and get better, and it was a disaster. Maybe because I'm not British, it's bad. I want Anne to like me." she says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Peach, my mum loves you. I can assure you. Those sticky buns you made on boxing day were all mum talked about for weeks after you left to spend new years with your brother's."

"Those were good. I haven't been able to make sticky buns that good. It must be the ingredients, we might just have to move to Europe, H."  

"I'll book the flight Peach, just let me know when." 

She walks out, so Harry doesn't see the blush on her face. She really loves this man and might die if she doesn't tell someone soon. 

~

"I brought ice cream!" She yells, walking in. 

She stops in the kitchen but doesn't see him or hear him. She checks his office, and it's empty, the same as his bedroom. She thinks he might be late getting out and starts The Great British Bake Off  because their conversation from days ago is still in her head. Also, it's her comfort show after a shitty date

She hears the door unlocking and is grateful because two hours she had been waiting for him. She stands up eager to greet Harry, but as she turns around, she's met with a pretty blonde she's never met. She's dressed in a black dress that reaches mid-thigh hugging her curves in all the right places with red heels, and the only thing missing is the matching red lipstick. 

Harry walks in with his hand on her back, and that's where she finds the blonde's missing lipstick. It's smudged all over Harry's lips. It’s obvious they had done a lot of kissing. She does her best to hide her shock.

The room is quiet, she thinks she can hear her heartbreaking. She reacts in a matter of seconds. Eyes wide and in panic, but she makes sure to move quickly. She shoots the girl a quick smile. She turns the tv that was on mute off, thankful to have already thrown her trash away.

"What are you doing here?" Harry practically screams at her. "Did you ditch the date?"

She's panicking, and if she doesn't stay calm, she might just pass out or better yet scream at Harry for sending her on the worst date of her life. She already let Sydney know what happened on the date but assured Syd she'd be fine at Harry's. 

Oh, how wrong she was. 

"I'm sorry it didn't go as planned. I'm leaving now." She picks her shoes up at the door and walks out with them in hand. 

Harry follows her out and is hot on her heels. 

"Did you ditch him for ice cream and movies at my house?" Harry's voice getting louder.

Harry's upset. She hasn't seen him this upset since the time she called Harry and told him she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire and how she didn't have a spare because she kept forgetting going to the shop and buying a new one. He had let a tow truck take her home and proceeded to yell at her when she went to his house two days later. 

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll send him a fruit basket." 

She's in her car and in the next second driving down the street. 

She wants love but not like this, it isn't supposed to hurt like this.

~

Harry wakes up at seven to get ready for his daily run with his Peach when he sees a few texts on his phone. 

Sydney: I know you had good intentions but no more dates for her.

Sydney: Please, just do anything she wants. Give her all the ice cream she wants. 

Sydney: I'm assuming it all went well, and she's still sleeping because she hasn't answered my messages.

Harry's confused and does the only logical things and calls her. 

"Syd, what are your texts about?"

"The date you sent her on. She was supposed to tell you about it once she got to your house."

"I wasn't home. Peach said she ditched him for ice cream and movies at my house." He says, not mentioning the part where he screams at her. 

Syd sighs clearly hearing the strain in his voice, "I know there's some information missing there, but I won't push because she's my friend first. The dude basically met her and said her outfit wasn't revealing enough, but she could make up for it the next time. Then during dessert, he moved to sit next to her instead of across. He tried to put his hand up her dress. She told him to stop." Syd paused. "Then he tried it again, and she jumped up from her seat. She almost bumped into the waitress but he grabbed her waist too tight to let that happen. The waitress saw how upset she was and had the hostess and security walk her to her car.  She walked out crying because she just wanted to punch him but didn't want to cause a bigger mess." 

Harry doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry. He does feel anger pouring through his veins and knows next time he sees this guy he's going to do more than yell. 

"She left last night saying she ditched and that she was sorry. I'm such an idiot." Harry knows Syd will yell at him for what he did next. "I yelled at her because I brought a girl home and she was there. I practically told her the date happened, so she'd give me space."

"You suck. I thought you were better than that. That girl is the kindest person on this planet. She loves you and she always puts your happiness in front of hers."

Harry knows she isn't coming, but a small part of him holds hope she will still show up for their run together.

He sits on his back steps, waiting for her. Texts her multiple times, leaves voicemails. Yet nothing in return. 

Peach: I'm busy.

Harry: Come over, please.

Peach: I can't. My boss asked me to come in. A presentation is due Monday.

Harry: We need to talk, call me or come over whenever. I'm always free for you.

It's almost been two weeks since she talked to Harry, but she's honestly embarrassed about how things happened. Harry implied he set her up on a date because she spent too much time with him. She's giving him what he clearly wanted. She also had to process what happened to her alone. Therapy was good, Dr. Stein was very kind. Dr. Stein didn’t make her problems feel small and it felt nice to let things out instead of letting it all bottle up. 

It felt horrible to be away from Harry so long. Since they became friends they’d never gone longer than a day without communication. She felt empty but the image of lipstick stains on his face kept her away longer than she liked to admit. She’s going to push the feelings aside because that won’t be the reason she loses her best friend. 

She's walking up Harry's steps but stops before she reaches the last one. What if he has the girl over? What if he ends the friendship? All these thoughts are running through her head and she hates having not knowing where Harry and her stand. She always hated confrontation.

As soon as she approaches the door, she sighs but squares her shoulder because she's strong. No one, not even Harry will make her feel weak. She's there to apologize for being in his home and overstepping a boundary. Then hopefully, they’ll talk it out. 

She knocks for the first time in years on his door, and it feels strange, but she sucks it up because this is the correct thing to do. 

She hears his light footsteps and takes two steps back.

He's surprised to see her when the door opens, but the smile he wears is bright before he frowns just as quickly.

"You don't need to knock Peach come in."

She steps in slowly toeing off her shoes carefully.

Harry approaches her and brings her in for a big hug. She stands there with her hands at her side. Harry lets her go when he feels her tense.

"What's wrong, Peach?" He frowns looking her up and down. "I've got lots of apologizing to do, but first, why'd you knock."

She looks up at Harry and pouts when she sees the eye bags he has. "You haven't been sleeping."

"It happens when your best friend is short with you for thirteen days, but it's okay because I deserve it." 

"I didn't mean for that to happen, but I was giving you space because I hadn't realized how much I actually bother you."

"Hey, stop that." Harry looks at her sadly. "That's not what I meant that night." 

"I can read between the lines. You don't have to hide anything. I can handle the truth." 

"Listen to me," Harry guides her head to look up at him. "I was a jerk. I let my dick do the talking. You are the most important person in my life. I love you, and I don't know what I'd do without you in my life. I was going crazy this week. It felt like an entire year went by without you."

That makes her laugh. "Stop lying."

Harry shakes his head with a smile. "I mean it. My days without you are long and boring pretty Peach."

"Well, I'm here now, and I smell something good."

Harry hesitates before opening his mouth to address the reason she was at his house that Friday night.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be the person you go to when you're upset." She tenses up just as she was about to reach for a chocolate muffin. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk the one night you needed me most. I'm your best friend, and yet I couldn't tell that you had been crying because of an idiot I set you up with." 

She turns around to look at him, and there's no tears or anger in his eyes, only sadness. "One in three women get sexually assaulted. That's what Matt, Sydney's fiance, told me. He's a social worker.  Women have to fear men yet are never believed or seen as a victim. I told them he didn't hurt me, but Matt told me that it was harassment. I tried to belittle it but they told me it was okay to feel unsafe because it went against what I wanted.  Guess I needed someone unbiased to tell me that it's okay to be affected." She smiles. "I went to see my therapist. It felt umm…good to discuss everything that happened." 

Harry has tears running down his face, and he knows they won’t stop. Seeing her in person has made his guilt really come to surface. "I'm sorry sweet Peach. I'm sorry I sent you on a date that led to this. It's all my fault."

"H, don't cry. It's not your fault he doesn't know how to treat a woman. I'm okay. I will be okay." 

She's holding his face gently in her hands, and Harry falls more in love with her at this moment because she's never looked stronger. Although she was hurt, she won't let it break her but guide her. 

He pulls her in and hugs her tight. Harry kisses her head, whispering I love you, and I'm here for you. 

Harry knows this doesn't clear everything, but they will cross this bridge together and come out stronger. 

She squirms out of his hold. "The muffins are getting cold. I want the chocolate chips melting in my mouth."

~

Harry is sitting in the car on another business call. He's wearing a yellow shirt he woke up in and threw his black hoodie on. His sunglasses resting on his head keeping his curls from falling forward. He was in shorts and running shoes because he was supposed to run with Peach on this new trail, except this call prevented him from doing so, and she didn't want to wait around for him. He knows she doesn't like running when the sun is high, so early mornings are their go-to. Except Harry's job calls him too often on Saturday's because they know he's awake.

He's not sure how long he's been talking, but he's upset because he missed taking pictures of her for whenever they reached the top of whatever they were running to. His passenger door is pulled open, and it's Peach plopping herself down. Shoes taken off and on her feet are her Nike sliders. Harry snaps his head back into the call. 

"Look, H, I fell." She comments, not caring that he was still on his call.

Harry turns to look at her quickly and sees her knee pulled to her chest. She's rolled up her grey leggings, and there on her knee is blood rolling down. She's unfazed, and Harry knows she's clumsy but hates he wasn't there to help her up. 

"This girl helped me up and offered to walk back with me, but she could have been a serial killer for all I know and told her I was fine and ran off. Good thing I was on my way down already." 

Harry stares at this girl in disbelief because, of course, she doesn't trust anyone. "I know girls are less likely, but she was looking at my boobs, and I didn't like that." 

"Styles, you with us." His colleague asks. 

Harry looks away from her and stares back at his phone, resting on the steering wheel. 

"Sorry, my girl had an accident, and I got to take care of it." They end after that and Harry takes out the first aid kit she gifted him to have in his car for emergencies. He knew she did it for herself more and who was he to object. Harry missed the blush on her cheeks when he said, "my girl," and she's thankful for that. He cleans her cut gently but quickly with all the practice he's had on her. He puts a bandage on and smiles when he's done. 

"H, it's got daisies" She's smiling wide. She caressed it softly to not bother her injury. 

Harry did get her different types of band-aids because a new design each time makes her smile. 

“Kiss it better then I’ll be healed.” 

The smile on her face has Harry leaning in close. His lips are soft as they touch her skin. She wants to run her fingers through his hair and bring him up to kiss her lips but she settles for just her knee. 

~

"It's baking time, bitch!" She screams as she walks in with her Rapunzel grocery tote. 

Harry knows they are going to bake two or three things from the size of the bag. She huffs a little, placing it on the counter. She begins to take out her items and sections them out. 

"Today, young one-"

"I'm older than you."

She glares at him for interrupting. "Today, smart-ass. We are making banana bread and peanut butter chocolate chip cookies." 

"Can you do it on your own, I'm busy." Harry jokes, expecting a sarcastic reply in return. 

He looks at her, and she's looking sadly at a bag of chocolate chips. He frowned if she did not get the joke. 

"Am I annoying you?" She questions. Harry hates how often she asks him that, but wounds take time to heal. 

"Nope, I'm just a jerk."

She looks at his eyes and stares. "You're not lying to make me feel better." 

"My sweet Peach, it would be an honor to bake with you and will allow you to pick all the movies we watch tonight because I am an idiot who takes a joke too far." 

"Okay, sorry. I'm on overdrive in my head and came here to relax, but got too into my head." 

Harry pulls her into a warm hug, and they stay like that for minutes. He pulls away and pushes her to the sink because they had work to do.

"Your peanut butter chocolate chip cookies are my drug. I watched you make them, but I feel you do something extra when I turn around." Harry says on the couch chewing on his fifth cookie. She's laying with her head in his lap, she's sure she got crumbs in her hair but is too tired to care. 

"I put all my love for you in those cookies." she murmurs close to dozing off.

Harry stares at with a soft look in his eyes. If she had looked up, she would have seen it was love in those green eyes of his. 

"I wish the love you put in the cookies is the love you'd give to me."

She's asleep in his lap. He knows she missed his declaration if he could even call it that. She lets out a small smile. She grabs his hand playing with her hair and pulls it to her chest. "I love you."

Harry freezes, unsure if she means it or what because it didn’t feel like the typical ‘I love you’ that she tells all her friends. Y/N's never talked in her dream before. 

"Peach," he whispers, "you awake." A minute goes by, and he gets no response 

This might be his chance, but it could also ruin everything if she didn't mean it. 

Oh boy.

~

It's been a week since that night on the couch, and Harry is dying inside. He never has the balls to ask.

 It's the first Friday of the month, which means dinner and wine or in her case tea. 

Peach came over and had already cooked dinner claiming she had lots of time on her hand today. It usually means she didn't want to deal with Harry in the kitchen. Then proceeded to order Harry to set the table because he was no help.

The meal as always was delicious. She made spicy lemon pasta with chicken although she told him it was supposed to be shrimp, she didn't think she'd like it. Harry showed her in praise as he does after every meal. Jokes, she needs to open her own restaurant, then she melts Harry's heart by saying, "I only cook for you, darling." 

Harry decided to have some wine, and she settled on tea because she didn't like to drink. Harry was giggly meaning he was a bit tipsy because he hadn't drunk in forever and was half a bottle down. She knew it wasn't fair but decided now would be a good time for some answers. 

"Do you think I'd be a good girlfriend?

"The best," he replies, instantly letting her know he's not lying. 

She blushes and gestures for him to go on. 

"You're kind. A good cook, understanding, incredibly smart, and you've got a cute nose." Harry wants to go on and on but thinks he'd blurt out his feelings if he did. 

"Would you ask me out? If you didn't know me."

"In a heartbeat," his answer shocks her.

Does Harry like her like she liked him? 

She decides to get bold. 

"Why haven't you taken me on a date?" She looks down at herself dressed in black sweats and a blue vintage Mickey Mouse shirt she stole from Harry. "Am I that bad looking?"

"Stop that," Harry murmurs, always hating when she comments on her looks. "I did ask you out, and I got friend-zoned. I didn't pursue more." 

She shakes her head. "Stop shitting me, H." She doesn't believe him. "The first time we went out together, we split the bill." 

"Think back, Peach. We always hung out in groups then I asked you to go out alone, I picked you up, opened your door and then we split the bill because you said friends met in the middle." 

She sits back, her lips mouthing a silent 'oh.'

"I friend-zoned you." She starts laughing. "That's gold." 

She catches her breath and stops to stare at Harry. He's wearing an old white t-shirt and can't help but look at his curls framing his face. It's slowly growing out, and she knows he's growing it out for her. She loves playing with his curls and tying it in a small ponytail that sticks up. "H, if you had told me that during lunch, I would have agreed, but you decided to keep those pretty lips shut." 

Harry smirks, "You think my lips are pretty." 

She sighs, giving up. She stands up. "I'll pick you up at six on Friday. I'm taking you on a date." 

Harry sits there shocked but not surprised at her boldness. 

"How do you even know I like you?" 

Her smirk falters, and her eyes dull. Harry feels like he was just punched in the gut. He put this look on her face. 

"You're right, that was insensitive of me." She's scanning the room, trying not to meet Harry's eyes. "I'm going to go." She rushes out the door in the next second. Harry is sitting there stunned before he jumps up after her. 

"Wait," he screams, hoping she'll stop. She's in a hurry to leave, throwing her bag in the passenger seat. She shuts the door, but to his benefit, the window is down. 

"I'm sorry." he's panting. "I'm an idiot, I know. I didn't mean that. I just like to tease you." He's looking at her, but she's looking straight ahead. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

She takes a deep breath. "That wasn't nice."

He sighs in relief. "I know, hun. I messed up. We were both being honest and vulnerable, and you surprised me by saying you were taking me out." 

"I'm reconsidering taking you out." 

She finally looks over at him, her eyes not shining as bright looking at him. "I’m still going to go." 

"I'll let you go if you say you'll still take me out." 

She looks like she wants to say no. "I'll hang here if I have to as you drive away." 

"Do you.." she pauses, not being able to meet his eyes. Her hand reaches out to play with his pretty witch ring on his middle finger. "like me." she mutters. 

"Hey, look at me." Harry guides her face to look at him, and he's never seen her so vulnerable. So open. What he feels like her heart is on display. "I'm crazy about you." 

She can't help the blush that colors her cheeks. 

"For so long, I've had these feelings, and I've gone on dates, but it's never worked out, and I've always known it was because they weren't you." 

She smiles timidly. "Okay, H. I'll still take you on a date."

He leans his forehead on hers. "I can't wait."

"I really want to kiss you, but I'm a gentleman. and I want to do this right by you." Harry runs his thumb gently over her bottom lip. She releases a small sigh, her breath warming his thumb. 

"Can't tonight count as a date?" She's looking from his eyes to his lips. 

Harry laughs loving the extra attention. 

"I like to be wined and dined, too, Peach." 

She sighs. "I sure know to pick them." 

A kiss to her forehead and he backs away. "Drive safe, Peach."

She drives off a smile on both their faces.

~

"Okay, I know I was the one who was supposed to pick you up, but I really need you to come for me." 

She's sitting next to the steps that lead to her door cradling her wrist to her chest, cursing the last wobbly step she has yet to fix. 

Maybe Harry will help her fix it sometime soon. 

"I'm not going to ask why I'll be there in five," Harry replies.

"I live 15 minutes away!" she screams, "You better be driving safely, or I'll punch you." 

"Sorry Peach, I meant to say see you in ten." 

She hangs up and shoves her phone in her bag and ponders if she should get up or not. 

She pulls her hand away from her chest a little and sees that it looks okay, thankfully she didn't put rings on today; otherwise, they might have been stuck on her fingers. She looks at her nails and smiles because her lilac nails didn't chip. She did them last night because Harry loves this color. 

Harry arrives and gets out in a hurry that he almost trips over her. 

"Watch it, H." She mumbles, playing with a rolly polly that she found next to her bag. "You almost killed Eric."

Harry stares down at her, not sure what's going on, but gives her time. 

"Our date is for you to drive me to urgent care because I've had an accident." She smiles up at him like it's the most normal thing in the world. 

"Can't say I've ever had someone take me there," he answers, his gaze locked on her swollen wrist.

"I know you will remember me forever and ever for this. Now help me up, my butt is officially numb."

He walks her to his car and goes as far as putting her seatbelt on for her. 

"Want to tell me how it happened?" 

"I was walking down the steps, and my shoe got stuck in the bottom step I have yet to fix. Instead of landing on my face, I put my hands out, and now my left wrist is hurting," she pouts, looking at harry. "I was supposed to fix it this Sunday. I got the supplies in the doorway, ready to go.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, concerned because it is swelling up and the bruising only makes it look worse.

"Nope, I got a high pain tolerance," she winks.

"I'll keep that in mind." He jokes, but gosh, that sure got him tight in his pants.

"I know it's not broken because it doesn't look weird but also not a fracture because it would hurt if I touched my fingers, but they move fine. I just want to know what kind of sprain it is. How long I need to keep it rested and all that fun stuff."

Harry looks at her, not at all surprised she knows so much about the injury. 

"I wasn't always accident-prone. I did sports, and high school division one was tough. I went through lots of icing and taping. The trainer and I were on first name bases. I ended up helping her a lot. She made me take this short course where I learned the basics." 

Harry smiles because although this date is unconventional, he sure is learning more about his Peach. 

They are surprised to see the urgent care waiting room pretty empty. She gives her name, and she's handed a clipboard. Harry is quick to take it out of her hand and begins to fill it out. 

"I should be scared that you know my social security but I'm not." 

"Remember, two summers ago, you wanted to go to Lake Tahoe for a week, and we rented that cabin, and we decided to get drunk together because you didn't drink and only wanted to know how it felt. You only felt safe enough to do it with only me. Well, I decided not to get drunk that night so that I take care of you. You swore you were going to die and proceeded to sing your social security to me in a song until I could recite it back to you." 

She nods as if trying to think back to that day. 

"That day is nonexistent to me." she laughs. "Alcohol sucks. Don't need that in me ever."

"I drink it for the both of us to remember." 

"Yeah, cause your tolerance is high; it must be the British in you," she says, bumping his shoulder softly.

She peeks over to look at the question he's on, and it's asking when her last period was. She's about to answer when she sees he wrote in the correct days. She doesn't comment on it. 

"Do you believe in soulmates?." 

Harry turns to look at her with his bright green eyes. “Yeah, it’s a nice thought. Have someone who completes you and understands you like no one else.”

“I know it’s our first date, but we’ve been friends for over three years and since the moment we met I was hit with this ease and safety when I’m around you. I think you might be my soulmate.” 

"Oh yeah, what does being your soulmate entail?" He’s grinning because he knows she’s right.

"Lots of cookies and cinnamon rolls. Hmmm...cuddles laughs and lots of kisses. Like lots of them." 

Harry’s smile goes into full bloom because they haven't even shared the first kiss, and she knows she wants this with him. 

"I can live with that." 

"That’s cool, I wasn't asking." 

Two hours later, they walk out with a small bag from the pharmacy and her wrist wrapped in a bandage.

"Next part of our date is," she pauses and gestures to Harry to do the drum roll "Ice cream!" she shouts, and Harry cheers with her. 

"But there's a twist." she turns in her seat to look at him. "You have to guess the ice cream flavor I'm thinking of, or this date ends now." 

"We're going to Scoops," He sees her nod and continues on, "That is where you like to get a new flavor each time, but I know after an injury, you crave caramel."

"Final answer then, H."

"Gold Medal Ribbon"

She leans back in her seat. "That is correct," she says proudly. "Let's get some pizza too because I need food to take these pills."

"Pizza, ice cream. Then my place or yours." 

She thinks about it real hard. As much as she loves Harry's bed, she needs her favorite blanket tonight. "Let's go back to mine." 

Harry takes off in the direction of their favorite ice cream shop, Scoops, that is conveniently next to the place where they order their pizza. 

They are lying in her bed together, moving there after watching US per Harry's choice. Harry helped her with her night routine and even tried to brush her teeth, but she reminded him she was ambidextrous. A fancy way of telling Harry she was talented with both hands. That caused Harry to go red and leave her standing in her bathroom alone.

 She's getting sleepy, and she blames it on the painkillers. She doesn't want to sleep because then it would mark the end of their date. Although it was not a traditional dinner, she had a great time because it was Harry. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't wine and dine you properly." She's close to tears because no guy wants to go on a date to a hospital then go home to eat pizza. "It's probably been the worst date you've ever been on, and worst I didn't get to walk you to the door and kiss you." 

"Peach," he starts, and she looks at him with glossed eyes. "This was the best first date. It will always be the most memorable because it was with you."

She smiles slightly.

"Want to know a secret" he grins at her nodding her head shyly. "You're my last first date."

She blushes at his words because she knows the meaning behind it. He means she's the one he's going to be with forever.

"Then will you seal the deal, Mr. Romantic, and kiss me."

He pets her hair gently. "I want it to be perfect."

"Every moment with you is perfect."

Harry's heart skips a beat at her words. He's never said no to her before, and he isn't going to start now.

All their first date kisses have led them to this moment, the final one. All the heartbreak they went through was done so that when the right person came around, they would know how to cherish and protect that love. 

She feels her heart beating so fast she wasn't able to catch a proper breath. His head that just seconds ago was declaring his emotions to her was no buzzing with anticipation. She felt his breaths on her cheeks. He watched her eyelids flutter, then close. Then their lips met. 

Romance novels do no justice to how it feels to kiss the person you were waiting on forever to kiss. It's not fireworks and sparks.

It's better, it's much better. 

It feels as if your soul is at peace. A gentleness flows through them at the love that is being exchanged. It's the feeling of coming home, a sense of wanting, and acceptance. It was something explainable, and they can't wait to experience more of that. 

Harry pulls away far enough to look at her shut eyes and smile that's gracing her face. She opens them, and he's met with them shining as bright as the stars outside. 

"Perfect," she whispers, her right hand coming up to gently stroke the dimples on his face. 

Harry turns his head gently and places a kiss on her palm. She sighs in contentment. He settles on his side and brings her hand down to rest on her stomach as he intertwines their hands together. Her left arm elevated on a stack of blankets and pillows as to allow it to heal; her back pressed to his. They fit perfectly. 

There under the light of the moon, they fell asleep with their hearts full. 

It’s the start of a relationship, one with struggles, laughs, and many firsts together but most importantly filled with an ever growing love for one another. 

~

December 2020

"Do you think she'll hug you first or me?"

"I'm her son, Peach," he states as if her question was absurd.

"I bet you 50," she says. 

"Dollars, quid, kisses, or what" he replies with a smirk on his face.

"Spanks," she replies earnestly.

"Kinky" 

 "Start walking, I see your luggage that has all the presents." 

Harry arrives and parks the car, and she all dives out of the car. She rushes to the front door and puts Harry's key in to unlock the door. She knows it's as much her home as it is his. 

"Anne," she shouts, not seeing anyone in the living room. She takes her shoes off but leaves her coat on. 

Anne walks out of the kitchen, she rushes to give her a hug brushing off Harry standing right next to her. She smirks at Harry, and he just rolls his eyes, but honestly, he might just burst from happiness at how much his mom loves his Peach.

"Can you believe our dear Harold brought his girlfriend here to meet you, and he didn't even let you know." She begins her tale trying her best to hold in her smile 

Harry closes the door and is not at all surprised to see his mom pull her closer in a hug, thinking she was serious. 

Well, she was. 

"Hi mum, I would love a hug. Your youngest and only son is home." 

"Is she serious? Where is the girlfriend?" she questions him right away. "Do you have her waiting outside?"

 "You're holding her." He replies honestly to his mum.

Anne pulls back to look at the girl in her arms, and Harry can't help but laugh at his mother's face. She has a million-dollar smile on her face and nods to reassure Anne that it's true. Anne lets out a little scream before bringing her in for a tighter hug. Harry approaches, and Anne pulls him in to join the group hug. It's a lovely welcome home. 

"It's not even Christmas, and this is the best gift I could have received." 

Anne smiles and comes close to crying when seeing them reach for each other, like two magnets being pulled together. Hands intertwined and smiles wide. She sees their love loud and clear. 

"Oh, does your sister know." Anne suddenly worried if she was the last to know.

"Nope, Harry wanted to let you know together." 

"Well, she shouldn't belong. How long have you been together?" 

Harry grins, "Is it crazy to say it feels like forever." Y/N grins up at him and gives him a quick peck on his cheek. "Got together in March. When the klutz got her wrist sprained." Y/N elbowed him fast and hard enough to leave him gasping for air.

There's a knock on the door, and they know it's Gemma's boyfriend because she would have walked right in. 

"Darlin', go into the kitchen. We'll tell Gemma Harry wants to introduce her to his girlfriend, and that'll be your cue." 

Anne's so excited that they do as they say. 

It's safe to say that day was full of hugs, smiles, and laughs. 

It's cold out, but Y/N doesn't seem to mind. She's got a blanket around her as she sits on the back steps of the house. She looks out and knows she'd be happy here forever. 

"Peach, you're going to freeze out here."

"Not if you come sit by me" She smiles knowing he's not going to say no to her. Harry shuffles over to her quickly unwrapping the blanket to wrap them both in the warmth it’s providing.

"I meant it when I said I'd move across the pond with you."

Harry pulls her close and practically has her sitting in his lap. He rests his head on top of hers.

"I know you did." He stops to press a gentle kiss to her hair. "You've got family there and your job. I got mine too." He sighs as if he's trying to convince himself why they shouldn't

"Not to brag or whatever, but I work at one of the best companies. Top two in the nation, I'm sure they'd allow me a transfer or give me an excellent reference because not to brag again, but I'm amazing at my job. 

Harry acts like he's going to drop her causing her to scream, and she wraps her arms around his neck tightly. 

"You also want to expand your company. Who better to run the branch in London than the man himself." 

Harry groans. "You make it sound so easy."

"That's because it is, with you, it always has been." 

She nuzzles her nose into his neck, causing him to smile because it's cold, but he doesn't let her know because he likes having her this close. 

"You'd move across the ocean with me," he repeats as if still not believing it. "What's the catch?" 

"A promise of forever with you," she whispers, kissing his neck softly.

"With you forever seems too short." 

Harry lets her lean in to peck his lips. 

"I'll support you no matter what, I'm all in with you, and I'll always support all your dreams."

She lifts her arm to rest on his cheek, and she strokes him gently. He hums in content, knowing there is no better place in this world than in her arms. 

"I may be your lover now, but I will always be your friend." 

It’s true Harry thinks as much as their relationship has changed she always has his best interest in mind and vice versa. 

Best friends and lovers.

She leans in and brushes her lips to his. She laughs a little because hers have gone a little dry with the cold, but Harry's stay soft and welcoming. He closes the gap wanting to feel the heat her kisses bring him. Their lips move in sync, a dance only they know. It's soft, and slow just like this moment. Harry pours all his love into this kiss and feels her do the same. They pull apart close enough to still feel each other's breath. Small kisses, always being shared. 

There, in Harry's mother's backyard on a cold December night, Harry and Y/N promise forever and more to each other.

Thank you for reading Always Be Your Friend! I love this story that shows a story of two friends who loved each other but were never brave enough to say it until they finally did. A pinch of angst and a load of fluff later I’m still in love with loud  Y/N and workaholic Harry. Thank you to @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays​ for creating Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge because it was a true joy to take time and write this story (even if there where times I did not like parts of my story.) 

Here’s the pypfc masterlist to check out everyone else’s stories!

please please please let me know what you though of it here.  I love hearing your thoughts it means so much to me. Love you all - Angie

[daydreamsofh]

Dreamy

A/N: Ahhhh! Hi, hello :) Here is my piece for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge! This is the first thing I have ever written,(please be gentle hehe) and I cannot believe you’re about to read it! Thank you, I love you forever. So much love goes to my girls, my best friend @haute-romance-quotidienne (you know how I feel about you) & @harryinsweatersandbandanas​- Ash thank you for your constant support and shared love for yearning over H :) 

And lastly, I have so much love and adoration for the girls that put this whole thing together. @for-fucks-sake-h ​ @oh-honey-styles ​ @andwhenshesays​, thank you all for being so brilliant and allowing us all the chance to try new things and for just constantly being people to look up to and admire. I love you all forever and ever, and I am the luckiest to know you. 

Word Count: 7.3K

Yearning, yearning, pining. more yearning, yearning, and some more yearning. Sometimes our wildest daydreams do come true. 

***

Dreamy soft green eyes watched you from the other side of the room before he shifted his eyes back to the person he was talking to. Arguably this was the hardest part of your friendship with Harry, to see him with other people, other women and knowing that you’d never measure up. Or at least in your eyes, you wouldn’t. And truthfully it had nothing to do with the women he dated. They had all been kind to you and tried to be your friend once they realized how big of a role you played in Harry’s life. They were all lovely and nice and funny, and generally good to him. It never had anything to do with them, and everything to do with you.

Over the years of your friendship with him it had gotten harder and harder to act like you weren’t totally, completely, annoyingly, hopelessly in love with him. Especially on nights like tonight.

Gathered in his lofty, but cozy house with dozens of his closest family and friends for a listening party to celebrate the release of his brand new spanking album. He’s already had two listening parties specifically for his fans, but he wanted to have one for the people that make up his support system, that keep him going when the world feels too big and scary. Plus being the narcissist he so naturally is, the ego boost of his most loved ones listening to his album first and loving it first was an added plus.

He’d told you for months how special this album was to him, and you had singlehandedly witnessed the sheer joy he felt while making it. So when he invited you to the listening party, with those big green eyes slowly blinking at you, of course you said yes.

**

Walking into his home you were greeted by Anne, who was already teary eyed just from simply seeing all of the people gathered together that make up Harry’s life. She jumped up from her seat once she saw you and wrapped you up in a warm hug.

“‘There she is! Always so wonderful to see you love. I’m happy you’re here, he’s been asking for you.’” She squeezed your arm and sent you a wink before leaving you to go find Harry.

Right as she was, once you turned your back from her his eyes caught yours and he made a beeline for you. Weaving in and out of the crowds of people he reached for your hand before pulling you in and burying his face in your neck. The gesture made you sway, having to brace his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall over. When he finally pulled back he had the biggest smirk on his face as his hand reached to cradle your head and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“‘Look who finally made it! Just in the nick of time like always. Hi Sweets.’”

Taking him in made you suddenly very glad you chose not to wear too high of heels tonight, because you almost fell over when you saw what he was wearing. Grey high waisted trousers, because why would anyone wear pants that actually sit on their hips correctly? A striped button top with the sleeves rolled up, and an over the top overly-grandpa sweater vest. His hair kept falling in his face and he had a content, soft, dreamy look on his face. Add the way he looked at you to the long list of reasons you loved him.

Looking up at him your stomach did a backflip before you breathed a small laugh and muttered, “Hi H, got quite the crowd tonight huh? It’s a shame more people don’t love you,”

“Oh yeah didn’t I tell you? I had to bribe everyone here with Gucci gift cards to get them to show up tonight,”

“Yeah I bet you did Gucci golden boy,”

That had him laughing deep in his chest before he playfully swatted at your arm, but just like always he was pulled in another direction as Jeff told him it was time to get the show on the road and get the listening party going.

“Gonna be okay on your own? Should I go grab you some tissues before we get started? Maybe some tea?” He said it with a shit eating grin on his face and a wink.

You narrowed your eyes at him before you replied, “You are a lot of things Styles but a comedian is not one of them! Get outta here before I change my mind and listen to it in the comfort of my own home,”

“Oh you wouldn’t dare, you wouldn’t make me miss out on that cute face reacting to my groundbreaking musical mastery would you?” He winked at you after his oh-so funny quip and you thought you were going to actually pass out and hit the floor from him calling your face cute. You knew your voice would give out and that your cheeks were burning so you just shook your head no and smiled so hard your face started to ache. With that he was finally gone to give his thanks to everyone for attending and for some more mingling before they would actually start the party.

After he walked away, you bumped into your mutual friend Sam, who actually introduced you to Harry at one of his shows years ago.

“Hey babe! I’m so glad you made it, I was afraid you would be too weepy to come today. No offense, but I know how he makes you. Especially with his music. Something about boys with guitars, right?”

After you smacked him in the chest for his hilarious reminder of just how much you pine for Harry and have for years, you muttered a very matter of a fact, “For your information it is not ‘something about boys with guitars’ it is about one boy with a guitar, and I think I have a pretty good handle on my weepy-ness today, so sod off.”

He gave you a knowingly smile and you shot one right back because he was absolutely right.

Everyone in your inner circle knew how you felt about Harry. Actually, anyone who was around the both of you for more than a few minutes picked up on it. From the way you bantered and poked fun at each other to the way you laughed at every one of his stupid jokes, to the way you longingly and very dramatically gazed at him pretty much all the time. And who could blame you?

He made everyone he spoke to feel like the most important person in the world. It was overwhelming how intently he listened and watched people. He was the most kind hearted, patient man. You’d lost count of how many times he talked you off the ledge, how many times he reassured you when you doubted yourself at work, or how many times he called to check on you after you swore up and down to him that you were okay. It was overwhelming how much he cared. It was overwhelming how much he radiated love and understanding. And most of all it was overwhelming how being in the same room as him even for just a second made you feel like you could breathe again. He was like coming up for fresh air, every single time.

And if anything made you feel more overwhelmed than just simply looking at him, watching him perform was a close second. He was ridiculously talented, a natural performer, and just so annoyingly amazing at what he does. No matter how many shows of his you went to you found yourself getting emotional watching him do what he was born to do, he exuded talent and the fact that you got to witness him in action was something you would never get over. He teased you about it each time he watched you from the pit or sides of the stage blubbering, but nonetheless he loved the fact that he could get such a reaction out of you. You also swore you saw his ears tinge pink each time you told him how great of a show he put on. You knew how hard it would be tonight to listen to his brand new songs in his house, IN FRONT of him and all of your closest friends and not cry the entire time. Damn him and his dreamy musical mastery ways.

You watched him hop onto his fireplace alongside Jeff to give one of his famous speeches. His eyes scanned the room and he gave everyone a slow, smirking grin. A slow, honeyed one that warmed you from the inside out and made your chest feel light and fluttery.

“I just want to thank you all so much for taking the time to come out and listen to my album, I love you all endlessly and this album is just as much for you as it is for me.” Harry's eyes found yours again and “You all know how I feel about you so I won’t bore you with a long speech, I love you and thank you for being here. Enjoy.”

And with that he was gone and you lost him in the crowd. After all of the headphones were passed out and everyone had their instructions on how to go about actually playing the album, you were sat in a loveseat near one of the many windows in his house, tucked away from the rest of the crowd.

Sam took the seat next to you and gave you a reassuring smile before he said, “If it gets too much you can get up and leave. I know that you know who most of these songs are going to be about and I don’t want to see you upset. I’ll even give you a ride home.”

You smiled back at him and sighed, “I really think I’ll be okay. I’m always happy just to hear his voice you know? No matter how hard this will be I’m staying. He has all of my support regardless of the fact that these songs aren’t about me. I just wanna be here with him, for him.”

Another smile, “Okay babe, whatever you want.”

**

Headphones were finally passed out and it was time to actually listen to the album. But before you could do that, Harry found where you were sitting and leaned up against the wall closest to you. Before you could ask what he was doing he just smiled, actually beamed at you and shook his head.

“Just wanted to lay my eyes on you before you started listening.” He pushed off the wall and walked over to you, kissed you on the forehead and chucked his fingers under your chin. “You know it means the most to me that you’re here. You’re pretty important to me, know tha’?”

It was such a simple, friendly thing to say, and tears pooled in your eyes before you knew it. “Yeah I've gathered that, I’ll come find you when i”m done listening. Go on,”

You squeezed his hand and gave him a smile while fighting back tears. “Go on,” Harry finally walked away and you looked over at Sam who pretended he wasn’t watching your whole exchange.

You know he didn’t mean to but every time you had a moment like this between the two of you it always just felt like he was dangling a carrot in front of you. Dangling the chance of you being together for real, dangling the chance that he felt the same way, and you know he didn’t mean it to be mean, but in a way it was. You knew there was no way he didn’t know how you felt, how could he not? And for him to be so touchy feely with you and look at you with those soft eyes it just felt cruel. And unfair. How could he not know? How could he not see it? Anytime he walked in the room your eyes lit up and you watched his every move. You supported him unwaveringly and jumped at the chance to do anything you could to help him. Not in a love sick puppy kind of way where you doted over him and thought he walked on the moon, you just wanted him to be as successful as he could be and you knew his potential, and never wanted him to settle for anything less. All you wanted was the best for him. And you’d be lying if you said you wished you were the best for him.

You took a deep breath and pressed play on the first song. You had heard samples of a few songs from the album and hearing the whole thing almost felt like an out of body experience. Golden, Watermelon Sugar, Adore You, and Lights Up filled you with so much joy, excitement, and a buzz. His new sound was unlike anything you have ever heard, and you’d still say that even if you weren’t ya know, embarrassingly in love with him. He had found his new groove and it was so poetic and imaginative and just so, Harry. But the farther you got down the list of songs, your stomach dropped.

Obviously you knew that quite a few of these songs would be about her, and obviously there was nothing wrong with that. It was Harry’s album and written from his life experiences, he had every right to write about whoever he wanted. You just didn’t think it would hit you so hard. Falling was a beautiful, raw, purely crafted song and you loved it. But what really did you in was Cherry. Everything from the soft, heartbreakingly warm guitar strumming to his reserved, falsetto voice, to the words that were so obviously meant for someone else, you were done for. Oh god and then his screams at the end. How many times had you felt that way about Harry? How many times had you left a dinner party or one of his shows and watched him leave with someone else and made yourself sick from crying so much and so hard? How many times had you yelled, screamed at the wall for being so invested in him? For loving him so much it made you sick? Too many times. You were able to get through the rest of the album just fine, distracted by the up beat, funky songs. But once you got to the end of the album, your heart cracked wide open again after hearing Fine Line. It was the most beautiful, ethereal, transcendent song you had ever heard, and you couldn’t believe that you knew the person who was responsible for its creation.

Once you were finished listening to the album, you found yourself going back to Fine Line, playing a loop of him saying “You Sunshine, you Temptress”. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you just sat there in awe of what you had just experienced.

You looked over at Sam who was already looking at you, and even he was crying. You had no doubt that there was a dry eye in the house.

Remembering that you had so foolishly told Harry that you would find him after you were done listening to the album you tried your best to slow your breathing and heart rate back down, and you wiped your eyes as best you could from the tears that took over a majority of your face. You knew how crazy you must have looked, and you hoped Harry wouldn’t notice that you looked the same as you did when you watched the episode of Grey’s Anatomy when Derek and Meredith FINALLY got together. You had cried THOSE kind of tears.

You stood up from the couch you were sat at and straightened your dress and shook out your hands. Taking a deep breath you wiped at your eyes once more and turned to look at Sam, who was already giving you a sympathetic smile.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. You shook your head and cleared your throat before you finally found your words.

“Well, you were right. Dammit why does he have to be so? So- just,” Throwing your hands up another tear rolled down your cheek.

Sam smiled and reached for your hand and brushed his thumb over the top, “I know babe. He is just so. I know you told him that you would go talk to him after you listened but you do not have to. I know how hard this was for you and I don’t want him to make you feel even worse. Do you want me to give you a ride home?”

You looked up at him and gave him the best smile you could. “No no I'm fine, I need to stay and go talk to him. I need to tell him how incredible this was, and that I love him. I think I can manage to do that.”

He gave you a reassuring smile and shook his head, “Whatever you need. I’ll be here for a little while longer if you change your mind.”

Before you got up you asked him, “How soppy do I look? On a scale of ya know 1 to soppy?” You asked him with the smallest laugh you could muster.

“You look beautiful. He’s gonna think so too.”

**

And with that you stood again and finally left to go find Harry. When you rounded the corner of his dramatically long hallway, you found him talking to Jeff and some of his other friends.

Just looking at him from across the room had you teary eyed and your heart feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest. It was like you could feel it in your fingertips just how much you loved him, and every glance he threw your way had you weak at the knees. All you wanted to do was walk over to him and wrap your arms around him and feel his warm hands caress up and down your arms. But you stayed put like you always did, and had your little daydream’s like you always did. As hard as it was to not be “with” him, you’d take anything you could get. Just being in the same room as him made you feel special, and made you feel lucky to know him. Lucky to hear him, lucky to see him, just lucky to know him.

Jeff noticed you lurking behind the both of them and nudged Harry’s shoulder to get his attention. Harry slowly turned around and his eyes softened immediately when he saw it was you. He took off towards you not even bothering to tell the people he was talking to that he was leaving. His gaze on you warmed you from the inside out and you started sniffling again.

He closed the gap between the two of you and you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and looked up at him as his familiar warmth surrounded you. He noticed your weepy eyes immediately and his smile shifted to one of concern. He reached for the crook of your elbow and pulled you in. When he quickly stepped back his hands framed your face and he blurted out a raspy, “Why’re you crying? What happened? Is the album that bad?!” He snorted out a laugh and you gave a matching one, “No no no of course not H. It’s incredible. Really really incredible. I’m so proud of you.” You smiled at him as widely as you could and squeezed his biceps, and for the first time he got an actual look at your face. 

Your eyes were definitely still teary and your lips were a bright shade of red and swollen. Your hair was still curled despite you nervously playing with it all night, and it did a good job of hiding your tears. Harry took you in all at once and you smelled so sweet, devine, familiar. Your eyes bounced between him and the floor and he had decided in that moment you had never looked more beautiful. So real.

He started snickering and asked you, “Is that why you’re so upset? Love you look like-”

“Like I just got hit by a bus? Yeah I’m aware H, thanks. And it’s all your fault” you finished with a laugh followed by a whimper.

“I was going to say you look beautiful. And exhausted. Why don’t we go sit somewhere and you can tell me what you really thought. Tha’ sound good?”

He was waiting for your reaction intently when Ben clamoed a hand on his shoulder and told him someone needed his attention right away. “Sorry to steal you away, uh oh are you- is everything okay?” Ben’s eyes flitted back and forth between the two of you.

You spoke up first, “Oh yeah i’m fine, we’re uh- we’re good we were actually just about to go and talk” You shot Ben a small smile and looked back at Harry.

Ben leaned in and whispered something in Harry’s ear and that had Harry shaking his head in agreeance.

Harry glanced back down at you and said “Why don’t you go find somewhere to sit, where it’s uh- just the two of us and wait for me. I’ll only be a minute and I really wanna hear what you think”

His smile dimpled his cheek and carded his hand through his hair.

When you hesitated your reply he grabbed your hand and searched for your eyes again, he opened his mouth so say something else but you cut him off, “Yeah yeah sure I’ll just be uh where I was sitting earlier. Don’t take too long, I might start crying again” you laughed and Harry mirrored a matching one.

“I'll just be a minute, go get comfy” He kissed your forehead and then he was off. 

Turning around you tried to hide your squealing and practically ran back to the loveseat you were sitting at earlier. You weren't sure what your plan was, would tonight be the night that you finally, FINALLY confess your undying love for him? Would tonight finally be the night that you tell him what you’ve been feeling all of these years? He was eager to talk to you too, right? He was the one who suggested talking somewhere, alone? Oh dear god could he possibly be waiting to tell you the same thing?! Okay, okay no definitely not but still, maybe? He was awful eager to hear what you thought wasn’t he? Awful eager to go somewhere alone with you?

In your very long winded train of thought you realized you had been waiting an increasingly long time for Harry. You decided to get up and go look for him. You eagerly rose from the couch and padded down the hallway to go find him. Turning the corner your eager smile immediately dropped.

There he was, back turned to you surrounded by a crowd of various adoring women. You recognized a few of them, but not all. You stopped cold in your tracks. Your stomach fell to the floor as your tears clouded your eyes again, what the hell was he doing? This is what was so important that he had to leave you for? You weren't sure if you were more pissed off or upset. They all started laughing at something he said and as soon as Harry looked up from their reactions, his eyes caught yours. You felt your knees go weak and your chest start to heave.

Time to go. You held back your tears as you immediately went searching for your coat and your bag. You just wanted to get out of there, away from Harry and his bullshit lies about “wanting to know what you thought”. Clearly he was more interested in other things. You couldn’t believe he put you in this position, again. You felt so stupid for having hope that maybe he felt the same way about you. So silly of you to think, again that you were on the same level as the women that were in his league, in his world. You felt humiliated beyond belief that he put you here, again. You couldn’t stand to even look at him. You were hoping to leave without him seeing you again, weaving in and out of the crowd of people that filled his living room. You ignored people calling out your name to say goodbye, as you made a beeline for the back door. As short as you were Harry still managed to spot you before you reached the door.

He reached for your arm to stop you but you immediately shook his hand off. That caused him to stop you completely by jumping in front of you to get you to slow down.

His eyes found yours and as painful as it was to look at him.

“Oh my god love stop please what’s wrong? I was just about to go find yeh and talk to you- where are yeh going?’

You huffed. “Oh really? You were just about to come find me? Seemed pretty busy already Harry.”

He knew you using his full name instead of just H meant he was in deep shit.

“I was, honest! Why are yeh so upset?!”

You tried to push past him again but his strong hands on your biceps stopped you.

Looking straight up at the ceiling you squeaked out, “Harry I have to go. I can’t be here anymore and I have a work thing in the morning. “

“Tomorrow is Saturday sweets. I know you don’t have a work thing- and what the hell do yeh mean you can’t be here anymore?” He scoffed. “I thought yeh said yeh loved the album?”

Was he seriously using pet names with you right now? Was he looking to get his ass handed to him?

Looking directly at him you mustered all the courage you had left and said, “I can’t be here anymore and watch you get gawked over by other women, and I sure as hell can’t listen to you sing about her anymore. Please. H just let me go.” Your voice whimpered and a tear slid down your cheek before you finally managed to push past him.

Harry just stood there, dumbfounded. Had he heard you right? Christ had he heard you right?

He was quick to turn around and call out your name but you were already halfway out of the door frame. He begged you to stop but you just picked up the pace and practically ran to your car.

**

Driving home from the party all you could do was cry. Your tears clouded your visions and you were trembling, chest heaving trying to catch your breath. You were so incredibly proud of Harry, and his album. You tried to convince yourself that these were partly “happy” tears but you knew that wasn’t the truth. You knew it sounded cheesy but you have never wanted to be with him as badly as tonight. That was until you saw him with his new friend. But the more you tried to stay mad at him, you couldn’t. You still just wanted to be with him. And it wasn’t because he was Harry Styles and had a brand new (probably going to be platinum) album out. It was because he was Harry. Your H, your best friend, your favorite person. The man who put together a party where he was surrounded by everyone who loved him and who he felt the most safe around, all to just share his most personal album to date. He made this incredible piece of art and the first thing he wanted to do was share it with the people he loves the most, it was the most adorable thing you had ever seen.

You finally neared the street your apartment was on, and as soon as you got inside and pulled your phone out of your handbag, you already had 5 missed calls and voicemails to match. You knew you scared him with the way that you very dramatically stormed out of his place with tears in your eyes, but you just couldn't call him back. Or even begin to think to. Not only were you heartbroken and upset about the whole situation, you were also embarrassed for your outburst, or actual lack thereof. Damn him and his ability to make you lose all the words in your brain every time he looked at you. You put your phone away for the night, washed off your makeup and put on one of Harry’s old t-shirts you stole a couple years ago to sleep in. You pulled the covers over your head and finally drifted off.

**

The next few days consisted of Harry calling you every .2 seconds. He sent flowers, baked goods. He even sent you a loaf of bread, which he was sure would do the trick. A bit of an inside joke between the two of you and your shared love of eating your sadness away with the help of massive carbohydrates. He knew better than to actually drop by and try to see you, he figured he just needed to give you a few days and you’d call and tell him what was going on. His main reasoning for that actually was that he didn’t want to spook you or see you upset again. He knew you would come back to him, you always did.

By the 4th day of not hearing from you, Harry was getting increasingly worried. You got a call from Sam, your Mom, multiple mutual friends of yours, you even got a call from Jeff. All claiming that Harry didn’t tell them to call you and check on you, even though you knew that they all had orders to report back to him with whatever you said. Each call you either declined or gave a vague reasoning of why you sounded so unlike yourself. You weren’t really sure what your long term plan was, it’s not like you could just ignore him forever or the situation forever. Although, changing your name and moving to Bora Bora didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

The more phone calls you got the more you wondered about what Harry had told them as a reason to check on you. Being the blabber mouth that he is you were sure that he had told them about what you said to him. It’s not like literally everyone didn’t know how you felt about him, but the fact that he now knew how you felt made your stomach churn.

Maybe Bora Bora was still an option. You tried to busy yourself as best you could, but of course like always your thoughts circled back to Harry. Maybe he hadn’t heard you? Maybe he was too busy thinking about what’s her face that was rubbing her hands up and down his back to hear what you said? You hoped it was the latter.

By the 5th day of you hiding out in your apartment, Harry had lost all patience and grace. He decided to make his presence known and come over to your place. He was tired of waiting, and quite frankly he was terrified he had hurt you beyond repair. The two of you had had little spats and fights over the years of your friendship, at the longest it only took a day for the two of you to calm down and then you were okay. This is the longest the two of you had gone without speaking, and it was making him sick. He needed you, and he loved you. He just hoped he hadn’t ran out of time to tell you.

By the time he got to your apartment you had managed to actually get dressed for the day. For you that meant an old, ratty sweatshirt of Harry’s you stole along with your sleep shirt, a pair of yoga pants. You took your hair out of it’s bun and took a long look in the mirror at yourself. You looked pitiful. You pulled the sleeves of Harry’s sweatshirt over your hands, wiped your tears away and went to get comfy in your front room. You were one episode of Grey’s Anatomy deep when there was a knock at your door. Shit.

You stayed perfectly still and muted the TV. You knew exactly who it was knocking. You’d hope he hadn’t heard your TV and he’d assume you weren’t home. You held your breath as your cheeks started to warm.

It was when you heard that slow, honeyed rasp that your eyes started to leak.

Harry let out a long breath and knocked again. “Angel I know you’re in there. Please, please let me in. I just wanna see your face. I need to lay my eyes on you.” His voice was softer, slower. “I need to hear your voice love please.”

You stood at your feet. As mad and hurt you were by him you just wanted to fling the door open and fall into him. But part of you still wasn’t ready to come face to face with him.

Harry knocked on your door again and you moved closer. He let out another heavy sigh, “Love don’t make me use my key. Please open the door.”

Shit shit shit shit! Why had you given him a key?! Could you run to your bathroom and sneak out the window? Could you hide in your pantry? All viable options you thought.

“Okay, you’ve left me no choice. I’m coming in.” Harry all but barked at you.

Your eyes went wide and you ran to the door and put your hand on the lock. “Wait wait wait Harry just uh- give me, give me a minute.” You fluffed up your hair a little bit and straightened your sweatshirt.

Oh god. You were wearing his sweatshirt. Why couldn't you just melt into the ground instead of opening the door? You wanted to bolt but you knew you just needed to get this over with.

Opening the door you were met with a very somber looking Harry, but his eyes softened and he smiled once he saw you. He looked so sad, so concerned, so confused. He was wearing one of his sweatshirts from his first tour, black jeans and his checkered vans.

“There she is. Hi love.” Harry’s eyes raked over your figure and his eyes went wide when he saw you clad in his sweatshirt. He went in for a hug but you pulled away before he could close the gap and you stepped to the side of him. His brow furrowed but before he could speak you muttered a very small “Hi Harry.”

He was still upset you were using his full name. He wanted to hear your sweet, familiar voice saying the nickname that rolled off your tongue so easily. It was one of his favorite words coming from you, and it made his heart swell each time you said it. It instantly felt cold in your apartment, and you suddenly wish you wouldn’t have opened the door.

You walked behind your kitchen island to put a barrier in between the two of you and his eyes wouldn’t leave yours. The two of you just stood there in silence and you swore you had never felt so exposed. So uncomfortable. How many times had you stood in this very spot with Harry making breakfast together? How many times had he danced with you around your kitchen? How many beautiful and truly wonderful memories did you have of spending time together in your home? You couldn’t believe how detached you felt from him, and as hurt as you were itching to touch him. This strange silence felt so unfamiliar.

You smiled as best as you could and asked him, “What’s up? Are you okay? What’s got you so curious that you had to come all the way over here?” you laughed a little at the end in hopes of him not being able to hear you sniffle.

His eyebrows raised before he replied, “Love you scared the shit out of me. I’ve been worried out of my absolute mind the past couple days. I- I need to know what yeh really meant when you said you couldn’t listen to me sing about her anymore?” His eyes flitted all over your face as he waited for your response. “Please tell me. I’ve been out of my mind thinking about it all week.”

You felt your chest tighten and your eyes started to tear up again. You were just about to make up an excuse when you realized that’s what you’ve been doing all these years, and all it’s done is hurt you and not gotten you and Harry anywhere. Hang buildup. He had already heard you the other night. He needed to know how you really felt.

Looking up at him you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. You were half expecting you to chicken out and make up another excuse, but all that came out was, “I’m in love with you Harry.”

Harry’s eyes snapped up and you wished the floor would have come up and swallowed you whole. Where the hell did that come from?! Shit shit shit shit there was no way to take that one back. But you know what? Screw it. Hang buildup. The flood gates were wide open.

You took advantage of your rare bravery and kept going.

“Harry I love you. I’m in love with you. My heart is so full of you I can’t even call it my own anymore. I love you. I really, truly do. I love you so much I can feel it in my finger tips. And every time you look at me. You’re a piece of me. I dream of you. I don’t come without you. I take you with me, everywhere I go. I love you in a really big, stupid, annoying kind of way. Like in the way that I check the weather wherever you’re traveling to so I can know what it’s like where you are. I love you in the way that when you’re out of town I go and I visit with your Mom because I know how much she misses you and I take comfort in her home because it was once your home. I love you in the way that I save every voicemail and voice note you’ve ever left me and I listen to them when i’ve had a shitty day or when I just want to hear your voice and you’re not here. I love you in the way that is embarrassing and loud and over the top. You are the best part of any day.”

Floodgates, wide open. When you finally finished your speech you stood there, unmoving waiting for him to say something. When he stood there for a good minute not saying anything, you started to panic. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit way too much why did you say all of that?! This was not the finale of Grey’s Anatomy, who did you think you were? Maybe you could still bust out of your bathroom window.

You stuttered and very shakily tried to take it back. “Oh my god I’m so sorry- you, you don’t have to say anything. Maybe you should go, it's clear you don’t feel the same way and we can just try and forget what I said.”

Harry cleared his throat before he readjusted his stance. He went reaching for the pocket in his sweatshirt, and pulled out a pile of letters and notes with a rubber band holding them together.

“I uh, I've been adding to this since the first week we met.” He cleared his throat but he didn’t want to spook you so he just slid them across the island.

There were dozens of letters and sticky notes, even old receipts that had his handwriting scrambled all over them. You figured they were song lyrics and ideas he had, but then you saw your name. He had written you dozens of love letters and notes. He dated them too, and he was telling the truth. The first one was dated the exact day you two had met. You knew because it was the same night you saw him perform for the first time. Your face was red as a tomato as you started to read them and you were suddenly crying again. You hadn’t even noticed but Harry had closed the gap between the two of you and his warm presence was behind you. He brushed his hand against your arm and spun you around to face him.

“I’ve loved you for forever, angel. I’ve loved you since you set foot backstage at that show so many years ago. We had just met and we had had literally one conversation but I knew. I just looked at you and I knew I was going to be with you. Some way, somehow. I didn’t care how long it took. And for the first couple of years of us being friends I settled for just that because I loved you so much it kind of scared me. Hence the pile of notes of me confessing my feelings time and time again.” Harry grabbed your hand and brought it to his chest before continuing, “I love you I love you I love you. Yeh pretty much my entire heartbeat. Y’my girl.”

You were positively sobbing and you felt like you were on fire. Were you dreaming? Did he just? Did he just say all of that? Did he just swoop in here and basically say that he’s been in love with you since the beginning of time? You were in awe of the man standing in front of you. This man who you had loved for years and who you had watched grow into this incredibly understanding, resilient, unashamedly vulnerable man who exudes love and kindness. How lucky were you to love him, and to be loved by him? It almost didn’t feel real, like some sort of daydream. A beautiful, beautiful daydream.

Your throat went dry and you suddenly forgot how to speak. You broke out into an uncontrollable snicker and managed to choke out, “Me? You, you love me too?”

Harry cradled your face in his hands and brushed his thumbs over the tops of your cheeks and let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah I do love. Loved yeh forever. Don't know why it took yeh so long t’see it. Will yeh let me kiss yeh now?”

Oh, hell yes. Harry brought his mouth down to yours and sealed your lips in the sweetest, most sipping kiss. He tasted like his favorite mint tea and his scent over took all of your senses. He kissed you over and over, somehow buttoning your lips together even more perfectly each time. When you both smiled into the kiss it broke and you stood there holding each other with your foreheads pressed together, panting. Harry looked up at you and you had never seen him smile so wide. You were sure he was actually in pain. He looked you up and down and tugged at the bottom of your (his) sweatshirt. 

“What’s this hm? Another way you love me? By stealing all m’clothes and never returning them?” 

You started giggling and told him to “Shut up H.” You bashfully grinned and hid your face in his warm neck and breathed him in. 

“Hey now that’s not nice m’love. Thought yeh said you loved me?” he gave you a shit eating grin and you gave him a matching one. 

“I do H, that I do.” That had him grinning at you wider than you had ever seen and the two of you spent the rest of the night wrapped around each other telling each other over and over again how much you loved each other. Well, and maybe showing each other how much you loved each other, too. 

[harrysgoldenbum]

Want You Pt. 1

--Harry is June’s ex. June is Y/N’s best friend. Months after the break up the two meet again, and there is an attraction Y/N is just not ready to address.-- 

I want to thank @for-fucks-sake-h​ @andwhenshesays and @oh-honey-styles​ for letting me participate in this challenge. As a new writer its a bit intimidating but I hope y’all enjoy :)

warning: mentions of smut, but nothing too juice... yet. 

Y/N couldn’t believe it. 

Of all the damn colleges in the country, he had to attend the same one as her. And out of all the parties that were happening tonight, he had to be at the same one she was. 

She turned away from the vibrant green eyes of Harry Styles and wished the ground would swallow him whole. She was looking forward to getting wasted tonight. She had a tough week with four exams, her mother once again pushing her buttons and something went wrong in the system and Y/N couldn’t sign up for the classes she needs next quarter. Now she is a fourth-year student and is going to fall behind on her major. Y/N was over all of it. Seeing Harry was just icing on top. He was her best friend June’s ex-boyfriend. 

And a complete douchebag. 

He’s also really fucking attractive. 

Hoping the dancing bodies and the loud music would distract him and not having him come her way, Y/N grabs her roommate’s hand and starts to walk farther into the room. Y/N doesn’t know how Carrie convinced her to go to a party on a Thursday, and yet here she is. When they enter the next room, Y/N tells Carrie who she saw.  

“Is he here?” Carrie asks over the music. 

With a nod of her head, “I thought I saw the last of him last year! June had said that he was planning to transfer out. I guess he didn’t.”

With a shrug, Carrie gulped her beverage from the red solo cup. 

“I should tell that jerk what I think of him.” Y/N seethes taking in her surroundings to see if he is anywhere near her. 

“You could say whatever the hell you want, but it won’t bother him. Especially when he practically has an endless supply of pussy.” 

Immediately, Y/N pictured Harry between her legs. His green eyes look up at her, while his tongue fucks her pussy. She has to clench her thighs and take a deep breath. She pushes the guilt away from her mind and tells herself that she’s too drunk and was thinking unclearly. But fuck, he is hot. But no matter how attractive he is, he is still an asshat. 

“There are so many stories about that boy’s dick,” Carrie states over her cup, dreamily. 

Y/N looks over at her friend in shock, “What?! That was before they broke up! All I had to do was wait until June was wasted and she couldn’t stop talking about how good he gave it.” 

The two friends move to a quiet corner, Carrie looking for a possible partner for the night. It takes about five minutes, then Carrie is leaving Y/N for the guy that was undressing her with his eyes across the room. Two minutes later, she’s taking his hand and disappears somewhere in the house. 

With a heavy sigh, Y/N pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through her socials. It doesn't take Harry even two minutes to slide right up to her. She tries to ignore him and continues to look at the pictures of people. But she can feel his eyes on her. She feels his eyes travel up and down her body until they rest on her face. 

She finally snaps. “What do you want?” she all but snarls.

With a slight laugh, he leans his forearm onto the wall she’s leaning against. “Well, I want to talk to you.”

“Talk to me? Why would you want to talk to me?” Y/N asks, “we aren’t friends, not even close! Especially not after what you did to June!” 

Harry flinched.Y/N sees the look of pain and hurt flash across his face. But seconds later the emotion is wiped clean and is replaced with that flippant, self-assured, asshole persona that fits him so well. 

“Well, we can become friends, can’t we love?” There is a dangerous gleam in his eye that had the hair on the back of her neck rising. “We can get to know each other.” 

Something about the way he says that makes Y/N shiver with anticipation. The fire in his eyes’s putting her on edge. Looking into his forest green eyes, a shiver starts from the base of her spine and travels up and around her body. She can feel her nipples tighten. And prays to god that her padded bra keeps them hidden. 

Y/N was a year younger than him, and when June and Harry had broken up, she had finally moved to the college town just a couple of months before. So she wasn’t lying when it came to friendship Harry Styles. He might have dated her best friend for almost six months, but she only met him a handful of times. And that was after she finally gave up on commuting to school and found a small, cheap studio apartment for herself. Thanks to all the scholarships and grants she had received, she didn’t have to worry about a roommate. And working as a waitress at a local diner helps with her other expenses. The weeks later, June and Harry were no longer together. Y/N always assumed it was a messy break up because it led to June transferring to a different college on the other side of the country. 

“Why would I want to be friends with you?” she asks. “You cheated on my best friend.” 

He clenches his jaw and avoids her eyes. He looks like he’s in an argument with himself. But once again when he turns to her he’s showing her his easy-going smile, the smile that had so many girls swooning because of his dimples. Harry’s eyes travel up and down her form and he doesn’t even try to hide his appraisal. 

“You look really good tonight, Y/N. Really good,” he laughs, covering his face to hid his blush. “Fuck, I saw you from across the room, you dress make your legs… damn… your legs look like they go on forever.” 

Y/N hates herself for blushing. She hopes the darkness that consumes the house helps her hide her heated cheeks. She’s torn. One part of her is eating up the compliments from the attractive guy that’s feeding them to her, leaving her hot and horny. And another part of her fighting the attraction and reminding her of her loyalty to her best friend. 

She does the one thing she can, she crosses her arms and looks away.

Taking his snapback off his head, Harry runs his hands through his hair and puts it back. “Look… is it because of the way things ended with June the only reason that is keeping you from letting me get to know you better?” 

Turning back toward him, Y/N sees a slight frown on his face, causing creases on his forehead. 

“What do you mean only thing? How can you come to me and act like you cheating on a girl, who you were in a serious relationship with, who was so in love with you, not a big deal?!” 

“I never said that,” he replies calmly. “I asked if that was the only thing keeping you from maybe not hating my juts.”

Looking up at him in confusion, Y/N can’t help but question what he was asking her. 

The desire to put him in his place overcomes her. “I don’t like you in general,” Y/N starts. “Cheating is one obvious reason, but you are arrogant and annoying. You are used to getting your way, especially when it comes to the number of girls you’ve been with. It makes me uncomfortable.”

Throwing his head back, a deep laugh escapes from Harry. He looks absolutely gorgeous. His laugh seemed to come from deep in his belly, his smile pops out his dimples and lights up his face. He looks down at Y/N with amusement twinkling in his eyes. 

“Seems to me someone is uncomfortable with their sexuality.” 

Y/N’s jaw drops. “What?! No! That’s not true! You’re - Just because I’m… I’m not attracted to you!” she stutters. Her cheeks heat up at the bald-faced lie she tells him. 

“It’s alright love, I have that effect on a lot of women,” he responds with a smirk.

With a scowl on her face, Y/N looks at him with disgust. “Good for you! Why don’t you try putting your moves on one of them?” she gestures to the number of college girls that are at the party. Most of them are giving them side-eyes, clearly wondering why Harry would be giving Y/N his company. “Because I’m definitely not interested.” Looking him dead in the eyes. “Especially not a guy that would cheat on a woman. Whether she is my best friend or not. It highlights your character and its a trait that I am not attracted to.”

Harry’s cocky smile falls off his face. “I didn’t cheat on June.”

His face goes sober, catching Y/N off guard. She takes a moment to study him, looking for any hint of a lie. She doesn’t find one. 

She tries to say something, but he beats her to it. 

“You don’t have to believe me. I highly doubt that you will, but the chance that you do - the chance that you know, might not… hate me anymore…I figured that you should know. I never cheated on June.” 

“And I am supposed to just… believe you?” Y/N asks, throwing her hands up in the air. 

“You can do what you want Y/N,” he laughs, “I’m just trying to tell you my side of the story. Do you want to know what happened? I told her that there was someone else and she just assumed. I just never made the effort to correct her. That’s what ended us. I encourage you to ask her.” 

He stands straight and starts to walk away. Harry had taken two steps before he came back to her. He wraps an arm around her waist and puts his other arm against the wall behind her. “Maybe knowing that I’m not the asshole you think I am will make it easier on you to accept that you want me just as bad as I want you.” He says to her. Harry brushes a couple to strands of hair out of her face and soft kiss her cheek before turning around and leaving her alone for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~

The next day, Y/N decides to do some investigating. 

Y/N and June tried to keep in contact with each other since she transferred. They would text each other a couple of times a week and try their hand at calling each other at least once a week. But it has been a couple of months since the last time they called each other. 

So, that morning, Y/N sends June a text telling her that she ran into her asshole of an ex last night and informed her that she put him in his place. But, she also tried to dig for more information. Y/N had never gotten the whole story from June, Y/N knew that she was planning to transfer schools after her second year and Harry had said that he would join her too. But by the time June was getting ready to leave, they had broken up. And Y/N being the supportive and helpful friend she is, Y/N helped June not only pack and eat endless pints of ice cream and drank more than their fair share of wine. And plenty of chick-flicks to make her feel better. 

When Y/N got a response from her, to say she was confused was putting it lightly. 

Okay, so I may have overreacted and made him look worse then what was actually going down. I appreciate your loyalty as always! Haha, I was just super into him and things are going good. But then out of now where he tells me that there is someone else. I guess I never did find out if he slept with her or not but I didn’t give him the chance to explain himself. Whatever, I’m over it. He texted me a couple of weeks ago apologizing again. I don’t plan on becoming his friend, but I don’t hate him anymore. Talk to you soon Y/N. xoxo.

After rereading what was sent to her, Y/N started to think that maybe Harry Styles is as bad as she thinks. And that just maybe, he is telling the truth. 

She pushed the thought from her mind and started to work on her fourth-year thesis.

It isn’t until late at night when she thinks of him again. So maybe he didn’t cheat on June, but that doesn’t mean she can stand the guy. He makes her uncomfortable. And Y/N is pretty sure that he is just looking for a quick fuck, which she isn’t entirely against. But when the guy is an arrogant son of a bitch, Y/N does her best to avoid them. 

~~~~~~~~

Sunday morning, Y/N does her best to be productive. Looking around her apartment to see what chore she should start with, she picks up her hamper and the dirty clothes thrown on the floor and goes downstairs to start her laundry. She’s wearing her only clean clothes, a pair of boy shorts that she usually wears to bed (because they barely cover her ass) and a stretchy tank top without a bra. She gets to the laundry room and starts to separate her dirty clothes. 

“If this isn’t the best thing I’ve seen all day!” 

Y/N freezes at the sound of the voice that rings through the room. She’s bent over the washer stuffing her clothes, realizing that she is probably exposing more than half her ass. She stands straight and looks over her shoulder, and sure enough. It’s Harry freaking Styles. He seems to be holding a bag of laundry over his shoulder. He’s wearing athletic shorts and a plain white tee. His cocky smirk irritates Y/N further. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I thought this room was for the whole building,” he starts walking to the empty washer next to her and starts loading his clothes. “I was told that anyone who lives here can use it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and her jaw drops. She tries to convince herself that her heart is racing because she is just irritated. “You’re fucking joking right?” 

“Nope,” Harry says, popping the p. “We are neighbors” his dimples peek out as he grins. “I’m 2C. Where are you?” He adds detergent to his machine and starts the wash cycle. 

“3C” she replies, watching him carefully, “are you stalking me now?”

He breaks into a deep laugh. Going as far as clutching his flat stomach. “I can assure you, it is 100% a pure coincidence, love.” 

With a sigh of frustration, Y/N closes her washer's lid and starts her wash cycle. She glances at him and sees him leaning against the machine and checking her out. His jade color eyes move slowly over her body and Y/N finds it difficult to breathe. Her nipples grow hard. Realizing she isn’t wearing a bra, she crosses her arms across her chest. 

Suddenly, he eagerly asks her if she talked to June and if she backed him up.

“I did, congrats, I guess your character isn't all that bad. But I still can’t stand you.”

Harry moves his hand to cover his heart. “You wound me, love. You know I’m not a two-timing type of guy, can’t you ease up on me a little?”

“No” Y/N scowls. She enjoys him begging for her attention. She feels as if it's the first time he is working for something in his life. 

“Playing hard to get then?” he teases. His green eyes light up with amusement. 

“Or maybe not all women want you like that” Y/N scoffs. 

That arrogant smirk reappearing, Harry leans toward her. “That hasn’t happened yet.” 

Resisting the urge to scream, Y/N rolls her eyes and turns to collect her stuff. Just as she is about to comment, hoping to get the last word, two girls walk into the laundry room. They both stop when they see Harry. Blatantly check him out, and clearly liking what they see. 

“Hi, I’m Amelia and this is my roommate Alexis. Did you just move in?” she asks, twirling her hair around her finger. 

Harry steps in front of Y/N and shakes their hands. Y/N clenches her jaw and tries to convince herself that she’s annoyed because she can’t stand Harry, not because of the two other girls hitting on him. 

Suddenly, Y/N doesn’t feel comfortable leaving the laundry room, so she tries to prolong her stay by making it look like she is doing something while the others make small talk. 

Y/N’s ears perk when she hears Amelia offer Harry a tour of the building and the neighborhood. But Y/N knows what type of tour Amelia really wants to give Harry. A strong arm wraps itself around her waist and pulls her closer to Harry’s body. His thumb rubs circles on her hip bone that was exposed from her tank top rising. 

“That’s very sweet of you, but Y/N just offered to do that, right?” he’s only looking at her. Heat races throughout her body and tingles travel down her spine. 

Looking up at him with wide eyes. She finds it fascinating that one person who she finds attractive can be just as infuriating. “Right,” she confirms with a fake smile. 

She would rather play along rather than letting these skanks sink their claws into Harry and spread whatever diseases they carry. Harry holds on to her while the two girls get their now dry clothes and leave the room. Y/N wiggles out of Harry’s grip and goes to grab her hamper and phone. But Harry beats her to it. 

“What are you doing?!” Y/N shrills. She suppresses the urge to stomp her foot like a three-year-old throwing a tantrum. 

He messes around on her phone for a minute before giving it back to her. “There. I gave you my number and texted myself, so I have your number. We are going to start working on ‘not hating my guts’ thing, yeah?” he tells her with a smile. 

Whirling around Y/N stomps out of the laundry room. Looking over her shoulder, “Don’t bet on it,” she shouts over her shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~

It's later in the evening when someone knocks on Y/N’s door. She just finished cooking herself dinner and had Netflix queued. When she answers it, a shirtless Harry Styles is standing in the hallway. His tattoos stand out against his tanned skin. Y/N’s mouth waters. His body is built and his muscles are defined in all the right places. His abs are just tight enough to stand out without him trying too hard. He’s holding a tupperware box in his hand. Y/N feels heat leak between her legs. 

She quickly drags her eyes up to look at him. “What do you want?” she snaps, hoping once again that he can’t see her hard nipples. Irritation streams through her body. Her body acting as a traitor even though her brain knows that she doesn’t want anything to do with him. 

“I thought what better way to convince you that I’m not an asshole,” he starts, “than by baking you chocolate chip cookies… and brownies.”

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked and wanted to give you something you might like. I use to work at my gran’s bakery and she taught me how to bake really well.”

Taking the box from him Y/N is flabbergasted. Once again she sees a side to Harry she didn’t think he had. And it's thrown her out of the loop. “Well, um… thanks.” she stands there awkwardly, unsure what else to say. 

Harry’s forest-green eyes are looking at her. His eyes darken and he takes a step toward Y/N. “One more thing.” He wraps his arms around her waist and dips his head. He sucks on the skin just below her ear. “I can fuck pretty well too,” he whispers. His lips lingering at the shell of her ear. 

Before Y/N can say a word, Harry turns around and walks away. 

In a daze, Y/N shuts the door and moves to her couch and collapses. Only two words enter her mind. ‘Well, fuck.’

Part 2 Here

My Work

[wonderrdies]

if love be rough with you - pt.1 (pypfc)

In which you and Harry are professors at a prestigious Art and Language university but can’t stand each other. Well, you can’t stand him. 

disclaimer: I fucked up and won’t finish the thing in time for the pick your poison fic challenge (thank you and I’m sorry to @for-fucks-sake-h​ @oh-honey-styles​ @andwhenshesays​) so I’ll split it into two parts. Once I post the second one, I’ll link it down here. 

warnings: so far, so good. there’s gonna be fucking in the next one, though. 

word-count: about 4,000 words

If love be rough with you, be rough with love.

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

(Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare)

Your copy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet fell to the wooden floor of classroom 103 with a dull thud. It was not your favorite play by any means, but teachers didn’t get much of a choice when it came to the syllabus at Markham. Art and Language students there had been learning the same things for generations, walking through ancient hallways with the pretentiousness of people who know they’re special because of more than just daddy’s money. 

Daddy’s money was still a big part of it, though. The fact you didn’t have it made it very obvious that, despite your mid-20s looking face, you were staff and not a student. Which, you said to yourself back when you started teaching at Markham, was fine. You made a mantra out of it in the beginning: It’s fine. I’m fine. When older professors and students didn’t take you seriously, when you were lonely, when the stone walls made you feel claustrophobia instead of wonder, when you had to begin working with Drama students instead of sticking to your comfort-zone in the Literature department. It’s fine. I’m fine. Three years later, it was true; you fit right in. You had learned to focus solely on the bright side of the school and the role you had to play, dressing and speaking and teaching like the classy and stone-faced intellectual you always wanted to be. With all your weaknesses safely tucked away, you felt like you probably were a better actress than most of your students. 

Considering you were 20 minutes ahead of schedule and no one was ever this early for class, bending over in your pencil skirt to pick Romeo and Juliet up didn’t seem like  a big deal. Until you heard the whistling. 

“All this for me?”

You took your time standing up, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be gross,” you laid the book back on your desk, crossing your arms as you stared at the man by the door. “Professor Styles.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he flashed you a dry smile, but his green eyes showed amusement. “Darling.”

The eye-roll couldn’t be held back any longer. “Piss off.”

No need to say you weren’t a classy and stone-faced intellectual when it came to Harry Styles. 

“Can’t piss off from my own classroom, can I?”

Seemingly not minding your frown, he walked into the room holding a worn leather case for what you could guess was an acoustic guitar. If he weren’t dressed in his usual expensive and obnoxious clothes, you’d be able to mistake him for a very handsome hobo. 

“No, but you can piss off from mine,” you pointed to the metal numbers on the door. “We’re in 103, Styles. I have it for the next three hours.”

“Funny,” he said before laying his guitar on the desk. It pushed your book away until you had to grab it so it wouldn’t, once again, fall to the ground. “Because my schedule says that I have it for the next three hours.”

“Indeed,” Romeo and Juliet falls on leather harshly, the sound pretty similar to the one it made while hitting the floor. “Hilarious.”

The rumbling of what could only be a herd of students began before Harry could come up with any clever remarks, making his head turn to the door expectantly. His pearl necklace accompanied his movement, and you tried not to stare too hard at the expanse of his neck or imagine what it would look like with a couple of bruises under those pearls. 

You snapped out of whatever that thought was before there was any need to overthink it. Over your colleague’s shoulder, you could see students, not all of them yours, entering the room. If it wasn’t clear before that there had been a mistake, it was now; Drama and Music students looked at each other suspiciously, whispering to their classmates like they were in primary school instead of university.

“Professor?” someone called. Both you and Harry turned to the desks arranged in a circle, all of them occupied. One of his students, standing on the corner, moved uncomfortably under your glare before speaking again: “Where should we seat? Is this a joint lesson or something?”

A joint lesson? You cringed at the idea. “No,” you said harshly. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his voice breezy when compared to yours. “We’ll sort it out, guys. Give us a few minutes.”

He made the two of you sound like a team, which was outrageous. The collar of your sleeveless turtleneck was, all of a sudden, way too tight. 

“You look constipated,” he muttered under his breath so only you could hear him. “Let’s go outside.”

“What for?” But you were already following him to the hallway. “Look, just get another classroom.”

“Why don’t you, if it’s that simple?” Harry asked while you closed the door behind you. 

“Because it’s a good classroom, the best in the building!”

“Is this how you plan on making me give it up?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning on the stone wall like he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably didn’t. 

“Harry,” you sighed. Your hand went to the tiny gold cross in your neck, nervously messing with it. You knew you were about to start pacing like a madwoman. “You could play that guitar anywhere on campus. Just let me have the damn room, alright?” 

“Do you think that’s all my lessons are?” He sounded upset.

A brief moment of guilt didn’t stop you from snapping at him. “Do you think I care?”

“No, I don’t,” Even though his voice remained calm, Harry straightened up. “I would never have such high expectations for you, darling.” 

You looked at him with a blank stare. Those green eyes without a hint of malice, the soft brown curls of his hair, the delicate pearls over a pastel blue sweater that had a fucking baby chick on it; seeing him, it was hard to believe he could be mean enough to hurt you. But he had, so you went with the most mature and eloquent answer you could muster: “Whatever,” mumbled under your breath.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go to the administration and get this shit over with.”

His tone, finally bordering on annoyed, gave you some satisfaction. Maybe you two had more in common than you thought.

— 

Things between you and Harry hadn’t always been this hard. Back in university, among mutual friends and copious amounts of alcohol, he had been nicer. So had you. But Markham made the differences that seemed meaningless at 19 years old feel like deal breakers for any sort of healthy work relationship; his laid backness, so charming all those years ago, drove you insane now. He was a brilliant musician, of course, but was that really all it took? While you searched for the perfect balance between serious faculty member, approachable but slightly intimidating mentor, cultured academic, reliable friend and well-rounded human being, Harry simply seemed to always be a little late for everything that didn’t involve robbing you of your preferred classroom. Also, he flirted way too much, dressed like a sexy grandmother and never submitted grades when he was supposed to. 

“Hey,” he said, then called your name softly. “I think that’s enough.”

For a second, you thought he meant enough reasons to dislike him. Then you looked down at your overflowing cup of water and the puddle forming on the teacher’s lounge counter.

“Fuck,” you hissed, putting the glass jar back in its place.

“That sounds familiar,” Harry sipped his coffee like he hadn’t just said that in a room filled with ancient Markham professors.

You were torn between giving him a death glare or ignoring him altogether, so you just settled for a death glare directed at no one in particular while you wiped your wet hand on the side of your black skirt. 

“Professors,” greeted one of the Plastic Arts teachers, a sweet-looking old lady. She walked up to the counter so she could pour her coffee, standing between you and Harry in the process. “I take it the 103 debacle hasn’t gone smoothly.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Thomas,” Harry said, a playful smile suddenly on his lips. “Someone here doesn’t know when to give up.”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person, Professor Styles. It’s not cute.”

Mrs. Thomas laughed like the two of you were performing a stand-up comedy show. “God, you two are adorable.”

You frowned while she walked away, and even though Harry’s smile stayed plastered on his face, you could see the furrow between his brows. “Adorable?” he asked, voice low. “You?”

“Piss off,” you said for the second time that day.

The 103 debacle, as your elder colleague so eloquently put, hadn’t gone smoothly. At all. Administration admitted to making a mistake and offered, oh so kindly, to relocate one of you to an empty classroom upstairs. Both Harry and you just stood there, looking at each other as if saying “Well, there you go” and waiting for the other to eagerly take room 214. Dark, humid, cold and small 214. After a couple of minutes of painfully awkward silence, the secretary responsible for room assignment suggested a sort of alternation: since the conflicting lessons were taught twice a week, Harry could get 103 on Mondays and you could have it on Thursdays. Neither of you liked the idea, but no amount of “But Sophie…” would change her mind once she came up with a supposedly perfect solution. 

“She’s only saying that because she hasn’t seen your eye twitching while you try to refrain from having a mental breakdown over a classroom,” he said, ignoring the fact you had just told him off. Harry leaned in, annoying smirk on his lips, so only you would hear him when he said: “You can be adorable when you’re whining for more, though.”

He was too close, and you could smell the cologne on the collar of the shirt he wore under his sweater. It was vanilla, sweet and strong like he had been before he turned out to be the kind of guy who insulted you and bragged about having fucked you, all in the same breath. 

“Classy, Styles,” you drank the rest of your water in one gulp so you could get rid of the cup and put some distance between the two of you. He just smelled too good. “You shouldn’t be so quick to make fun of my eye twitch, though. I wasn’t the one using “the humidity in 214 is bad for my hair” as an argument.” 

“I hate that room,” Harry muttered as you walked away. 

Well, that made two of you. 

—

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” you announced to your students. Sunshine flooded the room, casting light on their focused expressions. “You’re going to go through act one again and select a snippet of text so that we can discuss it, and you have to make it so your point —” A determined knock on the door interrupted you. Before you could say anything at all, about a dozen people entered room 103 as if it were expected from them to do so. Strangely, it took you a second too long to realize where you knew most of those faces from: three days ago, they were among your own students as they waited for their professor. One by one, they sat in rows on the floor just like they would in actual desks. None of them made a sound. “Make it so your point about the chosen quote is character-driven,” you continued, choosing to simply not acknowledge any disturbance for a moment. 

Still, there were twelve too many sets of eyes looking up at you. It was unsettling. For the next few minutes, there was a silent agreement between you and the Drama students; the lesson proceeded as they exchanged puzzled looks while pretending to skim the first act of Romeo and Juliet and you anxiously played with your cross necklace. What kind of sick mind game was Harry trying to play here? You wish you knew what reaction he was expecting, only so you could deliver the exact opposite of it. 

“You have ten more minutes,” you said, reminding your students. A few of them nodded as they took notes, but the people sitting on the floor remained quiet and still, eyes on you. “What do you want?” you blurted out. 

“What do you mean?” a girl asked, and you could tell they were expecting you to continue pretending they weren’t there until the lesson was over. Bingo. 

“I mean, what is your goal? Did your professor send you here just to spite me? Is he wasting your time as well as mine? Or are you supposed to learn something by attending my class without my previous consent?”

By then, your own students had dropped their books and were waiting for one of the Music kids to speak up. 

“Today’s lesson is about civil disobedience and other forms of rebellion and how they relate to the cultural and/or artistic aspects of music,” the same girl said. You couldn’t help but admire the way she took the lead, just as you couldn’t help but question Harry’s methodology. 

“What’s your name?”

“Kate.”

“Kate, don’t you think this exercise fails to convey the gravity of civil disobedience? The environment seems a little low-stakes, to be honest.”

“Having low stakes is what makes it an experiment, though,” someone else muttered from behind Kate. 

“You can speak up”, you said. “And yes, it’s an experiment, but it still feels too far-fetched, not even close to a parallel. Once you’re done with the lesson, you should let me know how Professor Styles managed to turn this into a Thoreau analogy. Maybe he should have just taught you how to play Another Brick In The Wall and called it a day.” 

Some of the Drama students snickered from their desks, but Harry’s class didn’t seem to find you amusing at all. Oh, well. You couldn’t please everyone. 

“Since you’re already here, you’re going to learn something. It’s unrelated to civil disobedience but that’s not really my fault, is it? Find a partner that’s actually enrolled in the class about narrative elements in Drama; work on the passage together, from a character-focused perspective, and see if you can relate any of it to your knowledge about art and culture in general. I’m certain someone has taught you about that, even if Professor Styles couldn’t.”

There was a beat of silence, all twenty-four of them staring at you hesitantly. 

“Well? Get to work.”

And so they did. 

—

You zipped up your bag, mind already drifting to the bottle of wine and comfortable blankets waiting for you back home, when someone’s knuckles tapped the door to the classroom. It was neither 103, with its smooth stone walls onto which you could project any material necessary with perfect lighting, or 214, with its moldy smell, but a perfectly decent middle-ground. You had just taught your last lesson of the first week of the semester to a group of eager Literature first-years and even though you were much better at it now than when you first began, it wasn’t an easy job by any means. Shoulders aching with tension, you turned to the door. 

“No,” you said before Madeline could utter a single word. She was your sweetest colleague, and also technically your boss. Madeline was the head of the Literature department and the person who recommended you to the head of Drama when they needed someone to teach a couple of classes on the narrative aspects of plays the students would later perform. Even when you hesitated to take the job and said you weren’t experienced enough to do it, she wouldn’t take no for an answer; Madeline was the closest thing you had to a mother in Markham, always toeing the line between authority and encouragement. 

But she would have to take no for an answer now, because you knew that face. And contrary to her motherly status, she wanted you to go out for happy hour. “Just one drink,” she didn’t even bother denying it. “Everyone’s coming.”

“Everyone who?”

“Everyone!”

Everyone almost certainly didn’t involve faculty over 65, so that left you with less than ten people total. You decided not to bring it up since Madeline could get sensitive about age talk. She was 58 and absolutely outraged by people over 60 that started “acting like they had already dropped dead”. Her words. 

“Professor Styles will be there,” and then she wiggled her eyebrows. Oh my God.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you said, offended, grabbing your purse. You turned off the lights and closed the door, all while she played dumb.

“Nothing, really,” Madeline said with a shrug. “Thought it might be nice to hang out with a fellow young intellectual, ‘s all.”

“Oh, spare me.” 

“You could also figure your shit out before HR needs to get involved,” she paused to see your reaction. There was none. “Just a thought.”

“HR? Are you for real?”

“No,” she said, honestly. “But the two of you can’t keep this up forever, honey. It’s entertaining to watch, but it looks exhausting. You should put an end to whatever this is, if only so you can have a little more peace of mind. You’re both smart people trying to get their job done, that’s all.”

You didn’t say a word. You didn’t want to fight Madeline on this. Harry was… complicated. You hadn’t seen him at all since yesterday’s class and even though you were proud of how you handled the situation at first, you couldn’t help but second guess every move you made while his students were in your classroom. Maybe you should have just made them leave. Maybe you shouldn’t have questioned Harry’s authority so explicitly by saying it was a bad exercise.Maybe you should have just pretended they weren’t there at all. Maybe you should have walked up to Harry himself and thrown a fit because he disturbed your lesson. 

But there was no use dwelling on what should have been. In the end, the lesson was actually productive. Fun, if you might say so yourself. His students proved themselves to be very reasonable people, and the contrast between their perspectives as musicians and those of your students, as actors or future playwrights, contributed to multiple interesting discussions.

“Just one drink,” you found yourself saying to Madeline, not that it mattered. You were already walking together towards the parking lot, where her car was, instead of your usual route. 

“That’s my girl.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked by her side, your black heels making it hard for you to walk on the gravel of the parking lot. The uncomfortable shoes, unfortunately, played a big part in your whole “fake it ‘till you make it” brand of confidence. 

—

The whole table shifted as you and Madeline walked into the pub. You could see Harry from the corner of your eye, fuzzy cream sweater and lilac pants, the shadow of laughter still on his lips from whatever joke was being told before you walked in. 

Two more chairs were placed at random spots, and before you could say anything you were squeezed in between Harry and another professor from the Music department, with Madeline four seats away. This had been a terrible idea. Your thighs were pressed together, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against your skin; there was no move you could make without somehow touching him. 

“Hey,” Harry said quietly, turning to you. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek. “Did you have a nice class yesterday?”

Despite all the imaginary fights you had with him on the last 30 hours, you smiled. Harry Styles had some nerve. “Which one? I teach a few classes everyday, Professor.”

He laughed under his breath even though you both knew you weren’t a particularly funny person. “You know what? You are adorable.”

You could feel your cheeks flaming instantly. He rendered you speechless for a couple seconds, each one making his smirk grow. You licked your lips and then, with less confidence than you’d like, you said: “I know. Still not as adorable as your little backfiring prank, though.”

“First of all,” he started, still with that damn smirk. “It wasn’t a prank, it was an exercise.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“It was! And it absolutely did not backfire. Shouldn’t you know what backfiring means? Aren’t you a book expert or whatever?” 

“Very cute, Styles.”

He murmured a ‘thank you’, choosing to ignore your dripping sarcasm. It drove you crazy. 

Someone cleared their throat, and you realized as soon as you looked up that the whole table was waiting for your order and most definitely paying attention to yours and Harry’s conversation. Your face burned even hotter while you stuttered out the name of your cocktail. 

Your first cocktail, that is. As a storm started outside, one drink turned into two, then three. 

“I should get going,” Madeline said at some point, half the table already gone. Even with all the extra space, you and Harry had shown no intention of moving. “Do you need a ride, honey?”

You thought of your empty kitchenette, a few miles south of Markham, and all the time it would take her to drive you home and back to her house, and her family, under such a downpour. A quick “No, thank you” and she was gone. You turned to the nearest window, your arm brushing Harry’s in the process, to watch the storm outside and figure out if the weather would make it impossible for you to leave, which meant you had made a terrible decision by declining the ride. Sure enough, it was pitch black and the rain was as violent as ever. Oh, well. 

“You have goosebumps.”

“Huh?”

“You have goosebumps,” Harry repeated himself, laughing a little. As opposed to you, he hadn’t had a single drink to slow his thinking. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah,” but you weren’t. Through your protests, he took the beige coat hanging on his chair and draped it across your shoulders. Once you shivered at the touch of his fingertips, there was no lying anymore.

 Harry raised an eyebrow, and you didn’t know what was more infuriating: his smirk, the amazing smell on his absurdly fashionable coat or your uncalled-for horniness, so you decided to ignore all of them. “There’s really no need, Styles,” you said quietly, already reaching to give him back his coat. “I need to get home.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not driving.”

“Well,” he scoffed. “Obviously.”

You furrowed your brows, suddenly very glad you couldn’t see the drunk pout that had just formed in your lips. “Bye, then.”

He grabbed your hand before you could take off his jacket. “No. Let me take you.”

“No fucking way,” you protested. Realizing the three or four remaining coworkers at the table were paying attention to your conversation, you continued much more calmly: “Thank you, though.”

“Come on, Professor,” he teased. “I owe you this one, I guess.”

The gin made him sound so reasonable. He did owe you one, for being such a jerk at all times through the don’t-give-a-shit attitude and how he often brought up that stupid fucking night. Not to mention the 103 debacle and the disruptive prank. He owed you many, actually. 

“I guess?” It sounded more aggressive in your head, but that would do.

So you both said your goodbyes and left, his expensive coat hanging off your back while you walked to his expensive car, as if whatever was his were meant to be shared with you simply because you looked good in it. 

part 2 !

[stellarboystyles]

Make a Move

Harry’s a bartender and she’s a waitress, a match made in heaven. That is, if they weren’t constantly pining over each other like idiots.

4.2k !

She and Harry closed almost every weekend.

Why? Because there wasn’t really anyone else that was willing, so they’re always picking up slack. They were even more short staffed before Y/N came along, and given that she was the only waitress who actually gave a shit about her job, she was always the first choice whenever someone called in sick or quit unexpectedly, which, unfortunately for her, was quite often. Not that she’s complaining, because she and Harry always work the same shifts so it’s always fun. She was so kind to every customer but as soon as any of them were crossing a line she’d be the first one to tell them to back off. Harry was the best bartender on the strip, and everyone local knows it, too. Word travels fast, and his drinks speak for themselves. They make a great team. The rest of their co workers claim that the pair always get better tips, and even though they aren’t wrong, Harry and y/n like to indulge in the private joke that maybe if everyone else didn’t do their job half ass then maybe they’d get the tips that they get every night. Their boss is lucky to have both of them working for him. 

But Harry was just as lucky to be working there. 

That’s exactly what it was. Pure luck. 

When Harry’s mum Anne told her husband that she was pregnant with him, he promised her that he was going to change and be home more often, for them. And he kept his promise, for a while. Harry was such an easy baby, easy going and hardly ever cried. However, three months later things swiftly took a turn when she quickly realised that he was going to be a colicky baby. Seeing her little baby boy in pain, screaming and inconsolable just simply broke her heart, but it just meant that he needed a little more attention. She’d quickly learned his favorite remedy was a warm bath and a comfy swaddle, followed by some cuddles and he’d be right back off to sleep. She still thinks the reason that they’re still so close now is because of that extra bonding time. 

Harry’s dad had always been distant from him. He was never home, And when he was, he wanted Anne’s full attention, and when he wasn’t getting that anymore, because, you know, she was busy raising an infant by herself, he grew selfishly jealous of the child that he created. When he hit her in front of her son, that was it. She made the split decision that she didn’t want this life for Harry, or for her. She waited until he fell asleep that night, packed what she could, took her baby and left. Moved to London and never saw or heard from him again.

Harry was six years old when his mum first got sick. It started out as headaches and a fever that would come and go, but it got worse. To be specific, an autoimmune disease that was attacking her muscles and joints. It got so bad that she couldn’t even brush her hair, let alone take proper care of a six year old. Long story short, Harry learned quickly and at a young age how to take care of himself. when Harry wasn’t in school all he wanted to do was take care of her. He’d always wake up early on the weekends and make her second favorite breakfast...waffles. Her first favorite was pancakes, but he couldn’t make those, only because he knew that his mummy said the stove wasn’t safe and that he couldn’t use it by himself, because he could burn his fingers. 

Three years go by and things are really tough. Anne could no longer work, so without her knowledge, Harry began to improvise. He started selling some of his toys to his friends at school during playtime. By the time almost all of his toys were gone he’d managed to gain thirty five dollars, and he was so proud of himself. But when he saw one of the medical bills totals on the kitchen counter, he knew he was going to have to try something else. Every monday his mum gave him five dollars to pay for lunch at school for the whole week. So instead of eating lunch, he kept it in his backpack with the other thirty five. His friends always shared their lunch with him so that he wouldn’t go hungry all day, and no one ever found out. Week by week the amount seemed to add up quickly. Before he knew it it was the end of the school year he had one hundred and ninety five dollars. He counted it twice just to be sure, but it didn’t matter because it still wasn’t enough.

He was sad, extremely sad and angry. Three more years go by and his mum is in the hospital recovering from surgery. He couldn’t help feeling so many things all at once. His mum was his best friend, why on earth was this happening to her, to him? 

One afternoon Harry was walking home from school. It was gloomy and dreary, typical London weather. He wanted to get home faster so he could get to the hospital to see her, so he chose to make a quick shortcut down an alley to his left. As he walked he noticed a group of boys older than him, maybe fourteen or fifteen, on the side of the alley. Before he could turn around or walk past them, of course, they surrounded him. It felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

He was getting jumped.

“I-I haven’t got anything.”

One of them held his arms in a tight grasp whilst another one yanked the backpack off his shoulders, dumping the contents, including the wads of cash, onto the asphalt.

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

Harry’s eyes instantly widened, struggling with all the strength in his body, desperately trying to get free. He couldn’t let them do this.

“No! Please, please don’t. I’ll do anything you want, but I need that money!”

“So do we.”

A fist landed against his cheek and before he knew it he was on the ground being beaten senseless.

“It’s not for me!” he tried, throwing his hands up in front of his face in an attempt to defend himself. “It’s for my mum, she’s sick.”

“Hey! How many times have I told you to quit causin’ trouble back ‘ere?!”

Harry was wide eyed as he saw a man, probably a store owner since he came around the back corner. They quickly ran off empty handed. The man’s face changed from angry to bewildered as he saw Harry’s face.

And as if on fucking cue, it started to rain. Pour, actually.

“No, no, no…”

Harry scrambles to his knees and crawls forward, trying to salvage the dampened green paper, shoving it back into his backpack.

“Are you alright?!”

That was the moment that Harry’s life changed forever. 

The man, who Harry quickly learned was named Joe, did more than just clean up the young boy’s bloody face. They started talking and Harry told him everything. About his father, the piling medical bills, everything—and in that moment Joe knew he had to help him. 

Every day after that, after school Harry would go to Joe’s bar and work for him. Small jobs—sweep the floor, clean the tables, things like that. He took Harry in, looked after him when his mum couldn’t and gave him advice like the father he’d never had. 

The day Harry turned seventeen was the day his mum was officially in remission. Harry had been saving every single penny he’d made over the last five years, which was enough to really help out with their situation until his mum could go back to work. He was over the moon, he didn’t think he’d ever see the day that she’d be feeling like herself again. 

Harry didn’t really plan on going to college because even if his mum was better, he always wanted to be able to visit and check on her. After he graduated, he moved into the apartment upstairs above the bar, and the rest is history.

And that leads us to now. Four years later at twenty one Harry is everyone’s favorite bartender, who's crushing hard on this truly one of a kind girl that walked into his life only a few months ago, and he can’t remember what life was like without her in it. 

Despite how the job sounds, they both loved every second of it. Especially when they worked together. When they weren’t busy, they were constantly messing with each other, usually it was him teasing her whenever she tripped over her own feet, almost spilling a plate or glass and when she’d come back behind the bar he’d be smirking “y’not drunk are yeh?” and she’d mumble a “shut up.” making him chuckle. 

But they were incredibly soft for each other, there was no way around it. 

One time, Harry called in sick, and if he would’ve seen the look of disappointment mixed with sadness on her face, he might have just said fuck it and came in to work just to make her happy or at least see her smile, despite the food posioning. 

That’s what she did to him. All rationale was lost, even if it was just for a moment. 

When he came back, his co-workers filled him in, telling him that she was all sad and pouting through the whole shift. It made his heart ache, made him want to kiss the pout right off her lips, 

because her lips were so pretty. 

But it also made his heart beat a little faster. 

He caught himself staring more and more as the months went by, their friendship torturing him day by day. It was truly a sick joke—being her friend but not being able to feel her soft skin under his touch, kiss her anywhere, anytime he wanted. 

Was this karma? What did he do to deserve this?

He’s never been a day dreamer, until now. She’s in his head all the time and he can’t stop thinking about what his life would be like if he could just muster up enough confidence to tell her that he loves the way she pushes her hair behind her ears, or how he’s been dying to kiss her since she walked in the door on her first day. 

He remembers that day like it was yesterday. 

***

Harry was wiping down the bar, cell phone cradled between his ear and shoulder as he listened to his boss tell him about his newest hire being a new waitress.

“Hope this one sticks.” he mumbled, a small smirk appearing on his face as he dried off the inside of one of the glasses. “M’not gettin’ paid to wait tables, Joe.”

“Oh piss off, I’m payin’ you more than that.” a laugh was shared between the two before he continued.

“She’s already been trained, but it’s her first day by herself, so be nice.”

“M’always nice. It’s those other vultures you’ve got to worry about.” 

Harry wasn’t exaggerating. The other waitresses were like wild animals, they’d either attack you or try to have sex with you. 

“Just look out for her, will you? Don’t want her bein’ eaten alive on her first day and then she’s too scared to come back.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, I’ll keep y’updated. Have fun on your holiday.”

“Thanks again for taking care of everything, I really appreciate it.”

“S’the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.” the humor in his voice slowly faded, his tone becoming more serious.

Don’t get soft on me now.” his response to Harry’s sentiment makes him chuckle.

“Okay, okay. But m’serious, don’ know where I’d be without your help.”

When he hung up the phone, as if on fucking cue, he hears the front door open. 

***

Everything about her was perfect. Her hair looked like silk, even if it was tied back while she was working with some baby hairs falling around her face. Her skin was flawless—he loves it when she doesn’t wear any makeup, like today. He found her rosy cheeks and naturally long eyelashes to be undeniably adorable. 

“H?” 

His head snapped up at her voice. It was sweet, like the sugar he always puts on the rim of her glass when he makes her mojitos some nights after they close up. Harry thinks he’d do anything she wanted if she asked him nicely.

“Earth to Harry.” she jokingly waves her hand in front of his face. “It’s almost two.”

“Oh, shit. Wasn’t even lookin’ a’ the time.” he chuckled. “Thanks, love.”

“No problem.” Her cheeks were splashed with pink, looking at her shoes before turning to walk away. 

To this day, Harry doesn’t know what on earth possessed him to do this. But for some reason, three words popped into his head.

Make a move.

“Hey.” he stops her from walking away by taking her hand and pulling her towards him.

“What?” she giggles as she turns her head to look at him. 

“C’mere.”

The look on his face was giving her butterflies. He blinked slowly, a small smile curved across his lips.

“Got a new drink idea, can I try it out on ya?”

She lets out a nervous giggle before nodding her head. 

She felt like an idiot because she really thought that he was going to kiss her. She wanted to feel his lips on her lips, her skin. And god, did he want to kiss her. He felt like an idiot because that wasn’t really a move. He wanted to kiss her, so fucking bad but he got nervous. How couldn’t he? She was his friend, and so, so beautiful. What if she didn’t want to be more than friends? It was a scary thought, rejection. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship, he cared about her too much to ruin that. Wouldn’t it be awkward, if things didn’t work out, or she didn’t want him in the first place, and they still had to work together? Harry just might have to crawl under a rock.

But she wore her heart on her sleeve, so she couldn’t really hide the sadness in her eyes as her gaze fell to her hands as he was mixing the contents that were going to go in the lowball glass. It pained him to see her anything but her usual bubbly, sweet self. 

“S’wrong?” Harry frowned, but she shook her head. 

“Nothin’. Just waiting on you, like always.”

His mouth fell open at your accusation. 

“Since when?” he scoffs. “M’always waitin’ on you.”

“When?” she challenges, eyebrows furrowing.

Harry playfully rolls his eyes. “When we were goin’ t’that festival, or anytime we do somethin’ outside of work, yeh always take forever to get ready.”

Because she wanted to look super cute for you, you idiot. 

“I messed up my makeup, okay? Gimme a break.”

She’s sitting on the bar stool and he’s behind the bar, leaning onto his elbows and stopping what he’s doing to look at her.

“Y’dont need tha’ stuff.” 

She gives him a sheepish smile, but Harry’s not having any of it. 

Here goes nothing. 

“Hey.” he reaches over and puts a hand under her chin, finger brushing the skin of her jaw and his touch gives her butterflies. “Look a’ me?”

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, earning a smile on his pink lips. 

“S’true. You’re beautiful and you don’t need it, okay?”

A soft smile graced her lips, making his small smile wider. “Okay, okay.”

“Alright, here.” he slid the glass across the bar top towards her. She takes a sip and her eyes light up, making his do the same.

“Mmm, it’s so good!” she looks up at him, eyes widening, making him laugh. 

She loved his laugh. 

“Know you like to start off with the fruity stuff.” 

“Careful.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I know how much you love those cranberry vodkas.”

“And they’re delicious. Especially mine.”

“Definitely yours.” her comment makes Harry giggle, looking at his hands and you’re positive it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. He looks at her, flicking his head.

“C’mere, I’ll show yeh how t’make one.”

Her whole face lights up. “Really?” and her excitement is so adorable he can’t help but mirror her expression with a laugh.

“Mhm, c’mon.”

She’s standing behind the bar and Harry’s standing behind her, showing her the ropes, as he called it. But when she felt his chest pressed against her back as he went through the steps, she could no longer focus on anything he was saying, which worked in his favor because he stumbled across his words quite a bit at the feeling. They were physically closer than they’ve ever been and she smelled so fucking good. He rests his head on her left shoulder, gripping the bar top in front of her. 

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and he finally speaks up. 

“Wanna try?”

He picks up the lowball glass, bringing it up to her lips. He moves his hand, tilting the drink to meet your lips. The interaction was so intimate, and you could feel his breath on your ear.

“Good?”

His voice was deeper, sending shivers down her spinal cord. She nods and he moves beside her, (much to her disappointment) and leans one of his elbows onto the surface beside him. She turns to him, and takes the glass out of his grasp as he’s taking a sip. 

“S’not nice!” he laughs as she takes a drink, giggling as he gets in her face.

“S’your turn to make me a drink now.”

One hour later and she was three drinks in, which meant that she was on the verge of drunk. She made him two replicas of the cocktail he’d helped her make just before, and he claimed that hers were just as good, but she still wasn’t too sure if he was letting her win or not. She wasn’t drunk, though. 

“Promise me.” 

“I promise.” the smirk sliding up his lips told a different story. 

“Liar!” she giggled, and she tries to walk towards him but her legs betray her as she trips over her own sneakers and falls into his chest. 

“Okay, you’re drunk.” he confirms with a chuckle, catching her by her forearms helping her to stand again. 

“M’not drunk, shoelace is untied.” she tries to lift up her leg to show him the definitely loose laces, but she loses her balance and nearly falls onto the wood floor, and if Harry hadn’t grabbed her hand when he did she would’ve definitely had a sore backside. 

“Maybe I am drunk.” she mumbles, pouting when she hears his chuckle. “Not funny, H.”

His stomach drops when he sees that she’s looking right at him with tears threatening to spill onto her soft cheeks. 

“No, m’sorry love. Didn’t mean it, okay? Promise.” He uses his thumb to brush the skin just under her eye. “Please, don’t cry.”

The rest of the tears subside at Harry’s comforting gesture. They stood like that for a while, eye contact refusing to break before she spoke up. 

“Do you like me?”

Did she really just say that? Was he that drunk? He was definitely more than tipsy, but did she really just say that?! Was he dreaming? Please let this not be a dream. 

His heart thumped in his chest when her fingers started playing with his. 

“Now what’s not to like about you, darlin’?”

That’s sweet, but not what I asked, she thinks to herself.

She could not believe the level of bravery in her blood right now. She wasn’t even that drunk and words that she thought she would never say were spilling out. 

As she was about to respond, she lets out a yawn, her previous thoughts quickly slipping her mind.

“Tired?’ he questions as he cocks his head to the side, a grin sliding up his lips.

“Mhm. Still need to walk home.” she frowns and his eyes go wide.

“Can’t let y’walk home alone-”

“I do it every other night.” she protests, clearly getting frustrated.

The thought of her walking back to her apartment alone at 3 am, sober or not, made his stomach turn. He ignores her attempt at convincing him that she’s fine, because there is no way he’s letting this happen.

“ Y’can stay with me? S’just upstairs.” 

His voice was quiet and it took a moment for her to register what he’d said. 

“Wait, what d’you mean upstairs?”

“There’s a flat upstairs, s’mine.”

The confusion on her face made his heart want to melt.

“C’mon, I’ll carry you.” 

She feels another yawn coming and he picks her up—one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. She lays her head on his shoulder, and he’s so warm—she can’t help but nuzzle her face into his neck and he thinks he could very well pass out, but he won’t, because he’s holding her, obviously. 

He sets her down onto his bed, and tells her she can pick whatever looks comfy from his dresser to wear as pj’s. 

“M’gonna go get some water, okay? Be right back, love.”

She picks out a stones t-shirt and changes into that because honestly, it’s one of the first things she sees and it smells like him and she’s tired.

He comes back upstairs and she’s laying down on his dark sheets, her back to him with her hair fanned out on his pillow. He walks around to the other side and sits down next to her. She feels the bed dip, opens one eye and pouts when she sees the water bottle in his hand.

“I know love, just drink some for me? Y’know it’ll make you feel better tomorrow.”

He encourages her to sit up and he doesn’t let her lay back down until she’s had at least half, and then covers her up with his blanket before 

“I’ll just be on the sofa. If y’need anything in the middle of the night let me know, alright?”

“No, stay.”

His breath hitched inside his throat. He swallowed thickly before replying.

“You want me to stay?”

She nods. “Don’t leave me.”  

She wants him to stay.

“I won’t, s’alright.”

After a small freak out episode in the bathroom while he changed, he gets into bed next to you.

Harry always had trouble falling asleep, but tonight it only took a few minutes and he was softly snoring into his pillow.

The light peeking through the curtains was what slowly pulled her out of sleep. 

“G’mornin’ sleepyhead.”

She couldn’t help the lazy smile across her lips, letting out a giggle as she stretched.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. Do you want somethin’ to eat?”

“Can I have some waffles?”

So, he made her some waffles. Some for him too. Harry didn’t have a dining table so he insisted she stay put while he make them breakfast in bed. He watches her take her first bite and he swears that this is the moment when he truly fell in love with her.

“Mmmm.” she hums, eyes closed with a dopey, syrupy smile across her lips. “So good.”

The reaction made him quite literally crack up laughing, because those waffles were from his bloody freezer and she was acting like Harry had just ordered room service to their hotel room in Paris. 

He’d take her to Paris.

“So, how’d you end up living here?” she wondered out loud, breaking Harry out of his daydream.

He proceeded to tell her everything. About his piece of shit dad, his mum getting sick, getting jumped, and how Joe took Harry in and was the father he’d never had. When he’s finished, her hand is on the back of his neck pulling him into a protective hug, lightly toying with his hair.

“I’m so sorry, H.”

Her voice is just above a whisper and it makes Harry’s eyelashes flutter.

She pulls away and they instantly find each other’s eyes. He gives her a small smile, as if to say, it’s okay.

She looks at him with doe eyes and he can’t help but reach over and pushes her hair behind one of her ears, the space in between their faces becoming smaller and smaller, until his nose brushes hers. 

“Can I kiss you?”

She gives him a small nod.

He cautiously presses his lips to hers. The kiss is everything both of them have ever dreamed of and so much more. Her hand is still on the back of his neck and he’s moved to cradle her cheeks in his hands, and they fit perfectly.

Neither of you want the kiss to end, both of them breathless as Harry’s forehead is pressed against hers.

“I really, really like you, had feelings for you for a long time.” you heart flutters in your chest at his sweet words. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he waited for you to say something, anything.

“I really, really like you too.”

This is my baby, be nice to her. I’ve pulled many all nighters to make this as close to perfect as it can be so I hope you love it <3

Thank you to @oh-honey-styles​ , @for-fucks-sake-h​ and @andwhenshesays​ for putting this Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge together, I’m so glad I could be a part of it!

BIG THANKS to my babies @goldenfeelin​ , @bfharry​ and @avhrodite​ for truly hyping me up and being so supportive, I love you. <3

[punkcupcakestyles]

Sober up

So, quick note: I wrote this for the pypfc that the absolute babes @oh-honey-styles​ and @for-fucks-sake-h​ put together. I hope you enjoy it. 

Part 1

If someone were to ask, there was a lot of alcohol involved. A lot. 

It was too late to pretend it was never your intention. 

It was just that your courage tasted like margaritas. 

***

Harry was an asshole, everyone knew that. He was one of those pretty assholes, with the sweet smile, which made it hard to hate him, but, oh, you tried. 

It didn’t always work, but you tried. 

It’s what matters, isn’t it?

The night when it all began, it was unseasonably warm, and you stepped out of the crowded house to take a break before you could sweat...more. It had been a good idea to wear a dress, cause the light breeze was easing out the warmth of your skin.

You felt relaxed for the first time that night. 

The porch was empty and quiet, which was just what you were looking for: A moment of silence to break the noise. You were settling in, even stepping out of your high heels to feel the cold floor under your feet, when the door suddenly swung open behind you. You turned around, startled by the loud music that was booming inside. Harry didn’t see you, or better yet, he chose to ignore you, as he walked out of the house, carefully holding the waist of a blonde girl as she stumbled on her own feet. 

Tipsy would be an understatement. 

You looked at him carefully, crossing your arms over your chest, as you watched the way he softly guided her out of the house. It was truly a sight to be seen, the girl kept giggling and trying to get out of his hold, as she kept grabbing at him, his shirt, his hair, whatever she could reach. She smiled drunkenly at him and he whispered soft words at her that you couldn’t hear. 

A mocking smile curled up the corner of your lips as your eyes followed him, seeing as Harry helped the girl climb into an Uber and waited for her to leave. 

“Awww, poor baby...are you losing your charm?” You bit as he walked towards you. He was wearing a red worn-out flannel shirt, with a white graphic tee underneath. His black jeans were sinfully tight.

“Wanna find out?” He smirked, brushing off your words as easily as they slipped out of your lips. 

“Thank you, wouldn’t want to catch something,” you said, to his amusement and your disappointment. 

“Or have any fun, that wouldn’t be like you.”

It had been like this for a while, ever since you met him, when he stole your morning coffee cup from you, shamelessly. He kept denying it, though, saying it was you who wanted to steal his much needed coffee before an early lit class. How cruel could you be?

He was a pest, a literal one. You would compare him to a moth if anyone were to ask, but in reality, he was more like some source of light where all the girls gravitated to. All the boys as well. 

Everyone but you.  

He stood next to you, leaning on the handrail as he looked at the empty street. He smelled a bit of soap and a citric perfume, and a bit of spilled vodka and lime. He flashed you a smile, an obnoxious one that let you know he was looking for a reaction from you. You held your breath, still refusing to be the first to give in. 

“Why aren’t you inside?” He asked after a few seconds of silence, and you noticed how his curls bounced a little bit as he suddenly turned to look at you with curiosity shining in his big, bright, green eyes. 

“It was hot. And I don’t know where my boyfriend is,” you mumbled.

He chuckled at this, that kind of low and dry laughter that comes with bad news. You breathed in slowly, letting the sudden dreadful feeling take over your chest. Bad news were indeed coming, you could feel it in your aching bones. 

“What?” you snapped. 

“Nothin’”

“You’re an idiot, did you know that?” You tore yourself away from the handrails, ready to get the hell out of there. Away from Harry and the intense way he always made you feel.

But Harry stopped you in your tracks, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer to his chest. The sudden movement made you crash against him, and your eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at you with that stupid smile of his. 

“What?!”

“Your boyfriend’s fucking his best friend. That’s why you can’t find him.”

The words had barely registered in your brain, but you were ready to fight them. Your hand went to his chest and you pushed him away until you were free of his touch. You could feel the rage boiling in your veins, but all that fire could only be aimed at Harry, he could handle it, he deserved it. 

“Oh, that’s pathetic, Harry, lying like that!”

“Why would I do that?”

“Cause he’s a good guy, unlike you!”

“He’s not that different from the guy you think I am,” he replied, calm and softly, as if you were a wounded animal and he was afraid that you would attack him. Easy, slowly, quietly, that was the best way to approach you.  

“Of course he is!!!”

“Look, I know you cannot be a very good fuck, so I get it,” he sighed as if he regretted saying anything at all. “But he’s cheating on you with his best friend. I’ve seen them. Been meaning to tell you.”

“Margaret has a boyfriend, she’s gonna get married,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest in a victory gesture. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. 

“I never said it was a girl.”

***

It wasn’t with a girl. 

It was his best friend David. 

He was prettier than you, you would give him that.

And even though the realization didn’t come as hurtful as expected, days of torment came ahead. The most annoying thing was the fact that people looked at you as if you were stupid, worthy of pity. You hated the fact that everyone was treating you as if you were made of glass and could break apart if someone held you too hard. 

Everyone but Harry. 

He kept treating you like he usually did; like you bored him to death. His disinterested glare would follow you from time to time, as he bit the side of his cheek, which made his jawline pop even more, maybe waiting for you to fuck up. 

He was fucking obnoxious. 

***

If anything, going out that night had been a bad idea. Your head was fuzzy, maybe from all of the margaritas you’ve had. It was cheap alcohol, so you could only expect a massive headache. 

Once again, you found yourself at the porch, witnessing how Harry helped a brunette get inside a car. He kept his head low, maybe hoping you hadn’t noticed it was him. But you noticed, and you had to let him know. It was the least he deserved. 

“Do you think,” you started to ask as he walked by you on his way to the house. “they know you are a bad fuck and that’s why they’re running away? Cause, dude, something is going on...”

It caught his attention, no doubt, and Harry turned on his heels, walking menacingly towards you. He was taller than you, so when he stood in front of you, it almost felt like you should take a step back. Or maybe two. 

“Do you really think I’m a bad fuck?” He whispered and his voice made you shiver. It wasn’t fear what you were feeling, not quite. It was a new type of excitement, one that only grew as you stare into his eyes and his lips curled into a mocking smile. 

“I bet you are,” you whispered back, hoping to get a reaction out of him. You just didn’t know what you were expecting. 

“Why does it sound like you want to find out?” He cocked his head, still staring into your eyes. He was definitely amused.

“Nah, I’m good with disappointments.”

He took one step closer.

“Are you sure?”

You could feel his warm breath fanning over your skin and the electricity that was scrambling up to his skin. It almost felt like the world had stopped, leaving only and Harry to slowly burn under each other’s stare.

You gulped. Maybe you weren’t so sure after all. Not sure at all.

“What if I’m not?”

Your words were barely a whisper, fueled by your heart beating so hard that it was pressing against your neck. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you felt a sudden urgency to know what his lips tasted like. 

“I knew you liked me,” he smirked before turning around to enter the house. 

***

Every effort you had made to avoid him came to a violent end.

There you were, stuck in his car while he drove you to God knows where. 

You peered up to him, noticing how he bobbed his head to the rhythm of Fame by David Bowie. His two fingers drummed over the steering wheel, and he hummed lightly, focusing on the road ahead of him. He was wearing a green snapback backward, that crushed his curls and a black plaid shirt, that he was wearing unbuttoned halfway down his chest. 

“Don’t pout,” he said when his eyes met yours, and you quickly looked away, suddenly interested in the dust that covered the road. Where the fuck was that party?

It was supposed to be a week getaway, now that your days as a college student where officially running out. Alcohol, party, guilt-free junk food and sex...for those who had someone to fuck. 

No orgies were allowed. That would make it weird. 

The thought occurred to you and you briskly looked at Harry, narrowing your eyes as you saw him smiling. 

“Why didn’t you bring anyone?” You asked and he shrugged, still looking ahead at the road.

“Who would I bring?”

“I dunno, one of your many girls. You must have a list.”

“Didn’t have time to pick anyone up, you don’t know how to fix your bloody car.” 

His accent did things to you when it got rough. 

Not that you would ever admit it. 

“You could’ve left me there. I would’ve called an Uber.”

“Yeah, and then you would’ve told everyone I was an asshole.”

“Oh, I always say that about you. It wouldn’t make a difference,” you smirked, giggling a bit as he turned to glare at you. “And I don’t know how to fix my car cause Andrew always did that for me.”

Harry switched on his seat and his face turned somber, almost uncomfortable, which made you feel bad for some reason. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Were you...did you...fuck!”

“Am I dying of a broken heart?” you helped him. “No, I just wanted an explanation, y’know?”

“Of course you did,” he snorted, and his smile came back as he shook his head in half-surprise. “You would want an explanation so you could tell him his explanation was idiotic.” You tipped your head, looking as his smile as he slowly turned around to look at you once more. “I knew you’d be alright, I should’ve told you earlier.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“I know, that’s what lets me sleep at night,” he said softly, as his lips curled into a half-smirk. 

It felt weird, to be in a car with him without going at each other’s throats. You were natural enemies, like cats and dogs, or some guys and showers. There was no need (or way) to explain the animosity between you two. It was something you could always count on. 

You closed your eyes, sighing aimlessly as he drove around, as a subtle way to let him you were done with this conversation. And every other that could follow it. 

Talking to Harry made all of the feelings come back, made you feel warm and your skin prickled with something that could only be described as excitement. It made you feel giddy. 

You had realized that years ago. You had never even tried to understand it. 

You opened your eyes again when the car came to a full stop, and Harry parked in front of a huge white house. The air felt salty and the music coming from the house was so loud it made you wince a little bit. It took you a bit to gather your bits, and you slowly stepped out of the car as Harry got all your things from the back of it. Leaning on the car, you waited for him until he stood in front of you. 

“Ready?” You asked him, not even pretending that you were gonna help him carry shit. 

He looked at the house and peered at you again as if he was deciding whether he was ready to go in. You looked at him, as his eyes traveled from your eyes to your mouth, and that same electricity took over the air, the same anticipation that almost made you lick your lips. “What?” You mumbled as he stepped so close that he was all you could see. 

“Shhh…Before we get drunk,” was all he said before he pressed his soft mouth to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes fluttered close, shivering as his fingertips pressed to your ticklish neck. It was a soft kiss, a slow one, as he was getting to know you, exploring every second of your reaction. His hand dropped to the curve of your waist, and he pushed you against the car, trapping you between his arms. It wasn’t like you were going anywhere. Not even the thought of fighting him had crossed your mind. Your own hands held to him, slowly grazing over his muscles as you brought them to his shoulders. 

Curiosity was burning in your tummy. It all made sense, all was right. 

He was right, kissing him while you were both drunk would’ve been a waste of a wonderful opportunity. His lips were sweet and soft, and the weight of his body pressing down to yours felt heavenly. Your body molded to his and your heart pumped almost expectantly as he tipped your head just slightly, so he could deepen the kiss. Slowly, you parted your lips for him, moaning as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. 

A loud crash came from the house, and you both broke the kiss, staring at it as you expected it to blow into a billion pieces. But it remained standing, a loud curse filling the air, followed by a million cheers. The party had indeed started. 

Your eyes traveled to Harry before he turned around, wondering if it had all been a dream. Deep down, you had always wondered how it would be to kiss him. It was better than you could ever imagine. 

Why did you hate him again?

***

The rules of the house were quite simple: If you were single, you were fair game. People could hit on you. Things could happen. 

You had never really thought about it, never had to. That’s what Andrew was for, to shield you from the bitter breath of drunk boys while they tried to convince you to fuck them. 

But now that Andrew was out of the picture, it almost seemed like you had a sign on your head that reads “offer to fuck me. I’m open”. So boys kept droning around you, and your veins were already buzzing from all the alcohol they had offered you. 

If only you could take your eyes off of Harry. He had decided to ignore you most of the afternoon, spending his time with his friends by the pool, smiling at girls that kept stumbling his way, as if he were a fucking magnet and they had no other choice. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him, even though you tried to keep your distance, staying by the kitchen and only coming out when it was strictly necessary. 

His skin was almost golden now, and his muscles glistened with droplets of water as he entered the house. His eyes fell on you, and he rolled them as he saw Baz standing next to you, smiling almost lustfully as he leaned in closer and offering you another drink that you subtly left aside. Still, Harry made his way to the kitchen, standing right behind you as he pretended to be looking for a glass. 

“So,” Bas dragged and you realized it was fucking hard to focus on him when Harry was near. “What do you say?” He asked and even though you had no idea what he was talking about, you nodded, out of politeness. His smile spread wide and you looked at him as he left, with a triumphant air on his step. 

“You’re not going up to his room, right? He’s looking for condoms, the twat,” Harry spoke as soon as you were alone and you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him. His jaw was locked and he pushed his bottom lip out, biting on the sides of it as he shook his head lightly. 

“What if I do?” You asked as coolly as you could. Your hands found the edge of the counter behind me and you leaned against it as you tried to copy his usual cool demeanor. As if the world didn’t matter. As if he already owned it. You realized now what you had agreed to. The answer was no, you weren’t going anywhere with Bas, but it wasn’t Harry’s problem. “You’re always saying I am no fun.”

“There are better ways to have fun…” One step closer was all it took for him to take your breath away. Your will quivered under his smile, as he looked down at you and his warm breath fanned over your skin. “Don’t you think?” He whispered and he was made out of trouble. You should stay away from him. 

“Someone could say you’re offering to fuck me.”

“What if I am?” He shrugged, placing the glass he was holding onto the counter right next to you. It was enough to raise goosebumps on your arms. 

He didn’t let you answer. It was probably going to be something stupid, a jab you didn’t mean, you both knew that. So you allowed his fingers to lace with yours, and you followed him as he made his way to the tiny bathroom by the kitchen. 

People could see you, you were aware of that, but they were probably too wasted to care, or What exactly were you doing, following him while your whole body burned in anticipation? Adding your name to an already long list of names?

That was not a question you had an answer for, and you didn’t care much about it. Whatever it was that you were doing, felt like the right choice. 

You would worry about the consequences later. 

His hands are on your body as soon as the door closes behind you, but this time it doesn’t catch you by surprise. You were expecting it, craving him. 

He was shirtless, so there was nothing to hold on to but his skin, so your fingers grazed over his smooth chest and pressed them to his neck as his hot mouth pressed to yours. He tasted like gin and beer and a little bit of weed. His hands settled on your bum, pulling you closer to him until you had no other choice but to wrap your leg around his hips to give yourself some balance. 

Your fingers pushed into his hair and you pulled on his curls, making him moan lightly as his fingers dug into the meaty flesh of your curves. His lips were soon leaving yours and he trailed heavy, wet kisses on your jawline, traveling down your neck at the same time his fingers snuck under the fabric of your cotton blue skirt. 

It felt natural, as natural as hating him felt. 

You sucked in air as his fingertips brushed over the hem of your panties, and his teeth grazed over the sweet spot below your ear, right where your pulse was beating wildly. 

His touch was ticklish, exciting, something new. Your hands fell on his shoulders and pressed lightly to them as he continued to make his way down your body. He kissed whatever sliver of skin he could find, pushing your shirt up so he could suck on the swell of your breasts and humming as he crouched in front of you, which made your feet fall back on the floor and caused you to stumbled a little. 

Your eyes met as he knotted the waistline of your undies in his fingers, pushing it down until they were pooling around your feet. It made your tummy bubble in excitement and your bottom lip rolled into your mouth as you saw him kiss the upper part of your thighs. 

He was taking his sweet time, pressing soft kisses to your hips and your thighs, until you moaned in exasperation, almost begging him to do something before you lost your mind. 

None of you had said a word since you entered the bathroom, and you weren’t going to be the first one to talk. It might break the spell. It might bring you back to reality, and force you to run out of there. Away from him and whatever feeling that was throbbing in your lower tummy. 

“Fuck,” the word escaped your lips before you could even think it through, as Harry bit lightly on your thigh, and his finger slid to your clit to massage it softly. 

You could feel his smirk against your skin. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, right before his tongue slid between your folds. You did, you looked at him as he licked from your center to your clit, forcing yourself not to close your eyes out of pleasure when he wrapped his lips around the pink little bud and sucked lightly on it.

It sent shivers up your body and you had to bite your bottom lip just to hold your moan down. He smirked against you, letting your clit go so he could lick the wetness that was already dripping on your center. His breath swirled on hot puffs of air against you, as he worked on you, licking and sucking like you were the most delicious dessert.

Your leg hooked around his shoulder and both of his arms wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer as he went back to suck and flick on your clit with the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t like anything you had experienced before, he wanted to taste every inch of you, his tongue lapped deliciously against your folds and your knees felt weak, maybe because your legs were shivering with every new movement of his tongue. 

You couldn’t bear it anymore and your fingers tangled on his hair to keep his head still as your hips rocked against his face. It was slow, cause you wanted to enjoy the feeling of his tongue sliding between your folds. Every now and then, he would stop you, so he could suck and kiss on your clit. 

“Fuck!!”

It doesn’t take you long to feel how your walls start to tighten and clench with every new lap of Harry’s tongue. The bubble of bliss in your tummy burst and you pulled hard on his hair as the world blurred at his edges and your tummy trembled with the euphoria of your high.  

Harry’s breath was rough as he forced his forehead to yours and you pressed your fingers to his cheek, feeling his flustered skin before you kissed him. 

“You don’t hate me so much now, do you?” He smirked against your lips. 

“It was a one time only. Don’t get excited.”

***

It wasn’t a one time only. You fucked that very night, in the darkness of his room, with his hand on your mouth so your loud moans wouldn’t alert anyone. You rode him, enjoying the way his thick cock would burn slightly every time you took him all in. He bit your chest and sucked on your tits, leaving faded marks that you had to hide for at least a week. 

You also fucked in the morning, this time in your room, before everyone woke up. Something good had to come up out of your breakup with Andrew, and you had a room all to yourself. It was lazy and slow, and you kissed sweetly, while your arms were wrapped around his neck and your legs were hooked around his hips. 

It was a week thing only, you swore to yourself. 

***

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled against the pillows, his eyes close stubbornly as you turned to look at him. 

4 months had gone by since that party. You were clearly not very good at keeping your promises. 

“Harry,” you whispered, even though you weren’t actually sure if you wanted him to go. “They’ll find out.”

It was the very first time he had spent the night, the whole night, in your bed. You hadn’t even had sex. You were on your period and he came to your door, looking like a capeless hero as he held a bag full of goodies: Ice-cream, chocolate, Nutella, cheese puffs, everything you swore you could never eat, but craved when you were on your days. You spent the night watching Netflix and actually chilling, which was weird enough. 

It wasn’t something you usually did, but he had a cold and wanted to be coddled. So, why not?

“Let’em.”

You still hadn’t told anyone. You weren’t sure how to bring the subject up to your friends. “Hey, remember how I always said that Harry was an asshole and probably had a small dick? Yeah, I’ve sucked him off. Great fuck,” didn’t seem like something you would say. 

Your nose bumped against his, and you pulled your hand out of the warm of your covers to press your fingers to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before you closed your eyes again. 

There was no use in fighting him. 

He usually won. 

***

“I think you should leave through the window,” you stated later that morning, looking at a blank point on the wall. Anything to avoid looking at him. It was harder when you saw him leave. 

“Are you mad? We’re on a second floor!” He asked you, barely able to hold himself up as he was putting on his jeans. His accent was thick and almost dripping with honey. There were very few instances where his accent got rough, which was a shame, cause it made your knees weak. When he was fucking you, deep and slow and your fingers pulled on his hair or your walls clenched around his cock, that’s when his accent came out.

“There’s people downstairs, Harry,” you insisted, even though your tummy twisted in a knot at the thought of him hurting himself because of you.

“We’ll tell them we were studying.”

“They won’t believe it.”

“Then let’em believe whatever the fuck they want,” Harry said, suddenly serious as he stared at you.

“They’ll believe we’re fucking! They don’t need to know that!!”

“Are you...Are you ashamed of me??” He laughed in disbelief, and you felt your face flare up as your eyes went to focus on a loose thread on your covers. 

“You’re not the type of guy I usually date, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry I’m not a closeted gay, babe. Or a stuck-up-horse-riding club boy.”

Your eyes snapped at him, but it was too late. He was already gone. 

***

You had no right to be mad, you knew that much. 

But still, your blood was raging. 

He was sweaty, all of you were. It was one of those stupid competitions that your friend Rose would put together from time to time. ‘Let’s play volleyball, even though none of us really knows how to!” “Let’s run stupidly around campus!” “Let’s all train for a 10k!” 

You couldn’t stop looking at him, the way his tattooed chest glistened and his golden skin were taut around his muscles. He was wearing a pair of white running shorts and that stupid green snapback and his curls were poking out of it as if they were screaming for help. It was the first time you saw him, since that morning in your room, and he looked fucking good.  

As soon as the race was over, the boys had decided to get drunk, and you all followed them to someone’s house, so you could all enjoy the sunny day, without running your lungs out. You were all aware that it defeated Rose’s efforts to keep you fit, but you didn’t care much about it. 

And now, the day was giving in to the night, and you all had had too much to drink. Everyone but you. All you cared about was Harry and the way kept flirting with the blonde girl that sat next to him. 

You couldn’t blame him, she was fucking hot, sporting black shorts and a red sports bra that barely did anything to cover her poking nipples. You would’ve been flirting with her too if you could. 

She put a hand on his leg and leaned over as if to tell him a secret and you almost growled, spreading your palms over the table as you looked carefully at them. You couldn’t stop, and you wished you could say you didn’t care. But you cared, more increasingly as the days went by, and right now you felt like your heart was racing in your chest, preparing itself for the moment it had to break. 

He looked at her, with his eyes half-closed, and allowed her as she leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. She kissed him, hitching her hand closer to his bulge as he kissed her back. 

Your heart didn’t break, it just stopped, it stopped beating and you stopped breathing. You could feel it cracking in your chest, and you could do was stand there and stare at them. 

The girl giggled as she broke the kiss apart and Harry smiled lazily at her, telling her something before he got up from the couch to walk to the kitchen, holding some red plastic cup in his hands. 

He stopped dead in his steps as he saw you, and his eyes went wide as he realized what had happened. Any haziness in his face went away and he stepped towards you, placing the cup on the counter as you recoiled back, trying to look busy in the empty kitchen. 

“Babe…”

“That’s not my name,” you whispered, biting into the corner of your lips as you looked away from him. You were ready to leave. You picked up your gym bag from the floor and tossed it over your shoulder. “And s’not any of my business, Harry. Go ahead, have fun.”

“Don’t leave, please.”

“Why? Do you want me to go upstairs and watch you two fuck?”

“Don’t…don't blame this all on me. Don’t be unfair.”

“Oh, no, you’re right, Harry. I should blame myself”

“You’re the one that doesn’t want anyone to know!!” He insisted and you looked at him with rage firing in your eyes. “I was just…I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’m just...a bit drunk...”

“I don’t need to know, Harry. Let’s go back to what it was, hating each other was easier.”

“You don’t hate me,” he whispered as he grabbed your arm, stopping you before you could leave.

“I do.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If you hated me, you wouldn’t scream my name so loud when I’m fucking you.”

“Fuck off, we’re done.”

[for-fucks-sake-h]

Wanna Be Yours

Bandana wearing sub H feat. edging, love, and a deep devotion.    

Rated: M, mature || Word Count: 4.4k 

The room was dimly lit by a few candles and a small desk lamp tucked away in the corner.  You could hear his deep, steady breaths behind you as you massaged coconut lotion onto your legs, knowing the scent was exceedingly heightened for him.  

You were waiting for it - the small beg that would inevitably fall from his lips when he couldn’t take it anymore.  You’d been here before, you knew the routine.  

So you busied yourself with the lotion, pretending that your skin wasn’t on fire with need.  You couldn’t look at him too much or you’d lose all of your will power to wait for the beg.  But you wanted it so badly.  

A small whimper fell from his lips, sending even more arousal to pool in the pit of your stomach.  He was so close to giving you what you wanted you could feel it.  For as patient of a man as he was in nearly every aspect of his life, this was the only time he let restlessness get the best of him.    

And then you heard it, a breathless “please baby” that instantly sent a zip of pleasure down your spine.  

You sucked in a breath, snapping the top of the lotion closed as you slowly turned to face him, blindly placing the bottle back on your dresser.    

He was sprawled out on the center of your oversized bed, each of his wrists cuffed to the outermost prongs of your metal, wrought iron headboard.  His head was tipped back fully against the mattress, his neck strained as he thickly swallowed and his chest rose and fell intensely.  You could see the way his ragged breaths pulled on the muscles of his stomach, clenching and pulsing weakly. You noticed the way his lips still glistened, having had you sat on his face moments ago - when he brought you over the edge with just his mouth and desperate grunts against your core. Your knuckles turned white from the death grip you had on the iron prongs of your headboard, rolling your hips against his tongue as your thighs squeezed his head. You practically drowned him in your juices and yet he couldn’t get enough, happily gasping for air and begging for more as you climbed off him.

His legs were spread open - thick, creamy thighs on full display to your eager eyes.  And on even more of a display, just begging for attention, was his cock - thick and full and beautifully extending away from his pelvis. He would twitch every so often, the appendage pulsing with the blood from the rest of his body, all focused and pumping into his length.    

God, you loved him like this.  You could basically see his need vibrating off his skin, pulling sharp breaths from his lungs and causing sweat to coat the dip in the center of his chest.  You’d already edged him four times, bringing him right there, but then pulled away - letting him suspend mid-air at the start of an orgasm and watching as it fizzled away.  Each time he whimpered and cursed through it, and you left him laying there with nothing but choked cries and breathless pants until he settled himself, just to do the same torture to him again, over and over.  

Fuck, he was so good each time, taking whatever you gave.  He’d murmur how good it felt and how much he loved you, each time becoming more and more desperate.  The last edge though, you could tell his insides were burning, and his orgasm was so bottled up by that point that he was on the verge of crying.  And that was exactly where you wanted him.  

You quietly made your way over to him, carefully stepping over his clothes that had been stripped off nearly an hour ago. Black jeans, his boxers, a black and white polka dot button down, all haphazardly scattered next to the bed when you made him strip for you, hungry eyes devouring each other as each article of clothing hit the floor.  

You admired him for a moment, watching as he licked and bit his bottom lip, attempting to stifle his pants and quiet whimpers.  You reached out slowly to pet back the curl that had fallen onto his forehead, his neck straining in your direction in search of more contact.  His skin was clammy, a tell tale sign of just how turned on he was.  As if his cock wasn’t enough of a sign, twitching against his will, a dribble of precum connecting from his rasberry tip to his stomach.  It looked painful, and there was a part of you that hoped it was.  

“Being so good,” you soothed as you ran your fingers through his knotty hair.  

He mewled softly at the affection, craving anything you were willing to give him at that point.  His cock twitched harshly when your fingers gripped his roots, barely even tugging, but enough to have him moaning.  He was so sensitive when he was like this and you loved it.  The sounds you could pull from his beautiful mouth from a feather-like touch made your body pulse.  

You leaned down, your breath fanning across his tingling skin as you pet his hair back once more.  A soft brush of your nose against his cheek had him swallowing in anticipation. You kissed him softly, your mouth grazing against his sharp cheekbone until your top lip caught on the edge of his bandana. You smiled slightly at the thought of him sitting on the edge of your bed, hands holding to your hips as you pulled the black and grey skull printed fabric from his hair to secure it over his eyes.  He was so pliant; letting you blindfold him, letting you ease him into bed, letting you cuff him to the headboard, all while being quiet even though his skin was already crawling with need. He was so good.  

You kissed your way across his cheek, softly biting the side of his chin before you pulled your mouth up to his.  His breath came out in puffs, and you were so close you could tell when he licked his lips without even looking.  He stayed completely still as you grazed your lips over his, teasing your tongue across his full bottom lip, loving the way his breath caught in his throat.  You knew he wanted you to kiss him, his mouth begged for it without moving. And when you bit into his bottom lip, sucking it gently as you pulled away with it tucked between your teeth, the most broken moan caught in his throat that he immediately swallowed back down as soon as you released him.  

You smoothed your hand across his shaky chest - rising and falling harshly with a thin sheen of sweat coating his warm skin.  You turned your head to look down the length of his torso, appreciating the way his stomach clenched under your hand as you made your way towards his cock.  

“Please touch me,” he whispered, so soft you almost missed it.  

You scratched your nails along his pelvis, trailing back and forth between his laurels.  His cock jumped at every touch, extending away from his body so beautifully, just screaming for attention.  

“I am touching you.”  

“Please,” he exhaled once more.  

“Where, love?” You promoted before pressing a kiss to his chest, just above his heart.  “Just tell me where, H.”

“Please… touch my prick,” he whined softly, his head rolling to one side as if his eyes weren’t covered and he could look down at you, wait to see if you were really going to give in.

“See,” you brought your lips to his jaw, brushing over his stubble, “all you had to say.”

You tickled your middle finger across his base, slowly pulling the digit up the length of him.  It was a ghost of a touch really, but it had him sucking in a breath as his cock twitched.  And when you teased the tip of your finger around his swollen, raspberry red tip, he let out an actual moan.  A deep, tortured moan that traveled straight to your core.  

You were torturing yourself as much as you were torturing him.  

So you sucked the skin just below his jaw, swirling your tongue over his heated skin as you wrapped your fist around his tip.  He released a breathy “ahhh” as you slid down his length, his precum coating your palm just enough to glide easily.  His head tilted back as you pumped his length, and you watched as he thrashed his head side to side slowly.  He couldn’t stay still, constantly tugging on the cuffs and twisting his head.  It was like he couldn’t get enough but was so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to do with himself.  And you loved it.  

“I’m gonna fuck you,” a wet kiss to his throat, “so hard.”  

“Fuck,” he whined, his hips pushing up into your hand, begging for more.  

“Want that? Want me to fuck you, H?”  

“Yes, shit -” he choked on a moan as you bit into the meat of his right pec, before sucking a deep, purple mark into his skin.  His cuffs rattled above you, his hips flexing once more as you continued to give his length languid strokes.  “You’re killing me, love.”  You could hear the exhaustion in his voice, sleepy and completely worn out.  

You didn’t say anything, instead stippling wet kisses across his chest.  His breathing was heavy, his butterfly expanding as he desperately sucked air into his lungs, his stomach tensing on each stroke of your hand.  You traced your tongue over the outline of it - first the body, then each wing.  You could do it with your eyes closed, following the ridges and curves of his muscles by memory.    

You eased up onto your knees, carefully nestling yourself between his thighs, just admiring him.  You knew he was fucked out already, you didn’t even need to see his eyes.  His breath was shaky, his thighs twitching in time with his cock. His head was tilted back, neck on display as he waited for your next move. Your next touch, your next stroke, your next kiss.  

You ran your palms over the tops of his thighs, squeezing the tiger specifically for a moment before you eased off the bed.  You watched as his head turned in your direction, knowing that he was listening for any kind of movement that would give away what you were doing.  You imagined he had some inkling though, this wasn’t your first time after all.  So you opened your dresser drawer with ease, letting him hear the oak glide out, pause, and then glide back in place.

He mumbled something just then that you couldn’t quite make out, turning to look at him and the way he had his head turned in your direction.  You quietly walked over to him, going to stand at the end of the bed as his face stayed turned to his left, in the direction of your dresser.  

You would never get over seeing him like this.  His body beautifully laid out for you, every inch of him on display, every curve of muscle tense and begging for release.  

“What was that, love?” You asked softly after a beat, his face immediately pulling in your direction.  

His response was barely above a whisper, but eager nonetheless. “Please fill me.”

So he did know what you were getting.  

You crawled up from the foot of the bed, settling between his thighs once more. You pushed them open, his shaky breath only intensifying as he waited. He sucked in a breath through his nose when you licked his balls, and exhaled through his mouth when you gently sucked one into your mouth to roll it across your tongue. You scratched your nails down the outside of his legs, gripping right above his knees for a moment before slipping your hands to the mattress. 

As soon as he heard the cap of the bottle flick open he became a babbling mess. “Please - god, love...”  He was breathless, and moaned without even being touched.  His hips tilted, looking for the contact he was so desperate for.

You squirted some of the cold lube onto your middle finger, watching him writhing against the mattress, his anticipation at an all time high.  The guttural moan that pulled from his throat was almost violent, his head flinging back when your finger breached his tight hole. You watched his face as you slowly slid into him, admiring the way his mouth fell open into a perfect “O” before he was biting his bottom lip to stifle his moans.  He attempted to push his hips down more, a breathless “more” slipping from his wet lips.  

You pumped your finger slowly, twisting on each withdrawal before easing another inside, filling him exactly the way you knew he liked.  The sounds he made were gorgeous; deep, raspy moans falling from his open mouth on every pump.  “God… being so good for me Harry,” you complimented softly as you fucked him.  

“Feels so good,” he breathed, swallowing harshly before moaning again.  His hips moved with you, trying to push himself down onto your fingers as much as he could.  You sucked a kiss into the inside of his thick thigh, biting gingerly as he groaned.  

You shushed him softly when he whined as you withdrew your fingers, quickly grabbing the glass plug that sat beside you to squirt some lube onto the pointed tip.  His head lifted from the mattress, mouth hanging open as you teased the cold glass against him, rolling it across his hole teasingly.  

“Please,” he urged desperately.  You could see his furrowed brows above the bandana, and the deep flush of his cheeks.  If you could see his eyes, you knew they would be heavy and fluttering, completely fucked out in the most alluring way.  

His head snapped back when you eased the plug into him, groaning low in his throat as you filled him slowly, until only the pale pink flower design was visible. Just the sight of him filled like that made your core pulse with need.  He looked so good, and it was taking everything inside you not to devour him.  You were just as turned on as he was, and definitely just as needy for him.  And that was just one of the things that made your relationship special - you needed each other in the same way.  

You kissed up his thigh, gripping his base to tease your tongue across his tip.  His groan was so deep when you eased him into your warm mouth, panting and cursing as you bobbed slowly.  You teased your tongue across his length with every pulling suck, hollowing your cheeks as you lifted, your hand following up his wet shaft.  He liked it messy - soaking him with your mouth as you pumped your hand over him.  

“Shit… fuck, love,” he breathed, just before another groan pulled from his throat when you twisted your wrist as you stroked down, your mouth following right behind.  You looked up through your lashes, watching his chest heave as you held him deep in your mouth.  His head was still tipped back, his neck fully strained.  The vein that ran up the left side of his throat was so prominent it begged to be kissed.  

You sucked harshly as you pulled off him, running the tip of your tongue over his slit just to get one more choked groan from his gorgeously flushed mouth.  You crawled up his body, taking your time to suck marks into the skin of his hip, his stomach, his ribs, the curve of his chest, over his heart, his neck. You straddled him, perfectly seated in his lap as you scratched your nails down his chest and stomach.  He groaned at the feel of you, his cock tucked against your soaked core.  

You both moaned as his tip brushed across your clit on every flick of your hips, your nails digging into his chest harshly as his neck strained as his head tipped back further.  His jaw was so strong, the deep cut of it often having you mesmerized.  You couldn’t stop yourself from falling forward so that your body fully pressed to his so you could nose at his jaw, your hips still rolling the tiniest bit of friction over his length.  

His skin was on fire, and he groaned as you bit at his jaw, sucking yet another mark into his flushed skin.

“Feel okay?” You murmured against his pulse.  

He moaned softly, flexing his hips up into yours more. “I have to come,” he whimpered.  

“You will, baby.”

“I…” he swallowed again. “My dick feels like it’s gonna fall off,” he chuckled lightly.      

He was rock hard, extending up the length of his stomach as you dragged your core over the underside of his cock over and over.  You reached up to thread your fingers through his hair soothingly, gently detangling the thick, knotted locks until you could glide your fingers through it easily.  He hummed throughout, like a puppy when you pet them, soaking up all the attention and love just from your touch.  

“Gonna be good and make me come again though, right?”

He was nodding quickly with a silky moan, “Yeah, yeah. Want you to come.”  

“Mm,” you moan against his throat, “Always so good for me, H.”  

“Please, love.”  He flexed his hips into yours again.  If you just, tilted up the tiniest bit, he’d slip right into you. “Take me,” he begged. “I’m yours.”  

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the sentiment.  He may have been fucked out, but you knew he meant every word he said.  He wasn’t just saying things to get you to give in.  Whenever he was in this space, he was the most honest.  Things slipped from his mouth that came directly from his heart.  He didn’t think or second guess himself ever. He just was, and it was the most beautiful thing you ever experienced.

So with your heart beating rapidly for this stunning man, you eased up until his tip was perfectly aligned with your entrance, and sunk down on him in one go - his full length gliding into you easily, just as you knew he would.  

“Oh fuck, yeah.”  He breathed around a moan, pushing his hips up so that he was fully seated inside you.  

It was overwhelming to go from being so empty and needy to completely full, in every single way.  You circled your hips slowly, keeping him deep as you adjusted to his size.  You squeezed your fingers in his hair tighter, tugging his head back half an inch, enough to send a shock of pleasure down his spine and a groan up his throat.  

“I’m yours too,” you sighed into his neck as you slowly lifted your hips, just to deliberately drop back down onto him.    

“Yeah,” he whined, “Yeah you are. You’re mine. God, baby - fuck me. Please fuck me.”

You adopted an easy rhythm, each drop of your hips into his just as deep as the last.  You swore you could feel him throbbing - that, or you were so turned on that it felt like your pussy had its own heartbeat. Maybe a bit of both, but either way, it felt incredible.  And paired with the noises and gasped curses coming from Harry’s mouth, you just wanted more.        

You propped yourself up on your elbows, hovering over him to watch his head crack back on his neck as he tried to stifle a moan.  

“Just like that,” he groaned, his cuffs clinky noisily above you as he tugged.  “Please don’t stop. Please, please.”  His voice was broken, the beg so strong it made your skin tingle.  

You could see the way his eyebrows were raised, creasing angrily as he laid there, letting you take him for everything he was worth.  Not being able to touch you, not being able to see you, barely being able to move.  You had every advantage over him, and yet he never felt more free.  

You squeezed his hair again, getting a low hum from the back of his throat in return, just before you took his mouth in yours.  His lips were so puffy, his cupid’s bow tucking between your lips perfectly. You were the one humming as you sucked, loving the taste of him and how his lips molded to yours so easily each time.  His mouth was lethal, always giving and taking the perfect amount to have pleasure rolling across your skin.  

“Feels so fucking good,” he moans under his breath as he starts to meet your hips with his own small thrusts.  

His voice was like honey, slow moving and sweet as anything.  The words rolled off his tongue as if he was drunk, practically slurring together in one drawn out sentence.  You knew he was close.  His head was fuzzy and every moan that slipped past his lips was deeper than the last.  It just made you work your hips over his faster, wanting - needing - to get him there.      

“God, you’re so snug. Fit around me perfectly. Fucking made for me,” he babbled as your lips dragged across his cheek and down his jaw.  

You dropped your hips onto his harder, the sound of skin slapping mixing with your moans and echoing around you.  

“Mhm,” you agreed against his jaw. “Just like you’re made for me. No one has ever felt as good as you.”  

“Fuck, oh fuck - god.”  

His groans came on every drop of your hips, and when he felt your core spasming around him it took everything inside him not to let go.  You were close, he knew you were.  He was hyper aware of the way your hips rolled on his, your clit rubbing against his pelvic bone on every thrust.  He wanted to hold out for you.  

You whined his name roughly, sucking a kiss to the side of neck as you ground your hips down on his deeper.  Your pulse pounded in your ears as you lifted yourself up, nails digging into his thick chest as you fucked him harder.  “Oh my god,” you breathed as your head fell back on your neck.  

“Fuck, please, please - you have to come. Please,” he rushed, swallowing down a moan.  

“I’m so close, baby.”  

He groaned louder, the sound shooting sparks across your skin and your arousal coating his length more on every drop of your hips.  He was so deep, it felt like he could hit the actual essence of your core.  

You didn’t even think about it, all of a sudden you were falling back down onto his chest and slanting your mouth over his, reaching up to frantically push the bandana up and away from him.  His head lifted from the mattress, his arms pulled taut above him as your hands pushed through his hair, tugging mercilessly as his tongue met yours.  He was completely still except for his lips chasing yours, absorbing every ounce of pleasure you gave as you fucked him into the mattress.  Hard, deep pumps of your hips, each one bringing you closer and closer.  

You tugged his head back down to the mattress, one of your palms cupping the side of this throat as your other squeezed his hair tighter.  His lashes fluttered in a daze before wet irises met yours.  His brows creased deeper and his mouth hung open in a silent moan as he held your eyes, sinking into the mattress more, letting you take him.  

You were a moaning mess above him, entranced by the look of awe written all over his flushed face.  And when a tear escaped the corner of his eye, stippling down his temple and into his hair, all you felt was heart clenching love.  

You grazed your thumb over his wet skin, just for a choked moan to slip up his throat and another weak tear to slip down his cheek when he squeezed his eyes closed. You cupped his face, kissing him once more before resting your forehead on his.  

“Oh my god,” you breathed against his warm lips. “Come with me.”  

“Fuck,” he groaned deeply, pushing his chin up to catch your lips again, moaning into your mouth as you finally brought him over the edge with a few hard thrusts.  The choked moans that came from his mouth, the look on his face when you pulled back enough to watch him come, his tensed arms and even tenser stomach, every single part of him sent you spiraling.  

You clenched around him tighter, riding out your high as he practically cried through his.  You’d never seen him come so hard before.  He was so vocal - moaning and whining as he drenched your walls.  It felt like it went on forever. Every time you squeezed him tighter, his hips would push into you further, as if he wanted to make sure he was as deep as possible. And he was, he was as deep as he could physically be. But you were so linked emotionally - more than you ever thought was possible - and it only intensified when you were physically linked.    

You hadn’t even fully come down yet, but your shaky hands reached up to unhook the cuffs, because you knew he needed to touch you.  And you needed his touch too.  

Aching arms wrapped around you one by one, squeezing you close to his chest as you tucked your face into his sweaty neck and stroked your fingers through his hair.  His breathing was shaky for a while, slowly evening out as you played with his hair and kissed the spots you knew soothed him - his jaw, his cheek, his temple.  

You slowly lifted off his softening length, both of you moaning quietly as he slipped from you.  But he didn’t let you go far, squeezing you closer to him yet again.  You were silent for a while, listening to him breathe and holding him close.  You knew the bath that you would inevitably take together could wait a little while longer.  You knew that Harry just needed you for a little while longer.  

“I love you,” you breathed against his throat.  

He angled his face down, nudging your head with his chin as a signal to give him your lips.  And you happily obliged, kissing him slowly as your tongues met with the tiniest lick of fire.  

“I love you so much,” he murmured, kissing you once more before whispering a soft “thank you” just loud enough for your heart to hear.  

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. Don’t forget to show all the other PYPFC writers lots of love on their pieces!  

Huge thank you to my babes @andwhenshesays and @oh-honey-styles for beta-ing and being the best hype women, I don’t deserve them one bit. Check out the edit @harryspearlsx​​ made here, I’m obsessed!  

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[harolinastyles]

The Honeymoon

So finally, a little late, this is my piece for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge that the lovely @oh-honey-styles, @andwhenshesays and @for-fucks-sake-h organised. For those of you who read my writing on Wattpad it's basically a peek at Harry and Jessi's honeymoon. Thank you to everyone who reads this. I hope you enjoy! x

Breathe me in, breathe me out, they don't think that they could ever go without.

Rated M for Mature. 4.5K words.

I stumble out from inside our private honeymoon villa and the bright sunlight stings my eyes. I flip down the sunglasses I’m using as a makeshift hairband - a habit I’ve picked up from my husband - so they shield my gaze. Our two weeks here are quickly coming to an end and if it wasn’t for our daughter waiting back home, I don’t think you could drag me away from here. We’ve barely left the confines of the villa but every detail has been perfect, from lazy breakfasts in bed, to curling up with Harry while he reads me poetry, some from books and some that he’s written himself, those are my favourites.

“Ah, there he is,” I whisper. Zeroing in on my target lounging on a giant heart-shaped pool float. He looks so still and peaceful that I wonder if he’s asleep but he flips the page in his book softly and my insides do a little somersault, I’d missed him during my nap - a consequence of the teeny tiny little one growing inside me. My feet tiptoe down the steps as I make my way closer. 

He looks every inch like a tempting meal and I’m dying to taste him - another consequence of my pregnancy. Maybe not. He always looks like a snack. His hair is wet, indicating he’s recently been for a swim and his skin seems to shimmer under the sun's rays. His chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm and my gaze moves lower. The muscles in his abdomen are taught and defined and the tips of my fingers tingle as I imagine brushing them over his warm skin. 

Something between a gasp and a moan leaves my throat as I spot the white, wet boxers, almost see through as they cling to every glorious inch of him. 

“Mmm… you’re alive then?” The low rumble of his voice has me attempting to discretely rub my thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building there. “Thought I would have to spend the entire day by myself.” The accompanying pout on his face would usually be adorable but combined with the facial hair he’s so proud of growing all I can think about is how much I want his mouth. Hell, I want all of him. Immediately. 

“Don’t be dramatic. I’ve only been gone a couple of hours.” I grin as I sit myself down on the edge of the pool, beside his glass of tequila. 

“Feels like a lifetime!” The cheeky glint in his gorgeous green eyes make me shuffle on my bum. He quirks his eyebrows at me when I pick up the amber liquid and inhale deeply before sitting it back down. “I could make you a virgin mojito if you’re thirsty.” He offers. 

“Just like the smell of it. Reminds me of you, of stolen little kisses, moments just for us while you work a room.” I have learned how to share my new husband with his many fans and admirers and the fact that he always makes sure I’m having a good time definitely helps. 

“C’mere,” he growls. He curls his pointer finger in a beckoning motion but I shake my head. 

“You come here!” I tease my fingers up my thighs and open them wide so he can see that I have no underwear on before quickly closing them again. 

“Fuck!” His Adam's Apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard and a loud giggle escapes my mouth as he paddles toward me, looking like a man who can definitely give me everything I desire right now. 

I move my head from side to side as he tries to make his way to the edge of the pool; I reach over and wrap my fingers around the pointy end of the heart and pull him over so he’s floating in front of me. 

“Now what?” He smirks, sitting up on the float while his hands grab for my knees. 

I giggle as I wag my finger at him, “Lie down!” 

He blows out a huge puff of air as he sinks back onto the red heart, folding his arms across his chest and letting a pout rest on his pink lips. 

“What’s the matter, H? Don’t you want to play with me?” 

“That’s what I was trying to do…” his voice trails off as his green eyes fix on my fingers, slowly tracing up my thighs. 

“You know, you’re pretty adorable when you get all huffy,” I smirk. I lean forward, making sure he gets a good look down his shirt to see that I’m not wearing a bra either. He lets out a moan as I softly scratch his thighs and I feel like throwing myself on him instantly. 

“I’m not adorable. I’m rugged, handsome, sexy as hell.” He chuckles gently as I hook my hands under his knees and pull him closer. I drop his legs down on either side of my body and hope that’s enough traction, so he won’t float away. 

“You look really shiny.” I place my hands gently against his swallow tattoos.

“Mmm… I might have put on a little too much sun cream.” His bashful smirk makes my heart race. “That’s what happens when you leave me to my own devices.” 

I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from my chest. He’s such a dork. “Sort of reminds me of the lights up music video.”

“Ha. You hate that video.” He scoffs. 

“Hate watching other people with their hands on what is mine,” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I slowly run my fingers down his toned body before stopping just below his butterfly.

“Yours huh?” he teases. 

“Mine!” I reply while confidently pointing towards my wedding ring. “Legally binding.”

“I like it when you get all possessive, Mrs Styles. Officially making you mine was the best day of my life so far, apart from the day Robi was born.” 

“I’m still not used to hearing you call me that.” My hands inch a little lower. 

“I love saying it. Mrs Styles. Mrs Styles. Mrs Styles.” His fingers wrap around my wrists before I can react, and he effortlessly holds me in place. “Now, Mrs Styles, are you gonna let me fuck you or are you planning to tease me all fucking day?” 

“You know, our three-year-old displays more patience than you!” I snap, well aware of the fact that between his hands on my wrists and his legs either side of mine, he has me trapped. No getting out unless I can make him slip up, lose his focus. 

“Patience? Is that what you expected me to have when you came out here and gave me a perfect view of your panty-less pussy?” His words hurtle at me in a low growl and I no longer care who is in control, I just want him to take me. “You’re very lucky I haven’t bent you over that sun lounger yet…” he trails off as a whimper leaves my throat, “is that what you want from me? Does my pretty little wife want me to pound into her so hard she can’t walk straight? Claim her as mine? Mark her skin? Would you like that, baby?” His green eyes have darkened considerably and I can tell from the strain in his white boxers that he’s just as needy as I am. 

“Yes. Please, Harry?” I beg. Before I can process that he’s let me go, he’s climbed out of the pool and places a hand on my shoulder. He holds his other hand out in front of me and when I grab on he practically hauls me up off the ground. Despite his urgency his hand holds mine carefully as he pulls me toward the sun lounger which is more like an outdoor four poster bed. He stops at the bottom of the piece of furniture and pulls me towards him. His hands trail up my thighs as he presses his hardened length against me. He drags my clothing with him as his hands slide over my bum, giving a hard squeeze which sends shivers all over my body. “I love this arse,” he teases while giving it a playful tap.

I reluctantly take a step back from him and hold my hands above my head so he can easily remove the t-shirt. 

“Now, who’s impatient?” He chuckles while effortlessly pulling the fabric over my head and tossing it away with a careless flick of his wrist. “Beautiful,” he whispers. His eyes drink me in like fine wine and I moan needily as his fingers trail from my collarbone, over the swell of my breast and down my stomach, pausing imperceptibly where the beginnings of my baby bump has started to show. His fingers dawdle where the edge of my panties would be and I try to wriggle higher. 

“Harry…” I murmur as his hands move to grip my hips. 

“Shh. I got you,” he says as he presses a kiss to the scar on my collarbone, sucking hard until he’s left his mark. His tongue pokes out to wet the spot, and he continues to trail wet, ravenous kisses down my chest until he reaches my breasts. He cups the left one in his hand while his mouth makes light work of sucking and flicking the nipple on the other. 

“Please?” I beg as he switches. I need him to touch me or I will explode. 

“Shh…” he coos and my hips buck into his hand as he slides a finger through my folds with a featherlight touch. 

“Please Harry? I need more.” I whine as he presses his finger to me with a miniscule amount more pressure. 

“Adore it when you beg for me, baby.” 

We’ll see who is begging in a second I think to myself as I drag my nails up his muscular thighs. 

“Fuck!” He yells as I trace the outline of his dick before sliding my palm over him. 

“So… you gonna give me this? Or just tease me all fucking day?” I steal his words from earlier and a high-pitched giggle bursts from my mouth as he picks me up before quickly putting me back down again. 

“Don’t want you on the bed,” he mutters out loud before grabbing my hands and pressing them against one of the posts, “lower.” He presses his hand to my head and carefully pushes my upper body downwards until I’m bent over with my arse in the air. 

He hums as he drags his fingers along my spine and my entire body shudders with anticipation. “Look at you,” he coos while he caresses bum, “proper little work of art, can see how wet you are for me, gonna hold on tight?” I moan as his fingers slide between my thighs, circling where I ache for him before pressing firmly on my clit. 

“Mhmm.” It’s the only sound I can manage as he continues to tease me, the exact way I like. I shuffle forward so I can hug my upper body to the post, the wood resting against my shoulder. A whimper leaves my lips as he slips a finger inside me and my cheeks flush as I can hear my wetness in the quiet of the secluded grounds. 

“Shit! I need you, baby,” My husband’s voice is laced with hunger and I press myself further into his hand.

“I’m yours, Harry. All yours,” my voice is breathy and just as starved as his. His fingers slick with my arousal rest on my bum as he shuffles down his boxers and my skin tingles when I feel his tip pressing at my entrance. His right hand digs into my flesh as he stands perfectly still and my mouth falls open to tell him to get a move on but before I can make a sound, he slides inside in one smooth motion causing all the air to exit my lungs.

“Feel so good,” he moans and I agree whole-heartedly as my body accommodates him. I squeeze around him to let him know it’s okay for him to move and move he most certainly does. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into me with a force that almost knocks me off my feet. I grip the post tighter as Harry’s hands grip my hips, his second thrust more restrained than the first.

He shifts his stance ever so slightly and I let out a loud “OOHHH!” as his movements are now hitting exactly where I want them to. 

“Know exactly how to take care of you, baby” he groans. I feel his fingers in my hair and a jolt of electricity shoots through me as he winds his hands in it and pulls, it’s gentle at first but as I moan louder he pulls harder. The pain mixed with the pleasure he’s providing feels so good that my orgasm is almost upon me before I realise it. 

“Fuck me harder, H! I’m - god, I’m so close!” 

“Jesus! Fuck! Me too!” He grunts. “Squee-zing me so - tight! Fingers…” the last word comes out as a sharp intake of breath and my fingers have moved to my clit before I even fully understand his instruction. 

“Shit! I love you Love you! Love you!” I repeat the mantra over and over again until Harry’s loud moan drowns me out. Both hands now have a death grip on my hips as he holds me perfectly still. The wetness I can feel between my legs means we’re both going to need a shower but right now I don’t think I can move. The term fucked out is an accurate description and I’m sure if Harry lets me go then I’ll just fall to the floor in one satisfied little heap. I wish honeymoons lasted longer than a few weeks.

-----

“Is it time to call our favourite girl?” Harry calls from the kitchen as he gets us both something to drink. After our escapades by the pool, we’d moved to a relaxing bath which quickly turned heated as did drying off afterwards. We’ve just finished dinner and now is our usual time to call the little missing piece of our puzzle. 

“Mhmm!” I yell back. 

“You sure all you want is water?” His voice grows closer and I reach for my laptop which is open on the coffee table. 

“Yeah, and you better put some clothes on,” I smile as my eyes roam his butt-naked body before taking the bottle of water he’s holding out towards me. 

“What for? She can’t see me through a phone call,” he grins as he flops down onto the sofa beside me, the ice cubes in his Tequila rattle against the glass. 

“Not calling. Your Mum asked us to Facetime tonight.” I straighten out the sundress and run my fingers through my hair as if my mother-in-law isn’t well aware that I probably spent all day in bed with her son. Lord knows she’d caught us together enough times. I press my hands to my cheeks as I feel the warmth spreading there.

“Facetime? I thought that was a no go after Robi had a meltdown on day one?” He places his glass on my thigh as he reaches for a pair of discarded boxers that lie on the floor. 

“Apparently our girl misses us and is giving Grandma Twist a hard time so she’s hoping seeing our faces will help.” I explain while I watch Harry wriggle into his underwear. He reaches for a black hoodie that has sat on the arm of the sofa since we arrived here and pulls it over his head, he looks so soft and cuddly that I yank him back down beside me as soon as he slips his arms into the sleeves. 

“I know seeing your pretty face would make me feel better,” he says as he presses a soft kiss to my lips and clicks to start the call. 

“Such a charmer.” I grin and snuggle myself into his side as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. The connection stutters for a while before settling down and Anne grins as she says hello. 

“Mummy!” Robin yells excitedly before she shakes her head and then buries her head in the crook of her Grandma’s neck. “Daddy, all hairy!” she wails. 

“Am not!” He protests before running his hand over his facial hair, “oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mumbles as he pushes himself up from the seat. 

“Where are you going?” I grip his arm tight. “She’ll settle down in a bit.” I didn’t want him to miss out on talking to her, I know he’s missed her. The two of them go almost everywhere together back home, I’ve even found her waiting impatiently outside the bathroom for him before. 

“Just talk to her. I’ll be back.” He bends over and places a kiss to my forehead. My heart hurts as I watch him walk away. 

I turn back to the screen as I hear Robin’s hissy fit get louder. 

“Shut up!” she snaps at Anne and my anger fizzles over. 

“Excuse me?” I exclaim. 

“Grandma said I no have a cookie!” Her lips purse together in an angry little pout as she throws her arms across her chest. 

“I don’t care what Grandma said, you don’t speak to her like that, it’s not nice and you hurt Daddy’s feelings.” 

“Daddy sad? Where he go?” She says, her eyes focus on the empty space beside me while she leans in closer. “I WANT DADDY!” I can see her Grandma flinch at the volume of her voice and I feel bad that so far this call is doing nothing to calm my daughter, Anne must be at her wits' end. 

“Robin, calm down. Daddy’s here.”

“Tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes!” Harry’s yell is barely audible over our daughter. 

“Robin Ann Styles if you don’t quit screaming I’m going to turn this off and you can go straight to bed, are you listening?” Anne says firmly, and she quietens down. Her sniffling breaks my heart, maybe it was selfish of me and Harry to come on this honeymoon for two weeks, she’s never been away from either of us for more than a few days before.

“We’ll be home soon, just two more sleeps, sweetheart. We miss you.” My fingers stretch out towards the screen, wishing they could take the place of Anne’s which are gently wiping away her tears. 

“Miss you, Mummy” She breathes, her tongue pokes out to lick away her snot, making me shudder. 

“Hey, Daddy found you some pink shells yesterday!” I smile. It was the one thing she’d begged Harry for when he’d asked her what she wanted him to bring home. Every day, he’d disappear for an hour while he combed the beach for pink shells. He had found plenty of purple ones, orange ones, even golden coloured ones but none in the colour his little sweet pea desired. His dazzling grin as he arrived back victorious yesterday was enough to warm my heart for an entire lifetime. 

“He did? I see?” Her mouth slowly turning up into a small smile. 

I glance over my shoulder and still find no sign of my husband. “H? Where are you? Bring the shells for Robin, she wants to see them!” 

“BE THERE IN A COUPLE OF MINUTES!” His voice booms through the house causing me to flinch. 

“O-kay!” She yells back quietly and I watch as she lumbers back onto Anne’s lap. A smile settles on my face as I watch my daughter snuggle into her Grandma’s embrace, she cups her head softly against her chest, her thumb stroking softly over her granddaughter's cheek. It makes me feel warm because her Daddy holds her the exact same way. 

“Judging by your tan, you guys have at least made it outside then?” Anne chuckles as Robin quietens down, so much so that I think she might fall asleep. “Wait, what the hell have you done to your shoulder?” 

“Oh!” I can feel the blush creep over my cheeks as I glance at my right shoulder, the angry purple bruise had started to appear a few hours after Harry had fucked me against the bedpost. “I - uhm…” 

“Did somebody want to see some shells?” His body bumps mine as he falls into the space beside me and honestly I want to smother him in a grateful hug for saving me from answering that question. 

“Me!” Robin suddenly springs from her sleepy state, her wide dimply grin a mirror image of her Dad’s. “Oooh… they twisty like ice cream,” she coos. Her body leans in for a closer look and I rest my head against Harry as he throws his arm around me. 

“Do you like them?” I snuggle closer when I hear the nervous wobble in his voice. Performing in front of 60,000 people. Easy. Waiting to hear if his daughter likes her shells. Bag of nerves. I let out a giggle before placing a kiss to his hoodie clad chest. 

“Yay, you cut the whiskeys!” My head immediately snaps up towards Harry’s as my daughter's words ring in my ears. I cup my left hand to his cheek, my thumb brushing over his smooth upper lip. 

“Hey, I liked that.” I blow out a slight puff of air. 

“Uh oh, Robi! I think you got me in trouble with Mummy!” He smirks, quirking an eyebrow at me. 

“No be mad, Mummy! He bootiful!” 

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” I’m unable to stop myself smiling as my eyes continue to drink him in. My body tingles with desire as he leans towards me.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers against my ear. He presses a teasing kiss there before straightening up and turning his attention back to the screen. 

“So… you like your shells then?” 

“I wuv ’em, Daddy.” She’s cuddled herself back into Anne and her eyes are so heavy she can barely keep them open. 

“I love you.” The tinge of sadness in his voice is obvious and as his fingers grip me tighter I know he is missing Robin just as much as she is missing him. 

“Wuv you and Mummy.” She yawns loudly before falling quiet again. 

“Okay, I’m going to let you guys go. Put this little madam to bed.” Anne smiles. 

“Has she been that bad?” Harry asks. 

“Oh, the past few days I’d swear somebody switched her with the devil. She stayed with Danny and Pam yesterday and decided Severus would be her new dress up buddy. Well, he didn’t take kindly to that, so he gave her a nasty scratch on her leg and that set off the tantrums. Didn’t want anyone to look at it that wasn’t you guys. Then she had a nightmare last night. She just misses you. She’ll feel better now she’s getting some rest. So will Grandma.” She chuckles. “Now go, have fun! Enjoy your time together before you have another little handful, they’ll be here before you know it.” 

My fingers automatically press against my tiny bump. I honestly can’t wait to meet him. I have a feeling it’s a boy this time but maybe that’s just my heart ruling my head. 

“Love you, Mum.”

“Me too.” I quickly add. “Thank you for taking care of our baby.” 

���Are you kidding? Despite her moodiness I love having her here. She’s Grandma’s little sunshine.” She beams. “Now go before you wake her and she causes a minor thunder storm again!”

Harry closes the laptop once we’ve exchanged a last set of goodbyes. 

“Baby?” he questions. His arms wrap around me and he turns me to face him. 

“I know. I miss her too. You ready to go home, Mr Styles?” I press a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“I love you!” He exclaims, pushing me backwards so I fall down onto the sofa. “Do you know that?” 

“I do.” I answer honestly as his body straddles mine. 

“Make me so fucking happy -” he slides his hands up the side of my body, stopping on my ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of my boobs, “-and horny.” His smirk makes his green eyes twinkle with mischief. “I can’t wait to watch this little bump grow.” He bends to press a soft kiss to the fabric of my dress, exactly where our little one is busy growing. “You know, I don’t think I told you this… no nevermind it’s silly.” he shakes his head before turning away from me and burying it in my side. 

“Hey, no. Tell me, H,” My hand moves to rest on his head, fingers automatically combing through his messy curls. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” His right hand fists the material covering my bump as he presses needy kisses to my side. 

“Course I won’t” My fingers scrape gently along his scalp and he presses into my touch. 

“I was really nervous about this,” he breathes as he continues his trail up my side. 

“About kissing me? Pull the other one, Styles!” I scoff as he nips his teeth against the side of my boob. 

“No, well, kind of. I was nervous about the honeymoon,” his words tickle my skin as he slips the strap of my dress off my shoulder, “felt like everyone expected me to get you pregnant. I mean it’s not a secret we want more kids, and Robi is three now. I felt like everyone thought it was time and then when you told me you were pregnant at the wedding this giant pressure lifted off my shoulders. It’s been so good just to enjoy this time together, to enjoy you…” his words trail off as he presses a kiss to the sensitive spot below my ear. 

“Sweetie, why didn’t you say something?” I turn my head to capture his pink lips in a kiss. 

“You were already stressed about wedding stuff. Made everything perfect for us. Was beautiful. You were beautiful. Then you told me about this little one so it turned out all right in the end, didn’t it?” His hand presses to my stomach as his lips ghost mine. 

“I guess it did. I love you.”

“Love you too. Now come on, there’s still one more place in this villa I want to have you before we leave. That outdoor bath has our names on it.” His deep chuckle makes my skin tingle. I will miss this place but I can’t wait to go home and begin my forever with Harry.

[jewish-space-laser]

Miles & Black Coffee - Part One

“When you’re on a golden sea, You don’t need no memory, Just a place to call your own, As we drift into the zone...” 

-Island in the Sun by Weezer

Hello, and welcome to part one of M&BC! She’s split up into parts, a day late, and a bit rusty... but she’s here! It’ll be my first new piece of writing since I rejoined tumblr, so it’s a bit nerve-wracking. Thank you to Kate @andwhenshesays, Anne @oh-honey-styles, and Anna @for-fucks-sake-h for organizing this entire challenge, you’ve brought so much joy to our little tumblr community. We love you all dearly ♥️ (4.5k words)

xoxoxox Tile

Warnings: mild drinking, mild drug use (just weed)

You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before….

or

the one with campfire conversations, cabin getaways, and enemies that were never really enemies after all.

MONDAY

Pine trees and cornfields flew by in a blur as you stared out the window of your roommate’s minivan. Every once in a while, there’d be a pasture of cows or a horse ranch. It had been exciting at first, but now you were just bored. 

“How much longer?” You called over the music, trying to keep the whine from your voice. It had been hours since you left your apartment this morning, and you’d only stopped once to stretch your legs and take a bathroom break. 

“The GPS says we still have an hour and a half to go,” Callie groaned, stepping a bit harder on the gas pedal.

Normally, you loved road trips, but this particular drive was more cramped than you’d bargained for. There were seven girls packed into the van, and you’d been unfortunate enough to get squished into the backseat with your twin sister and her girlfriend, who hadn’t stopped with the obnoxious PDA since the car got on the freeway. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to will away your nauseating carsickness. This week had been marked into your calendar for months, and you’d be damned if you let this god-awful car ride ruin it for you. 

Callie, your college roommate, had a cabin in northern Wisconsin that she’d been raving about for years. She’d been going there with her family for decades, every summer since pre-school, she’d said. According to her, it was a beautiful property, equipped with a private lakeside beach, fire pit, and a full bar. 

It was going to be the perfect getaway. You and Callie had rounded up all of your girlfriends, packed all of the essentials for a spa night, junk food, board games, movies. You’d packed four swimsuits just in case; the weather forecast looked fantastic, high seventies and low eighties all week long. 

It was going to be the perfect vacation. Well, almost perfect. 

Harry was going to be there.

Harry, the constant thorn in your side. Harry, Callie’s older brother. Harry, the one who eats all of your food whenever he visits. Harry, the one who constantly picked fights with you. You and him had never gotten along, not even for a second. 

There wasn’t a single person alive who got on your nerves more than he did. Generally, you got along with most people, but Harry was the exception to the rule. You couldn’t seem to shake him off. 

You weren’t about to let him ruin this trip, though. There were going to be fourteen people staying at the cabin, so it should be a piece of cake to avoid him for a week; there were plenty of other people to interact with. And even if you couldn’t avoid him, you were going to let his inevitable snarky comments roll off of your back. Well, you’d try to, at least.

Perhaps that’s what annoyed you most about him, the reaction you’d have from the smallest fight. With anyone else, it was water under the bridge… with Harry, you thought about it for days afterwards, thinking of better comebacks you should’ve said or ways you could have changed your schedule to steer clear of him altogether. He made your skin prickle with irritation, and turned you into somebody you didn’t like very much. 

It had been months since you’d seen him, not that you’d been keeping track. He typically visits Callie a few times a semester, but his senior year was more intense than he had anticipated, according to his sister. He just couldn’t spare the two hour drive from his university to yours.

But now it was summertime. Gone were the papers, projects, and responsibilities… it was finally time to relax and have fun. You only had one year of college left before graduation, so you and your friends wanted to make the most of it. Harry and his friends had just graduated, so they were at the cabin for their last hurrah before real life kicked in. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you were excited that Harry was bringing some of his frat brothers along. You and your ex had just ended things recently, and you were finally feeling ready to get back into the dating game. Being trapped in a cabin with a handful of cute guys felt like a dream. 

Finally, after what felt like centuries, Callie slowed the car down and turned onto a dirt road. The other girls in the car started desperately peering out the window to get a glimpse of the lake and surrounding forest. 

The moment the cabin came into view, your jaw dropped. You knew Callie’s parents were loaded, but this hardly looked like the rustic getaway you were expecting. There were three buildings, each labelled with a birch bark sign. Two speedboats and a pontoon were docked at the beach, inflatable tubes and paddleboards littered around the sand nearby. 

It wasn’t until Callie parked and shut off the engine that you heard a heavy bass thrum coming from the building marked MAIN CABIN. The other two buildings were labelled GUEST CABIN and SHOWER HOUSE. You were snapped out of it when Olivia and Jane, who had been sitting in the middle bucket seats, swung their sliding doors open and practically fell onto the ground. 

“I don’t think I remember how to walk normally,” Charlie, a girl from your art history class, groaned, “like, we were sitting in that car for so long….”

“Oh, shush,” your sister, Morgan, scoffed, “at least you got to sit up front. I was crammed into the back between these two.”

Both you and her girlfriend, Isobel, huffed in protest, but it wasn’t worth picking a fight over. You’d have plenty of time to bicker later. For now, the fresh air and cool breeze were like heaven after a long road trip.

“The boys beat us here,” Callie remarked.

Sure enough, there were two other cars already parked in the driveway. Back behind the main cabin, a plume of smoke rose into the air. You could hear loud laughter, loud enough to drown out the trap music they had playing. 

“They’ve started a bonfire!” Olivia squealed, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “I’m ready to get partying… it’s four in the afternoon and I’ve spent all day in a car. I need a drink.”

A few others were laughing and nodding in agreement, already making their way towards the boys, but you hung back. You’d party later, but after spending an entire day stuck with six other people, you just wanted to be alone. Plus, you wanted to drink tonight, and you’d never get around to unpacking your bag if you were wasted. 

You managed to dig your duffel bag out from the pile of luggage in the trunk, letting it fall to the ground with a thump. Callie had just been finishing up with a phone call when you looked up. 

“Hey, you’re not joining the others?” She asked. “I was about to head over, they’ve got a fire going. Just had to call my mum to let her know we made it.”

“I’ll join in a bit,” you promised “but I want to unpack my things first… where are we all staying?”

“You’re in the main cabin, I have you sharing a room with Charlie, is that okay?” She questioned. You nodded quickly, relief flooding over you. You liked all of the girls who came on the trip, but Charlie was by far the easiest to get along with. “Harry and I each have our own room in the main cabin, too, so you won’t be alone. Everyone else is in the guest cabin, though.”

“The guest cabin,” you giggled, slinging your bag over your shoulder as Callie lead you into the main building, “this place is swanky, Cal.”

“We host all of our family reunions here,” she shrugged, “we need lots of space. Plus it’s fun for occasions like this… we’re just lucky my dad is letting us use the boats. He treats those things like they’re his own children, only Harry is allowed to drive them this week.”

You made a face at the mention of her brother. “I’ll be staying far away from the boats, then.”

“Oh god,” Callie groaned, “I know you two don’t get along very well, but please try to be civil… we’re here for a whole week, after all.”

“I’m always civil,” you protested innocently, “it’s him you need to worry about.”

“Always civil,” she scoffed, “we both know that’s not true, but I’ll let it slide.”

Okay, so maybe you had a slight temper when it came to Harry, but nine times out of ten, he was the one who started the argument. You were never the type to actively seek out conflict, but Harry seemed to thrive off of it. Whether it was eating all the food from your half of the fridge, throwing his dark blue t-shirt in with your load of whites, or playing his guitar in your living room until three in the morning when you had a test the next day… it felt like he was out to get you. 

And he was never apologetic. Of course not. He probably got off on watching steam blow from your ears. 

You took a deep breath as Callie led you up a wooden staircase, trying not to let yourself get worked up. The cabin was gorgeous from what you’d seen on the main floor. Though you hadn’t lingered, you’d noticed that there was a bookshelf that took up an entire wall, packed to the brim with books with faded spines, vinyl records with worn edges, and an assortment of candles and bookends sprinkled throughout randomly. You couldn’t wait to explore the entire property. 

Photographs lined the walls of every hallway, snapshots of Harry and Callie running around as kids. There was a hilarious picture of a young Harry crying as he held a fishing pole, a bare hook dangling from the line. The Styles family clearly had a great sense of humor. You made a mental note to take a photo of it on your phone later; it would be perfect ammo for the next fight that Harry would inevitably start. 

“This is the bathroom…” she drawled, “no shower though. We all just use the shower house, which isn’t really as bad as it sounds. Just make sure you bring clothes with you, otherwise you’ll have to walk across the lawn in just your towel.”

You grimaced at the thought. As she continued to lead you down the hall, you saw two doors, one with CALLIE’S ROOM written in bright pink bubble letters, and the second with a wooden plaque, the word HARRY written in what was clearly a child’s handwriting. 

“This is technically my parents’ room, but we use it as a guest room if it’s just us kids,” Callie explained, stopping at the last door in the hallway, “they have a king bed, so I figured you and Charlie could just share.”

“That’s fine,” you assured her, not hesitating to drop your heavy duffel onto the side of the bed closest to the window, “this place is awesome, Callie.”

“Right?” She grinned. “I’m stoked for the week, it’s gonna be so fun.”

“You should go down to the bonfire,” you told her, placing a hand on your bag, “I’ll come join as soon as I’m done.”

Luckily, your roommate of two years understood that you needed alone time sometimes, so she left you without protest. 

This was exactly the recharge time that you needed. You were the kind of person who loved being around friends, but there was only so much socializing you could handle before you needed a break to be on your own. Even though you hadn’t spoken much on the ride to the cabin, being squished into a mini-van with six other girls drained your social battery. Giving yourself a moment to breathe and relax was necessary if you were going to rejoin the group.

Pressing the shuffle play button on your spotify, you smiled when the soft melody of your favorite folk song thrummed through your headphones. You swayed from side-to-side as you unzipped your bag, which had been packed to perfection. 

Four swimsuits, a different outfit for each day (plus a few extra items… overpacking is better than underpacking), sunscreen, bug spray, all of your toiletries. It was fun to organize everything into the empty wardrobe by the window; looking at all of your stuff just made you more excited to be here.

Time flew by as you danced around the room. Most of your things were put away, and you’d stashed your empty bag under the bed. The one thing you hadn’t put away yet was your assortment of swimsuits. It had been difficult picking out which ones you wanted to bring, but you’d settled on three bikinis and a one-piece with the sides cut out. You were itching to change out of your leggings and t-shirt; they felt gross against your skin after sitting in the van all day. 

Just as you went to pick up your navy blue sequined bikini top, a hand abruptly clamped down on your shoulder. 

“Holy shit!” You spun around on your heels, hand flying to cover your beating heart. You were less than pleased to find Harry standing there, wide-eyed and trying to mask his amusement by biting down on his lip. 

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he chuckled, “forgot how jumpy you are.”

“I’m not jumpy,” you frowned, pulling your headphones out of your ears and crossing your arms over your stomach, “what are you doing in here?”

“Nice to see you too,” he scoffed, dimple indenting into his cheek, “I was just using the loo, then I was gonna go back to the party, where we’re having fun. Foreign concept to you, I’m sure.”

You rolled your eyes, turning around so he couldn’t see how hard you were scowling. He always knew just what to say to get your blood boiling.

“Are you implying that I don’t know how to have fun, Harry?” You asked sarcastically. 

“Ah, I knew you were smarter than you looked,” he grinned. “Cute swim top.”

It was only then that you noticed his attire. Well, lack of attire. He was wearing the smallest swimming shorts you’d ever seen, his chest tanned from the sun and completely bare apart from a single cross necklace that hung over his sternum. His hair had grown out since the last time you saw him, and it looked a bit ridiculous with his sunglasses on top of his head. 

He looked good, not that you’d ever admit it. Luckily, you were fantastic at masking your wandering eyes; he had a tendency of walking around your apartment in his boxers during visits, so you’d had plenty of practice.

“Shut up,” you groaned, throwing the bikini top back onto the bed. You’d been planning on wearing that one, but Harry ruined it with his gross comment, just like he ruins most things for you. 

“I’m quite incapable of shutting up,” he mused, throwing himself down onto your side of the bed, “you should know this by now.”

“Trust me,” you were completely unamused, still standing with your arms crossed over your stomach, “I’m well aware.”

“You should come join the party,” he continued speaking as if you hadn’t said anything, seemingly unfazed by how visibly irritated you were, “it’s the first day and you’re already being a buzzkill. Maybe you should try like… try stepping out of your comfort zone, just for the week.”

“Thank you so much for that lovely unsolicited advice,” you said sarcastically, “now if we’re talking about comfort zones, you laying on my bed is definitely out of mine.”

“Please, you love me on your bed,” he smirked, closing his eyes, “this is a dream come true for you.”

“Are you delusional?” You were running out of patience. “Did you hit your head?”

“Why?” He said innocently. “Are you thinking about playing nurse? Because I hate to break your heart, but I’m not into wet blankets. Maybe if you loosened up a bit.”

If he wasn’t gone in thirty seconds, you were going to scream. He seemed to be enjoying himself, arms crossed behind his head with a twinkle in his eye as you stared daggers at him. 

“Are you quite done?” You spit. “I can feel my IQ dropping every time you speak. Plus, I need to change before I come down.”

“Ooh, can I watch?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

That was it. “Harry, get out, okay?”

“Jeez, okay, fine,” he grumbled, rolling clumsily off of the bed, “so bossy, you are.”

You pointed a finger towards the door, leveling him with the steeliest glare you could muster. “Out,” you repeated.

“You should come down sooner rather than later,” he said, completely unbothered, “I’m sure you’ll be much nicer once you’ve had a drink or two.”

He was gone before you could think of a response. The annoyance bubbling inside you was so intense, you felt like you wanted to break something. Instead, you punched your pillow a few times to release some tension, taking a deep breath to compose yourself after.

You wrinkled your nose at the blue bikini top, choosing to wear an orange floral patterned one instead. You’d never give Harry the satisfaction.

~~~

The fire was absolutely roaring. 

It was perfect. The fire pit was lined with wooden logs, the tops shaved off to make benches. There was hardly enough space for all fourteen of you, but you managed to squeeze in as you all roasted corn and hot dogs over the fire. It wasn’t too windy, so you didn’t have to worry about smoke blowing into your eyes, but the bugs were relentless. 

The air around you smelled of smoke, bug spray, and good food. There were a few different conversations happening, and every once in a while, a few people would break out into loud, contagious laughter. 

Harry had tried to talk to you when you came down, but you’d avoided him like the plague. You had absolutely nothing nice to say to him after his snarky comments in your room, and any further interaction with him at this point would just end in disaster. Thankfully, he was quickly distracted by some of his frat brothers, and he hadn’t tried to approach you again all night. 

Now, you were chatting with Olivia and one of the boys, Luke. By the time you’d gone down to the bonfire, everyone was several drinks in. You’d been forced to play catch-up by way of tequila shots, so you had a pleasant buzz running through your veins.

“This is a perfect summer night,” you sighed happily, pulling your skewer from the flames to keep your corn from burning. 

“Almost perfect,” a boy named Archie corrected, “we haven’t been out on the lake yet.”

Harry and three of the other boys had arrived a night early to get the boats ready, and now that Archie mentioned it, the pontoon was looking mighty tempting. The sun hadn’t fully set, but dusk was beginning to settle in, blanketing the forest with pink and orange hues, a gorgeous reflection of the sunset above you. It was the perfect time to go out on the water.

“How do we feel about the pontoon?” You wondered out loud. There was no way you’d all fit, but you could go in groups. 

“It’s too buggy to be on the water,” Callie wrinkled her nose, “I’m getting eaten alive as it is.”

“I’m down, as long as I can smoke a spliff while we’re out there,” James, one of the other boys, shrugged, “obviously I’ll share, I brought tons.”

A few others around the circle chimed in with their interest, and before you knew it, people were standing up to make their way over to the docks. You weren’t the best with names, but much to your relief, you’d introduced yourself to everyone going on the boat. Obviously, you already knew Morgan and Isobel, and were somewhat friendly with Jane, Archie, and James. 

“I’ll come along, too,” a voice behind you yawned. When you turned around, you immediately felt yourself melt. Ryan, a boy you’d had a single class with freshman year, was stretching his arms out as he stood up, and he was looking directly at you with a flirtatious smile. 

You’d had a major crush on him for the entirety of your class together, but you’d been too shy to say anything to him. He was a whole year older, after all, and that had been intimidating when you were eighteen. 

You returned his smile, biting down on your bottom lip shyly. 

“I guess I’m going too, then,” Harry sighed, shoving the last of his hot dog into his mouth before dusting his hands off. 

Immediately, your face dropped. Harry snorted when he saw your expression, digging around the pocket in his swimsuit to retrieve a key. 

“I’m the only one allowed to drive the boats, remember? Dad made me promise.” 

Your shoulders slumped. You’d completely forgotten that Callie had mentioned it to you earlier. You weren’t about to turn down a sunset boat ride though, especially now that Ryan was coming along as well. 

Everyone scarfed down the rest of their food in a rush as Harry went over to untie the boat and make sure it was good to go. You watched as he leaned far over the edge of the dock, so far that nearly fell face-first into the water before righting himself and trying again.. 

“Hey,” Ryan had walked next to you, following your line of sight, “he’s gonna fall in, isn’t he?”

“I hope so,” you giggled.

“You were in my History 204 class, weren’t you? Sophomore year?” He asked.

Your entire body flushed. You didn’t think he’d noticed you at all, let alone enough to remember you years later. Having Ryan up at the cabin, talking to you, felt like a dream come true.

“I was a freshman, but yeah, I think so,” you nodded nonchalantly, “I hated that professor.”

“Oh god, same!” He laughed, shaking his head, “such a drag, just constant pop quizzes!”

“Ugh, yes!” You turned your body towards him fully. “And that midterm assignment….”

“Don’t even get me started,” Ryan pretended to shiver in fear. 

You laughed loudly, and from the corner of your eye you saw Harry turn to glance in your direction. Upon a closer look, he’d managed to wrangle the boat so it was right up against the dock. 

“All aboard!” He shouted.

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous antics. He always thought he was so funny, especially when you were the butt of his jokes. You hoped he’d be too busy driving to bother you. 

Luckily, Ryan seemed keen to stay by your side, even helping you step into the boat by taking your hand to keep you balanced, so Harry didn’t have much of a chance to say anything. By the time the boat was moving, everyone was sitting in a circle on the floor, clipping in the life jackets that Callie had forced us all to wear. 

As soon as the wind blew through your hair, you tilted your head up and closed your eyes. Lakes didn’t smell great, but you’d always loved it. It was classic, nostalgic. You’d spent every summer of your life swimming in Midwest lakes, so it felt just like summer.

James was true to his word, and pulled out four fatly rolled joints, passing them around with a lighter. You didn’t do this often, but it felt like the perfect moment. The sun was disappearing fast, and soon enough you’d be able to see the stars.

At some point, Harry slowed the engine down to a gentle hum when the boat reached the middle of the lake, getting a couple of the others to help him throw the anchor over the edge. Afterwards, he moved back over to the driving console and fiddled with a few buttons until quiet, staticky music sounded out. He then sat down across the circle from you, immediately accepting one of the joints from Archie. 

You stood up on your knees, and looked around. Water lapped lightly against the sides of the boat, so it took you a moment to find your equilibrium. The silhouette of the tall pines surrounding the lake were awe-striking. 

Nobody wanted to break the silence, so you didn’t. The weed was starting to take effect, making your body feel heavy and your head feel light. You started to lay down, unclipping your life jacket to use as a pillow. Slowly, your friends followed your lead, the sounds of shuffling and buckles popping open momentarily interrupting the tranquil silence. 

You watched the sky change from pink to a deep blue, only turning your head away when the first stars became visible. Morgan was laying next to you, staring straight up at the sky. To anyone else, she looked like she was lost in thought, but you knew her better than that. There was a slight frown, watery eyes, a little crinkle across her forehead... she was worried about something. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, trailing a hand down her arm. She let out a long exhale. 

“This is gonna sound so soppy,” Morgan sighed, “but I can’t stop thinking about like… how different I would be if I could just, change things about myself.”

“I like you the way you are,” Isobel frowned, sitting up slightly to look at her, “plus, you can change things about yourself. People do it all the time. New hairstyles, piercings, clothes. You could completely rebrand yourself anytime you want.”

“She’s not talking about her appearance,” you said softly, squeezing Morgan’s hand, “she means… like, changing who you are, at your very core. Things you can’t help.”

“I get that,” Ryan chimed in, “I think about that, too. If I could change one thing about myself, I would make myself more motivated. My life would be so different if I could just… alter one tiny thing.”

“Exactly!” Morgan nodded. “I would… make myself less impulsive, I think. I have so many regrets, and it’s all because I never properly think before I act. I’d be so much better off if I could just learn to be more careful.”

“I like how spontaneous you are,” Isobel hummed, “but I think I know what you mean. If I could change anything about myself, I’d make myself less anxious. Anxiety has always held me back so much… I mean, fuck… I haven’t even come out to my family yet, even though I know they’d support me. I’d be so much happier if I could appreciate the good things in life, rather than stress about how to keep them.”

“I’m with Isobel,” Harry spoke. He’d just taken a rather large pull from the joint, so his voice came out rougher than gravel. “Anxiety is such a bitch, and it’s like, out of our control. It’s kept me from talking about my feelings so many times, and I feel like I’ve missed out on some really good friendships because of it.”

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, you felt happier than you had in a long time. You’d smoked just enough to feel numb, and the waves were rocking against the boat so gently that it felt like you were floating. You took a deep breath in through your nose, feeling the crisp forest air fill your lungs before exhaling. The stars were shining in the cloudless sky, crickets were chirping along the shore, and soft music was filtering through the cheap boat stereo. It was peaceful, listening to your friends pour their hearts out. 

Each person took a turn sharing what they would change about themselves. Archie would get rid of his bad temper, James would become a better listener, and Jane would be less self-conscious. 

“What would you change?” Morgan turned to look at you. 

You and your twin sister were very different people. So different, in fact, that you sometimes forgot that you were identical. In moments like this, when her eyes were watery and hooded, voice thick with sadness and hope, that you were reminded of how similar you could be. 

“If I could change anything about myself….” you mused, closing your eyes. “I think I would… let things go.”

“Let things go?” Archie echoed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “like, let go of the past. Whenever something bad happens to me, I let it really get to me. Negative memories and feelings just… constantly eat away at me. I wish I could just wake up in the morning and think about the future… because thinking about the past is exhausting.”

Nobody spoke after your confession. Nobody tried to assure anyone that they would be okay, or convince anyone that they didn’t need to change. There was something comforting about lying in a circle with your friends, your sister… even Harry, because you were all flawed, and none of you knew what the future would bring. You all found solace in the fact that you were here, right now, laying in a circle on a boat, with an old jazz song ringing through the air.

And who knows… maybe someday, you’ll all find a way to change the parts of yourselves that bother you. Maybe you’ll learn to appreciate them. Maybe your flaws will end up helping you in the long run. 

But for now, none of you were alone. And that was enough.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I love getting feedback, so let me know what you thought! xoxoxoxoxoooooxxxxxxooooooxxxoooo Tile

[fromyourstrulyh]

The Sweetest Fruit (SNEAK PEEK)

A/N: Hello! This is a preview to my very, VERY late submission for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge! This is long overdue but I have finally gotten around to writing this! A few disclaimers: 1) this is unedited so chances are that at least parts of this preview might be changed, 2) this will contain the teeniest bit smut in the fic that’s to come and with that said, 3) this is my first time writing smut ever, so please be gentle with me.

Also, thank you to the lovelies Anne (@oh-honey-styles), Kate (@andwhenshesays), and Anna (@for-fucks-sake-h) for hosting this project and making it happen! ☺️

— • — • —

“G’morning, love. How’d you sleep?” He asks.

The question is so simple, so innocent. Yet the tone of his voice is raspy which says otherwise. It makes your body tense. You know that’s how he sounds in early mornings shortly after he wakes. It’s also how he sounds when he just needs you and right now, you know what he wants when you become hyper aware of his erection poking the back of your thigh.

“Hm, slept well, H. You?” You tried to play it cool but Harry knows you like the back of his hand.

He chuckles. “Best sleep I’ve had in a long time. But I had to get up early to get something for breakfast.”

You hum. “Yeah? Is there anything you’re craving? I can prepare it for you.”

“Yeah, actually. Was havin’ some fruit earlier but I want something sweeter. Got any ideas as to what I can have?” You feel his hand trail down your stomach and you feel the goosebumps rise on your skin. You shiver at the suggestive tone of his voice and the feeling of his hand getting closer and closer to where you need him. You exhale shakily, trying to maintain your composure, but you feel it slowly diminishing.

You turn around in his arms so that you’re facing him. Your hips grind against his, letting him know exactly what you want.

“No clue.” You reply innocently, looking up at his face through your lashes. His eyes that were once a bright green have darkened. Harry growls and the next thing you know, his lips are on yours.

— • — • —

COMING SOON - TBD