#harry styles imagine

[gurugirl]

Baby Daddy | friends to lovers (to parents)

Summary: After you have a one-night stand with your good friend Harry and become pregnant he doesn't know for certain that the baby is his, but he has his suspicions.

A/N: Requested! Here & Here. This was originally posted on Patreon.

Word Count: 13,995

Warning, smut, pregnancy trope (there will be talk of y/n going through her pregnancy and all that entails but not in great detail), mention of abortion, alcohol consumption, teeniest bit of angst, lying, fluff

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You stared down at the pink double lines on the stick that indicated you were pregnant. How could it be? It was a one-time thing! He’d only come inside of you once (and you’d also only had sex the once). How was it possible that he knocked you up? You shook your head and frowned as you sat down on the toilet lid and thought back to that night 7 weeks before.

~~

Harry was there for you. To console you after the gut-wrenching breakup with Joe. Which had kind of surprised you. Your roommate had been at work so you called your best friend, Erin, and she was busy already but told you she’d see you the next morning as soon as she could. You called your cousin. Voicemail. And then you called Harry, not thinking he’d even pick up. But he did – I need to go out for a drink. Joe just broke up with me. Come get drunk with me.

Harry showed up at your apartment and wrapped you in his arms and you sobbed into his armpit, which smelled really nice you thought, and when you looked up at his face to tell him as much he laughed and kissed your forehead, “You’re too adorable to cry. Come on angel. Let’s go get us a drink and talk about everything.”

One dirty martini got you yammering on and two had you sitting far too close with Harry grinning dopily. Three had you complimenting his green eyes I always thought you had the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen… and spilling intimate details about you and Joe that no one else knew.

And four? Well… Four martinis had you pressed into the wall next to the bathrooms with Harry’s hot mouth all over yours as he confessed how he’d always wanted you. And then it had Harry calling a taxi to bring you both back to your place.

“Shhh!” You giggled as Harry collapsed on your mattress and pulled you down with him making you nearly knee him in the balls.

“You shhhh!” He pawed at your bum and then ran his lips against yours as he closed his eyes, mouth half-cocked in a smile.

You weren’t being as quiet as you should have been. Your roommate could’ve heard you and Harry and that would just have opened up a whole can of worms you weren’t willing to delve into.

See, not only did she think you were still dating Joe, you and Harry were good friends. Since grammar school. And your roommate was one of your closest friends who was also very good friends with Harry. So, keeping quiet while you were on your bed with him at 2 in the morning as you unbuttoned his jeans was imperative.

He was just trying to distract you from how upset you were about Joe. He bought you drinks and had a few of his own. He kept pulling at your lip when he’d see you start to pout, and he’d make a dumb joke or compliment you so you’d feel better. Then you two were laughing and swaying together on the dance floor to one of those popular radio songs that was kind of sexy with a slow beat, he whispered into your ear that you were cute, and then his hand found your hip and the whole world stopped.

That’s how Harry wound up in your bed pressing kisses to your neck as you both hastily undressed. That’s how he wound up between your legs, eating you out until you whined that you wanted him inside of you and so without care or thought about what could go wrong or what you were getting yourself into he slowly pushed himself in and you gasped.

“Oooh, fuck that feels good…” he breathed when he felt you wrapped around him. Every rock of his hips pulled and then pushed his cock through your walls.

He whispered to you like that all throughout. Soft and sexy. His deep voice had you tingling and his cock had you absolutely gushing. Everything about having sex with Harry was intimate and sweltering. You’d never been fucked so good in your life and even though you were still upset about your recent breakup, Harry’s dick and his dirty mouth were pulling you through the murky heartache a bit faster.

He fucked you so good you saw stars when you came. And the fact that you came in the first place was a feat in and of itself. Because Joe had never once made you come in all the time you dated him.

But it had been the best. It was just what you needed in that moment. His hands and lips on your body, his deep voice in your ear telling you how he’d always wanted to do that with you, messy hair, sloppy kisses, wet thrusts…

And when he came you told him to come inside of you and you felt every bit of that as he pumped into you, gushes of his sperm filling your insides as he kissed you softly through his orgasm while you gently ran your fingers into his hair.

All of it was so good. It could have been like a fairytale, some sort of epiphany where two friends suddenly realize they’ve been in love all along and they live happily ever after. But the problem was you were both a bit tipsy and you’d fucked without a condom. And the following morning when he ducked out before Esie woke up was the last time you two ever spoke of your drunken night.

And now here you were with a positive pregnancy test that looked up at you tauntingly.

You’d had your suspicions but hoped you were wrong. You started getting a touch queasy around 10 am while you were at work and your normal vanilla latte didn’t sit right with your tummy anymore. And then there was the exhaustion. You were so tired you were falling asleep on the couch by 8 pm every night and Esie teased you about it.

But the biggest clue was when your period didn’t come. You were regular like clockwork and you knew then but just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

You weren’t sure what to do. You knew without a doubt it wasn’t Joe’s. You two had been having issues a month before he broke up with you and you hadn’t slept together since then. That left one option for the father and you certainly weren’t going to tell Harry about it. At least not right away. You figured he didn’t deserve to be tied down to you like that. Perhaps you’d just get an abortion, or maybe you’d have the baby and never tell anyone who the father was.

Whatever you decided, it wasn’t going to be an easy decision.

. . .

“Harry’s here,” Esie spoke when you walked into your apartment after work. She was sitting on the couch, “In the bathroom. Just wanted to let you know so you don’t have a scare when he walks out. You’ve been so jumpy lately.”

You gave her a weak smile and nodded, “Oh. Thanks.”

You kind of wished he wasn’t in the bathroom. You had to pee badly. Maybe worse than you ever had in your life. That was another thing, as the weeks drew on your bladder somehow seemed to shrink and you were constantly peeing.

The moment he opened the door you raced past him to take your turn.

“Well it’s nice to see you too, Y/n,” he laughed as you pushed the door closed and sat on the toilet in relief.

There was no time for niceties. Your bladder was about to burst. And not only that… you were in a bit of a foul mood. As nice as Harry was, you just wanted to get into your PJs and curl up with a book and ginger tea to soothe your queasy tummy. You really weren’t keen on entertaining him that evening.

When you finally joined the pair in the living room you’d already put on your comfy clothes and washed your face clean of makeup.

“Oh, you staying in for the night?” Harry spoke as you plopped down into the soft cushion.

“Yeah. Not feeling very good right now. Why? Are you guys doing something?”

Esie laughed, “Y/n’s been really forgetful lately,” she turned to look at you and tilted her head, “It’s Harry’s birthday today, Y/n. We were gonna take him out. Remember?”

You groaned and dropped your head back into the couch cushion, “Fuck. I totally forgot. I’m sorry, uh,” you looked at Harry and forced a smile, “Happy birthday.”

He shrugged, “It’s fine. Just another day. You don’t have to come if you’re not up for it, Y/n.”

You shook your head and pushed yourself from the couch to stand, “No. I’m coming. Let me just get dressed…”

And yet the other thing that was becoming… well, a thing… was that some of your clothes were a bit too tight in the waist. In the morning you could put on almost anything from your closet and it’d feel normal. But by the end of the day, your clothes had suddenly shrunk. The first pair of jeans you pulled up your legs buttoned but they were tight. So you cursed and tore them off, kicking them away before settling on leggings and a sweater.

At that point, you were around ten weeks and you had yet to go to the doctor, which you knew was bad but you weren’t sure what to do. Part of you wanted to have a baby, even if no one ever knew who the father was. But the other part of you wanted to continue on in life as you were before that night with Harry. Before you got pregnant.

Your small group of friends were already at the bar when the three of you arrived. Everyone ordered drinks and you had a water.

“Not drinking tonight?” Seth commented.

You shook your head, “Not feeling the greatest today.”

Harry sat down next to you and put an arm over your shoulder, “You didn’t have to come. I know you’re not feeling great. Stomach bug or something?”

You turned to look up at him and in that moment you felt a bit of relief. Like there was nothing to be scared of. Harry was a good guy. Someone you trusted and could rely on. Maybe having the baby wouldn’t be so bad. Especially if it turned out anything like him.

“Yeah, I think so. Just feeling blah…”

“Well thank you for being here. It wouldn’t have been the same without you,” he grinned and those damn dimples were like an elixir, soothing and restorative. Maybe it was pheromones or just being tucked under his arm so close or being given his attention, but you knew for sure that he was attractive, you’d always thought so. But now? It had morphed into some dreamy kind of residue that clung to you all the time. Made you wish you could just reach up and press your mouth to his. Tell him the truth and see what happened.

You thought about it often. That night. How ardent it was. You’d never had it like that before. You two just fit together so well. Everything slid together like it was a key into a lock. He touched you just how you craved, his warm lips were sensual, his words, his voice, his body, his laugh.

Harry stayed by your side all night. Everyone sang him happy birthday and he pinched your arm when you told him he was getting old. You couldn’t tell if that was just him being himself around you or if he was kind of flirting with you. But you brushed off that thought easily. He could have any girl he wanted and even though you sometimes wondered about the way he was looking at you, you couldn’t allow yourself to get hung up on that.

You had bigger things to worry about. Much bigger things. And just being next to him with his fingers at your shoulder, his deep raspy voice in your ear, the subtle flirting… it was in that moment that you made your decision about what you were going to do with the baby.

After you finally booked your first appointment with your doctor your decision to keep It was crazy but you wanted it. Doing the whole single-motherhood thing might be insane but you were determined. Somehow you felt a connection to the little life growing inside of you and the idea of being without it suddenly felt worse than letting your life go back to the way it was before.

It was months before anyone caught on. Before your best friend Erin figured it out. You were glad that none of your friends were observant enough to notice too soon (and that the weather had been cool enough that your wearing baggy sweaters didn’t raise any eyebrows). You felt like you needed those few months to adjust to what things were going to be like. To make a plan, to settle it within yourself that you were going to have a child and you were going to do it alone.

Well, mostly alone. You weren’t sure when or if you’d tell Harry. It might have been selfish to keep it to yourself but somehow you felt like it would mess up his life. He’d be forever stuck in your little town. Kind of like you probably would be.

“Can I ask you something,” Erin whispered as she pulled you aside.

You sighed. You’d noticed her eyeing your belly region since you arrived at her house. And on that particular day in May, it was oddly sweltering hot so you refused to put on anything that would have you sweating more than you needed to. You were at the point in your pregnancy where your comfort started to take precedence over hiding what was happening in your body. You couldn’t take it any longer. Five months pregnant and the baby was already bigger than was normal. Your doctor had made a joke that you’d have a 9 lb baby. Which didn’t sound funny to you at all.

Of course, Harry would make a massive baby. You wondered if he’d been big when he was born too.

“I know what you’re gonna say and it is exactly what it looks like,” you put your palms on both sides of your growing tummy.

Erin flitted her gaze down to your tummy and up to your face as she put her hand over her mouth, “Oh my god. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I needed time to let it sink in. Just didn’t want to deal with talking about it really. It’s embarrassing.”

Erin shook her head, “No it’s not. You know you can trust me. Right? So it’s Joe’s?”

You blinked your eyes and looked down at the grass under your sandaled feet. You’d rehearsed what you’d say to everyone but you hated not telling the whole truth, “I haven’t gotten a paternity test but…” you shrugged. Hoping that was enough. Not a lie but certainly not the whole truth.

 “Oh wow. So he knocked you up and then broke up with you? Or wait… does he not know?”

You shook your head, “No one knows. Except for you now. And the doctor of course. Oh, and my mom. That’s it.”

Erin was having a little backyard barbeque. Most of your friends would be there. You figured with your outfit, a pair of linen shorts with a stretchy waistband and a tanktop that should have been a bit breezier but instead was rather tight, people would notice. Not everyone had arrived yet but you were anticipating a coming out of sorts. It made you nervous but you couldn’t really hide it anymore.

“So no alcohol for you then,” Erin snickered as she placed two bottles of wine on the outdoor table.

“Yeah. No booze for me for a bit,” you laughed with her. It was nice to have your best friend in the loop finally. You had wanted to tell her so many times. Nearly did the moment you saw the lines on the pregnancy test. But you just never found the right time to do it and selfishly you wanted to keep it a secret a little longer before everyone found out.

And just as you assumed, everyone who came, who knew you, took note of your obviously pregnant belly. Those who knew you asked about it, while those who didn’t didn’t. Most were perfectly polite. But your thoughts and attention were elsewhere because you were most nervous to see Harry. To face him and take in his reaction.

You were in the kitchen putting buns on a platter when he finally joined you. You hadn’t really looked in his direction much when he arrived because you were too nervous to see his face when he noticed your belly.

“Hey,” his voice was soft and disarming. You turned to look at him as he walked up behind you and squeezed your shoulders, “Gonna tell me what this is all about?”

You looked down at your tummy and then pulled another bun from its package and shrugged, “Well, I’m pregnant. What more should I say?” You laughed as you glanced at him and then back down to the platter. The words felt acrid because you knew why he was asking and now you were going to have to lie to him.

“I can see that, Y/n. How far along are you?” His expression was serious. He was clearly not in the mood for jokes and you could understand why.

Was he doing mental math? He probably was. Harry was not a dumb man. His first question to ask how far along you were indicated as much.

“About 5 months.”

It was silent for a moment. You crumpled up the plastic bag and looked at him and the expression on his face was telling.

“What?”

He shook his head and leaned his hip into the counter, taking the plastic from your hand, “Is it…” he took a breath and searched your eyes, “Is the baby…?”

You shook your head, “No. It’s Joe’s. Don’t worry.”

A full-on, flat-out lie. You hadn’t planned on lying directly like that but how could you tell him the truth? You’d already dug your hole so deep, might as well keep going.

“You sure? I mean… I thought you said that you two hadn’t… like… we didn’t use protection, Y/n,” he lowered his voice.

Letting out a breath you nodded, “Don’t worry, Harry. Really. You’re not on the hook for this. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Does Joe know?” You were surprised that he appeared… disappointed.

“No. Hardly anyone knows,” you laughed, “Well, after today everyone’s gonna know I guess.”

Harry carried the tray of buns outside for you. You told him you could do it. That you were on bun duty because it was one thing Erin would allow you to help with. But he insisted. In fact the rest of the afternoon he was doing lots of small things for you. Once you were seated to eat he gathered up all the sauces and brought them to you, asking which you’d like and spooning them onto your plastic plate. He refilled your cup with water every time it got low, helped you stand up when you started to get out of your chair after eating, and then brought you a cupcake when you mentioned to Erin how good they looked.

But Harry was kind of always like that. He was the sort of friend that did nice things for all of his friends. Except there was something this time. Perhaps it was just your own perception of it based on the little secret you had, but his attention was not taken for granted. You appreciated his kindness.

And before he left he pulled you to the side and hugged you into his broad chest, “Let me know if you need anything. Okay?” He cupped your face in his hands to look at you.

You nodded, “Okay. Thank you, Harry.”

. . .

Harry learned you hadn’t gotten a paternity test when he talked to Erin about you. You had made it seem like you were sure it was Joe’s but how could you be so sure? The timing was suspicious to him, especially since you told him, the night you two had sex, that Joe hadn’t touched you in over a month. And that’s kind of what put everything into motion with Harry coming on to you. He felt like when you told him that, you were laying down some kind of hint. So that part he remembered clearly.

But he remembered everything quite clearly from that night. He might have been a bit tipsy but there wasn’t a moment he’d forgotten. Like how he orgasmed inside of you. And how after he’d come you both laid together with his cock still inside of you as he gently rocked in deeper, which he was now sure had only pushed his come further into you.

And that had been so dumb. Of both of you. You asked him to come inside of you and he did without question. That was where his horny/tipsy brain let him down. But what choice did he have except to believe you when you told him the baby wasn’t his?

He wouldn’t press the issue but he wasn’t going to ignore his suspicions either. He’d push them down and choose to believe you but not without being a bit more watchful.

. . .

Once all your friends knew you were pregnant word spread a little faster than you preferred. You just hoped that it wouldn’t get back to Joe because if it did you’d have to confess that you lied and then all hell would break loose. Or that’s how it felt anyway. Maybe that was a bit dramatic of you with whole hell-breaking-loose talk but you were allowed to be dramatic!

All your life you’d done things the normal way. Under the radar. Never causing so much as a peep when you didn’t like something just so you wouldn’t offend anyone. You put up with a lot of shit from other people who didn’t take your thoughts and feelings into account.

So now things were different. It was like being pregnant had changed you. Where you once were a quiet doormat, now you were a bit louder with demands.

“Jesus. What’s gotten into you?” Erin laughed when you plopped down onto your couch after you just told her you had no desire for a baby shower and to drop it.

You put your hands on your belly, “This. I think being pregnant has like changed my brain chemistry or something. I have no patience for bullshit anymore. And a baby shower? Really, Erin? That sounds awful.”

Erin sat down next to you and put her hand on your bump, “I like the new you. And I can’t wait to meet this little one who’s giving you this new attitude.”

You laughed, “Yeah. Me too. The closer it gets the more scared I am but also really excited in a way.”

“You realize I’m throwing you a baby shower whether you say yes or not. I love your new gives-no-shits approach lately but come on, Y/n. You need things and if Joe isn’t going to pitch in then you need help from all your friends.”

You knew she wasn’t going to give up on the baby shower idea. You felt like a fraud, though. Gifts and a whole afternoon spent in your honor because you went and had sex without a condom?

“I know you’re gonna do it anyway. All I ask is that you don’t make some big announcement. I don’t want Joe to know about it or anything.”

Erin sighed, “Why don’t you tell him, Y/n? He could help you with everything too. And I know you two broke up but it’s something to think about ya know? Like he could pay child support and you’d have the father listed on the birth certificate and it’s good for like, health stuff too. Like anything that could be hereditary from Joe?”

Pursing your lips you looked toward the window. You’d already decided on telling Harry at some point. You’d gotten past the whole single mom, doing it on her own BS when the doctor told you the same thing. How important it could be to know the baby’s father’s medical history. You just hadn’t figured out when to tell him yet. Timing would be important but the shame of having lied all along was really what was keeping you from telling him.

“You’re right. The doctor told me the same thing. But, it’s not that easy…” your pulse increased as you looked at Erin. You didn’t know why but you felt the need to tell her everything. To come right out and just tell her. She was your best friend after all. You could trust her not to say anything.

“I know it’s not easy but come on… he’s gonna figure it out at some point. He was just at Seth’s house the other night when I went to pick up Marcy. Seth’s cousin knows you’re pregnant and so do half of his friends and if Seth finds out you know Joe will find out.”

Sighing you leaned your head back into the couch cushion behind you, “It’s not Joe’s.”

Erin was silent for a moment and then you felt the couch shift as she angled herself to face you, “Okay. And do you know who the father is?”

Nodding you turned your head to look at her, “Don’t say anything to anyone. But it’s… Harry.”

Her eyes nearly bulged from her head as she stood up and paced in front of the couch, “Harry Styles? Our Harry?” She stopped and looked at you, shock on her face.

“Yes. That Harry.”

She continued pacing, “How? When did… but…”

“It was just one night. Right after Joe broke up with me we went out and he came back home with me and then that was it. Got knocked up from just the once.”

“Holy shit… Okay… Okay…” Erin sat down and took your hand into hers, “Harry’s a really good man. I just know he’d be supportive and loving with the baby. I actually think Harry being the father is way better. This is actually,” she puffed out a laugh, “This good news! Oh my god, this is… and I think you two would make the best couple. He’s always had a crush on you and–“

“Stop,” you put your hand up, “One thing at a time. Okay? I’m not thinking about any kind of romantic relationship right now. I’m just concerned with getting this thing out of me healthily and figuring out how to tell Harry in the first place.”

“So you’re gonna tell him. Okay… Listen… I’m not going to tell anyone. You already know that. But this, Y/n… this is good. Okay? Harry and you? You don’t need to be thinking about the future of your relationship with him right now but you’re set, girl. If Harry’s the dad? But you better figure out how to tell him soon. He’s been talking to some chick he works with. I don’t think it’s anything serious but still…”

Rolling your eyes you shook your head, “I’ll figure out when to tell him. It’ll be when I’m ready. And if he starts seeing this other chick then good for him. He deserves happiness.”

Erin scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Yeah sure.”

. . .

You didn’t realize how much it would affect you seeing Harry with someone else. The girl was cute. She was nice and her perfume smelled pleasant (which was good because you were very sensitive to smell as of late and most scents made you want to puke).

Harry had stopped by at Erin’s to drop off a few things he picked up for your upcoming baby shower while you were there and the girl was with him because they were on their way to a movie. A date.

The introduction was nice enough but you didn’t like it all. You hadn’t expected to feel the way you were. And it was your fault in a way. Maybe things would be different if you’d just told Harry already.

“How’s our baby, doing?” Harry put his palm on your stomach and you could have burst into tears. The “our” baby was innocent. Your tight-knit friend group all called the baby our baby, but somehow in that moment it just hit different.

Swallowing down your emotions you put on a smile, “It’s good! Super healthy. Just another month and a half and I’ll get to meet the baby. It’s gonna be big, though. Doctor says it might be close to 9 lbs.”

Harry blinked and slid his palm down the thin material of your flowy maternity shirt over the bump and looked at you as if he was trying to speak paragraphs to you in a glance, “Wow. That’s… big. And how’s the mommy? Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded and looked from the girl who was standing next to Harry looking at your massive tummy and then back up to Harry, “Feeling tired. And this thing is huge and heavy. But we’re healthy, so…” you shrugged and Harry removed his hand from your tummy but he kept his eyes on yours.

“I’m glad you’re healthy. That’s the most important thing. Oh, and here,” he walked toward the table where he placed the shopping bags and pulled out a box of your favorite pistachio and vanilla cookies from the bakery you loved. “Made an extra stop to pick these up for you.”

Erin and Harry’s girlfriend or whatever she was stood and watched as your eyes teared up and Harry handed you the small container. He had been nothing but sweet and helpful to you during your pregnancy and all the regret you already had about not telling him came pouring out of your eyes in that moment. It was ridiculous.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You still like these yeah?”

You nodded as Harry pulled you into his arms, though the big bump in your tummy made it hard to have a proper hug, “I’m fine. Just emotional some days. Thank you, Harry. This is so so kind of you.”

You hated that this chick Harry was with had seen that. Hated that you were so sensitive and that Harry was with someone else. Hated that you looked like a bloated beluga and that your thighs were aching for no fucking reason. You hated that despite the gross feeling in your gut you wanted to devour the cookies like a starved madwoman.

“You want me to stay? Want to talk?” His deep voice in your ear as he rubbed your back was calming. And if you were a sliver more selfish than you already were you’d say yes and have him stay with you and skip the date entirely and you’d revel in watching the disappointment on his date’s face when he told her he was choosing you over her. Even though she was nice, that would have still felt really good.

But you wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t interrupt Harry’s plans that way. Looking up at him you shook your head, “No. That’s okay.”

The look on his face slowly transitioned from strangely hopeful and soulful to something like defeat. Disheartened. You pulled at his hand and smiled before mouthing thank you.

When Harry and the girl left Erin sighed, “I don’t mean to be nosy or push you or make you feel like you’re doing something wrong but I really think you should tell him and do it soon. Did you see the way he was looking at you? Y/n… I know you saw that. He’d drop everything for you. He’d break up with that girl and I guarantee the moment you tell him it’s his he’d do anything. That man is smitten with you.”

You shook your head and took a bite of a cookie, “No he’s not. Look at me? I’m a mess. Everything is puffy, I can hardly move… look at this!” You lifted your hand up to show her your swollen fingers.

Erin laughed and pushed her fingers through yours, “Beautiful. You’re gorgeous. Glowing. An entire life is being grown right here,” she put her hand over your tummy, “And Harry Styles is in love with you all while thinking this baby is someone else’s. Mark my words, Y/n. The moment you tell him is the moment you’re gonna learn how far gone he is for you and how he’d do anything to make you happy.”

You laughed and shook your head but you did wonder. Because Harry had been a certain way with you since the day he learned you were pregnant. His doting and his gentleness were not something you could ignore.

. . .

The morning of the baby shower had been good. Your mother took you to get breakfast and you both walked together along the path near the lake for some exercise and fresh air. The only two people in the world who knew about Harry being the father were your mother and Erin. Your mother had met Harry before and she was quite fond of him. Everyone was fond of Harry, though.

“I just don’t understand why you haven’t told him, Y/n.”

“Well, it’s because I lied about it, Mom. I wasn’t thinking clearly at the beginning of the pregnancy. I don’t know if it was hormones or scrambled brains or what… Now I’m sort of regretting it but I’ll figure it out. He’ll know soon. I just need to figure out how to break it to him.”

“How to break it to him? Well, maybe something like… Hey, you. You knocked me up. This baby is actually yours and not Joe’s. Sorry for the inconvenience but that’s the deal.” Your mom laughed, mimicking your voice.

You laughed and shook your head, “Yeah it’ll probably be something like that. I just hate that I lied about it. Because I’m not a liar. I thought I was doing it to protect myself… I don’t even really know what I was thinking but I will tell him. Soon.”

When you arrived at your apartment most everyone was already there. Including Harry. The place was filled with little decorations and baby things. A table overflowing with presents and some sat on the floor next to the table. Another spot where there was food.

You didn’t know what the sex was going to be and didn’t want to know until the moment it was born so the decorations were neutral colors with a few splashes of blue and pink here and there. It was cute.

“There you are…” Harry swooped in and took the tray of goodies your mom was holding and he kissed her cheek, “Nice to see you! How have you been?”

You and your mother followed him to the kitchen, your mother giving you a knowing glance before she responded, “Just great. Everything is pretty much the same as it was since I last saw you, except now my baby is pregnant.”

Harry chuckled and once the tray was placed on the counter he draped his arm over your shoulder and hugged you, “And how are you?”

He always asked how you were. Always offered to help. Often would buy you random things he thought might make your pregnancy easier. Creams, pads for your back, nausea bands, teas…

“I’m good. Closer and closer. How are you, Harry?”

Soft pink lips turned up as he kept his sparkling green eyes on you, “Good. Happier now that you’re here.”

You rolled your eyes at him and just as you were about to retort Erin popped into the kitchen, “The lady of the hour! Come! I have to show you something!”

The baby shower was relatively fun. But it was tiring. It lasted longer than you had anticipated and you tried not to complain. Opening every present was a bore. A full-on snooze fest. Most things were just practical stuff you’d need. Lotions and powders, things to make bath time easier and safer, diapers, bottles, cleaning things for said bottles, a special baby food blender, onesies, socks, bibs, blankets… But you didn’t complain because you didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

It was a sea of pastel yellow, green, creamy whites… The cake was good, though. And finally, when everyone started to leave you felt like you could breathe. Having a small apartment packed full of people felt like you were a zoo animal on display. But the remainder were welcome and you appreciated that some straggled behind to help clean up.

Your mother left once all the dishes were clean and put away and then it was just you, Erin, your roommate, Harry, and two others who were helping put things away so you didn’t have to lift a finger.

You were sitting on the couch with your legs propped up on a pillow when Harry sat down by your feet and pulled them into his lap.

“Hey!” You laughed and started to pull away from him but the moment his thumb mushed into the tender part of your sole you gave in and relaxed your limbs.

“That was easy. Thought you’d gripe a bit more. Feels good yeah?”

You nodded, “It does feel good, actually. My feet are so swollen, though. Sorry.”

Harry continued kneading at your feet, rubbing sore spots and you were working to hold back your moans, “Stop it. Your feet look fine. This is normal anyway isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah but still. Even my fingers are puffy,” you laughed.

Erin sat down on the chair near the TV and smirked at you, “Y/n doesn’t believe it when I tell her she’s glowing. She’s sexy as a pregnant woman isn’t she Har?”

You narrowed your gaze at Erin in warning.

Harry laughed, his eyes on yours, “I think she’s just as lovely as always. Pregnancy definitely suits her.”

Everyone else joined in the living room and you moved your feet from Harry with a quick thank you as you felt the baby kick. You put your hand on your tummy and gasped, “It’s kicking!”

“Can I touch?” Your roommate asked as she moved from her spot to make her way to you.

“Yeah. Go ahead,” you smiled and showed her where to put her hand. But there was no movement. You poked at the spot and groaned, “Ahhh… a tease, this one.”

Erin walked over and put her hand on your tummy. Nothing. The baby didn’t budge. It often did this. Whenever you’d feel it move it stopped moving for anyone else. Not even your own mother had the chance to feel the baby kick in your belly.

Your two other friends also tested their luck, “It’s always like this. I’m the only one who’s ever gotten to feel it kick. I don’t know what it is.”

“You try,” Erin looked at Harry as she backed away to sit.

Harry licked his lips, “I mean… only if it’s okay. I don’t want to–“

“It’s fine. If you want to it’s okay. Really. Probably won’t move but ya know. Why not?” You laughed.

Harry scooted himself across the couch to sit right next to you as he placed his hand over your tummy where you pointed.

“Hey there, little one. Uncle Harry is here saying hello,” you watched Harry as he spoke in a soft tone. His deep voice had your skin prickling and your heart rate increasing. No one else really spoke to the baby and somehow seeing Harry do it drew the smallest bit of emotion up in your chest as he looked into your eyes and slid his thumb next to yours.

But then it kicked. The baby kicked and kicked again. Harry laughed and placed his other palm over your tummy so he was holding you with both hands and the little sucker was doing acrobatics all of a sudden.

“It’s never done that…” you spoke as you laid your palm over the space, “For anyone but me.”

“It’s kicking for me,” he grinned and his eyes softened as he cooed in a hushed voice looking down at his hands, “Hey baby. We can’t wait to meet you.”

“Maybe it’s your voice,” you whispered and Harry looked like he was in awe. Eyes twinkling with emotion.

“I feel so special.”

“Can I try again?” Erin stood over you two. Harry moved his hands away and the moment her palm took over the place Harry’s was the baby stopped moving again.

You laughed and felt around, jabbing gently into your tummy, “I don’t know why it’s doing this. Come on little human. Kick for Erin…”

You caught Harry’s gaze on yours. He had a small smile on his mouth and his cheeks were flushed.

Erin shook her head, “Ahh it’s okay. Now’s not my time.”

“We should probably get going.” The pair who arrived together both stood and said their goodbyes. Harry got up and went into the kitchen as you walked your friends to the door and thanked them for their help.

“Go talk to him,” Erin whispered in your ear.

“What?” You scrunched your face in confusion.

“Harry. Go talk to him. He’s in the kitchen and I think he’s upset or something.”

“Why would he be upset?”

Erin raised her brows at you and looked toward the kitchen and mouthed, “Just go.”

Sighing you waddled toward the kitchen and noticed Harry had his palms flat on the countertop as he looked downward at the platter of cupcakes silently.

“Hey…” you gently put your hand on his tricep, “Are you okay?”

He looked down at you and nodded, “I’m fine. Just… needed a minute. Felt like it was nonstop today ya know?” He pushed himself from the counter and let out a forced laugh.

“Okay. You seemed upset just then. Wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.”

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it before he shook his head, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Oh!” You reached for his hand and pulled over your tummy again.

The kicking was nonstop as long as Harry’s hand was on your tummy, “Hi there. You wanted to say hello again, didn’t you? I am flattered you seem to like me so much. I’m your favorite, aren’t I? Your secret’s safe with me little one,” he bent closer to your tummy to speak to the baby.

If he didn’t give you butterflies before, well that whole exchange certainly did. You were aware your hormones were going bonkers too. Just seeing Harry had put you into overdrive, though no one would ever know it. Who knew pregnant women got so horny? Your doctor told you it could happen but looking at his big hands on your bump, the soft smile on his face, the look of something that could easily be mistaken for fondness in his eyes had your head spinning.

You laughed when Harry looked up at you and stood back to his full height, “What? Baby likes me more than the others. Pretty sure we’re gonna be best buds.”

A small breath fell from your lips at the thought. At Harry thinking it.

“I sure hope so. Just a little over a month. Doctor says could be sooner due to the size.”

“Yeah. You said on track to be a big baby,” he smiled and looked down at his hand on your bump and then back at you, “Will you…” he cleared his throat, “Please let me know if there’s anything you need or want. I can, you know, help. And… if you go into labor I’d like to know. I’m sure you already have a plan with your mother and Erin but…” he trailed off his words as you put your hand over his.

“I’ll let you know if there’s anything. You’ve already been so helpful, Harry. I’m beyond grateful for you. And when I go into labor I’ll make sure someone calls you.”

He nodded, “Thank you.”

There was something about that moment. How tender and vulnerable it was. Your eyes locked and his hand on your tummy with the baby kicking inside. His baby. And it felt like he knew it too. Like he could see through your bullshit and he was just waiting for you to tell him the truth. Praying you’d spit it out once and for all.

And that had stuck with you. The moment the baby had kicked for him was like a signal for you. Some kind of omen or something (not that you believed in those kinds of things). It was time to tell him.

“You wanna come over tomorrow and help me set up the crib?”

. . .

You slept like shit. Which wasn’t too outside of the norm since Harry’d gotten you knocked up. His massive baby was pushing on all your organs and made it hard to get comfortable in bed at night. And just when you’d start to doze off you’d need to pee or there was a sharp pain or your leg would cramp up.

In short, by the time Harry arrived the following day to help you set up the crib, you were in a terrible mood. You were still going to tell him the truth but you were unsure of how it would all go down now that your mood was spoiled. Where you’d been so hopeful before, now you were doubtful. What if he was repulsed?

You had wanted time alone with him. Your roommate was out so it would be perfect. It felt like it would be better to tell him when no one else was around.

He brought croissants and jam and your favorite cookies. The moment you saw him with the bakery box in hand and a warm smile on his pink lips your bad mood was suddenly lifted slightly. Just the sight of him was a breath of fresh air.

When he sat the box down he pulled you in for a hug and kissed your forehead, “How are you feeling today?”

You rolled your eyes because he was too perfect. Too sweet.

“I’m… well, I’m tired. Didn’t sleep much. This thing makes it hard to get comfortable and my back aches. But… we’ll survive.” You laughed it off.

Harry’s brows pinched together, “Okay. Let’s get you off your feet then. Here,” he pulled you into your bedroom where the unopened crib box was sitting. He gestured for you to sit down on your bed, “Sit.” He helped you scoot into the headboard and stuffed a pillow behind your back before he turned, “Let me grab the box in the kitchen.”

You watched him quickly exit your room and looked around yourself. He had no idea what kind of bomb you were about to drop on him. Your nerves were all over the place. You were sure that was part of why you didn’t sleep well the night before. You couldn’t put all the blame on Harry’s baby.

When he returned to the room with the pastry box and two plates, “Cookie first? Or croissant with jam?”

“Mmm…” you looked into the box, “… cookie I think first.”

“Cookie for mama… here you go,” he handed you a plate with a cookie and you huffed a laugh. God, just hearing him say that had your toes tingling.

Harry began to remove the parts from the box and handed you the instructions to read over, “Okay. Read to me what I need to do first.” He took a bite of a croissant.

“Attach small end panels A to posts D with lock washers and connector bolts. Here,” you turned it so he could see the figure in the picture with the parts and he began to put sections together as you read off the instructions.

You wound up getting up to help him even though he told you to stay put. You insisted anyway and handed him the small tools as you read the directions.

“This is so much more work than I thought it’d be,” he laughed as he tilted the nearly put-together crib upright.

You covered your mouth and looked at its frame. It was almost as if none of what was happening was real until you saw the crib there, at the foot of your bed with Harry’s hand on one of the corner posts.

He reached out to rub your arm, “You okay?”

Once again, your emotions and hormones were wrecking you. You sat down and Harry sat next to you.

Sniffing you nodded and laughed, “I’m okay. I just can’t believe there’s a crib in my room for a baby who’s going to be here sooner than I’m ready for.”

“I know it’s wild. I never really imagined what it’d be like to put a crib together before.”

You smiled sheepishly and looked down at your tummy. You wondered if the correlation between Harry being near you and making your heart race had something to do with the baby always kicking only for him. Especially when you looked into his eyes and he was looking at you like that.

“So, uh…” you laughed, “You still seeing that one girl from work?”

Harry cocked his head and looked at you with an amused smile, “Maybe. Why? You never once asked about girls I’m dating before.”

“Oh… I was just curious. You don’t have to answer or anything,” you frowned and moved to stand but your movement lacked grace and you only fell back into the bed and Harry put his hand on your back.

“I was teasing. You can ask me anything, Y/n. But it’s just casual. Haven’t been out with her in a couple weeks. Might not see her again outside of work.”

“Why not? She seemed really nice,” you were thrilled by the news but tried not to let just how thrilled you were show.

Harry laughed through his nose as he kept his eyes on yours, “Just cause. Kind of felt like I was leading her on a little. Never really was that into her.”

You nodded and pursed your lips to act casual but Harry’s hand was still on your back and your roommate was coming home soon and you needed to tell him. It felt like your room was closing in around you. It was time.

You inhaled deeply and swallowed, “Um… I need to tell you something. It’s kind of big and…” another deep breath and the feel of Harry’s hand soothingly rubbing your back that felt like he already knew what you were going to say as if he were coaxing it out of you gently. “Uh…”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

You smiled at him before closing your eyes and blurting out the words, “Joe’s not the father.”

Harry’s soft caresses slowed down as he pushed his hand upward to your shoulder, “I kind of had a feeling it wasn’t his.”

Popping your eyes open you looked at Harry, “You… didn’t think it was Joe’s?”

Harry shook his head, “Felt like you weren’t telling me everything. Are you gonna tell me who the father is then?” He raised his brows. He knew. He already knew. But he needed you to say it. To tell him. You could see it in his expression that he knew.

“Well, that kind of just leaves one person, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. You tell me, Y/n.” He wasn’t going to make this easy but of course you deserved that.

Pushing out a breath you nodded and put your hand on your tummy, “It’s… you.”

Harry nodded his head as he kept his eyes on yours. You swallowed thickly when he removed his hand from your shoulder and stood up before running his fingers into his hair and began to laugh.

You didn’t know what was going through his head but his reaction was… well it wasn’t what you imagined and now you were wondering if you should have just kept it all in. Never told him or anyone the truth. Because letting another full human being into the mix was daunting. Harry had his own life and hobbies and he was dating and he was in the process of looking for a house to buy and he’d recently talked about getting a dog…

You started to spiral in your thoughts, regretting that you told him at all. Feeling like you’d just made a grave error when you felt Harry’s arm slide behind your back, “Hey… come on. Don’t cry…”

It hadn’t even dawned on you that you were crying. You were too overwhelmed by the feeling of rejection and embarrassment to take note that tears were pouring out of your eyes.

“Sorry!” You squeaked and hid your face in your arm, turning away from him.

Harry pulled you in closer and smushed his lips to your temple, “Shh…”

You gasped to catch your breath and felt the warm singe of embarrassment still frothing over your skin. The tears weren’t helping anything because now you just looked like a lunatic. Unable to form words or look him in the eyes. You’d even put on mascara before he came over so you’d look cuter when you told him he was the baby daddy.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he spoke against your hair and ran his hand up and down your arm gently.

You laughed and buried your face into his clavicle.

“Can I tell you something, Y/n?”

You nodded, and a muffled okay came from your mouth as you kept your face tucked away.

“Can you look at me first?”

“Harry my face is gross. You don’t want to see this…”

“Nothing about you is gross. You’re breathtaking. Please look at me.”

Another puffed laugh fell from your mouth. Breathtaking. That was a bit of an exaggeration.

You slowly pulled your face away from his chest and tilted your head up to look at him. The grin on his face stretched upward and he ran his thumbs under your eyes, “Look at you. Nothing gross here. Bit of makeup down the face. You don’t need this stuff anyway,” he wiped the smudged mascara and you brought a hand up to wipe with him.

“Sorry… I should know better than to put mascara on these days. Everything makes me cry,” you ran your fingers under the delicate skin of your eyes as Harry continued wiping at your cheeks.

“It’s an emotional thing. All this. Good to get a cry in here and there.”

You laughed and sniffled. Harry didn’t let his pupils stray from yours.

“So, listen…” he inhaled, “I want to be with you. I have wanted that. When I learned you and Joe broke up I thought that was my chance. But then we slept together and I thought you regretted it. You kind of acted funny around me for a bit after that so I backed off. But really, I wanted to scoop you up and make you mine. Figured maybe you just needed time to get over Joe.”

You were stunned. You blinked your eyes and shook your head, “You… I thought…” A breath fell from your lips.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me like that. But I do want to be part of this,” he placed his hand on your pregnant belly, “This is ours. I want to help. I want to do everything I can to be there for you.”

“You want to be with me? Like…” You blinked in disbelief.

“Yes. Like I’m in love with you.”

He’d just blurted it out so casually. As if you weren’t in a delicate state and that sentence couldn’t send you to your grave. As if those words wouldn’t have your head spinning and your heart raging behind your ribcage. As if him loving you was the most obvious thing.

“Wha– you… I’m surprised. I… love?”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I should have waited for that one. But you did just tell me I’m the dad so… call it even,” he laughed.

“You’re laughing? Harry… this is…” you started to tear up again as you pushed at his chest. He’d waited all this time to admit he was in love with you and somehow it just seemed unfair, “You should have told me. This would have all been so different.”

“And you should have told me, Y/n. I could have been here with you. Could have driven you to every appointment and we could like… talk about everything and… be together. If you even want that.”

He was right of course. If you’d just told him sooner maybe everything would have fallen into place. Maybe it would’ve been easier.

“Well, what do you think?”

“You’re right. I should have told you much sooner. So this is my fault. I’m… I just didn’t expect you to tell me you love me.”

Harry folded his big palm over your hand and pulled your fingers between his, “I tried doing everything I could to make it obvious to you. I’m still wondering what you think about it, though.”

“It’s... I really like you. I haven’t thought about it too deeply, though. I didn’t want to focus on you too much because you were dating that girl and–“

“Forget about her. Took her to one movie. Went out to lunch twice. Not so much as a peck on the cheek. Would’ve flaked on our date had you told me to stay that one day. Remember that?”

You nodded and smiled, “Yeah. I do.”

“So tell me what you think. Just be honest. I can handle it. I’m a big boy, Y/n.”

You forced air through your nose, “Okay. I like you. I think it would be nice to be in a relationship with you and do this together. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s in the past. So, you wanna be with me?”

You nodded. It all didn’t feel real. Harry was this gorgeous man, the whole package with his shit together while you were a swollen, hormonal, puffy-faced girl who had no idea what she was doing.

“Good. Now, I promise I’ll finish the crib but can I kiss you? Want to kiss you so bad.”

You sputtered out a laughed yes and rolled your eyes but Harry slid his hand to the back of your head and cut off your exasperated laugh with his mouth over yours. And all the apprehension and uncertainty, the disbelief and the worry melted away as his lips smushed against yours.

And as it was, you were already halfway there – to horny. Lately, that’s just how you were; Always at the tip of horny and tired. But when his tongue slipped into the seam of your lips your response was to push your tongue against his and place your fingers through his hair, nudging yourself closer.

You didn’t stop there, though. Your other hand found his thigh and you flexed your fingers over the dense muscle. The memory of the night you slept together came rushing back. His body was solid and broad and no matter where you touched him it lit your fingertips like flint.

He placed his hand over yours and pulled your fingers upward, “Y/n…” he breathed your name as if he needed to hear it spoken out loud again. It was desperate. Starved. The man was starved. You wondered if the last time he had sex was with you. Selfishly you hoped it was. And selfishly you hoped he’d want to fuck you again.

You felt his hand on your jaw and then his thumb press into your cheekbone, “I missed this mouth, Y/n. I need you…”

He drew his mouth down to your neck and you felt him tongue at your pulse point. A shattered moan escaped your throat when he collared one side of your neck with his big palm and continued brushing his lips on the other.

“I need you too, Harry…” The sentence drizzled into the air like a steamy mist. And then his hand was on your breasts. Your very tender and achy breasts, “Oh god!”

Harry parted from your neck, “Are you okay?”

“I’m… god I’m just…” you didn’t want to say it but you needed it. Needed him. Craved him, “Really, really turned on. It’s been like this for a bit. It’s my hormones.”

Harry pushed a laugh through his nostrils, his heavy gaze dropped to your blouse-covered breasts and then back to your eyes, “Hormones? Is there anything I can do to help with that problem?”

His question was cheeky. The edge of his lips flitted upward teasingly and you laughed, “Yeah. I think you can help.”

Harry licked his lips and pressed his nose against yours, “Tell me what I can do. What do you need?”

His breath was humid against your mouth as you reached for him with puckered lips, an attempt to just get back to it but he backed away from you, dimples carving into his cheeks, “Ah ah ah… I asked you what you needed, Y/n. What’s gonna make you feel good?” His fingers trailed down over the fabric on your blouse.

“I want to have sex. You’re the only man who’s ever made me come and I can’t stop thinking about that night.”

“Really? No one else has ever made you come before?”

You shook your head, “No one else.”

A sudden visage of something like pride and plume took over his face, “And you want that again, do you? Want me to make you come, Y/n?”

“Yes.”

Harry’s hands were gentle as he pulled you back into his arms and smeared his mouth over yours until you found yourself lying on your side facing Harry with his hands on your round belly, “This is mine? I did this to you?”

“Yep. Got me knocked up on the first try,” you splayed your hands over his as he brought them down to the stretchy hem of your blouse and bunched at the material to move it out of his way and expose your tummy.

“It’s not cute. I’m sorry,” you watched as your shirt was lifted and Harry was confronted with the sight of skin stretched tight over your belly.

Dragging his fingers over your bump and to your tits he shushed you, “So cute. The cutest. That’s my baby in there. And you’re so sexy like this.”

He sat up to his knees and helped you out of your top, revealing the thick strapped greige maternity bra that fully covered every inch of your breasts. With his eyes on yours, he reached around to your back to unhook the tiny metal clasps until your straps shimmied free.

His lips parted as he peeled the fabric away from your engorged tits, “Oh fuck, baby…” He pawed at them and softly kneaded in his palms over the flesh, “Feels okay? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Yes. It feels so good with your hands on me.”

He moaned as his pupils roved every inch of your skin, dipping down to pull his tongue over and around your nipples only stopping to softly suck before his plush lips feathered kisses down your torso and the sides of your belly.

His fingers slid into the waistband of your pants, “Taking these off, all right?” He peered up at you.

Your chest was already heaving as if you were in the middle of being fucked and you nodded, “Okay.”

The nice thing about maternity wear was that it was easy to remove. Harry got you out of your cotton and lycra pants before you had time to feel shy about letting him see the kind of mess you’d made of your panties. Also greige like your bra.

“And clearly we need to get you out of these things too, Y/n,” he tutted as he cupped the meatiest part of your hips with his palms, “Don’t we?”

You giggled and nodded, “I know it’s a mess. I just can’t help it. The doctor said it’s normal to be like this.”

“Poor thing,” he looked down at the wet stain at the front of your panties, “Could’ve been taking such good care of you all this time.”

You felt your panties slip down your hips before cool air hit your wet pussy and you closed your eyes, “Sorry. Haven’t shaved down there or anything since… well…”

Harry’s graveled moan was accompanied by the feel of his hands on the insides of your knees as he pushed you open, “It’s beautiful.”

You opened your eyes to look down at him between your legs and his dark pupils were already on yours, “Really?”

“Really. Everything about you is so…” he smoothed his palms up the insides of your thighs from your knees and then paused, “I forgot. It’s not good for you to be on your back too long. Isn’t that right?”

You laughed and pushed yourself up by your elbows, “Yeah. That’s true. Did you read that somewhere?”

He nodded, “Not ashamed to admit I did in fact read that somewhere. So, would you like me to eat you out? And if so,” he teased his fingertips into your thighs, “What’s most comfortable for you?”

“I mean, yeah I’d like that but… truly unnecessary given the state I’m in.”

“The state you’re in? You mean pregnant?”

You chuckled, “I mean given how horny I am. I’m just saying you don’t need to prep me or anything.”

“Oh, I can see you need no prepping. It’s not so much about that as it is just making you feel good. Get comfy. I’m gonna lick your pussy.”

Another laugh fell from your chest when you heard the front door to your apartment close. Esie was home.

Harry clambered off the bed and shut your door in haste, “Fuck. I didn’t know she was coming back so soon.”

You scooted yourself back into your pillows, “We’ll just keep it quiet. But I do have one request.”

He raised a brow at you as he returned to your bed placing one knee on the pillowtop mattress with his palms down as he awaited your request.

“Can you take your shirt and pants off? I feel really… on display like this while you’re fully dressed.”

Harry grinned and pushed himself back to plant both feet onto the floor as he pulled his shirt off and then worked at his jeans, bringing them down his legs. You didn’t care that Esie was home. You needed to be fucked. You needed Harry. And the more skin and ink he revealed the more your mouth watered.

Just like 8 months before, he was an impressive sight. All tall and lean muscle (but kind of soft in some spots), inky drawings over long, well-thewed arms, and a broad torso with pecs you could bite into.

He climbed back into bed with you, quickly invading your space with the expanse of his body swathing over you like a mantle before he brought his hands to cradle your face and pressed his lips against yours.

He lowered his palms and groped at your tits, a bit rougher this time, but it only elicited a lewd mewl from your throat. Sensitive as they might be, having Harry touch you at all could only be a good thing.

“You like that, do you?” Harry spoke against your lips with a jesting tone.

You responded with a squeaky bleat to the affirmative when you felt him put pressure on your nipple, smushing it just between his thumb and middle finger.

He licked up from your bottom lip and ran his tongue over yours when you felt his fingers reaching for your other nipple.

Two loud knocks on your door startled you both, “Hey I’m home! Just letting you know!”

“Okay, thanks, Esie!” You and Harry quietly laughed as he put his palms on your knees.

“Do you think she was just telling you she was home, or reminding you to keep it down in here because she could hear us?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I mean… I doubt she thinks I have a guy in my bed right now. Much less it being you.”

Harry’s grin softened and he resumed from where you left off before Esie interrupted, this time his lips started at your neck. You relaxed back into the pile of pillows as you watched Harry slowly move further away until he was mouthing at your hips and peering up at you.

But then you felt his finger. It was just one but you felt it tickle at your crease. He ran it lightly along the seam of your pussy up and down before finally dredging in, parting your labia, and slicking it through your pussylips, completely wetting his finger.

Harry kissed at your mons and the curve of where your belly began to extend upward before bringing his lips back down closer to your throbbing clit but not quite there.

When he circled his finger at your slick entrance you rocked your hips, needing to feel his finger pushing inside of you. He kissed your skin at the apex of your thigh with a smacking sound and then finally thrust in, reaching through your insides and then pulled back, hooking his finger upward so it bumped into your spongy g-spot.

But the moment you felt his warm mouth kiss your clit and then tongue all around the tender and needy nub you gasped and reached down to put a hand in his hair, “Yess…”

Harry was surprised by how turned on you were. Slippery and puffy and he’d hardly touched you. But he’d read about how some pregnant women can be very horny until the end of the pregnancy. Ever since the day he learned you were pregnant, even though you told him it wasn’t his, he still learned what he could. Everything from how the body changes and what you might be going through and feeling, to nutritional needs, as well as the best sex positions (he was just a man after all). He never knew most of the things he learned and he was glad for it now that he was getting to have you again.

He wished you’d have told him, though. Wished he could have been there for you emotionally and physically… whatever you needed he’d have done it. But god it would have been so sweet to have been able to call you his girlfriend and show you off to everyone then take you home and fuck your horny little pussy every night.

No need to dwell on the past, though. He was absolutely over the moon that you finally told him and that his suspicions were correct. He was ecstatic you wanted to be with him so he’d make the most of it.

And the small squeaks and pants you were making as he fingered and sucked your clit were all good sounds. Hot. You were hot. So fucking sexy. He really loved how needy you were too. As big as your tummy was, you were grinding your hips down over his finger and lifting into him.

He couldn’t see your face from his spot but your fingers in his hair and the quiver of your thigh told him all he needed to know.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, quiet as you could, “Ohhh… shitshitshit!”

Your pussy pulsed and squeezed at his finger as you began to come. You draped your free arm over your mouth to cover up the gasps and hitched breaths as much as you could.

He’d never in his life made anyone come so fast. He had hardly gotten himself warmed up but there you were, shaking and sighing as you orgasmed into his mouth and around his finger.

When you began to close your thighs around his head and roll to your side to escape his mouth he pulled his finger from your pussy and gripped onto your hips to keep you still so you didn’t fling yourself off the bed.

He sat up and looked you over, smoothing his hands over your arms and to your tummy, “That feel good?”

You laughed and nodded, “Umm. Yeah, I’d say that felt good.”

Harry leaned down and peppered kisses to your tummy and pushed you to your side before he tucked himself behind you and pulled your back to his chest where he began to smush wet kisses to your neck, “You came so fast. You’re so sensitive, Y/n.”

“Mmmm…” you closed your eyes and then felt the bulk of his cock pressing into your backside. He was still wearing his boxer briefs. You pushed your ass back against him and heard a lusty moan vibrating over your ear.

You wanted more, unsurprisingly. Every time you masturbated lately it was two or three orgasms per go, which had never been the case before you got pregnant.

Harry rutted into you, his cock solid and aching. He hadn’t had sex with anyone since you and now he was desperate to get his cock wet. Desperate for you. No one else did it for him after you.

“Getting my underwear all wet,” he breathed his words between kisses and rocks of his hips, “You need some more, Y/n?”

Harry’s hands were cradling your tummy and rubbing at your tits as he humped against you and you nodded into your pillows, “I need more. Want you inside of me.”

Music to his ears. “Yeah? Need so much from me, don’t you? Need my baby in your womb, and my cock deep inside at the same time?”

“Fuck… yes I do…”

Harry leveraged himself up by one arm and pulled his underwear down his legs as fast as he could manage. His cock was throbbing and weeping at the tip already. He hoped he didn’t disappoint this time around because he was certain he wasn’t going to last long.

You turned to watch him and reached down behind you to wrap your fingers around his cock as he settled back onto his side. You felt the dribble of precome at his slit and spread it down his cock slowly, “I just wanna make sure… I know we slept together without a condom once but, like… I don’t know if you were sleeping with anyone else or–“

“You’re the last person I slept with. But we can–“

You moaned, cutting off the rest of his statement where he was about to suggest a condom, “Oh good. Just fuck me then.”

Angling his thick cock to your entrance you raised your hip to guide him in and with an easy thrust forward he spread your pussy apart and drove into you languidly. You both moaned in relief. You kept yourself turned to look at him as he entered you until he was pasted against your ass.

When he reared back and pushed in you laid your head down on the pillow. Every inch of him getting stuffed into you was filthy and wet sounding.

Harry kept a slow pace as he buried himself in and pulled back before thrusting into your sloppy wet hole. His balls were already squeezing as he rocked into you, “Pussy feels so good, Y/n. Fuck baby…”

You slid your fingers over your clit and buried your face into the pillow as you moaned his name. He could hear your muffled noises and he leaned back so he could see as he split you apart on his cock.

Everything was wet between your legs as he watched himself slide in and out, his cock coated in your cream already. Sloppy thrust after sloppy wet thrust. He dragged his thumb over the space of your pussy where you were gripping around him as he rolled into you, feeling the way you stretched for him.

You felt the liquidy heat of your orgasm slowly seeping through your nerves and your organs with every slick plunge of his cock. He filled up the space of your pussy just right, every stroke of him through your aching core glided against all your secret little crevices, bumping your g-spot and slithering through to your guts.

You’d done well to keep quiet as quiet as you were. You’d gotten good at quietly coming over the years of having a roommate. But Harry was testing this skill of yours.

“Wrapped around my cock like you needed it, baby. Listen to how creamy you are,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth before continuing to whisper into your ear, “All for me. Gonna make you come as many times as you want. Buy you a house where we can raise our little family together. Fuck all my babies into you…”

Harry didn’t know exactly what he was saying. He was delirious; holding back his orgasm as he felt you trembling around him. He grunted as he continued, “Gonna keep you satisfied, take care of you and our baby. Protect you…”

His words weren’t all that filthy. Not as filthy as they could have been but somehow the talk of raising a family with him and protecting you pushed you off the precipice and over the edge. You bit your lip and your whole body trembled as you hastened your fingers on your clit.

“Shit… holy shit…” Harry breathed out when he felt you coming around him and practically convulsing in his arms. You moaned as quietly as you could but his hips were slapping into your ass as he fucked you through your release.

You’d never come so hard in your life. You were sure it was because you were having actual sex with a man you’d wanted for so long all while your hormones were going haywire. Your pussy pulsed and fluttered, clenching on Harry’s cock as he squeezed his eyes closed and choked out a gasp, gluing his hips to your bum, grinding in and began to pump his come into your cunt.

He thought he could wait until you were done but you kept coming and shaking, your pussy vibrating over him like a siphon trying to milk him. He couldn’t resist, “Fuck!”

His cock throbbed violently inside of your warm channel as he emptied every drop of himself into you, holding you close as he rutted inward, dredging his cock as deep into your pussy as it could go.

He felt your hand reach over his forearm and rub as he opened his eyes and caught his breath. You were sweaty and gorgeous lying on your side all fucked out with your eyes closed and a satisfied smile on your lips. He kissed your cheek and squeezed your bum in his palm.

“I love you, Harry.” You whispered.

You’d said it back, finally. Harry leaned over to see your face, “Say it again?”

Opening your eyes you sighed and turned your head to look up at him, “I love you.”

Harry tilted your chin toward him and kissed your lips softly, “I love you, Y/n.”

It would have been bliss to have just stayed like that in Harry’s arms, with his soft pink lips dragging over your skin all night. Perhaps another round even. But there was the matter of the unfinished crib and your roommate, Esie who was about to find out about you and Harry.

“Promised you I’d finish the crib before I left,” he pecked at your cheek and sat up.

“Why don’t you stay the night?”

“You sure? That means Esie’s gonna know.” He grinned.

“I’m positive. I think it’s about time everyone knows.”

He couldn’t have agreed more.

. . .

Watching Harry holding your baby was like something out of a dream. He was standing, cradling her little head with his big palm and kissing her soft peach fuzz forehead between whispered words you couldn’t hear.

When he finally turned to set his eyes on you the look on his face was unlike anything you’d ever seen from him before. It was awe and love and overwhelm and joy all wrapped up in his eyes.

“I love her so much. And I love you. I can’t even describe–“ he blinked the tears from his eyes as his lip quivered and you reached out toward them.

“Come here. Sit with me.” You beckoned.

Harry sat next to you on the hospital bed and situated the little one into the crook of his arm between you two. You reached up and ran your fingers into his curls, “I love you, Harry. I’m so happy. Both of you make me happier than I’ve ever been. I’m glad we ended up together.”

Harry leaned in, carefully so as not to smush the precious life in his arms, and gave you a chaste kiss, “Me too, Y/n. I can’t believe how perfect she is. How amazing you are. I’m just blown away right now.”

You breathed out a laugh as you both stared down at the life you two had created. A beautiful sleeping bundle and she was all yours. All his. When her little lips stressed open and she let out the tiniest crackle of a yawn your heart felt like it was going to rupture from being so full of love.

“She’s beautiful, Harry. Look at her.”

“I know. I can’t take my eyes off her.”

You were exhausted but flying. Every kind of happy chemical; oxytocin, dopamine, serotonin, and endorphins were all flowing through your veins unencumbered. The labor was a difficult one, though. Harry’s baby was big. She came out at just under 9 lbs and you learned that Harry was a big baby as well. You cursed him a few times but after everything was said and done you couldn’t have been happier.

You fluttered your gaze from the man holding your child to the sweet little thing in his arms over and over. Your little family, all whole and healthy and happy.

“You should get something to eat, Harry. You haven’t eaten.”

He looked at you, those starry green eyes that could melt you right into your bed, “You just want to be alone with her don’t you?”

Shaking your head you laughed, “I mean that’s really not the motivation. I was just thinking about how we’re all healthy and it’s the most wonderful thing. But you haven’t eaten. I haven’t seen you eat anything since before I went into labor. It’s been like a whole day, more than a whole day, Harry. And while I scarfed down my jello and the little protein drink you were holding her and you haven’t left my side so you have to be hungry.”

“I am a little. I don’t want to leave, though. I feel like I have to be here in case anything happens…”

Cupping his cheek you shook your head, “Nothing will happen to us. The cafeteria is still open. You can get something and bring it up here. My mom won’t be back for another hour or so. Just grab a snack even. I need you healthy.”

Harry leaned into your palm and closed his eyes, “Okay.”

He placed your daughter into your arms and kissed your forehead as he gently caressed her cheek, “I’ve got the two most beautiful girls in the world. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“I think you’re just as emotional as I am right now,” you laughed. “Now. Let me have a minute alone with my daughter while you grab a quick snack.”

“Okay, Mom. You’re the boss.”

You took his hand, “Hurry back, Dad.”

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Double The Cravings*

a/n: this was a request by @cicicavill7 (sorry i didn't post the entire ask it was too long 😭😭😭😭😭)

Summary: you're very pregnant, and harry has to go to a fundraiser. you don't feel like eating because of your growing body, feeling insecure but harry's always there to take care of his pretty pregnant girl.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: smut, fluff. mentions of pregnancy, insecurities. p in v sex, sex while pregnant, creampie, aftercare, kissing.

*

"You look absolutely stunning, darling." 

Harry's warm breath tickled the shell of your ear as his arms wound around your waist from behind. His large hands came to rest reverently on the swell of your pregnant belly, cradling the twins you were carrying. 

You bit your lip, smoothing the silky fabric of your dress down self-consciously. While you didn't doubt Harry's sincerity, it was getting harder to feel confident about your changing body lately. Your cravings had been intense and unrelenting, and you felt like you were gaining more weight than a typical pregnancy.

"You really think so?" you asked, unable to mask the uncertainty in your tone as you examined your reflection again. "I feel like this dress is getting a bit snug..."

Harry's brow furrowed, and he turned you to face him, tilting your chin up with one finger. "Of course I think so. Have you looked at yourself? You're glowing, Y/N. Absolutely radiant carrying our babies."  

He leaned in and nuzzled his nose against yours affectionately. "I've never seen anything more beautiful than you right now, my pregnant little wife."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, ducking your head bashfully. It was getting more difficult to accept the compliments the further along you got. Your hormones were all over the place and you felt big and awkward rather than the radiant fertility goddess Harry seemed to see.

Sensing your reticence, Harry cupped your face in his large hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "I'm serious. You're so bloody gorgeous, Y/N, especially with this new lush, curvy figure of yours." His eyes burned with sincerity and...something darker as they raked over your body. "Gonna let me show you later just how much I appreciate these new assets?"

Despite your fluttering nerves, you felt desire curl low in your belly at the rumbling promise in his gravelly tone. Harry always had a way of making you feel utterly desirable and worshipped.

"If you insist," you murmured demurely, though you knew he could see the want simmering behind your eyes.

Harry groaned, ducking to capture your lips in a searing kiss. "Cheeky girl. You know I do." He punctuated his words with nibbling bites along your jaw. "Going to cherish every new inch of you, angel."

A fluttering in your stomach prevented you from getting too carried away. You placed a hand over Harry's where they still cradled your bump.

"Alright, alright, down boy," you giggled breathlessly. "We've got somewhere to be, remember? And these two are getting impatient."

Chuckling, Harry pressed one more smoldering kiss to the corner of your mouth before releasing you. "Fair point. Shall we, my pregnant goddess?"

With a wink, he offered his arm which you took with an eye roll and a fond smile. Despite your persisting insecurities, you felt reassured by his doting attention as you exited your bedroom.  

This fancy fundraiser gala had been on your schedule for months, a can't-miss event Harry had been looking forward to all year. You'd been nervous about going, worried people would judge your ever-expanding figure. But Harry had been adamant that you were going to shine like the stunning, fertile vision you were. Now you were just hoping you could make it through without any embarrassing incidents.

Your breath caught as soon as you stepped into the opulent ballroom of the posh venue, immediately feeling underdressed and frumpy next to the glamour of the high society crowd milling about. 

Harry, always in tune with your wavering confidence, leaned over to murmur in your ear. "Try to relax, love. You're the most beautiful woman in the room, and not a single person here holds a candle to you carrying my children."

You flushed at his ardent assurance, trying to calm your nerves as he led you toward the refreshments. Of course, not five minutes after arriving, the doubts began creeping back in. 

All of the hors d'oeuvres being offered were deliciously unhealthy, aromas of rich foods and sharp spices assaulting your sensitive, pregnant senses. Your mouth watered just looking at the arrays of canapes, bruschetta, sliders, and mini quiches laid out enticingly. 

But your hormonal self-consciousness quickly took over. You worried about stuffing your face and exploding right out of this tight dress, about people watching you pile food onto your plate and whispering behind your back. About looking sloppy and out of control.

So despite the intense cravings rumbling in your stomach, you shyly waved off the passing servers offering treats and settled for sipping some water and nibbling on a few breadsticks. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Harry frowning in concern, his brows drawing together as he watched you avoid most of the appetizers. But he didn't comment, simply squeezing your hand reassuringly and turning to engage in conversation with some donors.

As the evening wore on, your stomach was grumbling so loudly you feared passersby could hear it over the music and mingling voices. Your cravings were getting worse by the minute as you tried desperately to ignore mouthwatering aromas wafting all around. You pressed one palm against your belly, rubbing soothing circles as the babies kicked in protest.

"I know, I know," you whispered, feeling guilty already. You didn't want to deprive your little ones of anything, but the thought of stuffing yourself in front of all these judgemental rich folk had you paralyzed.  

You jumped slightly at the feeling of a large hand settling over yours on your bump.

"Everything okay?" Harry ducked his head close, green eyes full of concern as he searched your face. "You've hardly eaten anything all night. Are you feeling ill?"

You bit your lip, averting your gaze briefly as you weighed whether or not to open up to him. After a beat, you decided there was no sense in hiding it; Harry could always see right through you anyway.

"No, it's not that exactly. It's just..." You sighed, gesturing vaguely around the ballroom. "I feel so out of place here. Like everyone's judging me for how big I've gotten already. If I gorge myself on all the food I want, I'll probably tip right over."

A soft, sad look flashed across Harry's face. "Oh, my sweet girl." He pulled you gently into his arms, stroking a soothing hand down your back. "Is that why you've barely touched your plate tonight? Because you're self-conscious?"

You nodded against his chest, comforted by his solid warmth and the faint whiff of his cologne amidst the richer scents of the food. "I know it's ridiculous. I should be listening to my body's needs, not worrying about stupid societal expectations. But I just...I feel huge already, and my cravings have been so intense this pregnancy. I'm scared if I give in, especially to this rich food, I'll get even bigger and--"

"Y/N." Harry pulled back, cupping your cheeks to force you to meet his suddenly intense gaze, brow furrowed sternly. "You listen to me right now, alright? That's nonsense and I won't hear another word about it."

You swallowed thickly at the fierceness in his expression, heat pooling in your belly at the hint of that commanding "dad" tone you'd come to crave during your pregnancy.

"You are...stunning. Incredible," Harry breathed, his warm hands drifting down to splay reverently over your belly, like it was the most precious thing he'd ever held. "Have you looked at yourself lately? You're absolutely glowing, every inch of you fuller and softer and just...exquisite." 

His voice lowered to that rumbly timbre that could have you melting even at your horniest. "It's been a struggle to keep my hands off you as you fill out, love. Seeing you all lush and fertile like this..." He groaned softly, burning gaze raking over your body. "It's everything to me, and don't you dare deprive yourself or our babies with these silly hang ups."

You were panting softly by this point, squirming under his heated stare and the blunt weight of his words. Your arousal was a thick, heavy thing thrumming through your veins as Harry laid his desires out before you.

Harry's lips quirked in a heated, knowing smirk. He leaned in close, his plush mouth brushing the shell of your ear. "So I'm going to take you around this buffet...and pile both our plates high with anything and everything you've been craving, my insatiable girl."

A shudder rippled through you at the low, gravelly promise in his voice. Harry nipped at your earlobe teasingly before pulling back, satisfaction glinting in those emerald depths as he took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. He knew exactly how to unravel you.

"Then tonight, after we get home..." Harry's large hand drifted down to palm your lower belly, fingers splaying possessively. "I'm going to worship every new lush inch of you. Indulge my own cravings for this luxurious fertile body of yours."

You bit your lip on a small whimper, already aching for his touch. This man would be the absolute death of you.

Chuckling darkly, Harry slid his hand into yours and began leading you back towards the lavish buffet spread. Your cravings had reached a fever pitch between his heated words and the enticing aromas surrounding you. Hunger and arousal swirled dizzily within your core.

True to his promise, Harry loaded up two plates with every kind of indulgent treat - rich canapes dripping with cheese and pesto, crispy bacon-wrapped prawns, creamy mushroom vol-au-vents, and far too many miniature quiches and savory tarts to count. When you tried to protest the overflowing portions, he merely fixed you with a stern look until you subsided.

Finally, when not another morsel could be crammed on, Harry handed you your precarious tower of food with a soft smile.

"There we are, my perfect girl," he murmured, stroking a knuckle down your flushed cheek. "Now eat up for me, won't you? Gotta keep your strength up for later."

You swallowed thickly, throat suddenly dry under the heated promise in those guileless green eyes. "Yes, Harry."

The next hour or so passed in a lush, sensual haze. You found a quiet corner to tuck yourselves into, allowing you to relax and satiate your fierce cravings under Harry's reverent, watchful gaze.

With each sinful bite, each savory indulgence on your tongue, you felt your nerves melting away, replaced by the most delicious anticipation. Especially when Harry's eyes would hungrily track the movement of your lips around each morsel, his large hands roaming possessively over the swell of your belly and newly full curves.

More than once, his deft fingers slipped a decadent bite past your lips, emerald gaze darkening in blatant lust each time you laved your tongue along the thick pads to clean away any lingering flavor.

By the time your second plate was nearly cleaned, a delicious lassitude had settled over your limbs. You were absolutely stuffed and sated, the fierce edge finally shorn off your hunger. You felt...content. Sexy, even, the way Harry's heated stare roved over your figure.

Sitting back with a small sound of satiation, you let your free hand drift down to caress your rounded belly. You could've sworn you felt the twins doing pleased little flips and kicks within, satisfied by your indulgence. You smiled tenderly, lifting your eyes to find Harry watching you with naked adoration glowing in his gaze.

"Look at you," he murmured reverently, using his thumb to gently wipe away a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth. "Positively radiant and plump, my gorgeous, well-fed queen."

Then, to your utter delight and arousal, he leaned over and pressed a lingering, openmouthed kiss to the swell of your stomach, humming in contentment. "We'll have to ensure we get you home soon...I have some urgent worshiping of my own to take care of."

By the time you finally tumbled through the door of your flat, lips swollen and gasping from the heated make-out session during the Uber ride, you were both achingly worked up.

No sooner had Harry kicked the door shut behind you than he was pressing you into the wall, large hands roaming greedily over your body. The sound of your muffled moan against his mouth only spurred him on, his grip tightening possessively on your hips.

When you finally parted, panting, his eyes were blown wide with sheer animal need. Harry wasted no time in shucking his jacket and tie, practically tearing apart the buttons of his shirt before moving on to divesting you of your clothes.

Your dress was peeled down over your curves and dropped unceremoniously to the floor in Harry's haste. Soon you were bare before him, the crisp air caressing your flushed, overheated skin and the delicious ache between your thighs.

Harry hissed out a breath, strong hands mapping the lush new terrain of your body with unbridled reverence. He swallowed hard enough for you to see his throat work convulsively.

"Fucking perfection," he grated roughly. His palms smoothed over the gentle swell of your belly, fingers splaying in wonder before sliding up to cup the full, sensitive weight of your tender breasts.

A strangled sound escaped your lips as he rolled the pebbled peaks between his fingertips, the jolt of sensation arrowing straight between your legs.

"Look at you, love," Harry crooned, nudging your thighs apart to slide one thick, muscular thigh between them. You cried out softly, canting your hips to ride the delicious friction provided by his leg. "All lush and fertile and utterly exquisite. Made to be lavished and cherished. To be devoured."

His mouth was on yours again, hot and wild and devouring you just as promised. You dimly felt him undoing his trousers, kicking them and his pants aside until he was finally as bare as you.

Then Harry was everywhere His huge hands spanned your back in a heated caress as his mouth mapped every new heavenly curve and swell of your body. His broad shoulders rippled between your splayed thighs, tongue swirling hotly over your peaked nipples until you were mewling. And still he paid reverence to your heavy, aching breasts and rounded belly, pressing fervent, worshipful kisses over every inch.

By the time the slick, insistent pressure of his cock nudged against your dripping entrance, you were already trembling all over, heat coiled impossibly tight in your core.

"Let me properly cherish you, my queen," Harry rumbled, the words a gravelly prayer as he slowly, achingly buried himself to the hilt within your welcoming heat. You both groaned in unison, your walls fluttering maddeningly around his thick length as he stretched and filled you completely.

That first slow drag nearly had you shattering right then and there. Each thick inch of Harry's cock glided along every perfectly swollen, sensitive inch of you as he thrust home, dragging against that sweetest spot inside over and over again.

His large hands cupped your ass, hips rolling in a torturously languid grind, burying himself deeper with every unhurried stroke. He was devouring you from the inside out, cherishing every silken inch, and the utter reverence in his gaze as he drank in your pleasure had you spiraling higher.

When one hand came up to cup the flushed, damp curve of your cheek, the tender intimacy of it nearly undid you.

"I love you," Harry breathed, mouth finding yours in a claiming, soul-deep kiss as his hips picked up their pace, driving into you with reckless abandon now. "All of you, every lush curve. My everything, my goddess, my gorgeous wife. Mine."

You were powerless against the tide of sensation and emotion Harry wrung from you, spiraling higher and quaking apart on a broken cry of his name. Your climax swamped you with blinding pleasure, pulling Harry right over that dizzying edge with you as your convulsive inner walls dragged him under.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck with a soul-deep groan, hips jerking erratically as he poured himself into you. You clung to him as if he was the only thing anchoring you to this world while wave after wave of bliss wracked your joined forms.

By the time the tremors finally began to ebb, you were both slumped bonelessly against the wall, sweaty and utterly spent. Harry shifted just enough to pull you more securely into his arms, face still buried in your neck as you both caught your breath.

Gradually, he began nuzzling soft, reverent kisses along the slope of your shoulder, across your collarbone, up the column of your neck. His large hands stroked soothingly over your back, your sides, cradling you close against his solid warmth.

"My everything," Harry murmured, the words a hushed vow against your overheated skin. "So incredible, so loved."

You hummed softly in contentment, nosing into the damp curls at his temple as you basked in the afterglow. Despite the lingering tremors shooting through your limbs, you felt completely at peace bundled in Harry's embrace.

One of his hands drifted down to settle over the swell of your belly, fingertips tracing idle patterns across the taut skin. "Thank you, darling," he said quietly. "For taking such wonderful care of our littles ones. For giving me this precious gift."

Tilting your head, you met his shining emerald gaze with a tender smile. "As if you need to thank me for that. This—" You placed your hand atop his, cradling the firm roundness. "This is our gift, H. One I'll never stop being grateful for."

Harry's face did that crinkly thing where his eyes squinted with the force of his smile. Leaning in, he brushed his lips sweetly, reverently across yours.

"I love you incredibly, Y/N. Every inch of you, always."

Those words, combined with the sheer depth of adoration in his gaze, had your heart turning over in your chest. You tucked yourself further into his solid frame, relishing his strength and the soothing drag of his fingers over your sated body.

"I love you too," you whispered. "More than anything."

You stayed like that for a long while, trading soft caresses and murmured endearments, until Harry insisted on getting you into a warm bath to relax properly. He drew the water himself while you waited on the plush bed, arranging the tray of sumptuous treats leftover from the gala.

When he emerged wearing only a towel slung low on his hips, you felt your breath catch at the sheer masculine beauty of him. Harry merely quirked an amused brow at your reaction before holding out one large hand.

"Shall we, gorgeous? I'll even feed you those petit fours you've been eyeing, if you'reopen to it."

You took his proffered hand with a giggle, allowing him to lead you to the ensuite bathroom where aromatic oils wafted through the air and the enormous tub awaited. Harry situated you between his legs, your back to his chest, before plucking one of the miniature chocolate cakes from the tray nearby.

He presented the treat before your lips with a soft, "Open up, darling," and you obliged with a smug grin. The rich sweetness melted over your tongue as you accepted each bite Harry slipped past your lips with careful reverence.

Eventually, you drifted off into a light doze, replete and cocooned in Harry's tender embrace. He continued soothing you with quiet praise and gentle caresses, not even bothering to rouse you until the bath water started to cool.

You awoke to Harry murmuring instructions to dry off and slip into some comfy pajamas. He watched you through hooded eyes as you complied, admiring the new softness and curves that pregnancy had gifted you. With a tender smile, he ushered you back toward the bedroom, already turned down and cozy.

As you snuggled beneath the plush duvet, Harry slid in behind you, his chest warm against your back and one large palm splaying over the firm swell of your belly. You sighed in pure contentment, feeling cherished and utterly adored.

"I meant what I said earlier, you know," Harry rumbled, the words a quiet rumble against your nape. His thumb stroked soothing arcs over your stomach. "This new lush, fertile body of yours is utter perfection. I'll never stop worshipping it, worshipping you."

You bit your lip on a pleased smile, arching back against his solid frame. His free hand slid around to cup your breast, and you shivered at the careful, weighted touch.

"Let me take such good care of you both," he murmured, ducking his head to trail kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck as he cradled your heavy breast. "Make sure you stay well-fed in every way, satisfied, comfortable...like the goddesses you are."

With a blissful sigh, you melted fully into Harry's tender embrace. Every word, each featherlight caress was a balm to the lingering worries of your earlier self-consciousness. He adored this pregnancy body - round and soft and beautiful - and you knew he would move heaven and earth to ensure you felt utterly cherished and revered through it all.

Safe and loved in Harry's arms, you allowed your eyes to slip closed once more, reassured that whatever cravings or changes came next, you wouldn't face them alone. You'd meet them together.

*

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[cupid-styles]

campfire chronicles (camp counselorry)

in which harry and y/n are counselors at a sleepaway camp and he hates her from the very second he meets her. or, a classic enemies to lovers summer romance.

word count: 9.2k

content warnings: harry's a dick at first, minor mentions of childhood trauma and divorce, small panic attack scene, tiny mention of drowning, not proofread bc im lazy

so basically I started writing this a bit ago and planned for it to be a full series but then things got ... complicated and I haven't really had much motivation to write for harry. there won't be a part two to this but I think I wrapped it up pretty okay so there isn't a cliffhanger or anything!

I'm not sure if this will be the last fic I write on here but if it is, consider it a parting gift! thank you for all the support and love and I hope you enjoy!

masterlist

Harry Styles is the bane of Y/N’s existence.

…Okay, so maybe she’s being just a tad bit dramatic. But she has good reasoning for it — she swears! All she wanted to do was make some money this summer by working at Happy Campers, a sleepaway camp that was looking for counselors to work from early June to mid-August.

She’d initially seen the flier as she shlepped her canvases and painting supplies from the sculpture studio to the art building on the other side of campus (why it was designed that way, she’ll never know — she thinks whichever builder or contractor did it had some sort of vendetta against art students). In a big, bold black font casted against a bright, borderline neon yellow background (seriously, it kind of hurt her eyes, actually), were the answers to her summer plans: COUNSELORS NEEDED FOR HAPPY CAMPERS SLEEPAWAY CAMP! EXPERIENCE WITH KIDS IS A MUST. $15/HOUR FROM JUNE TO AUGUST. 

And yeah, maybe the only “experience” she had with children was babysitting her neighbor’s daughter when she was in high school, but that was apparently enough for Happy Campers. Because within two days of her interviewing with the owner, a sweet, older woman named Linda who’s been running the place for the past 30 years, she received word that she’d been hired. 

From the end of the semester to the beginning of camp, she had about three weeks to learn everything she could about being a solid counselor. She assumed the basics — no cursing, keep an eye on them at all times, try her best not to lose her cool if one of them was particularly bratty — but did some research on the rest.

She wasn’t sure what age group she’d be assigned to, but Linda told her she’d find that information out at training — a three day-long educational overhaul where the counselors were the only ones at camp, learning about everything from lifeguarding to CPR to mental health awareness.

Happy Campers was located only about an hour and a half from her college apartment so it made more sense for her to depart from there instead of her hometown. On the drive up in her shitty Honda Accord (a navy 2008 model she affectionately named Edith), she tried her best to calm her nerves. She thought it was silly for her to be so anxious over surrounding herself with kids all summer, and a small part of her hoped she would get assigned to an older group — 5th or 6th grades would be ideal since they were sufficient enough not to be too clingy.

As the small university city slowly melted away, tall buildings and chain restaurants were replaced by sturdy oak trees and an abundance of greenery. When her drive had officially shimmied down to just 20 minutes left, she rolled down her window and lowered her music, allowing herself to inhale the fresh air. Even at her 45 mile per hour speed (5 below the speed limit, just in case some ticket-happy police cars were hiding out somewhere), she found a spark of hope in the clean, crispy air that infiltrated the interior of her car. 

Maybe this summer was exactly what she needed.

Perhaps the warm, summer air got to Y/N’s head a bit too much. 

The second she pulls into the faculty lot at Happy Campers, she’s inundated with people everywhere. Some are hugging excitedly, greeting one another after what she assumes has been a year away, while others are pulling their hefty duffles from their trunks and throwing them in heaps on the ground. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she tries to find a parking space to pull into, her eyes twinkling some as she spots one. She flicks her right blinker on, prepared to make the turn when an older, much shitter car than hers pulls through. 

Her jaw immediately drops. Was this a joke? Some kind of first-time counselor hazing thing? Instantly, she rolls her window down and tries to get the driver’s attention, but from what she can see, he’s already busied himself with getting his things together and getting out of his car.

“Hey! Excuse me!” she calls out, waving her hands at him. When he slams his door shut and ambles in the direction of his trunk, a backpack slung on his right shoulder, she yells out louder this time, grabbing the attention of innocent bystanders. This time, she catches his attention and he furrows his eyebrows, shuffling over to Y/N’s car. 

“Yeah?” he asks, almost as if he hasn’t even realized that he completely cut her off. 

“That was my spot,” she says, pointing to where his car now resides. If she had to guess, it’s from the early 2000s — 2004 at best, she thinks. “And you took it.”

The curly haired brunette quickly turns to look at his car before whipping back around, “Was it reserved for you?”

“No, but I had my signal on and I was about to turn in—”

“Then it wasn’t your spot.” he replies, tightening his grasp around his backpack. 

“I had my signal on—”

“Yes, I heard you the first time.” he huffs, his tone bored. Y/N’s eyebrows raise at his blase demeanor. “There’s another parking lot. You’ll be fine.”

Before she has a chance to fight back, he turns on his heel to head back to his car. She watches angrily as he pulls his suitcase out with minimal effort despite the fact that it looks like it’s stuffed to the brim. When he notices her still looking at him, he shoots her an angry glare, as if to say, can I help you?

Y/N breathes out angrily through her nose as she rolls her window back up. What a dick!

Harry tries his best not to be an asshole. 

Really, he does! He thinks he does a decent job of walking around campus and attending his classes without being a complete and utter grump (although his friends do tease him about the scowl that manages to wiggle its way onto his face sometimes). He’s gotten better at participating in lecture-wide discussions without accidentally calling the previous person a stupid prick (the guy who received that one actually deserved it, after he claimed that feminism was a liberal farce in one of his gender studies classes). 

However… the one thing that triggers that crabby, ill-tempered part of him more than anything else in the world is Happy Campers. 

It’s not because he hates the place or anything of the sort. His parents didn’t send him away when he was 7, making him spend his summers in nature year after year while he yearned for the bustling city he’d been born in. It was actually the complete opposite. He’d had to beg his mum the first year he saw the posting for it in the halls of his elementary school, immediately thrilled by the promises on the yellow paper: Boating! Swimming! Archery! Campfires! Harry couldn’t think of a better way to spend the next two and a half months of his life!

At first, his parents assumed he’d let it go after a day or two. He’d never spent a weekend away from them, let alone an entire summer. And while his mum wasn’t proud of it, she knew her son lived in the shadow of his older sister. More likely than not, she’d just end up enrolling them both in the same soccer day camp like she did last summer, and the one before that. 

Much to their surprise, though, Harry wouldn’t let up about Happy Campers. Every morning when he woke up, he asked if they had made a decision yet. When he got home from school that afternoon, he brought up the exciting activities they offered, listing off fun facts he’d Googled in the computer room about the benefits of being in nature. So when May finally tottled around and Harry was still talking about this magical sleepaway camp, they realized they had no choice but to get him a spot.

His first summer there was more fun than he ever could have imagined. He met kids his age from all over the country, spent his days learning new skills and swimming in the lake, and ended the evening with spooky stories and s’mores around a fire. Soon, a pattern began: His parents would all but drag him home at the end of the summer, he’d go to school for the year, and then begin counting down the days until the next session began. For years, Happy Campers was the only place Harry wanted to be.

When he eventually aged out of being a camper, Linda approached him about coming back as a counselor next year. He was 14 at the time and completely ecstatic — really, he couldn’t have said yes quicker, especially since things at home were getting tougher. 

His parents were in the middle of an ugly separation, his sister was older and wanting nothing to do with him, and everything about school was confusing. From social status to crushes and grades, he wanted nothing more than to hide away at Happy Campers for as long as humanly possible. For each of his teenage years, he returned as a counselor, eager to forget about his home life and go back to the only things that made sense to him: Swimming in the lake, spending lengthy, sweaty days in the sun, and making sure these kids had unforgettable summers. 

When he was at camp, nothing else mattered. He escaped from breakups, family fights, bad grades, and hard life decisions, using the site as a crutch to get through to the other side. 

So it’s possible that he’s a bit… protective of his final year at Happy Campers. 

After this summer, he’ll only have one semester left as a student in his university’s political science department. From there, he already has a job lined up at a politician’s office in their communication sector. But it also means that he’ll be working full-time, ergo… no more Happy Campers.

This place is his second home. He knows it’ll be difficult saying goodbye to it, but dammit if he’s not determined to have an incredible last few months as a counselor — yeah, maybe he’s a bit careless when it comes to acknowledging the newbies, who seem helpless, clueless, and all-around confused. But he’s not there for them. He’s here for himself, and the kids.

So, fuck the weak little new girl who couldn’t even snag her own parking spot in the faculty lot. She’ll probably be heading home before the first month anyway.

“Hello counselors, and welcome to Happy Campers!”

Harry has to admit that even in her old age, Linda still has the same jolly, feel-good attitude she did the first summer he attended. 

And while he loves her — truly, he does, and he even called her up when he found out this year would be his last — he can’t help but slowly start to zone out as she launches into her annual speech about being a welcoming, safe, and (you guessed it) happy counselor. 

Harry’s been certified and trained for just about every safety precaution imaginable. 

Campfire safety tips? Yup.

Sun and heat protection? Obviously. (And he knows what to do in the event of sunburns — because there’s always a few — and, in the rare case, sun poisoning.)

Fire safety? Duh.

Lifeguarding? He’s been trained since he was 15 and does weekly laps at his school’s indoor pool.

Emergency procedures, food service, behavior management techniques, appropriate camper and staff behavior, and Happy Camper-specific regulations for supervision? God, he could recite them in all his sleep.

He can feel the mood of the room gradually begin to slump as Linda continues droning on about the importance of memorizing the handbook. Really, all anyone cares about right now is receiving their camper assignments. It’s the one mystery Linda tries to keep until the first day of training. Supposedly, placements are done at random, but Harry’s received his favorite group every year: 5th grade boys. They’re competent enough to take care of themselves (that means they know how to shower, go to the bathroom, and change their clothes without Harry’s assistance), but they’re a ton of fun, too. It’s the perfect age so he knows it’s a given that Linda assigned him to the same age as usual, especially since it’s his last time. 

The room noticeably perks up when Linda announces that she’ll be unveiling assignments before they break for lunch. He can feel the nerves radiating off of most of the counselors — he would be anxious, too, if he didn’t know who he was spending his summer with. He can’t think of a worse fate than being lumped in with a newbie or getting one of the younger groups — ugh. Last summer, Pauli, one of his counselor friends, got 3rd grade boys, which ended up being a mess of homesickness and actual sickness from lack of self-control at ice cream sundae night.

Harry’s sitting in his uncomfortable fold-up chair, arms folded over his eat your honey tee-shirt as he waits for Linda to finish up so he can demolish a lackluster sandwich in the mess hall. He pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, then jiggles his leg, then crosses his ankles. He’s bored, and tired, and hungry, and—

“2nd grade boys, Harry Styles,” Linda booms over the microphone, “2nd grade girls, Y/N Y/L/N.”

What?

This has to be a prank. Linda’s a lighthearted woman and, yeah, maybe he’s hardly seen her joke around about camp-related activities in the 16 years he’s known her, but maybe she decided to start now.

Right?

But then she claps her hands and announces that their lunch break has officially begun, and Harry’s up and out of his chair faster than you can even say second grade. Long, hurried strides take him in the direction of his boss, his eye borderline twitching at the thought of dealing with little kids instead of his usual fifth graders. 

“Linda!” he calls out, attempting to grab her attention over the hasty sounds of everyone leaving the room. 

“Oh, hi Harry!” she grins, turning to face him, “Lovely to see you again. Are you excited for the summer?”

“Um, yeah,” he rushes out as he lifts a hand to tug at the roots of his hair. “Quick question though, why am I paired with—”

“Y/N!” The shrill call of Linda’s voice cuts Harry off and he grits his teeth. He glances to his side to see the girl from the parking lot — the one who all but bit his head off for taking a free parking spot. He resists the urge to roll his eyes and redirects his attention to the older woman standing in front of them. 

“Linda, I really need to talk to you—”

“Harry, this is Y/N, your fellow counselor for the second graders,” Linda grins as she slings an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. The girl blinks, her eyes narrowing as she recognizes Harry. It’s clear that she remembers him too, so she straightens her posture some and ignores him. “Y/N is new to our counseling program but I think you two will get along great!”

“That’s great, Linda, but I really just need a second with you—”

“I do, too,” Y/N pipes up from beside him and it makes Harry’s jaw clench even tighter. “I think I mentioned in our interview that I’m not the most comfortable with younger kids—”

“Yeah, and I always have 5th grade boys, so I’m not really sure what’s—”

Linda claps her hands loudly, bringing both of their complaints to an immediate stop. When they both part their lips, jaws slightly ajar, she smiles gently. 

“Harry, I know this probably isn’t what you were expecting, but it’s your last year and I figured it would be good to change things up,” she says. He goes to reply, but she places an open palm up, wordlessly signaling to let her finish talking. “And Y/N, I know you requested an older group. But Harry’s one of our most experienced counselors, so I know it won’t be too much of an issue if you were paired up together.”

They both stand there silently. 

“Unfortunately, assignments are final. If you have an issue with it, you’re welcome to leave. There is a lengthy waitlist of people who weren’t hired.”

When neither of them respond, both slightly surprised by Linda’s sudden strike of authority, she grins. 

“Good, then! I’m looking forward to seeing you two work together this summer,” she pats each of them on the shoulder, sending them an enthusiastic smile. “Now hurry up and get to the mess hall for lunch! We have an afternoon packed with trainings!”

The sound of Linda’s Teva sandals scurrying away is the only thing that permeates the awkward silence between the two. A moment later, when Y/N has finally somewhat awoken from her brief rendezvous with the five stages of grief, she mutters the same thing that’s on Harry’s mind: “Fuck me.”

The first two days of training are hopelessly boring. 

Y/N spends every second of her day in some sort of seminar, educational meeting, or training. When she’s not listening (or pretending to, anyway — she thinks she’ll be able to manage a decent job at “conflict resolution” between seven year olds), she’s doing hands-on certifications. She has to prove that she knows how to do CPR, the Heimleich, administer EPIPENS, allergy shots, and asthma pumps, and, maybe worst of all, pull a 45-pound mannequin out of the lake. (It’s in case one of the campers accidentally drowns or flounders in the water, but she hates the fact that the dummy they’re using looks like it’s likely from the 1980s, far too worn out to be using in 2024.)

Every night, Y/N hits the paper thin mattress in her cabin like she hasn’t slept in years. She barely has enough energy to shower and brush her hair before her eyelids are fluttering closed. She hasn’t even met her roommate yet, and the only reason why she knows she has one is because all of her things are neatly organized in the main room and bathroom. 

On day three of counseling training (and the day before camp officially begins), Linda announces that they’re to spend the next few hours getting to know their co-counselor and planning activities for their groups. The girls and boys aren’t expected to do everything together but there’s a certain level of socialization expected, especially on rainy days when regular outdoor routines are washed out. 

Y/N’s torn — she’s glad she doesn’t have to be on her feet all day, going between laborious certifications to boring meetings, but she definitely doesn’t want to spend any extra time with Harry. Since learning that they were lumped together for the summer, she’d seen him around, but neither of them made any attempt at conversation. She passed by him in the mess hall every meal, saw him at lifeguard training, and sat two rows behind him at the mental health and wellness seminar, but they ignored one another as if nothing had occurred on the first day. 

Truthfully, that was fine and dandy for Y/N. She knows they don’t have to be friends or even acquaintances. Co-existence was the primary goal, but she was unsure if that was possible when he seemed to be a total and right dick. 

That morning, after Linda’s daily morning announcements, she instructs all the counselors to find their partner and get to know one another. Y/N nibbles on her bottom lip as she searches the room for him, trying to find the head of brown curls (it was the one identifying factor she remembered about him, besides having a British accent). Of course, he ends up finding her first because she chose today of all days to cover his hair with a navy baseball cap. He’s already scowling at her before she even says anything and she holds in a sigh as he plops down next to her.

“Listen, I don’t really want to spend the entire summer fighting with you—”

“Who said anything about fighting?” Harry asks, wrinkling his nose in her direction. Y/N’s eyebrow involuntarily quirks, clearly confused by his response. “What makes you think I care to even fight with you?”

“...Okay,” Y/N replies slowly, “That’s fine, I’m just saying we should try to coexist for the sake of the kids.”

“Right.” he chuckles humorlessly, lifting his cup of coffee to his mouth. The insulated mug looks helplessly small in his large hand and she flits her eyes back to his face. “You’re new, right?”

She blinks. “Yes.”

“I’ve been coming here since I was in second grade. For years, I was the only person who got to counsel the fifth grade boys but for whatever reason, Linda decided she wanted to stick me with the youngest group. That’s whatever—”

“Well, she said it was because she wanted to shake things up—”

Harry sends a harsh look her way. “I’m not finished,” he says, and Y/N’s mouth clamps shut. “The whole second grade thing would be way more chill if I wasn’t stuck with a new counselor who hasn't spent a day in her life outside of the city, but I’m not. For whatever ungodly reason, Linda assigned us together, and I’m pissed. Alright?”

Despite the frustration and anger building in Y/N’s chest, she swallows it down. Instead she takes a page out of the conflict resolution training they had yesterday (maybe it was useful) and nods her head. 

“I understand that, Harry. You’re allowed to be pissed. But you have to understand, I didn’t do anything wrong here.”

He snorts, “You shouldn’t have signed up to be here. That’s what you did wrong.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. 

“So because I wanted a summer job, I’m a bad person? Have you ever considered that you’re just being a prissy little bitch because you didn’t get your way?”

“I don’t really give a shit what you think,” Harry replies, shrugging his shoulders, “Because this is my summer. So whether you like it or not, we’re playing by my rules.”

“Yeah, okay,” Y/N guffaws. She stands up from her metal chair, deciding she’s finished with this conversation for now. She won’t allow Harry to demean her life decisions just because he’s unhappy with where he got placed. “It’s fucking summer camp, asshole. Lighten up.”

Y/N spends the remainder of her day brainstorming ways to entertain second graders. 

She doesn’t really care if Harry doesn’t want to cooperate, or even coexist with her. If he wants to be immature, fine! If he wants to blame her for all the things that are already going wrong with his summer, fine! She tried her best to negotiate with him and, quite frankly, it’s not on her to settle a grown man’s temper. 

At a certain point, when the anger and annoyance and frustration has cooled down some, she finds it a little relaxing. She sits by the lake and allows herself to dig her toes in the cool sand. Yesterday, she’d spent the better part of her afternoon absolutely baking beneath the bright sun, listening to one of the higher-ups talk about swimming safety. Today was far more peaceful, even with the little worms of anxiety slowly beginning to wiggle their way into her brain. As she jotted down a list of activity ideas for their kids, she tried not to get too nervous about their arrival tomorrow. 

She doesn’t have too much time to worry, though, since when she makes her way back to her cabin that evening, she finally meets her bunkmate, a sweet girl named Zara. It’s her third summer returning as a counselor so she’s far more acquainted with everything than Y/N is, and she pledges to help her out as much as she can. It relaxes her nerves even more as she climbs into the tiny shower to wash off the sun and sweat from her body before she heads to bed for the night. At home, she’s always been the type to stay up far too late, but between the hazy sunrays and jampacked days, she’s been finding herself way more tired than usual. 

When Y/N finishes her shower with her hair brushed, moisturizer applied, and pajamas on (which was really more of a pair of sleep shorts and a ratty tee-shirt from her high school’s club volleyball team), Zara flashes her an excited grin.

“Harry came by,” she says before Y/N’s even made it to her bed, “He was looking for you.”

Y/N tries not to roll her eyes at the mention of his name. She didn’t want to say anything mean in case they were camp buddies, or whatever the fuck it was called, but she had to admit, she’d think just a bit lower of Zara if she was friends with Harry.

“We’re both working with the second graders this year. He’s pissed so we didn’t do any planning today.” she replies, running a hand through her damp hair as she sits on the edge of the flimsy mattress.

“God, you’re so lucky. He’s so hot, isn’t he?”

She resists the urge to gag, “I mean, maybe he would be if he hadn’t been a total dick to me earlier.”

“I’d ignore that if it meant I got to look at him all day,” Zara giggles, grabbing a folded up piece of paper from the edge of her neatly made bed, “Anyway, he dropped this off for you. Chances are it’s a steamy love note?”

“Slim to none.” Y/N mutters as she accepts the paper from her roommate. She nestles beneath the scratchy covers and flips it open, her eyes immediately meeting a sheet full of messy handwriting.

-DIY paper kites

-painting

-indoor scavenger hunt

-talent show

-charades

-friendship bracelet making

-tie dye 

-rock painting

Sorry for being shitty today. I’ll try to be better. No promises.

-H

She waits until Zara’s snoring softly before she folds the paper back up and stuffs it into the spine of her journal, right where she wrote down her list of activity ideas.

On the first official day of camp, Y/N quickly learns a few things. 

One: Second grade girls aren’t as scary as she had anticipated. They’re actually quite sweet, if not a bit nervous and apprehensive. Y/N understands that — in fact, she’s felt the same way since arriving at camp a few days ago, so she finds herself bonding with the small group of girls more than she thought she would.

Two: Even if Harry says he’ll try better, he’s probably lying. 

Now, she hadn’t expected him to do a complete 360 and show up to her cabin at 6 a.m. with an apology coffee and muffin. But it would have been nice if he did as much as acknowledge her existence, especially in front of the kids!

That morning, Y/N even wakes up with slightly high hopes as she spends her first few hours of consciousness helping her campers get acclimated to their new lifestyle. But that afternoon, when the girls and boys groups get together for quick introductions and bonding, Harry doesn’t even care to introduce her. Instead, he stands there, effortlessly capturing the attention of every last one of their kids, and just… skips over Y/N!

He skips over her!

Y/N has to clear her throat and step forward, forcing a friendly grin onto her face like she isn’t prepared to rip Harry a new one as soon as they bring their group to dinner. 

“And I’m Y/N! My second grade girls know I’ll be taking care of them this summer, but I’ll be around to help Harry with the boys, too,” she says. 

“Right, yeah—”

“I can’t wait to get to know each of you this summer,” Y/N continues on. Truthfully, she hadn’t planned to proceed with some type of spiel, but she’s in the mood to be spiteful. How couldn’t she, when Harry refuses to even recognize the fact that she’s just as important? “My door is always open and I’m so excited to have a wonderful few months with you.”

The kids have zoned out by now with their blank, moony gazes. Swallowing awkwardly, she takes a step back as Harry sends her a dirty look. 

“You done, then?” he mutters. 

Blinking, Y/N nods curtly.

“Great,” he mumbles, “Well, I think it’s been a long day for everyone, so why don’t we head to the mess hall for dinner? Tonight, we have a camp-wide bonfire and s’mores on the agenda so don’t eat too much!” 

Thankfully, the kids didn’t notice the tension between Harry and Y/N, and excitedly get up from their spots on the ground to follow them to their next meal. Already, Y/N notices that the boys are attached to Harry, asking him a million questions about anything and everything. She hears thrilled chatter from tiny, high-pitched voices as she silently walks next to her own campers. 

“Harry, why do you talk funny?” (He briefly explains that he was born in London, which he refers to as a far away place in a country called the United Kingdom.)

“How old are you?” (He’s 22, just a year older than Y/N.)

“Do you have any sisters? I have one at home and she’s so annoying!” (He has one and she’s in London.)

“Do you have a girlfriend?” 

For some reason, that one makes Y/N listen just a little bit harder. She’s not sure why — maybe it’s because he’s been so persistently rude to her that she simply can’t imagine any girl willingly committing herself to him. She’s not stupid enough to deny the fact that Harry is attractive in the most conventional way, with his broad shoulders, curly hair, and ridiculously tattooed body, but she didn’t think that was enough of a justification to put up with his bullshit.

Harry chuckles at the question that comes from a boy with blonde hair and squinty eyes, hidden behind a thick pair of glasses. 

“No,” he answers, shaking his head as he pulls open the door for the mess hall, “No girlfriend for me. Besides, why would I need one when I have all of you to keep me entertained for the summer?”

Y/N swallows tightly at that.

The first full week of camp is exhausting.

Every day, Y/N has an alarm set for 7 a.m. She showers, brushes her teeth, and does something with her hair so it’s not sticking to her sweaty neck all day. She pulls one of her four camp tee-shirts on (they all have huge, blocky lettering on the back that reads COUNSELOR), a pair of shorts, and the only pair of comfortable sneakers she owns. (She doesn’t know how Harry walks around in his dirty white Vans day in and day out. She owns a pair herself and they have minimal support, so it further annoys her that he gets to wear cute shoes while she’s stuck in a pair of running shoes.) 

From there, she’ll usually have a short and sweet conversation with Zara, who’s just as tired from taking care of her fourth grade girls. After that, she ambles across the campsite over to her group to make sure they’re all awake and getting ready for breakfast. They usually all are, with the exception of Livvy, who is particularly awful at waking up in the morning. She always has a grumpy look on her face as Y/N leads them to the mess hall for their first meal and, for some reason, it always makes her laugh to herself. 

Y/N accompanies the girls while they eat, making sure to get some sustenance in her stomach as well. She typically opts for some fruit and a bagel or toast, accompanied by the shitty watery coffee from the machine in the corner. After breakfast, Y/N plucks the schedule from the bulletin board outside the mess hall (Linda writes out a new one every day, ensuring that every group is able to try out different activities). Mornings are usually a variation of sports, then lunch, and then more relaxed activities, like ceramics or jewelry making. The second graders always have swimming at 3 p.m., which would maybe be a nice way to decompress after a hot, muggy day in the sun, if not for having to be around Harry.

She’s figured out that there’s two variations of Harry: On good days, he’ll ignore her. He’ll grab a chair, stick it in the sand, and scroll on his phone until the 5 p.m. dinner bell rings. On bad days (which usually means one of his campers gave him a hard time), he’ll torture her. He’ll critique every aspect of her approach to interacting with the kids and tell her what she’s doing wrong. (Tuesday, for instance, was a bad day. Apparently, Franklin had a total freak out about not wanting to play soccer that morning and decided to be Harry’s worst nightmare all day long, screeching about how much he hated camp. As a result, Harry showed up to swimming and spent an entire hour critizing Y/N: “You need to bring more snacks with you during the day. What if one of them gets woozy during sports? And you better carry at least three bottles of sunscreen or I swear to god, I’ll report you to Linda. That would be a stupid rookie move.”)

The whole thing is giving her emotional whiplash and is just as exhausting as being a counselor to kids all day. If Linda hadn’t had such a poor response to the two of them wanting to switch at the beginning of training, she would already be in her office and pleading her case. So when Friday rolls around and she can just tell that Harry’s had a bad day based on the dim sunglasses covering his eyes, she decides she’s not going to put up with it anymore — not for a single second longer.

She’s unsurprised when, as she’s keeping an eye on her girls playing Mermaids in the shallow end of the lake (a quintessential summer swimming game, she thinks), Harry plops down in his usual chair with a scowl on his face. Her eye roll is hidden behind her own pair of shades, and she attempts to ignore the anger radiating off of him as she digs her toes in the sand. Again — this whole situation has the potential to be relaxing. All she’s missing is… well, Harry leaving.

“Livvy told Ethan that you come into their bunk every morning to wake her up,” he says, lifting his metal reusable water bottle to his mouth, “You really shouldn’t do that. She needs to learn how to get up on her own.”

“Mind your business, Harry.” she replies, short and curt. She inhales through her nose as a breeze passes through the manmade beach.

“That is my business.”

“It’s really not,” Y/N snaps, whipping around to face him. She tears her sunglasses off her face so he can see the red hot anger burning in her eyes. “And I’m so sick of you being rude to me every single day. I’m not a punching bag, Harry, I’m a human being. If you don’t like your situation, fine, but that’s not my problem. So keep your shit to yourself for the rest of the summer, alright?”

She scuttles up from her spot, grabbing her sneakers and towel before marching halfway across the beach to where the girls are playing. Fury is still raging through her as she plops down at the shoreline with a harsh exhale. She allows the rolling tide to wash over her feet and tries to focus on the cold water instead of the insufferable man still sitting there dumbly.

“Y/N?”

Her head rises when she hears the small voice of one her campers. It comes from Alison, a sweet, kind girl with unruly ginger locks and a smattering of freckles over her face.

“No! Don’t ask her, she’ll tell on us.” Lucy urges from beside her, a frustrated pout on her lips.

“She said we could always come to her,” Alison whispers loudly. Y/N’s heartbeat increases just a tad, worried that something’s gone wrong right under her nose. “Y/N, I have a question, and I was wondering if you could answer it.”

Y/N clears her throat, “Well, I promise I won’t tell anyone about it as long as it’s nothing too serious… you guys know I have to, like, report if an adult’s being inappropriate or something, though, right?”

“Yeah. Stranger danger,” Claire nods matter-of-factly, “My mom gave me a talk before I came here. No letting people touch you an’ stuff.”

“That’s right,” Y/N agrees with a small smile. “Is it anything like that, Alison?”

She shakes her head. 

“Okay, so yeah. It can be our little secret then.”

Despite the persistent frown on Lucy’s face, Alison nods. 

“Okay… well, we were wondering… is it true that when a boy is mean to you, it’s ‘cos he likes you?”

Y/N purses her lips. “Um… I mean, some people say that. I don’t necessarily know if it’s true, though.”

“Has it happened to you?” Claire asks hopefully. 

“Has a boy been mean to me because he likes me?”

The three girls nod enthusiastically. 

She thinks back for a moment — she’s only been in one real relationship before, followed by a series of flings with lackluster people that haven’t always been the best. She doesn’t think they were mean to her because they were attracted to her, though. It was probably because she failed to have a backbone in their situationships.

“No,” she finally answers with a shake of her head, “No, and if someone likes you, they’ll care about showing it. They’ll do nice things and compliment you and… and they won’t make you wonder all the time.”

Each girl looks just as confused and lost as Y/N feels.

“...And we shouldn’t be worrying about boys this summer anyway,” she quickly tacks on, attempting to save the conversation, “Girls rule. Right?”

When grins break out on their faces, she’s thankful that second graders aren’t as emotionally aware as adults.

For the next two weeks, things go as smoothly as expected. 

Y/N is relieved that, for once, Harry heeds her advice. They barely speak with the exception of deciding on an activity to do with the kids, and even then it’s as short and succinct as humanly possible:

“Friendship bracelet making?” 

“Sure.”

In their brief moments of downtime, Y/N sticks to hanging around Zara and her friends Sarah and Mitch. They’re all very nice — she and Zara have a lot in common, and Sarah and Mitch have been working as counselors for the past two summers. They’re both friendly with Harry, and Y/N is shocked (but not entirely surprised) to find out that he isn’t a total dick with everyone, just with her. Sarah’s somewhat puzzled upon finding out that he’s been giving her a hard time in just about everything, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth when Y/N explains how they ended up at this point.

“He’s fairly protective of this place,” Sarah replies. Her tone is soft and soothing so it’s incredibly difficult to argue with her on any line of defense against him, even if she’s not intentionally doing so. “He shouldn’t be so mean to you, but I think this is his safe haven. Mitch said that he’s been going through some stuff and… well, I’m sorry you don’t get to experience the nice version of him.”

So am I, Y/N thinks to herself.

It’s what she’s ruminating on as she sits in the bleachers, watching her girls play soccer. (Well, half of them are playing soccer. The other half are in a circle, making lanyard keychains, and giggling about Henry Moore, a boy in the fifth grade group that apparently every girl has a crush on. It makes Y/N’s heart warm and her chest concave slightly; to watch girlhood in its purest form with the hopes that no one ever hurts them.) 

She wonders when things got this way. When fun, gleeful crushes that made her feel like a shaken can of soda, fizzy and lightheaded, faded away and were replaced with mean guys who had no reason to despise her. She swallows the lump in her throat that formed without her permission and digs her sneakered heel into the gravel below the bleachers. 

When she hears the familiar sound of rambunctious boys approaching, she quickly tucks her sunglasses behind her ears, wary of the watery eyes behind them. She sees Harry, basketball in hand, in his usual camp garb — athletic shorts and some variation of a borderline inappropriate graphic tee-shirt; this one has the words I like to watch scrawled across the chest. Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. She’s sure Linda would hand his ass to him if she saw him wearing that. Really, she wishes she would.

The groups intermingle effortlessly. That was one thing she was thankful for — that most of their campers got along and it was easy to take a break when they ended their days doing whatever activity together. The soccer game proceeds, now bigger with formed teams, while a few of the other boys join the lanyard circle. Wordlessly, Harry climbs up on the bleachers Y/N’s currently perched on, taking a seat two benches above her. 

It’s their usual routine of silence and she can probably predict what he’s doing. Right now, he’s probably shifted his black sunglasses from the bridge of his nose up to his wavy brown hair and squinting at his phone. He has a pink phone case, and the device always manages to look stupidly small in his hand while he uses his oversized thumb to scroll through whatever social media app has his attention. 

Y/N holds in a sigh, leaning her head to the side and pressing her ear against her shoulder. She allows her eyes to flutter shut for a few brief moments, inhaling through her nose and listening to the kids’ high-pitched chatter. It’s only when she feels the presence of someone beside her that she opens her eyes, eyebrows thick with worry when she sees Micky, one of Harry’s campers, standing in front of them.

“What’s up, Mick?” Harry asks from above her. She resists the urge to scowl — she could have handled it without him, and she hopes that whatever he needs, it’s a ridiculous request that he’ll have to handle and—

“I miss my mom.”

Y/N’s eyes widen when Micky’s eyes suddenly flood with tears. Quickly, she pushes her sunglasses back into her hair, her lips instantly parting into a sympathetic frown. 

“Micky,” she coos, her heart melting at the sight in front of her, “It’s okay. It’s okay to miss your mom, I know how you feel.”

He’s a mess of tears and snot, his little hand reaching up to knuckle at his bloodshot eyes. Y/N looks up at Harry, who seems just as worried and equally lost. He shuffles down to the same bench Y/N sits at so he’s eye level with him and presses a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“C’mon, you gotta breathe, Mick,” he encourages, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. He only continues in his tearful fit, not listening to a word either one of the counselors say. Helpless, Harry turns to Y/N, his eyes encompassing all the nerves running through each of them. 

“Mick, you have to listen to Harry,” Y/N says, reaching out to grab his hand. She squeezes it in an effort to gain his attention. “Breathe, sweetheart. Look at Harry. He’s gonna help you breathe, okay?”

Thankfully, Micky’s eyes bat open. Harry’s taking slow, deep inhales and exhales and he does the same, though his are shuttered with weepy quivers. 

“You’re doing so good,” Y/N smiles, giving his hand another squeeze. “There you go, just keep following Harry.”

Eventually, his tears stop some and his breathing regulates itself. Harry guides him onto the bench, wiggling his smaller form between his and Y/N’s. 

“It’s totally normal to miss your mum,” Harry says, leaning his elbows back. “But think about all the awesome times you’ve had here so far. You’ve been absolutely killing it at Four Square and you’re a master at ceramics. She’s gonna be so pumped when she sees that cup you made.”

“I’ve never been away from her for this long.” Micky peeps out in a small voice. Y/N swallows, her heart cracking just a tiny bit more.

“Micky, you wanna know a secret?” she asks. Harry and Micky both turn to her and she holds in a snort at the former’s intrigued facial expression. “This is the longest I’ve been away from my parents, too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” she nods, “And I miss them so much. But I’m having a really good summer here. Are you?”

Micky thinks for a moment. A second later, he nods.

“What’s been your favorite part?”

“I really like swimming,” he replies. Y/N grins. “But I like you and Harry more. You guys are my favorite.”

Her eyebrows raise involuntarily and Harry coughs into his hand. 

“You’re just like my big sister and her boyfriend,” he continues. Y/N’s eyes dart over to Harry, who looks like he wants to run for the hills. “They’re always really nice to me. And sometimes they fight and that makes my sister grumpy. But they always come back together. And even if they’re mad at each other, they never stop being nice to me.”

“Well, that sounds really nice, Mick—”

“And one time, he was dropping my sister off at home and I looked outside my window ‘cos I had a present for him but the windows in his car were all foggy and I don’t really know why but—”

“Harry, didn’t Linda say that there were orange popsicles at the nurse’s cabin today?” Y/N asks through a squeaky voice. He blinks and nods quickly, excitedly wagging his finger at her in agreement.

“Yes! She did!” he exclaims, popping up from his seat, “Micky, do you want an orange popsicle? Maybe Y/N can take you?”

“Oh yeah, those are my favorite!” 

Y/N is eager and happy to escape this terribly awkward moment. 

Y/N doesn’t see Harry for the rest of the afternoon. 

That’s fine with her, since she thinks she’s still blushing from Micky’s little Peeping Tom recollection. She brought him to the dining hall after he ate his popsicle and gave his mom a call and, by then, he was back to normal, excited to eat dinner alongside his fellow campers. Y/N picked at a lackluster meal of beef tacos, though she was happy to listen to Zara, Sarah, and Mitch chatter on about… well, whatever it was they were talking about. 

After dinner, there’s a bonfire, and then it’s lights out. She’s exhausted by the time she gets her girls back to their cabin, ensuring that they’re all tucked in for a restful night. She closes their door with a depleted sigh, listening for the quiet click of the hinge before she jogs down the stairs and starts her walk back to her own dwelling.

Only, she nearly jumps five feet in the air when Harry’s standing there.

“Fucking Christ!” she whispers as her heart slams against her ribcage, “Is there a reason you’re standing there like a fucking creep? Or are you taking a page out of Micky’s weird little sneaky book?”

Harry snorts at that before shaking his head. “Sorry. I just put the boys to bed and I saw you were leaving. I wasn’t being creepy, I promise.”

“That’s something a creep would say.”

“I realize that,” he replies, digging his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts, “But I mean it. I’m nowhere near as creepy as Micky.”

“Shut up,” she mutters, trying to wipe the smile off her face from his joke. “He didn’t know any better.”

“I know. I’m just kidding.” 

They stand there across from one another for another beat or two before he juts his thumb in the direction of the counselor cabins. 

“Can I walk you back to yours?”

Y/N swallows. And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, she says, “okay.”

At first, it’s silent. The only sound is the gravel crunching beneath their shoes as Y/N tucks her arms over her chest, goosebumps forming over her skin from the night chill. Finally, Harry ventures a glance at her. 

“I want to apologize,” he says, and at first, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating. “I’ve been really awful to you and… I shouldn’t have been.”

A snarky response sneaks past her lips before she has a chance to take it back: “Did you just realize that?”

“No,” Harry admits. She’s surprised he doesn’t reply with something equally as sarcastic. “I realized it a few weeks ago, when you yelled at me at the lake. I didn’t realize how shitty I was being to you but… then Sarah talked to me and asked why I was being this way with you, and I didn’t even have a good answer for her because you’ve been so good with the kids and you clearly do care about them and giving them a good summer. And I just felt like such a fucking idiot.”

Y/N hums non-committedly. 

“And then today with Micky, it just reminded me a lot of myself when I used to come here as a camper. This was my safe place for many, many years. There’s a small part of me that thinks it still is. I used to have panic attacks midway through the summer when I would think about life back home and the bullshit I was escaping.”

She swallows. A pit forms at the bottom of her stomach when she thinks about a young Harry having the same reaction as Micky did today.

“And I don’t know, I just thought about… how if I had you as a counselor, I would feel really comfortable and happy,” he continues, “And… minus the weird shit Micky said, I was happy to hear that he likes us together.”

Her throat dries a bit at that but she forces herself to swallow as he looks at her for a response.

“Thank you,” she finally mumbles out. They’re stopped at the side of her cabin now, and she desperately hopes that Zara is fast asleep and can’t hear an inkling of their conversation. “I appreciate that. I wish we hadn’t… y’know, gotten off on such a rocky start, but… you are really good with the kids. And I think that we do work well together, even if we’re barely speaking to one another.”

He smirks at that before shaking his head, his gaze falling to the grassy plane beneath them. 

“It was all very immature of me and for that, I really am so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, leaning back against the wood siding of the lodge, “Water under the bridge, yeah?”

Harry looks back up, his eyes finding hers. With his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip, he nods. 

“Water under the bridge,” he agrees.

And she can’t figure out why, but the second their gaze locks, her world slows just a bit. Her chest stalls, her breathing hitches in her throat, and… has Harry always looked this good?

“Y/N,” he rasps out lowly. Her eyes flutter down to his neck, where his throat bobs beneath a swallow. Quickly, she blinks, her eyelashes flittering when she looks back up at his face. 

“Hm?” she asks softly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles, inching towards her slowly. 

“Like what?”

He breathes out a quiet laugh. “Like you wanna kiss me.” 

She shrugs and he reaches out, gentle and tentative, his fingertips finding her chin. She allows his touch as he strokes over her skin, careful not to make any sudden movements as if she’ll scare him away somehow.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” he presses, his palm cupping her cheek. His hand is warm and her face is cool, and it feels so, so good.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” she repeats, eager to turn the question around.

He smirks. Lopsided and playful.

“Asked you first.” 

“You’re acting like the kids we��re responsible for,” she murmurs, nuzzling tenderly into his hold. “By the way, did you hear Henry Moore kissed Crystal Baker? The girls are devastated.”

Harry chuckles, low and sweet, before shaking his head. Butterflies swarm her stomach at the crinkles that form at his eyes and she bites her lip.

“Sounds like we’ll have to have a feelings circle tomorrow,” he says. “But right now, you’re the only thing I care about.”

Y/N hums, eyelashes fluttering at his breath ghosts over her lips. She doesn’t know when he got this close, but she also doesn’t know how she existed without having him near all this time. His other hand finds her hip, giving it a small squeeze. The fabric of her tee-shirt bunches in his grip and she resists the need to shudder.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his towering form feeling as though it’s all-encompassing now. She thinks that if it were up to her, she would allow him to lay all his weight on her. 

Her brain is foggy and fizzy now, but she’s conscious enough to nod, a short affirmation, before he ducks forward to connect their lips. His lips are soft and plushy and she’s happy to kiss him back, especially since he tastes like the raspberry popsicle he ate at the bonfire. She shivers when he moves his hands up to the siding of the cabin, caging her in so she’s completely pinned against him. She’s neither particularly submissive nor dominant in the bedroom — a qualified switch is what Zara called her — but she’s eager to have her hands on him, one palm flush against his chest while the other presses against his cheek. The stubble of his facial hair scratches against her skin but she doesn’t care.

The kiss ends far too quickly for her, but when they part, noses nudging against one another, they’re both breathless with swollen lips. It makes Harry chuckle softly and he ducks down once more for a peck.

“Think you’re a bit insatiable,” he mumbles. “Pretty sure you would’ve kept going for hours if I didn’t stop you.”

“Probably.”

He laughs, quiet and soft, at her unashamed response. “That’s fine. Good, actually. I think I could live with that.”

“‘M sure you could.” she replies, a smirk edging at her lips.

“You’re not gonna go running off into the night now, are you?” 

This time, she laughs, shaking her head.

“No. I’ll be here in the morning, bright and early.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Henry Moore feelings circle at 9 am sharp?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

When Harry sends her off to her cabin with a pat on the bum and a kiss to the cheek, she has to bite her lip from grinning too hard.

[finelinefae]

the other woman

synopsis: y/n is the other woman who just wants to be loved

word count: 5.5k

contains: angst, not a super happy ending maybe it is depending how u see it idk, harry is kind of a dick, mentions of medication, mentions of mental health (anxiety, allusions to depression), harry definitely listens to the 1975 in this, smoking, friends with benefits situation, toxic relationship

. . .

"That's the ugliest piece of shit I have ever seen."

"Yeah,"

"I love it."

"You do?"

"I adore it."

"Good."

Harry sat against the headboard of her bed which took up the majority of his tiny bedroom in his even tinier apartment an hour train ride from central London. He was shirtless, his trousers were unbuttoned and his hair was a dishevelled mess. He had a cigarette between his teeth, Y/N hated the way the smoke made the room smell but she would never tell him that.

She sat up against the wall, her legs on top of his. She wore cotton underwear and his shirt, the buttons weren't done up, his gaze switching between his sketchbook and her breasts. Her eyes were fixated on the picture in the center of the white A3 pages.

She didn't know what it was but it was black and white and looked like skin. She wondered whether it was his skin but she wouldn't have called it ugly. She had seen every inch of his skin and the last forty-five minutes was proof of that. Her lips had pressed against the most intimate of places, she would know if it was his skin.

"What is it?" She frowned, tilting it to one side to see if a change in perspective would enhance its features.

"It's an areola," He responded, releasing a sigh, almost as if he was frustrated she didn't know he had taken a picture of a woman's breast.

"A tit?" Her heart began to race as she thought about him taking pictures of her without asking.

He chuckles and puts out his cigarette on her bedside table, leaning forward to throw it out of the window. "It sounds less artistic when you say it." He leans back again and reaches for a strand of her hair to play with. "But yes it is a tit."

'Who's is it?' She wanted to ask 'When did you take it?' 'Is she pretty?' 'Why not me?'

She could feel herself slipping away, wanting to cover herself up the more she questioned him in her own head. She glanced down at her chest briefly.

"It's not you." His words stung more than they should.

"I know that." She pushed the sketchbook away, not wanting to look at the picture of another woman's areolas. "What for?"

"We're doing the human form." He answers,

"Right."

"You're upset."

"I'm fine." She argued but the truth was she was upset and she hated the fact he knew that immediately.

He was good at hiding his emotions, he always had that sense of mystery to him, her not so much. She was sensitive and wore her heart on her sleeve. She was desperate to fall in love and when she did, she felt it to her very core, her chest would ache at the thought of being isolated from human contact. Sometimes she felt he took advantage of that but if she were to admit that, she would have to leave him and she couldn't do that.

She would rather die than be alone, especially if it meant being away from the one person to who she had developed an unhealthy attachment since they had met.

Harry's phone went off and he quickly reached across her to grab it from his side table. She felt like someone was pinching her all over as he bit back a grin at whoever had sent him a text. Suddenly being naked around him felt wrong so she quickly reached for her clothing that had been discarded on the bedroom floor.

"You're leaving?" He asks.

"Who is it?"

"It's nobody." She knew him long enough to know when he was lying.

"How long have you been seeing her?" Y/N wasn't going to cry, she wasn't, she really really wasn't.

Harry rolled his eyes, "You're being dramatic," He always tried to make it seem as if her feelings were too big for the space around them.

"You're a fucking jerk you know that?" She pulled her trousers up her legs and didn't even bother to button them up as she went in search for her shoes. "You show me someone else's tits as soon as we finish having sex? And then you get a text message and don't even tell me who it is?"

"I don't know why you're getting so upset we agreed long ago this was just a temporary thing."

"Oh I know you remind me that every time, I like to remind myself every day I'm just someone to pass the time." Y/N was used to being someone made to be used by someone else. She could be bleeding on the floor in the middle of the street and she wouldn't be surprised if someone took a plastic bottle and started filling it up with her blood in hopes it could save someone else before they even thought about rescuing her.

The problem was, she didn't even try to stop them. People entered her life and took pieces of her and carried them away with them, just to discard them later. Before she even thought about healing herself, someone else would come along and snatch another piece of her away.

That was the problem with people who were afraid of living with no love in their life, they were prepared to do anything for it. Y/N put too much faith in people despite the number of times she had been let down by the people close to her.

Harry was no different to that it seemed.

"What are you talking about? Hey," He grabs her wrist and pulls her into him, his eyes were sharp and for a brief moment, she thought she saw a flicker of emotion in his eye. Her heart pounded at the touch of his fingertips grazing her pulse. "What do you mean? You don't really believe that do you?"

"What does it matter? I know nothing about you Harry."

"You know more about me than anyone else does."

Sometimes it didn't feel like it.

Harry liked to make her feel special. He was good at it. He sent her texts during the day and brushed his hand against hers when they passed in the hallways. They'd come back to his place after a few drinks with friends in the evening, fuck, and be done with it. He'd send her away and act as if what they did didn't matter to him.

It mattered to her though. No one thinks that about a rebound or a person you had casual sex with but it always matters. She had never slept around until she had met him and now she was intoxicated by him because it mattered, right from the very beginning.

She closes her eyes and nods, "Please tell me who it was." She almost pleads with him.

"It's the girl in the picture, she's in my photography class." He admits.

"Do you like her?" Y/N almost whispers, she braces herself for the answer. She had been dreading the day he was planning to end this, she thought she would have more time.

Harry's head falls back like it kills him inside to give an honest answer to her question, "I really like her."

Y/N pushes him back and finally cries in front of him, "Go to Hell."

"Y/N-" He tries.

"No," She moves away from him quickly and reaches for the door, "And for what it's worth I lied, that is the ugliest piece of shit I've ever seen and I hate it. It's ugly and you are an awful photographer."

She was glad she got that out as she slammed the door behind her on the way out.

An hour later she called him.

"Harry, I'm sorry," She whimpers and sobs into the phone. It was an ugly, heart wrenching sob as she cried to him on the phone, "I didn't mean to upset you. I don't think it's ugly at all. I'm sorry,"

"Hey love, it's okay, it's okay," He comforted her.

"I didn't mean it Harry please forgive me I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. Please, please, please, please." She said the words over and over again. Pleading for something that seemed like more than forgiveness.

"Y/N I forgive you, I promise. Please go to sleep." He asks her, he was worried for her but she had done this often enough he knew it wasn't anything serious.

"Promise?" She cries, sniffling.

"I promise,"

"Okay, I'm sorry Harry."

"I forgive you."

The call ended and Y/N lay back staring at the ceiling, her eyes burning from all the crying she had done since she got home from being with Harry. She turned over and took half a miligram of xanax and a sleeping pill, despite her doctor telling her not to, and fell asleep.

"Who was that?" Harry turned to look at the girl in the photo who was now lying on his bed. Her hair was flipped to one side, exposing her entire neck and collarbones.

"Nobody." He forced a smile on his face and walked over to her with his camera, the sounds of Y/N's pleading echoing in his head for the remainder of the night.

--

The next day, Y/N walked into the art room for her first class of the day. She took out her portfolio and sat at her table where she had been working on her next project. It was a painting she had been working on for the past few days and she wasn't near to being finished just yet.

Her eyes were swollen and red from having spent the majority of yesterday crying her eyes out. She skipped her therapy appointment and turned her phone off as she thought about how lonely she really was and how she had no one but herself to blame for putting herself in that situation.

Harry was also in this class but he hadn't turned up yet. The thought of him made her stomach twist. Picturing his smile as he told her about the girl he had been seeing, 'I really like her.' echoed in her head and she wondered what it would be like for him to say that about her.

"How's it going?" Ollie, a good friend of Y/N's, sat down at the easel and stool next to her and placed his backpack on the ground at his feet. He pulled out his pens and watercolor paints as he set up his station to paint.

"Fine." She muttered, reaching for her headphones in her pocket and putting one in her left ear.

"That doesn't sound good." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'm fine Ollie." She repeated, a little more hostile this time.

"Did you go to Harry's place yesterday? I tried to call you but it went straight to answerphone."

"What makes you think that?" She looked at him, tilting her head in curiosity.

"You have this look in your eye." He seems as if he doesn't want to go on but she waits for him to carry on speaking, "I don't know how to describe it... It's like someone's put light in your chest just to then suck the life out of you." He motions towards her painting, "Kind of like that."

She looked at her painting and stared at it. A woman sat in an empty room, a stream of light hitting her face from the window. Outside were people celebrating amongst vines and trees and flowers. The painting was a mixture of beiges and browns and green but the woman's eyes were black and lifeless... they were the saddest pair of eyes she had ever seen.

--

"Fuck," Harry groaned and fell on top of her, sweat beading his forehead as he left her and fell to her side. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind was blank and her chest was heavy.

Harry reached across her for his phone, "Shit." He muttered, shifting to the end of the bed and jumping to his feet.

"What?" Y/N asked, sitting up, the blanket falling to her waist.

"I didn't know what time it was, I'm late for my class." He pulled up his trousers and ran his fingers through his hair as he went in search for a shirt to wear on his bedroom floor.

"Hmm." She sighed and fell back, reaching for one of his cigarettes and fiddling with it between her fingers.

"Are you going to smoke that?" He nodded towards the cigarette.

"Would you like me more if I did?" She replied.

He frowned, "I'd like you just the same."

She stared at him, he was so pretty. He had just gotten out of bed and his hair was a mess, his shirt had a stain on and his trousers were undone but he was so beautiful. She wondered if he ever thought that about her, whether she was beautiful despite the ugliness and mess.

Y/N reached for a lighter, lit the end of the cigarette, and inhaled the smoke.

She didn't seem to mind the way it made the room smell this time because it was a reminder that he had actually been there in her presence even just for a brief few minutes. She stared at the empty room where he once stood.

--

Y/N remembered when she first saw them together. It was a Friday night and all the art students spent Friday night at a bar in Camden Town. Y/N and Harry weren't in the same friendship circle but they had friends that knew friends and that was really how they met.

She sat with Ollie on a couch as everyone else played pool. She had taken three shots of vodka and was on her first drink of the night. The door opened and they both walked in hand in hand. The girl was stunning, her legs were long and thin, her hair was thick and wavy, her eyes were innocent and shone underneath the lights of the bar and her hand was intertwined with Harry's.

They caught eyes for a brief second before Harry turned away from her and went over to the bar to order them a drink. Ollie was talking about something she wasn't paying much attention to as her eyes stayed fixated on them.

She noticed the way his hand pressed against her back at the bottom of her spine and how he brushed her hair behind her ear as they leaned against the bar waiting for their drinks. How she smiled as he whispered something to her and bit her lip as he traced the back of her hand with the tip of his finger.

Y/N realised the Harry standing in front of her was someone she had never met before. It was strange how we never really know the people we meet as they choose to present themselves as someone else depending on who they are with. It's only when you're with your person that you can truly be your authentic self. She wondered which version of himself was real. She even wondered which version of herself was real, who she was with him or who she was without.

"I'm going to go over there." Y/N slurred, moving off the couch but falling back again as the room began to spin.

"Oh no you don't." Ollie pulled her back. "I'm not going to let you embarrass yourself like that."

"Why would I be embarrassed?" He looked at her like she was supposed to understand what he was hinting to.

"You'll forgive me in the morning." He said like he had done her some kind of favour.

She did.

--

"When are you going to take pictures of me for your class?" She wondered, playing with the ends of her hair on his bed as Harry fiddled with the strings of his guitar.

"You want me to do that?" He asked.

"Why not? I think it would be fun." She thought for a moment, "What would you choose to take pictures of?"

Harry pondered on the idea, thinking really hard to come up with an answer to her question. She bit her lip to hold back a smile. She liked the idea of him scanning his memories for parts of her body he had seen. It made her happy knowing that pieces of her were ingrained into his mind like lyrics to a song or the colours of the rainbow.

"Your eyes." He answered after a while.

She frowned, not expecting the answer, "What?"

"Your eyes." He repeated.

"That's it?" Her eyes were the only part of her he thought worth photographing?

"Yeah."

"That's boring." She muttered, falling back against the mattress.

"What makes you say that?"

"You took a picture of that girls boob and you've probably taken a lot more pictures since you like her so much." He cringed and set his guitar down to look at her properly. Harry knew he had to be careful with what he was saying, he could tell by the tone of her voice she was getting upset.

"Those were the only pictures I took." He argued, "And besides, I like your eyes."

"You never look into them." She retorts.

"Of course I do."

"You don't."

A beat of silence rested between them until Harry spoke again, "Maybe when you're not looking."

"Why would you look at my eyes when I'm not looking?" She wasn't understanding anything he was saying.

"Because I love watching you watch the world." He replied. "If I don't know how I feel about something I look at your eyes and everything makes sense. Sometimes it feels as though I'm understanding the world through you."

Her face softened, her heart settled in her chest. She felt warmth spread through her like she had just received a warm hug. The corners of her lips tugged upwards and she crawled over to kiss his cheek. "That was possibly the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." She confessed, her heart expanding.

"Then you need to be surrounded by better people." He reached for his guitar. "Come sit here." He patted his thigh and she rolled off the bed to sit exactly where he asked.

He began to play a song on his guitar, gently singing the lyrics in a low voice. She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck.

It was one of those moments she wanted to freeze and stay in forever. Nothing else existed outside of this bubble. Her heart was happy.

--

Ollie's birthday was January 23rd and he was having a house party at his flat.

"How many people are coming?" Y/N asked as she applied mascara in front of his bathroom mirror. She was crouched down inside the sink so she could get as close as possible to the mirror.

"I don't know, I invited about twenty and said they could spread the word to whoever was available." OIlie applied aftershave as he spoke.

"So everyone?"

"Possibly."

Y/N was excited to see Harry. Although they didn't speak much outside of the confinements of his bedroom, she was still looking forward to being in his presence. Ever since their intimate moment, they shared a few days ago, she had been longing for him. Her heart sighed in bliss at the thought of being near him again.

She wanted to wear something extra special that she thought he would like. Her hair was curled, which she never normally did, she wore black, leather trousers and a black corset to go with it and black heels to make her slightly taller than she really was. She accessorised with gold jewellery and had done her makeup in a much more simple manner.

"You look like that girl." Ollie spoke as soon as she walked into his kitchen.

"What girl?" She blushed.

"The one Harry was with at the bar the other night. I mean, the outfit is hot but you never wear your makeup and hair like that."

"Geez would it kill you to just say I look 'good'?" She mumbled, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. She never normally wore her hair down as it irritated her.

Ollie's face softened, she hated the sympathy on his face, "You look fucking hot." He said, pulling her in for a hug, "Don't let anyone change that." He whispered.

People began to arrive around 10pm. Ollie's apartment filled up rather quickly and Y/N was already on her third drink of the night. She was stood talking to a few of her friends from one of her textile classes until her eyes caught sight of the curly-headed boy she had been waiting for.

She smiled, excusing herself from the conversation and shifting through the crowd to get to him. "Harry hey," She beamed but then immediately felt her happiness slip from her.

"Hey Y/N," His eyes were wide at the sight of her, he was so used to seeing her in her natural form.

Y/N didn't reply as her focus was fixated on the girl talking to some other people. The girl he had bought with her. The girl in the photo. "Are you okay?" Harry asked when she didn't say anything.

"I'm fine." She forced a smile on her face.

"We're not staying long. I just thought I'd stop by to see Ollie." Her heart deflated at the use of 'we', they were a 'we' now.

"Right, I'm sure he'll appreciate it." She nodded, reaching for another drink.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He checked with her.

"I'm fine. I just need to use the bathroom." Y/N pushed past him and made her way to Ollie's bathroom which was surprisingly empty.

"Are you okay?" Someone asked her from behind as she was about to step into the bathroom.

She turned around and came face to face with the girl from the photo. She looked even more beautiful up close if that were even possible.

"I'm fine." Y/N muttered, it seemed as though that was the only response she was giving anyone nowadays.

"Harry sent me to come and see if you were okay." She said, even her voice was soft and gentle, "He was worried about you."

Y/N scoffed, "What he couldn't come find me himself?"

"He was trying to find Ollie I think-" The girl sighed, "If you're okay, I'll go back and tell him."

"Before you go...Can I ask you something?" Y/N could hear the voice in her head screaming at her not to say anything but she had to know, she needed to know.

"Go ahead." The girl seemed irritated by Y/N, like she was wasting her time.

"Do you know who I am?" Y/N could feel her eyes burn as she asked the question.

The girl from the photo frowned, confused by her question, "What?"

"Do you know who I am?" Y/N repeated but this time more sternly.

The girl from the photo looked at her, really looked at her, narrowing her eyes as if to get a better look. "I have no idea."

Y/N's insides felt as though they were bleeding. It was almost like Harry was the only one who was keeping her stitched together but now everything inside of her had come loose from that one reply.

The girl from the photo hesitated before saying, "I'll go and tell my boyfriend you're okay."

Y/N looked at her as she walked away, completely crushed. She walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her, falling onto her knees and sobbing into her hands.

She hadn't realised how much power he had over her until this moment. How much she relied on him and how she couldn't picture her life without him. She trusted him too easily and that was nobody's fault but her own.

Her breathing began to pick up and she felt a strange sensation like pins and needles trickle along her skin. She pulled off her trousers and her corset until she was in nothing but her bra and underwear. She crawled into the bathtub and turned on the shower so cold water could reach her skin, all whilst hyperventilating and crying her eyes out.

This was unlike any pain she had ever felt. She wasn't sure why it had hurt so much but maybe it was because another person had used her, maybe this time it was because she gave every inch of herself to him and she had nothing but skin and bones left.

"Y/N are you in there?" His voice was muffled from behind the door.

"G-Go away." She whispered, rocking backward and forwards with her head tucked into her knees and cold water wetting her skin.

"I'm worried about you, love." His voice sounded so sad.

"Go away." She carried on chanting like this was a nightmare she wanted to wake up from.

She felt soft hands touching her shoulders and immediately looked up into green, sad eyes. For once Harry was easy to read as his eyes showed nothing but remorse.

He reached past her and turned the shower off, she was shivering and he reached for a towel to wrap around her shoulders in hopes it would provide some warmth.

They said nothing, Y/N didn't get out of the bath as it helped in providing a separation between them. "Why don't you love me like I love you?" She whispered. Her eyes looking into his, they were red and her face was stained with tears.

There was no point in denying things anymore, he was one of the only people who knew she was too clever for that, "I don't know," His head fell forward, he felt defeated.

"Why did you put me here?" She cried, "Why did you put me here if you were just going to leave me?"

"I-I thought you understood what this was. I thought-" He lied.

Harry knew Y/N better than anyone in her life. He knew better than to hurt her like this.

"Why does everyone leave me?" She whimpered, "Why can't I be loved?"

"Y/N-"

"Please tell me you love me. Please, please, please," She was begging him, crying into his shoulder.

"I-I can't Y/N." Never had her name sounded so disgusting coming from his lips.

"I don't know what to do anymore Harry. I-I would rather die than be alone," She sobbed.

"Y/N you're never alone."

"You're ending this." She cried, "I'm alone."

He couldn't stand having this conversation and not being able to hold her. He stepped into the bathtub fully clothed and sat in front of her, reaching for her hand and holding it gently in his. The feeling of his skin seemed to ease some of the pain she had been feeling, but the loneliness still echoed throughout her.

"I don't know why I can't love you, Y/N, but it doesn't mean I don't feel anything about you. You have become my best friend—"

"I don't want to be your best friend. No, no," she shook her head. "You've killed me once by admitting you don't love me. Please don't send me to Hell by calling me your friend. Do you know how painful that is? I just want to be loved by you. Is that too much to ask? I have given everything, I have given everything to you. I rooted for you in every way possible. I have killed myself trying to get you to love me, and I don't think I even know who I am anymore because of it."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was selfish and a coward and undeserving of her love, and he wished she could see that.

"Y/N—"

"Please just leave."

His eyes watered at the thought of going about his life without her. He could feel the air around them grow thick, his chest rising and falling as he tried to breathe in. He felt like he was drowning at the thought of her leaving his life. Despite not loving her in the way she desired, he realized he would also be alone without her.

Maybe that was it.

All along, they had just been two people dealing with loneliness and coping with it differently. One used the other to fill the gaps in the spaces where they felt most alone, and the other fell hopelessly in love in hopes it would change them. That was the true nature of it, and even if they were meant to be together at some point, now was not the time.

"Listen to me," Harry whispered, collecting her hands and holding them to his chest. "I'm going to leave."

She choked on a sob.

"I don't want to do that." She shook her head. "I just want to be with you." The thought of the loneliness seeped into her pores, and she didn't think it would be possible for her to stay afloat as she drowned in it.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said softly, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I-I don't know what I'm doing."

She was taken aback by his tears and was unsure of what to do. It was the first time she had seen him cry, the first time she realized he was equally as afraid as she was. She leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug, allowing him to cry into her shoulder.

This was the end.

"I love you, Harry. I really do," she whispered into his ear.

He couldn't reply, so he just sobbed even harder.

--

The days hadn't changed so much when Harry stepped out of Y/N's life.

They didn't talk much during the day when they were friends so Y/N went about carrying on her classes and speaking to Ollie who she appreciated more than ever as he comforted her when she was feeling at her worst. It was Ollie who made the days feel... a little less lonely.

She missed his touches and texting him on her phone but she tried to come up with ways to cope with that by watching youtube videos or drawing so she wasn't tempted to unblock him and forgive him again.

The nights were the hardest. Y/N hadn't realised that the only reason she'd been sleeping was because of Harry. She had tried to not take sleeping pills to help her get to sleep but sometimes she'd spend the entire night just painting in hopes it would made her tired.

Since they had some of the same friends now, Y/N knew of Harry's ventures through word of mouth. He had broke things off with the girl from the photo the day after Ollie's birthday party. Turns out they weren't really in an established relationship and the girl did know who Y/N was because Harry never stopped talking about Y/N when they were together.

That made her smile.

He was an assistant to a wedding photographer on the weekends so that he could save up some money for his own studio. She was happy to hear he was actually making the most of his talent instead of wasting it like she had considered doing multiple times.

Other than that, the days went by rather slowly and nothing out of the ordinary happened. She had been on dates here and there and was in her first real relationship in her third year of University but that only lasted a few months. Turns out he was cheating on her the entire time they were together which felt like one step forwards and two steps back.

Y/N moved into an apartment in central London after she graduated and did some freelancing as an illustrator whilst working weekends at a hotel and the evenings at a bar in Soho.

Her life was mundane but she was okay with that. She had spent so much time focusing on others that she forgot to focus on herself. She had started going to therapy, the gym, and even became vegetarian for a little while. She was no longer taking Xanax as often as she used to and spent less time thinking about Harry.

She wondered what he was up to from time to time but in the end, she just hoped he wasn't alone.

[x0xomady]

whole lotta love

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

summary: you go to the studio with harry and he needs to take out his pent up exhaustion on something.

(rockstar!harrystyles x fem!reader)

warnings: this is straight up smut. 18+. degrading names, dumbification (kinda), lots n lots of sex. p in v, oral fem and male receiving

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

sitting in the studio with harry is one of my favorite things. watching him move through the different recording booths, pick up different guitars, and sing was always entertaining.

harry was a living storm, a whirlwind of guitars, microphones, and infectious energy. he moved effortlessly from one booth to the next, each instrument under his fingers like an extension of himself. his voice reverberated through the studio, filling every corner with a soulful, raw power that left me breathless.

every time he took a new microphone in hand, his features took on a different air, a different persona. his eyes would light with life as he played with the various settings and effects, experimenting with his voice to produce sounds i’ve never heard before.

i’ve always loved harrys strong voice. however, nothing is better than watching him play guitar.

there was something mesmerizing about watching him play. his fingers moved like lightning across the strings, plucking out complex riffs and solos effortlessly. the way he gripped the guitar, his entire body moving in sync with the music, was like watching a piece of art come to life.

i couldn’t help the way my eyes wandered down to his tattoo and ring adorned hands.

as harry continued to play, his green eyes met mine, and i felt a jolt of electricity run through me. he gave me a small smile, and i felt my heart race in response. i couldn't take my eyes off him, the way he moved, the way he played, it was all so captivating.

harry puts down his guitar and walks out of the booth to the couch where i’m sitting. “hows it sounding, baby?"

he asks, his voice smooth and confident. i can't help but smile at his endearing nickname for me. "it sounds amazing. i liked that last guitar solo a lot," i reply, with a smile as i look up at him.

harry's smile widens, and he takes a seat next to me on the couch. "i'm glad you think so," he says, his green eyes sparkling with pride. we sit there, listening to the playback of his latest recording.

as harry settled in beside me, his thigh brushing against mine, i felt a flutter in my chest. he reached out to grab the remote control, his fingers grazing my knee, and i couldn't help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. he talks to the other artists and producers in the studio as they edit and playback his recordings.

harry pulls out a cigarette and leans back against the couch, resting his hand on my thigh while talking to the producers. the smoke from his cigarette swirls around us, creating a hazy, intimate atmosphere. as we listen to the playback of his latest recording, i can't help but glance down at harry’s ring clad fingers. my stomach tightens slightly as i look down at his firm grip on my thigh.

being harry styles girlfriend is hard because theres never enough time. when harry isn’t on tour playing his music for his fans, he’s in the studio writing. that’s why i always go to the studio with him. we hold onto any time we have that we can spend together, even if that means sitting on the couch listening to him play for hours.

as harry's fingers drummed a gentle rhythm on my thigh, i felt his gaze shift from the producers to me, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

he took a slow drag on his cigarette, the smoke curling around us like a veil, and i could sense the weight of his exhaustion, the toll of constant creativity and performance. his hand on my thigh tightened, a subtle squeeze that told me ‘i need to fuck out my frustrations'

i smiled and rolled my eyes as harry teasingly dragged his palm across my inner thigh. his eyes never left mine, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear.

"you know you want to," he whispered, his voice low and husky. i couldn't help but smile and shake my head at his actions. harry was never shy with pda, even when his best friends and writing team were all sitting 6 feet away from us.

harry chuckled softly, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned in closer. "you know i can't resist you, love," he murmured, his hand sliding back onto my thigh, fingers tracing circles against the fabric of my jeans. i couldn't help but smile, my heart fluttering at his words.

"harry, there are four other people in here," i whispered, my voice barely audible over the music playing in the background. "hands to yourself." i playfully pushed his hand away, my fingers lingering on his for a moment before i pulled away. harry's eyes sparkled with mischief as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch, play playing on his lips.

as harry leaned back against the couch, his eyes never left mine. he took another slow drag on his cigarette, i could sense the tension in his body, the pent-up frustrations and overstimulation from the day waiting to be released.

"alright, i think that's enough for today," he says to the producers, his voice low and husky.

while the producers packed up their gear, harry's gaze remained fixed on me, giving me a look that made my stomach tighten. he waited quietly, nodding to the team as they left the room. until, everyone was gone, leaving us alone in the suddenly silent studio.

as soon as the door closed behind the last producer, harry was on me like a flash. his hands grabbed my face, pulling my lips against his in a passionate kiss. i could taste the smoke from his cigarette on his lips, the familiar scent of his cologne filling my senses.

his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. i wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as i kissed him back, my heart pounding in my chest.

harry's hands moved down my body, tracing the curves of my hips as he pulled me closer.

as harry's hands continued to explore my body, i couldn't help but sigh, "fuck harry." our clothes quickly fell to a pile on the floor, and harry's lips found my neck, leaving a trail of sweet but rough kisses. his touch was urgent and passionate, a release of the pent-up energy that had been building up all day.

harry's lips trailed down my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. i could feel his breath against my skin, his fingers digging into my hips as he held me close. "gonna have a quick taste, baby," he mumbled against my skin, his voice low and husky.

his lips found my nipple, and he sucked it into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. i gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, pressing myself closer to him. harry's other hand moved down my body, his fingers slipping between my legs.

"already wet for me?" he asks, his voice low and husky. i can only nod, my breath coming out in short gasps as harry's fingers continue to trace along my center.

harry's lips find mine again, his tongue slipping into my mouth as he deepens the kiss. i can feel his erection pressing against my thigh, and i can't help but moan against his mouth. harry's fingers continue to move inside me, his thumb rubbing against my clit in slow, deliberate circles.

harry's grin widens as he pushes his middle finger past my tight entrance. "so fucking slutty for me, isn't that right baby?" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. i gasp as the cold rings sitting at his knuckles graze my entrance.

“i barely have to touch you and you’re a sopping wet mess.” harry’s thumb continues to rub against my clit in slow, deliberate circles, his fingers moving within me. i whimper as harry teases me, his fingers never stopping.

harry's eyes lock onto mine as he pulls away from me, his lips curving into a smirk. he slides down my body, his fingers trailing along my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. i can feel my heart pounding in my chest as he settles between my thighs, his breath hot against my skin.

he leans in, his lips brushing against my inner thigh, leaving a trail of soft kisses. i can feel his fingers digging into my hips, holding me in place as he presses a sweet kiss to my bundle of nerves.

"please harry-" i groan as harry sucks my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it in rapid, gentle strokes. my hips buck up against his face, seeking more friction, as he hums a low, vibrating note that resonates against me. his fingers, still buried inside me, curl upward, stroking my spot while he looks up at me innocently.

as harry continues to nurse on my core, my hands tangle in his curls, pulling him closer. his tongue flicks against my clit in rapid, gentle strokes, causing my hips to buck up against his face. i can feel the tension building inside me, my breath coming out in short gasps. harry's fingers continue to move inside me, curling upward to stroke my spot.

his eyes lock onto mine, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches me unravel beneath him. i can feel my orgasm building, my body trembling with anticipation. harry's tongue continues to move against my button, while his fingers move faster inside me.

"come for me baby. then i'm gonna make you come again on my cock." he grins and kisses my clit, his lips brushing against my sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

his thick fingers continue to move inside me, curling upward to stroke my spot, as his tongue flicks against my clit. i can feel my orgasm building, my body trembling with anticipation, and i know i'm on the edge, ready to fall apart beneath him.

as i teetered on the edge, harry's fingers curled upward, stroking my spot with precision, and his tongue danced against my clit. my stomach tightened, my hips bucking up against his face as i let out a soft, moan, and harry's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with intensity as he watched me unravel beneath him.

with the combined sensations of his tongue and fingers against me, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. a grin spread across his face as he lapped up my release. his tongue licking up the creamy mess that dripped from my entrance.

as harry's tongue lapped up the last drops of my release, he slowly kissed his way up my body, his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. he paused at my nipples, teasing them with gentle nips and licks, sending shivers down my spine.

his dark lust filled eyes met mine as he finally reached my lips, pushing his against mine in a sloppy kiss that left me breathless.

as harry's lips moved against mine, i could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. "please fuck me, harry," i whimpered, my voice breathless and desperate. despite being overstimulated and exhausted, i needed to feel him in me. harry's grin widened as he pulled away from me, his dark eyes filled with desire.

he positioned himself between my legs, his length pressing against my entrance, as he looked down at me with a wicked grin. "you sure you can handle it, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

harry's lips curled into a smirk as he kissed across my collarbones, his fingers tracing the curves of my body. "i don't know if these sweet little cunt can handle it," he teased, his voice low and husky.

harrys fingers gripped my hips as he pressed the tip of his cock against my clit. i gasped, my hips bucking up against him as he continued to tease me, his dark eyes filled with desire.

"quit teasing," i whine, my voice laced with desperation, and push my hips up against his, seeking friction against his length.

harry's smirk widens as he holds his position, the tip dragging across my entrance. his fingers dig deeper into my hips, his grip tightening as he slowly begins to circle his cock around my entrance.

harry's eyes twinkled with mischief as he smirked down at me, his thick tip just past the tight entrance of my cunt. "yeah? is that what my girl wants? you want me to fuck you?" he teased, his voice low and husky. i nodded, my hips bucking up against him.

"you were such a good girl sitting in the studio all day patiently... guess i gotta give you what you want," he said. with a swift thrust, harry buried himself inside me, his cock filling me up completely.

as harry's cock filled me up completely, i felt my inner walls stretch to accommodate his thick length, and a low moan escaped my lips. his green eyes locked onto mine, burning with intensity as he paused for a moment, allowing me to adjust to his size. then, with a slow, careful movement, he began to withdraw, his cock dragging against my sensitive walls.

harry's cock dragged throughout my core, my muscles fluttering around him. he paused for a moment, his eyes locked onto mine, before slowly thrusting back in, his length filling me up completely once again. with each deliberate stroke, he built a rhythm that had my hips moving in sync with his.

“shit- i love you so much.” harry groans and pushes his forehead against my shoulder while he thrust into me.

my eyes squeeze shut as harry quickens his pace. his thick cock moved deeply, my tight walls squeezing him. i whimper when i feel the harsh ridges and veins of his length move within me.

“i love you too, h” my hands hold onto harry’s shoulders as he quickly thrusts into me.

harry moans against my neck and continues snapping his hips against mine. his hands grip my hips tightly before flipping me over so i’m laying on my stomach. i squeal in surprise when he does this, which makes him chuckle and kiss my cheek.

“so fucking gorgeous…” he mumbles against my skin while grabbing my hips. without warning harry thrusts back in, in one quick movement.

harry snakes a hand down my body to my core. his fingers quickly find my clit, as he begins rubbing tight circles over it. my stomach tightens and i press my hips back against him, fucking back to meet his thrusts.

“that’s it baby. fuck- i can’t even last around you.” he squeezes his eyes shut and picks up his pace.

harry's thrusts become more erratic as he continues to pump into me, his fingers still working my clit. i can feel my orgasm building, my muscles tensing as i move my hips back against him.

“harry, i'm gonna come," i gasp, my voice barely above a whisper. harry's thrusts become more urgent, his fingers pressing harder against my clit as he chases his own release.

“good girl. come one more time for me baby.” he bites my shoulder to muffle his moans.

as i tremble on the edge of release, harry's fingers dance across my clit with increased force, his cock pounding into me with reckless abandon. my body begins to shudder, my walls clamping down around him, a low, whine escapes my lips as my second orgasm crashes over me. harry's grip on my hips tightens, his own release mere seconds behind mine.

"god- you're milking me, love" he groans as his thrusts become sloppy, his cock still twitching inside me as he releases paints his seed across my walls. i feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, his chest heaving against my back as he tries to catch his breath.

after a few moments of catching his breath, harry gently pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty. he sits on the couch next to where i’m laying, his chest still heaving as he tries to regain his breath. i turn over to face him, my eyes meeting his. he gives me a lazy smile, his eyes still filled with desire.

“i’m fucking crazy for you," he murmurs. he grins and rolls his eyes playfully. "i don't think i'll ever get enough of you."

he leans in, his lips finding mine in a passionate kiss. i can taste myself on his lips, the lingering sweetness of our shared pleasure.

as we kiss, i can feel harry's cock twitching against my thigh, already growing hard again. i smirk against his lips, my hand sliding down to wrap around his length. he groans into my mouth as i begin to stroke him, his hips bucking up to meet my touch.

"fuck, you're insatiable," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

i giggle and slide down to the floor of the studio, my knees hitting the ground as i sit in between harry's legs. i look up at him, my eyes filled with mischief as i take his cock in my hand, my fingers wrapping around his growing length.

harry groans, his head falling back against the couch as i begin to stroke him, my hand moving up and down his shaft with practiced ease. i can feel him growing harder in my hand, his cock twitching with each stroke.

i lean forward, my tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum.

harry's hips buck up as i take him fully into my mouth, my lips sliding down his length as i begin to suck. he groans, his hands tangling in my hair as i work my mouth up and down his cock, my tongue massaging his shaft. i can feel him growing harder in my mouth, his cock twitching as i continue to suck him off.

i moan around his length, my hand moving to cup his balls as i continue to work my mouth up and down his cock. harry's hips buck up, his cock hitting the back of my throat as he begins to thrust into my mouth.

harry's thrusts become more urgent, his cock hitting the back of my throat as he fucks my mouth. i can feel his balls tightening in my hand, his cock twitching as he gets closer to his release. i moan around his length, my own arousal building as i feel him growing harder in my mouth.

harry's cock pulses in my mouth, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he chases his release. i can feel his balls tightening in my hand, his cock twitching as he gets closer to the edge. my tongue dances around his shaft, massaging him with every stroke, and his moans grow louder, more urgent, as he loses control.

"good girl-" he groans and tightens the grip in my hair making me whimper around his length. "just needed my cock in your mouth, isn't that right baby?" his words are laced with a mix of desire and possessiveness, as i continue to suck him off.

i moan in response, the vibrations from my mouth causing his cock to twitch even more, and he lets out a low, groan, his hips bucking up to meet my lips.

with a final, desperate thrust, harry's cock surges forward, releasing a hot, salty stream of cum that floods my mouth. i swallow greedily, my throat working to take in every last drop as harry's body shudders above me, his fingers still tangled in my hair.

“swallow all of it.” he looks down at me with a dark, but loving, gaze.

i grin and collect the cum that dripped out of my lips with my finger tips. my mouth wraps around my fingers as i clean them off, drinking in his salty release. “swallowed all of it.” i smile and look up at him.

harry's body relaxes, his grip on my hair loosening as he pulls me up to kiss him. our lips meet in a passionate, lingering kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as he tastes himself on my lips. he pulls back, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at me. "you're amazing," he murmurs, his voice thick.

i smile up at him, my heart swelling with love and desire. i whisper, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "i love you, harry."

as we are whispering things to each other and sharing sweet kisses, a knock on the door interrupts us, the sound of mitch’s voice following.

“are you guys done fucking yet?” his bored voice coming from the other side of the door makes harry smirk and roll his eyes.

“yeah yeah give us a minute.” he grins and gives me a kiss before leaning in and whispering back to me. “i love you more.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

wow that got wayyyy too horny at the end. if you read all that- i’m so sorry 😭

-xoxo

[stylesharrys]

Harry gets a little jealous at a party. (Blurb)

Warnings: smut ahead — kissing, teasing, swearing, dom/sub dynamic, unprotected sex.

//

With hands clenched into fists at the side of his body, Harry decides he's had enough. For the past hour he's had no choice but to watch you converse with friends and keep his distance. 

He's had to bite his tongue while you flirt away with Niall, because it was his idea to keep your little rendlevouz a secret. 

You've been side-eyeing him since Niall approached you twenty minutes ago, twirling strands of hair around your fingers and giggling a little too loudly at something Niall said. Something Harry knows wasn't actually that funny. 

But it's when you start trailing your fingers gently up Niall's arm that Harry snaps and finds himself stalking toward you.

He's angry, pissed, horny. You can tell. His cheeks are flushed and he's bitten his bottom lip raw. Jesus Christ, he's a sight. And you can't wait to be on the brunt end of his frustrations. 

Harry doesn't acknowledge Niall as he approaches. He keeps his eyes on yours and snatches your hand away from your friend. 

"Need to borrow you for a minute." He keeps his voice low, his grip on your wrist tight. 

Harry gives you no time to reply or say goodbye to Niall. He's pulling you away and through the crowd, into an empty bathroom on the far side of Mitch's apartment. 

You're slammed against the door as soon as it closes, Harry's lips feverish and hot on yours. Fingers tangled in his hair, you kiss him back with just as much vigour. It's messy -- all teeth and tongue but you don't care. 

Harry's groping your ass under your dress, kneading handfuls at a time. "You think you're so fucking clever, don't you." 

You moan into his mouth. Pissed off Harry has always turned you on. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," you breathe, feigning innocence.

Harry chuckles darkly into your mouth. "No? You weren't just feeling up our friends arm to piss me off?" 

He pulls away from you, looking intently into your eyes now. You shake your head, eyes doe like a dumb puppy. 

Harry thumbs at your lips. "You know better than to lie to me, Princess."

Your knees almost buckle -- eyes fluttering closed. God, you could come just listening to him belittle you. 

"How about I get Niall to come in here, hmm? Let him watch what happens when my bad girl misbehaves? Let him watch me drown your throat with my come?" 

"Harry," you whine. 

You're the desperate one now, soaking wet and begging to be touched. Your body chases his every time he moves from you, his touch the only thing that could quench your desire. 

You reach your hands for him, but Harry's quick to grab your wrists and spin you around, chest pressing against the bathroom door. 

"You don't get to touch me. You'll take whatever I give you." 

Harry hikes your dress up; lets it sit just above your ass and he's toying at the little red thong you're wearing underneath. 

Excitement and anticipation gets the better of you, your hips absentmindedly bucking back into his crotch. He smacks his hand down on your left cheek, fingernails denting half-moons on the tender skin.

"What did I fucking say?" he seethes. "You'll take what you're fucking given." 

No warning is given before Harry tugs your thong to the side and urges himself in your little hole. You didn’t notice him even undo his pants — too caught up in your own head.

It stings but only for a moment. The pain is immediately replaced with hungry pleasure as Harry begins to fuck in and out of you at a maniacal pace.

His hands are everywhere. Your hips, your ass, your tits, pulling your hair.

He’s fuming and hot and can’t get enough. He’s always secretly loved it when you misbehave. The excitement of sneaking off and him punishing you.

It’s the main reason why he doesn’t want to tell people you’re dating. He enjoys this secrecy way too much. And if you’re honest, so do you.

He stretches you out deliciously, sloppy sounds muffled by the blaring music outside the hall.

Your head knocks against the bathroom door with every pound he gives. Your hands try to steady yourself the best they can, but the force between Harry’s blows is too powerful.

He’s a panting mess behind you, hair tussled and you don’t need to turn around to know how focused he is on your cunt.

Watching himself disappear in your hole as he abuses you. God, you fucking love it. The way he both worships and neglects your body.

Sex has never been this amazing before Harry. And feeling him inside you, thick and raw. You can feel yourself spiralling. Feel the familiar knot tying in your lower stomach.

You know he’s close too. His breathing is erratic and his cock twitches within your walls.

Your moans have grown louder, daring to seep beneath the crack of the door and scream to every single person here that Harry fucking Styles is about to make you explode.

And it’s like he knows it. The way you clench around him, the way your knees lock and you quickly become silent with a slack jaw.

Harry knows your body more than you realise. And he knows you’re about fifteen seconds away from creaming all over him.

And he knows even better that you won’t warn him.

Harry pulls out abruptly as his orgasm hits, painting pretty ribbons of white arousal across your ass with a profound grunt.

You’re whining, shaking. God, you was so fucking close.

“Thought I told you to take what you’re given. Did you think I wouldn’t feel you about to come all over me?”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Cheeks flushed and body quivering, you don’t have the strength to bite back.

He tugs down your dress. Arousal still painted across your cheeks and your thong out of place, he doesn’t give a fuck.

Harry grabs a fist full of your hair and with your back to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear.

“Now get your purse and say goodbye to your friends. We're going home so I can punish you for being a little brat again.”

//

Send in blurb requests!

Tags: @kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @babyyhoneyyy @theresnooneheretosave @ellaorchard @itsmytimetoodream @daphnesutton

[lemoncrushh]

Her Album

Summary: Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it.

Warnings: Angst, lots of feelings

Word Count: 2.9k+

A/N: A short one-shot written in 2019 in first person from Harry's POV. While this is not necessarily a reader fic, the woman's name is never mentioned. This was written before Fine Line was out, so it's pretty wild to think about it now.

The album was done. I’d made a visit to the studio to hear the final mix and then had lunch with Jeffrey and Glenne. As I drove home, I listened to the songs again in the car, deciding not to stop at my house when I got there, but instead to keep going so I could give one last listen straight through.

I’m not sure how I ended up on her street. It used to be automatic, like taking my shoes off before my trousers, or putting the cap back on the toothpaste. I’d driven down her block so many times before, I probably knew it better than my own neighbourhood.

I sat in the car for a long time, staring up at her window. I wasn’t even sure if she was home. I couldn’t tell if a light was on, but it was the middle of the day and that window was her bedroom, so she could’ve been anywhere else inside. I let the album loop around to the first track again, the opening chords hitting me in the chest just like the first time I’d heard them.

I wanted her to hear them too. I wanted her to listen to the melodies and have them bring back the memories that had inspired me to write them. I wanted her to listen to my lyrics and know they were all about her, even the ones that weren’t as obvious. Songs about love and loss. Songs about sex and lust and forbidden fruit. Songs that sounded like they were about something completely different, hidden behind loose meanings and innuendos.

But they were all about her.

I scrolled through my phone and opened the contacts to her name. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, maybe even months. I’d lost count. Being in the studio had helped to heal my broken heart, and my pride, but it certainly hadn’t erased her memory. She was with me every single day, every moment that I worked on a song.

I almost tapped on her name, my thumb grazing over it. But I stopped myself, turning off my phone, and then my engine. Climbing out of the car, I walked around it to the pavement in front of her building, once again looking up at her window. For a second I considered being like John Cusack in Say Anything, holding up an 80s boom box and serenading her with my music so she’d notice. But I reckoned that was borderline stalking, not to mention disturbing the neighbours, so I made my way to the stairs and climbed them to the second floor.

I stopped in front of her door, staring at it for a good two to three minutes before I even lifted my hand. I took several breaths, wondering if I was making a mistake. She probably didn’t wanna see me, let alone talk to me. She didn’t give a shit about my album. She had moved on.

But I was there. I felt like something had brought me there for a reason, and that reason was to play her my music. Let her know exactly how I felt about her - how she drove me crazy and how she’d hurt me and how I’d hurt her. How in love with her I’d been. How I still…

Finally, I knocked, a little too softly at first, but I didn’t want to startle her. At least that’s what I told myself. When no one responded, however, I knocked again, much louder and with determination.

“Jesus, I’m coming!” I heard her yell from inside. “Hold your-”

She stood before me with a half-eaten apple in her hand, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She wore a t-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back in a loose bun and no makeup. She looked beautiful.

“Hey,” I said, my voice not quite cooperating so I sounded like a frog.

“Harry.” She said my name in almost a question, though she knew it was me. She just wondered why it was me.

When she didn’t say anything else, I shifted my eyes up and down the hall and shrugged.

“Can I come in?”

I admit, I expected her to nod and step back to let me inside her apartment. But when she shook her head, my face fell.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she remarked.

“Um...why not?”

“Because…” she began, her tone hard as steel, “I just got over you.”

“Over me?” I gulped.

“Yeah. It’s taken me a while, but I finally am,” she explained, placing the apple on the table by the door. Then wiping her hands on her shorts, she leaned against the door frame. “You haven’t shown your face here in nearly three months. I can’t just let you waltz on in here and undo everything.”

“‘m not…” I stumbled, “‘m not undoing anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

Her gorgeous but stern eyes glared at me, piercing through my heart. I looked down at my feet, thinking I’d made a mistake by coming. She didn’t want any more to do with me. I’d waited too long and missed the window. Maybe there hadn’t even been one.

Lifting my head, I looked at her beautiful face again. It was then that I recognized the shirt she was wearing - my old AC/DC t-shirt.

“Looks like you’re not completely over me,” I pointed. I dunno why I said it. It was petty and juvenile.

“What?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

She looked down at the emblem on her chest, seemingly just realizing what she had on. With a sigh, she dropped her arms.

“I just like it,” she said, her head held high. “And you basically gave it to me anyway.”

“No, I didn’t.” Shut up, H, you’re making it worse, I thought to myself.

“Well, you left it here. And I ended up sleeping in it. And you never came back, so…” She crossed her arms again in defense.

She was right. The last time I’d been in her apartment, we’d had a massive fight, and I’d told her it was over and stormed out. She’d tried calling and texting me for a couple days, but I’d ignored her, stubborn with pride. When I’d finally agreed to talk to her again, I was only being a right twat, unable to see or accept her side. So, we only ended up fighting again until she said she needed some space.

“I was giving you your space,” I muttered, knowing damn well I sounded like a wanker.

“For six weeks?” she snorted and shook her head. “You have some nerve, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“What was that?” she stepped closer to me, her brows furrowed. “Did you really just say you’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Sorry for what? For breaking my heart? For being a dickhead? For not calling or texting or even saying one word to me for freaking ever? For telling me it was over in the first place? Or for showing up here now when I’m finally over you?”

I blinked. “All of it,” I admitted.

Her lips twitched, and for a second I thought she was going to smile.

“Fuck you, Harry!” she exclaimed.

Stepping back, she grabbed the door, ready to slam it. But I brought my hand up and stopped it.

“I want you to listen to it,” I said, remembering why I’d come.

“Why should I listen to you?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Not to me. To the album. It’s finished, and I want you to hear it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t be serious. You came here so I’d listen to your new music? You really are a douchebag.”

“No, you don’t understand, I-“

“You’re right, I don’t,” she interrupted. “But seems to me you had weeks to explain yourself, Harry. I’m done crying over you.”

She was about to shut the door again when I called out, “I’ve been crying over you, too!”

She stood still, her hand on the door that was opened only a crack. Leaning her forehead against it, I could tell she was holding back tears. I didn’t want her to cry now, at least not over this.

“Liar,” she croaked.

“It’s not a lie, ba-” I almost called her baby, but I knew she wouldn’t like that. Not yet. “Please. Let me in. You don’t even have to talk. Just listen to the album.”

I stood silent for a moment, watching her eyelashes flutter against her pink cheeks. Finally, she let out a sigh and stepped back, opening the door to allow me to step inside.

“Thanks,” I muttered low as she closed the door behind me.

She didn’t reply. In fact, she didn’t even look at me as she grabbed her half eaten apple and went into the kitchen. I stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for her return.

“Okay,” she gestured toward me as she plopped onto the couch. “Go ahead.”

Spotting her laptop on the coffee table, I pointed. “Do you mind?”

She merely nodded and I sat down next to her and opened it. Then sliding my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the USB drive and plugged it in, bringing up the files I’d saved in the studio. With a click of the mouse, the first track began to play, those familiar chords ringing once again. I sat back and watched her, waiting for some kind of reaction on her face.

But none came.

Not when the first track ended, nor when the second song started, the first lyric blatantly about her. I started to get restless, rubbing my palms on my knees and bouncing my leg. I ran my fingers through my hair, a habit she used to tell me was endearing, only now she didn’t give any indication that she even noticed.

Finally, during the third song, I saw her make the slightest move, leaning against the arm of the sofa and resting her head in her hand. We made eye contact for a second before she quickly looked away, her eyes hazy. I wondered what she was thinking. I wanted so badly to ask, to pry it out of her, but I’d promised she needn’t talk.

We were halfway through the album when I caught more movement out of the corner of my eye. I’d been sat with my head down, unable to look at her during track seven, the most intimate and personal song I’d written. My gaze lifted to her, and I noticed her shoulders were shaking. Her head was still in her hand, her cheeks now wet with tears.

I wanted to reach out, to hold her in my arms. God, I wanted that so bad. But I let her be. I knew she needed to cry without me giving false promises that everything was okay. None of this was okay.

I’d cried when I’d written that song. I’d broken down in the recording booth when I’d sung the chorus for the first time. I only just realized as I watched her body shake with sobs that I’d been an idiot for not telling her how I’d felt. But maybe...just maybe she could finally hear me through my songs.

By the time that track ended, I was in tears too. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, sniffling as I tried to compose myself. I sat back on the couch again, my head leant back. I shut my eyes and listened to the next song, one a little more uptempo. I tapped my fingertips on the cushion at my sides, humming softly. This song was about happy memories, when we’d laid on the beach or beside my pool last summer. When we’d been so in love and hadn’t a care in the world. Before all the fighting and jealousy and…

I almost didn’t feel it at first, her hand brushing mine. It was such a light touch, I thought perhaps I was imagining it, lost in the song. But my eyelids fluttered open when I felt it again. I stared at my right hand on the cushion, her slim fingers over mine. She used to like to do that, when we’d be sat together watching a movie, or lying in bed reading. She’d trace my hand and knuckles with her fingertips, her delicate hand dancing over mine before I’d smile and thread our fingers together. It was an unspoken gesture of affection we’d had. I missed it.

God, I missed her.

I raised my head to look at her. I half expected her to be looking at me too, but she was focused on our hands. Her expression wasn’t one I’d hoped either. She looked sad, her cheeks still tear-stained. I wanted to kiss them, make it all better.

I opened my mouth to say her name, but nothing came out. I cleared my throat and she looked at me. I turned my hand over then like I used to, wanting to thread our fingers together. But she pulled away, her jaw set.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked, my voice a deep rasp.

They were the first words either of us had spoken since the music started, and I instantly regretted it, knowing I’d meant to stay silent until the end. We were on track nine now, a couple more songs to go. I still wanted her to hear all of it. I wanted her to know I still felt the same, even though I wasn’t completely over the anger, over the heartbreak. But I’d spilled my guts out in my songs. I was shit at communication, I knew that. I hoped that she could understand it all in my music.

“I...I don’t know,” she whispered.

She crossed her legs then, sat in the corner of the couch. She reached behind her head and pulled at her bun, letting her hair fall freely down her shoulders. She seemed comfortable, at least less resistant than she had when I’d knocked on her door. I could tell she wanted to talk, but she kept her mouth shut because I’d told her she could. I also felt like she was really listening though. And that was really all I wanted.

“That was a really good song,” she surprised me after track ten. But she didn’t say anything more.

Clearing my throat again, I sucked in my lips when the final song started. If track seven had been the most personal, this was the companion to it. This was me giving my heart, me asking forgiveness and giving it back. This was me wanting another chance to prove how I felt about her. I’d known as I was writing and recording it that the possibility of that happening was slim to none. But I had to take a chance. I was tired of keeping it bottled up, being a stubborn prat because I’d wanted my way and had to be right. I was all kinds of wrong. I knew I wasn’t fully to blame for our break-up, but I was taking responsibility and owning up to my part in it. I hoped she could hear that in my voice.

By the time the song was over, my head was in my hands. I perched on the edge of the sofa shaking. I’d already listened to it a handful of times in the studio and in my car, but it hadn’t had the effect it had now, sat in her living room with her beside me. I was sobbing like a baby.

“Harry…” I heard her whisper.

When I lifted my head this time, she was right beside me, her face so close it startled me. Her hands were in her lap, and she wrung them like she was either nervous or was trying to keep herself from touching me.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “For everything.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I heard.”

“Will you forgive me?” I asked, turning to face her. I wanted to lift my hand to touch her face but thought better of it. Instead, I hesitantly reached for her hand. I was pleasantly surprised when she let me take it.

“Only if you forgive me, too,” she said.

I let out a deep breath and leant forward. I wanted to kiss her but wasn’t sure if she was ready yet. Lifting my hand this time, I grazed her cheek and wiped a tear away with my thumb.

“I still love you,” I admitted. “I never stopped. I’m just so sorry I waited this long.”

She bit her perfect bottom lip, her big eyes blinking fast.

“I thought I was over you,” she said. “I thought you were over me.”

“Guess we were both wrong.”

She leant into me then, and I took it as my cue. I took her into my arms and kissed her, like I’d wanted to kiss her for months. She felt so good against me, and I quickly found myself shedding more tears.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” she whispered when I released her lips.

“I know,” I agreed. “I promise I’m not walking out this time.”

“Good,” she nodded before kissing me again.

We ended up listening to the album again together while we prepared and ate dinner. There were more tears, but also lots of conversation. We had a long way to go, but I was hopeful.

Something had made me drive down her street. I guess it was me.

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[jarofstyles]

Leather & Lace 3

Hi loves! This is the last official part of leather and lace but I’m open to doing some one shots and blurbs for them if you want (send requests for what you’d want to see)

Leather & Lace Masterlist

Check out our Patreon for early access to pieces and 170+ exclusive writings

WC- 6.3k

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, soft dom H, slight degradation, praise kink, impact play, light choking, etc all the good stuff.

Y/N padded out of his bedroom with his shirt hanging down on her form. Standing in his kitchen, he placed the glass down with a clink, watching her as she came closer. Glasses on her nose, makeup freshly off, hair tossed on top of her head, and something in her hand. “There she is.” He smiled, leaning against the corner of his countertops. “Took a minute didn’t you? Cinnamon rolls are almost done”. The stock he kept in his fridge for her favorite treat was put to use tonight. 

“Amazing.” She beamed, coming up to him. “Sit on the stool, please. I brought a makeup wipe so I can get your eyeliner off, cause I know you’re gonna whine that you’re tired later and then you’ll whine when you get a stye.” Y/N had been through this before a million times. 

“Always thinking ahead, aren’t you Butterfly?” He laughed, tapping her nose with his fingertip and not bothering to argue. It was true. He would definitely do that, and it wouldn’t be the first or last time he did. “Alright. Be gentle with me please, m’delicate”. 

Closing his eyes, he felt her warm fingers angle his face where she wanted before the cool wipe made contact with his skin. 

“So delicate with your bruised and split knuckles, hm? What did the poor punching bag do to you this week? Does he owe you money?” One of his favorite things about Y/N since day one had been her banter. They could go back and forth and she was quick to respond. It was playful, always, but she did tend to get more out of him when she approached it this way. She was asking why he’d been upset this week and been hitting the bag so aggressively and without gloves. 

Considering they had just made it official 2 hours ago, she was the best girlfriend ever. She wouldn’t push if he didn’t want to say it and he knew the girl would just nod and move on if he said he didn’t want to talk about it, but he found himself wanting to spill every single thought that crossed his mind to her. Y/N just didn’t have a clue. 

“Mm. My father called me.” He said softly into the cinnamon scented air. The sweetness made the bitter notes of his words a bit easier to tolerate. “Just same old shit, y’know? Nothing I do is gonna be good enough. Even though I’m successful in my own right, he’s always got to add those digs in.” The tumultuous relationship between Harry and his father had always been a sore spot. They weren’t enemies and he didn’t hate him, no, but their relationship had been rocky since Harry had gone to uni and not followed in his footsteps. He tried to be supportive in his own way but it was obvious that he disapproved.

Even though he was a grown man and he had plenty of other people proud of him, it always stung. “Sucks sometimes, that I want his approval. It’s the tiniest bit in me, a speck, but I can always feel it when I talk to him. It’s been a few years since the whole blowout and it’s gotten better but I just have to get over it, I guess. I don’t think he ever will.” Even though his sister had done what he wanted Harry to do, it wasn’t the same in his eyes. 

“I can only imagine.” There was a delicate pause as she got underneath his waterline. “But it’s okay to be upset about it, you know?” She always tried to tread lightly while also being truthful. It was a sensitive subject and the girl knew it. “He’s your dad. It’s going to bother you because we’re literally wired to want our parents' acceptance. It’s human nature.” Gentle swiping over his eyes got the pencil liner off, but she was thorough with it. Besides, she had a feeling he’d prefer his eyes closed for this sort of talk.  “I’m sorry that it’s like that for you, H. I know my words won’t replace his but I’m extremely proud of you and all you’ve done. Hopefully he’ll come around and see all that the rest of us do but… if he doesn’t? That’s a him problem.” 

Harry didn’t know how she managed to always say the right things. The knot in his throat shrunk from the comfort she gave him, her tender handling of both his physical being and his heart. This was the reason he wanted more with her. Almost anyone could get him to nut off, but not a single other person made his heart feel like this. Just as she’d said earlier, he felt completely safe with her in a way he didn’t even know he needed. Before her, he hadn’t realized how uncomfortable he was around people, but she showed him a brand new point of view. 

In the past, he’d opened himself up slightly to one girl. One girl who had used him and fucked his best mate, who he caught in the act. It had walled up the rest of his emotions in iron, not wanting even a crack to get into him because why would he? He’d never thought she or he would do that to him, never had any suspicion until about a month before when he saw glances across the room- but it turned out it wasn’t just his birthday outing they’d been planning. 

Then this girl had come along with her warmth and rusted the iron, getting it worn and cracked until there was a Y/N shaped hole for her to fill. She was understanding of his somewhat snarky nature, never took it personally and had stuck by him even when he’d tried to push her away. 

There had only been one time when he had been somewhat successful and it made his stomach twist and chest ache when he thought about it. It was far earlier on In their friendship, a few weeks in actually. She’d caught him on a bad day, coming up to him outside with her chatterbox open and running asking if he wanted to go to the cafe with him and that she had a surprise- and he’d snapped at her. He’d been rougher with his words than he meant to, honest, but he wanted to be alone and said as much in a not as nice manner. He’d watched her shoulders drop and the sparkle quite literally leave her eye as she looked towards the ground with a nod as even then when he least deserved it, she tried to be understanding.

 Something in him cracked when he heard the slight quiver in her voice when she apologized for being annoying and he’d looked up to see tears in those eyes and… fuck. His stomach dropped to his feet, watching her bottom lip quiver as she reached into her bag and grabbed the candy bar she’d grabbed from the vending machine after her class had ended, handing it to him before she scurried off. It was clear she hadn’t been tearing up for attention from how quickly she had left him, and with a candy bar in hand he felt completely nauseous over how he’d treated her. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling even as he gathered his things and called out for her, throat thick as his bad day got worse only by his own accord. Her lack of presence was felt, coldness settling in his bones when he realized what he’d truly done. It was then that he vowed to never treat her like that again. Y/N had been the sweetest thing in the world to him, got him his fucking favorite candy and was excited to study with him and he’d gone and fucked it all up. Made her fucking cry. She’d been long gone by the time he stumbled back into the pathway but he was already trying to make it right.

In the end he had showed up at her door with a teddy bear in hand along with her favorite candy and some take away, feeling like a kicked puppy as she opened her door and he had seen her swollen eyes and lips. It had been the most heartbreaking thing he ever saw and he apologize profusely when she let him in even when he didn’t deserve it, hugging her on his own accord for the first time and running fingers through her hair as she insisted she forgave him. ‘Everyone has those days and I’m sensitive, I know.’ Is what she said. 

Some days even still he thought about that as he watched people take advantage of her and it made him even more motivated to take care of her. 

In these sort of moments it felt hard not to think about loving her. Even in his rough and tumble sort of persona, she treated him tenderly. Held his arm, brushed his hair back, fixed his tangled necklaces, Y/N had treated him with a delicacy that he didn’t know he needed. 

As soon as the makeup wipe was pulled away, he opened his eyes and cupped her cheek to pull her in for a kiss. It had already been hard to keep his lips to himself, but this situation… it was his new obsession. “You know you’re perfect, right?” He asked against his current addiction, pressing another kiss to them. “Just… I dunno how you always know how to say the right shit. It scares me sometimes, y’know? Sometimes it feels too good to be true, that you… that you’re some sorta dream, but you’re not. And now you’ve told me you’re mine, and M’really fucking nervous about fucking it up but I’m going to do everything I can to be the best for you. Alright?” 

The emotion had slipped off his tongue without his permission but for one of the first times in his life he didn’t regret it. Her lips curled against his in that breathtaking smile he adored, tossing the wipe to the side as she wrapped an arm around his neck. “Harry… I don’t expect perfection. I know relationships… they take time to build. You aren’t some sort of build-a-boyfriend to me. I like you because you’re you. I like the grumpy, sarcastic, scowly bits of you. I always have. You’ll fuck up, I’ll fuck up, it’ll be a whole thing and then guess what?” Pulling back, she took in his face with her soft gaze. “We’ll fix it up again and it’ll be stronger. As long as you don’t cheat on me? I’m yours. And we both know you really aren’t capable of that.”

Harry would rather saw his hand off than cheat. He’d seen what it had done to him, so putting anyone else through that would be disgusting on top of hating the concept to begin with. He’d cut off people he knew for cheating on their partners and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. “M’glad you know.” He sighed. In a weird way, this talk was making him aroused. Hearing how she liked him, that she knew they’d work, it just… it did something to him. “You look perfect in my clothes.” That too. Yeah, that had something to do with the thickening happening in his pants.

“I like wearing them. I always have. I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while, you know.” She teased, leaning into his body and letting her tits press up against him as she kissed his jaw lightly. “It always made me feel like yours when you let me wear them.” 

“You’ve been mine.” The dark grumble of his voice was a telltale sign that the words had pleased him. “Regardless of title, you’ve been mine for a while.” It was true and the both of them knew it. Harry’s eyes had been blind to anything but her for a long time and it had been painfully obvious when he hadn’t been able to get it up for other people not too long after meeting her.  Or had to think about her in order to nut off. 

“I know.” The confirmation was warm as she felt his hand travel down to rest above her ass. “And I was hoping you’d been mine for a bit but I’m pretty sure I was. You like to talk when you’re getting head, huh?” The smile was teasing and maybe he should be flushed at that but it was just another layer of arousal for him to remember her on her knees with his cock tucked between puffy lips and drool down her pretty chin. 

“No, actually. Jus’ with you.” He said truthfully. “I was… more of a hit it and quit it with the other people if m’honest. Know I babbled a bit but it felt really fucking good.” They could both feel he was hard now and the awkwardness of the last encounter on his end was gone. “Never expected you to be filthy, though. Thought you’d be a bit more shy but… I like that you were gagging for it just as much as I was.” Over the fabric of his shirt he gripped her ass, a nice handful as he squeezed and watched her eyes flutter shut at the feeling. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you properly. I’ve been dying to taste you,’to feel you. But I need t’know what you like.” 

“A bit of leather and lace.” Was the answer. Long lashed eyes peered up at him as she tipped her head back to look at him. “Sweet and spice. Nice and mean. Be sweet to me and call me a slut again. Spank me and kiss it better. That’s what… it’s what I’ve always imagined with you.” Her words were slightly more hesitant now but she didn’t back down. “You can be a little rough with me as long as you baby me later. I’ve never been…” she paused for a moment as she bit her lip. “I’ve never been fucked right. People treat me like I’m some delicate little toy which, I can be and I like sometimes but… I’ve always known you’d be able to give me the deep one I want. The type to make me lose my breath. Right?” Her fingers curled around his wrist that still rested on her cheek and trailed it down to have his hand rest against her throat. “You can throw me around a bit and make me take it. I can still be a doll for you, but maybe one you use a little bit.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Harry’s mouth was torn between being dryer than the desert and watering down his chin at her descriptors of what she wanted. His hands held her ass and her throat and she was handing herself over on a silver platter as his cock twitched in between them, eager to get to work on her. “Fuck me…” he whispered hoarsely, thumbing over the side of her neck before giving a tiny squeeze. Just a bit, watching her face as he did so. She melted almost immediately and it was then he got the confirmation that she'd been hand crafted for him. Eyes glazed over and a weak, precious whine escaping her mouth and vibrating against the hand covering her throat, he couldn’t hold himself back from kissing her hard. Gathering her as close as possible with his hand keeping its grip for half the kiss before releasing it and using it as a guide to keep her close. “You’re going to ruin me, and M’gonna love every fucking second of it.” 

—-

It had happened quite quickly. The buzz of the oven interrupted them, the only reason Harry even slightly entertained it was so he didn’t burn the place down. He had been quick to toss them on the counter and lost the oven not before picking her up and bringing her into his bedroom. 

“If I died right now, I’d be okay.” He whispered as he looked at her bare cunt. The panties had been discarded and his lips kissed her inner thighs, nosing over the sensitive skin and watching her react to him. “You’re so gorgeous. Smell so fucking good, Butterfly. Gonna have t’tear me away from this pussy.” It was not a joke. 

Kissing over the mound, he spread her open and gave a long lick over the expanse of her slight and yeah- yeah. He was addicted. Licking deeper into her, he felt himself melt into a frenzied version of himself as he let his tongue explore her. Fingers buried in his hair as she gripped him, stomach jumping as she panted at the feeling of his mouth on her. 

Harry had enjoyed giving head before, was no stranger to eating pussy, but this was different. There had never been this all encompassing need to make her cum over and over again on his tongue, that greed that settled in his gut as he heard her moan his name and spread her legs further for him. Welcoming him and his touch. 

He didn’t hold back. Y/N had told him what she wanted and he knew her well enough now to understand. 

“Sweet.” He mumbled against her. “So fuckin’ sweet. Course you are, Butterfly. Fuckin’ perfect, every inch.” Kissing her clit he felt her jump, chuckling as he did it again before licking over the sensitive pearl. “M’gonna make you cum on my tongue, and then M’gonna give you the fuck you needed. I’ll be so nice to you, baby. So sweet, get you nice and fucked out the way you need. Promise.” 

Harry was going to fulfill that promise. Wrapping his lips around her clit, he gave soft, pulsing suckles as he slipped a finger inside of her and felt her hips buck off the bed. 

It was only a introduction, a sneak peek of what he’d feel around his cock but he had to remind himself not to blow too early as he felt her clenched around his digit. Tight and hot and silky against his hand, he groaned against her cunt and nuzzled deeper into it as he settled in. 

“H-Harry… oh my god.” She sighed out, slowly grinding against his face. “Oh my god, you… you’re so good at this. I’ve never….” Never came from this, which was something that pissed him off when he put the pieces together but he knew he’d wear the title of the first one to be successful proudly. Ideally, no one else would ever have it again. He had no plans on giving this obsession up. 

He hummed against her, meeting her eyes as she looked down at him with her messy hair and her bitten lips, mouth opened in the cutest little ‘o’ shape and her brows furrowed. Her clit was throbbing against his tongue and he couldn’t get enough, sucking a bit harder as he added a second finger inside of her. 

“Oh fuck, oh- just like that. Your fingers are big.” She whimpered, making him chuckle against her. Of course they were compared to her own. He had imagined that exact thing in this bed, imagining her in her own room with her fingers stuffed inside her drippy cunt and his name peeling off hers lips as she made herself orgasm. 

Making himself pull back, he fucked his fingers into her and enjoyed every bit of the noise it made. He’d made her wet like this, he’d gotten her to be a sopping mess and he enjoyed every single second of feeling it on his fingertips. “I know, baby. But my cock is much bigger and I need to get you prepped for it. You’re plenty wet…” he purred, leaning over her and keeping her eyes as he pursed his lips and spit right over her clit. “Just need to make you cum and you’ll be nice n’ready for me.” 

There wasn’t a hint of hesitation as he went back in, spreading his spit with his tongue before returning to his motions. He could feel it in her actions, how she clenched around his fingers, pulling her clit into his mouth over and over again as she got more and more wet around his fingers with difficulty not bucking into him. 

“I want it, I need it. I’ve been thinking a-about it for so long. I need you to fuck me, H.” Her voice was different than he’d ever heard it. More whiny, a tinge of desperation to the sweet sound he was obsessed with, and every bit of hot as he knew it would be. 

“I will, baby. Promise. Jus’ let go for me. I can feel you’re close.” He coaxed, curling his fingers just so and watching as her head fell back against the duvet as his lips continued the pull of her clit. 

It was hotter than he could’ve imagined. When she came a few minutes later, he watched her hand grip his hair and the other her own breast as she let out the prettiest noises and whines of his name as she trembled, hips bucking again into his mouth as she tumbled over the edge.

He held her steady with a happy noise, pulling off her clit with one last soft suckle and a kiss but kept his fingers inside of her as he moved back up her body to kiss her mouth. She welcomed it, both hands grabbing his face and not minding the mess she made on his chin and nose from his healthy exploration of her. Mumbled of praised were echoed between their kisses, slow pumps of his fingers working her through the orgasm as she rocked her hips into his hand. 

“Harry, I need it.” Her eyes met his. “I’m clean, I just- I need it, I need you inside me now.” Her neediness wasn’t something he’d been privy to before and it was more than satisfying, but he had to admit that what made him feel even better was knowing she wanted to go bare. He’d

Gotten tested just a few weeks ago at his appointment which was a bit of serendipity, he supposed, because now he was going to get what he had been stroking off to the most. 

“Yeah? Y’sure?” He whispered, watching her nod as he slowly pulled his fingers from her cunt and quickly cupped over it, soothing her. “You’re a dream. Y’know that, baby?” A laugh of disbelief echoed from his chest as he slowly pulled his hand back and slipped his pants off. His shirt had been tossed in the midst of things and he wanted hers off too, even if the idea of fucking her in his tee shirt was appealing. Later. 

She was receptive to it, letting him tug it off and exposing her to him again. 

He had to take a moment to simply enjoy her. 

Harry had always appreciated how beautiful she was but he also had to take a second to be thankful that she let him see her at her most vulnerable. That he got to see her in the most delicate state, one he was going to be the only one to see. Spread thighs and bare tits and soft tummy, all his. His, his, his. 

“M’so happy you’re mine.” He whispered, running a hand over her stomach as his other fisted his cock. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Not jus’ your body but your whole being. And I hope you know how much it means t’me that you’re letting me be yours too.” It hit him then, watching her peer up at him. He was being entrusted with a damn near golden heart and there were no plans on doing anything but cherishing it. 

“H…” she whispered, motioning him to come to her. He did, as he always will, buttoning their lips together as he nudged his tip through her wet slit and felt her sigh, wrapping her legs around his hips. “You are perfect. I adore you and- and I’m happy you’re letting me be yours too. You make me feel so good in all the ways possible and I just want to be as close as I can get.” 

There was no room left for debate. 

He began to push into her, watching her face as he filled her. It was slow at first, letting himself pace themselves considering he knew very early on that this would have to be a multiple round night because there was no way he’d be satisfied with just one. Y/N had been the object of his affections for a long while now and finally getting to be with her in the way he’d craved had lit him up. 

“There we are…” he whispered as he was fully inside of her. “You feel so good on me, Butterfly.” A kiss pressed to her lips, slow rocking into her for the beginning of this. The man fully intended to give her what she wanted but the first few moments would be tender and soft, show a true appreciation of her. The soft yellow light of his lamp next to his bed lit up the side of her face, shadows across the other side. Her hand held his bicep and the other on the back of his neck as she let out a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed kisses all over her face.

It was a high, feeling her heat on him. She was everywhere, capturing every bit of him yet again. Tugging him deeper into a trap he had no plans on escaping from. The slow rocking of their hips garnered a hitch in her breath, still sensitive from her orgasm moments ago but taking in every moment she could. Every second felt special and precious. 

“You don’t even know….” He breathed. “Don’t even know how much I think about this. Made me feel like a perv for a bit, seeing you in my shirt last week… then you crawled into my lap and you ruined me.” It was hard to keep it from spilling out.  “I couldn’t run anymore from how you m-make me feel. And then y’put your mouth on me, near begged to, made me feel fucking crazy. I’ve been waiting all week to get my hands on you again… but this is the best day.” The fact that she was officially his and she was holding on to him, letting out a sweet sigh as he began to pull out the slightest bit and pushed back in. 

“I thought about it too.” She admitted, though it felt hard to talk. “I wanted this and-and I wanted you and m’so happy right now.” Her eyes watered a bit and fuck, fuck, fuck.  He cooed, shaking his head as he kissed her again. His sweet girl, crying because she had wanted him just as much as he had wanted her. 

“M’yours, Butterfly. All yours, and… M’not gonna let you go. Promise. You can have me as many times, as many days, as you want.” The man doubted that she’d ever truly understand how much this meant to him, how much she meant to him. That she’d look past his shitty attitude and stuck by him long enough to see the real parts, the softer ones. Hell, she made him want a relationship when he had never thought he’d want one again.

Harry was unequivocally hers, body and heart.

It stayed slow for a while, deep kisses and soft moans, but he could feel her start to get restless. He was very aware of part of his appeal to her- the rough and tumble. So when he felt her start to squirm, he took her throat again and held her back down, keeping his slow pumps as he watched her eyes hood and a soft mewl fall from her lips as she clenched around his cock. “Impatient girl. You’re tryin’ to rush me, hm?” He whispered, squeezing the sides of her throat momentarily. “I told you I’d fuck you right. But I wanted to appreciate you, make you feel how much I adore you. Is that not enough for my girl?” 

Y/N shook her head, panting as her legs tightened around his waist. “M’sorry.  I’m not trying to rush you, promise. I just feel so good n’I want more.” 

“Of course she does. Pretty little doll wants some more.” He crooned, clicking his tongue. “Being stuffed to the brim and stretching that tiny cunt isn’t enough for you. You told me about this, warned me. Told me you liked a bit of both.” Pulling out a bit more, he slid back in with a bit of force that caught her breath. “So you’re tired of being my sweet girl… you want to be a whore?”

There was something about the delicacy in the way he said it, the way it was silky and smooth and so unlike how the word would usually be delivered that had her moaning out loud. He was so, so nice to her and she loved it but it was clear she needed some more. Thankfully she had come to the right place. 

“Okay, okay. You want t’be a cute little slut. I see how it is, my darling.” He grinned, containing the slightly rougher pace. “Jus’ let me look at this gorgeous face a bit longer, and then I’ll flip you on your hands and knees so you can bury your face into the bed while I make you cum.” 

Harry had a hard time controlling himself knowing that she wanted to be roughed up. His angelic Y/N, wanted to be pounded out into the mattress. The original thought was that he’d have to work her up to that and see if she liked it, maybe a spank or two, but here she was. Gushing on her cock from the mere mention of being fucked harder. 

“Do you want me to spank that pretty ass?” He questioned, listening to the squelch of her cunt with each pass inside of her. His personal heaven. “Make it hot? How much do you want, Butterfly?” 

“I want anything.” She promised. “Please spank me and- and choke. I want to feel it tomorrow.” It was apparent now that she really did crave it, bucking into his thrusts and getting wetter the harder he got. He was going to have such a good time learning her body. How it ticked, what got her off, what made her squirm. It was a whole new facet to their relationship that he was giddy to explore. 

“I’ll give you anything you want, my gorgeous girl.” He promised. “Make the prettiest fuck doll out of you.” 

Harry kept his promise. 

Y/N squealed as he pulled out, flipping her over and hissed at his hands spreading each side of her ass open. “Look at you… you piece of art.” He sighed. “M’gonna mark this canvas up. Never imagined bruising you before but… what my girl wants, she gets.”

The first spank was a quick one, making her yelp as he stuffed himself back into her needy hole. It was exposing her, letting him have access to her cunt and ass and it was obviously exhilarating from how she clenched before pushing back into him for more. “You liked it.” The man smirked, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands. “We’re going to get on perfectly in the bedroom, aren’t we Butterfly?” 

From there, Harry let loose. Keeping a hand on her hip and the other holding her ass, giving swats to the skin as he fucked into her deep and thorough. He watched in awe as her ass rippled every time it met his thighs, the sound of skin slapping and her whimpers filling his bedroom. Her cunt was hot and so fucking wet he was surprised he hadn’t slipped out yet, creamy and soft but keeping him in tight. 

He’s heard Y/N babble before, but all she could come up with was whimpers and whines of his name, more, and again when he smacked the round of her ass. It was unexpected, but he was eating up every single movement, every noise she squeaked out. It felt incredible to know he was the one doing it. He had been the one to make her lose that soft shell and got deep into the underbelly, literally and metaphorically, burying deep inside of her with each tuck. “That’s my girl, taking it so well. I adore you, y’know that?” He cooed. “Love this hot cunt. Think M’gonna stay inside of it for a while, what do you think?” There was no answer but a punched out breath from his cock. “Mmm… I think so too. You did say you wanted t’be my whore.” The tone was slightly condescending but it was evident quickly that she reacted well to that. 

For all the time he’d been thinking about this, reality was much sweeter. With her taste on his tongue and her arousal smeared all over his cock and forming a creamy ring around the base of his cock with each squelching fuck into her needy and willing hole, he couldn’t have imagined something better. Something so unfiltered and raw, going bare inside his candy sweet girl who had overtaken his life. 

What really set her off, though, was his fingers tucking under her and finger her slippery and swollen clit, rubbing over it firmly, she moaned loud and clear, panting into the air as she clumsily grabbed his wrist as if to keep it there. Like he’d pull it away. “I see it baby, I feel it. You jus’ needed that clit played with. You’re gonna cum for me.” He breathed in an amazed chuckle. “Gonna cum all over my cock so I can fill you to the brim and keep you full and warm.” 

Y/N didn’t need much more than that. His cock in her tummy and his fingers at her clit, ass burning slightly from his swats. He felt it the moment it began, the fluttering around his prick and her hitch of breath as she got his name falling from her mouth and the slight tense of her body before she fell apart on him.

The prettiest sight he’d ever seen in his life. It was then that he swore he’d do his best to see it as many times as he possibly could, which would be a blessing or a curse depending on what the girl underneath him thought of overstimulation. 

Which was why even as he growled out, spilling into the perfect cunt that milked him, he kept thrusting. Slow and sloppy now, feeling his load dripping from her and onto the bed, he continued with his fingers on her clit as she squirmed. His cock fucked the cum right into her, massaging it into her walls as he kissed her skin. “‘Nother one. Gimme another one, my baby. Show me how much y’love being my sweet little whore.”

The sensitivity was probably to blame with how fast the second one came, shaking slightly as she let out the weakest whine of his name before pushing his hand away. Even though he could’ve done it over and over, he hummed and listened to her cue, turning them onto their sides and kept himself snug inside of her. He’d clean her up in a bit, bring her to the shower, make sure she was fed her cinnamon rolls, but for a little bit he wanted to bask in the bliss of having a dream come true. 

“S’okay, Butterfly. I’ve got you.” He nudged his nose against her neck, placing another chaste kiss there as she folded their fingers together. “Now you can fly home to me.” 

—-

It was far too late for cinnamon rolls if a normal person had any say, but thankfully they didn’t. Y/N sat on the counter with her hair placed back into that messy updo and his shirt on her torso while he had been convinced to wear his boxers while in the kitchen, dipping the microwave reheated cinnamon rolls in the icing. 

“I’ve got to teach you how to make them from scratch.” His girl sighed, kicking her feet as they dangled off the counter. 

“What, is my store bought hot food enough for you?” He pouted in faux offense, but luckily she didn’t fall for it. 

“You know that’s not the case. I love that you buy me some to have when I’m here.” A sugary kiss was given to his bottom lip, but she pulled away too fast to deepen it. A shame if you asked him. “It’s just, y’know, it would be fun to do together. There’s plenty of time to… hang out while the dough rises, and stuff like that.” 

Harry’s brows shot up at the insinuation, the unexpected laugh barking through the kitchen as he lowers his half ripped cinnamon roll to the plate. “I’ve created a little monster, haven’t I?” The shit eating from on his face showed no sign of regret, though. “One fuck and I’ve corrupted you. Sweet little thing turned into a needy pup in heat.” He paused before pointing a finger smeared with cinnamon sugar on it in her face. “Or have I just uncovered something that was in front of my face this whole time? Innocent act?” 

Y/N answered by leaning forward to take his finger into her mouth, sucking on it slowly and flicking her tongue over the tip before pulling back on it. 

There was no doubt now he’d found his perfect match, even if it was his complete opposite. Maybe they weren’t as different as he thought.

[1d1195]

Thursday

Read Tuesday and extras here | 2.8k words

From me: based on this ask/suggestion

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst

Summary: A lot of things are back to normal. Like coffee dates, movie nights, and sharing a skin routine with Niall. But some things are a little uncharted. Like onions, bookmarks, dishes, and exes.

“What’s your favorite day of the week?” She asked.

“Friday of course,” Niall rolled his eyes. “What else would it be?”

“Saturday, obviously,” Harry stared at his friend as he brought a glass of water from the kitchen. He held it out to her. “Here, kitten.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking a long sip before Harry took it back from her and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. “Thursday is my favorite,” she told the pair. Harry fell into the seat beside her, his hand immediately resting on the inside of her leg, squeezing her thigh gently.

“Thursday!?” Niall’s eyebrows pinched together. “You still have a whole workday left! Why would you like Thursday?”

She shrugged. “Just... it’s a good day, you know? It’s anticipating for Friday. It’s nice.”

Harry stared at her dreamily. She could feel him look at her in her peripheral. It had been a while since someone looked at her the way he was looking at her. It hadn’t been long since they admitted they still loved each other. Only a few months. They settled back into the same normal routines they had when they dated the first time. “S’cute, love,” he squeezed her leg. “What movie are we doing tonight, Ni?”

“What number are we on?”

Harry shrugged. “Oh, I haven’t a clue. Think Mitch is keeping us on track.”

Since they started seeing one another again, she hadn’t come to one of their weekly movie nights. It made her feel better about not being overbearing and needy. But Harry invited her every week. Niall too. You don’t have to be here because of Harry. I want you here just as much as he does—maybe more because I’m ready to tie you to a chair to stay, Princess.

So finally, after countless invites, she finally caved. Not that it was hard. She was excited to be there. Their group of friends had been making their way through the Best Picture Oscar winners since the award’s beginning. It was cool to see how things changed over time, and it was really adorable to hear the way Harry talked about it. “I don’t have to stay for movie night,” she reminded Harry quietly. “If you want time with just your friends without—”

Although his mouth opened to protest, it wasn’t Harry that answered. “Princess, don’t be ridiculous,” Niall rolled his eyes. “Course we want you here. Help us pick out food.”

Niall cast his phone to the TV screen and was scrolling through the nearby places that would deliver to them in the next hour when their other friends arrived. “M’feeling pizza I think,” Harry suggested.

“Pizza it is,” Niall selected their favorite pizza place and began selecting way more pizza than seven people could ever eat.

“Make sure there’s one without onions.”

Her heart fluttered that Harry remembered that about her after all their time apart. Part of her thought about just going with it, never admitting the change in her palate. But she didn’t want to lie. “Actually,” she cleared her throat. “I like onions now,” she admitted almost shyly. Like she wasn’t allowed to change her mind.

“Y’do?” Harry blinked and turned fully toward her. A delighted smirk on his lips. It made the dimple in his left cheek pop through prominently.

She nodded. “Not sure how it happened. Think I accidentally ate something with onions in it and didn’t pick them out like a five-year-old. It actually tasted good. I like French onion soup now and everything,” she explained.

Harry’s smile grew, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead as if it was a bigger to do than it was; like winning an award or something. “I told y’that y’would like them,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and buried her face in his chest. “So brave,” he teased.

“Oh, shut it,” she laughed. “Did you at least warn them that I would be here?” She asked.

“Sarah is really looking forward to seeing you,” Niall once more took the lead in explaining. “She is tired of being the only girl around.”

While it wasn’t fully said, she knew Harry had been seeing a girl. In one way or another. It wasn’t a bad thing, she wasn’t judging. But Harry got exceedingly cagey about it whenever she tried to broach the subject. “What about—”

Harry squeezed her thigh again. A silent directive to stop her question. Niall smirked as Harry cut off her inquiry (and Niall’s impending quip). “Y’could bring a girl home, y’know,” Harry reminded him.

“She’ll be so jealous of our princess here,” Niall winked making her laugh. It really felt so easy. So simple. Just being back where she was supposed to be. Like nothing had changed at all. “Holding out for the one, Harold. You should know something about that,” he said knowingly and finished placing the pizza order. His phone screen disappeared from the TV, and he left the room.

She didn’t want Harry to feel like he had to hide part of his life from her. They were adults. He was allowed to see anyone he wanted. “You know...you can talk about someone you dated—”

“We didn’t date.”

“—pardon, fucked,” she smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a shade redder than she thought he needed to turn. It didn’t bother her that Harry had a life outside of her. He was unbelievably handsome. Unbelievably sweet. He deserved to be happy. She wasn’t jealous of someone else in his life when she had no claim to him in any way. “I jus’ don’t think s’polite t’talk ‘bout her t’you,” he shrugged. “S’rude.”

“Okay,” she nodded encouragingly. “If that’s how you feel, I just wanted you to know you could if you wanted to.”

Harry seemed a little less on edge about it after that, but she noted his grip on her thigh loosened. Even though she kinda liked how his fingers felt pressed into her skin. She figured she could tell him later when they were alone... and her clothes weren’t in the way.

*

They sat in the very coffee shop she used to work in. It was nice to get out and have an inexpensive date—even with two grown up jobs it was smart to sit and relax in the comfy seats and sip coffee they loved so much. It made her heart flutter that Harry still knew her order after so much time. Or maybe that was a comment on her stubbornness to change. “You should try the hazelnut drink they just got,” she smiled at him as they stood in line, holding hands. “It made me think of you.” The overlap of seeing him after two years and the new drink reminded her of all the things he loved and all the things she remembered loving about him. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek.

Once seated, Harry stretched his legs; they invaded her space beneath the table. But it didn’t seem to bother her. He admired her concentration on the book she was reading; the little furrow of her brow, the way her lips pursed together. She was so adorable, and Harry didn’t think she even knew. Beneath the table he nudged her leg with his knee, and she glanced up at him. He could tell she didn’t want to look up from her book. But he smiled at her. A smile that made her heart and stomach twist because he was so Harry, so perfect. It made her smile back.

“Harry!”

Both their heads turned to the voice. But after a brief moment, she turned to look at Harry. Trying to piece together the recognition. She came up short, but Harry stood and greeted the girl with a hug politely. There was a little flutter of jealousy that pinched her heart and she waited patiently.

“Kitten, this is Hailey,” his voice was neutral.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she cleared her throat and stood.

Hailey was beautiful. There was no question about it. When she left, she was going to ask about a thousand questions. Starting with if she was a model. Then asking Harry if she knew what kind of hair products she used.

“Same to you,” she smiled politely. Her voice took on a new tone as she turned back to Harry. It was obvious her problem wasn’t with her, for which she was grateful. “Hadn’t heard from Harry in a while.”

“That’s my fault,” Harry’s voice was low. As if he was exhausted. She could tell Harry wanted out of this conversation. Curiosity was getting the better of her as she tried to imagine if she had ever met Hailey prior or heard the name in any stories Niall had told.

“How long have you been seeing each other?” Hailey asked. She noticed her tone was getting harsher by the second. Her glare bored into Harry’s face.

She opened her mouth to say, ‘a few months,’ and get her attention away from her boyfriend. But Harry beat her to the punch. “Two and a half years,” he told her.

Hailey quirked an eyebrow up and she tilted her head at him curiously because while true, technically, there was a large two-year gap between the ‘two’ and the ‘half’ part of his sentence. But it did make her heart happy that he was willing to let the gap slide into oblivion. It would definitely require explanation, but it was nice.

Hailey looked at Harry for a long moment. “That’s news to me.”

“Hailey,” he said quietly.

“I can let you guys talk if—”

“S’fine, kitten,” he said quickly.

Hailey looked irritated beyond belief. She wished she fully knew why because right now the only thing she felt was overwhelming uncomfortableness. Quietly she sat in her seat and folded the page of her book down. Harry did a double take and shook his head before turning his attention back to Hailey.

“You ghosted me,” she said.

Harry closed his eyes. “I did,” he admitted. “But we were never...”

“I deserved more than that.”

“You did,” he agreed. It clicked. The girl that Harry wasn’t dating. The girl he was fucking in some arrangement that she didn’t know about. Her cheeks felt warm just knowing what happened. Hailey looked pissed. Her eyes were fueled with anger. “But we weren’t exclusive.”

She continued to glare at him. “You’re an ass.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded in agreement.

It almost seemed like Hailey was mad Harry was agreeing with her. Not that she could fully look at the scene unfolding in front of her to truly gauge it. She was taking extreme interest in her coffee cup. Hailey grabbed Harry’s cup of coffee, pulled the lid off and she closed her eyes as Harry braced for the cold liquid to cover him. “Good luck,” Hailey said in her direction then marched off to the exit. Once out of the shop and everyone was watching Harry drip from head to toe, she jumped into action. She asked her former coworkers for some towels, and she felt her face heat with embarrassment on behalf of Harry. If she wasn’t there, maybe that wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps Hailey would have had a conversation with Harry that she fully deserved and she wouldn’t have felt the need to dump coffee all over him.

“Kitten,” Harry murmured as she dabbed at his clothes and cleaned up the puddle at his feet. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. Are you alright?”

“M’so embarrassed,” he admitted.

She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here,” she squeezed his arm.

“But our date...”

She laughed quietly. “I mean, I wanted you out of your clothes anyway,” she teased.

Harry chuckled, his cheeks turning slightly pink with her flirtatious joke, and looked at his feet. “Yeah? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” She asked. There was a long pause as she gathered their belongings, returned the towels to the front where she thanked them profusely. Then she held the door open for Harry, sticky with coffee. He shrugged.

“I didn’t...” He sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you about her.”

“Why?”

“Because, kitten. If I knew y’were fucking some guy for the last two years without any strings attached I would be jealous out of m’mind,” he explained. “I’d be jealous if there were strings.”

She made a mental note to keep her ex to herself. “Well... I’m not mad. I wish you had told me so you could have ended things—”

“She was getting attached. I didn’t want a relationship. I started cutting it off weeks before I heard from you. I had only seen her once or twice in the months prior. She texted every now and again. I didn’t want a relationship,” he repeated. She got a jacket he had left in his backseat to lay over the driver’s seat so he wouldn’t have a car that smelled like sour coffee for the rest of time. They could always wash the jacket.

“No?” She asked. Harry took his seat and waited until she was in the passenger seat to continue.

He shook his head. “Now that I have y’back... I don’t know why we broke up,” he tapped his hands on the steering wheel. Her heart fluttered. “S’obvious now. M’not... I don’t know, kitten. Dating didn’t make sense after you. I tried. Really,” he assured her. “S’jus’... you were... you are special.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and felt the heat warm her skin with adoration and embarrassment. “You don’t have to pretend like you didn’t have a life while I wasn’t around.”

“I know. And I was wrong for how I handled Hailey,” he assented.

“Maybe, yes. But she didn’t need to pour coffee all over you.”

“At least it was iced,” Harry chuckled. She smiled. “Are we okay?”

“Of course,” she giggled.

Harry sighed with relief and grabbed her hand. He kissed her knuckles. Turning the car on and backing out of the spot. “Since when d’you fold the page of y’book like a serial killer?”

*

Harry always sucked at doing dishes. When she stayed at his house in the beginning of their relationship it drove her nuts to no end. He used too many and piled them high. Then he would leave them without soaking for so long it was miserable. It wasn’t even her responsibility to do the dishes but she felt like it was after he did all the cooking.

Which was why when he finished making dinner for them on a night in, she was floored to see him doing the dishes right away. Soaking and scrubbing them as she had done so many times over.

“You don’t like dishes,” she mumbled in surprise putting leftovers in Tupperware and condiments in the fridge.

He smirked glancing over his shoulder. “Didn’t realize how much I was torturing you all the years ago.”

She gaped. “What?”

“Niall went t’do the dishes after me shortly after we broke up,” he chuckled. “Said, ‘no wonder she broke up with you; I don’t even want t’be your roommate right now.’ Y’should have said something, kitten.”

Her cheeks felt warm. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“No,” he nodded firmly. “It was pretty bad, baby,” he nudged her with his hip.

She giggled and took the large pan that Harry had used to make stir fry (something that she had forgotten he made so well. It was delicious) and began drying it. “I don’t know, seemed like a bitchy thing to say ‘hey, I know you just made dinner for me and it was delicious and a lot of work, but I kind of want to strangle you for how difficult it is to wash the dishes.’”

He flicked water at her making her wrinkle her nose. The expression was adorable, made her look even cuter than she normally did so that Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Y’can’t hide stuff like that, kitten. Y’do that and I won’t know m’gonna lose you so I can fix it,” he winked.

“I hope you don’t lose me,” she mumbled.

He chuckled. “Whatcha say, love?” He wrapped his arms around her waist. His hands were still wet and he avoided her shirt as much as possible, holding her slightly awkwardly but it was cute. “Think m’gonna be stupid enough t’lose y’twice?”

She giggled and shook her head. “Not if I have a say in it,” she draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. He seemed to melt into the kiss—forgetting his hands were wet and getting the back of her shirt wet as well.

Which was fine by him.

He wanted her out of her shirt anyway.

—

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[harrywavycurly]

I love how Niall is a menace in the bf!harry fic like “let’s do lunch” turns into getting plastered by noon🤣

Hiii lovey!! He is such a menace but especially to Harry😂 to you he’s just your bestie who you know better than to trust when he says “let’s go to lunch” so I gave you a little convo between Niall and Harry the next day and Harry isn’t too happy with the Irish man😂💖

-find all things Boyfriend Harry here✨

[gurugirl]

Coming soon to Tumblr!

Do y'all remember this and this prompt? Well... the finished story was posted on Patreon last month and I'm about to drop the 14k word one shot here.

Keep an eye out 👀

xoxo

[avatar-anna]

After reading Harry and Julian’s relationship I can’t even image how Harry would be on his first day of school. I would love to see how Harry would react to each of his babies first days of school

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader

"Chin up, love, you're gonna make your old man cry."

Julian's little bottom lip wobbled as he tried to take a deep breath through his sniffly nose. His eyes were lined with a fresh wave of tears, his chubby cheeks ruddy from the ones he shed on the car ride to school. With a shaky voice, the cutest and most heartbreaking it had ever been, Harry thought, Jules said, "I'm s—sorry, Daddy."

"It's okay, JuJu," Harry promised, ignoring the bite of the cold tile floor on his knee as he knelt in front of his son. "Today is going to be so much fun, and it'll go so fast."

"But why can't you stay?" Julian asked, his big eyes pleading.

Those were the eyes that typically had his son getting his way without fail. Harry could never resist that particular look, especially when Julian's lips were pouted just so. My sweet boy, Harry thought. All grown up.

"Because this is school, bubbie. This is where kids go to learn."

"But you and Mommy help me learn," Julian reasoned.

"You've got an answer for everything," Harry murmured. "School is a place for learning and making friends JuJu. And to take art class and read stories and play on the playground. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Harry and Y/n had similar conversations with their son since they told him and Maeve they were going to school. For preschool, Y/n had taken on educating the twins, with Harry helping where he could. It was more manageable when they were quarantined, but now that life was returning to normal and the kids were getting older, there was only so much Y/n could manage on her own. Enrolling the kids in school seemed like the logical next step, and although some of them were excited by the new adventure, others were more apprehensive.

"Tell you what," Harry said when he realized selling the joys of school wasn't working on Julian. "When mum and I pick you and your sisters up today, we'll go get ice cream, how about that?"

"And we can feed the ducks too?" Jules asked, a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

Harry grinned. "Yep. We can go to the park and feed the ducks too. But you have to go to school first."

Julian's curls bounced on his forehead as he nodded. "Okay."

"Now dry your tears, bubbie. You're gonna have the best day ever," Harry said as he stood up.

"And you will dry your tears too, Daddy?"

Chuckling to himself, Harry wiped the corner of his eye. "Yes, JuJu. See? All gone."

Harry held his son's hand as they walked into the classroom together. Maeve was already inside, playing with a set of building blocks that were on a colorful carpet. From there, the transition was a little easier, though Harry shared a tearful goodbye with the twins when it was finally time for class to begin. He was the last parent to leave, and the teacher had to gently but firmly usher him out of the room so class could start. He stayed out in the hall for a few minutes, watching Julian to make sure he didn't burst into tears the second Harry left. Maeve was thankfully sat at the same table with two other children, and things seemed to be going well.

Before Julian noticed him in the hall, Harry left for the parking lot, wiping away the few tears that escaped yet again as he walked away from his babies. Y/n was in the car, Geneva and Natalia already in their car seats and ready for the drive home.

"How was it?" she asked.

"As expected. I had to cut a deal with Julian to get him to actually go into the classroom. Minimal tears."

"From you or from our son?"

Harry cut a glance at his wife, whose eyes were on the road in front of her as she drove away from the school. His heart clenched at the thought of leaving his children behind, but he tried not to show it. "Ha ha. Very funny."

"You were very brave," Y/n continued to tease.

Harry only hummed, glancing sidelong at his wife before saying, "Your mascara's running by the way."

"It is not."

"It is. You look like a raccoon. A very cute raccoon."

"Whatever," Y/n mumbled, subtly wiping beneath her eyes. Then, promptly changing the subject, she asked, "What did you have to promise Jules?"

"The usual. Ice cream and a trip to the park."

Y/n smiled. "Good. I was worried you were going to bribe him with a trip to his favorite candy store in New York."

"That was one time."

Y/n laughed as she turned into their neighborhood, her eyes softening as they slowly approached their empty house. It was definitely odd to only have two children with them at home, having gotten used to the usual chaos of wrangling seven children at once. Y/n and Harry had been reassuring each other for weeks that this was a good idea, promising themselves all the things they would get to do with a little more peace and quiet in the house.

When they got inside, Natalia in Harry's arms and GiGi on Y/n's hip, it was eerily quiet. No sounds of television shows, no arguing, no sounds of little feet running around. It was too quiet.

"You know, I forgot to pack the twins a snack this morning," Harry said suddenly. "They have a lunch and a snack time, don't they?"

"Yeah, but they can just—Oh. H, you're not serious."

Harry was in fact dead serious. "What will all their friends think if they have to eat a snack from their lunch box? It's inconceivable!"

Y/n leveled her husband with a look, making sure she knew his antics were a lot, even for him. Harry just stared back insistently, not willing to change his mind.

"You know you're crazy, right? Like this is crazy, even for you."

Ignoring her jab, Harry said to Geneva, "You want to go on another car ride?"

"Yeah!"

"Then it's settled. As soon as I put their snacks together, we'll go."

Y/n rolled her eyes at Harry, but couldn't deny wanting to see her kids one last time before they really had to be left alone so they could learn and adapt. Once they were back in the car and headed back to the school, Y/n rested her hand over her husband's.

"You know this can't be a thing, though, right?"

Harry shrugged, now behind the wheel. "We'll see. I'm a very forgetful person."

[finelinefae]

flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop. 

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N) 

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?" 

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night. 

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall. 

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman. 

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her. 

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed. 

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms. 

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked. 

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly. 

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy." 

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'" 

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm. 

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck.  Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals. 

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear. 

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry. 

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did. 

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her. 

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. 

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does. 

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her. 

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. 

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is." 

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?" 

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door. 

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box. 

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching. 

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened. 

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair. 

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else. 

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. 

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?" 

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss. 

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered. 

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed. 

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please," 

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything." 

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck. 

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck. 

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket. 

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin. 

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon. 

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now. 

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots. 

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her. 

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange. 

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower," 

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed. 

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck. 

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?" 

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him. 

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed. 

"You're too cute." 

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips. 

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt. 

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface. 

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone." 

She smiled. 

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things. 

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning. 

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him. 

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard. 

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat. 

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. 

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly. 

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom. 

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it. 

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth. 

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her. 

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve. 

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush." 

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something. 

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly. 

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?" 

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes. 

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh. 

"Yes daddy," She murmurs. 

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave.  Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty." 

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants. 

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers. 

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it. 

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb. 

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful. 

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole. 

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck. 

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut. 

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?" 

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-" 

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand." 

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises. 

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers. 

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting." 

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired." 

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest. 

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily. 

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

[freedomfireflies]

Knockout*

Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.

Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence

Your stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.

And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.

He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.

Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.

You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.

You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is. 

“Hi, Cherry.”

Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring. 

You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.

Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.

“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”

Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”

“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”

“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”

“As much as you want.”

He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.

Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”

“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.

And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”

“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”

Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different. 

So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.

“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”

And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy. 

“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.

Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”

“Good. Better now.”

The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles. 

“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you. 

There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”

Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall. 

“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”

Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”

It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him. 

“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”

“Are you?”

He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”

“Why?”

He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”

It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.

But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.

He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”

“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”

He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”

You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one. 

“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”

Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”

“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”

Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”

“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”

The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him. 

He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.

That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.

He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.

And from that night on, you became his Cherry.

He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.

And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:

He always pays with big bills.

He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.

And his name is Harry.

Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.

“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back. 

You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”

“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”

Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”

“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”

You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”

However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”

His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner. 

You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”

You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”

The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.

“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”

Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”

You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.

You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.

Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.

“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck. 

Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.

“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”

“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”

The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.

“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.

But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”

Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.

You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.

“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”

And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”

Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”

His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.

The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.

Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied. 

And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.

Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request. 

Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.

With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.

However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”

But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.

The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.

All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.

There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.

You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.

“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”

“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”

Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.

“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”

Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”

Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”

“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”

“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"

Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.

“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”

With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.

 But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.

He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.

 And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.

Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.

You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante. 

Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down. 

“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.

“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”

You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.

And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”

“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”

He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”

He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly. 

“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”

“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”

And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.

And truth be told…you think he already knows.

His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.

“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”

“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”

“Oh…how?”

His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”

“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”

The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting. 

But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe. 

You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.

“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”

A beat. Then, “…every night.”

The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.

And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.

But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.

It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.

And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in. 

Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.

It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.

“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”

You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.

“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”

A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.

“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”

You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.

And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.

“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”

And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else. 

“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”

He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit. 

“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”

He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.

“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”

You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like. 

Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.

His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside. 

“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”

You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Mhm. Promise.”

The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”

He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.

Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him. 

You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.

Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.

Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.

“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”

Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips. 

They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable. 

Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs. 

Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.

But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer. 

“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”

You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.

Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.

He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”

You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”

He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”

Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.

When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”

He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.

And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.

He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly. 

He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”

“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”

His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you. 

You’ve never been so happy in your life.

He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.

His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds. 

You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.

“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”

You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.

The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier. 

“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”

It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.

He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows. 

It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.

He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.

Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.

And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”

“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”

You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.

“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”

He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him. 

You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”

You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles. 

The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.

And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.

You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.

Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.

By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good. 

He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.

Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.  

“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”

The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.

But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated. 

He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.

He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.

He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum. 

You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.

Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.

Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.

He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.   

Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart. 

You’d keep him forever if you could.

You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.

“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”

And you know he will.

“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”

You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.

Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”

You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.

He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”

You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”

“Is that right?”

Another shake. “Get bored.”

“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”

Now you nod, making a noise of agreement. 

He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”

You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.

“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”

And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out. 

“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”

“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer. 

“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”

He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.

The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.

You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”

And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.

Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.

Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.

His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.

“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”

And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater. 

“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”

“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”

And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out. 

You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you. 

Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"

And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.

“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”

And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.

But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”

“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”

“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”

“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”

“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”

You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.

He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”

Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.

But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.

He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?” 

That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie. 

“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”

Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.

He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.

This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle. 

And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort. 

When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”

You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.

“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”

You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.

“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”

He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.

“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”

And you decide you like the sound of that.

Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.

He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.

You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence. 

You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall. 

You hope one day you get to find out. 

“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”

You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.

“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”

You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.

“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”

He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you. 

His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”

He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.

“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”

The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.

“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”

The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you. 

“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”

And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.

But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye. 

“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”

And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”

The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.

But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.

He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.

After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.

“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”

Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm. 

And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”

“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”

His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”

“I’m…trying. I think.”

“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”

His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.

You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour. 

It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”

This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”

“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”

His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.

But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”

You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”

Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”

And you choose to believe him.

You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.

A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.

You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.

When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.

But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.

But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06. 

Your stranger isn’t here.

I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞

Next Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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