daylightmidnights

[daylightmidnights]

Oohh! This was niceeeee. Loved it

The Other Woman

Hey my love bugs! This idea came to me and I couldn't get it out of my head so I needed to write it out. Please let me know what you think! I've been trying my hand at angst lately because it's been my weak spot- but we all know I'll give you a happy ending.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 300+ exclusive writings

WC- 4.5k

Warnings- infidelity (h with y/n), manhandling, angst, guilt, y/n grabs him but he likes it, anxiety, Harry is a flawed individual

————-

“What are you doing here?” Harry’s voice was hissed, quiet but rough as he crowded her in the kitchen. 

She had some fucking nerve. Showing up to the house with his girlfriend who was blissfully unaware in the backyard, taking up her offer on coming to the damn cookout that she had planned. 

Harry had known better than to ever bring Y/N home. His other woman. As much as he hated the sound of that, it was the truth.

“Wanted to see where you play house, even though you aren’t really happy.” She said calmly, spiking her lemonade. There was nothing cluing him into her motivation lingering in her pretty eyes. 

Those fucking eyes. He hated how much he loved them. How much he thought of them. 

“It’s nice digs, babe. Love it, actually.” She murmured, leaning against the counter and turning to face him. It was evident that he was too close to her but he didn’t back up- and she didn’t back down. Y/N never did.

“You shouldn’t fucking be here.” He said through grit teeth. “You know this is a massive overstep. A huge fucking invasion of my privacy-“

“Probably shouldn’t cheat on your girlfriend, then.” Y/N chirped, wrapping her lips around the straw of her drink. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

Those lips had done and seen a whole lot of shit that Harry really, really shouldn’t have done. 

Shit that he couldn’t stop doing, no matter how hard he tried.

“Is this because I didn’t answer you yesterday?” He knew Y/N was spiteful, she was petty, but this was going too far. 

“Partially. But I was Sarah’s plus one and she told me she was nervous. It’d have been fucked up to say no. I’m not a shit friend.” Pointing her long fingernail at him, she made a circle motion with it. “Getting to see you uneasy and pissed off was only to sweeten the deal. I didn’t come here to rub anything in her face. I feel like shit for doing this to her.” 

Harry felt like he was going to lose it. He was going to lose his fucking mind, really, because he had been drowning in guilt and yet unable to stop thinking about this fucking woman.

His brain hadn’t relaxed one singular time since he’d met her.

How she sounded when her breathy voice said his name. How her hair felt fisted in his hand. Her soft skin pressed up against his. The way she’d fuck back into him like she couldn’t get enough of his cock. How she’d suck his fingers and drool on them when he took her, wanting to keep quiet. The soft giggles she’d let out after sex, the post coital high where she’d climb on top of him, cum dripping out of her be damned, and kiss on his face. 

She made him feel wanted in a different way. 

Even if she was slightly evil. 

“You can’t be here.” He said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. Really, he had to put his foot down and he knew it, but it was hard. So fucking hard when she stood there in a fucking bikini, tits out and a fucking string in between her ass to count as bottoms. “And you can’t- you can’t wear that.”

Y/N’s playful nonchalance shifted. A dark look taking over her face as she shifted her jaw, real anger taking place on her face- and he knew he fucked up. 

He fucked up enough to where he knew he deserved her hand around his throat, her bracelets jingling together as he felt her palm, cold from her drink, settle right over the middle of it. Swallowing harshly, he knew she’d feel it against her hand. Knew she’d feel his cock kick up against her stomach.

Fuck, he was hard. So fucking hard it hurt. If he didn’t have a stain from where his cock was leaking it would be a miracle. 

She knew what it did to him when she was like this. 

Harry loved her mean. Loved her nasty. 

What he didn’t love was disappointing her.

“Don’t you ever tell a woman what she can and can’t wear.” She spit, disgust coating her words. “You’re better than that, Harry. At least I thought you were.”

Shame coated him, making him shrink slightly. It was a misunderstanding, a miswording because he wasn’t trying to be a dick. He knew her experience with that. He wasn’t like that- he never had been. It wasn’t that he wanted to control what she wore, but- it was killing him. 

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dove. I didn’t mean it like that.” He whispered, hesitantly putting his hand at risk by choosing to hold her face. A completely risky move consider where they were and her mood, but he could feel her hand loosen. “I don’t mean… m’not saying it in a controlling way. Or to shame. I mean it because…”

Harry didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to admit that he was horribly aroused by the state of her, to the point that he felt anxious. 

“Because what, Honey?” She asked, swapping her loose grip on his throat for dragging her nails up and through his hair. 

If anyone walked in, he’d be fucked. He’d be caught. And he hated that it made his cock twitch at the thought. 

“Because you know what you’re doing to me.” He whispered, looking down at the obvious bulge before back to her face. “And it’s becoming hard to hide it. You come to my house a-and you tease me. I can’t have you here.”

“Oh? And why not?” She was playing dumb and they both knew it, but Harry couldn’t stop the sigh he let out as her nails dragged over his scalp. His favorite thing she did for him. 

“Because if I have- if I have memories of you here, it’ll fuck me up. I’ve been trying to figure this all out and you fucking take up so much of my mind. I’ll never be able to come in here again without seeing this. You’re haunting me, and I don’t know what to do.” 

It was his house where his girlfriend regularly stayed. She had a toothbrush here. Drawers in his closet. It felt like too much. He was already a bastard for it and he knew that she didn’t deserve him. She deserved better. But he couldn’t give Y/N up. 

“Okay.” Y/N said softly, letting her hand drop to his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

The apology struck him like a hand to the face. Y/N wasn’t one to apologize about much- but it seemed genuine. 

“You are?”

“Yeah.” She said quietly. “I knew it was a bad idea. You have told me I’m not supposed to come here. And… I should have respected that.”

That… was different. 

“I um…” Harry struggled for words, licking his lips as he tried to think of what to say back. “It’s not personal-“

“It is.” Y/N held his gaze. “It’s very personal. I should have taken the hint from you not answering me yesterday that you want to be done with this. I’m sorry for intruding.” 

That’s the result he wanted. He wanted her to leave, he thought, but the prospect of it actually happening- of this being over- sent actual, real, hot panic searing through him. When she went to pull away he felt his stomach plummet to his feet.

“N-no! No, Dove, I don’t-“ he looked through the house to make sure no one was around and once the coast was clear, he was pulling her off to the side. Into his home office, through the hallway, pulling her in there and closing the door. 

Her face was rightfully confused. He understood it. He was hot and cold and he wasn’t being fair to anyone. This was his problem. He was a selfish dick, he was a real prick, but he didn’t want to lose Y/N. “I don’t want this to be over.” He kept his voice low. “I-That isn’t what I meant by not responding.”

It was. But he changed his mind. 

Seeing her again had him crumbling like a fucking sandcastle that had dried out. 

“Well what did it mean?” She asked hesitantly, unsure where he was going with this. 

“I was busy. I was overwhelmed and I haven’t had a lot of time lately to decompress and when you asked me where this was going I got panicked because I don’t like the idea of not being with you.”

“Then break up with her.” Y/N said, as if it was that simple.

“I don’t want to break her heart. She’s a good woman.” He said quietly, blinking as he looked down at his desk. “I know it may not make sense to you but- I want you. I really, really want you and I’m trying to figure out how to do this. I’m just overwhelmed.” 

He hated himself for feeling the sting behind his eyes. He wasn’t a victim in any of this and he knew that, but everything felt like a lot. Though he didn’t let any of the welling tears fall because this wasn’t about him. He was the fuck up here. He couldn’t blame Y/N for this. He had started it.

“Harry- honey.” Y/N softened, a rare occasion as she caught the real anxiety bleeding through. “You aren’t doing her any favors if you want someone else. I hate to be blunt, but you’re jerking two people around. I’m not going to wait around and be a side piece forever.” To be fair, it hadn’t started that way. 

He’d fucked her the first two times when his girlfriend had asked for a break. It just hadn’t stopped. 

Harry had love for his girlfriend. He did. But it wasn’t what it was supposed to be. However he knew she’d been hurt before and he didn’t want to do it to her again. Like she could read his mind, Y/N continued. “All this is doing is hurting three people instead of one, Harry. I can put on a brave face and pretend it doesn’t bother me that the guy I’m seeing doesn’t want me at his house, doesn’t like me enough to be with only me, but I can’t do it forever. That woman also deserves better than someone who isn’t fully into her. She could have better.” She paused. “That sounds mean, but it’s true. You aren’t committed. Staying just to avoid pain will only cause more later”

Fuck her for being right. Fuck her for knowing what to say. 

And fuck him for wanting to cry. 

Harry hated how much he liked her, how much his body liked her. How much he dreamed of her, how he couldn’t let her go despite trying to keep his heart out of it. She was taking up so much of his thoughts that any efforts to rid them were futile.  It had been instantaneous the night they met, the connection. They’d been kissing 2 hours after they met, in her bed 4 hours after, and he stayed for 3 days straight. It was anything but casual no matter how hard he tried to frame it in his mind.

He just kept fucking up.

“I know.” He swallowed, feeling her hand leave his arm. “I don’t want to be doing this to you. I want to be with you, Y/N. I swear.”

“Then stop doing it to me. To us. You can be with me.” She said simply, looking over his face. She could see his glossy eyes, the slight tremble in his fingertips and it had her wanting to touch him. To comfort, despite the shit he was doing to her. It was a sickness, how desperately she wanted to be close to him. Like those damn magnets pulling them back to each other. “You can have me fully if I’m the only one.” 

Tilting her head to the side, she made a decision as she stepped closer to him and slowly raised an arm to rest over his shoulder. Fitting her body against his chest, she took his arm and wrapped it around her waist. “You can have all of me. Not just my body. You already have more than I ever wanted to give to a man that doesn’t worship the ground I walk on.” 

The problem was, he sort of did. He didn’t show it in the way he wanted to, but he was obsessed. It hurt to hear that, but he deserved that. He hadn’t given her real indication that she was his obsession when they weren’t fucking. She had no clue he stared at photos of her, that he bought things she mentioned in passing just to try them, that he had three separate playlists for her. The photos in the hidden folder of his phone where he’d taken them of her was his most used screen time. 

But he hadn’t been able to show her how badly he wanted her wrapped up in his bed, to drag her awake with soft kisses and gentle caresses, breakfast in bed like she deserved. All he fucking did was prove he was similar to the men who had already hurt her, and that was the worst thing he could have done.

“I’m sorry.” He said weakly. “I’m sorry for putting you through this. For putting her through this. I’m just- I want you so badly.” His voice quivered as he tried to express the thoughts but his brain was a wreck. “I don’t want to let anyone down. I know I already have. I fucking- I did this and fucked up. Not you- you’re never a fuck up. But I should have never agreed to get back together with her.” His head flopped down, laying his forehead against hers. “It was just habit. It’s what always happened. I wasn’t thinking and I trapped myself.”

Holding her felt so good it was almost ridiculous. Tension melted from his body as he held her tighter, lifting his face to kiss her forehead, like he had the right to. 

What was he doing? Why was he fighting the inevitable? He wanted Y/N. He’d wanted her since he saw her across the shitty bar top. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since. Even when he was with his girlfriend, all he could think of was her. They hadn’t fucked since he met Y/N because he quite literally couldn’t get it up for her. As pathetic as it sounded, his cock had made its decision before he had. 

“I don’t want to back you into a corner. You don’t have to pick me.” Y/N said honestly, though he could hear that she didn’t love that idea. “I don’t want to force this. As much as me coming here tonight was to fuck with you a little- I want you to be happy.”

Y/N was a hard read. Even now, he didn’t always know exactly what she was thinking- but it was better than before. The woman had always fascinated him, her brain something he wanted to explore, her smart mouth making him giddy- their chemistry took him off guard. He was the opposite of her. She was scrappy and a little mean, sarcastic and quiet- but he loved it. He loved their balance. 

Harry loved seeing the softer bits, bits that he’d only seen when they were all alone. The privilege of getting to see those wasn’t lost on him, but he also knew he had taken it for granted. He was a scared little boy, afraid of breaking hearts, of possibly losing two people though it had been over with the first a long time ago and should have stayed over. 

Especially when he met Y/N. She was his reason to move on.

“I want you.” It was said definitively, curling his other hand around her chin. “I… I’m being cruel. And it isn’t fair when I want you so badly that I can’t even have you here or I knew I’d break.”

The idea of her here had made him panic simply because he knew that he’d never be able to forget her there. Her image would be imprinted in his brain wherever she went. It would happen in here, anywhere she set foot. Like she belonged here. If he saw her in his bed, he’d always see her there. Her side would always be her side. If he saw her in his living room, he’d never be able to look at his sofa without seeing her laid out there. 

Y/N had started to invade every corner of his brain since he’d met her, and he didn’t see an end in sight. 

“I’m going to end it with her. Tonight.” He wasn’t going to go back on it. Something about seeing her exactly where he had always tried to avoid it had kicked something into place. “I want you, Y/N. I’m stupid, and I’ve done a lot of shit that I’m going to have to make up for but I can’t keep pretending like you don’t drive me fucking wild.” 

He’d never felt like this before and it was terrifying. Like his nerves were exposed, like he wasn’t able to keep his cool. Y/N had immediately turned him into a bit of a mess, taking some of the control he hadn’t known he had always had and shifting his world on its axis. 

The relationship he was in was comfortable. Familiar. On and off, yeah, but he’d been okay with that- until he met her. He couldn’t imagine being off with her. And maybe that should have been a clue. 

He loved his girlfriend but not in the way a man should love his partner. It was akin to friendship, wanting the best and not wanting to hurt her. He wanted to be there for her. But fabricating this relationship that way wasn’t fair to her and he shouldn’t do it just to keep her happy. 

Considering they hadn’t been intimate since before he’d even properly met Y/N, he was pretty sure she wasn’t all that happy either. 

Neither of them wanted to be alone and it worked for a while. But it wasn’t anymore, and that was something he needed to work on.

“It has to happen tonight, Harry. Or I’m not staying. I’m going to move on if it doesn’t because I deserve more than this…Than sneaking around. I want you to be proud to be with me.” 

She did. Hearing the slight unease in her voice had his chest squeezing tight. It really was now or never. He wasn’t going to fuck it up again. Maybe he was selfish- he knew he was, now- but he wanted Y/N more than he’d ever wanted anything else. It was time to stop fucking around, to grow the fuck up and be a man. Give Y/N what she needed and be the man she needed to be. The one she deserved. 

At the end of the day, he had always wanted to be that. He had wanted to get her flowers, wanted to take her to see the movies, to lounge lazily every weekend without having to stress out about excuses. He wanted to give her every lick of his attention, to be with her without the anxiety looming over him. 

It was going to take time to prove he could do it, but he knew she was worth every single second. 

“I’m doing it, Dove.” He whispered, tilting her face up to him and catching her lips. Chaste and soft, he didn’t move it towards the territory it always went. 

After this, he could have every type of kiss. The slow, the soft, the sweet, the ones that didn’t lead to sex. There would be no more ‘leading her on’ because he was hers.

Harry had been hers for a long, long time. 

“I want to be yours, Y/N.  I’m going to make it happen. After the party I’m going to have a chat with her. Be honest and say I met someone and I really fucking like her… Tell her we’ve been wasting our time. She deserves someone who wants her in more ways than an obligation.” It was harsh, but true. He cared about his girlfriend- but not in the way, or as much as he cared about Y/N.

“Okay.” She whispered against his lips, giving a hesitant smile. “Will you come over after you do it?”

“I’ll do anything for you, Dove. I’ve been yours longer than you could imagine.”

[daylightmidnights]

Sunday Softies Series: Worth Waiting For ✨

CW: None

A/N: I have been doing this series for a little bit but just now making it official, every Sunday you’ll get a little fluffy blurb so we can end/start the week on a fluffy note and I’m calling it Sunday Softies! ✨

Word Count: 1.1K

Tag List: @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @blckburd @triski73 @mema10 @angeldavis777 @maudie-duan @mads3502

Summary: Harry doesn’t mind waiting, as long as it’s you he’s waiting on✨

Harry smiles as he watches people walk by talking amongst themselves without a care in the world, having no clue that he’s been sitting on this bench for fifteen minutes with his phone in his hand and your voice talking in his ear through his headphones. The two of you having agreed to meet here before heading to lunch but as usual you’re running late, but luckily for Harry he’s come to expect this sort of thing from you so he just gets comfortable and waits. He lets out a chuckle as he looks down at his phone and sees you walking past a fountain that lets him know you’re nearly half way to the bench he’s sitting on.

“I don’t know how it happened really.” Your voice is full of surprise as it filters through his headphones. “I mean one minute I’m putting my shoes on and then next thing you know I’m changing outfits and can’t find my wallet.” You explain with a huff while Harry just nods and smiles as you go over the reason why you’re running a little behind schedule, he knows how a last minute outfit change can turn into a full on half hour long ordeal with you that sometimes even causes a hair style update as well, having seen it first hand many times from his usual spot on the edge of the bed fully dressed and ready to go.

“Did the shoes not go with the original outfit?”

“They did-I just didn’t like how my earrings looked with it so then I thought maybe just change the shirt and keep the jeans but then I remembered I just bought that new sundress last weekend and-”

“The floral one?” He asks with a quirked brow hoping he guessed correctly but when he watches you pause mid step and look at him through the phone with the corners of your mouth tilted down he quickly knows he indeed did not and his mind is already trying to think of ways to hopefully avoid the mini meltdown this misstep has the potential to cause.

“No it’s the black with polka dots-did you like the floral one better? I knew I should’ve picked that one it’s summer of course you like the one with flowers that-”

“Baby.” His voice has you stopping mid ramble, your eyes lock with his through the screen and he can see your chest moving rapidly as you try to catch your breath after spewing so many words in one go. “I love you-doesn’t matter what you have on as long as it’s you wearing it I know I’ll love it.” His words ease the tension you feel in your shoulders and has a heavy sigh slipping past your lips and Harry takes it as a good sign when he sees you start walking again, ultimately getting closer and closer to where he’s still sat, waiting for you.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with me for so long.” You joke but Harry knows when you say things like that you’re only partially joking because you’ve mentioned it before how you don’t understand how someone so put together can tolerate being with someone who doesn’t even know where her phone is half the time. But Harry never hesitates to correct you, never lets you sit in that mind frame for long, he just smiles at you, a smile that makes all the messy parts of your life fade away so all you see is him before he says something that has your heart melting into a puddle at your feet.

“You’re not something I put up with sweetheart-you’re the person that makes everything worth it…the one who brings sunshine to my otherwise very cloudy days…wouldn’t want to do life with anyone else.” The words roll effortlessly off his tongue as if he’s said them a thousands times and in someway he has, always wanting to make sure you understand that even though you may run late sometimes and be one of the most forgetful people he’s ever met, you’re still the one he loves more than anyone or anything.

“So you’re not upset that I made you sit on that uncomfortable bench and wait for me?” You ask with glassy eyes and as Harry looks at the background behind you he sees a familiar tree making him look up and the grin that spreads across his face when he sees you only a short distance away makes you want to cry at how pretty he looks with his dimples and bright eyes.

Harry quickly stands up and ends the FaceTime call with you before taking out his headphones and sliding them and his phone into his back pocket. You walk a few steps towards him but before you can reach the bench he’s closing the distance and placing his hands on either side of your face and leaning down so his forehead is gently resting against yours.

“You’ll always be worth waiting for.” He whispers before his presses his lips to yours for a sweet kiss that has you smiling when he pulls away. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiles as he steps back and lets his hands drop from your face.

“Ready for lunch?” You just nod as he grabs your hand and starts walking you towards the little cafe the two of you frequent. “You look beautiful.” He reassures you with a squeeze to your hand as you feel your cheeks get warm from his eyes quickly roaming over your frame before turning back to watch the pathway in front of him.

“Thank you…this is just a little something I threw on before leaving the house…didn’t take me long to get ready at all actually.” You tell him with as much of a straight face as you can muster, but it’s when you give him a casual shrug that makes Harry let out a laugh as you reach over and grab onto his arm, leaning into him as the two of you cross the street.

Harry can’t help but smile as he looks over at you, the woman he feels lucky enough to call his that also just so happens to be a little bit scatter brained and a tiny bit forgetful. The one who he writes little reminders for when he knows you have a big meeting or event planned so you don’t forget the little things like your wallet or keys because he knows you’re going to be rushing around like a tornado. The one who he calls ten times in a row from his office on Monday mornings because he knows you always forget to turn your alarm on after the weekend, the one that makes him smile when he sees your lipstick stain on his coffee mug because you needed just a quick sip before rushing off to go meet someone for something that you say in such a hurry he can’t really understand you. But most importantly the one he would spend days sitting on a bench waiting for because he knows the joy he’ll get when he does finally get to see you will make every minute worth it, because no one makes him as happy as you and no one ever will.

[daylightmidnights]

So so so good. I especially liked how the story progressed, how and in which order things happened. It was very natural. It didn't feel over the top. They weren't overreacting. Everything happened like it would to any normal person. Their initial dynamic, then harry saying the truth, her denial, their dynamic shift after that, the indifference from and the hurt feelings of her, the angst, then casually slipping back into their initial dynamic and banters then confessing....none of it seemed dramatic. It was just right. I'm so happy with the writing. I can't explain this. Often when I'm reading something like this, enemies to lovers....it gets hard for me to continue because the way things happen in them doesn't feel natural all the time. So this one was really really nice to read

SWORN ENEMIES

A/N: i know its only august but i've been starting to feel the fall vibes and for me those mean college fics, so i had to write something to ease into the mood

WORD COUNT: 8.3k

SUMMARY: Y/N and Harry are sworn enemies, have always been. The teasing and banter just never stops when they are in the same room. One bet however turn things around and while Harry thought they were on the same page, he realizes that Y/N's denial is deeper than he thought.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Y/N adjusts the stack of textbooks on the corner of the worn oak table, her pen hovering over her notebook. Eyebrows furrowed, she is focused on the paragraph she’s been trying to understand, her leg gently bouncing underneath the table. She jots down a few more notes and leans back in her seat, turning towards the window. It’s only September, but the leaves are already turning golden and auburn outside. The weather is still warm, but not summery anymore, she needed a cardigan when she left her dorm. 

She turns her attention back to the book, moving onto the next chapter just as she notices a figure approaching her table, then the chair across her scrapes the floor. Y/N looks up, but she already knows who it’s going to be.

“Really?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “All these empty tables, and you pick this one?”

Harry grins, shrugging, and drops his backpack onto the floor. 

“Closest to the history section,” he says smoothly, nodding toward the shelves right next to her. “I like to minimize steps. Efficiency.”

“What a sports man,” she grumbles, looking down at her notebook. “Can’t walk an extra three meters.”

“Need to save my energy for practice,” he says in all seriousness as he sits. “And this table has the best view,” he then adds, gesturing towards the window, but Y/N just rolls her eyes, that breaks his act, a pleased smile stretching across his face as he grabs his own notebook from his backpack. And Y/N is bracing herself to try her best to ignore his presence. 

Which is quite hard. Harry Styles is anything but ignorable. He is tall, cheeky, popular and liked by practically everyone. Captain of the football team, because of course he needs to be the cliché he started to turn into in high school. Y/N witnessed it all, they were classmates all through high school and somewhere along their journey of turning from teens to young adults, they clashed. Maybe it’s because all they kept hearing growing up was comparison.

Y/N, let loose a little, be more fun, like Harry.

Harry, you should learn to be more organized from Y/N.

Y/N, sports are just as important as good grades, look at Harry! He is doing them both!

Harry, you need to decide where your head is at. Like Y/N did.

They practically set them up to be sworn enemies without any real confrontation and when they found out they would be coming to the same college, they carried their dynamic with themselves. 

For a little while they tolerate each other’s presence, but then slowly and not surprisingly, Harry starts to get on Y/N’s nerves. With the way he clicks his pen, taps on the table, turns the pages or keeps clearing his throat when he obviously doesn’t have to. 

“Are you on crack or something?” she whispers at him when he has changed his position for the millionth time, making her lose her train of thoughts.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I bothering you?” he asks, pretending to be concerned. Y/N narrows her eyes at him, her whisper sharper than she intends.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

Harry leans back, hands behind his head, looking completely innocent or at least he’s selling it perfectly. 

“Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “I had no idea I was such a menace. Should I stop breathing too?”

She gives him a not at all friendly smile.

“Thanks for suggesting. That would be great.”

He grins, unbothered, and reaches over to tap the edge of her notebook with a finger, just enough to make confused about what he is onto.

“I’m actually just keeping you alert so you don’t fall asleep on your neat little notebook.”

“How noble of you,” she frowns and then goes back to reading or at least pretending, because it’s hard to focus when Harry is still in his peripheral vision, slowly crawling into her thoughts. 

His phone buzzes and Y/N’s gaze flicks up as he pulls it out of his pocket and reads a text. Then he closes the book in front of him and stands from the table.

“That was a short study session,” she mumbles under her breath. Harry puts the book back on the shelf, grabbing his backpack from the floor.

“Aw, are you worried about my grades?” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, looking down at her with a pleased smirk that just irks her even more. “Don’t worry. I’m still good, better than you.”

“You wish,” she scoffs.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Y/N,” he chuckles and then walks away before she could retort. 

***

By the end of September the weather gradually cooled down and the true autumn vibes have settled over the campus. It’s a gloomy Thursday morning when Y/N is sitting in the lecture hall, her eyes roaming over her notes from last week. 

Harry strolls in two minutes before class starts, casual as ever, a grin thrown to someone across the room. He drops into the seat beside Y/N like he owns it. Even though they don’t share a major, they ended up taking the same psychology class for extra credit.

“Really?” she mutters, not even looking at him. “You couldn’t sit literally anywhere else?”

“This is a sweet spot,” he replies easily, pulling out his notebook. “Close enough to hear, far enough not to look desperate.” 

“Have you missed all the other open seats in the row?”

“Oh, I don’t miss anything, ever,” he grins at her just when the professor walks in and the lecture starts. 

They are actually interested in Professor Gautier’s class, so their bickering is paused and they both give their undivided attention to today’s topic.

“So, who can explain the significance of this concept in real-world applications?” the professor questions.

Y/N’s hand shoots up immediately. But at the exact same moment, Harry answers out loud without waiting to be called on.

“It’s about adaptability,” he says. “Theory is useless unless you can apply it to actual situations.”

“Yes, exactly,” the professor nods. 

“You didn’t even raise your hand,” Y/N complains quietly.

“Didn’t need to.” He smirks. “Got the answer right though, didn’t I?”

“Barely,” she snaps, raising her hand again. “Actually, if you look at it from a structural perspective–”

And just like that, they’re in a back-and-forth game again, building on and undermining each other’s points while the rest of the class watches in amusement.

Finally, the professor cuts in with a chuckle. 

“Well, I think we’ve just witnessed a live debate. Thank you both. Perhaps I should pair you together next time. It seems you bring… passion out of each other in arguments.”

The class laughs. Y/N wants to sink into the floor but Harry just leans back in his chair, satisfied, whispering: “See? We make a great team.”

“Over my dead body,” she hisses back.

Harry chuckles at how easily he can get a rise out of her. Then the class continues and Y/N ignores his presence until it’s over. She packs her stuff, feeling his amused gaze on her and then marches out of the room without even sparing him a look. 

***

The house is packed, music pounding through the walls, the smell of beer and sweat in the air. Y/N is already regretting saying yes the moment she squeezes through the front door.

“How long are you planning to stay?” she asks her roommate, Tilda, who's been bugging her for weeks now to join her for a party, but Y/N did everything she could to get her out of it, until yesterday when Tilda practically cornered her and forced her to say she would come. 

“We barely just got here. Relax, try to enjoy it!”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but this is not my style of relaxation.”

“Okay then we’ll do your version tomorrow, but today, we are letting loose!”

Unwillingly, but she tries her best to at least give it a go, not wanting to be the miserable party pooper. They grab a drink, look around, meet up with people they know from different classes and lectures and slowly Y/N eases into the whole party thing. 

Then her peace is flipped over by Harry.

He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, red cup in hand, surrounded by people who are laughing at something one of his friends just said. When his eyes land on her, his grin shifts, sharp and smug, like he’s been handed a gift. He pushes through the crowd easily, towering over everyone until he’s right in front of her. 

“Well, this is a surprise,” he says, voice raised just enough to be heard over the music. “Did someone lose a bet?”

Y/N crosses her arms over her chest. 

“I don’t need a bet to come to a party,” she scoffs, keeping the tiny detail to herself that she was practically dragged here by Tilda.

“Ah, or maybe you just wanted to see me!” His grin widens even more.

“Not everything has to be about you.”

“But when it comes to you, I know your world revolves around me. It’s okay, I get it that you want to be like me, academically and athletically gifted, I’m the whole package.”

“A package I want to return to the sender,” she grimaces at him, but her retort just makes him laugh. 

“Someone is in a bitter mood. I would bet a great amount that you’ll be leaving in an hour.”

“Maybe you should go to therapy about your gambling addiction. And that’s not happening. I’m here to have fun.”

“I don’t think you can do that. Not here, in a frat party,” he keeps teasing her, taking a sip from his drink. 

“Really? You must know me so well then,” she gives him a sharp look. “Want to actually bet?” she suddenly challenges him and that brings a glint into his eyes.

“Alright, what do you have in your mind?”

“I bet you I will stay for at least two hours and actually let loose.”

“Make it three.”

“Okay, then three,” she agrees with an eyeroll.

“What does the winner get?” he cocks his head to the side. Y/N thinks to herself for a moment before answering. 

“If I win you leave me alone at Professor Gautier’s lecture for the rest of the semester. You can’t sit next to me, can’t talk to me.”

Harry smirks, leaning closer so she has to tilt her chin up to keep eye contact. 

“Fine. And when I win–”

“You mean if,” she cuts in.

“When,” he repeats firmly, eyes glinting, “you have to come to every party I go to for the rest of the semester.”

Y/N scoffs, but her pulse jumps, she wasn’t expecting that. 

“Why would you want that?”

Harry shrugs. “Guess I just want to make you suffer.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Scared you’ll lose?” His grin turns mischievous, knowing he’s cornered her.

She narrows her eyes. “I’m not scared of you, Styles.”

“Then it’s settled.” He clinks his red cup lightly against hers like they’ve just signed a contract, before backing away into the crowd, still smirking.

Y/N glares at his retreating figure, the crowd swallowing him back up like he owns the place. She takes a long sip of her drink, muttering under her breath, “Arrogant son of a bitch.”

But her heart is racing faster than it should be.

Three hours. That’s all she has to last and then she can rub it into Harry’s face until the end of time. 

It’s been maybe forty minutes, though it feels like an eternity of shouting over music, dodging spilled drinks, and politely refusing to play beer pong, when Y/N feels a presence at her side. 

“Still alive?” Harry’s voice cuts through the noise, smooth and teasing. He leans against the wall next to her, casual in that way that makes her want to roll her eyes and… maybe stare a little too long.

“I’m thriving, actually,” she shoots back, tightening her grip on her cup. “You’re going to lose this bet. I can already see you sitting across the room in class.”

Harry’s lips curl into a smirk as his eyes scan her in a way that makes her shift uncomfortably. 

“You call standing in the corner thriving? Hate to break it to you, but you look about two seconds from bolting.”

“I’m just having a break, thinking about whether I should play beer pong or join the never have I ever circle.”

She works hard not to sound sarcastic, she really does, but she is not fooling Harry.

“Really? Because I think I heard them needing one more person for the next beer pong match. Come on, you can join them!”

Her eyes widen and she replies out of instinct. “Absolutely not.”

Harry raises a brow, his grin spreading slow and wicked. 

“What happened to letting loose? You’re already halfway to losing, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart.”

“Fine. Darling. Take your pick,” he teases, and when she opens her mouth to snap back, he suddenly takes her hand before she can protest.

“Harry–” she hisses, but he’s already steering her through the crowd toward the beer pong table.

“Relax,” he says over his shoulder, fully unfazed by the glares from people they squeeze past. “You might even be good at it. All that precision you’ve got from underlining every single word in your textbooks…”

“I do not underline every word.”

“Sure,” he smirks, stopping at the table and nodding at the guys waiting to start. “Got you a partner.”

The group cheers, and before Y/N could object, someone shoves a ping pong ball into her hand. Harry leans down, his mouth just inches from her ear.

“Show me what you’ve got, Darling.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she narrows her eyes at him, giving him a sharp look over her shoulder.

“Maybe,” he says simply, leaning back with that infuriating grin.

And with that, he steps aside, folding his arms to watch her like it’s the most entertaining thing he’s seen all night.

Y/N narrows her eyes at the table of red cups lined up like little soldiers. She’s never touched a beer pong ball in her life, but she refuses to let Harry see her squirm.

She takes aim, tongue poking through her lips in concentration, and lets the ball fly. It lands cleanly in the very first cup.

The table erupts with cheers, and Harry’s brows shoot up in mock surprise, while Y/N is actually shocked she made it with her first throw.

“You’re a natural, Y/N,” he teases her. She smirks with a shrug.

“Beginner’s luck.”

The game goes on, and to her own shock, she’s not terrible. Every miss makes her groan and every hit earns her a triumphant grin. Each time her team loses a round, she takes her turn drinking the foamy beer. It’s not good, kinda lukewarm, tastes cheap but after the second cup she can feel the effect.

By the fourth round, she’s laughing, genuinely laughing, shoulders looser than they’ve been in weeks. Her head is spinning just a little, but it actually feels nice. 

Harry, of course, doesn’t miss a thing. He leans against the table, arms crossed, watching her like she’s a puzzle finally clicking into place. 

“Look at you,” he says, grinning. “Didn’t think I’d see the day when Y/N Y/L/N is getting drunk at a frat party and actually enjoys it.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, brushing past him to retrieve a ball. “I’m still winning this bet.”

“Sure you are,” he chuckles softly.

Y/N and her partner end up winning the game. Following a bathroom break she reunites with Tilda, who welcomes this loosened up, carefree version of Y/N and the two of them join a bigger group outside. 

Next time Y/N checks her phone she almost chokes on her drink. Three hours. Exactly three hours.

She did it.

She instantly rushes inside and pushes through the crowd, looking for Harry. She finds him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with some of his teammates. He looks effortlessly at home here, tall and commanding, but when his eyes flick across the room and land on her, his grin shifts. Turns sharper, like it was meant only for her.

She squares her shoulders and marches over, ignoring the flutter in her chest.

“Three hours,” she declares, holding her phone up like it’s evidence in a courtroom. “I win.”

Harry takes one look at her phone, then at her flushed face.

“Hm, you’re right.”

“Yes,” she says firmly, even though her voice wavers just a bit. “I stayed, I had fun, I even played beer pong–”

“And laughed,” he cuts in smoothly, stepping closer. “Don’t forget that part.” She glares at him, but ignores his comment.

“So, we’re done, right?”

He tilts his head, that infuriating smirk back in place.

“The deal was you let loose. You sure you weren’t just… pretending to prove me wrong?”

Her jaw drops. “Are you seriously trying to cheat your way out of this?”

“Not at all.” His voice dips lower. “I just want you to admit you had a good time. Otherwise I win and then I can enjoy your company at every party until the end of the semester.”

“You’re being unfair,” she argues, heat crawling up her neck. Maybe it’s from the alcohol, maybe it’s from Harry’s closeness, she can’t tell.

“It’s okay, you can admit you actually want me to win so you can spend more time with me.”

“You’re delusional,” she fires back. “Why would I ever want that?”

Harry just grins, unbothered. “Because deep down, you like me.”

She lets out a sharp laugh, a little too high-pitched to be convincing.

“I tolerate you. Barely. Don’t twist that into some kind of fantasy where I’m desperate to hang out with you.”

“Mm.” He leans back slightly, sipping his drink, eyes still fixed on her. “So you stayed three whole hours at a frat party, putting up with the crowd, the noise, the drunk people, and it had nothing to do with me.”

“Exactly,” she says quickly. Maybe too quickly. “I can have fun without you, Styles.”

“Then why are you so red right now?” he teases, leaning in again, his grin straight up devilish.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out and that just gets her even more flustered.

“You’re an asshole,” is all she says before turning around and marching through the people, towards the front door. 

She doesn’t have to stay any longer. She doesn’t want to. Not if Harry will just keep making her feel uncomfortable. 

“Y/N, wait!”

She’s halfway down the front steps when she hears him call out behind her. She doesn’t stop, but his longer strides catch up easily.

“Go away, Harry.”

“Come on,” he says, a little out of breath as he moves in front of her, blocking her path. The cocky grin is gone now, replaced by something softer. “I didn’t mean to push too far.”

She crosses her arms, staring him down. “You always push too far.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair, frustration flashing across his face.

“Alright, fine. Maybe I do. But that’s because…” He hesitates, then looks at her, really looks at her. “Because we have… something. You feel it too, don’t even try to deny it.”

Her stomach flips violently, but she scoffs, stepping to the side.

“You are out of your mind. There’s nothing between us except mutual annoyance.”

Harry shifts, moving with her, refusing to let her dodge the conversation. His voice lowers, more serious than she’s ever heard from him.

“If that’s true, then why do we always end up here? Why do you always get so worked up when I tease you? Why do you even care what I think?”

“I don’t!” she snaps, though the heat rising in her chest betrays her.

His eyes linger on her, searching, almost pleading for her to admit it. But when she doesn’t, when she just presses her lips together stubbornly, he huffs out a humorless laugh and steps back.

“Fine,” he says, jaw tightening. “Keep lying to yourself.”

And with that, he turns and walks back toward the party, leaving Y/N standing in the cool night air, pulse racing, his words echoing in her head long after he disappears inside.

***

Harry has lost his mind. Y/N is sure of that.

Why would he ever think they have anything between them? That is absolutely ridiculous. They are sworn enemies. They hate each other, with passion, have always hated each other. 

There’s no other explanation to what he said other than that he is going crazy.

She is lying in her bed awake when Tilda arrives sometime around two am.

“Hey, you’re still up? Thought you’d already be snoring,” she jokes, kicking her shoes off as Y/N sits up.

“No, can’t sleep.”

“When did you leave?” she asks. Y/N texted her when she was already in the dorm just so she wouldn’t look for her.

“After like one, maybe?”

“That’s great! Did you have fun?”

“I guess,” Y/N shrugs. Tilda sits on the edge of her bed, examining her curiously.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to combust?”

Y/N presses her palms to her face, muffling her groan.

“Because Harry Styles is the most infuriating human being alive.”

“Ohhh.” Tilda leans forward, eyes glinting with interest. “What did he do this time? Tease you about your color-coded notes again? Try to get you to dance?”

Y/N drops her hands and glares.

“He implied that there’s… something between us.”

Tilda blinks back at her like she sees no problem at all about that.

“But… there is,” she points it out.

“No, there isn’t!” Y/N insists, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at her. Tilda catches it with a laugh. “We’ve hated each other since high school. He thrives on having the upper hand, and I–” she gestures vaguely at herself, still breathless from the memory of him standing so close “--I’m not falling for it, unlike everyone else.”

Tilda smiles at her, but it screams that she doesn’t believe her bullshit.

“You only get this worked up about him. Tell me, if it’s really just hate, why do you let him get under your skin so much?”

Y/N groans again, flopping back against her bed. 

“Because he’s everywhere! Same classes, same campus, and now apparently determined to make my life hell at parties.”

“Mmhm,” Tilda hums knowingly. “Sounds more like chemistry than hell.”

“Stop.” Y/N throws her arm over her face. “It’s not chemistry. It’s… static. Annoying, buzzing static. The kind you want to shut off.”

Tilda just grins, clearly unconvinced. “If you say so.”

But when the room falls quiet again, Y/N can’t stop hearing Harry’s voice in her head, low and certain: You feel it too, don’t even try to deny it.

She rolls over, determined to push it away. Except her racing pulse refuses to settle.

***

Next Thursday, Y/N is already settled in her usual seat, notebook open, pen lined up neatly along the margin, today’s date already written on top of the page. It’s been almost a week since the party and also since she has talked to Harry.

So when he walks in, she feels her gaze pulled towards him like he is a magnet. 

Harry strolls in just a few minutes before the start as usual. He does look at her. Briefly. His gaze brushes hers for half a second before he heads straight for a seat three rows back, nowhere near her.

Exactly like she told him to during the bet.

She should feel relieved. She should be happy he’s finally giving her space, that he’s not sitting down right beside her to annoy her by tapping his pen on his notebook or kicking her feet under the table just to throw her off. But instead, her stomach twists uncomfortably.

It sinks in a little heavier, the things he told her that she hasn’t been able to get out of her head ever since. It’s been probably the longest they went without any interaction. No smirks in the hallway, no sarcastic remarks in class, not even an accidental run-in in the library.

But this is exactly what she wanted, right? To have some peace. So then why does it feel like something’s missing? 

Her eyes flick back to him against her better judgment. He’s slouched in his chair, pen spinning lazily between his fingers, focused on anything but her. Like she doesn’t exist.

It bothers her. Way more than it should.

Y/N forces herself to look down at her notes again just when Professor Gautier walks in. 

She’s not hurt. Not at all. This is what she wanted. So then why does it feel like she’s losing a game she never agreed to play?

***

There are several coffee places on and near campus, but the one next to the pilates studio is the best in Y/N’s opinion. Or maybe she is just biased, because after a killer class she likes to treat herself to a coffee and the place next door is the closest. It has become her Sunday ritual to attend the ten am class and then grab the coffee of the week from Chestnut Corner and either sit outside if the weather is nice enough or read a little inside before heading home. 

By now she is a regular, so when she strolls in, wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, the barista, Alex is greeting him with a smile while already making her order. 

“How was class?” he asks her as she walks up to the counter.

“Tiring, but good,” she chuckles. “What’s this week’s drink?” she asks, peering over the counter so she could see what he puts into it.

“Pumpkin Chai Cappuccino,” Alex announces as he places the mug in front of her.

“Wow, this smells amazing,” she hums as she taps her phone on the terminal, then digs into her bag and grabs a bit of change, dropping it into the tip jar.

“Reserved a table for you outside,” Alex nods at her with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” she returns the smile and taking her drink she heads outside. 

It’s a warm noon, a little windy, but not too much, it’s even nice after sweating for an entire hour in class. She settles by the table Alex claimed as hers, rolls the sleeves of her sweatshirt up and just enjoys the sunshine while sipping on her drink, mentally trying to note what else she needs to get done today. 

She is halfway done with her drink when Alex appears, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Mind if I sit for a sec?” he asks, already pulling out the chair opposite her.

“Sure,” she says with a shrug, though it surprises her. Alex has always been nice, but he usually just sticks to his role behind the counter.

“So,” he leans forward, elbows on the table, “I was thinking… You come here every Sunday, and we always talk a little, but maybe we should actually hang out? Dinner sometime?”

Y/N blinks, caught off guard, her fingers tightening around the warm mug. Alex is cute, charming, definitely the type plenty of girls would say yes to without hesitation. She opens her mouth, still trying to decide what’s about to come out, when Alex spots someone approaching somewhere behind her, so he nods their way.

“Hi there! I’ll be inside in a minute.”

Y/N turns and sees Harry walking up to the café, he is in sweats, hair damp, he is carrying a big sports bag so he must be coming from practice. Their eyes meet for a second and while her breath hitches, he appears completely unbothered and neutral about her presence. 

“It’s alright, I’m in no rush. What’s up?” he asks, stopping by the table.

“Just trying to chat Y/N up,” Alex chuckles. “Asked her out to dinner.”

“Huh, that’s nice,” is all he says, but he doesn’t even look at her. That annoys her. His reaction and the lack of interest on his face. 

“I would love to go out with you,” she then says, maybe a little too enthusiastically, but Alex’s face brightens at her answer.

“Really? That’s great! How about Wednesday?”

“Sure, that’s great,” she nods and keeps glancing at Harry, who is now on his phone, looking like he is not even paying attention to them.

She hates how infuriating that makes her.

Alex asks for her number to work the details out over text and hands her his phone. She quickly types her number in and then gives it back to him as he stands from the table.

“Amazing. I’ll text you then. Harry, your americano is coming right up,” he points at Harry, who finally looks up from his phone, nodding.

“Thanks.”

Alex jogs back inside, practically jumping in happiness and Harry is about to head after him, but Y/N stops him suddenly.

“Wait.”

Harry pauses, one eyebrow lifting as he shifts the strap of his sports bag higher on his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

Y/N swallows, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous she must sound, but the words tumble out anyway. “That’s it? No comment, no… nothing?”

His brow furrows, like he has no idea what she’s talking about. 

“About what?”

“You just heard him ask me out.” Her voice drops, sharper than she intends. “And you’re acting like you don’t care.”

“I don’t,” he says simply, but there’s a flicker in his eyes she doesn’t miss, something quick and guarded. “Why would I? You can go out with whoever you want, Y/N.”

“Yeah but… Not even a joke?” she asks with her last sliver of hope.

Harry sighs, looks away, then back at her.

“No,” is all he says and walks inside, leaving Y/N stunned and at a loss for words. 

Her thoughts are racing and her mind is blank at the same time. She can’t decide what to think of it, of his nonchalant act, the lack of interest towards… her. 

She is still in a bit of a shock when Harry walks out with his coffee in hand. He walks straight past her and then starts walking towards the campus. Before she could even think twice, she jumps to her feet, her drink abandoned and she rushes to catch up with him.

“Styles! What was that?” she asks once she falls into steps with him. 

“What do you mean?” he asks in an even tone, taking a sip from his coffee, not looking her way.

“You’re ignoring my existence, what the Hell?”

“I’m not ignoring your existence, Y/N. I’m giving you your much wanted peace. Isn’t it what you wanted?”

“That’s not– I don’t…” 

Harry stops and finally looks at her.

“You want me to make a joke, tease you, pick a fight, because that’s safer than me actually saying what’s on my mind.” He shakes his head, a humorless laugh slipping out. “And the second I don’t play along, you freak out.”

Her heart hammers against her ribs. 

“That’s not true.”

His eyes soften, but there’s something raw there too. “Isn’t it?”

She opens her mouth, but no words come. Because deep down, she knows he’s not entirely wrong. Harry lets out a breath, his jaw flexing as he starts to turn away again. 

“Enjoy your date, Y/N.”

And before she can find her voice, he’s walking off again, leaving her standing on the sidewalk with her pulse racing and her chest aching like she’s the one who just lost a bet.

***

The restaurant Alex picks is cute, a small Italian place a few blocks from campus. Candles on every table, low music, the kind of place Y/N would usually find charming. 

Alex is… fine. He’s attentive, asks about her classes, tells her funny stories about ridiculous customer orders at the café. He’s polite, his smile soft and friendly and she keeps telling herself this is nice. Normal. What she should want.

And yet…

She laughs at one of his jokes, but even as the sound leaves her mouth, she hears Harry’s laugh echoing in her head. The way he’d lean back, eyes sparkling, like he knew he was ridiculous and dared her not to find him funny. That would make her laugh even more, enjoying the banter she complains so much about.

She shakes the thought away, takes another sip of her lemonade.

“So,” Alex says, leaning forward slightly, “are you from around here originally, or did you move for school?”

“Moved,” she answers automatically, launching into the story she’s told dozens of times. He listens, nods, asks a follow-up question. Perfect date behavior.

And still, it feels like something’s missing. Like there’s a spark she’s waiting for that never comes.

When the waiter clears their table and Alex pays, strictly refusing to let Y/N cover her half, he gives her an easy smile over the dancing flame of the candle.

I’m really glad you said yes. Been wanting to ask you for a while.”

Her stomach twists, not unpleasantly, but not the way she wants, either. She forces a smile. 

“It was nice.”

He offers to walk her to her dorm. She lets him, because it’s sweet, and when they stop at the steps, there’s a beat of silence. He shifts, looking nervous but hopeful.

“Can I… kiss you goodnight?”

Y/N hesitates for a second, but then nods at last.

The kiss is soft, a little too bland for her taste. Nice. But that’s all, it’s just nice. When they part, Alex looks pleased and she manages another smile before saying goodnight and heading inside.

The second the door closes behind her, her heart sinks. Because instead of replaying the kiss in her head, she’s thinking about a smirk, green eyes, and a voice that always manages to get under her skin.

***

Y/N slips into the library late in the afternoon, already stressed about the mountain of readings she needs to get through. She heads straight to her favorite table and just as she sets her bag down, unpacking her notebooks and pens, she spots an all too familiar figure a few tables away.

Harry is hunched over the table, curls messy, his feet gently shaking underneath the table. And he is not alone.

Y/N has seen Mila around, they had a couple of classes together last year, but she doesn’t actually know her. Only knows that she moves in the same circles as Harry, but seeing them right now, she realizes they might be closer than she thought.

Mila sits beside him, their chairs pushed close, a heavy textbook sprawled between them. They’re both leaning over it, Harry pointing something out with his pen, Mila smiling as she nods along.

Y/N doesn’t miss the way her stomach tightens.

She sits and finds the chapter she left off, but no matter how badly she tries to focus on the words in front of her, her gaze always ends up slipping over to them. 

Every time Mila leans in, Y/N’s pen stills in her hand. Every time Harry grins at something she says, heat creeps up Y/N’s neck. It’s ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. She tells herself it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care who Harry studies with. She doesn’t care if Mila laughs at his stupid jokes, or if Harry lets her sit closer than strictly necessary.

But the tightness in her chest doesn’t budge.

At some point, Harry leans back in his chair, stretching, and his eyes flick across the room. For one split second, they land on her. Y/N freezes, like a deer caught in headlights. She expects him to smirk, or wave, or toss out some teasing remark like always. Instead, he just blinks, expression unreadable, and then turns back to Mila without a word.

It’s a knife in her stomach.

She forces her attention back to her notes, but the pen doesn’t move in her hand, she just stares ahead of her, the words blurring into one big mess. Then she hears Mila’s muffled giggle and it’s the last straw.

She packs up in a hurry, shoves everything into her bag, not even caring if she rumples the pages and then bolts towards the exit, almost tripping in her own feet. When she reaches the heavy doors of the library she stops just for a short second, eyes jumping back to him, only to find him looking at her already. 

The blandness is gone from his eyes, but she can’t read them. There’s something in them, something beyond the nonchalantness she’s been getting from him, but it’s not loud enough for her to make it out. 

She breaks her gaze away and pushes the door open, fleeing from the library that felt more like Hell this time. On her way back to the dorm she can’t stop recalling the feeling in her gut the sight of Harry and Mila caused and she always ends up with the same conclusion, one she chooses not to acknowledge just yet.

***

Y/N steps out of building D with a heavy sigh. This study session for her economy class stretched way too long, group projects where they can’t find common ground are too draining, she thinks to herself as she starts walking towards the dorm. 

On her right the doors to the gym open and Harry walks out, hair damp, drinking from his water bottle and he heads down the pavement that meets the one she is walking on. They lock eyes for a second, but she is quick to look away and set the tone for their encounter, which is going to be quiet, just like everything else between them lately.

The rain starts without warning, fat drops smacking against the pavement, then a full-on downpour. Y/N curses under her breath, pulling her bag tighter to her side as she starts jogging. Beside her, Harry does the same, his long strides catching up easily. Neither of them says a word, just racing down the pavement  until they spot the small gazebo near the fountain.

They duck under the roof at the same time, breathless, Y/N shaking the water out of her hair while Harry drops his sports bag to the ground with a thud. For a moment, the only sound is the rain hammering against the wood and concrete.

“Great,” Y/N mutters, brushing at her damp sweatshirt. “Just what I needed.”

Harry smirks, leaning against one of the posts, his curls plastered to his forehead.

“What, are you afraid of thunder?”

She shoots him a glare.  “You’re not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” He chuckles softly, then tilts his head at her. “What are you doing out this late anyway? Thought you were the type to be in bed by ten with chamomile tea.”

“Group project study session,” she answers. “Every student’s nightmare,” she adds then quietly.

“Mm. And here I thought you ace everything school related without breaking a sweat.”

“No one is good enough to make up for others’ stupidity,” she scoffs and it actually makes Harry huff out a laugh. It throws her off for a second, it’s the most interaction they’ve had since the party and just the sound of his laugh spreads warmth in his chest.

She walks over to the small bench in the middle and sits, dropping her bag to the floor, staring out into the pouring rain that hasn’t eased at all. Harry watches her for a long moment before pushing off the post and sitting beside her, leaving just enough space for the air between them to feel charged. He leans back, stretching his legs out, the damp fabric of his sweats clinging to him. 

“Group projects really that bad?” Harry asks, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers. Y/N sighs.

“Worse. I have a guy in my group who thinks Freud is a painter.”

Harry barks out a laugh, head tipping back. “No way.”

“Yes way,” she smirks, unable to stop herself from joining his laughter. “And another girl spent half the time asking me if I could ‘just do her part too’ because she was tired.”

“Sounds like you’re carrying the whole thing.”

“Story of my life,” she mutters, but her lips are curved.

“Maybe you should let them fail.”

“That means I would have to fail as well,” she gives him a sharp, but playful look.

“Right. We can’t have that. You have a reputation to keep up” he smirks back. 

“Says the guy who is literally the popular guy with the most cliché reputation.”

Harry places a hand over his heart, faking to be hurt by her words. 

“What?! You’re saying I'm just another popular guy who will end up with crushed dreams and no achievements once he is out of school?”

“You said that, I didn’t,” she raises her eyebrows at him, but he just chuckles, shaking his head. 

“You’re so cruel, Y/N.”

“And you’re an idiot,” she retorts instantly and it feels like something was just clicked back into place.

Harry’s grin softens into something lighter, easier. 

“Maybe. But at least I’m entertaining you.”

For a beat, neither of them says anything, just listening to the rain hammering around them, the air between them warmer than it’s been in weeks. Y/N realizes her shoulders don’t feel as heavy as they did a few minutes ago.

Then Harry stands, grabbing his bag. 

“Come on, if we wait for the rain to stop completely, we’ll be here all night.”

“It’s still raining pretty heavily. You’re just gonna run for it?”

“Why not? Worst case, I catch a cold. Then you’ll feel guilty.” He flashes her a crooked grin that makes her heart squeeze unexpectedly. Before she can reply, he jogs out into the downpour, water splashing around his sneakers, curls bouncing as he disappears into the storm.

Y/N sits frozen for a moment, then bites down on a smile she can’t quite fight. For the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel like she’s losing.

***

Normally Y/N would be questioning her sanity now as she and Tilda are walking into yet another party, but she has done a lot of thinking lately so it’s not that big of a surprise she is here, not if we mention that Harry is here tonight as well.

They grab a drink, mingle a little, but Y/N keeps checking the room for one specific person. Then he finally appears.

Harry is across the room, red cup in hand, a few people orbiting around him like always. Mila leans in close to say something, her hand brushing his arm and Y/N feels a stab of something sharp and ugly in her chest. The kind of jealousy she can’t deny anymore.

Before she can overthink it, Harry’s eyes find hers. For a split second, his face goes neutral and then he smirks, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He doesn’t come to her right away. He lets her stew, lets her feel it, until eventually he peels away from his little circle and strolls over, curls falling into his eyes, confidence radiating off him as always.

“Well, look who made it through the door without a bet this time,” he teases her, stopping in front of her.

“Very funny,” she shoots back, though her lips twitch. “Shouldn’t you be busy entertaining your fan club? Keeping up the popular guy reputation?”

He glances back at where Mila is still standing, watching, before leaning closer to Y/N. 

“If I didn’t know you better I would think you’re jealous.”

She scoffs, even though her pulse spikes. 

“Of what? Please.”

He grins knowingly, sipping from his cup. 

“That sounded a lot like denial.” He sings that last word and that just strengthens the urge in Y/N to smile, but she bites it back at last. She narrows her eyes at him, but the heat in her cheeks betrays her. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late. Already did.” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming.

She feels that this is the moment when she should take a step closer, open up the door she previously shut in his face, but just when she opens her mouth someone calls out his name and he waves back at them.

“I’ll see you later. That is, if you stay longer,” he smirks at her teasingly and she just rolls her eyes at him before he disappears in the crowd.

Y/N does stay. Longer than she planned. Long enough that she’s finished her drink and is leaning against the wall in the hallway, trying to decide whether she should find Tilda or just head out, when Harry reappears out of the crowd.

“Told you I’d see you later,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wow. A man of his word.” Her tone is dry, but the way her lips twitch gives her away.

He nods toward the back door. “Come on. Too loud in here. Let’s have some fresh air.”

She hesitates, but curiosity and the flutter in her stomach makes the decision for her. She follows him outside, where the music dulls to a distant thrum and the cool night air brushes against her skin. They find a quiet spot on the porch steps, just far enough from the crowd.

For a moment, it’s silent, except for the muffled bass inside and the faint sound of crickets. Then Harry glances sideways at her, the corners of his lips curling up.

“So, how was your date?”

Her brows knit. “What?”

“Alex.” He says it casually, but there’s a tightness in his jaw he doesn’t quite hide. “Mr. Pumpkin Chai himself. I’m guessing it went well, since you were so… enthusiastic when you said yes.”

Y/N blinks at him, then laughs softly. 

“You’re actually jealous.”

“Not jealous,” he says quickly, too quickly. “Just curious.”

“Uh-huh.” She lets the silence linger, enjoying the way his shoulders tense. “For your information, there was never a second date.”

That makes him look at her properly. “Why not?”

She shrugs, pretending to examine the rim of her cup. 

“No spark.” She simply says, then she tilts her head, watching his expression shift. “You know what that’s like, right? When you’re talking to someone and you can tell it’s just… not there.”

His eyes darken, and this time there’s no mask of indifference. He leans closer, voice dropping.

“Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.”

The air between them goes heavy, electric, like it always does. Y/N’s pulse hammers in her ears, and she knows she’s not in denial anymore, hasn’t been for a while.

“You know, if you weren’t there when he asked me out, I don’t think I would have said yes,” she admits, heat crawling up her neck as she speaks the truth without playing games.

“What?” Harry laughs in disbelief.

“I was so mad that you were acting so… distant and nonchalant, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you. Which I didn’t get,” she adds with a chuckle.

“I was fighting for my life, actually,” Harry admits, joining in on sharing the truth. 

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes widen as she turns to him. “Didn’t seem like that.”

“I was very close to turning into a mean little kid and mock him or something for asking you out. Not my proudest moment.”

“Well, none of that was showing. I’m surprised my ears were not steaming from the anger.”

They share a quiet laugh, then Y/N asks: “And what about Mila?”

Seeing Harry’s smirk she expects him to come back with some teasing, but then his features soften.

“Nothing. We’re just friends. She is actually crushing on one of my teammates, I’ve been wingmaning her.”

“Oh.”

Harry studies her, like he’s waiting for her to say something else and when she doesn’t, his lips twitch into the faintest smirk. 

“So maybe we stop wasting time pretending.”

She purses her lips, pretending to think about it, but the smile that’s tugging on the corners of her mouth gives her away.

“Hmm. I don’t know, I like this dynamic, I like roasting you.”

“Oh sweetheart, you are giving yourself way too much credit,” he barks out a laugh.

“Hey!” she protests, bumping her shoulder against him, but then Harry’s arm comes up to curl around her, keeping her close this time. Suddenly, she doesn’t feel sassy anymore, not when his gaze flickers down to her lips and hers do the same. The air has shifted quickly, her heart is pounding in her chest and when Harry leans in, she doesn’t pull back. Instead, she meets him halfway and the kiss is all heat and inevitability, the weeks of tension between them finally snapping.

All of her denial unravels as his lips move against hers, the heat of his hand sliding up to the back of her neck gives her shivers.

Y/N makes a quiet sound in her throat she didn’t mean to let slip and Harry grins against her mouth, deepening the kiss just enough to steal her breath. She fists the front of his sweatshirt, dragging him closer, like she can’t stand the idea of space between them.

When they pull apart he curls an arm around her waist, the other one moving to her legs and he pulls them until they are across his, hand resting on her thigh.

“Look at you, kissing your sworn enemy,” he teases her.

“What if I told you I was dared to?”

His face falls and she can’t hold back her laughter.

“See, I think I’m pretty good at roasting you,” she grins triumphantly as Harry realizes she was just messing with him. 

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Yeah?” she keeps smirking.

“Absolutely.” He nods and he is already leaning in, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss and she thinks about how this is a price she would happily pay any day. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[daylightmidnights]

Vet!harry

Series:

Part one: giggles and muffins

Part two: play dates and puppy eyes

Blurbs:

Best five minutes

Experimenting

One More Gift

[daylightmidnights]

Soulmate Smells: Snow Globe

Masterlist: Here

CW: Obsessive soulmate behavior, smut (use of good girl one time lol), tiny bit of angst and a little dash of jealous Harry.

Tag List: @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @blckburd @triski73 @mema10 @angeldavis777 @maudie-duan

Word Count: 9.7K (oops)

A/N: I am combining the request for a jealous Harry as well as some angst so hopefully y’all enjoy! Don’t worry everything ends fluffy and this isn’t the last time you’ll get jealous Harry in this series✨

Summary: Harry has to go out of town for a few days and it’s hard on both of you ✨

Leaving for trips or tours hasn’t ever been that hard for Harry, yes he’s had people he would miss as well as events such as birthdays and holidays he wishes he could be around for but normally the goodbye process before a trip is relatively easy. That all changed when you entered his life unexpectedly at a farmer’s market just five months ago. You’ve become the center of his universe, the person that he loves more than anything and it actually pains him to even just be down the hall from you so he really doesn’t know how he’s going to handle being across the country from you for four whole days.

He tried moving the trip and even went as far as contemplating just canceling the whole thing because it’s all for one meeting that he said could be done on zoom, to which he got a quick no as a response due to the fact he already pushed this meeting back two weeks and they need him to finalize some artwork. The second thing is he’s due for an appearance at his brand’s pop up shop in New York, which he tried to call in sick for but they weren’t buying it having teased him about him just being a little lovesick and reminding him his fans miss him and just want to see him for a few hours while shopping his newest product line. And one thing about Harry is that he adores his fans, loves them to bits but even the ego boost he will undoubtedly get and the lovely time he knows he’ll have being surrounded by them he just can’t stomach the idea of you not being there by his side for it.

When you told him you couldn’t go, he knew there wasn’t anything he could do to change your mind because if you could move things around to make the trip work you would’ve because he’s not the only one who’s going to be suffering when he leaves. You might not be as vocal about it but being alone ever since meeting Harry isn’t something you enjoy, you hate the feeling of your world being slightly off balance due to the feeling of being so utterly incomplete anytime he’s gone, even if it’s just for a trip to the store or he’s going to the kitchen to get you a glass of water, you miss him.

Missing him is different than the way you miss anyone else, it’s a pain you feel deep down in your chest that starts off like a small twinge between the ribs but the longer he’s gone the more it festers into a throbbing sort of ache in your heart that you swear is going to cause it to rip in half. So you’re not sure how you’re going to survive the days without him but you try not to think about it or you’ll end up a mess on the floor and in true Harry fashion he will do something dramatic and possibly end up not going, and you know he needs to go he has companies to check in on and a career to get back to.

“Will you bring me back a souvenir?” Your question has Harry’s mouth twitching as he holds back a teasing smile while you watch him walk around the bedroom gathering a few last minute things.

“I’ll bring you back the Statue of Liberty how’s that sound?” He says with his back facing you as he stands in front of the dresser so he can grab a pair of socks to shove in his carry on bag.

“Sounds lovely as long as it’s in a snow globe with a sign that says I love New York.”

“Baby a snow globe? Really? That’s what you want?” He asks as his eyes bounce around his open jewelry box that sits on top of the tall dresser that holds all of your sweaters and cardigans in the walk in closet.

“Yes I’ll put it with that ceramic orange you got me from the thrift store because you said something about oranges being our fruit.” This has Harry pausing as he looks over his shoulder and into the bathroom where your vanity is, a smile stretching across his face when he sees the ceramic orange sitting next to the small bottle of perfume you now only wear on very rare occasions due to the side affects it has on him.

“Oranges are our fruit that’s just a fact love.”

“When is the last time we’ve even eaten an orange? And don’t you dare say last weekend when we had mimosas because that doesn’t count.”

“It has nothing to do with us eating them.” He answers with a small laugh as he closes his jewelry box and walks out of the closet. “It’s because that’s the first thing I got a whiff of when you walked in front of me- you smelled like sugary oranges.” Harry feels his heart start to pound in his chest as the memory of when he first saw you swirls around in his mind.

“That got left in the forest right? That’s what you said I smelled like when you were rubbing your nose all over my wrist on your knees in the middle of-”

“I love you-so much it’s more than likely going to be my cause of death but can we please not go back there right now?” You bite back a laugh as Harry stands in the doorway of the closet with a hand on his hip and the other resting over his heart. “I can’t get all lost in how you smelled or looked that day or I’ll miss my flight and as nice as that sounds Jeff would probably kill me.”

“Sorry I’ll behave.” You huff making Harry give you a quirk of his brow as he watches you lean your back against the headboard. “Continue with your last minute packing I’ll just sit here.” You inform him as you gesture to the half full duffle bag at the end of the bed that he’s been tossing random things into. It’s when you poke your bottom lip out just a bit that has Harry immediately clued in on what you’re attempting, playing into his constant need to always make you happy so of course you try to pout so he’ll drop what he’s doing and dote on you, making him possibly lose all track of time and miss his flight.

“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work love.” His eyes stare into yours for a moment before you’re dropping your act and sticking your tongue out at him making him laugh as he moves towards the dresser again but this time you watch him bend down and grab one of your t shirts. “Can I borrow this? Swear I’ll bring it back-can’t promise it’ll be in perfect condition but-”

“You can just keep it you weirdo.” Harry ignores your playful insult and turns around to shove it into his duffle bag. “You’re kinda obsessed with me aren’t you?” Your voice is soft and holds a hint of playfulness that has Harry smiling as he sits on the edge of the bed so he can start putting his socks on.

“Just a bit. It’s not like I’ve proposed five times or anything like that.” He answers with a casual shrug as you crawl up behind him and wrap your arms around his shoulders while your legs wrap around his middle making him chuckle.

“Six.” You correct him before placing a kiss to the side of his neck. “You’ve proposed six times.” Harry lets out a scoff as his hands grip your knees as he leans into your hold letting his back be pulled flush against your chest.

“Baby that one time in the elevator does not count because you-you cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat you just always seem to ask me to be yours forever when you’re shoving your-”

“I’m sorry….shoving? You make it sound…so aggressive. It was a blowie in an elevator and you did that thing with your tongue so yeah that’s cheating you knew it was going to happen…you know how I get when you’re all needy.”

“Oh you love it when I’m all needy.” Your lips are right next to his ear sending a shiver down his spine and Harry has to close his eyes and try not to get too overwhelmed with the feeling of you being wrapped around him.

“You want to talk about cheating hmm?” You let out a giggle as he opens his eyes and turns his head so he can catch a glimpse of you and when he sees the corners of your lips pull upward he knows he’s caught you in your more drastic attempt to keep him home. “This is a bit beyond cheating though this is just cruel.” He says with a sigh as he grabs your hands that are not so subtly running up and down the part of his upper chest that his half undone button up shirt is giving you access to. “Gonna miss these.” He mumbles as he gives a few kisses to your knuckles before placing them back on his chest while you rest your cheek on his shoulder, giving into your loving touches having decided he might as well savor the feeling of your hands on him while he can.

“You love New York.” You remind him as he runs his hands up and down your thighs that are bracketing his sides as he sits between your spread legs. “You’re going to have so much fun.” You tell him with a smile as you place a kiss to the side of his neck. “Your fans are going to fill you up with so much love and affection and I know you’ve missed them so this is going to be good-for you and them.” You reassure him in that soothingly sweet tone that has him relaxing under your touch and all he can do is let out a hum in response because he knows you’re right, this is going to be good for him and his fans.

The buzz of Harry’s phone makes the energy in the room shift, both of you know it’s a notification telling him his driver is here to take him to the airport. You give the side of his neck a quick kiss before you’re unwrapping yourself from around him, letting him stand up so he can turn around and offer you his hands to help you up off the bed. It’s a silent walk to the front door, Harry’s duffle bag in one hand and yours in the other that he gives a small squeeze to before letting it go.

“I love you.” Harry hates how your voice already sounds watery as you stand in front of him. He drops his bag to the floor and cups your face in his hands, his thumbs softly running over your cheekbones.

“I love you too.” He whispers before leaning down and placing a kiss to your forehead as your hands come up and wrap around his wrists. “I’ll be back before you know it okay?” You give him a sad nod as he takes one of your hands and puts it over his chest letting you feel the steady rhythmic beating of his heart under your palm. “It belongs to you-you know that don’t you baby? Every part of my heart is yours. You put all my broken pieces back together the first time you looked at me. Made it whole again and now it’s all yours. I’m all yours.” The tears start rolling down your face as soon as you hear him sniffle and lean his forehead against yours.

“I’m all yours too Harry.” You tell him softly, he just lets out a sad sigh as he pulls you into him, your tear stained cheek rests against his chest and his arms wrap around your shoulders. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You mumble into the fabric of his shirt as a new wave of tears starts to slip down your face while you wrap your arms around Harry’s middle pulling him as close as possible.

“I’m going to miss you so much you’ll be lucky if I let you have any time away from me when I get back-gonna have to pry me off with a crowbar.” When he hears you let out a small chuckle even though it’s very sad and pitiful sounding he feels like there’s a tiny bit of hope this won’t end with you a pile of tears on the floor and him a disastrous emotional mess the whole plane ride to New York.

“Don’t-don’t forget my snow globe.” You remind him as he sniffles and lets out a laugh while leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head.

“I won’t forget your snow globe baby don’t worry.”

“I am worried because you always forget things when you’re in a rush or your head isn’t on right.”

“Oh and what makes you think I’ll be rushing or that my head won’t be on right?”

“Because I won’t be there.” He can’t even try to argue with you at that, because he will be rushing, rushing to get back home to you and his head won’t be on right because it’ll be filled with thoughts of how much he can’t wait to see you and how he wishes time would move just a little bit faster over the next four days.

“Bit freaky how well you know me.” This earns him a squeeze as you turn your head and place a kiss to the fabric of his shirt, right over his heart. The sound of a car horn honking from the driveway makes a long sigh slide past his lips.

“I’ll see you later?” You ask him as you pull away, and it takes everything in him to not fall apart right then and there at how red your cheeks are, how pink the tip of your nose is and how watery your eyes are as they look up at him. He gives you a nod as one of his hands comes up to rest on your cheek.

“I’ll see you later.” He tells you before he presses his lips against yours in a kiss that tells you all the things he wishes he could stand there and say, but mainly it’s full of love. “I love you.” He says before giving your lips one last little peck.

“I love you too now go before you miss your flight.” You wipe at your eyes as he places a quick kiss to your forehead before he grabs his duffle bag and takes a step towards the door. You watch him pause as his hand rises up to grab the doorknob, his head turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“Do I really-”

“Yes you really have to go-we will be okay.” You assure him with a small smile that has him just nodding as he turns and opens the front door. You let out a giggle when he quickly rushes over and gives you one last kiss, the smile he gives you when he pulls away doesn’t quite reach his eyes but you don’t say anything because know he’s trying his best.

You stand in the doorway and watch him climb into the back of the black suv, when he rolls the window down you blow him a kiss that he makes a big deal about catching and shoving in the pocket of his button up. He waves at you as he starts to drive away, you wave back and stand there until the car is past the front gate and turning onto the street in front of the house. It’s not until you can no longer see the taillights of his car that you feel the reality set in and the weight of his absence starting to hit.

You let out a long sigh as you close the front door and stand there looking around the house that suddenly feels extremely empty and the tiniest bit colder without Harry around to brighten and warm it up. You know it’s dramatic and the tiniest bit pathetic to already miss him as much as you do but you can’t help it he is literally your other half, the person that makes you feel loved and complete, so when a few tears slide down your face you don’t bother trying to stop them or tell yourself to get a grip and suck it up, you just stand there and let yourself feel it. The sinking feeling of your heart slowly falling into the pit of your tummy, the way you feel slightly off balance as if one strong gust of air could send you toppling over and the nagging voice in the back of your head that’s whispering things about how you’ll never be happy without him and how silly you were for letting him go.

A light buzzing sound catches your attention and knocks you out of your thoughts that were mere moments away from having you being to spiral into a miserable pit of sadness. You quirk a brow as you walk into the kitchen where your phone is sitting on the island and when you pick it up your eyes scan the screen and see it was just an Instagram notification. But then as you hold the device in your hand it’s as if he knew you were in the need of saving from yourself, a perfectly timed message from Harry pops up on your screen and has your eyes softening and a quiet chuckle leaving your lips.

Just saw someone selling oranges and grapefruits on the side of the road and nearly lost it and turned back around.

Before you can type out a response two more messages from him pop up and they make a smile take over your face as you read them because even though you feel lonely, you aren’t actually going through this alone. Harry is in the same boat as you, he’s just a bit more dramatic about it.

Does it make me pathetic to say that I miss you so much already that I’m contemplating retirement so we never have to do this again?

Actually don’t answer that because I already know I’m pathetically and wholeheartedly in love with you. I’ll call you as soon as I land.

Harry doesn’t think he’s never been more unhappy in his entire life than he is right now, in fact he knows he’s never been this downright miserable before and it has nothing to do with the people sitting around him that are quietly talking and laughing amongst themselves. He’s glad they are mingling with each other and not relying on him to be their source of entertainment as they are sat at a long table in the middle of the one business dinner Harry let Jeff talk him into adding to his short trip to New York. His miserable and sour mood actually has everything to do with the one person who’s not in attendance, the person he wishes more than anything would magically walk through the door of the restaurant and take the empty seat on his left.

That person is you.

Unbeknownst to him the side effects of your absence is starting to cause cracks in the facade he’s been putting on while in front of company, giving little glimpses of just how truly unhappy he is now that he’s going on the second full day of being across the country from you. His eyes don’t have that glimmer of boyish mischief in them, his smile doesn’t produce his signature dimples, his shoulders are in a constant state of being slumped down and every time he hears a phone go off a flash of hope crosses his face as he checks his phone that’s been attached to his hand since he left you waving him off in the doorway of his house. But when he realizes it wasn’t his phone that dinged the corners of his mouth droop down into the most pitiful pout it almost makes Jeff want to call you and tell you to book a flight and come save your boyfriend from himself.

“What’s she doing right now?” Mitch asks as he places his half empty glass of wine down on the table. Harry lets out a sigh as he looks at his phone to check the time.

“Working for another-hour and a half then she has some sort of dinner thing with a few coworkers afterwards.” Harry answers with a hint of sadness mingled in the tone of his voice that Mitch immediately picks up on. “Can’t call her until she’s done working so I’m just…waiting.” He explains making his long haired friend quirk an eyebrow but instead of asking for more information he just lets it go, not wanting to possibly bring Harry’s mood down any further than it already is.

The thing the two of you found out the hard way on the first full day of him being gone is that if you allow him to call you or FaceTime you during work hours you’ll end up getting close to nothing done. Harry being the loving and respectful man that he is accepted your rule of no calls during the work day, but the loophole he discovered quite quickly is that you never said he couldn’t text you or send you voice notes. So that’s exactly what he’s been doing, texting you constantly and sending you his random rambling thoughts he gets throughout the day and you respond when you can and even send him a few voice notes back during your lunch break giving him a recap of your day so far.

“You really like her huh?” Harry turns in his chair so he can really look at Mitch who has a genuine look of curiosity on his face because in all the years he’s known Harry he’s never seen him like this.

“Like her? No I don’t like her.” Harry states firmly as he lets out a sigh and runs the hand that’s not holding his phone through his hair. “I’m so in love with her it feels like I can’t breathe when she’s gone.” Mitch keeps his facial expression in check as Harry tells him exactly how he feels about you. “She’s what keeps me steady so now I feel all off and…it’s like a constant pull ya know? Like if I got up right now and just started walking my feet would take me right back to her…right back home because she-she’s everything.” For the first time in nearly two days Mitch watches a full blown grin take over Harry’s face and his eyes soften at the edges as he talks about you.

“I’m happy for you.” Is all Mitch says as he reaches over and gives Harry’s shoulder a nice pat. “I can’t wait to meet her.” He adds with a soft smile.

“Oh you’ll love her-not as much as I do but still you’ll like her she’s-” Harry’s sentence gets cut off but the sound of his phone vibrating and his eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees it’s you, and you’re not just sending him a text but actually calling him. He doesn’t even say anything to Mitch before he’s scooting his chair out and bringing his phone to his ear as he walks towards the the back corner of the private room the dinner is taking place in.

“Harry?” Your voice saying his name has Harry letting out a deep sigh feeling like he can finally breathe again now that he has your sweet voice in his ear.

“Hey baby is everything okay? Aren’t you still at work?” His mind starts to frantically race with ideas of all the things that could be wrong but before he can truly begin to spiral you let out a laugh.

“Everything is fine.” You reassure him as he runs a hand through his hair. “The office got out early because we have that team building dinner tonight so I’m just in the closet deciding what to wear.” A smile creeps its way back onto Harry’s face as he imagines you sitting on your fluffy stool in the middle of the closet staring at your clothes with a cute little look of concentration on your face as you try to narrow the options down.

“Nothing too short…or tight…or sleeveless…don’t you have that lovely pink and white turtleneck? Just wear that and some jeans.”

“It’s summertime I’m not wearing a turtleneck.”

“Fashion has no seasons my love and you look so good in it.”

“How do you know it looks good? You’ve never seen me in it.”

“Don’t have to. You look good in everything.” Harry has to hold back a laugh at the loud huff of frustration that comes out of you.

“Did you really try to tell me fashion doesn’t have seasons?” You question as he hears what sounds like hangers being moved letting him assume you’re digging through your racks of clothes.

“Yes because it’s true…you can wear whatever you want whenever you want sweetheart.” You just give him a hum in response as his eyes scan the room to see if his absence from the table has been noticed by anyone yet. “And that includes your pink and white turtleneck.” He says with a playfulness that seems to only ever reveal itself when he’s talking to you.

“I do love your opinion but I’m leaning more towards the navy blue dress with the white and yellow flowers.” Harry nearly drops to his knees as you describe the dress you’re wanting to wear, it’s one he bought you in hopes he would be one of the few people who got to see you in it but now as fate would have it he’s feeling as if he’s the only one who won’t be getting to see you in it.

“Baby you can’t-”

“I can’t what Harry?” His heart is starting to beat faster as your words come through the phone with the smallest hint of an emotion he’s never experienced from you before or at least not yet, anger. “I can’t wear what I want to a dinner with my coworkers?” Your harsher than usual tone has the color draining out of Harry’s face as he realizes what exactly it is he said.

“No no sweetheart that’s not it I don’t care what you wear…I mean I care because I care about everything you do and picking an outfit is important and I want to help but that…that dress just…I haven’t gotten to see you in it and I’m just I don’t know? Feeling a bit…jealous.” He knows he sounds ridiculous but it doesn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth in a quicker rate than normal and he knows that if anyone is going to understand the weird train his thoughts are on right now it’s you, his other half.

“Jealous?” Your voice is softer now after you let his words sink in for a moment. “Jealous of what?” Harry looks down at his feet with a pitiful sounding sigh.

“Of everyone else that’s going to get to see how stunning you look in it.” The soft little cooing sound you let out has his heart rate returning to normal because he knows that sound, it’s one you usually give him as you stare at him with soft round eyes and a silly smile on your face before you cup his cheeks in your soft hands and give them a little squeeze.

“You’re so damn cute.” He lets out a chuckle as you let out a soft sigh. “Fine I won’t wear the dress but I’m also not wearing a turtleneck.”

“Yeah that’s probably smart I wouldn’t want you to have a heatstroke or something while I’m not there to look after you.”

“You’re not fooling me Harry I know you’d love to use that as an excuse to come home early.”

“If I want to come home early I don’t need an elaborate excuse love I’ll just tell them my wife-or sorry my girlfriend needs me and I’ve got to go.”

“You’re not nearly as smooth as you think you are.” You tell him with a laugh that makes his tummy fill with butterflies. “Jessica is coming over in a bit we’re riding to dinner together is it okay if she stays in the guest room if things get too rowdy?” This has Harry’s brow quirking as he looks up and places a hand on his hip.

“You don’t need to ask permission to have someone stay over baby but uh…uhm well are things g-going to get uh a little…rowdy tonight?” He struggles to get his words out in a way that doesn’t make him sound like a controlling boyfriend because honestly Harry just wants to know if he can expect any drunk calls later.

“I don’t plan on it because the man I like to get a little rowdy with is all the way in New York.” Harry lets out a very obvious sigh of relief that has you giggling as he hears the sound of rustling sheets letting him know you just laid down on the bed. “But Jessica is a tiny bit of a lightweight-love her though she’s very sweet but red wine turns her into a party animal.”

“God I miss you.” He doesn’t mean to let it slip out, doesn’t want to ruin the moment but he can’t help it and when he hears you go silent he knows that’s exactly what he’s done.

“I miss you too.” The emotion in your voice nearly breaks him and he has to shake his head and swallow the lump that’s forming in his throat when he hears the faintest sound of a sniffle coming from your end of the phone. “I love you…I’m sorry I snapped at you I just-”

“I know it’s okay…I love you too.” He says trying to gently as possible cut you off before you can start to go on an emotional rant. He knows this needs to be the end of the conversation, having been tucked away in the back of the room long enough that Jeff has looked over at him twice and the two of you are both teetering on the edge of breaking down. “Call me when you get home okay? Use the driver and the card I left for you please.”

“Okay…text me when you’re home for the night.” This is the part he hates the most about phone calls with you, he never is quite ready to say goodbye and neither are you. So he does it for the both of you, so you don’t have to ever to feel bad about being the one who hangs up first.

“I will. Bye sweetheart I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Harry.” He ends the call with a frown on his face and a light stinging sensation in his eyes that has him clearing his throat and attempting to blink the tears away as Mitch stands up from the table and slowly approaches him with a drink in his hand.

“It sucks being in love sometimes.” Is all Mitch says as he offers Harry a drink before standing next to him.

“Yeah.” Harry agrees with a heavy sigh as he brings the glass up to his lips to take a sip. “But I still wouldn’t give it up for the world.” He adds with a smile as he thinks of you and how in just a little over thirty six hours he’ll have you wrapped up in his arms and feel whole again.

Harry feels like his skin is buzzing with all the excitement and anticipation that’s running through his body, his leg is bouncing and his hand is tapping on the top of his thigh as he gets closer and closer to home, to you. The moment his driver pulls onto the very familiar street his heart starts feeling like it’s being squeezed deep in his chest, as if it knows you’re nearby and is longing for the feeling of being home. The last day and a half of his trip went by in a blur of meeting fans and looking at artwork for an upcoming project and if he’s being honest with himself Harry would admit that it felt nice being back in the mix of things but it didn’t stop the dull ache in his chest and the emotions that would build up in his voice whenever he’d have to end his daily phone calls with you.

When he gets dropped off outside the front gate he thinks his cheeks are going to get sore from the size of the grin that spreads across his face. As he walks through the gate he hears it, the sound of a door opening and when he looks up you’re running out the front door and down the steps and before he can even think twice he’s sliding his duffle bag off his shoulder letting it fall to the ground with a thud and rushing towards you. The two of you practically crash into each other, your arms wrapping around his neck while his hands cup your face. His lips instantly find yours and he swears he feels as if he could cry tears of pure happiness at the immense amount of relief he feels having you back in his arms. He can feel the ache in his chest fading away as your lips move against his, he tilts your head up deepening the kiss while you pull him closer to you.

“God I missed you.” His words are mumbled against your lips. “So fucking much.” He says softly as his lips find your jaw, kissing their way down to your neck.

“I missed you too.” You tell him with a sigh that has him smiling against the soft skin of your neck, you tilt your head a bit giving his lips more access making him let out a little moan when he gets a whiff of your perfume you dotted behind your ears.

His hands are everywhere, sliding down your arms to your hips until finally he’s dipping both hands into the back waistband of your bike shorts and firmly grabbing at your ass. You let out a soft chuckle at the loud groan he lets out as he gives your backside a harsh squeeze before his lips are once again on yours. The kiss turns heated quickly as Harry moves a hand to your hip while the other slides into your hair to tilt your face exactly where he wants it. When he pulls away and his green eyes lock with yours it’s as if suddenly Harry realizes you’re really standing in front of him and he really is home and the way he stares at you has your heart pounding in your chest.

“Hi baby.” His voice is hushed as if he doesn’t want to ruin the moment by being too loud, you can’t help but smile as he gives your hip a squeeze.

“Hi Harry.” You whisper before leaning in and placing a kiss to his lips, when you pull away your eyes look over his shoulder towards his duffle bag that’s on the ground. “Hope my snow globe wasn’t in there.” You joke and Harry’s eyes go wide and a slight panic flashes across his face making you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Damn-knew I was forgetting something.”

“Harry are-”

“I’m kidding sweetheart.” He says with a laugh as his hand slides down to the side of your neck. “I just like it when you get all whiney for me.” You try to roll your eyes but he’s nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and kissing his way up towards your jaw, making your eyes close when he gets to the spot just below your ear.

You let out a quiet moan when his hand that was on your hip slides past the waistband of your shorts, the pad of his thumb gently pressing over your cloth covered clit. Your hands grip the tops of his shoulders as his mouth nips at your jaw while his thumb adds a bit more pressure that sends a shiver down your spine and a moan to fall from your lips. The sound of your moan makes something click in Harry’s mind and he’s sliding his hand back up to your hip making you let out a pitiful whine and your eyes to snap open.

“I’m sorry baby m’not trying to be mean.” His voice is rough and low in your ear as he pulls you flush against him so he can feel your chest pressed against his. “But your moans…your little whines and sighs…and especially your little screams of my name when I make you feel good…those are all just for me.” He says between kisses down your neck. “I don’t wanna share them with the whole neighborhood.”

“That makes you sound a bit possessive.” You tease but Harry just shrugs as he pulls away from your neck, his lips only a breath away from yours.

“That’s because I am.” He murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But that’s to be expected with how obsessed I am with you.” You smile against his lips when he presses them into yours. “Now come on let’s get inside before we get another letter from Mrs. Baker across the street about what’s appropriate for the front yard and what’s not.”

“She’s too nosey for her own good-we have a gate so I don’t even know how she can see what’s happening in our yard.” Harry just chuckles as you roll your eyes and take a step away from him so he can turn and grab his duffle bag. “Besides all I was doing was washing the car.” This makes Harry give you a look as he slings the strap of his duffle bag onto his shoulder. “What? It’s true I was just-”

“Baby you know damn well you weren’t just washing the car you were practically naked and-”

“Excuse me? I was in a swimsuit.”

“Not for very long if I remember correctly.” He mumbles as he places his hand at the back of your neck giving it a tiny squeeze before the two of you start walking towards the house. You just let out a scoff and reach over and smack his chest with the back of your hand making him laugh.

“You’re so annoying.” You say with a laugh as he pushes the front door open letting you walk in first. The moment the door closes with a soft click Harry is tossing his bag to the side and when you turn around to face him you watch his eyes roam over your body leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I missed being able to look at you…getting to watch the way your eyes get all soft when you look at me or how your mouth twitches just a bit when you’re fighting off a smile-god I don’t know how I went four whole days without being able to really look at you.” His words have your cheeks getting warm and your heart feeling like it’s melting as he takes his time looking you over, wanting to take in every inch of you that he’s missed while he was gone. He gives you a smile that has your knees threatening to give out, you watch him slowly walk towards you not wanting to rush anything not even his steps.

“The house felt too quiet-too cold without you in it.” Your voice gives away the emotion you feel creeping up into your chest as you remember how empty the house felt without Harry around. He sees the way your mouth turns down ever so slightly and he closes the distance between the two of you, his hands cup your cheeks and his lips press against yours in a kiss that has your eyes closing and your hands tangling into his hair.

“I slept with your shirt every night because it smelled like you.” He admits as he rests his forehead against yours. “I had it over one of the spare pillows and I’d cuddle it but it didn’t cuddle back or steal the covers in the middle of the night like you do-or tuck it’s icicle feet between my legs to warm them up like you do and it sure as hell didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night to walk with it down the hall to get water just in case there’s a ghost in the kitchen.” You roll your eyes as he pulls away with a chuckle.

“Firstly I don’t steal the covers you just don’t ever have a good grip on them. And secondly you never know when a ghost is gonna decide to show itself and what if it’s the one time I go get water at two in the morning by myself?”

“Baby I’ve lived here for years and haven’t seen a single ghost and you most definitely steal the covers it’s quite aggressive if I’m being honest.”

“Maybe they just don’t like you-you’re too loud for them-aggressive? Says the man who will roll over in his sleep and pull me into his chest and hold me there with his annoyingly muscular arms that-”

“That you like to bite.”

“It was one time and I even asked you if I could do it because-because sometimes you just look…bite-able.”

“God I missed this.” You quirk a brow as Harry’s hands slide down to the side of your neck and a silly grin spreads across his face. “Missed these little debates we get into-I love how riled up you get when you’re arguing with me.”

“This isn’t arguing Harry.” You tell him with a small laugh. “This is just bickering like-”

“An old married couple? Because I wouldn’t mind bickering like that but there’s just the issue of us-”

“Not being old?” The playful glare he sends you has you biting back a smile.

“You’re so mean to me.” He says with a small whine as he leans in and places a kiss to your lips. “One day you’ll let me propose to you-I just know it.” He teases between little pecks to your lips making a you let out a fit of giggles as he pulls away.

“Did you really sleep with my shirt on a pillow?” Harry’s eyes soften as they stare into yours while he gives you a small nod. “Because I slept with the hoodie you like to wear to the gym.” You admit with a slight flush rushing to your cheeks that has Harry grinning down at you as if you just told him you loved him for the first time.

“My sweaty old gym hoodie? You slept with it?” You just nod shyly as his hands drop to your waist. “I knew my girl was a freak.” He jokes with a smile as he bends down and grabs at the back of your thighs and in one swift motion your legs are wrapping around his middle and your arms are around his neck. “I love it.”

“I’m not a freak-I wash that thing at least once a week so it wasn’t that sweaty and gross.” You argue but Harry just shakes his head as he carries you down the hall to the bedroom.

“No no sweetheart I tossed that in the dirty clothes bin before I left.” You let out a small huff as he gently places you down on the bed, his hands on either side of your face as he hovers over you. “Just admit it baby you slept with it straight from the laundry basket because you secretly love when I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“It just smelled the most like you…like cologne and a bit of sweat mixed with the smallest hint of that lavender fabric softener we just bought.” You reach up and run a hand through his hair as he just stares at you while you tell him the reason behind you sleeping with his old worn out hoodie.

“Well I’m home now so you don’t have to sleep with the hoodie anymore.” He whispers as he leans down to bump the tip of his nose into yours before pressing his lips to your forehead. You smile as he kisses the tip of your nose and then your lips before he stands at the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he grabs your ankles and gently pulls you closer to the edge of the bed so your legs are hanging off. “Can I see all of you baby? Haven’t gotten to see you spread out for me in days and…it’s honestly killing me.” His voice is almost desperate as his hands run up and down the outside of your thighs as he stands between them, waiting for you to give him a nod before he slides them up to the waistband of your shorts.

His movements are slow as he slides your shorts and panties down your legs, wanting to really take his time with getting to see all the parts of you he’s missed so badly over the past four days. You feel a familiar warmth spread through you as his eyes hungrily drink you in as you sit up just long enough to pull your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor along with your bra leaving you completely bare for him. His eyes darken as he bites his bottom lip and it’s as if his eyes don’t know where to focus going from your plush thighs up to your breast and he licks his lips when he glances down and sees your glistening core, but when they travel up your neck and lock with yours that’s all it takes for Harry to lose what was left of his control.

“Fuck you’re so pretty.” He groans as he swiftly pulls his shirt off, you have to hold back a little giggle when he fumbles with the button and zipper of his jeans before sliding them down and kicking them off behind him.

“And I’m all yours.” You tell him as if you already knew what he was going to ask, he gives you a smile as he tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers so he can tug them down in one quick motion. You swallow thickly as your eyes roam down his toned chest admiring the ink on his well defined stomach before they make their way down to his hard cock that he has a hand wrapped around, giving himself slow pumps.

“Shit I’m not gonna last-I just know the moment I have you wrapped around me I’m gonna burst.” He warns as he grabs ahold of your thighs, spreading them further apart so he can settle between them with the tip of his cock at your entrance. Both of you let out deep moans as he slowly starts to push into your wetness, feeling the ultimate sense of relief now that you can finally feel whole again after so many days of feeling as if half of you was missing.

“Fuck I’m never leaving you again baby-can’t be away from you-from this.” Harry says with a sigh as you feel every inch of him push into you until he’s got you reaching that blissfully full feeling that you only get from him. “Won’t survive it-being away from you again. Nearly lost it not getting to feel you like this for four days-was torture.” He admits shamelessly as his hips find a slow and steady rhythm that has you letting out a soft moan.

“Missed how good you feel.” You say with a moan that has Harry grabbing one of your legs and bending it at the knee so your foot is resting on the footboard of the bed letting him get deeper with each controlled thrust of his hips. “Oh god.” Harry smiles as he watches your eyes close and your hands reach out to grip the sheets at your sides, loving the way you look when you’re experiencing a type of pleasure only he can give you.

“I missed your little noises-always sound so pretty when you’re moaning for me.” You let out a loud moan of his name when the tip of his cock hits that spot deep inside you, Harry keeps his steady pace even when he feels your walls start to flutter and pulse around him. “Tell me baby did you use those pretty little fingers on yourself while I was gone?” He asks as you let out a soft gasp when he places the pad of his thumb on your clit rubbing tight slow circles that he knows drives you a little mad because much like everything you experience with Harry, it just makes you want more.

“N-no.” You answer with a sigh as he increases the pressure of his thumb. “Waited for you-you to make me feel good.” When you open your eyes Harry is already looking at you with a small smirk on his face and a lust filled gaze.

“I’m the only one who makes you feel this good isn’t that right? The only one who makes you feel nice and complete.” He quickens his pace as he leans over and places a kiss to your knee. “The only one who knows how to love you the way you need.” His words have your eyes welling up and a mixture of emotions swirling around in your chest making your heart start to beat faster. You try to push the emotions down, not wanting to ruin the moment the two of you are in the middle of.

But of course Harry notices the shift, he sees the tears gathering in your eyes and the way your cheeks get a blotchy type of flush to them and it has his hands running soothingly up and down your thighs. When you let out a soft little whimper of his name he feels as if his heart is being squeezed in a vice, his hips still and before you can process what’s happening he’s leaning over you and wrapping your arms around his neck, picking you up in one smooth motion to straddle him as he sits at the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He whispers as he places a kiss to your forehead as his hands rest on your hips, he lets out a deep breath before resting his forehead against yours. “I know it’s a lot-going from missing someone so badly it hurts…to feeling completely whole again all in the same day.” He explains softly making you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, pulling away just enough so your eyes can find his.

“It just-I really do love you so much.” Your voice is strained but Harry watches your lips pull upwards into a small smile. “It just sort of…hit me all at once because you-you really do love me in a way that no one else can even begin to understand and I didn’t realize just how empty I felt without you until now and…I missed you so much.” You do your best to try to explain to him how you’re feeling and Harry just runs his thumbs over the soft skin of your hips and listens, not rushing you or getting bothered by how many little pauses you take, he just lets you go at your own pace because he knows telling him how you really feel about him is still something you’re getting comfortable with.

“You love me how much?” He asks as a grin slowly spreads across his face. “Come on baby tell me again how much you love me.” You pull him in for a kiss that he deepens by bringing a hand up to the back of your head pulling you closer to him, you feel his cock twitch inside of you when you roll your hips as he slips his tongue past your parted lips.

“Harry.” You say breathlessly as you pull away from him and start to roll your hips in a more steady pace, Harry’s grip on your hip tightens as he helps guide your movements.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” He mumbles as his lips find your neck while your hands grip onto the tops of his shoulders. “Not going anywhere-I’ve got you baby.” He reassures you, his breath warm on your skin as your hips quicken their pace feeling the coil in your lower tummy tighten as you feel Harry’s cock go deeper with each roll of your hips.

“I love you..so much.” You feel him smile against your collarbone before placing a kiss there.

“I love you too.” He says with a smile as he pulls away so he can look at you. “Want you to make a mess all over my lap baby. Show me just how much you missed me.” His voice is low and lust filled as he slides his hand down to grab at the soft flesh of your ass.

You let out a whiney moan as Harry starts to thrust his hips making the tip of his cock hit the spot deep inside you that has your eyes closing and your head tilting up towards the ceiling. Harry brings a hand down to cup one of your breasts giving it a nice squeeze before rolling your hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger making you let out a moan that goes straight to his cock. You dig your nails into the tops of his shoulders as his thrusts turn harsher, fucking up into you at a pace that has the coil snapping in your lower tummy, Harry lets out a groan as you start clenching and pulsing around him.

“That’s it baby-oh fuck you feel so good.” His name tumbles out of your mouth over and over as your orgasm hits you hard. “That’s my good girl-give it all to me baby make a mess.” He pants as you let out a moan when he gives you a harsh thrust, his own release quickly building as your hips slow down their pace.

“Can you fill me up Harry? Please-want it so bad.” You beg as his hands fall to your hips, his grip tightening as he fucks his cock up into you with harsh thrusts of his hips.

“Anything you want baby-I’ll give you anything you want.” He says as he gives you one last hard thrust before he’s pressing his lips against yours, the kiss is hungry and desperate as you feel the warmth of his release coating your walls, you moan into his mouth as his hands grab the sides of your face while you clench around him milking him of every last drop he has to give you. He only pulls away to let out a curse word under his breath when he feels your hands run down his chest making a shiver run down his spine.

“You okay sweetheart?” He murmurs as he kisses down your jaw. You give him a nod as you place your hand over his heart making him pull away from your jaw and look down at your hand. “Still belongs to you-every beat…every part of it…it’s all for you.”

“You’re such a softy Harry Styles.” You say with a smile on your face, Harry just shrugs as he leans down to place a kiss to your forehead.

“Only for you.”

“So how’d I do?” Harry asks as he stands behind where you’re sat in front of your vanity getting ready for bed, you tilt your head up making Harry instantly lean down to press a kiss to your lips, a smile on your face when he pulls away.

“You did good.” You answer as you look at the snow globe that holds the Statue of Liberty wearing a t shirt that says ‘I love NY’ that you placed next to your ceramic orange.

“Will you come with me next time?” His voice is hopeful as he places his hands on the top of your shoulders, giving them some soft squeezes. “I know you have a job that you love but if I have to leave you here and spend even a single night alone in a bed I really might not survive…it’s a sick form of torture having to try to sleep without the love of my life to cuddle with.” He knows he’s being a bit dramatic but at the same time he’s just being honest and the way your eyes go softer as you look at him through your mirror has him feeling like you might be in the same boat as him.

“Oh…well I can’t have you being tortured.” You tease as Harry bends down so he can place a kiss to the side of your head. “Yes…I’ll come with you next time.” You answer with a smile.

“God I really fucking love you.” You let out a laugh as he grabs the back of your chair and spins it around so he can lean down and grab your face in his hands. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I love you too Harry.” He smiles as you place your hands over his that are cupping your cheeks. “I’m very happy you decided to stalk me in the farmer’s market that one day.”

“I did not stalk you baby that’s-that’s what weirdos do.” He says trying to defend himself making you let out a laugh as he places his hands on the back of your chair, bending down so he’s eye level with you.

“Uh yeah Harry…that was you on the day we met. A tall tattooed weirdo.”

“Yet you’re the one who let me take you home and have my way with you…so who’s the real weirdo here sweetheart?”

“The answer is still you.”

“Okay well…I’m your weirdo at least right?”

“Yes harry you’re my weirdo.”

[daylightmidnights]

I know you’re not feeling well but if you’re motivated could maybe soulmate smells reader have a moment where she misses Harry? Because I miss him😭

Hii babes!! I have some energy today so I hope you enjoy this! 💖

Find Soulmate Smells here

CW: fluff, smut and soulmate style obsession and dirty talk.

Tag List: @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @blckburd @triski73 @mema10 @angeldavis777 @maudie-duan

WC: 3.6K

A/N: This is what I came up with that has you missing Harry and it’s super fluffy and dramatic but also a decent amount of smut because I’m in a mood😂 also I’m sorry if this isn’t the best I feel rusty as hell but I’m getting back in the groove with writing!✨

Summary: Harry goes for a run and you wake up alone and missing him✨

Harry tries his best to be quiet, he knows you’re still probably peacefully tucked in the bed the two of you now share ever since he managed to convince you to move in just a month after meeting you at the farmer’s market. He has a smile on his face as he toes off his running shoes, having gone for a quick little run around the neighborhood after waking up earlier than normal. Even though it slightly pained him to leave you, something he has learned to deal with anytime he has to be more than a few feet away from you, he just leaned down and gently pressed a feather light kiss to the top of your head not wanting to disturb you before heading out of the bedroom. He’s only taken two steps into the kitchen when he hears it, and it has him stopping in his tracks.

Your voice.

“Harry?” He feels as if his heart is being squeezed in his chest as the tiniest hint of sadness works its way into your voice as you call out for him. He turns so he’s facing the hallway the bedroom is on and the sight in front of him nearly has him dropping to his knees at how adorable you look in his faded Rolling Stones shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks because your feet don’t quite like with how chilly the hardwood floors of his house tend to get.

“Harry? You-you weren’t in bed.” Your words are jumbled together with sleep still evident in your tone letting him in on the fact you haven’t been awake that long. He watches as you stand there, right in front of the bedroom door with a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you let out a small yawn and the other knuckling tiredly at your eyes. You have a confused sort of pout on your face and it has Harry rushing down the hall until he’s cupping your face in his hands and tilting your head up ever so slightly so you can look up into his eyes.

“I’m here baby.” His velvety soft voice has a sleepy smile working its way across your face as he leans down to press his lips to your forehead in a sweet and soothing gesture. “I went on a run I didn’t-”

“I missed you.” Your confession is mumbled but Harry hears it just fine. “I woke up all alone and didn’t know where you were.” You explain and your words hit him like a punch in the gut that has his heart threatening to crack open at the thought of you waking up alone and needing him, just for him not to be there.

“I’m sorry sweetheart next time I’ll leave you a note okay?”

“Next time just wake me up.”

“But then you won’t be able to go back to sleep.” He tells you as he leans down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose earning him a quiet little giggle as your hands reach up to cup his face. “You know I don’t like bothering you when you’re asleep.” He adds as he leans back just enough so he can give you a look that has your heart turning to mush at how sweet and genuine it is.

“I woke up when you bumped your toe on the edge of the bed trying to get dressed in the dark. But then I was able to fall back asleep.” This has Harry letting out a sigh, he swore you were still fast asleep when he kissed your head as a silent goodbye.

“Baby.” He whines as he drops his hands down to your hips, resting his forehead against yours. “Why didn’t you say anything?” You let out a small laugh as your arms loosely wrap around his neck while he dips his head into the crook of your neck.

“I didn’t want you to not go…you love your little runs.” You already know the words that are going to leave his mouth are going to be dramatic the moment you feel his lips turn upward into a smile against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Yeah well-” he murmurs as his lips gently place a kiss to your cheek making you smile as his lips hover just a few inches away from yours. “I love you more than my little runs.” He states before placing his lips on yours in a kiss that has you pulling him closer as he slips his tongue past the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss making you let out a hum of approval when one of his hand slides down from your hip until he’s grabbing at the soft flesh of your ass.

Yours hands play with the hair at the nape of his neck when he finally pulls away with a satisfied grin on his face at how flustered you look. Your cheeks are pink and your breathing is a bit uneven as your love filled eyes stare into his. He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, a hand coming up to lightly hold the side of your neck as his thumb gently runs back and forth on the smooth skin of your jaw.

“I just don’t want you giving things up because of me.” You whisper almost as if you don’t really want him to hear you because you know he’s just going to say something ridiculous in response. He doesn’t mean to, but Harry can’t help but roll his eyes at your silly little statement, pulling you closer to him until he’s fully crowding your space, his feet tucked between yours making your hands have to grab onto the material of his tank top to keep yourself balanced.

“There’s nothing more important to me than you.” His voice has that tone to it that has your tummy doing weird little flips, it’s the perfect mixture of his usual gentleness but with a serious undertone, it’s the voice he uses when he really needs you to hear him and understand he means every word he’s saying. “I’d give up everything if it meant you’d be happy.” He tells you softly before he presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss that has you smiling when he pulls away.

“I am happy. I don’t need you to give up running or anything else for that matter.”

“And I don’t need you waking up all sad and pouty.”

“Okay so just start waking me up to tell me goodbye if I’m still asleep when you leave to go run or to the studio or wherever it is you’re going.” A part of Harry’s brain registers that what you’re suggesting is perfectly reasonable. But a larger part, the part that is nothing but thoughts of how much he loves you and is constantly swirling around ways he can keep you around all the time so he has some sort of feeling of wholeness is telling him this suggestion of yours just simply won’t do.

“Or I’ll just never make plans to do anything before you wake up so that way you can just come with me.”

“Harry.”

“Sweetheart.”

“That’s ridiculous you know that right?”

“Oh so wanting to spend every moment with the love of my entire existence- the person who was literally made for me is ridiculous is it?”

“Yes because we both know there’s going to be times when-”

“Don’t say it.” His voice drops as he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against yours. “Please don’t say it.” He knows he sounds absurd begging you not to utter a simple sentence that deep down he knows is the truth, there’s going to be times when the two of you won’t be able to be together. With his job he knows it’s going to be unavoidable but for right now Harry is wanting to enjoy living in the blissful bubble he’s made of having you no further than an arm’s length away, being able to love on your whenever he wants.

“Okay.” You whisper as your hands rest on his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze. “Wanna know a secret?” Your voice is soft but also teasing and it has Harry lifting his head and quirking an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“We have secrets? This is news to me I thought we told each other everything?” He questions making you let out a laugh at his slightly offended facial expression. You cup his face in your hands, a grin playing at the corners of your month when he turns his head so he can kiss the inside of both palms.

“I miss you every time we aren’t in the same room together.” You confess making Harry’s whole body feel like it’s buzzing as his eyes soften and his face breaks out into a grin. During the short amount of time the two of you have been together it’s usually Harry who makes the cheesy confessions while you just smile and tell him you feel the same, this is one of the first times he’s gotten to hear your sweet voice letting him in on how you feel without being prompted.

“I fucking knew it.” He states with a knowing tone and his lips are on yours before you can even get done giggling. You let out a gasp when you feel his strong hands grip the back of your thighs so he can pick you up, your legs wrapping around his middle while your arms go around his neck. “Knew you missed me just as much as I miss you when you’re not around.” He says with a smirk as he carefully carries you into the bedroom, the sun creating a soft warm glow to the room as it peeks through the curtains.

You try to act like his smugness bothers you, with a roll of your eyes as he lays you down on the bed. His bright green eyes stare into yours as he hovers over you, the cocky smirk still on his face as he leans down and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself melting into him as he lets some of his weight fall on your chest as he slots himself between your legs.

“You want me with you all the time don’t you baby?” His breath is warm on your skin, a shiver runs down your spine as his lips place a kiss to the spot just below your ear. “Want me all to yourself right?” He asks between kisses to your jaw.

“Yes.” You answer with a sigh as one of Harry’s hands travels down your side until it lands on the hem of his old t shirt.

“Yeah? Why’s that sweetheart?” His eyes never leave yours as he pushes the worn out fabric up, you watch his eyes darken when he realizes his shirt and your fuzzy socks are the only things you have on. “Christ baby you’re-shit you’re gonna be the death of me.” He says with a laugh as you spread your legs a little wider and bend one of them, placing your foot flat against the soft comforter on the bed.

“You’re the one who got me ready for bed last night.” You remind him with a smile as you run a hand through his hair as he pulls away just long enough to pull his tank top off and toss it to the floor. “You’re sweaty.” You state making Harry just shake his head as a chuckle escapes him before he leans down and places his lips to the side of your neck.

“It’s your fault I’m all sweaty.” You let out a breathy moan as his lips travel down your neck. “Was in a hurry to get back home.” He explains with a smile as he pulls away and hovers over you so his mouth is just a breath away from yours. “Back to you.” You pull him down for a hungry kiss as soon as the words are finished leaving his mouth, he has to fight back a moan as your hands tangle into his hair and your tongue licks into his mouth.

“Harry.” Your voice is a strained whine as he pulls away, but he doesn’t give you reason to pout for long as you feel his hand slide between the two of you until the tip of his index finger is running up and down your slick folds, feeling how wet and needy you are for him.

“Oh my poor baby.” You can’t be bothered to care how needy and desperate you sound as you let out a whine when he continues to tease your entrance with the tip of his finger. “This why you missed me this morning? Because you woke up all achy and needy for me?” He’s slipping his thick digit into your tight hole before you can even think of responding. The moan you let out is whiney and goes straight to Harry’s cock as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of your wetness, he lets out a groan when he feels your hands clawing at his back when he adds a second finger.

“Always-always need you.” You tell him with a moan as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you at a slow and steady pace that has you craving more.

“I know sweetheart.” He coos in your ear as his thumb starts to rub torturously slow circles over your swollen clit causing you to jump at the sensation. “Always gonna need me to make you feel good-make you feel complete isn’t that right baby?”

“Yes.” Harry smiles at how quickly the word rolls off your tongue as he feels your chest press against his when you arch your back when he adds a little more pressure to your clit. “N-need more please.” You whimper and the desperation in your voice has Harry slipping his fingers out of your wet cunt, his lips find yours before you have time to let out a whine of protest. His mouth moves against yours as if kissing you is second nature, knowing exactly how you need to be kissed so your mind doesn’t have time to even process the loss of his fingers being snuggly tucked up inside you. He just needs his lips to distract you a bit as he slightly fumbles to pull down his shorts with one hand while the other keeps him from completely pressing all his weight against you.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls away from you, his hand wrapping around his hard shaft giving it a few tugs before he’s pressing it up against your slick folds. His eyes close for only a moment, taking a deep breath to try to get any sort of grasp he can on his self control because he knows by the way you jump and let out a gasp when all he does is tease your entrance with the tip of his cock that you’re still feeling the effects of the rather intense evening the two of you spent with each other the night before. When his eyes open they meet yours and the dazed smile you give him as you bring a hand up to cup the side of his face has his heart swelling, instantly having him fill with a deep desire to please you anyway he can.

“Hi love.”

“Hi Harry.” He grins as you run your free hand through his hair giving it a light tug.

“I love you.” You let out a soft moan as he starts to slowly push his thick cock inside of you. “So much.” He says with a groan as your hand tightens its grip in his hair, the familiar stretch making a wave of pleasure roll through you as you feel him slowly fill you up inch by inch.

“I love you too.” Harry moans as he feels your walls already pulse around him as he bottoms out, his head falls into the crook of your neck taking a big inhale of your comforting scent that’s mixed with the faintest hint of laundry detergent. Feeling the sense of fullness and a level of completeness only Harry can give you has a mixture of emotions beginning to swirl around in your chest. It has you closing your eyes as you try to not get caught up in the intense feeling of sadness you had in your heart when you woke up for the second time, but this time you were all alone with no clue where the man you’re madly in love with is.

“I…I didn’t like waking up alone and n-not knowing where you were.” Your sudden admission have Harry using both arms to hover over you, so he can make sure you’re able to get a good look at his face.

“Oh sweetheart.” His heart aches and he wants to swear right then and there it won’t ever happen again as your eyes get glassy and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “I’m so sorry-let me make it better baby-let me make it up to you.” He pleads as he pulls out to just the tip before sinking back inside your tight cunt with a slow roll of his hips. “Won’t happen again okay? You’ll never wake up alone again.” He knows he can’t promise that but right now he doesn’t care because he watches your eyes close and your mouth fall open as his hips find a deliciously steady pace, having his cock hit deeper and deeper with every thrust. And when a low moan of pure pleasure followed by his name tumbles out of your parted lips he knows he’s forgiven.

“Missed you so-so much.” Your voice is a mixture of a sigh and a soft moan and it has Harry twitching inside of you.

“Fuck baby I missed you too-was running as fast as I could to get back to you.” He tells you between sloppy kisses to your jaw. “Needed to get home and have you wrapped around me like this so badly baby-shit you have no idea how good your tight pussy feels. It’s heaven and it’s all mine.” You let out a small squeak as his thrusts turn harsher, his lips travel up your jaw until he’s kissing you and you know when the tip of his tongue swipes your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth it’s his way of trying to apologize for the brief moment of discomfort.

“Look at you baby-taking me so well.” He praises as he glances down at where your bodies meet, a low moan bubbling up from deep in his chest as he watches his thick cock disappear into your soaked cunt with each roll of his hips into yours. “Doing so good for me even after I pounded you into the mattress last night until you were a crying mess.” You let out a loud moan as Harry trails a hand down to your chest, softy cupping your breast and giving it a squeeze. “Can feel you squeezing me baby.” He groans as you arch your back into him as the tip of his cock continues to hit the spot that has the pressure building low in your tummy.

“Oh don’t stop-please Harry don’t stop.” You beg as your hands reach to grip the sheets at your sides as you feel your climax threatening to crash into you as Harry starts to give you more determined, desire driven thrusts of his hips. The wet sounds of his cock pumping in and out of your wet cunt fills the room making Harry let out a loud groan.

“God I love the sounds your pussy makes when it’s getting fucked by my big cock baby-you get so wet for me it’s so good.” You feel his lips gently nibble on your earlobe as he gives his hips a little swivel making your hands grab hold of his biceps, your nails dig into his skin as the friction on your swollen clit creates a wave of pleasure that crashes over you.

“Harry-oh god yes yes-oh I love you-so so much oh my god.” Your words are a jumbled mess followed by a cry of his name as your climax hits you like a tidal wave, you see stars as Harry gently fucks you through your release, his own not far behind.

“Shit shit you feel so good baby-fuck please just-just be mine forever I can’t ever go without you oh god oh fuck.” He pants as his thrusts turn quicker and soon you feel the warmth of his release shooting deep inside you, his lips find yours in a kiss that has your hands tangling in his hair as he lets himself fall on top of you, the comforting weight of him making you smile against his lips. The two of you lay in the comfortable silence for a few moments as you try to catch your breath, his head resting on your chest while your hands soothingly run up and down his muscular back.

“That’s the third marriage proposal this week.” Harry lets out a huff as he lifts his head so he can raise an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah well I’ll stop asking when you actually give me an answer.” He teases as he leans down and places a kiss to your lips before laying his head back down on your chest, the fabric of his old t shirt soft against his cheek.

“Yeah well maybe I’ll actually answer when you stop asking while you have your co-”

“I get it.” He says cutting you off with a laugh. “Next time I ask I will make sure we aren’t naked in the bedroom…or the kitchen…or the pool or-”

“Okay okay I get it.”

“I love you baby.” He mumbles into the fabric of his t shirt with a smile. You can’t help but let a silly smile take over your face as you look down at him only to see him staring at you already.

“I love you too Harry.” You watch him move his head so he can place a kiss to the center of your chest over the fabric of his shirt. “Did you really run faster just to get home to me because you missed me?” You softly ask making Harry lift his head as a proud grin works its way onto his face.

“I did. Beat my personal record actually-fastest three miles I’ve ever ran.”

[daylightmidnights]

Summary: You try out a perfume called “soulmate smells” at a local Farmer’s Market and it’s supposed to only smell the same for two people who are meant to be together aka soulmates, it’s a potent blend and might make the person who smells it a little more obsessed than normal. You think nothing of it until a tall, tattooed, brunette, green eyed British man starts to follow you around and then tells you he’s in love with you and that you’re his soulmate. Now luckily for you he’s cute and seems harmless but he’s not shy about telling you how he feels and he’s convinced that by the end of the day you’ll feel the same, even after the perfume wears off.✨

*created this so all the Soulmate stuff can be in one spot*

Trope: Soulmate AU

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!reader

Series Word Count: 21,574 (so far lol)

CW: Smut, explicit dirty talk, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, minor language

Status: Main part is complete, everything else is request based!✨

Tag List: Open

Extras: Here

*you’ll find everything down below in the correct order*

Farmer’s Market

Missed You

Snow Globe

[daylightmidnights]

Summary: Harry Styles being the only male heir is set to become CEO of his family’s company, there’s just two things keeping him from being able to fully take control. He’s not married and he’s not exactly known for being the most confident person, actually people around Styles & Co. would tell you Harry is almost painfully shy and tries keep to himself as much as possible and that’s not a trait people want in the man they’ll soon call their boss. So Harry’s mother takes it upon herself to find someone for her shy, a little bit of a bookworm but extremely kindhearted son who will help break him out of his shell and step into the role of CEO with a bit more confidence, and that person is you. You’re supposed to be Mrs. Styles for a limited time, just long enough to get Harry in his new position and make him comfortable but things take a turn and previously agreed upon terms start to change. ✨

Pairing: CEO!Harry (with a shy twist) x fem!reader

Trope: Arranged Marriage

Story Type: Mini Series (7 parts)

CW: Moments of Insecureness , language, moments of anxiety, shyness, smut.

A/N: I love the idea of Harry being a shy nervous new CEO so figured this mini series would be a great opportunity for that! I hope y’all enjoy, I’m excited for this one it’s gonna be mainly fluffy!

Tag List: Open

Extras: Here

Part 1: Chemistry

Part 2: Meddlesome

Part 3: Trust Me

Part 4: Practice Makes Perfect

[daylightmidnights]

YASSSS Kingrry is here to cure me of all my worries!!

Let me just start with belly bumping. I am crying laughing at this. It's so funny and we should use it more 😭

And why is this so hot!!!!

Harry rolled to his back with a lazy groan and laced his fingers together behind his head. “Climb on, then. Practice away, my little mouse.”

Imagine kingrry putting his hands behind his head and just watching his queen riding him without helping her she's getting tired but he just smarks and teases her but also helps her after a while 😩

“Look at you,” he said, one hand coming to rest at her knee. “Queen of Thornekeep, sat atop her throne.”

Damn right Harry! And her "throne" is also much better than your throne. I'm pretty sure she'd agree 🤭

The council resumed with guarded laughter and polished words. Beneath it, the undertow of resentment ran cold along Y/n’s spine. Tight smiles directed toward her, toward Harry… they were subtle gaps where courtesy ended and something sharper waited, biding its time.

She let her gaze drift briefly away from the fixed smiles and stiff shoulders, searching for something less sharpened. Down the side of the hall, Phoebe stood among the servants, quietly directing the flow of dishes and wine. Niall bent to say something as their heads drew close enough that a curl of Phoebe’s hair skimmed his sleeve. When she gestured, their fingers touched for a breath, an innocent brush to anyone not paying attention, but Y/n knew the meaning behind the softened expression on Phoebe’s face.

I can literally feel how tense the atmosphere in the room is. Poor yn has to sit with all of these unfamiliar people who can't stand her, she's not safe amongst them. It's so sad but at least she has a supportive husband. And it's very heartwarming that she's looking towards Phoebe and it's like her safe space and temporary comfort. But more than that I'm baffled by their behaviour towards Harry because he's their own in a sense, they've seen him grow up in front of them and he's now their King, he was always meant to be their King but they have no obedience towards him let alone respect

“You did everything right,” he countered. “You kept your head, you didn’t rise to their bait. That is worth more than you think.”

His hand pressed lightly at her back as they climbed the stairs. “You needn't overthink, mouse. Not a soul in that room deserves concern.”

Harry has come so far. Can't believe this is the same man who wanted her just to defy them. Now he's whipped. So in love. Also I love when he calls her mouse. What a weird little nickname right? But so cute and wholesome at the same time

"Do not open the door to anyone but me or Niall.”

This must feel so suffocating. Living like this. My poor babies. They have to be worried all the time

These buffoons tried to kill her. Oh my God the audacity. I hope they rot in hell. Can't wait to see what happens next.

Thank you for whatever you do for us Guru. Love you so much ❤️

[7] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST | It's Good to Be King Masterlist

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 7 Word Count: 8k

Ch. 7 Warning: smut, political manipulation, classist remarks, attempted poisoning, threat of violence

. .

"Goodness. What an appetite you have, mouse," Harry drawled into Y/n's hair.

They'd only just woken from their nap, her body humming with that wild, fresh desire all over again. What a pleasure it was to enjoy the thrill of belly bumping, as Harry had dubbed it after breakfast. They still had hours before they were due to emerge from their marital bed with no obligations until the dinner hour.

"To practice," she smiled, her skin hot, thighs practically quivering already at just the thought as she guided her thigh over his hip and kissed at his collarbone.

Harry rolled to his back with a lazy groan and laced his fingers together behind his head. “Climb on, then. Practice away, my little mouse.”

Practice. It wasn't precisely that, but it was something close. She was determined to reach her peak while he was inside of her, not just from his fingers and mouth.

She pushed up to her knees and looked down at her husband, devil-grin, hair a shambles, bare chest still flushed with sleep. A dangerous man, but hers. She straddled him, settling her thighs over his hips as he looked up at her with open admiration.

“Look at you,” he said, one hand coming to rest at her knee. “Queen of Thornekeep, sat atop her throne.”

“Don’t tease,” she said, though the smile tugging at her mouth betrayed her fondness for it.

“I would never,” he said, voice thickening. His other hand rose, tracing slowly up her outer thigh, then across her hip, until it came to rest just below her belly. “Shall I guide you?”

She nodded, scooting herself in closer and pressing her palms into his chest as she lifted. He took himself in hand and clutched her hip with the other as she positioned herself over him, breath catching as she felt the broad tip of him press against her already sopping coo. Even with the wetness gathered between her thighs, the stretch took her breath. It was a lot, but she'd started to grow used to the way it felt. How he felt when he was pushing into her.

Harry’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak, only kept one hand steady at her hip and the other wrapped loosely around the base of his cock, easing her down inch by inch.

When she took him fully, she stilled, her breath ragged, head bowed as her body adjusted. The ache from having him inside of her earlier had hardly dulled, but it was still new and felt so nice… thick, full, so intimate it nearly frightened her.

“You’ve got me,” he whispered, smoothing his hand over her flank. “You’re doin’ so well, sweet girl.”

She nodded, eyes fluttering shut. Then, slowly, she lifted her hips and lowered again, testing the motion. The friction made her gasp softly.

“That's it,” Harry said, watching her with open hunger, but holding still beneath her. “Move just like that. Take what you need.”

She began to move with a bit more confidence, sliding up and down along him, her hands braced on his chest. Her hips found a rhythm, and she heard herself whimper, the feeling settling low in her spine, much deeper than before. Like her body was beginning to understand how to move on him, how to truly enjoy the sensation.

Her thighs trembled. She pressed forward a little more this time, leaning over him, and Harry reached for her, one hand cupping her breast, the other sliding down between them. His fingers found where their bodies met and began to stroke her in time with the rise and fall of her hips.

The sensation was dizzying. She let out a small cry and pressed harder into his hand, her pace growing erratic.

“Is it building?” he asked, voice low and reverent.

She nodded, nearly frantic. “Yes, I think, don’t stop—”

But it wasn’t immediate. The ache in her thighs began to make itself known, and her body was still learning him. Still adjusting to the steady, deep presence of him inside her. Her breaths came in uneven bursts, every rise and fall of her hips pushing little tremors up her spine, but the edge she was chasing felt maddeningly far.

Harry didn’t rush her. His eyes stayed fixed on her face, a faint smile tugging at his mouth as though he could feel every stammer of her rhythm. His thumb pressed and circled in a slow, sure pattern that seemed to remind her body where to go, coaxing each flicker of pleasure into something more certain.

“Easy,” he murmured. “Breathe, mouse. Let it come to you.”

She drew in a shaky breath, willing her muscles to loosen, hips to find that steady grind that sent the warmth pooling lower. Her head tipped back as her pace smoothed, the friction growing richer, more insistent.

“That’s better,” Harry said quietly, almost to himself. His free hand slid up her side, fingers brushing the swell of her breast, and the lightness of his touch there made her shiver.

The tension built slowly, coiling deeper with each stroke of his thumb, each long slide of him inside her. She could feel herself clenching around him more readily now, the wet sounds between them matching the heat burning in her cheeks.

He leaned forward just enough for his lips to graze the top of her breast. “There you are… you’ve got it now.”

Her hands flexed against his chest, nails faintly catching on his skin as the sensation swelled higher. Every muscle in her body seemed to hum with the effort to keep moving, to keep chasing the crest she could feel looming.

“Harry—” It was half his name, half a gasp. Her hips faltered for a moment before he pressed his hand firmer at her hip, guiding her back into motion.

“Stay with me,” he coaxed. “You’re right there. Don’t run from it.”

The pressure was unbearable now, twisting low in her belly, spreading down her thighs. She couldn’t help the way her pace quickened, the small, helpless sounds slipping past her lips.

“Look at me,” he said. She did, and the heat in his gaze, the utter focus, was enough to push her over.

Her body seized in a sudden, violent tremor, a cry torn from her throat as pleasure surged through her in gooey waves. She gasped, mouth falling open, back arching, her entire body locking as pleasure swept through her in a tremor. She cried out again, riding it down in shuddering waves until her legs gave out and she collapsed onto him, panting.

Harry groaned beneath her, gathering her in his arms, pressing kisses wherever he could reach. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, voice wrecked with awe. “That’s it, little mouse.”

Harry’s own control frayed just seconds later. A low groan rumbled from his chest as his hips drove up into her twice more before he spilled with a rough curse, pulling her down to crush her to his chest.

They both lay together, warm, hearts beating wildly, both catching their breath. She pressed her cheek to his shoulder. His hand stroked idly over her back and down to the curve of her bottom, reveling in the feel of her like that on him. His wife, satisfied and nuzzling into him gently.

She smiled into his skin. It felt so good to finally achieve her release with him inside of her, and it felt better than she imagined it would. Her body was thrumming.

“That’s my girl,” he said at last, his voice still thick and warm. “I shall never grow tired of this.”

Eventually, they both shifted, and Y/n slid off slowly. Harry held her hips and steadied her, watching the pull of their bodies part with a satisfied breath. “Let’s have a bath drawn. We’re a sight.”

It wasn't long before someone was filling their tub and pouring oil in it. They waited on the balcony with a bowl of grapes, the cool air needling pleasantly at skin still flushed. He glanced over at his queen and felt a quiet, baffling pride. He’d always preferred to rise and go, or have them go, after a romp. Softness had never been his habit with anyone. With her, it was becoming one.

The maid popped her head out, gaze lowered. "Your bath awaits."

Steam curled into the air from the copper as Y/n sank into the tub once they were alone again. Harry eased in behind her, his knees bracketing her hips, the heat of his chest a steady weight at her back. Warm water lapped at her collarbones as she sank against him.

“They’ll expect to examine the sheets,” she said, remembering the old cruelty of it.

“They can expect what they like,” he said, smoothing a wet palm over her thigh. “I’m not having anyone pawing through our bedclothes like carrion birds. I know what we did. That’s enough.”

She smiled. “Saving my dignity, or simply defying them?”

“Both,” he said, mouth brushing her temple. “Let them talk. It’s all they ever do.” He paused. “Some will do more than talk, if given the chance.”

She glanced back at him, but his expression gave little away, only that guarded edge she was beginning to recognise. But she understood his restraint now. A king disliked and second-guessed by many, a man who saved the unarmored parts for her.

They lingered in the water until the heat began to thin, the oil-slicked surface cooling against their skin. Harry’s hands roamed idly along her arms and waist, with the quiet possessiveness of a man content to keep close what was his.

When they finally stepped out, the air in the chamber felt cool and clean, smelling faintly of the rosemary oil still clinging to their skin. A fire had been refreshed in the hearth, and fresh towels were waiting.

Phoebe appeared quietly with Y/n’s gown for the evening, her hands already busy with laces and fastenings. Even though she couldn't hear or see it, she knew that just beyond the door, the castle stirred with people and workers in preparation for that night's dinner.

As Phoebe tightened the final tie at Y/n’s back, she leaned in slightly, her voice low. “Bit of commotion in the kitchens today. Steward’s got the staff whispering.”

“What about?” Y/n asked.

“About you. About him. Same as always." She rolled her eyes.

Harry emerged from behind the screen, shrugging into his evening coat as he caught the tail end of Phoebe’s words. “They’ve been whispering since the day I fetched you,” he said simply, fastening his cuff. “We’ll give them something worth whispering about. As always.” He grinned.

When at last they’d donned their finery, velvet and linen laid heavy with jewels, Harry offered his arm and they stepped out together. The glow of the sconces painted the stone in warm gold, but it did nothing to soften the sting of eyes that followed them as they passed. Some looks slipped away the moment Harry’s gaze swept over them; others held, unblinking. Y/n felt each one.

Harry kept his stride steady. The set of his shoulders made plain he noted every glance and dared any tongue to try its luck.

The torchlight flickered along the marble hall as they moved together, their steps echoing through the vaulted space. She could feel the weight of the room waiting for them before they even reached it. Tonight’s dinner would be their first appearance together since their wedding night. The long mahogany table was already thick with familiar figures: council members in their heavy robes, governors and lords from the outlying regions, ladies in silks and pearls. A few smiles met them, polite and brittle; more faces wore the tight, assessing look of people hunting fault.

The table itself was set like something from a storybook with garlands of winter greenery wound between tall silver candelabras, the flames bowing with each shift in the air. Y/n caught the scent of roasted game before she saw it, platters borne past by gloved attendants. There was braised lamb with buttered roots, steaming bowls of delicate consommé, and for later, she overheard, rosewater sorbet and sugared fruits for the sweet course. It was all beautiful, excessive, and just a little overwhelming. Every movement was choreographed, every dish placed with quiet detail.

At the head of the table, Harry and Y/n took their seats side by side. A hush slid over the hall, punctuated only by the soft placement of cutlery against plates and the low thrum of greeting. She felt the weight of every pair of eyes… some respectful, others glacial, barely hidden behind forced smiles.

The Lord Chancellor, robed in rich plum silk, cleared his throat, lifting one glass and addressing the assembled. “Your Majesty, may your union be a fortress in this realm as strong as steel, and as true as the mountain’s heart.”

Crystal goblets lifted and chimed through the vaulted ceiling. Y/n breathed in the scent of spiced wine and simmering meats, her heart fluttering between pride and dread in equal measure. She knew better than to fall for the Chancellor's kind words. Harry had reminded her before they sat that everything was a performance.

Across the table, the Privy Councillor with his neatly trimmed, stiff moustache, his gaze raked over her with mounting ire. Moments later, his voice carried, oiled for courtesy, sharpened for insult. “Surely, as queen, Lady Styles must be instructed further in courtly matters. One cannot expect a street-borne girl to know every thread of protocol.”

And there it was, the crumbling of the facade. It'd happened much faster than Y/n assumed it would. The hush tightened around them. Conversation flickered and died among the councilmen. Heat rose along Y/n’s skin as she drew in a measured breath.

Harry’s hand brushed beneath the table to rest over hers. His eyes, partially hidden in the candelight, conveyed an unspoken warning. The edge in his tone when he replied sounded soft, but carried the weight of command. “My wife, your Queen, learns quickly. But if any among us stand ignorant of new beginnings, it is the realm that shall suffer, not she.”

There was an exhale of relief from Y/n, and a ripple of stiff silence across the table, only broken when a herald called for the next course to be brought. A sweet truffle enrobed dish appeared on a silver tray with a silky aroma drifting around the room as if tensions had not been notched up so suddenly.

The council resumed with guarded laughter and polished words. Beneath it, the undertow of resentment ran cold along Y/n’s spine. Tight smiles directed toward her, toward Harry… they were subtle gaps where courtesy ended and something sharper waited, biding its time.

She let her gaze drift briefly away from the fixed smiles and stiff shoulders, searching for something less sharpened. Down the side of the hall, Phoebe stood among the servants, quietly directing the flow of dishes and wine. Niall bent to say something as their heads drew close enough that a curl of Phoebe’s hair skimmed his sleeve. When she gestured, their fingers touched for a breath, an innocent brush to anyone not paying attention, but Y/n knew the meaning behind the softened expression on Phoebe’s face.

The warmth of the sight was quickly chased away when another voice rose from further down the table. Lord Wescott, if she remembered correctly, with his ruddy cheeks and an ingrained smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “I had thought the Lord Mayor would be seated with us tonight,” he said, as if speaking to no one in particular, though the sound carried easily over the hum of conversation. “Strange not to see him at his usual post.”

A few others shifted in their chairs, the rustle of fabric and the faint scrape of knives against plates marked the pause that followed.

Harry set down his fork with deliberate slowness. “It is not strange to me,” he said, his voice even. “The Lord Mayor’s presence is no longer required at this table, or on the council.”

“Oh?” Wescott’s brows lifted in feigned surprise, his spoon poised midair as he looked around the table at the others. “I had not heard. How unfortunate. I do hope it was not for anything too… unseemly.”

A current of polite laughter and a few cleared throats stirred, too light to be genuine. Y/n curled her fingers against the fabric of her gown. She knew that no one in that room was not privy to what had passed.

Harry’s gaze didn’t waver. “Unseemly enough,” he said. “And enough said of it.”

The words settled like a stone in the center of the table. Conversation trickled back in fits and starts, but the voices were more subdued now, cautious, the careful retying of masks after a slip.

Somewhere down the table, Wescott was speaking again, his tone lighter, almost bored. “Ah well… perhaps we’ll see better cheer at the feast next month. My cousin in Bellerose, fine man, master confectioner, has promised to send a cart of his sugared chestnuts. If the kitchens will let him in, that is.”

A few polite murmurs met the remark, and the subject drifted elsewhere. Y/n would have thought nothing of it, had she not noticed the way his eyes passed briefly over her before he looked away.

Y/n let her eyes drop to the truffle on her plate, her appetite dulled. She could feel the glances, the measured way people looked at her when they thought her attention was elsewhere. But she was right there, feeling every awful eye lurking.

She pressed her fork into the soft truffle, more to have something to do with her hands than out of any real hunger. The richness of the dish sat heavy on her tongue, but every swallow felt like forcing down a stone. The hum of conversation carried on around her, but she was lost in her head, wishing she and Harry were back alone in their chambers together.

A steward stepped forward to refill her glass, his movements efficient. She caught the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if he’d swallowed words he wished to say. Sometimes it was hard to know who was for or against her.

On Harry’s other side, the Earl of Broadmere leaned in to speak across him, bypassing Y/n entirely as though she were not there. “Your Majesty, the southern border’s levy will be due for review come spring. I do hope we’ll see familiar hands overseeing it.”

Harry didn’t take his eyes off his wine as he replied, “We’ll see competent hands. Familiarity is hardly the measure.”

The Earl smiled without a measure of warmth. “Of course. Competence above all.”

Even in so few words, Y/n heard the scrape beneath the polish, the way it slid beneath the polite surface. She reached for her goblet, hoping the wine might dull the edges pressing at her ribs.

Across the table, Phoebe caught her eye briefly, just long enough for the smallest reassuring nod before turning to direct a footman. Niall had already set himself to watchfulness, gaze moving over the room with the sense of a man who knew when the air was changing. He slid his gaze, pausing briefly, on one or two faces before returning to his post.

The next course arrived, and for a few minutes, the sounds of knives and forks overtook the chatter. But even the clink of silver seemed subdued, every gesture measured as though the entire table was waiting for someone, anyone, to speak plainly.

Harry did not indulge them, for his purpose was to spare Y/n any undue burden. Were it not for her presence, he might have spoken out with far less restraint. He carried on eating with the same deliberate calm as before, speaking only when spoken to, and then with such concise civility that no one could take hold of his words to twist them. It was a skill Y/n envied. That ability to command the room not by filling the air, but by controlling its silences.

She wished she could say she was unmoved by the atmosphere, but the truth was it clung to her, seeping into her skin despite the king's aim to shield her. The day had been just lovely before the dinner. But this was her new role; her new station’s price. And she understood that all of this was just the beginning. She would grow used to the disdain, to the ease with which she was overlooked. She would have to.

When the final course was cleared and the last of the wine poured, Harry rose from his seat, offering his arm to her. The scrape of chairs and the muted shuffle of attendants filled the hall as the assembly began to disperse, the low buzz of conversation returning now that the evening’s formality was over. Still, she felt the eyes, some following them openly, others hidden behind the dip of a head or the rim of a cup.

Harry guided her out through the double doors, the heavy wood closing behind them with a muted thud. The echoing quiet of the corridor was a relief after the close press of the great hall.

“You did well,” he said at last, his tone calm.

“I didn’t do anything."

“You did everything right,” he countered. “You kept your head, you didn’t rise to their bait. That is worth more than you think.”

She pushed out a humourless laugh. “It felt more like shrinking than keeping my head.”

His hand pressed lightly at her back as they climbed the stairs. “You needn't overthink, mouse. Not a soul in that room deserves concern.”

By the time they reached their chambers, the air inside was warm and the fire was throwing soft light over the thick rugs and the freshly turned-down bed. Y/n exhaled deeply as her shoulders loosened for the first time since they'd left for dinner. Harry helped her out of her heavier outer layers, setting her crown aside.

When she sat on the edge of the bed, he knelt briefly to remove her shoes, his fingers brushing lightly against her ankle. “You’re quiet as a mouse,” he said, a small grin lifting the edges of his lips. He was trying to lift her spirits the best he could.

“I’m tired,” she admitted, but smiling back at his jest. “And I don’t want to think of them any longer tonight.”

He looked up at her, his expression soft. “Good. Nor do I.”

Drawing her back against the pillows, he stretched out beside her, the scent of rosemary oil still clinging to them both. She rested her head against his shoulder, the slow beat of his heart steady under her ear. His hand found hers beneath the blankets, fingers lacing with her own.

.

Y/n woke to the chill in their room, the fire only an ember-glow now. She felt it on her shoulder first, cool against the heat where Harry had slept. She sighed and stretched her limbs.

He made a sound low in his throat when she shifted, the kind of sleepy, unguarded noise she’d never have imagined coming from a king. His arm tightened over her waist, drawing her back into the warm space of him. She could feel the steady rise of his chest at her spine, his breath coasting over the line of her neck.

“Don’t move,” he said, voice still rough with sleep. “I’m very comfortable.”

“You’re heavy,” she said, though she didn’t mean it as a complaint.

“Hmm.” He slid his hand up, palm flattening just beneath her ribs, the weight of it loving. “Just a little longer, mouse.”

They lay like that for a while, listening to the small sounds of morning, the tick of the flue in the chimney, and the smallest crack of the embers in the hearth. Her fingers drifted lazily over the back of his wrist, tracing over his skin and the raised pale line that crossed into his flesh, the ghost of some long-ago nick. He let her look without commentary, only pressing his warm mouth to the curve where neck became shoulder.

When she finally turned to face him, his hair was a mess, stubborn pieces falling into his eyes. He didn’t bother to push them back. He just watched her with that softened version of his gaze she’d only ever seen when the doors were locked and the world was on the other side. His thumb skimmed the corner of her mouth, and she felt the tug of a smile before it formed.

“What?” she asked.

“You look like you’ve stolen something,” he said. “And you’re deciding whether to run.”

“Will you chase me?”

“Across the whole of Thornekeep. And beyond. Wherever you run to, I'll follow. You cannot escape.”

He kissed her then, tasting of warm sleep. It was indulgent, slow, as if he were embracing his newly discovered permission to take his time with her. She answered in kind, fingers slipping into his hair, and a small, greedy sound came from her throat.

He rolled to his back and drew her with him until she was straddling his hips, the blanket sliding to her waist. The air was cool on her skin, but his hands were warm where they curved around her thighs. He looked up at her like a man cataloguing a private collection.

“Morning suits you,” he said, thumbs stroking along the inside of her knees.

She leaned down to kiss him again, slower, and felt him answer under her, heat, thick with promise. When she shifted against him, he inhaled sharply and his hands skimmed to her hips without thought, guiding her along, not pushing. She felt the girth of him, the inevitable path of it, and the awareness sent a slow ache spiraling low.

“Harry,” she moaned his name into the room.

“Here,” he told her, voice diffused at the edges. He settled one palm at the small of her back and the other just above her hip, the way a commander might place a soldier before a charge. He guided her gingerly to her back. The blanket fell away from her. He kissed her once more, then another just under her jaw, charting an unhurried path: throat, the hollow at her collarbone, the soft rise of her breast. His mouth was patient, and when she arched, he murmured into her skin, “Easy,” as if that word alone could loosen the tightness in her ribs.

“May I assist?” he asked against her sternum, not quite a question, not quite a command.

She nodded, the sound she made small and helpless.

He slid lower, palms smoothing along her sides to her hips. A kiss to her belly. Another. Then lower still, his breath was warm where the morning air was cool. He eased her knees apart with his hands and leveled his head with her quim.

The first lick was exploratory, but the second one was intentional. He took his time, attentive, listening with his mouth, answering every tremor with a gentler pass of his tongue, then a little more pressure, then retreating to tease when her fingers curled in the linen. When she slid her fingers into his hair, he stilled to glance up, checking her face before chasing the sound he’d drawn out of her once again with a broad lave of tongue.

“There you are. Nice and wet.”

Heat built in languid, tidy circles, one hand anchoring her thigh, the other splayed wide over her belly to keep her from holding herself too tight. She tried to swallow the noises he coaxed from her, but they slipped out anyway, small pieces of her coming loose under his mouth. He hummed, and the vibration tipped the feeling hotter, closer.

“Harry—” Her voice cracked.

She let her head fall back, let the ceiling blur. The world narrowed to the pull of his mouth and the sure press of his fingers, and she felt the edges begin to gather, bright and warm—

A sudden knock cut cleanly through the room. They froze. Then the sound came again, three measured raps that belonged to duty and daybreak, not to them.

Harry’s hand tightened at her thigh, a mute refusal. He rested his forehead there for a heartbeat as he swore softly under his breath, and then lifted his head. He exhaled raggedly, eyes already hardening into the day’s version of himself.

“I’m going to kill whoever that is,” he said.

He reached up, pulled the blanket over her with a gentleness at odds with the muscle ticking in his jaw, and pressed one last, apologetic kiss to the inside of her knee. “Do not move,” he said, and stood to answer the door, grabbing a robe on the way.

He cracked the door, robe hanging loose at his hips. Fred stood there with his eyes somewhere near the lintel, voice pitched low. “Your Majesty… apologies. An urgent sitting of the council regarding the Lord Mayor's dismissal of duties. His Grace, the Duke Hughes, has called it. The Proctor requests your presence at once.”

Harry’s jaw went hard. “Of course he has. I will be down at once.” He shut the door with a quiet click, raked a hand through his hair, and looked back at her with unsteady breath, a sheet pulled up over her body as she watched him with wide eyes. The apology was in his face before he spoke.

“I have to go.”

“I gathered,” she said, trying for lightness and not quite finding it as she sat up.

He crossed to the clothes press in three strides, dragging on breeches, then a shirt, talking as he buttoned. “Stay here. Eat. I’ll send Phoebe in with a tray. Tea, fruit, something warm. You need to eat. Do not open the door to anyone but me or Niall.���

He knelt to pull on his boots, glanced up, and the edge in him eased. “I’ll finish what I started when I return,” he added, softer. “You have my word.”

A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth, but she did not respond. She held the front of the sheet to her breast as she watched him quietly. He stood and leaned in, stole a quick kiss, then another, less quick, as if he couldn’t help himself. When he drew back, he was already fastening his waistcoat.

He pulled the door open wide and raised his voice just enough to carry down the corridor. “Phoebe!”

She appeared only a few counts later, breathless from the stairs, hands already smoothing her apron when she saw him dressed. “Your Majesty?”

“A breakfast tray for the Queen. Hot tea. And have the fire built up. She’s not to be disturbed otherwise.”

Phoebe dipped her head. “Right away, my lord.” She flicked a quick glance past him toward Y/n, worry and something warmer in it, then vanished down the hall.

“Niall,” Harry called, and the guard stepped from his post, straight-backed. “With me. The council will need your account, and I want their ears full of it.”

“Yes, Majesty.” Niall’s gaze slid once to Y/n through the doorway before he fell in behind the king.

Harry turned back one last time. “Bolt the door,” he said, gentler now. “I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”

She nodded and did as he asked, the heavy metal dropping into place the moment she crossed to the door. Through the wood, she heard the muted cadence of his boots and Niall’s, the murmur of Fred’s voice as they moved away, then the hush of the corridor swallowing them.

Silence settled, save for the weak crackle of the embers and the rasp of her own breath. She lay back into the bed, the sheet cool where his mouth had been warm, and let her eyes close for a moment, the promise he’d left her with lingering like heat in the room.

A few minutes later, there was a knock to the door and the muffled sound of Phoebe on the other side. Y/n crossed the room, lifted the latch, and Phoebe slipped inside with a robe over her arm and a small, conspiratorial smile. “Fire first,” she whispered, already feeding kindling to the hearth. “Then tea. And I’ll tell the footmen to keep everyone else well away.”

Phoebe had the room humming again by the time Y/n had settled into the lounge with tea, logs stacked and catching, curtains parted just so to pull a ribbon of pale light across the carpet. She set a low table near where Y/n sat and began arranging a tray. A covered dish breathing steam, a plate of sliced pear glossed with honey, a small mound of sugared pastilles, and a pot of dark tea that smelled faintly of orange peel.

“Sit with me,” Y/n said, drawing her robe closed. “You’ll make me nervous if you keep dusting things that are already clean.”

Phoebe laughed under her breath and obeyed, perching at the edge of the seat like a girl who hadn’t quite learned to take her ease. “It’s only habit. The steward prowls this hall like a cat.”

“Let him prowl. Doors closed,” Y/n said, pouring. “You’ve earned a cup.”

They drank together, steam fogging the space between them.

“Will they be very long?” Phoebe asked carefully.

Y/n shrugged one shoulder. “Long enough to make mischief of something simple, I imagine. Harry said they wanted Niall to speak.”

Phoebe’s mouth softened at his name before she caught herself. Y/n noticed and smiled into her cup. She had been enjoying watching the pair secretly dance around their feelings in front of others.

“He is very steady,” Y/n said mildly. “Even at dinner last night, when everyone else was crisp with pretense, he appeared… unmoved.”

Phoebe traced a finger along the saucer’s rim. “He is not like the others,” she smiled shyly. “He looks and listens before he speaks. I… like that.”

“You like him,” Y/n said. Reminding Phoebe that there were no secrets between them.

Phoebe’s cheeks warmed. “I like that he says as little as he must,” she tried again, failing at indifference. “And that when I pass, he always—he nods.” She laughed at herself. “Listen to me. Mooning over a nod.”

“It’s not the nod,” Y/n said softly. “It’s who it comes from. Anymore kisses?”

Phoebe peeked up through her lashes, as if testing whether the air would hold such talk. “Yes… but hardly worth the telling. Far too quick. And someone’s always about, ruining the best bits.”

“That will come,” Y/n assured her, voice warm with certainty. “And when it does, you’ll not be thinking of time at all.”

“And you,” Phoebe smiled wider, changing the focus away from herself, “are… happy this morning?”

Y/n felt the heat of Harry still, a flush that had nothing to do with the fire. She let her smile arrive slowly. “He is learning me,” she said, a little breathless even in memory. “And I think I am learning him.”

Phoebe’s answering grin was wicked and tender all at once. “About time someone taught the King patience.”

Y/n tipped her head back and laughed, the sound loosening something that the previous night's dinner had tightened. They fell into an easy hush after that. Y/n breaking a piece of bread, Phoebe buttering it with a practised hand; the small, home-like act almost comical against velvet drapes and gold-stitched cushions.

When a knock came, Phoebe stood and answered, calling back to Y/n. "It's Evan with a second tray of food."

Even though Harry had told her not to let anyone but Niall or Phoebe enter the room, she felt there was no harm in allowing the footman entry. He only came with more food from the kitchen. She'd seen Evan in passing before and decided to allow it, waving him in. The new tray was set with warm rolls, a dish of eggs baked with cream and herbs, a tiny pie whose crust shone with glaze, and a neat row of jewel-bright sweetmeats dusted with fine sugar. He set it down and bowed to both of them with the stiff care of someone warned thrice to behave.

“The pantry clerk sends their compliments by way of Mr. Hawkins,” he managed. “Shall I bring aught else, madam?”

“This is perfect,” Y/n said, and his shoulders lowered by a hair before he backed out.

“Sweet afters before noon,” Phoebe murmured, amused. “They’re trying to please you.”

“Or bribe me into liking them,” Y/n returned, but there was no bite in it. She touched the corner of one sugared morsel with a fingertip and left it for later, reaching instead for the warm roll.

The room held its peace, but the peace felt merited. Beyond the walls, the castle’s ordinary life stirred quietly at the edges: cart wheels rattling in the yard, a bell sounding from the chapel, the distant tramp of boots on the far stair.

. .

Down the length of the council chamber, the Duke Hughes drummed two fingers against the arm of his chair and called for order. The long table was a field of papers and inkpots, the air heavy with wax and damp wool. Harry stood rather than sit, the better to look down the line of faces that would be his weather, rain or clear, for as long as he wore the crown.

“The charge is simple,” the Proctor read, spectacles low on his nose. “Unauthorized seizure of Her Majesty Y/n of Thornekeep from royal quarters at dawn three days past; public humiliation; removal of a jewel of the Crown.”

“Alleged,” Lord Wescott drawled.

“Witnessed,” Harry corrected, voice flat. “Proceed.”

Names were recorded, movements accounted for, the Lord Mayor’s allies making a show of doubt that failed to hide its choreography. When it came time for a witness, Niall stepped forward without flourish and placed one hand on the leather-bound book the clerk thrust at him. He did not lift his eyes to the gallery when he spoke to the Proctor as though the room were otherwise empty.

“State your name and station.”

“Niall Horan, assigned to the King’s personal guard.”

“And what did you see?”

“I stood at the door to Her Majesty's quarters,” he said, his voice even. “The Lord Mayor arrived with two men and declared that, in the King’s absence, his word was law. He ordered the Queen removed. When she resisted, the men pushed her. She fell to her knees and hands on the stair. I helped her to rise.”

“Did the Lord Mayor touch her?”

“No,” Niall said. “He ordered the handling, watched, and then he took the brooch from her before he had her dragged out to the horse cart.”

Wescott shifted. “You expect us to hang a man on a scraped knee and a trinket?”

Harry’s gaze cut to him. “I expect you not to confuse cowardice with cleverness. Assault upon the Queen’s person is an affront to the Crown.”

A breath of amusement, nervous, unwise, passed down the table and died when the Duke lifted a hand. “Enough. The Proctor has his witness. We shall vote on the draft of removal and fine, and on whether the Lord Mayor is to be confined to his house until further order.”

“Confinement,” Harry said, “and his seal taken. He will not sign a single line in this kingdom again unless I allow it.” He leaned both palms to the table, the pose calm, the message not. “Write it.”

Quills scratched. Someone coughed into a handkerchief. Niall stepped back to his place at Harry’s shoulder and resumed his watch, a plain man under plain orders, yet the hinge upon which the morning turned.

. .

By the time Y/n was fully dressed and ready for the day, her nerves had settled into something like steadiness. She and Phoebe sat cross-legged on the rug with the newly delivered tray between them like children pilfering the pantry.

“Tell me truly,” Phoebe said, lowering her voice as if the gilt cornices might eavesdrop. “Does he speak kindly when no one’s looking?”

“When no one’s looking,” Y/n said, thinking of the way he had set his mouth against her skin and murmured nonsense as if it were a holy text, “he forgets to be a king.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Phoebe teased.

“It is,” Y/n said, smiling crookedly. “I rather like it.”

The latch lifted once, and Niall filled the doorway. He didn’t enter immediately, only took in the room with that quick, whole glance soldiers have: fire, windows, the two women safe on the floor, the untouched plate of sugared afters glinting like small jewels.

“Majesty,” he said with a nod to Y/n, then to Phoebe, softer. “Miss.”

Phoebe stood so fast she nearly upset the tea. “Is it done?”

“For now,” Niall said. “They write the instrument to strip him of office. His Grace will keep him to his house until the seal is taken. The King will come soon, when he’s set his hand to it.”

Relief loosened Y/n’s lungs. “Thank you,” she said. She gestured to the trays. “There’s food, if you’ve not eaten.”

"With your permission, Majesty.” He crossed to them, bending toward the plate. The movement was ordinary but the way his expression changed was not. Something flinted through his eyes, alert and hard.

“Don’t—” he said, already reaching toward her.

Y/n's fingers were at her lips when he knocked her hand aside, the sugared morsel flying. It struck the carpet and burst into glittering shards. In the same motion, his forearm swept the plate clean; the rest scattered like thrown dice. Phoebe yelped, knocking into her teacup, a wash of tea licking over the saucer and onto the rug.

“Niall!” Phoebe gasped his name in shock.

“Forgive me, Majesty.” He stepped between Y/n and the wreckage and dragged the low table back with his boot. His voice stayed level, though his body had gone to iron. “Did any of it touch your tongue? Or yours?” He turned to look at Phoebe.

“No. No, I hadn’t had the chance—”

"Nor I."

“Rinse your mouth all the same.” He yanked the bellpull hard enough that the brass struck the wall, then crouched, wrapping a handkerchief around his fingers to pick up one of the ruined sweets. He held it to his nose and flinched, jaw tightening. “Almond-bitter,” he said, low. “Wrong.”

Phoebe was already at the pitcher, sloshing water into a cup with shaking hands. “Poison?” she whispered.

“Maybe. Do not go near the tray,” Niall answered, not lifting his gaze. “Both of you.”

The door pushed open as Harry strode in, cold air chasing him. He stopped at the sight before him with sugar grit in the carpet, tea bleeding into wool, and Niall on one knee with a cloth-wrapped sweet in his hand.

“What in God’s name happened here?” Harry’s voice landed like a blade. “What is this?”

"Someone has tampered with the afters."

Harry took one look at Y/n’s face before he looked anywhere else and continued. “Are you harmed?”

She shook her head. “No. He stopped me.”

Harry’s gaze cut to Niall. “Good man.” Then, to the corridor, voice like a crack of ice. “Fred!”

The door hadn’t even finished closing behind Harry before Fred appeared, breathless. Harry didn’t raise his tone; he did not need to. “Seal the kitchens. Postern gates, scullery stairs, stillroom, confectioner’s pantry. No one in, no one out. Send the physician and the apothecary to this room. Find the Master of Household, the under-butler who signed for this tray, the confectioner, and the maid who carried it. They go under guard to the small council chamber. Now.”

Fred fled without a single word.

Harry crouched by Niall, eyeing the cloth-wrapped shard. “Laurel-water?” he asked, low.

Niall inclined his head once. “Could be. It stinks of almond.”

Harry’s jaw flexed. He straightened, kicked the scattered sweets farther from the hearth with the side of his boot, and shifted back to Y/n. The iron left his voice for a moment. “Sit,” he said softly, moving toward her and helping her down to a chair. “Let me see you.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone before he turned to face the wreckage again.

Phoebe hovered, white-knuckled around a cup. “It came up from the stillroom,” she managed. “Footman Evan carried it. He said Mr. Hawkins gave it to him from the pantry clerk’s hand.”

“Hawkins first,” Harry said, already moving. “Niall, keep that piece covered and no one touches anything else. Open the window two fingers. Phoebe, you stay with the Queen. Door barred from within. No one enters without my word. Who let the footman in?”

Phoebe blinked and looked at Y/n, opening her mouth to respond but Y/n quickly answered. "I told Phoebe to let him in. I didn't think there was harm in it. It was me who allowed it."

Harry nodded quietly as Niall rose, crossing to the casement and drawing it a careful inch. Cold air slid in, lifting the dying ash in the grate. He set the wrapped shard on the mantel out of reach.

Boots hammered in the hall with a ripple of orders, and the slap of pikes grounded. The physician shouldered in with his bag and a bow; the apothecary behind him with stoppered glass. Harry pointed toward the alleged poisoned sweets. "It smells of bitter almond, laurel-water perhaps."

"We'll confirm," the apothecary responded. The men immediately got to work.

The Master of Household arrived next, face leached of color, bowing too low. Harry didn’t look at him. “To the small council chamber,” he said, eyes on the floor. “Wait there. If you attempt to leave, the guard will clap you in irons.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“And send Hawkins. Now.”

When the door shut again, Harry glanced to Y/n; the set of his mouth eased a fraction at the sight of her sitting quietly, Phoebe’s palm firm at her shoulder.

It took a moment to sink in, that someone had attempted to poison her. To kill her. She felt a sharp rise of panic at the realization. She knew her post was ill-favored among many in the kingdom and even within the castle walls but she hadn't expected that someone would want her dead. Carted off in cattle cages, maybe, but death from poisoning? Who would dare do such a thing?

Harry turned, voice carrying clean through oak and stone loudly. “Captain! Double guard on the lower passage. Search every apron, every pocket, every basket. Every vial in the stillroom is to be accounted for and sealed.”

“Aye, Your Majesty.”

Harry’s hand closed once on the back of a chair. His knuckles whitening were the only sign of the temper he’d leashed. Then he released it and lifted his chin. “We are done being toyed with.”

He looked to Niall. “Bring the wrapped piece and attend me.”

He looked to Y/n last. For her alone, his tone gentled. “Lock the door behind me. I will not be far. And this time, my queen, I urge you: do not allow anyone to enter.”

He stepped into the corridor. “Bring me Hawkins, the confectioner, and the footman,” he said, the words ringing off stone. “We begin at once.”

. .

Feedback/Thoughts | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

. .

Tags: @matildasatellite @hinnyrx @eversincehs1 @sunshinemoonsposts @archerxnn

@spinninc @haliastyless @multiplefandomstan @bruhk @sassamanda77

@cherryshouse @montgomery-929496 @cherriesncupcakes @practistyles @matildalittlefreak

@imaginexxharry @oifukinloser @jaebeomsblackgf @wildcstdrexms @gilwm

@rimaruu @harrysbigspoon @sittinginthegardern @ariieeesworld @esposadomd

@theressaicon @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @tiaamberxx

@closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @malwtilda @itjustkindahappenedreally @onlyangellucifer

@harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lc-fics @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads

@harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo @brittanyzelazno

@caynonmoondreams @mellamolayla @ladscarlett @heartateasee @littlenatilda

@michellekstyles @harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994 @bananabk9756

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb @fruity-harry @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @mema10

@gmikaelson @vanteguccir @fangirl509east @virgopr1ncess @hoolabalooba

@readingrockstar23 @jam1esl0v4 @daphnesutton @stylesftcher @jerseygirlinca

@dontforgtme @aileen1237

[daylightmidnights]

hi lovely i’m so obsessed with your blog and how organized you have it, it’s so helpful for everyone so thank you for all that you do with this blog!! now for the real question by any chance do you have a sub harry masterlist and if not could you make one 🤭🤭

Oh my god thank you for saying that. I was trying to make it easier for myself at first but then I thought I'll just post it so others can look through it if they need. I'm glad that some people find it useful!!!

Now to answer your question, I don't currently have a sub harry list. Honestly I haven't read many sub harry fics. Can't find much really. The only one that I can think of is A Good Boy, but he's more switch than sub here. I'd really like to read more subrry, I just have to find them. I was also thinking about making a dom harry list, so better make a sub/switch list too.

Thanks for checking out my blog 🫶

[daylightmidnights]

First of all 10/10 on the name 👀 very creative and accurate 🤭

Oh my god I cant get over this one. It was so fun. I need more of them. The beginning of them, how they met and how their first time fuck, was it just one time, what conversation did they have that night at the bonfire, was it the same night they met and fucked??? I have so many questions that I need answered. Also what was SHE doing these two months while he was on fuck marathon? I hope she wasn't sitting holed up in her room. Istg if she was not hooking up with random guys at least once a week or two, I'd be so mad at you Sarah. She better be fucking around having fun too. Oh that reminds me, why did she take so long to confront him if she knew what he was trying to do??? Aaaaahhjjjjhvjaksjh I have so many questions. I need MOREEEEE

10/10 Would Come Again: Frat!Harry Styles Blurb

Based (loosely) on this post right here

CW: Frat Harry, language, mentions of drinking (everyone is over 21 don’t worry) and some lowkey smut.

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy the little twist to this concept, it was written in one sitting and figured it would be a fun quick little blurb✨

Tag List: @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @blckburd @triski73 @mema10 @angeldavis777 @maudie-duan @mads3502

Summary: Harry has something to prove after getting a bad review✨

Harry Styles fucks like he has something to prove, and in a way he does but not to himself or even the girl that’s currently moaning his name loud enough for the whole fraternity to hear. No, he has something to prove to the voice that he hears in the back of his head every time he has someone bent over with their face pressed into his mattress, the voice that says the same thing over and over every single time he gets someone up to his room.

“You Harry Styles are a lousy lover”

The voice that annoyingly enough belongs to you, the girl that he somehow managed to snatch up before any of his gross fraternity brothers got the chance and also the girl that he somehow managed to lose nearly just as fast almost two months ago. In Harry’s mind every harsh thrust of his hips, every hickey he leaves on someone’s neck and every girl that walks out of his room with a blissed out grin on their face is just another way of proving you wrong. But there’s only one small issue that he can’t seem to get over, you don’t care.

He’s even gone as far as walking a very wobbly legged sorority sister of yours home and made sure you saw the kiss he pressed to her flushed cheek and all you did was wave and tell him to ask Niall about the party the following night. It’s almost as if you have no clue the lengths Harry has been going through to try to show you how wrong you are about his capabilities as a lover. And maybe that’s because you don’t ask the girls he’s seen with about how their evening went or maybe because you haven’t been to his frat house recently to hear just how satisfied he makes his one night lovers.

So that’s exactly how he finds himself here, in his room during a house party he knows you’re at with a girl who’s name he only vaguely remembers starting with the letter N underneath him. Her legs are pressed to her chest and his name is falling from her parted lips like she’s reciting a prayer. Beads of sweat are starting to form on his forehead as he continues to pound his thick cock into her at a relentless pace.

“Oh yes Harry right there.” Her voice is strained as he feels her walls start to squeeze around him, a smirk works its way onto his face as she claws at his back. As he closes his eyes and slides out to the tip just to slide back in with a harsh thrust of his hips all he can hear and see is you and it turns his thrusts more determined as a groan from deep in his chest tumbles out of his mouth.

“Oh fuck.” Is all he says when he opens his eyes at the feeling of the girl beneath him coming undone, her eyes are rolling into the back of her head, her body is arched and her warm wet walls are clenching and pulsing around him.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to find his own release, but unlike his current visitor who is very vocal about how good it feels to come all over his cock he just grits his teeth and stills his hips as he finishes into the condom that’s securely wrapped around his shaft. When he rolls over onto his back the girl lets out a deep satisfied sigh making a lazy smile appear on Harry’s face.

“That was incredible.” The girl pants as she places a hand on her bare chest trying to catch her breath. Harry lets out a chuckle as he gets off the bed and disposes of his used latex before grabbing his boxers off the floor.

“Yeah? Well feel free to share that with the people downstairs.” He says it like he’s joking but in reality he wants the brunette girl who is feeling around the bed for her panties to do just that, go tell everyone at the party how good he fucked her so it’ll get back to you.

“Why would I do that? Then they’d want a piece of you and I’m not good with sharing.” Harry has to hold back rolling his eyes at her very poor attempt at trying to subtly tell him she wants more.

“Well love it’s not technically sharing if it’s not yours to begin with.” He explains as he slips his black t shirt over his head, running a hand through his messy curls before looking over at her. She has a slight pout to her face and is only half dressed with her hair now pulled back into a messy ponytail. “Don’t give me that look you knew exactly what you were getting into.” His voice is stern but not enough to be considered mean, he just needs her to understand what happened tonight won’t happen again, he doesn’t do repeat visitors.

“I mean yeah…but I had no idea it was going to be like that though…can’t blame me for wanting more.”

“Don’t blame you at all babe.” The wink he shoots her has her letting out a laugh as she finishes getting dressed while he slips back into his black skinny jeans with the holes in the knees. “But the answer is still no.”

“Fine.” She says with a huff as she walks over to his bedroom door. “See you down there?” Harry just gives her a nod and a small kiss to her pink cheek before she opens the door and makes her way down the hall to the stairs.

Harry stands there for a moment, trying to gather the strength he knows he’s going to need in order to walk down those stairs and into the sea of people that are more than likely trashing his already trashed frat house. More importantly he needs to ready himself for the off chance he runs into you, the person that as disgusting as it is he hopes heard first hand everything that happened in his room just a few minutes ago or has heard about it from someone else. With one last run through of his hair and a small spray of cologne he walks out of his room and down the stairs.

“That has to be a new record.” Harry feels his heart begin to race as your sweet yet playful voice hits his ears the moment he enters the kitchen.

“Are you talking to me?” You roll your eyes as he turns around, his bright green eyes locking with yours and a finger pointing towards his chest. “Sorry I didn’t think we were on speaking terms?” He asks with a quirked brow but you see it, you see the way the corners of his mouth twitch like he wants to smile but isn’t allowing himself to.

“So that whole performance up there wasn’t your weird way of trying to tell me something?” You argue as you turn your attention to the over crowded counter so you can make yourself another drink. “Because that’s a form of speaking you know that right? It’s just not as direct as what we’re doing now.”

“God you really are a communications major aren’t you?” This has you letting out a laugh as you finally spot the bottle of vodka you were looking for. “But if you want the truth then-”

“The truth? From you? Hold on let me finish making my drink so I can find a place to sit because I just know this is going to knock me off my feet.” Harry glares at the side of your face as a teasing grin spreads across it while you pour some juice into your cup to go with your vodka.

“Are you insinuating that I don’t tell the truth?”

“Oh insinuating- that’s a big word for you.”

“Why are you always so annoying?” His tone is harsh but his words are tame compared to what he’s said to you before.

“You love it when I’m annoying.” You state casually as you turn your attention back to him, he lets out a scoff as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Makes you want to put me in my place.” Harry hates how your silly little smirk has his cock twitching in his jeans.

“Why would I bother trying to put you in your place?” You watch him take a small step towards you making you have to tilt your head up just a bit so you can keep your eyes locked with his. “You wouldn’t enjoy it and well-where’s the fun in that?” His voice is deep and teasing as he steps closer to you, letting you get a whiff of his cologne that’s covering up the light smell of sweat and sex.

“I wouldn’t enjoy it?” You furrow your brows as you look up at him with confusion written all over your face but Harry isn’t falling for it, because surely you remember telling him how bad he was in bed.

“Yeah since I’m such a lousy lover and all.” The loud laugh you let out has Harry’s eyes narrowing and a scowl taking over his face as he drops his arms down to his sides. “What’s so fun-”

“Harry you can’t be serious right now?”

“I am-that’s what you said right before you stormed off in the middle of that bonfire two months ago.”

“Yeah I said that because you had just told me you wanted to keep your options open-not get too serious so soon so I shouted the first thing that popped into my head.” Harry’s mouth drops open as you tell him the reason why you said what you did and how it essentially meant nothing to you while it changed everything for him.

“You-you didn’t mean it?” The words come out slowly making you let out a sigh and place your cup down on the counter next to you. “You don’t think-”

“No I didn’t mean it…I was hurt so I said something I thought would hurt you but I mean obviously you know you’re not a bad lover look at how happy Natalie looks over there.” Harry looks over his shoulder as you motion to the girl he was just in his room with who is walking around with a grin on her face.

“I was scared.” He admits softly once he turns back to you, the look on your face as his heart pounding in his chest. “I hadn’t ever felt the way I felt about you so I just…stopped it before it became too much and now…now I can’t even fuck someone else without your stupid voice in my head and when I close my eyes all I see is you and-” your lips crashing into his have the rest of his words long forgotten, his hands reach out to hold the sides of your face while yours grip onto his shirt as if you’re worried he’s going to walk away if you let go.

“We both know you love my voice.” You tease as you pull away, Harry’s thumbs gently brush over your cheekbones as he lets out a small chuckle.

“I do yeah.” You smile as he gives your lips a few little pecks before resting his forehead against yours. “Will you forgive me? For being so stupid and…everything else?”

“Yes Harry I’ll forgive you.” He feels a wave of relief wash over him as you bump the tip of your nose against his. “But I’m not stepping foot in your room until you’ve bleached every surface because I know you’ve been trying to prove yourself to me a little too much.”

“I mean I wouldn’t say that I’ve just been-”

“Plowing through my sorority sisters like it’s your last few weeks on earth?” He can’t help but laugh as you pull away from him, his hands resting on your hips while you run a hand through his messy curls.

“Okay…yeah I’ll disinfect my room don’t worry.”

“Good because rumor has it you’re a solid ten.” You tell him with a wink. “And I’d very much like to see if that’s true or not.”

[daylightmidnights]

do you have an angsty masterlist? idk if I just missed it or if it doesn’t exist but I love your page especially for finding new pieces to read :))

Hey, hi! So I'm not a big angst girlie. I do enjoy a bit of it if it ends happily. But I usually avoid angsty stuff. Although I think most of the things I've read so far has a bit of angst mixed with everything else. I haven't categorised my list based on smut, fluff and angst you know what I mean? I think my main fic rec list is mostly trope-based? I would consider making an angsty list someday when I have read enough angst even though I'm too weak to read heavy angst lmao. I'll try!!!

[daylightmidnights]

Fics I Read This Month | July

July 2nd - I ❤️ my hot girlfriend @jarofstyles (little blurbie)

3rd - Ovulating by @uhuhmaries (pure filth)

4th - A Night To Forget by @uhuhmaries || This and This blurbs by @jarofstyles

5th - When Y/N dates someone, they find their soulmate. . .it's never her by @jawllines ( part 1 of miss jaws' soulmate au 2.0, this one is really really sweet but also kinda sad, harry is super cute and adorable here)

6th - Y/N feels bad it's taking so long but Harry doesn't mind @jawllines (part 2 of soulmaterry, angsty at the end)

7th - Y/N overthinks and yearns, but Harry just knows they're soulmates (last part of soulmaterry, angst + smut + harry being the sweetest human, the gentlest soul who deserves everything he wants)

12th - Casa Amor and Crash Out by @sushirrrry (Love Island themed, all angst, Harry is kinda asshole here)

13th - this boss x assistant blurb by @jarofstyles || Fucked My Way Up To The Top, Part 2 by @strawberriesncigars (ceorry, marriage of convenience, secret relationship, emotional, kinda sad at times but fun to read and I think there's good balance of smut and plot) || Still Into You, Chapter 2 by @uhuhmaries (fratboyrry cockiness and a little bit of smut, high school senior reader x uni student harry)

14th - Road Trip by @musicforastylesrestaurant (some cute family moments on a road trip)

15th - Truth Or Dare by @sushirrrry (love islandrry part 3, he's still kinda asshole)

16th - Sex Toys by @cheap-pack-of-cigarettes (this is from 2015 y'all, it's oldddd but such a hot piece, found it thanks to @swiftmendeshoran reblogging it) || Y/N wants a baby, but she didn’t know that harry felt the same way.. by @fratboyrrrry (smut and some emotional moments)

18th - DILF Part 3 by @gurugirl (little bit of angst, little bit of smut and a whole lot of feels, i love them soooooo much)

21st - Mean King!Harry Part 6 by @gurugirl (this was.... EVERYTHING. I can't even describe everything I felt reading this, just that it was so beautifully written, I mean no doubt there bc it's Guru, but my god it was something else. I just wish more people could see the beauty of this series. It's so well written, well thought out. This is art. Pure art)

24th - Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh Mysterious Girl, Wimbledon, The Daydreamers Tour these were so fun to read, cute little instagram concepts by @musicforastylesrestaurant

26th - One More (Delicate extra, with a little daddy mention) || A grumpy husbandrry blurb kinda both by @harrywavycurly

27th - Wrong Stoop (drunk, dramatic and adorable neighbour harry) || Soulmate Smells (soulmate au, this is a little unhinged in the best way, i swear Sarah comes up with the most unique twists for common fic tropes) This was clearly a @harrywavycurly weekend for me as you can see. Worth it!! Love you Sarah!

[daylightmidnights]

I’m begging for some stupidly in love Harry fluff pleas Sarah it’s been a day☹️

Hiii lovey!! I hope this helps I’m sorry it’s short but it’s just some fluffy goodness!! 💖

Tag list: @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @blckburd @triski73 @mema10 @angeldavis777 @maudie-duan

CW: slightly grumpy Harry but tons of fluff

Summary: Everyone in the neighborhood is shocked to learn you’re married to the grumpy man that almost never smiles✨

“Okay I’ll do ten minutes.” Harry says in a final attempt to bargain with you as the two of you walk towards the back gate of one of your neighbors who are hosting an end of the summer party. You let out a laugh that has Harry’s hand gripping yours a little tighter as a silly grin takes over his face, the sound almost making him forget all about the stupid party he’s walking into.

“We agreed on an hour.” You remind him making a small sigh escape him as he reaches forward to open the gate for you with his free hand. “Just go stand off to the side so no one will bother you.” Harry wants to laugh at how well you know him and his need to not want to be bothered with the annoying pointless small talk that seems to come with social events such as this.

“I’m coming to find you in exactly an hour.” You just smile and nod as you turn so you can face him, placing your hand on his chest as he looks down at you. “I love you.” You smile and reach up on your tip toes to place a kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.” He smiles as you pull away, he gives your hand a little squeeze before letting it go so you can walk off towards the small group of wives you’ve become sort of friends with since moving into the neighborhood almost a year ago.

“So when are we going to finally meet this husband of yours?” Tiffany one of your neighbors asks a few minutes into the party, a wiggle of her eyebrows adding a playfulness to her question, you let out a laugh as you bring your plastic cup filled with something way too sweet up to your lips for a quick sip.

“Yes we’re dying to meet him.” Megan chimes in with a smile as you reach down and place your cup on the table in front of where the three of you are standing in the middle of Tiffany’s backyard.

“Oh he’s actually here tonight.” Your words have their eyes going a little wide, you rub your lips together as you turn and look around the small yard until you find a pair of green eyes already staring right at you from across the party. “He’s right over there.” You give him a small little wave that he instantly returns along with a kiss that he shamelessly blows in your direction that has your cheeks going pink at how adorable he can be even while tucked away all alone in the corner of someone’s backyard.

“Him?” Megan asks, her voice laced with pure shock at discovering your husband is none other than the man her own husband has said isn’t very nice.

“Yeah that’s Harry he’s my husband.” You tell them as Harry just continues to stare at you from across the party, the hand that’s not wrapped around a bottle of water running through his hair before he glances down at the watch on his wrist, the only time he takes his eyes off of you.

“He-he’s uhm well he sure is a handsome one.” Tiffany says with an awkward laugh that has you raising a brow as you turn your attention off of Harry who doesn’t miss the sudden shift in your demeanor.

“Have you two met him before?” You question feeling the sense that the two woman standing in front of you already know your husband somehow.

“Oh no not me uh John has.” Tiffany answers while looking over at Megan.

“So has Rick and he just said Harry was kinda,” Megan lets out a small sigh as she contemplates telling you the next thing. “Well he’s kinda mean? Or just kinda-grumpy.” You have to bring a hand up to cover your laugh as Megan and Tiffany look at you with concern etched on their faces.

Harry having a reputation as being the neighborhood grouch isn’t news to you, he’s not a very personable man but that’s because he despises small talk. He can’t be bothered to engage in fake and meaningless conversations with people he has no real interest in getting to know so he just doesn’t, he nods and walks away when they shoot him a smile and a greeting from across the street. The only thing that’s sort of shocking to you is that neither of them seemed to notice that the house you’ve had the wives over for lunch at a few times since moving in is the same one their husband’s all have seen Harry in front of, either mowing and tending to the lawn or washing your car. You just brush it off and stand up a little taller, letting out a small little sigh as you tuck some hair behind your ear.

“He doesn’t do well with meeting new people that’s all.” You say in his defense but before either of them can say anything else you feel a pair of hands on your hips pulling you backwards until you’re flush against Harry’s strong hard chest.

“Hello ladies.” Harry kindly greets with a small smile as you melt into his hold with a grin on your face. “Mind if I steal my wife for a bit? Been ten minutes too long without her.” Tiffany and Megan can only shake their head slowly as they watch Harry walk the two of you away from them.

“They think you’re grumpy.” You tell him as you turn around in his hold, your arms finding their way around his neck. “Or at least that’s what their husband’s think so of course they also think you’re a bit grumpy and mean.”

“That’s because their husbands all met me when I wasn’t around you.” He explains with a shrug as if what he just said is common sense. “Didn’t you know? I’m a proper miserable grumpy grouchy twat when I’m away from you.” You roll your eyes as his thumbs rub at the top of your hips.

“Harry I’m being serous.”

“So am I.” He states as he leans down so his forehead is resting on yours as you let out a huff. “You’re my main source of happiness baby so when I’m away from you-well I just can’t be bothered to be polite especially to nosey little neighbors like John and Rick.”

“I keep you nice then? Is that what you’re saying?” You ask with a smile as Harry teasingly bumps the tip of his nose into yours.

“Exactly.” Is all he says before he places his lips against yours in a sweet kiss that has you pulling him down towards you to keep it going for a few seconds longer when you feel him try to pull away.

Harry has a grin on his face as you finally let him pull away from you, he knows people are looking and he knows they’re all going to be whispering about how the hell you ended up marrying a man like him. But what they don’t know is the man they think is grumpy because he doesn’t return small talk or the polite smiles he gets from his neighbors is the same man that wakes up ten minutes before you just to turn the coffee pot on and is the same man who doesn’t let you go a single day without telling you how much he adores you. So as the two of you stand there lost in your own little bubble you don’t mind the stares and the whispers, because you know they’ll never really know Harry the way you do and that’s fine because he’s your husband and he loves you enough to blow kisses to you from across a party he didn’t even want to go to all because you caught him staring at you.

[daylightmidnights]

This is so beautiful. I can't explain what I am feeling. This chapter has a certain fairytale, calm and peaceful vibe to it. I have never read a more beautiful fic that's basically all about first time sex and losing virginity. It was written so beautifully and thoughtfully. Every paragraph made me feel things. To be honest, I was feeling really emotional with how beautiful it is the whole time. Even the hot and sexy parts of it were absolutely enchanting. It was everything I hoped it would be and more.

I can't get over how different Harry is here. Can't believe this is the same Harry we saw in the first few chapters. He's a changed man. Only for her. He was so sweet and gentle and romantic and caring. I love him. I love them. And he's definitely in love. The way his priority was her joy and pleasure, how patient he was, how they talked about his behaviour in the early days, how open and honest he was with her, how she was shy but also confident, how he encouraged her in every way and so many more things that I loved in this. Aahhh I need to read it again and again.

You're so talented Guru. So so talented. Thank you for putting so much time and effort into it. I appreciate it so much. This is honestly the best work I have read in a long time. This is greatness....the subject matter and the way you write it. I'm not exaggerating, this should be published. I'll be looking forward to the next chapters impatiently. But you take your time. Because I know this is a lot of work and you have other things to work one. We'll be here when you're ready with the next one. Love you so much ❤️

[6] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST | It's Good to Be King Masterlist

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 6 Word Count: 11,631

Ch. 6 Warning: smut, y/n loses her virginity, brief uncertainty and hesitation

. .

The king’s chambers were safe and inviting, unlike the rest of the castle. Or maybe it was just the way he'd kissed her. Lips soft and tender against hers, like he knew she was nervous. He cradled the back of her head, then slowly drew away, his nose brushing the side of hers.

Gone was the cold austerity of stone corridors and hateful gazes. In its place: warmth and hush. A low fire glowed in the hearth, casting flickering light across the dark wood walls and silk-draped furniture. The scent of rose oil and sweet wine hung faintly in the air, evidence of the staff’s discreet, meticulous preparation. A silver tray waited near the bed with fresh fruit, warm bread, and honey, with a decanter of brandy just beside it. Even the bed had been dressed more carefully than usual with new linens, a scattering of flower petals, and a thick velvet coverlet turned down in invitation.

Y/n stood clinging to the king, the heat of the chamber finally thawing the cold that had settled in her bones. The silk bodice of her gown still pinched her ribs, every shallow breath reminding her this was real. Her veil was gone, entrusted to Pheobe, but the pins remained, biting at her scalp like tiny teeth. She tried to steady her hands against the dark fabric of Harry’s frock coat, but they wouldn’t stop shaking.

They stared at each other… long enough that the fire popped behind them, long enough that she felt her pulse hammer against her throat. He looked as dazed as she felt, lips parted, eyes searching hers.

“You look scared,” he said softly, his brows knitting as he studied her face.

Y/n swallowed. “I suppose I am.”

He placed a gentle hand on her cheek. His eyes were shadowed, impossible to read, but there was warmth there too.

“You don’t have to be.”

She couldn't put it into words the way she truly felt. Every emotion inside of her clashed, unwieldy. She didn't want to be scared but it wasn't a matter of choice. She'd been crowned queen consort over a kingdom of people who despised her. And tonight, she would become a wife in every sense, whether she felt ready or not.

He slid his thumb over her cheekbone, his gaze dropping to her mouth, then lower. “The doctor wanted to have you inspected.”

She tensed.

“I said no,” he added quickly. "They wanted to be certain that you are a virgin. But that never held any importance with me."

Her eyes darted up to his. It didn't?

“I won’t have you touched by anyone unless you want to be,” he said. “And no one will be checking the bedsheets. If anyone asks, I’ll say it was done and they missed it.”

A strange relief gripped her chest. He could've been ruthless, brutal even, she’d seen it in court, heard it in the rumors, but with her, he spoke gently. Protective. Possessive, too, but in a way that made her pulse stir, not cower.

He leaned closer. “You’re mine to protect,” he said, voice quiet but certain. “But I’ll never take what isn’t given. Not from you.”

"I am a virgin. I know there are some who don't believe it, but I swear I am."

He nodded. "I know you are. You told me you were, and I believe you. Even if you were not, it wouldn't have stopped me from taking you as my wife."

She blinked at him. "How can you say that? Don't men want their wives to be virgins on their wedding night?"

He smiled. "Most do. But I, myself, am not a virgin. Would you have expected it of me?"

She shook her head. "No."

“Because in the end, it’s nothing compared to trust. Compared to respect.”

Casting her gaze toward the fire, she bit her lip and began to walk to it, holding her fingers toward the warmth. "Do you have respect for me?"

She felt his hands on the tops of her shoulders, and she turned her head to look up at him, his eyes on the flames in the hearth. "Yes."

"But you did not on the first night we met. You were awful. You frightened me."

He looked down at her, his hard expression softening. "I know. I am deeply sorry for how I treated you that night and the days after that."

She turned to look up at him directly, feeling as if she could speak freely. "Why? Why were you so harsh with me?"

"It's because I had the wrong impression. I've been accustomed to the ways of the kingdom and its people. It wasn't fair of me to judge you in the way I did without making your acquaintance first. It was wrong of me."

"What was your impression of me?"

He stepped back, eyes flicking over her. "On first glance, you seemed hollow-hearted like the rest. And I thought it was possible you were one of the girls who worked at the trap house—"

"You thought I was a prostitute. Is that why Mrs. Mable accused me of being a flag-hopper? Is this what everyone thinks of me?"

He blinked and shook his head. "I don't know what the others think of you, but what they think doesn't matter anyway. What matters is that you are far more interesting and smarter than the whole lot of them. You're better."

"If you thought I was so dull and unchaste, why did you pick me out of everyone?"

“Because you were beautiful, and at the time, I thought unchaste was what I wanted. And I knew it would scandalize everyone when they learned I’d chosen you. It meant almost nothing then. But it means something now. I hope you can see that.”

She stepped away from the hearth, her gaze drifting over the room without really seeing it. Should she feel hurt? She didn’t know. “So that night, when you summoned me… you thought I’d come willing. You thought I'd engage in licentious acts with you as you imagined I was accustomed to."

"Yes. I'd hoped for that. But I was wrong."

She looked at him, her fingers trailing over the table near the tray of fruit. "You were wrong. You treated me as if I were worthless refuse. And maybe in a way I am… I'm from the slums. A beggar with a sharp, unquenchable hunger deep down. No matter how much I eat, it never seems to go away. I always will be that girl. It's where I came from."

He did not answer at once. He understood her anger. He deserved it. He had treated her cruelly, and though his feelings had shifted entirely, he knew she still thought herself only the poor girl from the rookery. He watched as she drifted across the chamber, her gown trailing behind her in soft ripples, until she reached the balcony doors and slipped outside.

He had dreaded this reckoning, though he knew it was inevitable. Soon, she would demand more answers, for her spirit grew bolder each day. What he had not wished to confess was that, at first, he had taken her for nothing more than a common harlot with a fair countenance, someone whose elevation would scandalise the realm. That was all he required then: a face to stir gossip and a womb to bear his heir.

But he had discovered soon enough that Y/n possessed a depth he had not conceived. He regretted every careless slight, every cruel word. All he could do now was show her, in deed and word, that she had altered him and that he would never again fail her trust.

From behind, he admired the shape of her gown, the soft layers shifting as the wind blew against the material. He slowly made his way to stand behind her, placing his hands lightly upon her upper arms. Together they stood, gazing across Thornekeep’s moonlit walls. Beyond the gates, a small crowd lingered, their figures black against the lantern glow.

"You will never demean me so again. I would sooner fling myself from this wall than endure such foul words. I have dignity, and I will not remain the wife of a man who holds me in contempt, be he a king or no.”

He dipped his face close to the back of her hair, his breath warm at the nape of her neck. “I swear to you, I shall never again mistreat you, my queen. I behaved most shamefully, and I shall regret it all my days.”

She savoured the weight of his hands, the low heat of his voice at her ear, the faint trace of sandalwood upon his skin. In that moment, she believed him. She had watched him change… so swiftly it seemed near impossible. Once a brute she had feared, he was now gentle, almost tender. Still a devil, perhaps—but one she could almost trust. And if his kindness endured, she might even learn to yield her heart to him.

The night air bit cold through her lace sleeves, but his nearness set a warmth stirring low in her belly. She drew breath with difficulty, each inhalation a slow, shuddering thing. He always affected her so. His presence like a weight upon her senses. And now that her questions had been laid bare, she was ready to fulfil what was expected of her.

Y/n turned to face him, her palms gliding up his shoulders, down the breadth of his arms. “I am ready. Shall I summon Phoebe to unlace my gown?”

He cocked his head studying her with a look that mingled concern and a faint amusement. “There is no cause to hurry, mouse. We have until tomorrow evening before either of us is expected to emerge. If you wish to shed some of these layers, I am more than capable of unfastening your stays.”

“Are you not eager to have me in your bed? I had not thought you capable of such restraint.”

“I am quite beside myself to have you, my dear. But I suspect you will find more comfort in my restraint than you will from my eager desires," he said, gently turning her to face the balustrade. "You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this night with you…" His fingers moved deftly along the ties of her bodice, slowly loosening each notch as he went up. "As anxious as I am to feel myself within your quim," his voice came warm over the back of her neck, making her close her eyes as he loosened her from her gown. “As much as I long to bury myself within you,” his voice drifted warm against her nape, making her breath catch, “I would rather you discover each sensation at your own pace.”

She looked upward to the starlit sky above. His words soothed the last of her dread. She had feared the pain of consummation must come at once, that she would have no moment to steel herself. But with each loosened loop and each quiet breath at her neck, her heart drew tight within her chest. Most bewildering of all was how the sliding fabric over her breasts and hips sent a shiver of pleasure low through her belly.

She reminded herself that such pleasure was no sin. That the carnal imaginings which visited her in the quiet hours were permitted now, even expected. She had tried, in small secret experiments, to prepare herself… slipping a hesitant finger within, but it had stirred little in her. No doubt the big nob that hung from him would prove far more demanding. The thought made her cheeks burn hot.

At last, her bodice slipped free, leaving only her chemise and skirts about her hips. His warm hands slid to her waist. He leaned closer, his breath ruffling her hair. “Shall we return indoors? I cannot trust that some watchful eye is not trained upon us this very instant.”

She folded her arms over her chest and nodded, turning toward him. "Yes."

It was far simpler to slip the heavy satin skirt from her hips than it had been to unfasten the bodice. Left in her chemise, while he wore only his linen shirt and breeches, they settled together upon the divan. A bowl of grapes rested on the carpet at their feet, and the fire glowed bright in the grate. She traced her fingertips across the velvet upholstery, striving to maintain her composure, though he sat perilously near, one arm stretched along the back of the seat as he watched the flames."How has your reading been going?"

Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She knew precisely what he meant, the scandalous tales. Only a handful of volumes dared offer the frank, wicked detail she secretly favoured, though she would never confess it aloud. The rest of the books danced around the truth of what was being written with flowery prose and reserved detail.

"Fine, I suppose."

“Merely fine? That does not strike me as a cause for much excitement. Be truthful with me, mouse. Have your readings not stirred a certain… awakening?” He traced a finger along the nape of her neck, gaze intent upon her profile.

An awakening… Well, yes, they had. She blinked her eyes slowly and gulped to wet her dry throat as she kept her gaze fixed on the flames. "A time or two."

His thumb drew gently up the side of her throat when she felt his plush lips graze her jaw. "Only a time or two? And how did it feel?"

She felt his words scatter across her skin and melt down to her neck as he kissed a slow path toward the underside of her chin. She tilted her head, granting him better access as a breathy gasp wobbled from her mouth. How was she to answer such a question when he was kissing her like that?

"It… It was… ahhh!"

He grinned at how swiftly she yielded to his touch. He had scarcely reached the place he knew would undo her entirely."Oh? Did it please you? Did you find your release?”

Her breathing faltered, chest rising as if the stays were still fastened to her ribs. She turned her face to look at him, lips parted, eyes heavy with confusion and longing.

“I… It…” she whispered, her voice soft. “It felt best when you did it.”

Harry's eyes softened, his hand settling over hers on her lap, thumb stroking the bones of her knuckles. “I see,” he said. He had not expected such candour. In fact, he could almost swear that was an invitation from her.

He leaned in again, that time placing a kiss just beside her mouth. A silent question to her subtle invitation.

She turned her body to face him fully, her hands rising to his chest, fingers brushing the edge of his collar as though daring herself to continue. She wanted more of that kiss. Wanted to feel the ache and the need kindling between them again.

He sat still as she shifted, her pretty eyes steady on his, palm sliding upward against the linen over his chest. Her lips were parted as she angled her face toward his, silently beseeching.

And then, to his quiet astonishment, she quickly moved into him, her lips brushing his with a tentative and curious peck. He hummed low in his throat as he responded, pressing more firmly into her mouth, drawing her deeper with every pass of his lips.

When she sighed into the kiss, he took it as permission, slipping a hand to the curve of her waist, guiding her closer. Her thigh brushed his, and he felt the hitch in her breath at the contact.

“You needn’t be afraid,” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers as he broke the kiss only long enough to see her eyes. “We shall take our time.”

“I do not fear the kiss,” she whispered. “Only what must follow after.”

He smiled. “We shall come to that only when you're ready. And when the moment arrives, I promise you shall find it as gentle and as sweet as you desire.”

He kissed her again, more deeply that time. His hand slipped behind her, tracing the gentle arch of her back, coaxing her to lean into him. And she did, cautiously at first, until her chest pressed to his, and her hands clutched his arms for balance.

She could feel the heat of him through her thin chemise, the strength of him, solid and broad, yet tempered by an unexpected tenderness. His touch remained patient, adoring, but each movement was deliberate, charting the shape of her, as though he meant to memorize every inch.

She startled a little when his palm swept over her hip and down to the back of her thigh. He paused, pulling back just enough to look her over. He needed to calm himself before he wound up devouring every inch of her like he wanted, the urge to overtake his reason.. Looking at her face, he saw only a beautiful woman, clinging to him, wanting… But he had to keep gentle with her. For now.

“Is this too much?”

She shook her head quickly. “No. I'm trying to settle myself.”

“Shall we stop?”

“No,” she whispered, her cheeks blooming with heat. “Please don’t stop.”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in again, placing a kiss beneath her ear. “As you wish.”

He had envisioned the most wanton imaginings of her earlier that day. Had taken himself in hand, stroking with slow, deliberate intent to the thought of her spread across his velvet coverlet, her hips arching in desperate supplication as he tormented her with his touch. He had spilled the moment he pictured himself buried within her. Even now, he could scarcely fathom how she might feel… soft and wet and impossibly tight around him.

With great care, he guided her onto her back along the divan, the velvet cushions yielding beneath her. He followed, half atop her, propped on one elbow so as not to press his full weight against her. His other hand drifted slowly along the line of her hip, then upward, tracing the side of her ribcage through the soft fabric of her shift.

She arched faintly beneath him, startled by her body’s yearning. It was automatic. His mouth never left her skin. He kissed the slope of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the edge of her collarbone as she moaned quietly.

Her fingers found their way into his curls, tugging gently as he grazed the peak of her breast with the back of his hand. Even that small contact had her gasping, her legs shifting restlessly beneath her.

“Already trembling,” he said, his breath jagged. “You are so sensitive, little mouse."

“I feel it,” she whispered. “It's...” she trailed off, unable to finish any thoughts she had conjured.

He chuckled low against her chest, his nose brushing the thin fabric stretched over her breast. “It is natural to feel it. You are so good… perfect," his words were mumbled against the material. "I, too, feel it. It's in my bones…" He dotted kisses softly over her chemise. "… it's in my chest. And we’ve scarcely begun.”

He brought his mouth upward to hers again, his tongue brushing her lips in a way that made her back arch and her thighs clench beneath her clothing. She slowly parted her lips, her tongue meeting his in a shy, searching stroke. A low moan trembled between them.

Between the steady flicker of firelight and the warmth of his hands, Y/n could no longer recall what fear had once lived in her. He made her forget everything but his breath, his touch, the way his voice dropped when he praised her.

She could feel the hard ridge of him against her hip, unmistakable even through layers of linen and cotton. The knowledge of it sent a hot dizziness through her.

“Allow me to unlace this,” he said, tugging gently at the top of her chemise. “You are far too beautiful to be hidden behind cloth.”

She nodded, raising her arms to aid him. He had sworn he would be patient, that he would not rush her, but she was so pliant already. The soft panting of her breaths, the little gasps, the way she threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed him with shy fervour…the way she lifted her hips to meet him. All invitations.

And when the garment came loose, baring her to the warm air and his hungry gaze, the king did not seize her as some men might have, greedy and rough. He merely looked. Admired. Swallowed hard as if astonished.

He longed to touch her. Wanted to grab her flesh and squeeze at every inch of her that was laid before him. Wanted to dig his fingers into her hips and breasts and spread her thighs open so he could look upon all of her.

“God help me,” he said softly, his voice nearly breaking. “You’re exquisite.”

He was not a man given to faith. But right then, he could kneel in surrender to any deity who had brought her to him. He wanted to nose at her opening, to pry her apart and watch her face as he plunged into her depths.

She reached for him then, bolder than she’d ever been before, and pulled him down into her embrace, and perhaps for a break in the way his eyes were wandering over her peaked breasts and the stretch of her body where his fingers had once touched. She'd never been gazed upon like that before.

His mouth met hers again, slow and indulgent. He kissed her not as a king, but as a starving man at last allowed to feast. Her arms wrapped round his neck, drawing him nearer as his hand roamed down the soft plane of her side, over the tender rise of her hip. His palm, wide and warm, settled low, gripping just above her bottom as he deepened their kiss. She whimpered into his mouth, fingers slipping into his curls again, pulling at them with a desperation she scarcely understood.

Harry shifted atop her, careful not to rest too heavily on her frame, but eager for more of her body pressed against his. Her bare breasts, rising and falling in uneven rhythm, brushed against the linen of his shirt. The sensation tore another moan from her throat.

“There now,” he said between kisses. “D’you feel it, little mouse? What you’ve done to me?”

He took her hand and guided it downward, resting her palm over the thick, straining shape beneath his breeches. She gasped softly, her eyes wide, her breath caught in her throat.

He closed his hand over hers, encouraging her to press gently.

“That is what your sighs have made of me,” he whispered. “A beast of a man, barely leashed.”

Her skin burned hot. Still, she did not pull her hand away as she looked into his eyes.

“It feels so…” she trailed off, lashes fluttering as she dared another tentative touch.

“So alive?” he offered, his voice dark with pleasure.

She nodded, lips parted. “Yes.”

He smiled, then kissed her again, hungrier, less restrained. His hands returned to her body, roaming more freely. He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over the pebbled peak, drawing a startled sound from her mouth. Her hips lifted slightly off the divan in response, instinctive and needy.

“May I touch you lower?” he asked against her neck, his breath scorching. “Properly?”

She hesitated, not out of fear, but from sheer wonder at the question. That he would ask at all. That he would wait. That a man known to be cruel in court would kiss her so sweetly and speak to her as though she were sacred.

“Yes,” she said, her voice small but clear. “Please.”

His fingers dipped downward, over the warm skin of her abdomen. She squirmed at the sensation, but he hushed her with a kiss to her cheek, trailing his mouth to her temple, her hairline, her ear.

When his hand finally slipped between her thighs, she gasped, her knees parting slightly of their own accord. He grazed her lightly at first with just a brush of knuckles over the soft curls between her legs.

“You’re already damp for me,” he whispered, sounding almost pained. “Oh, my love…”

Her heart was nearly bursting. She arched into him at the sound of that word.

Love.

Whether he meant it or not, it echoed through her like the strike of a bell.

He began to stroke her slowly with the flat of his fingers, spreading her slickness in languid circles without yet delving deeper. Her hips writhed beneath him, her hands twisting in his shirt as he coaxed her body into revelation.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing her chin as his fingers circled her pearl with careful attention. “Let yourself feel it, little mouse. There’s no shame in pleasure.”

The sounds she made startled even her… soft, broken cries she’d never known herself capable of. Her legs trembled, and he caught her with his free arm, holding her tightly as he continued to play her like a cherished instrument.

She felt how wet his fingers were as he slid them slowly, teasingly against her. She needed more, needed it desperately if she were to find any relief. But it seemed he had no intention of granting it. Not yet.

He smoothed his lips over hers, and the whole of the sensation was consuming every bit of her body and soul. She was brought to the brink, and then he moved his fingers down… over and over again as he kissed her until she could hear the wet, sinful sounds of her own arousal between them.

Even Harry felt himself nearing the edge, though she had scarcely touched him. Her fingers were still wrapped tightly over him, and the confining barrier of his breeches had begun to grate on his control. He pushed a heavy breath out through his nose when he felt her palm press firmly into him, tugging in a timid experiment.

And, at first, it had been an accident when he eased one thick finger into her. It was just barely, only to the first knuckle, causing her to gasp so sharply he kissed her again to steal the sound, stilling his digit inside of her. But then she shifted down against his fingers, pushing him deeper, to the second knuckle, until he was buried to the last joint and her ragged breaths dissolved into soft, helpless mewls.

Her walls fluttered around his finger, so tight and warm that it nearly undid him. But he held fast, working slowly, watching every flicker of her expression. He drew out and then in again, coaxing her body to relax.

“It feels—oh,” she cried softly, legs tightening around his hips.

“I know,” he breathed, as he watched her pretty face. “I know, darling. I can tell you like that.”

He found her pearl again with his thumb while his finger worked within her, and her whole body tensed, then softened around him. She did like that. He could see it in the way her hips began to roll into his palm, her breaths syncing to the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. Loosening his hold, he drew back just enough to look down and savour the sight of his new wife undone beneath him.

The room could have collapsed on him and he would not have stopped. Her hips were swaying in restless pleasure, her soft breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath, her mouth dropped open wide as her eyes glistened… and her cunt, sucking his finger in and in, making his hand gleam with her slippery, greedy need. He would stay like that with her for eternity if she wanted. Even if his cock was throbbing painfully.

"Mmm…" she whimpered, her eyes blinking up into his. "It's wet. Right here…" She slid her thumb along the head of his length, where he'd dampened the linen through his breeches.

"Yes. You've aroused me, little mouse. It means you're making me feel good. Your hand on me…"

She inhaled a harsh breath as he curled his fingers into her, dragging his pads into something that made her insides swell. "It's good?"

He smiled and pushed his nose into her cheek. "Very good."

The soaked sound of his finger pushing in and dragging out met with the crackle of the fire in the hearth, and their strained breaths and moans. His gaze drank in every detail of her, undone beneath him. She was more than ripe for him… but still… he wanted to see her writhing, begging for him to sink inside before he defiled her completely.

He closed his eyes, letting himself savor it: the feel of her, the scent of her skin, the soft, unguarded sounds she made. It was a dream, having her like this, and he felt certain that the moment he buried himself inside her, he might not survive it. For all his strength, his heart was sure to give out. But he would die happy.

Opening his eyes again, he slid his finger out, and she quickly grabbed onto his shoulder, her lips drawing downward into a sulk. "Harry…"

A low moan tore from him when she spoke his name. She so rarely said it that hearing it now was dizzying. "Oh, little mouse…" he cooed at her, changing the position of his hand, two fingertips circling at her little tight muscle as he looked down at her. "Do you need more?"

She nodded in haste. "More. Please."

"How about two fingers?"

She continued nodding as she glanced down at his hand, hovering just over her thighs in wait. "Yes."

Harry smiled and slowly eased two of his fingers into her. She gasped, her eyes widening with the new fullness. He began to thrust, unhurried, and she moaned, rolling her pelvis upward into his hand. Watching her face closely, ensuring her pleasure, he drew her hand from his shoulder and brought it downward to that tender place he had been stroking. She shivered as he guided her hand to where he had been touching her, where she was slick and tender and pulsing beneath her own hand.

“Feel that,” he said, his voice ragged. “How soft you are… how ready.”

He nudged his fingers inside of her gently as he steered her fingers. Her breath stuttered as she pressed down gently, her fingers slipping over the little pearl that throbbed with every heartbeat. Her thighs tried to close, but he nudged them apart again, kissing her shoulder.

“Take it easy,” he whispered. “Does it feel nice?”

She nodded, unable to find words, her mouth open in a soundless gasp as she watched his face intently. But “nice” was not the word for it. It was so much more. More than she had ever imagined. Better.

He watched her touch herself, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling, and he knew he would never recover from the sight. But he couldn’t resist adding his own touch, his hand sliding to cover hers, pressing just a little firmer, coaxing a broken cry from her throat as he continued working his other fingers as deeply as she could take.

He didn't rush her. Even as he looked upon her laid bare, perfect and lovely in the firelight, he held her gaze and waited. Anyone watching have thought him a man of infinite patience, given he'd restrained himself from taking her how he wanted over the last month, but truth was, it cost him nearly every ounce of strength not to lay her flat and take her wholly just then.

For the king, this was also a new experience. Her virginity would be his, and it would be the first time he'd ever taken such a thing, from anyone. It had never appealed to him to have to teach and guide a lover during such a delicate moment. To make sure she was happy and that her body was relaxed and receptive.

Yet he found himself rather enjoying this slow, tender exploration. His patience was tested to its limits, but there was no other way. Y/n needed time to open up properly, so, time he would give her, even though every aching inch of him rebelled against such restraint.

When at last she moved her hand from herself and pulled him down to kiss him, he made a soft sound of gratitude in the back of his throat. He let her lead for a time—her sweet, tentative mouth against his, her hands exploring the breadth of his back, the shape of his arms. He could feel the damp trace of her arousal upon her fingertips as they brushed his skin.

Cupping her breast again, he rasped his thumb gently over the sensitive peak, and she gasped, her hips shifting upward toward him, as if she needed more than just his two fingers dragging through her insides.

“You must tell me if anything displeases you,” he murmured against her cheek, voice husky. “I mean to learn every inch of you, but not at the cost of your peace.”

“It does not displease me,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice. “I can hardly find the words to tell you how I enjoy it.”

He smiled faintly. “That is no ill thing, little mouse. You're so good.”

Slowly, he pulled his fingers from her and trailed his hand down the length of her belly, smearing a glistening trace along the path. She bucked as his fingers grazed the softness between her thighs. He kissed her again to soothe her, then slipped lower, brushing her slit with two fingers. She was so soft and yielding. He nearly lost himself at the feel of it, at the sight.

“Shall I taste you?” he asked, voice scarcely more than a ragged breath.

Her lashes fluttered, her lips parting as she swallowed hard. “If…if you desire it…”

He laughed softly. “I do more than wish it.”

He slipped down to his knees beside the divan, urging her to shift her hips closer to the edge. She felt nearly too shy to look down at him, but when she dared, her heart tripped at the sight… her husband, the King of Thornekeep, bowing as though to worship.

He kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh, his hands firm on her hips to keep her from shying away. When he parted her folds with careful fingers and pressed his mouth to her, she cried out in shock, her hand flying to his hair.

“Oh—oh God—”

“Mmm,” he moaned against her.

His tongue traced her with slow, deliberate sweeps, tasting her as though he might starve without it. He relished every sound she made, every broken gasp, every elated cry.

When he closed his lips around her tender pearl and suckled, she jolted so violently he had to press a hand to her belly to steady her. Her thighs trembled as her spine arched off the divan. It was nothing like she'd felt before. Fingers rubbing her little nub were one thing but his lips and his tongue gliding softly, teasing at her and then sucking… For one bewildered instant, she wondered whether such bliss could be sanctioned by God, or was it a wicked, sinful act.

“Harry—oh—oh, I—” she pushed softly at his head, and he lifted upward to look at her, resting his chin on her thigh.

“What is it, mouse?” he asked softly.

"It feels too good. I'm not sure this is right—"

"It's meant to feel good."

"But is it… improper? We haven't consummated the marriage yet, and I'm worried we're in sin."

Harry tugged her fingers into his, squeezing around her knuckles as he climbed back up to the cushion with her. "You and I are husband and wife. We may enjoy one another in whatever way we like. There is no sin here, Y/n. Just me and you together."

She swallowed and nodded, though uncertainty lingered in her gaze. “It feels so…more exquisite than anything I have ever known. I cannot believe something so indulgent bears no consequence.”

"I'm sad that someone taught you that pleasure is akin to wickedness. We are meant to enjoy each other. It is our wedding night."

She moved her palm up to his shoulder. "You should have me then. So we can consummate the marriage first. Is that not what we're really meant to be doing?"

He spread his lips against her cheek tenderly. "Oh, Y/n. We will get to that when it's time. It is important we have patience, so that you find joy in it.”

He kissed her again, lingering near the corner of her mouth. “You are in no danger of judgment here. No priest, no scripture, no God who loves you would condemn the sweetness of a husband tending to his wife.”

Her eyes searched his face, uncertain. “But—”

“No.” He shook his head slowly. “Listen to me.” One of his hands came up to cradle her jaw. “You were made to be cherished. To be touched. To be pleasured. If you believe God made you, then you must believe he made all this softness, all this sweetness, too.”

Her chest rose and fell, breath catching. It felt too good to be innocent, and yet, the king's words calmed her racing thoughts.

“Let me show you,” he murmured, pressing a last kiss to her lips before sliding down again.

This time, she did not look away and she did not deny herself his gifts.

He settled between her thighs, hands gentle but insistent as he urged them further apart. She felt a shiver run the length of her spine when he kissed the delicate place above her mound, then lower, his mouth warm and wet.

He licked her slowly, unhurried, savoring her. His tongue pressed and circled and tasted her with aching devotion. A whimper rose in her throat, and she felt her hips tipping toward him, all her careful modesty dissolving.

“There,” he breathed between strokes, voice husky and warm. “That’s it… You see? No sin. Only your body caught in desire… perfect and good.”

Her fingers threaded into his hair again, but this time she did not push him away. She held him there, trembling as his mouth coaxed more of those helpless little sounds from her.

“Harry…oh…”

He hummed softly in answer, the vibration sparking heat that coiled deep inside her belly. He parted her gently with his tongue and closed his lips around that tender little bud again, suckling with steady, delicate pulls.

Her breath fractured. She clutched at his shoulders, eyes squeezing shut as she gasped. Her body gave way to him, and to herself.

He kept her pinned sweetly beneath his mouth, kept coaxing her higher, higher, until the last of her fear slipped away. Until the only thing she could feel was the pleasure cresting in a rising wave she could not have denied if she tried.

When she came apart, crying his name, he held her steady. Her breath came in ragged sobs. Her body clenched, and he nearly spilled himself just from the sounds she made.

When she sagged back at last, dazed and spent, he kissed her thigh one final time and drew himself up over her. She looked up at him, her eyes luminous and soft with wonder, her lips parted.

“I did not know…” She paused, struggling for air. “I did not know it could feel so…so…”

He kissed her softly. “It pleases me you enjoyed yourself.”

He shifted to sit beside her, his breeches tight to the point of agony. She reached out, hesitant, then laid her hand over the hard ridge straining against the laces.

“I would like…to do something for you,” she said, her voice wavering but earnest.

“Ah.” He swallowed hard. “You’ve no notion how dearly I desire that.”

She sat up on her knees, fingers trembling as she worked the fastenings. His cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the tip glistening. She drew in a startled breath as he drank in the sight of her naked and kneeling.

“It's quite large. I'd forgotten…” she said faintly. The memory of what she'd seen on the first night was distorted. She recalled only the tumult of feeling, but seeing him now, the sheer size of him was formidable.

He laughed then, a rough, quiet laugh. “Aye. But you shall have time to grow accustomed.”

He guided her hand to him, wrapping her fingers around the base. “Just here,” he said. “Slow strokes… That’s it.”

She moved carefully at first, watching his face. His eyes fell shut, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

“Spit on it,” he rasped, voice nearly gone. “Easier for you and better for me.”

Her face warmed, but she obeyed, her tongue peeking between her lips before she gathered her courage and let a small line of spit fall onto the crown. He shuddered, his hand covering hers again.

“That’s it, so sweet,” he breathed. “Ah—God, you are…you’ve no notion…”

When she grew bolder, sliding her palm up and down the rigid length, he dropped his head back against the cushion, breathing raggedly.

“You may lick it if you wish,” he managed, craning his neck to watch. He would ease her into learning how to suck on him, but for now, just to have her tongue against him would tide him over.

She leaned forward, her lips brushing just beneath the tip before she thought better of it, her courage failing. He looked down, his expression soft with amusement at the attempt. She was precious.

“No,” he said, lifting her chin. “You needn't do that tonight. Another time perhaps.”

She swallowed and gathered her courage again, her hand gliding up and down the thick length, the side of her fist grazing the hair at the root of him. Each stroke grew surer, slicker with her spit and the warmth seeping from him at the tip.

He closed his eyes, lashes shadowing his cheeks. “Yes…just like that,” he panted, voice hoarse. “Ah… You are…Christ, you are a marvel…”

She watched in fascination as his chest rose and fell, every muscle taut beneath the fine white shirt he had not bothered to remove. His hips shifted subtly, seeking more friction.

“Is it…very good?” she asked, breathless, astounded.

His eyes opened then, dark and heavy-lidded. “Very good, little mouse. You cannot fathom what it is to feel your hand on me.”

Her cheeks flamed at that, but she did not stop. She tried a firmer stroke, and he groaned deep in his throat, his abdomen tightening as though he fought to restrain himself.

“God above,” he rasped. “Sweet wife—if you keep on in such a fashion—”

He did not finish the warning. His breath turned ragged, one hand clutching her wrist as though to steady himself.

She looked down at her hand moving over him, at the flushed crown peeking from her curled fingers. A drop of pearly fluid welled there, smearing over her knuckles. Her heart thumped madly, part embarrassment, part something far stranger… an unnameable thrill that he trusted her with this, that she could undo him with only her touch.

“Do not stop,” he gasped, voice breaking. “Oh, God, do not—”

And she did not. She watched, transfixed, as his body shuddered beneath her hand. A low groan tore free of his chest, and his hips lifted once, twice… and then he spent himself, hot and thick over her fingers and the flat of his stomach.

She stilled, blinking down at the evidence of what she had done. Her palm felt slippery, and she could see the way he still pulsed softly against her grip as she slowed down the way her hand moved over him.

A curious wonder stole through her, mingled with a shy pride. She had never imagined such a sight, nor that she would be the cause of it. She'd never seen him like that before, but she quite liked it, she decided.

He reached to curl his hand around her wrist, gently drawing her away. His chest still heaved, a dazed smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“My love,” he managed at last, voice warm and ragged, “you have undone me entirely.”

She glanced down again, unable to help herself, her lips parting in astonishment. “I had not known…that it would look so…so much...”

He laughed then, soft and unguarded, even as he caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her damp fingers. “Forgive me. You might have found I am quite helpless where you are concerned.”

Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “I do not mind. I…rather like that you should be.”

They both stilled. The only sound was the fire snapping in the hearth.

“I shall see to this,” he said hoarsely, reaching for a kerchief to clean them both.

Once they were made tidy, he drew her into his lap, her bare thighs straddling his. He poured them each a small brandy and pressed the glass into her hand. She sipped, feeling the warmth spread down her throat to join the heat still coiled low in her belly. He watched her over the rim of his cup, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“You look thoughtful,” he said.

She lowered her gaze to the cup in her hands. “I was only considering how strange it is that one may feel so much and still be found well in the eyes of God.”

He chuckled, low and fond. “Aye, that is the wonder of it. Pleasure does not kill us, and neither will God.”

Her lips curved shyly. “You are very certain.”

“I am a man of some experience,” he admitted, one brow lifting in a silent dare for her to tease him. But she did not. She only traced the edge of her glass with a pensive fingertip.

“It did not hurt you?” she asked quietly, curiously.

He looked surprised, then softened, setting his cup aside so he could brush his knuckles down her cheek. “No, sweet. Far from it. You could do the same every night, and I would never grow weary of you.”

Her face warmed again, but she did not look away. “And now? Do you feel well enough to… to continue?”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Greedy little thing.”

She bit her lip, half-ashamed of the way her body still ached to be touched. The way she wanted more.

He tipped her chin up, meeting her gaze with a softness that made her chest flutter. “I am well enough. But let us take a moment to rest. There is no race to be run here.”

She nodded, exhaling softly. His hands drifted down to her hips, thumbs stroking the tender skin. “If you are patient, I promise I shall have you writhing again before the hour is out.”

Heat moved through her at the promise. She swallowed and lifted her glass for another small sip, grateful for the excuse to busy her hands. And though she was not entirely fond of the drink, the way it warmed her belly and made her limbs loosen was awfully nice.

For a time, they sat like that… her straddling his thighs, the brandy slowly emptying from their cups to the warmth of their bellies, the firelight gilding every slow blink and secret smile. She felt a peace she could not recall ever knowing, threaded through with the anticipation that soon, very soon, he would touch her again. She was entirely too impatient, but she would try not to push more.

Every little stroke of his fingers over her skin drew chill bumps in their path. She toyed with the hem of his linen shirt, pushing at the fabric so she could touch his skin the way he was touching hers. When she'd reached up above his naval, he pushed out an amused breath.

"What is it, little mouse?"

She swallowed, unable to stop herself from asking once more. “I was only… wondering whether it might feel so pleasant again.”

He chuckled, setting his glass aside. “Little glutton.”

She huffed, cheeks hot. “You are unkind.”

“Am I?” He took her face in his hands. “Or am I merely perceptive?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he kissed her, and her thoughts scattered. When he broke away, his hands drifted down to cup her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples until she arched. His mouth found her neck, sucking gently.

“You wish for more,” he murmured against her skin.

“I…” She swallowed. “Yes.”

He laid her back once more and began anew—fingers sliding between her thighs, stroking until she whimpered. Until he was fully recovered and his prick was thickened once again.

"Let us go to our bed." He helped her up, his fingers purposely grazing her hip as they both moved to the much more comfortable feather mattress. She climbed on first while Harry stripped his shirt away, his gaze drinking in the sight of her… her bare back, the soft curve of her hips, as she settled onto the coverlet and watched him with wide, wondering eyes.

He could have her any way he wished, and she would not deny him. He moved in next to her and pulled at her hips, settling her astride his hips, his length slipping between her slick folds as he lay down on his back.

“Stay just here,” he said, voice rough. “Let us find it together.”

He guided her hands to rest against his chest before taking hold of her hips. When she looked down, her breath caught at the sight of their bodies pressed together with her slickness glistening on the ruddy crown of him. She gasped as he began to guide her, their bare flesh sliding together, hot and unashamed.

“Oh…” she pushed out the exclamation in a breath. It was so much. So warm and strange and perfect, she could scarcely hold the sensation in her mind.

He watched her face, gaze dark and steady. “Does it please you?”

She nodded, unable to form a word. Her hands splayed over his chest, feeling the solid rise and fall of his breaths. He rocked his hips gently, the hard length of him gliding against the tender pearl of her desire.

The first time she shifted her hips on her own, she startled at the burst of pleasure that sparked through her belly. He groaned low, the sound curling around her spine.

“Again,” he coaxed. “Just like that.”

She swallowed and did as he asked, sliding forward and back with more intention. It was not the same as being filled with his fingers, but oh, it was nearly too sweet to bear. The ridge of his cock rubbed exactly where she needed, every stroke leaving her breathless.

“God…” she whispered, her eyes falling shut. “It's so warm...”

His hands flexed over her hips, guiding her when she faltered. “Yes. That’s it, little mouse… take what you need.”

The fire cracked beside them, casting golden light over their joined bodies. She could not look away from the sight, her slick folds gliding over the length of him, his skin shining with her wetness. His abdomen tightened with each motion, the muscles shifting beneath the fine hair on his belly.

A soft keening sound escaped her, and her cheeks flamed hot at the thought that it belonged to her. But he only groaned in answer, the roughness of it making her clench.

“Look at me,” he rasped.

She opened her eyes, and their gazes locked… hers wide and wondering, his dark with hunger and a tenderness she could not have imagined.

“It feels too good,” she confessed, voice breaking. “I shall die of it.”

He huffed a ragged laugh, his thumbs pressing sweet circles into her hips. “If you die, I shall perish with you.”

It was nearly too much, too raw, too intimate. She pressed her palms harder to his chest and moved faster in instinct, the slippery slide of him sending little shocks of pleasure all through her. He guided her at a slow pace, letting her grind herself over him until her thighs quivered.

“Harry…” she gasped. “I think—I think it’s coming again!”

“Let it,” he urged, his own voice unsteady. “Let it, sweet girl.”

She cried out, her head tipping back, the pleasure cresting all at once. Every muscle in her body tensed as she came, her slick pulsing hot over him.

The sight of her, glorious and undone, dragged him right to the edge. He cursed softly, his hips thrusting up once, twice before he spilled between them, hot and thick, their bellies streaked with the proof of it.

For a moment, neither of them moved. She stayed straddling him, breathing hard, her skin flushed. She could feel the throb of him still fading against her. Her mind was slow to return to itself, dazed and glowing with a satisfaction she had never dreamed of.

At last, he cupped her cheek, smiling up at her with eyes gone soft. “I think,” he murmured, “we have done very well indeed. You are far better than you know.”

Heat prickled along her throat at the praise. She looked down where their bodies were still joined by the evidence of all they’d shared, then quickly averted her gaze, shy all over again.

“Come,” he said. “Let me see you settled.”

He eased her carefully off his hips, rising to fetch a fresh cloth. She lay back against the pillows, limbs loose and boneless, watching as he cleaned them both with gentle hands. When he finished, he drew the coverlet up over her bare body before sliding in beside her.

His arm slipped beneath her neck, gathering her close. She turned to bury her face against his shoulder, breathing in the clean scent of linen and the warm salt of his skin.

“You are okay?” he asked quietly, lips near her temple.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I'm soaring.”

He exhaled a slow, relieved sigh and pressed a kiss to her brow. The fire burned low, throwing shadows across the chamber walls. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with the soft ache of satisfaction and the weight of her own contentment.

. .

Sunlight slipped past the drapes, warm on her bare shoulder. She stirred, stretching her limbs with tentative caution. Every part of her felt tender, softened by the night they’d shared. When she blinked her eyes open, she found him awake beside her, propped on an elbow.

“Good morning, little mouse.”

She smiled drowsily. “Good morning.”

He kissed her temple. “How do you fare?”

He smiled faintly and reached to stroke the skin of her cheek. “How fares your body?”

She hesitated, then let her hand shyly drift down to rest over his length, already stirring with interest against her thigh. Everything from the night before had been nothing but a delight. She couldn't understand the ache for more, but it was there.

“I would like to do it properly,” she whispered, her skin aflame. “I wish you to have me… wholly.”

His brows lifted, and he cupped her face in both hands. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she said, her heart thrumming. “I want to feel you. I want… to give it to you.”

He slipped his hand to her throat, thumb brushing the place her pulse beat so fast. “And what is it you desire to give me?”

He knew what she was seeking but before he took it from her, he wanted to hear her say the words. Her breath came unsteady. She felt reckless, near undone by the safety she had found in his arms.

“I want,” she began, and paused, gathering her courage. “I want to feel you inside me. Entirely. I want to give it to you.”

His eyes darkened, the mirth fading to something deeper. “Do you know what you ask?”

“I do.” She lifted her chin. “I know you said there was no need to rush. But I do not wish to wait. Not if you will have me.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed as he searched her face for any sign of fear. When he found none, only resolve bright as morning, he exhaled and pressed his forehead to her shoulder, his own body vibrating with need.

“Then I shall have you,” he whispered. “But we shall go slowly, and you will tell me of every discomfort. Swear it.”

“I swear.”

He kissed her mouth, unhurried, as though they had endless hours to lie abed. His hand trailed down her side, then further, coaxing her thighs apart. She felt her body already answering him, readying itself as his fingers slid between her folds.

“You see?” he murmured against her cheek. “Your body knows what is to come.”

He worked her gently, drawing small circles that made her hips shift and her lips part with a quiet gasp. She clung to his shoulder, unable to think, only to feel.

When she grew wet and pliant under his touch, he pressed a finger inside, then a second, coaxing her with slow strokes. The stretch made her whimper, but she did not shy away.

“Easy,” he breathed. “Easy now.”

Even as he said the word—easy—he himself was reeling. His heart pounded, his skin was burning, his hand was shaking. He'd never needed to display such restraint in his life and he was nearly at the edge of himself to lose control.

Her body clenched and softened, her breaths coming shallow as he prepared her. When she began to tremble again, he drew his fingers back, pressing a kiss to her temple.

He guided her onto her back and settled between her thighs, bracing himself on one elbow so he could look into her eyes. With his free hand, he took himself in hand, the tip gliding through her slick heat.

Her breath caught as she felt him there, so close she thought she might faint from the wanting. The warmth of him pressing and sliding against her was not unlike the night before, but this time it was different.

“Breathe,” he said softly. “You must breathe.”

She nodded, her chest rising as she tried to steady herself, waiting for him to get on with it. Waiting for the sting, the pain… the blood.

With a low groan, he pressed forward, the thick head of him pushing into her inch by inch. She gasped at the burn, her fingers clutching at his arms. It was much, much more than she thought.

He stilled at once, voice rough. “Is it too much?”

“N-no—only—”

“Only different.” He kissed her jaw, her throat, waiting. “You are doing beautifully.”

When she exhaled and her hips tipped up, he eased deeper, the slow stretch making her cry out, though not in pain alone. He was inside her, truly inside, filling her in a way she could never have imagined.

“God,” he rasped, his breath ragged against her skin. He couldn't help but to peer down at their bodies joined. His cock throbbed at the lewd sight. “You are… you are…”

Her body tightened around him, and he groaned, fighting for composure. His instinct told him to bury in and begin sliding into her at full intensity so he could finally indulge in the slick hug of her cunt around him.

Instead, he took her hand and pulled it down her body, guiding her fingers over her pearl. "Touch. The way you do when you are alone. Like this…"

He moved her fingers there, and she blinked up at him, wide-eyed. She understood his instructions and began to rub over herself, two fingers drifting in circles, pressing until she began to feel the delight all over. It was then that he began to move again.

The king kept slow and steady, pulling back and pushing deeper as she kept her fingers gliding. He could feel her knuckles bumping at his low tummy as she clenched delicately around him. And the deeper he nudged the more she stretched to take him, until at last he was seated fully within her. He stilled, pressing his brow to hers.

“Does it ache?”

“A little,” she whispered. “But—oh—”

He shifted, just enough to make her gasp. “But it is…so full.”

"Don't stop your fingers. Keep them moving, yes?"

She nodded as he moaned against her cheek. He could wreck her without consequence. He could find his own end as he so pleased. But she was too sweet for that. And he was finding that prolonging his own pleasure was quite divine. He'd never experienced it before, always having whatever he wanted when he wanted it.

He kissed her then, his hand gentle where it cupped her face. “We shall wait,” he whispered. “Until you tell me you are ready. Keep going like you are.”

She blinked, her eyes wet. And after a long moment when the ache began to ease and the strange fullness began to feel like something better, she tilted her hips and whispered, “Harry…”

He closed his eyes. "Tell me, mouse. What is it?"

"I think it's okay. Please…"

Her fingers were wet, his length was soaked in her, her body was buzzing with need just as intended. He moved in her slowly, each stroke drawing a breathless sound from her lips. Her hands slipped up his back, holding tight as her body began to learn the rhythm, the pleasure that built with each thrust.

Her hands clung to his shoulders, her breath breaking on every slow push and pull. It was almost too much, the stretch of him, the heat, the knowledge of what they were doing. And yet it was never quite enough to tip her into that blinding release she’d felt before.

He rocked into her in a steady rhythm, his jaw tight with restraint. Every time her body gripped him, he felt himself sliding closer to the brink.

“Ah—God,” he groaned, voice ragged. “You feel…you feel as though you were made to take me.”

Heat swept over her chest. She couldn’t look away from his face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his mouth fell open when he thrust a little deeper.

“Harry…” she gasped.

“Tell me,” he rasped. “Does it please you?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes—it’s…it’s so good.”

She meant it. Every slow glide was a kind of sweetness she had never known, an ache she did not wish to end. But it did not gather her up the way his mouth and his fingers had. It only made her feel stretched, possessed. Like she was coming apart without quite falling.

He felt it too, her trembling but never quite peaking. His hand slipped between them, thumb circling over the place she touched before, but still she only sighed, her hips tipping up for more without that final surrender. The angle wasn't quite right, but god did it feel good.

“It's enough,” she whispered, her voice soft and certain. “It is perfect like this.”

He made a strangled sound, the control finally slipping from him. “I cannot—”

She felt the change in him, the deeper push, the tension that turned his body hard beneath her hands. A helpless cry tore from his throat as he spilled inside her, his hips pressing flush as he shuddered against her.

She held him, her palms splayed over his back, her heart thundering. The heat of him filling her was a wonder in itself, even without the peak that eluded her.

When at last he stilled, he pressed his face to her throat, breath coming in ragged gasps. “Forgive me,” he mumbled, his lips moving against her skin. “I could not—”

She hushed him gently, sliding her hands to cradle his face. “It was beautiful.”

His eyes lifted, still dark with the last shreds of hunger. “You didn't finish…”

She shook her head, though she smiled. “Not this time.”

His gaze searched hers, then he withdrew slowly, carefully, drawing a soft gasp from her lips. Before she could shy away, he pressed a lingering kiss to her breast, her collarbone, her throat.

“Lie back,” he whispered, his voice gone low and rough again.

She blinked, uncertain. “Harry?”

“Lie back,” he repeated, easing her down into the pillows. “I would have you finish as you deserve.”

Heat rushed up her neck, but before she could protest, he kissed the inside of her knee, parting her thighs with sure hands. She felt his breath against her, the brush of his mouth.

“You are too good,” she whispered, her voice breaking, not even aware of what she was saying.

He only looked up at her, eyes fierce with devotion. “I shall never have enough of you.”

And then his mouth was on her, hot, slow, unhurried. He tasted her with the same reverence as the night before, his tongue coaxing her toward the pleasure she thought she’d lost.

He laved her tenderly, his spend mingling with her sweetness on his tongue. And he didn't know why but it only made him feel more ravenous. That she was filled up with him, and it was leaking like a posset filled with sweet cream.

This time, there was no strain or fear. Only the molten sweetness building with every stroke of him. And then his fingers met her tender opening, where he pushed them in and suckled her bud with his lips.

Her hand flew to his hair, her thighs trembling as she moaned aloud. “Oh—oh—”

He hummed low against her, fingers gently curling inside of her, and the vibration tipped her over the edge at last. Her body seized, all that wanting flooding out in a rush she could not stop.

She cried out, her voice echoing off the chamber walls. He did not stop until she went limp against the pillows, her breath coming in small, broken sobs of relief.

When he lifted his head, his mouth glistened with her. He kissed the inside of her thigh before gathering her into his arms, holding her close as her heart slowly quieted.

“I believe I adore everything about you,” he whispered into her hair.

She blinked up at him, dazed, her lips parting. “I think… I think I adore you as well.”

He smiled, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “Then you are mine,” he said softly.

She touched his cheek, her own face warm with wonder. “And you are mine.”

They lay in the hush, their breathing the only sound.

He stroked her arm, his hand lingering at her side. “You are so good,” he said, his voice hoarse. “My sweet one.”

She smiled at the name. “I thought it would hurt more,” she confessed, blinking up at him. “But it was… Heaven.”

He smiled faintly. “I meant to be careful so it would feel good. I should like you to recall this night with gladness, not dread.”

She let her palm drift over his chest, the steady thump of his heart beneath her fingers. “I think I shall remember it as the night you were…very gentle.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Oh, now, mouse… I am always gentle.”

She lifted a brow. “You are not.”

His mouth curved as he leaned down to kiss her, slow and unhurried. “No,” he admitted when he drew back. “But with you, I find I have a mind to be.”

She felt something unfurl low in her chest… something that had little to do with lust and everything to do with the peculiar tenderness he showed only to her.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For waiting. For…asking.”

He studied her face as his hand moved idly over her hip, not in invitation but in reassurance. She traced the shape of his collarbone, the line of his jaw.

At last, she sighed. “I think I'm hungry.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm. “So soon? Have I worn you out only to leave you famished?”

“A bit,” she said, smiling. “And I would like something warm.”

“Then you shall have it.”

Reluctantly, he shifted to sit up. He reached for the bell cord near the bed and gave it a firm tug. She watched him, her heart turning over in her chest. Even in the simplest movements, reaching for the cord, smoothing the coverlet around her… he carried himself with a kind of unthinking authority. But there was nothing cold in it now, nothing cruel. Only the easy gravity of a man content to care for her.

“Will they think it odd?” she asked softly. “To be summoned so early?”

He looked back at her, a glint of amusement in his gaze. “Let them think what they like. We have nothing to prove to any of them. My little mouse is hungry; that is my only concern.”

She sank back into the pillows, her body tender and satisfied, her mind hazy with the sweetness of it all.

“Shall we take our breakfast here?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, returning to the bed to gather her against his side. “I should like to keep you to myself a little longer.”

And when the knock came at the outer door, he kissed her hair and mumbled, “After this, we shall rest as long as we please. The kingdom can wait.”

She smiled and let herself believe him.

. .

Feedback/Thoughts | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

. .

Tags: @matildasatellite @stylesftcher @hinnyrx @eversincehs1 @sunshinemoonsposts

@archerxnn @daphnesutton @spinninc @haliastyless @multiplefandomstan

@bruhk @sassamanda77 @cherryshouse @montgomery-929496 @cherriesncupcakes

@practistyles @matildalittlefreak @imaginexxharry @oifukinloser @hoolabalooba

@jaebeomsblackgf @wildcstdrexms @gilwm @rimaruu @harrysbigspoon

@sittinginthegardern @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @tiaamberxx

@closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @malwtilda @itjustkindahappenedreally @onlyangellucifer

@harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lc-fics @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads

@harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo @brittanyzelazno

@caynonmoondreams @mellamolayla @ladscarlett @heartateasee @littlenatilda

@michellekstyles @harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994 @bananabk9756

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb @fruity-harry @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @mema10

@gmikaelson @vanteguccir @fangirl509east @virgopr1ncess @hoolabalooba

[daylightmidnights]

I need him actually. So hot but so soft. It's unfair that he only exists in fantasy. Loved it. Need more of them!

DILF [3] | older!harry

→ MAIN MASTERLIST ← -- | DILF [1] | DILF [2] |

Summary: Y/n's been dating Harry for a couple of months but a few interactions make her wonder where they really stand. Harry makes sure she knows just how much she means to him.

A/n: They're back! Here, we pick up with them a couple of months after part 2.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warning: age gap, smut, self-doubt, slight angst, a couple of awkward interactions with women in Harry's past

. .

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she said, feeling the clay slip between her fingers again as he guided her hands from behind.

Harry’s quiet laugh brushed warm against her neck. “Maybe. But watching you struggle is adorable.”

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. He was close enough that she could see the faint gray threading through his hair at the temples, close enough that she could feel his body against her back. God, he smelled good, he always did. The extra effort he consistently put in for her did not go unnoticed.

“You know, when you said you were taking me somewhere different, I had no idea it would be so…” she glanced down at the sloppy spinning mound between their palms, “…messy.”

He grinned, his big hands steadying hers. “Thought you’d appreciate something that wasn’t just dinner and drinks this time.”

“I do,” she admitted, voice a little softer. “It’s just… hard to look cute with mud under my nails.”

Harry turned his face, his mouth near her ear. “You always look cute. Even when you're messy.”

Heat shot straight up her neck. She tried to focus on the lump of clay, but his palm was spread over hers, warm and steady, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d touched her the last time they were together, the Thursday before (though that night was spent just in her apartment and mostly in her bed).

“Careful,” she said quietly. “You’re going to make me mess it up again.”

“It’s already ruined,” he teased, nodding at the uneven lip of the bowl. “But you’re trying. That’s what counts.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed put. She was having a lot of fun, even if she was awful at pottery work. He'd promised her that they'd actually go out and do something fun this time. She liked it. Liked that he’d planned this as an actual date, not just another excuse to get her into bed. Which part of her worried about, with any guy, not just him.

His hands left hers, and she turned, watching him move away to pick up a rag.

“Let’s call it a masterpiece,” he said, wiping his palms on a towel. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good.” He met her gaze, soft and lingering. “I want to feed you. Then I want to take you home.”

Her stomach flipped at his words. She wiped her hands clean and tried to pretend her cheeks weren’t burning. But when he took her coat off the back of the chair and held it out for her, she didn’t bother hiding her smile.

The sidewalk was slick from an earlier drizzle, the streetlights turning every puddle into a scattering of gold and red reflections. Y/n felt almost weightless when Harry laced his fingers through hers as they walked. She was still getting used to him.

It was stupid how much it meant, that simple gesture. That he’d hold her hand like that in public, like he wasn’t even thinking twice about it. It felt good, being with him. Easy. Like they’d done it a hundred times already.

Harry glanced down at her as they reached the corner. “You cold?”

“No.” She smiled, leaning closer just because she could. “I’m fine.”

He squeezed her hand lightly, and they turned the corner toward the little restaurant entrance, golden light spilling out onto the sidewalk. That was when the woman stepped into their path. Pretty. Sleek dark coat. High-heeled boots that clicked confidently against the pavement.

Harry slowed, his hand loosening from around Y/n’s.

“Harry?” the woman said, her eyebrows lifting in polite surprise.

Y/n blinked up at her, thrown by the way he'd let go of her hand and in the way she was looking at him.

“Sloane,” Harry said evenly.

Sloane’s gaze slid to Y/n, and for a split second, something sharp flickered behind her eyes before her expression smoothed over. “Crazy running into you here.”

Y/n felt the question rising in her throat—Who is this?—but before she could ask, Sloane smiled, all polite curiosity.

“And… you are?” she prompted, looking at Y/n directly.

“I'm Y/n,” she said, glancing from Sloane to Harry.

“Y/n.” Sloane nodded slowly, lips pressing together. "Let me guess… You're his niece? The one from out of town?"

Her brows pinched together as she glanced up at Harry. She didn't even realize he had a niece. That wasn't something they'd discussed yet.

Harry’s jaw ticked. “She’s not my niece.”

“Oh.” Sloane let out a small, surprised sound, her gaze swinging back to Y/n. “I see.” She paused, studying her for an extra beat, eyes scraping over her frame, before her lips curved again. “Sorry. Just… you look so young. It threw me off. Surely this isn't some kind of date…”

Y/n swallowed, trying to ignore the flush climbing her throat. “I’m not that young.”

"This is a date, actually," Harry said.

Sloane hummed, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well. That’s nice, Harry.” She flicked her eyes toward him, the corner of her mouth lifting. “I didn’t know you were into…”

Harry’s brows lifted. “Into?”

Sloane waved a hand, dismissive, a laugh trickling from her throat. “Oh, you know. Younger women. It’s sweet. Keeps you young, too, I suppose.”

Y/n opened her mouth, then shut it, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or annoyed. Her voice was calm when she finally spoke. “We’ve been seeing each other, a while.”

“Have you?” Sloane’s gaze sharpened, yet somehow her expression was still pleasant. “Aww, cute. How long?”

Y/n didn't appreciate the condescending tone.

Harry’s voice was even. “About two months now.”

Sloane blinked once, the only crack in her practiced composure. “Two months,” she repeated softly. “Well. That explains it, I guess.”

“Explains what?” Y/n asked, before she could think better of it.

Sloane’s smile thinned. “Nothing. Just… a bit of confusion about why our plans fell through about two months back.” She turned her eyes to Harry again. “I imagine this is why you cancelled on me?”

Harry’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”

For a moment, no one spoke. A car crawled past, headlights sweeping over the three of them in a long, uncomfortable arc.

Sloane’s polite tone returned like a switch had been flipped. “Anyway. I won’t keep you. Enjoy your evening.”

She gave Y/n a final, assessing look that somehow made her feel like she was standing there in a too-short skirt and borrowed shoes, even though she knew she looked fine.

Then Sloane turned and walked off, her heels tapping briskly down the sidewalk. Harry let out a quiet exhale. Y/n didn’t look at him. Her pulse was beating hot in her ears.

“Y/n,” he said gently.

She shook her head, voice tight, eyes focused on the restaurant. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I can tell you're upset.”

“I said it’s fine.”

When she finally forced herself to look at him, his expression was serious, eyes searching hers. His hand closed around hers again, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go inside.”

She let him guide her to the door, but the heat in her chest didn’t fade. And she couldn’t stop hearing Sloane’s voice in her head, all honeyed sweetness over something sharp.

You look so young. It’s sweet. How cute.

The hostess led them to a small table near the window, the soft glow of string lights overhead doing nothing to ease the tight knot in Y/n’s chest. She wasn't jealous… Not of Sloane. Though the fact that she knew something about a niece who lived out of town while Y/n didn't, felt strange. It was the first time she'd felt so out of place next to Harry since they'd started dating.

Harry pulled out her chair for her, but she sat without meeting his eyes. When he took the seat across from her, she could feel him watching, even as she pretended to study the menu.

A beat passed. Then another. “Y/n,” he said quietly.

She kept her eyes on the drink list. “Hmm?”

“You sure you're okay?”

“I am.” She flipped a page, ignoring how her voice trembled just annoyingly. “I'm fine.”

His brow creased. “Something's got to you.”

She forced a small smile as she finally looked back up at him, though it felt thin on her face. “Can we not do this here?”

He watched her for another long moment before nodding once, settling back in his chair. “All right.”

She hated how relieved she felt when he didn’t push. She needed to get her thoughts in order anyway before they talked it out. But the reprieve only lasted until the server came to take their order.

Harry asked for a steak and a glass of red. She ordered pasta she knew she wouldn’t eat much of, her stomach already in knots. She was being silly. Or… maybe she wasn't.

When the server left, Harry folded his arms on the table, studying her. “You know she doesn’t matter. Right?”

Y/n traced the rim of her water glass with her fingertip.“I’m aware.”

His voice softened. “Then why are you acting like something bad just happened between us?”

She huffed a quiet, humorless laugh, eyes still fixed on her glass. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I just…” She stopped, shaking her head. “It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

“It’s nothing, Harry. Can we please just not?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He shifted back when the food arrived, thanked the server, and set into his meal without comment. He was frustrated, made obvious by the tension pouring from the set of his shoulders.

She pushed pasta around her plate, appetite long gone. Her mind kept replaying Sloane’s voice, the way she’d looked at her like she was some novelty that Harry had picked up along the way. A temporary distraction.

You look so young. I didn't know you were into…

Why did Harry like her even? What did they really have in common? Was he one of those men who liked the younger ones? Easier to manipulate, someone with less experience who wouldn't give him too much lip? Y/n didn't feel like she was a pushover, but what if she'd gotten it wrong? Maybe he was just enjoying fucking a pretty young thing because he wasn't serious about their future.

When she finally glanced up, Harry was watching her steadily, his expression unreadable.

“You’re not eating,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, I am,” she said, stuffing a forkful into her mouth and chewing as she raised her brows.

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Y/n.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, softer this time, though she knew he didn’t believe it. She didn't believe it herself. But she didn't want to get into it at the restaurant in front of everyone. She'd come out looking like the dumb young girl who was overreacting.

They finished in tense silence, her fork barely touching the food again, other than a few mouthfuls to prove that she was eating something. The only sounds were the muted clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation from other tables.

When the check came, Y/n offered her card, but Harry waved her off and paid without comment. He stood and held her coat out for her, but she couldn’t quite meet his gaze as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

Outside, the night felt colder than before. She kept her hands stuffed in her pockets instead of reaching for him. Harry didn’t say a word as they walked the short block to where he’d parked. He unlocked the car, stepped around to open her door, and waited while she slid in.

The moment he closed his own door and settled behind the wheel, she felt the hush of the car wrap around them. No music, no chatter from nearby tables, no reason left to keep pretending.

He didn’t start the engine. He just sat there, hands resting on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

“Are you going to drive?” she asked, though her voice came out small.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said calmly, turning to look at her.

She shifted against the seat, pressing her palms over her thighs. “I told you. It’s silly.”

“Are you jealous of her? Cause you shouldn't be.”

“Harry…”

He turned his body toward her. The low light from the dashboard cut across his face, tracing the lines of tension around his mouth.

“I’m not taking you home like this,” he said quietly. “If you don’t want to talk to me, fine. But I’m not going to pretend everything’s okay when it’s clearly not. You're upset about something.”

A knot tightened in her throat and she swallowed around it. “I'm not jealous, so you know. The issue is… It's… dumb.”

“Then humor me.”

She rubbed her thumb over the seam of her coat, trying to gather the mess of her thoughts into something she could say out loud. “It’s just… that woman.”

“Sloane.”

“Yeah.” She hesitated, eyes fixed on the dash. “I know it’s not about her, not really. But she—” Her voice caught, and she pressed her lips together.

“She what?”

“She looked at me like I was… like I was this stupid little girl you picked up for fun. At least that's how it made me feel.”

His brow furrowed. “That’s not what this is.”

“I know.” She forced herself to look at him. “I do know that. But it made me think… about the age thing.”

His expression didn’t change, but she felt the heat rush up her neck as she continued. “I mean… we’re at different places in our lives. You’ve got kids, an ex-wife… a whole history I’m never going to be part of. And me…” She let out a breath. “I’m just some… twenty-something who doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

The confession hung there, raw and unpolished. She could feel her pulse hammering behind her ribs. The more she spoke, the dumber she felt.

Harry drew in a slow breath, his gaze steady on hers. “Is that what you think I see when I look at you?”

She didn’t answer because she wasn’t sure.

He reached across the console and covered her hand with his. “Y/n. If I wanted something easy… someone who didn’t have opinions or who was just here to make me feel young, I wouldn’t have come looking for you." He pushed out a laugh. "You're smart, outspoken, feisty… and to me, you and I get along really well. I don't really think much about the age difference.”

Her eyes burned. She tried to blink the heat away, but it didn’t help. “Then what is this? Because I…” She swallowed. “I really like you. And maybe that’s stupid, but I do. And I don’t know what this is to you.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that her heart sank, sure she’d just made everything worse. Then he gave her hand the smallest squeeze.

“It’s not stupid. And it’s not nothing. You’re not nothing to me.”

She felt something crack in her chest, relief and fear tangling so tightly she couldn’t pull them apart. He seemed so sincere. It was in his eyes, in the way he seemed so sure of what he said. She let her eyes wander over the numbers on the clock on his dashboard briefly.

Harry’s voice softened. “Look at me.”

She shifted her gaze back up to his again

“I like you,” he said simply. “I like you more than I've liked anyone in a really long time. And it’s not about your age. It’s about you. Like, genuinely, Y/n. I like you.”

Her throat tightened, her voice a whisper. “I don't know what to think sometimes. Because I really like you. One of my friends even warned me not to get attached because chances were you'd regret this or decide you'd had your fun and be done. I want to prove that that's not true, but I don't know… After what Sloane said…”

His jaw flexed, and for the first time that night, something like anger flashed in his eyes. Not at her, but at the idea itself. “People like that don’t know shit about us. They'll see soon enough that we're solid.”

She blinked, a shaky laugh escaping before she could stop it. Her grin widened as his did.

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand again. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not to Sloane, not to your friends, not to me.”

“But I feel like I do.”

He nodded, as if he understood more than he was saying. “Then let's figure this out together. Yeah? Probably time to really sit down and talk about what this is.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was tentative. Careful. But it felt gentle and hopeful.

Finally, he released her hand and started the engine. “All right,” he said, his voice low as he started up his car. “Let’s go back to mine and we'll talk about all this.”

The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. She felt like her skin was still buzzing from the way he’d looked at her when he was talking, like she was something precious, not temporary. That was all she wanted, really. To be taken seriously.

When he pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine, neither of them moved for a second. He just looked at her, his big hand resting on the gearshift like he was still debating whether to say more but he didn't. He climbed out and came around to open her door (always the gentleman), and when she stepped out, he caught her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his.

“You believe me?” he asked, voice low.

She swallowed. “I do.”

His mouth twitched. “Okay. Good. We've still got more to talk about.”

Inside, the house was dim and quiet. He flicked on the light over the kitchen and set his keys down. She hovered awkwardly by the counter, suddenly unsure what came next after her silly tantrum. Well, it wasn't really a tantrum, more like a moment of uncertainty and wavering confidence in what they were doing. What they were.

Harry turned to her, and for the first time all night, he looked uncertain too. Like he wasn’t sure if touching her would be the right thing. She hated that she'd made it weird.

“You want a drink?” he asked.

“No,” she said softly. “I just… I think I need you to tell me what this is.”

He stepped closer. “What do you want it to be?”

She hesitated, searching his face as she shook her head. ���I'm starting to have real feelings for you, Harry. I need to know we're on the same page. I want it to be something real.”

“It already is.”

Her breath came out in a wisp, and she opened her mouth to argue… she didn’t know why, maybe just out of stubborn habit, but he shook his head and cupped her jaw gently in his hand to keep her focus on him.

“I’m serious,” he said. “This isn’t casual for me. It hasn’t been for a while. I've got real feelings for you too, Y/n.”

She blinked, her heart fluttering so fast it almost made her lightheaded. “So what are you saying?”

He exhaled a slow, steadying breath, like he was working up to something.

“I’m saying…” he said, pausing as he took her hand and jutted his head toward the living room. "Let's go sit down."

She followed him to the couch, and just when she thought they'd both sit, he pulled her with him, dragging her into his lap and shifting them both until they were sitting together, looking at one another. He put an arm around her, his other hand on the top of her thigh.

“I've been thinking about it a lot, and I want you to be my girlfriend. If you want that too. Feels right to me.”

For a second, she couldn’t find her voice. All she could do was stare at him, her pulse thumping wildly in her ears. She gripped the side of his sweater in her fist and when she finally managed a breath, it came out thin. “Yes. I want that.”

His hand slid to the back of her neck, and he kissed her before she could say anything else. It was different from the other times. Like he was sealing something between them. Like a handshake but far sweeter.

She slid her hands up to the front of his chest, and when he pulled back, she was smiling so wide it almost hurt.

“You look happy,” he said quietly, thumb brushing over her cheek.

“I am,” she whispered.

“Good. That's what I want to see.”

He kissed her again, slow and sultry, his tongue sliding against hers, and she felt her body soften against his as all the tension she’d been carrying seemed to melt away.

When he finally pulled back, he moved his lips up to kiss her forehead. “Come on,” he said. “Need to make sure you understand how serious I am."

He didn’t rush her. Just led her down the hall with one big reassuring hand at the small of her back. When they reached the bedroom, he turned on the lamp on the dresser to fill the space with warm, honey-colored light. Then he faced her, quiet, searching her eyes as if he was giving her one last chance to change her mind.

She didn’t. She wouldn't. Harry was the man of her dreams, and if he was serious about all this… if he really wanted them to take their relationship to the next step, she was all in.

She stepped close and pressed her palms to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under her hands. God, he was gorgeous and so nice. She didn't know why she ever had second thoughts about his intentions.

“You’re sure you want me as your girlfriend?” she whispered, a cheeky soft smile working its way up on her mouth. Despite her grin, her question was serious.

His lips curved, soft and reassuring. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

His hands came up to cup her face, and he kissed her again. Long, unhurried, like he had all night to convince her she was all he wanted. She felt her body melt into his, her breath catching as he slid his hands down her sides, thumbs brushing over her hips.

When he pulled back, he started working the buttons on her coat that she'd yet to remove. It was slow and methodical, like every layer he plucked at was something he’d been waiting to see. A pleasure to shed each layer with the utmost care.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in a whisper, sliding the coat from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “So fucking beautiful. And so smart. So good for me.”

Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, but he didn’t laugh or tease her, just helped her, undoing each one until she could push it over his broad shoulders. She smoothed her palms over the warm skin of his chest, feeling the way his breath caught when she touched him.

“You make me feel like…” She trailed off, a flush of embarrassment washing over her at the vulnerability of the moment.

“Like what?” he asked softly.

“Like maybe this is real.”

He bent to kiss her jaw, his voice low and rough. “It is real, baby.”

His fingers slipped under the hem of her top, before he pulled it over her head. She shivered nervously, and at the cool air as it touched her skin, but he was already smoothing his palms up her arms, steadying her.

He kissed her again, deeply, ravaging, and her knees went weak at the slow slide of his mouth against hers. When she whimpered, he groaned and pressed her back toward the bed.

“Lie down,” he murmured against her lips.

She sat and then lowered down, her breath coming in soft little gasps as he followed her onto the mattress, bracing himself over her on his forearms. His eyes roved over her face as his chest rose and fell heavy.

“So pretty,” he said.

She puffed out a bashful laugh.

He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, taking his time, not hurrying to get her naked all at once. His big hand slid up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

“I want you to know how serious I am about you. Want you to feel it,” he said against her skin.

“You already showed me,” she breathed.

“Not enough.”

He kissed his way down her belly, pausing at the waistband of her skirt, and looked up at her. She watched him move his hands up her thighs, pushing the material up over her hips, revealing her thin underwear. He pressed kisses to every inch of skin he uncovered.

When he settled between her thighs, she gasped, one hand flying to his hair.

“Harry—”

“Shh.” His voice was husky. “Just let me take care of you.”

His mouth found her through her panties, warm and unhurried, his tongue stroking over the damp fabric until she was trembling. He moaned into the soaked cloth and lifted to look up at her.

She clocked that cocky grin on his face as she hooked his thumbs under the elastic of her waistband. "Love getting you messy."

Biting her lip, she watched as he pulled her skirt off and then finally removed her thong, dragging it down her legs slowly. He took his time, kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs, breathing her in like he couldn’t get enough.

He started easy and slow, flicking his tongue over her clit in steady, teasing strokes. When she whimpered, he slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right until her hips were lifting up off the mattress.

If there were things about Harry that she could brag on (there were many), one of them was that his cunnilingus game was on point. She'd never slept with anyone as good as him in general, but the way he could make her come with his mouth?

“Look at me,” he rasped.

She forced her eyes open, and the moment their gazes locked, the heat that had been building finally broke as he sucked her clit into his mouth and dragged his fingertips into that gooey, mushy spot inside of her that made her brain melt. She came with a soft, broken cry, her body shaking under his mouth.

He didn’t stop until she was squirming, fingers pumping, tongue swirling, and she was too sensitive to take any more. Only then did he kiss his way back up her body, his lips soft and warm against her skin.

She caught his face in her hands when he reached her, kissing him hard, tasting herself on his tongue. Her heart was pounding wildly from everything. Not just the orgasm, but also because of the talk they'd had. They were official. They were real. This was real.

“Need you,” she whispered. “Please.”

His breath shuddered out. “Yeah?

She nodded quickly and watched him as he shifted, removing his pants and then his underwear. He reached over to grab a condom from his nightstand. She sat up and helped him roll it on, her hands shaking with urgency to feel him inside of her.

He grinned at how excited she seemed to be. Yanking her thighs and pulling her against him, he leaned over her and kissed her slowly, only to feel her writhing under him impatiently.

He laughed. "What's the rush? I just made you come and you're already acting like you haven't even been touched?"

She rolled her eyes and lifted her hips. "You're my boyfriend now. Want to feel what it's like to have my boyfriend fucking me."

He moaned, hands dragging down her arms and then over her breasts before he pushed her thighs further apart. He tilted his gaze down between her legs, where his cock was hanging just over her. She felt him slide his thumbs down to her slick labia and then he pulled, opening up her hole to get a good view of where he was about to be buried.

"You drive a hard bargain, honey. You sure you're ready to feel it?" He grinned, eyes moving up over her body, scraping over the tops of her tits and up to her face.

She nodded. "Yes. Right there where your fingers are. Push your big cock in there, Harry."

Y/n was vibrating with need as he massaged just around her entrance, his fingers sliding around her pussylips slowly and pulling them apart again before he finally lined himself up with her.

With his thumb gliding over the pulsing hood of her clit he pressed his tip just past her tight muscle, and she inhaled sharply at the stretch (she always had to brace herself for that initial plunge). Harry cooed softly, halting his thrusts as he rubbed circles into her, watching her pretty bud shift under his thumb and the way her wet pussy was wrapped just around his tip.

When he was satisfied that she was ready for more, he shifted into her again, pressing more of his impressive girth deeper, spreading her open slowly.

"My girlfriend…" he said in a voice that couldn't even be considered a whisper. She almost didn't hear it. Y/n reached out to take his free hand, moving his grip from her thigh to thread their fingers together.

"Yes, your girlfriend."

With their eyes fixed, he buried in until his pelvis was pressed into her clit. Both of them reeling from the intimacy of it. And somehow, it felt different. It wasn't just sex. It was something bigger than just sex.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her free hand bracing his shoulder. He stayed still for a moment, just watching her face.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “So good.”

He groaned and began to move, slow and deep, every thrust measured. It felt so good every time they fucked, but this time was even better. Her insides ached around his cock as he dragged in and out languidly. She felt like he was trying to prove something with every careful slide of his body against hers.

And maybe he was. Maybe he wanted her to understand just how much she meant to him. How committed he was to her and only her. He'd do anything it took to get her to see she wasn't just some phase, some easy girl he could control… It was never that with him.

He rocked into her, lowering his chest enough that she could feel the sweep of his chest hair over her nipples. His lips brushed over hers as he panted. "Y'my girl, Y/n… Gonna make sure you know I mean it."

She moaned, sliding her fingers up against the back of his neck to pull his mouth down against hers. He flexed his fingers against hers, their hands still grasped together as he fucked in deep.

The sound of his length gliding through her was wet and filthy, lined by their moans and the soft plapping of skin together. Her body wrapped around him, little muscles flexing over his cock as he stuffed into her, lips and tongues moving together… it was all bringing them both to their end rapidly.

He felt her tensing under him. Pushing in as deep as he could go, until her body was shuddering and she was gasping, he ground into her when she came. The pulsing of her walls on him had him sucking in a sharp breath and pressing his forehead to hers when her lips were no longer moving with his. Her soft gasps mingled with his low groans, and then it was his turn.

His movements were harsher, faster, as he fucked in. Sweat formed over his chest as he braced himself for his orgasm. He drove into her, hips pumping until finally he was coming, buried in tight and throbbing as he filled his condom.

"Fuck…"

After, he didn’t pull away. Just stayed close, kissing her cheeks and her mouth, his hand stroking her temple until her breathing slowed and she finally opened her eyes. He was smiling down at her. A soft expression, gentle, full of feeling and warmth

“Told you I was serious,” he said.

She smiled, her heart thudding. “I believe you.”

.

The morning sun spilled across the kitchen floor, catching on the steam curling up from her mug. Y/n tugged the hem of Harry’s soft old t-shirt lower over her bare thighs and shifted on her stool, trying not to grin like an idiot but failing miserably.

It was hard not to with him standing across the counter in just a pair of sweats, hair still messy from her fingers not long before.

He poured more coffee into her mug, even though she hadn’t finished the first. “What're you smiling about?” His grin gave away that he already knew.

She shrugged, wrapping her palms around the warm ceramic. “You.”

“Oh yeah? Like that I make you smile so big.” He reached over and tugged gently at the sleeve of her borrowed shirt. “This looks better on you.”

“Better than on you?” she teased.

He leaned over the counter, close enough that she could smell the faint clean musk of his skin. “Much better,” he said, voice low.

He sank over her skin. She was about to say something stupid, something mushy she’d definitely regret admitting out loud, when the doorbell rang.

Harry straightened, brows pulling together in confusion.

“Expecting someone?”

“No.” He glanced toward the hall, then back at her. “I'll find out who it is. Be right back.”

Her pulse ticked up as he walked to the front door. She couldn’t hear what was being said at first, just the low rumble of his voice. Then another voice, higher in pitch, a little sharp, feminine: “—and I just thought I’d drop by since you didn’t answer your phone.”

Y/n’s heart thumped harder. She knew without even seeing who it was. And god, she wasn't ready for this yet. She took another sip of her coffee, ears straining to listen as she moved from the stool and stepped toward the living room mindlessly.

Harry’s reply was quiet, but it didn’t hide the tension. “All right. Everything okay?”

“No. I wanted to talk about Riley. And about next weekend. But—”

The woman’s voice cut off, and Y/n realized too late that she’d stepped halfway into view, mug clutched to her chest like a shield.

Harry’s ex was tall, polished, her hair perfectly done, even this early. She turned her eyes on Y/n and took her in with one slow, measured glance.

“Oh.” Her mouth curved, though it wasn’t exactly a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

Y/n swallowed, acutely aware she wasn’t wearing pants. “Hi,” she managed, her voice embarrassingly small.

Harry’s hand lifted, almost like he was going to reach toward her, but he stopped himself. “This is Y/n. Y/n, this is Colette… the kids' mom.”

“Y/n,” his ex repeated, lips pressing together. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Y/n echoed, trying to ignore the heat climbing her cheeks.

The silence stretched between the three of them, brittle and awkward. She was kicking herself for having stepped toward the living room. She should have just stayed put, but what was done was done, and now she was staring at the woman Harry had once been married to. The mother of his kids.

His ex shifted her gaze back to Harry. “Anyway,” she said briskly, “I wanted to go over Riley’s behavior. Her teacher has said she’s been acting out again, and I don’t want it escalating before next weekend when you get them.”

“Of course,” Harry said, his jaw flexing. “Let’s—”

His ex lifted a brow, flicking her eyes pointedly to Y/n. “Maybe we can talk privately?”

Y/n’s face went hot. “I’ll, um… just—” She gestured vaguely toward the hallway and retreated before she could finish the rest of her sentence.

In the bedroom, she set her mug down on the dresser. God, she felt stupid. She was an intruder in someone else’s life… someone with kids, an ex, responsibilities she couldn’t even begin to understand.

She perched on the edge of the bed, fingers knotting in the hem of the t-shirt, and tried to breathe, to calm herself a little. This was part of the deal; she'd have to get used to the occasional run-in with his ex. She just hadn't been prepared for it.

It felt like forever before the front door finally shut again and Harry's footsteps padded down the hallway. When he stepped into the bedroom, he didn’t look annoyed. He looked tired, but the second his eyes landed on her, something in his expression softened.

“Hey,” he murmured, crossing the room.

“Sorry,” she blurted, before she could stop herself. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Or interrupt. Or—”

“Stop.” He crouched in front of her, big hands bracketing her knees. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her eyes darted to the door, then back to him. “She hates me.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “She doesn’t even know you.”

“She hates that I’m here,” she insisted, voice cracking as she looked down at the lack of clothing she had on. “That I’m… like this. Prancing around in your t-shirt while she's—”

His thumbs brushed slowly over her thighs. “She can think whatever she wants.”

“She’s the mother of your kids, Harry. I want to make a good impression. I think I just blew it.”

“You're overthinking it. And you’re my girlfriend.” His voice was steady. “You have every right to be here. She'll get used to seeing you around.”

She swallowed. “I just don’t want to make everything harder.”

His hands slid up to her hips, pulling her closer so he could press his forehead to her sternum. “You’re not. You’re not making anything harder. You make everything better, in fact. Don't stress about this, baby.”

She let her fingers drift into his hair, holding him there. “Okay. Promise?”

He tipped his head back, looking up at her. “I promise. I wouldn’t have asked you to be mine if I weren't ready for all of this.”

Her chest squeezed so tight she thought it might break her ribs. “Okay,” she whispered.

He kissed the underside of her jaw. “You’re staying,” he said simply. “I want you here. Next time, I promise I'll introduce you properly. Was just caught off guard by her showing up like that."

She nodded. "Yeah. Hopefully next time we get a heads up so I can get dressed and make myself look presentable."

He laughed. "You're perfectly presentable just like this."

"I'm not. But thank you." She grinned.

"You good? I don't want you getting in your head about this. There's nothing to worry about."

"I know. You're right. I'm good, Harry."

He smiled, that slow, easy grin she was already addicted to. “Good.”

. .

Feedback/Thoughts | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @stylesftcher @jerseygirlinca @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran

@tiaamberxx @closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @malwtilda @itjustkindahappenedreally

@onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lc-fics @hannahdressedasabanana

@babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997

@imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo

@brittanyzelazno @caynonmoondreams @mellamolayla @ladscarlett @heartateasee

@littlenatilda @michellekstyles @harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994

@bananabk9756 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb @fruity-harry @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@mema10 @gmikaelson @vanteguccir @fangirl509east @virgopr1ncess

@hoolabalooba

[daylightmidnights]

AFTER SCHOOL SHE RAN TO ME

harry styles x fem!reader ( based on this c.ai bot )

warnings: smut!!! penetration, oral (f&m receiving), protected sex (birth control), praising, squirting, spanking if you squint,ecc...family issues? age gap (18-22).

summary: it’s supposed to be casual—no labels, no promises—but she keeps coming back, leaving pieces of herself in every corner of his life. Their relationship is a push-and-pull, marked by intense physical chemistry and banter. While there's a clear deep affection between them, Harry insists it’s just a fling, even as his actions int at something deeper. She’s already fallen, wanting more than stolen time and careful avoidance. Something this intense was never going to stay simple, because love unspoken still leaves scars.

note: hi, loves! this is the first story I’ve ever written, so I’m super excited (and a little nervous) to share it with you! feel free to leave any questions or constructive criticism—just remember to be kind 🥹 I love you all, enjoy it! 💗💗

I’m slouched on the couch, one leg tucked beneath me, glancing at the clock like I can make time move faster just by staring at it. 1:00 PM. This is a ritual now—our ritual—me waiting, anxious, you showing up after school like you're mine, even when we both know better. The door clicks open, the rattle of your keys. A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes just in time to see you appear—same uniform, same messy bun, same flushed cheeks from walking too fast. You look like yesterday—and the day before—but still, somehow, better. There’s something intoxicating about the way you carry yourself like you belong here.

You glance toward the living room, a smile breaking over your face the second your eyes meet mine. Your bag drops by the door, shoes kicked off, you walk down the hallway like this is your home and maybe, in a way, it is. You reach me and I guide you down gently. You curl into me without a word, like muscle memory, your legs draped over mine, head resting against my chest like you’re trying to become part of me.

“How was school?” I ask, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, letting my hand linger too long.

You shrug into my chest. “Boring, as always.” I remember hating school so much I barely finished, started bartending just to have something that felt like mine.

I’m 22. You’re 18, just old enough for this to be legal, just young enough that it still feels like a sin. Your parents don’t know or maybe they just don’t care enough to ask, always away, always working, always too absent in a way that bruises. You started coming over after school, sometimes a few hours, sometimes the night, when your parents are gone, entire weekends. My apartment became your escape, our secret. You’ve left things here—your pink toothbrush beside my green one, your favorite hoodie slung over my desk chair, a pack of pads in my bathroom drawer, you even stocked my kitchen with your favorite snacks. You keep saying you’ll take them back, but you don’t. I try to pretend we’re nothing official—no labels, no promises—but we laugh like lovers, cuddle like couples, dress in matching outfits like we’re something soft and stupid and real. We’ve never had the talk but I know you’ve already fallen, I see it in your eyes and if I’m honest, I’m falling too—quietly, carefully, like it might hurt less if I don’t say it out loud, but it still hurts.

“I missed you,” I murmur into your hair.

You go still, just for a second. “I missed you too,” you whisper, voice small. Then you lift your head, your smile warm and wide and a little too trusting.

I trace a finger from your arm to your jaw, tilting your face up. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, more confession than compliment.

Your lips part, eyes flicking down to mine. You lean in, slow, waiting for me to meet you halfway but I pull back. I clear my throat and drop my hand. “Go change out of your uniform,” I say, voice hoarse. “I’ll order food.”

You blink, hurt flickers behind your eyes, just for a moment, but you nod, soft and obedient. “ ‘kay,” you say, already adjusting your skirt, already walking away.

I watch you go, watch the way my t-shirt hugs your body when you return minutes later, socks pulled up to your knees, pink lace panties peeking out beneath the hem. “Pizza?” you ask, standing in front of me like temptation in bare legs and cherry lip gloss.

I nod. “Yeah.”

You straddle my lap without asking, arms looped around my neck, your nose brushes mine. “Ordered my favorite?”

“Of course,” I say and I don’t even try to hide the way I’m staring at you now.

You press a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, gentle, meaningful, dangerous. “Mhm...” you whisper, hopping up again. “I want a lollipop.”

And I swear—I don’t know what happens—but I’m following you like a damn puppy, watching as you bend over the drawer just a little too slow, your ass in the air, that pink lace doing absolutely nothing to keep me sane. You unwrap the cherry sucker and pop it between your lips like it’s nothing, like you don’t know what you’re doing.

But you know. God, you know.

“Stop teasing,” I warn, voice low.

You look over your shoulder, all fake innocence. “I’m not teasing.”

“Mhm. You’re in my shirt, no bra, sucking a lollipop like you’re practicing a blowjob.”

You smirk. “Maybe I am.”

I snap, in one breath I’m on you, hands on your hips, mouth on yours. The taste of cherry overwhelms me, you moan into the kiss, grinding against me like you need something only I can give. “Fucking hell,” I groan, lifting you off the ground and pressing you against the hallway wall.

My shirt rides up your thighs as my hands roam, sliding underneath to touch bare, soft skin. “Want something better to keep your mouth busy?” I murmur, voice rough, popsicle still in your hand. You nod, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed.

“On your knees.” You drop fast, obedient, like you’ve been waiting all day to be told to, the sight alone knocking the breath out of me. My shirt drowns your frame, slipping off one shoulder, barely covering the lace between your thighs.

My belt immediately hits the floor, my cock’s out—hard, aching—and your lips part like a prayer, soft and wet, pupils blown wide. I grip the back of your head gently, fingers tangling in that perfect mess of hair, guiding you like I know you want to be guided. You start slow, leaving soft kisses along the base, your tongue flicking up the side, teasing. “How long until the pizza gets here?” you whisper, lips brushing my skin.

I glance at my watch. “Twenty minutes.”

You smile and take your time, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the length, your tongue dragging up the vein until you reach the tip. You glance up at me as you swirl your tongue around it—teasing, tasting—watching for my reaction like it’s your favorite game. Your lips wrap around the head, warm and soft and so fucking good I have to brace myself against the wall in front of me. You moan around me like the taste alone does something to you and the vibration sends a jolt straight down my spine. My jaw clenches, my eyes flutter closed for a second and my hand tighten in your hair. Then you sink lower, inch by inch, you take me deeper, your throat opening with practiced ease, spit already slicking your lips. You gag just a little when you bottom out and it nearly undoes me. “Jesus Christ,” I groan, voice shredded. “Look at you.”

You pull back slowly, breathing heavy, strings of saliva clinging from your lips to my cock. You blink up at me with that glossy, wrecked look that makes my knees go weak. Then you smirk and go back down again, faster this time, more desperate. Your hands grip my thighs as you bob your head, lips stretched, cheeks hollowing with every stroke. Your spit drips down your chin, pooling at the corner of your mouth and you don’t care. You look like heaven or hell.

“God, your mouth-" I bite down a moan, my hips starting to move on their own, shallow thrusts into your waiting throat.

I try to hold back, I really do but then you hum around me, tongue teasing underneath the shaft while your fingers slide up to cup my balls and I fucking lose it. “Shit. I’m gonna-” I barely get the warning out before I pull back, trying to give you a chance to breathe.

But you shake your head, grab my ass and pull me back in. You want it, all of it. I come with a ragged moan, hips twitching, eyes rolling back as you swallow every drop without flinching, still sucking me through it, like you don’t want to waste a single second of it. I watch you, eyes hazy, chest heaving, until you finally pull back, licking your lips slow, dragging your hand across your mouth to wipe the mess off your chin.

“Still got fifteen minutes before the pizza gets here,” you murmur, eyes twinkling with mischief.

And fuck, I’m already getting hard again. I pull you to your feet, kiss you deep, the taste of me still on your tongue, your breath still uneven. My hands slide under my shirt, finding bare skin, warm and soft and mine. “You’ve no idea what you just started,” I whisper into your mouth.

You just smile. “Then show me.” I kiss you like I’m starving, like I just got everything I wanted and still need more. Your mouth is still warm, lips slick with spit and me, and when you let out a soft little whimper into the kiss, I snap. I spin you around, press your chest to the hallway wall, your hands bracing flat against it.

You gasp, hips jutting back instinctively, your ass grinding against my cock desperately. “You think you’re in control, huh?” I growl into your ear, hands already bunching the oversized t-shirt up around your waist.

“No,” you breathe, but your tone betrays you.

My hand comes down hard on your ass, the sound echoing off the walls, you yelp, hips jerking forward. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not- fuck-” you choke on a moan when I do it again, this time kneading the flesh in my hand afterward, soothing the sting.

I drop to my knees behind you, gripping your thighs to part them and you lean further into the wall like you already know what's coming. “Stay still.”

“Mmhm,” you hum, hips trembling as I hook my fingers in the waistband of your lace panties and drag them down slow, watching the fabric peel away from your soaked skin.

“Jesus, you're dripping.” you whine, rocking your hips back, trying to tempt my mouth closer.

“Be patient.” I spread you open and lean in, dragging my tongue through your folds, slow and deliberate. You gasp, your legs nearly giving out.

I grip your thighs tighter, holding you in place as I start to devour you—flicking, sucking, licking in deep strokes. You moan, loud and unfiltered, one hand slamming against the wall while the other reaches back to thread through my hair. Your body starts to shake when I focus on your clit, alternating between gentle flicks and firm suction. “Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—” you pant, voice pitching higher, but I pull back.

“No,” I growl, standing up behind you and pressing my chest to your back. “Not yet.”

You whimper, trying to rub against me, but I grip your hips tight. “Beg.”

Your breath catches, your forehead rests against the wall. “Please.”

“Not enough.”

You turn your head slightly, voice ragged and wrecked. “Please let me come. Please, fuck, please touch me, I need it, I need you.”

I groan at how fucked out you sound already. I line myself up, tease your entrance with the thick head of my cock, rubbing it through your slick folds, not pushing in yet, just letting you feel it. “You want it, baby?”

You nod desperately. “I need it.”

And that’s all it takes. I push in, slow and deep, both of us groaning at the stretch, the heat, the way you grip me like you were made for it. “God, you’re so tight,” I hiss, bottoming out with one deep thrust. You cry out, knuckles white against the wall, back arching as I fill you completely.

I start to move—long, hard strokes—hands gripping your hips like handles, dragging you back onto me with every thrust. Each time I slam into you, you let out a helpless moan, loud and shameless, echoing down the hallway like you don't care if the whole world hears. “You like this?” I pant, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder, the other sneaking between your legs to rub tight circles on your clit. “You like me fucking you like this, with your mouth still tasting like me?”

“Y-yes, fuck, please don’t stop!” you clench hard around me and I know you're close again.

“Come for me,” I command, grinding deep into you, fingers working faster. “Let go.”

You shatter around me, moaning so loud it borders on a scream, your body shaking violently as you come hard on my cock, legs trembling and struggling to hold you up. But I don’t stop, I fuck you through it, chasing my own release, the heat and tightness and the fucking sight of you undone in front of me pushing me right over the edge. With one final thrust, I bury myself deep and come inside you, groaning into your neck, both of us breathing like we’ve just survived something. We stay like that for a moment, pressed together, flushed skin and heaving lungs, before I pull out, slow, watching your pussy flutter and my load drip down your thighs.

“You okay?” I murmur against your shoulder, placing a soft kiss there.

You turn to look at me, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy, lips parted. “I’m perfect,” you whisper, then the doorbell rings.

“Pizza’s here,” I say, brushing a damp lock of hair from your cheek.

You smirk, legs still shaky, t-shirt still bunched around your waist. “Mh, I'm starving.”

You’re on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, biting into your second slice of pizza like you didn’t just get railed against my hallway wall. You look stupidly pretty like this—bare legs dangling off the edge, my shirt hanging loose on your frame, still not bothering to fix your messy bun. You catch me staring and smirk around a mouthful of pepperoni. “What?” you say, chewing slow just to be a brat. “Wipe that look off your face, you already came.”

I grin, leaning on the counter in front of you, pizza box between us. “Didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t have to, you’ve got that stupid face.”

“Which one?” I ask, acting innocently.

“The one where you look like you want to marry me because I gave you head.” I scoff and take a bite, chewing slow, trying not to laugh. It’s domestic, ridiculously so—pizza grease on your fingers, the soft sound of rain against the kitchen window. I hand you a napkin and you miss the pass entirely, making me wipe your cheek for you. You lean into the touch without thinking, too natural, too dangerous.

“You always make me eat after,” you tease, watching me through your lashes. “Is this part of some fucked-up care protocol?”

“You’re the one who goes feral on her knees,” I say, wiping your lip with my thumb. “I’m just refeeding you.”

“You say that like I’m a stray cat you found in the alley.”

“You kind of are.” You gasp in fake offense and swat me with your foot. I catch your ankle and lift it higher, pressing a kiss to the inside, just beneath the knee. Your whole body softens, just like that. I see it flicker across your face—that look, the one you don’t mean to give me, the one that says you’re falling even harder and you don’t know how to stop—but then you blink it away, because we don’t talk about that.

So you hop off the counter like nothing happened, brushing crumbs off your thighs. “Alright, let’s go. You promised you’d let me beat your ass in Scrabble tonight.”

“Delusional" I mutter.

“You’re just mad because I used ‘vexingly’ on a triple word score last time and you never recovered.”

“That wasn’t even a real word.” I murmur back.

“Tell that to Merriam-Webster, bitch.” you say walking out the kitchen, my eyes locked on your ass and I have to take a deep breath before following you into the living room.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the carpet, gloating over your win. I’m stretched out on the couch above you, shirt halfway unbuttoned, pretending I don’t care you just annihilated me by thirty points. “Rematch?” I offer.

You smirk. “You sure you want to lose twice in one night?”

My gaze drops to your thighs. "Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You roll your eyes and crawl over, climbing up between my legs, straddling my lap again like you were built for it. You cup my face in your hands, nose brushing mine. “You’re kind of annoying when I beat you at things,” you murmur, but you’re smiling.

I grab your waist, sliding my hands up under my shirt—your shirt now—palming the bare curve of your sides. You kiss me slow, deeper this time, less teasing, more want. You grind down just a little and I feel it—the warmth, the ache, the way you’re already wet again. You shift your hips and gasp into my mouth when I squeeze your ass. You press your forehead to mine. “Hey…earlier, when I said I missed you, you-” You pause. “Do you wanna talk about it now?”

My hands still, that thing in my chest pulls tight. I stare at you, heartbeat stuttering. For a second, I think about answering, actually answering, but then I lean forward, lift you by the thighs and flip you onto your back on the couch and I kiss down your chest instead. “I’ll take that as a no,” you whisper, breathless.

I don’t reply, I just spread your legs and bury my face between them like it’s the only thing I know how to do. You’re soaked, still sensitive. I lick slow just to be mean, watching the way you shiver, trying to keep quiet, but you can't. “Shit, f-fuck Styles” You squirm, one hand in my hair, the other gripping the cushion above your head. I press your thighs wider, tongue dragging flat across your clit before teasing your entrance with the tip.

Then I start eating you like I own you—like if I make you come hard enough, maybe you’ll forget what you asked. You cry out when I push two fingers inside, curling them up, my mouth never leaving you. Your hips buck, your moans are sharp, broken things. “Gonna make a mess,” I murmur into you. “Gonna come all over my mouth, huh?”

You nod wildly, hips chasing every movement. “Please, I need-” You fall apart fast, thighs squeezing around my head, moaning my name like it’s the only word you remember.

I give you a second to breathe, barely, then I’m unzipping my jeans once again, pulling your legs over my hips, sliding into you in one hard thrust that punches a gasp out of your chest. “Fuck, baby,” I groan, snapping my hips into you, slow and punishing. “You feel so. fucking. good.”

You arch, hands scrambling at my back, pulling me deeper. “Talk to me,” you whimper.

I shake my head, lips pressed to your throat. “Not now.”

“Why not?” Because if I say it—if I tell you how this feels like home, how losing you would kill me—I won’t be able to stop.

So I fuck you harder and you let me. I grip your hips firmly tight enough to leave marks, as I drive into you—hard, relentless. Every thrust echoes with the brutal slap of skin on skin, the room thick with sweat, heat and the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth. My thumb grinds into your clit, slow circles with just the right pressure and I don’t take my fucking eyes off you. Your lips are parted, whimpering, cheeks flushed, hair coming undone, strands sticking to the sweat slicked across your face. You look wrecked already—exactly how I like you.

“Fuck,” I mutter, watching your tits bounce with each thrust, hypnotized. “Look at you…taking it so fucking good.”

“You were made for this. For me. For my cock,” I growl, voice gritty with lust. “This tight little pussy, clenching like it knows who it fucking belongs to.”

“Harry—fuck!” you cry out, voice cracking, body shaking under the weight of it all. My thumb keeps circling your clit, merciless, your legs tremble, your moans getting high and desperate. “I’m—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna—” You’re choking on the words, voice strangled with pleasure and I feel it—your cunt starts pulsing around me, desperate, wild—this isn’t like before.

You’re about to fucking squirt. You’ve never done that with me or anyone else and the thought drives me insane. I start to pound harder, faster, practically snarling as I fuck into you like I’ve lost control. “Yeah?” I taunt, breath ragged. “Gonna soak me, baby? Gonna gush all over my cock like a filthy little slut?”

You nod frantically, mouth open, eyes watery and glassy. “Do it,” I growl. “Give it to me. Fucking make a mess for me.”

You let out this broken moan and then your body locks up, tight, and everything explodes. You scream, whole body convulsing as hot liquid gushes out of you in waves, soaking my cock, dripping down your thighs and onto the couch. Your pussy clamps around nothing as I pull out, dragging my soaked cock against your throbbing clit, drawing it out. “Jesus—fuck yes. That’s it. Look at this fucking mess,” I groan, watching you fall apart beneath me.

You’re shaking uncontrollably, gasping, tears streaking your cheeks. You’ve never come like that before and it shows—your legs are trembling, your belly soaked, couch drenched. You’re ruined, spent, absolutely perfect. “Oh my god,” you whisper, voice hoarse and wrecked, eyes barely open.

“I know, baby,” I say, panting, voice still rough. “I know it’s a lot. You took it so fucking well.” I grip my cock, still rock hard, soaked in you, and start stroking fast, staring down at your wrecked body—quivering thighs, wet skin, flushed face. You’re barely holding yourself up and I’m so close I can taste it.

“Fuck—gonna cum—” I can’t even get the words out. My hips jerk and I let go with a guttural moan, hot ropes of cum striping your stomach, your pussy, dripping down your slit as you twitch under me.

I lean over you, chest heaving, trying to come down. I brush your face gently, thumb dragging over your cheek. “You okay?” I murmur, still catching my breath. “Still with me, angel?”

You blink, slow and dazed, lips twitching into a sleepy, blissed-out smile. “I’m here…fuck. That was insane.”

I chuckle, voice wrecked. “Yeah, it was.”

We're curled up on the couch, your back against my chest, and I wrap my arms around you like I don’t want to let go. The room smells like us, a mix of sweat and something softer, something familiar now. Your head rests on my shoulder, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on my arm. We’re quiet, but the silence isn’t empty, it’s heavy, full of all the things neither of us says. “You’re warm,” you murmur, voice low, almost shy.

I smile and press a kiss to the top of your head. “Only for you.”

You shift, looking up at me with those big eyes that somehow always catch me off guard. There’s something fragile there, like you’re trying to hold back everything crashing inside. I know you want to talk, but you don’t know how. “Do you wanna finish that conversation we started earlier?” you ask, biting your lip.

I shake my head, not wanting to open up too much. “Not right now.”

You pout but lean back against me and I pull a cloth from the coffee table. Carefully, I wipe the mess off your skin. You’re on the pill, so I guess I’m just lucky to have you in every way. You close your eyes and I swear I can feel your breath begin to even out. “We should shower before we head out,” I say, my voice soft.

You laugh, nudging me. “Do I really have to clean up? I’m comfy here.”

I smirk. “You smell like trouble.”

You pout, giving me your best puppy eyes and I sigh, nodding slowly. “Do you want to eat the leftover cookies from last week?” I ask, raising a brow as my hand caresses your side gently.

You grin. “Cookies are probably stale.”

“So are we skipping sugar or was that just you calling me old in disguise?”

Your laugh echoes through the space and it does something to my chest—it’s light, unguarded. “You’re only four years older. Calm down, grandpa,” you tease, your eyes shining in that way that makes it hard to look anywhere else.

“You always get like this after,” I say softly, half-teasing. “Acting like we’re just...normal.”

“Aren’t we?” you ask, but your voice is quieter now.

I open my mouth to answer, but your phone buzzes, slicing through the moment. You glance down at the screen and sigh. “It’s my mom.”

“Want me to give you a minute?” I ask.

You nod. “Yeah, just-…wait for me in the shower, okay?”

I kiss your forehead and head toward the bathroom, giving you space. Your mom’s voice crackles through the line, she sounds distracted, like always. “Hey, honey. Just wanted to say your dad and I got extended for five more days, big client. You good on your own?”

“Yeah, totally,” you lie easily. “I’ve just been studying all day.”

“Mhm,” she says, barely listening. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

A pause, but she doesn’t push. “Alright. Love you.”

“Love you too.” The moment the line clicks dead, your stomach twists.

The water’s warm, steam rising around me as I let it beat against my shoulders. When you step into the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around you, I already know something’s shifted. You drop the towel and step in. I don’t touch you at first, I wait, let you get under the water, your back to me. Together, we start rinsing the day off, but this is more than just a shower—it’s gentle touches, brushing hair out of your face, tracing the curve of your back. “What’s wrong?” I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

You shrug, voice low. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” I say, stepping closer, letting the water fall over both of us. My hands find your hips, steadying you and I turn you around gently.

“I hate them,” you whisper.

I frown. “What?”

“My parents. I mean…not hate. But..." You look away. “I hate the way my parents leave me alone, since I was thirteen it’s always been like this. They don’t know I’m with you, they don’t even know I…had my first time already. I get drunk sometimes, tried weed. They don’t care about what I really want, just school, uni decisions, pressure. They never see me."

You pause. "This, here, it’s the only place I can just be, but if they don’t deserve me, then who does? If I don’t have them, then I don’t have anyone.”

I swallow hard. “You’ve got me.”

That hits you like a punch to the chest. You pull back, eyes sharp. “No, I don’t. It’s temporary, casual. One day this will end and I won’t have you either.”

I flinch, but hold you tighter. “You have me now. I know it’s not forever, but at least you have me.”

You scoff, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall, your face hardening just a little. “That’s not enough.” You don’t mean it cruel, you mean it honest. "It’s not enough anymore, Harry. Not for me. Can’t you see? I know it started as something fun—secret, sexy, messy. Someone older, someone who kept my mind busy. But now? I need stability, someone in my life, because I have no one. And next year, when I move for university, the only person I can imagine being with is you.”

I flinch, not because I don’t want it, but because I do and that terrifies me. “I can’t give you what you need,” I say. “I’m not the answer to forever, I never was, I thought we both knew that.”

Tears spill over and you press your hands to my chest, desperate. “Why not? Why can’t you be my boyfriend? The one who meets my family, takes me on real dates, picks me up from school with coffee?” You choke on the next words. “Do you think flings are like this? Do you think flings keep toothbrushes in the bathroom? Keep snacks in the kitchen? Keep textbooks in the desk drawer?"

I look away. “I just can’t. It’s not what I want.”

You freeze, eyes locked on mine. “So you don’t want me.” You whisper, bitterly. “Of course,” you say, voice breaking. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. What a fool to believe I was more than some younger girl warming your bed, pleasing you when you’re bored. Fucking naive.”

You step out of the shower, dripping, grabbing your towel, not even bothering to wash off. My hands are frozen at my sides. “Wait, please,” I say, stepping out, not even grabbing a towel as I follow you into the bedroom.

“It’s done,” you say through clenched teeth, pulling on your uniform fast, hands shaking.

“Don’t go.”

“I was just a fling, I knew that from the start, I shouldn’t have expected more. I just didn’t think it would hurt this bad.” you say dressing fast.

“You weren’t just—”

You slide your shoes on, voice shaking. “What makes me angry is I opened up to you, talked about my life, my future, and you never stopped me. I hate you! I hate you ’cause you’re an asshole and I hate myself ’cause I’m such a fool.”

I take a step closer, desperate. “I know I’m an idiot, I messed up, but please, don’t go.”

You back away, glare sharp. “Don’t touch me!" I stop, chest heaving, hair dripping down my shoulders.

“You’re more than a distraction.” I choke.

"More? If I’m not your girlfriend or your distraction, then what am I?” you grab your school bag, ready to leave. "You don’t want me that way and I get it. It was good as long as I spread my legs and never asked for more. I’ll come for the rest of my things another day.”

“No, you...you’re more than just a friend." I say desperately as you turn to leave.

“Then say it,” you say, stopping.

"You’re more than just a distraction or than a friend...you're—” I want to say mine, but I can’t. You wait, eyes searching mine, hoping for more, hoping I’ll beg, say I love you, say you could change my mind.

But I don’t say anything.

Your jaw tightens, disappointment written all over your face. “That’s what I thought.” You nod slowly, bitterly. “It’s done,” you say, wiping tears away.

“Princess, please don’t go,” I plead.

You shake your head, open the door, step out and leave—never looking back, leaving me alone with my mistakes and the weight of how much I’m already in love with you.

If I hadn’t ruined this, maybe we’d be out with my friends now, partying, leaving this undefined mess alone for one more night, but I did ruin it and now I stand there, naked, wet and cold, knowing I’ve just let the only person who’s ever made this place feel like home walk out of it.

@merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @cherriesnkisses @xarviax @finelinemia @fallingwillow @harryslove13 @tillyshouse @misspossessiveharry @tpwkmr @hontpwk @c0wboylikeharry @sincerely-yours-marsbar @bebopbumblebee @evas1ncenewyork @maudie-duan @myonlyangelwrites13 @myonlyangel13 @patriwxlls @carolinaastyles @nanaisinmars @nikkihs @harrysslut7 @emmie2308 @lntrrys @vojdcamy13