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finelinefae · 3 months ago

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trust [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: bambi wants to try something new

word count: 7.9k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), shy reader, boyfriend!h, smut (soft smut like very gentle and loving), inexperienced y/n

this is part 4 of Bambi, read part 3 here

. . .

How do I shave down there without getting red, itchy bumps?

Follow these six simple steps to prepare for your first time!

How to suck dick 101

Y/N scrolled through a Reddit page at her desktop computer at work, the screen glowing softly in the dim office lighting. It was a page she had found after typing into Google, ‘how to prepare for your first time.’ Hundreds of subreddits appeared, each packed with questions and experiences Y/N hadn’t even considered until reading about them. She had fallen down the rabbit hole, finding a question and then getting lost in the responses.

Lostrabbit23: I lost my virginity at 15 and it was the worst experience of my life!!!! Lasted five minutes and the guy came before he even put his dick inside me, I swear.

Redberry5: Lost my virginity at 25 and it was a good experience. I’m glad I waited for the right person.

Whitedude32: Can’t understand how people can still be virgins past 18 tbh - just get it over with and live a little.

Y/N gnawed on her bottom lip, her eyes absorbing every word on the page. It seemed unnecessary, and she knew she was overthinking as she normally did, but… Y/N had a boyfriend now. A real boyfriend. And with every boyfriend, she knew what was expected.

The more she read, the more she realized how little she knew. A seed of doubt planted itself within her, growing with every scroll. What if Harry found out just how inexperienced she was? What if he didn’t think she looked pretty naked and ended up having second thoughts about being with her? The thought made her stomach twist in knots.

"Are you watching porn?" Lindsey sauntered over to Y/N's desk, balancing a stack of binders on her hip. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she frantically clicked off the incognito tab and opened a random Microsoft Word document.

"W-What?" Y/N stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "No! Of course not."

"Hmm," Lindsey placed the binders down with a soft thud and crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "Then why do you look like I just caught you red-handed? That’s not like you."

"I wasn’t doing anything," Y/N blurted, trying to keep her voice steady. "Just looking at today’s meeting notes."

Lindsey leaned in, peering over Y/N’s shoulder. "These notes are from three weeks ago."

Y/N’s eyes darted to the date at the top of the page. "I was catching up?" she added, her voice faltering.

Lindsey raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear on her face. "So, is this Reddit obsession new, or have you always had it?"

Y/N’s face burned hotter. "I-I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lindsey gave her a pointed look, "You left your tabs open during lunch. Rookie mistake."

Y/N felt like dying, “I did?” She almost felt like crying, embarrassment washing over her entire body she could feel it burning, “I-I was just researching stuff,”

Lindsey’s expression softened slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. " What kind of 'stuff' are we talking about here?"

Y/N hesitated, her fingers nervously tapping the edge of her keyboard. "Just… things. You know, advice. Relationship stuff."

Lindsey’s eyes lit up with curiosity. "Oh, relationship stuff? Now we're getting somewhere. Who’s the lucky man?”

Y/N and Harry were both sure that Lindsey already knew they were an item but they weren’t going to risk slipping their facade by bringing it up, “Just somebody.”

Lindsey looked knowingly, “Okay well are you planning on taking the next step with this just somebody?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to respond. Whenever things got too intense with Harry, she had a habit of pulling away or steering the conversation elsewhere. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to share those moments with him—she did. But she needed to feel ready, to prepare herself for something so intimate.

“I... I think I want to,” she said softly, avoiding his eyes. Her voice trembled as she added, “I just... I just want to be good.”

Lindsey’s expression softened immediately. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, stepping forward to wrap Y/N in a warm hug. The gesture brought a lump to Y/N’s throat. In the weeks since she’d started her new job, Lindsey had become like the older sister she’d never had—someone she could trust completely.

Pulling back, Lindsey held Y/N’s shoulders firmly, her voice gentle but steady. “First of all, you never have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Sex isn’t a performance, it’s personal. It’s about intimacy, connection, and trust. Whatever happens is between you and whoever you’re with, and that’s all that matters.

“Second,” she added with a small smile, “it’s not as complicated as people make it seem. Even if it’s awkward or messy at first, that’s okay. You’ll learn together. That’s one of the best parts of being with someone—discovering their little quirks, preferences, kinks and everything inbetween. Trust me, you’ll be fine. And if anyone ever makes you feel less than beautiful in the process? They’re not worth your time.”

Y/N exhaled, feeling a weight lift from her chest. “Oh no, he’s perfect,” she confessed, her voice tinged with a dreamy sigh. “Better than that. He’s... everything.”

Lindsey chuckled, glancing at her watch. “Well, speaking of perfect, it’s time for us to take a well-deserved lunch break.”

“What?” Y/N blinked in surprise as Lindsey grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the door.

Before she could protest further, Lindsey swung open the door to Harry’s office, revealing him seated at his desk in a perfectly pressed suit. Y/N hadn’t seen much of him that morning, and the sight of him made her heart flutter. She wanted nothing more than to cross the room and curl up in his lap.

Harry glanced up, his lips curving into a warm smile as soon as he spotted her.

“We’re taking an early lunch,” Lindsey declared.

Harry raised an eyebrow, checking the clock on his wall. “It’s 11:30. Lunch doesn’t start for another hour.”

Lindsey waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve been working so hard we deserve an extra break.”

Y/N snapped out of her daze just in time to nod in agreement, though the gesture only made Harry’s gaze soften further.

“Is that right, Miss Y/L/N?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. “Mhm,” she mumbled. “We’ve been working very hard.”

Harry chuckled, his gaze flicking back to Lindsey. “Fine. An hour extra, but that’s it. If anyone asks, you’re running errands.”

Lindsey grinned. “Yes, boss. Oh, and we’ll need your credit card.”

Harry scoffed. “Not happening.”

“Worth a shot.” Lindsey shrugged, then headed for the door. Before leaving, she shot them a pointed look. “I’ll grab my coat. No funny business, you two. I’ll be waiting outside.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Harry stood, straightening his jacket before walking over to Y/N. He reached for her hand, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, Harry,” she whispered, her breath catching as he leaned down to kiss her gently.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to go with Lindsey, you know. You could stay here and spend your lunch break with me.”

The suggestion was far too tempting, and Harry’s smile only made it harder to resist.

“She hasn’t even told me where we’re going,” Y/N shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the rapid beat of her heart.

Harry reached down, tangling his fingers with hers. His touch was warm, grounding. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Wherever she’s taking you, make sure you don’t overdo it, okay? We still have plans tonight, remember?”

Y/N’s stomach fluttered. Harry had been teasing her about the surprise date all week. She was excited, but also nervous—especially after his cryptic text telling her to wear something she didn’t mind getting dirty.

Harry kissed her again, but their moment was cut short by a loud knock on the door.

“Hurry it up in there! Time’s ticking!” Lindsey’s muffled voice called through the door.

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of her, and Harry’s lips curved into a soft smile at the sound.

“Here,” he said, pulling his wallet from the inside pocket of his blazer. He slid out a gleaming gold AMEX card and pressed it into her hand.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “O-Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Bambi,” Harry interrupted, his tone firm but affectionate. The nickname made her heart skip. “Take it.”

His commanding presence was enough to make her stop arguing. She looked up at him, cheeks tinged pink, and nodded.

Y/N stared at the card in her hand like it might bite her. “But Harry,” she whispered, glancing up at him with wide eyes, “I don’t even know what to do with this. What if I lose it? What if I spend too much? What if—”

Harry chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her flushed skin. “Bambi, all you need to do is enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

Her lips parted, and she blinked up at him, unsure what to say. “I’ll take good care of it,” she promised in a tiny voice, clutching the card. “And I’ll bring it right back. I promise I won’t spend too much!”

“I know you won’t,” he murmured, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “I trust you.”

Before she could overthink it any further, Harry leaned down and kissed her forehead again, lingering just long enough for her to feel the warmth of him. “Go have fun.”

Her heart did a nervous little flip at the reminder. “O-Okay,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lindsey’s voice interrupted again, sharp but teasing. “Alright, lovebirds, seriously! I’m giving you ten seconds before I come in there and drag her out myself!”

Y/N squeaked and turned to the door. “Coming!” she called, her voice high-pitched and rushed.

Harry smirked, clearly enjoying her flustered state. He stepped back and adjusted his tie, looking every bit the polished professional, but his eyes were still soft as they followed her.

“Be good,” he teased, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink. “I’ll try,” she mumbled, giving him a quick, shy smile before hurrying out of the office.

Outside, Lindsey was waiting with her hands on her hips, an exaggeratedly impatient expression on her face.

“About time,” she said, grabbing Y/N’s hand and tugging her down the hallway. “Now, let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into with that fancy credit card of his.”

Y/N let out a soft giggle, her fingers curling around the card in her hand. She glanced back toward Harry’s office door one last time, her heart still racing. Even though she was nervous about tonight, she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy, too.

Lindsey noticed the dreamy look on Y/N’s face and rolled her eyes with a grin. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Y/N looked away, pressing her lips together as a shy smile spread across her face. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Lindsey laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, let’s make this lunch break worth it.”

. . .

Y/N stood in the small changing room, staring at the pile of delicate lingerie Lindsey had hung on the door hook. Each set was softer and more intricate than the last, made from lace, satin, and ribbons in pastel tones of blue, lavender, mint, and blush. She felt like a clumsy giant in a room of dainty, breakable things.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Y/N called softly through the door.

“You’ve got this,” Lindsey replied encouragingly. “Try the pink one first. It’s so you.”

With trembling hands, Y/N picked up the light blush pink set, the soft lace slipping between her fingers like a whisper. She changed quickly, careful not to look too long in the mirror, and hesitated before stepping out.

“Alright, let me see,” Lindsey said, her voice full of excitement.

Y/N cracked open the door and peeked out timidly. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Promise. Now, come on!”

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped out, crossing her arms over her chest shyly. The pastel pink lace hugged her figure, delicate straps tracing over her shoulders and down her back. Lindsey’s eyes lit up as she took in the sight.

“Oh, you look so cute!” Lindsey grinned. “It’s perfect! Very soft, very sweet. What do you think?”

Y/N glanced at her reflection in the mirror outside the stall, biting her lip. “I don’t know... It feels like... too much? Or maybe not enough?”

Lindsey shook her head, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “It’s not too much, and it’s definitely not too little. It’s elegant and adorable, just like you.”

Y/N flushed and retreated back into the stall to try the next set. The routine continued for several minutes, with Y/N emerging in pastel greens, blues, and creams. Finally, she reached for the last set—a soft taupe-pink shade, almost like the color of cocoa mixed with milk.

When she stepped out in this set, Lindsey gasped softly. “Oh my god.”

Y/N immediately crossed her arms again. “Is it bad? I knew it was too much—”

“No!” Lindsey interrupted, shaking her head vehemently. She stepped closer and took Y/N by the shoulders, turning her toward the mirror. “Look at yourself. You look like a little deer.”

Y/N blinked at her reflection, her brow furrowed. The taupe-pink color complimented her skin tone, and the simple but elegant design made her feel... grown-up, yet still herself.

“I... I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice shaky.

“Hey.” Lindsey crouched slightly to catch Y/N’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. Stunning. And Harry is going to lose his shit when he sees you in this.”

Y/N’s cheeks flamed. “Lindsey!” she squeaked, burying her face in her hands.

Lindsey laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “What? It’s true! Now, I think we’ve found the winner. Let’s go pay before I start crying over how cute you look.”

Y/N nodded shyly, stealing one last glance at herself in the mirror. For the first time, she felt a spark of confidence in her chest. Maybe Harry would love it.

Or, at the very least, she loved it—and that felt just as important.

. . .

Y/N sat comfortably in the passenger seat of Harry’s Porsche, her old t-shirt soft against her skin and her blue jeans slightly worn at the knees. Her baby pink ballet flats rested lightly on the floor, toes tapping absentmindedly as she gazed out the window, trying to decipher where he was taking her.

Harry, effortlessly cozy in his sweater and loose-fitting jeans, kept one hand on the wheel while the other held hers over the console. His black Vans were slightly scuffed, white socks peeking above the edges. At every red light, he lifted her fingers to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against them as if it were second nature.

“Did y’have fun with Lindsey today?” he asked, sparing a glance in her direction.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Y-Yeah, it was… fun.” She tried not to think about the underwear she had bought earlier particularly because she was currently wearing it beneath her very casual clothing.

Harry’s lips quirked up in amusement. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“No, it was!” she insisted, sitting up a little straighter. “It was really nice. I don’t spend a lot of time with other girls, so it felt… different. In a good way.”

His smile softened as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before returning his focus to the road. “Y’know you’re welcome to spend time with Sarah and Alessia too.”

“But they’re your friends,” Y/N frowned. “Wouldn’t you feel like I was taking them away?”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course not. What’s mine is yours, love. You’re my girlfriend, remember?”

Y/N’s lips twitched, a giddy warmth settling in her chest. She let her head fall back against the headrest, a slow smile curling on her lips.

“What?” Harry grinned, flicking his eyes toward her for a second.

“I just like it when you say that,” she admitted.

“What? Girlfriend?” he teased, his dimples appearing as he chuckled.

“Mhm,” she hummed, cheeks heating up. “I can’t believe I’m a girlfriend.”

Harry laughed, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles. “You’re not just a girlfriend, you’re my girlfriend. All mine.”

She liked that label even more.

Later on, the soft crunch of gravel beneath the tires signaled their arrival. Harry pulled into a small stone parking lot in front of what looked like a quaint, cottage-style home. The windows glowed warmly against the dusky sky, lace curtains fluttering slightly from the inside. There was no sign or indication of where they were, just an inviting little house with flower boxes lining the window sills.

Y/N glanced around, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Where are we?”

Harry smirked, already opening his door. “You’ll see.”

Curiosity buzzed in her stomach as she climbed out of the car, the crisp evening air wrapping around her. Harry met her at the front, slipping his hand into hers and leading her toward the wooden door.

Before she could ask any more questions, the door creaked open to reveal an elderly woman with wispy white hair pinned up in a loose bun. She wore a pastel apron dusted with flour and had a kind twinkle in her eye.

“Harry, darling!” she greeted, pulling him into a soft hug before turning to Y/N with an equally warm smile. “And you must be Y/N! Oh, you’re just as lovely as he said.”

Y/N’s brows shot up as she looked between Harry and the woman. “He’s mentioned me?”

“Oh, love, he wouldn’t stop talking about you,” she chuckled, stepping aside to usher them in. The scent of vanilla and butter filled the air, making Y/N’s mouth water. “Come in, come in, we’ve got cakes to decorate!”

Y/N’s jaw dropped slightly as she turned to Harry. “Really?”

Harry grinned, squeezing her hand. “Thought you’d like it.” Y/N let out a delighted squeal as she followed him inside.

The cozy kitchen looked straight out of a storybook—wooden shelves lined with jars of sugar and sprinkles, floral-printed tea towels hanging neatly by the stove, and a large wooden table in the center covered with piping bags, frosting tubs, and trays of undecorated cupcakes.

Y/N hesitated at the doorway, her fingers curling around Harry’s sleeve as she peeked inside. “I’ve always wanted to do a baking class,” she admitted, eyes wide with curiosity.

Harry turned to her with a grin. “I know,”

She furrowed her brows, “How did you find out?”

“You’re brothers told me,” He shrugged.

The elderly woman, who had introduced herself as Margaret, beamed at her. “Don’t worry if you’ve never done this before—I’ll show you everything!”

Y/N’s fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve as she stepped further into the cozy kitchen, taking in the warm scent of vanilla and sugar. She glanced at Harry, still feeling a little surprised that he had gone out of his way to plan something so thoughtful.

Margaret handed them each an apron, and Y/N hesitated before slipping hers over her head. As she struggled to tie the strings behind her back, she felt a familiar presence behind her.

“Here, Bambi,” Harry murmured, gently tugging the ends and tying them into a neat bow.

Y/N swallowed, her fingers curling slightly against the fabric of her apron. “Thank you…” she said softly, peeking up at him.

Harry just hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he reached for his own apron.

Margaret clapped her hands together. “Now, let’s get started! We’ve got a few cakes ready for decorating, and you two can pick whichever frosting colors you like.”

Y/N followed her to the counter, where bowls of pastel-colored buttercream sat beside trays of undecorated cakes. She hovered near the edge, unsure where to start.

Harry, on the other hand, grabbed a piping bag without hesitation. “I used to work at a bakery so don’t be surprised if my cake turns into a masterpiece,” he declared, scooping up a generous amount of frosting.

Y/N watched him for a moment, then turned back to her own cake. She carefully picked up a piping bag but hesitated before squeezing it. “What if I mess it up?” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Margaret overheard and smiled warmly. “There’s no such thing, dear. It’s just cake. If it doesn’t turn out how you want, we’ll eat the evidence.”

Y/N let out a small giggle, feeling a little more at ease. She took a deep breath and pressed down on the piping bag, carefully swirling the frosting onto the cake. Her hands were a little shaky, but as she stepped back, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit proud.

Harry glanced over and tilted his head. “That’s cute,” he said, nodding toward her cake.

Y/N tucked her chin down, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, before turning back to his own. “Almost as good as mine,”

Y/N peeked at his cake and bit her lip to hold back a giggle. His frosting was uneven, the swirls lopsided. She glanced up at him, unsure if she should say anything.

He must have noticed because he smirked. “Go on, laugh.”

She shook her head quickly. “N-No! I—I think it’s lovely.”

Harry chuckled, nudging her lightly. “lovely, huh?”

Y/N felt her face heat up and quickly focused back on her cake, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Before she could react, Harry swiped a bit of icing onto his finger and gently smeared it across her cheek. She gasped, eyes widening in surprise as he leaned in slightly, a playful smirk on his lips.

“I think you’re lovely,” he murmured.

Margaret smiled knowingly. “You two make a lovely pair,” she said as she reached for some sprinkles. “Now, who wants to add the finishing touches?”

Y/N reached for a jar of soft pink sugar pearls, her fingers barely brushing Harry’s as he reached for the same one.

He didn’t move his hand right away, just glanced at her with a small smile. “You take it,” he said softly, his pinkie finger poking her hand. Y/N ducked her head, feeling a flutter in her chest as she carefully took the jar.

With the finishing touches added—Harry’s cake looking as delightfully messy as ever, and Y/N’s decorated with delicate swirls and tiny pearls—they both stepped back, admiring their work.

Margaret beamed at them. “Wonderful, both of you! Now, how about some tea? You’ve earned it.”

Y/N nodded quickly, grateful for something to do other than stand there under Harry’s watchful gaze. She followed Margaret to a cozy table near the window, where a teapot and delicate china cups were already set up. The scent of chamomile and honey filled the air as Margaret poured them each a cup.

Harry stretched out beside Y/N, his long legs brushing hers beneath the table. He didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he wasn’t letting on.

As Y/N stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea, curiosity finally got the better of her. She glanced between Harry and Margaret before speaking up softly. “How do you two know each other?”

Margaret smiled as she set down the teapot. “Oh, I’m an old friend of Harry’s mum. We go way back.” She turned to Harry with a teasing glint in her eye. “She’s actually coming to visit next week for his birthday.”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around her teacup.

Birthday?

Her mind spun. Harry hadn’t mentioned his birthday. Not once. And now she had to meet his mum?

Oh. Oh no.

She must’ve gone silent for too long because Harry’s gaze flickered toward her, his brows furrowing slightly.

Then, under the table, she felt it—his hand, warm and steady, pressing gently against her thigh.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked up at him, wide-eyed.

He didn’t say anything, just gave her a knowing look—one that was both amused and reassuring. His thumb brushed lightly over the fabric of her jeans, a silent gesture that somehow grounded her and made her even more flustered all at once.

“You alright, Bambi?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Y/N swallowed hard and nodded quickly, even though her heart was racing.

Harry’s lips twitched, clearly not believing her. But, mercifully, he didn’t push. He just kept his hand where it was, a steady presence beneath the table.

Y/N took a sip of her tea, hoping it would hide the blush creeping up her neck.

She had two problems now: figuring out what to do for his birthday and somehow surviving meeting his mum without making a complete fool of herself.

And, judging by the knowing smirk on Harry’s lips, he was well aware of both.

. . .

“Thank you for having us,” Y/N said softly, offering Margaret a small smile as they stood by the door.

Margaret waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nonsense, dear. It was lovely having you both.” Then, with a knowing smile, she added, “You’re welcome to come back and do some baking with me anytime, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the offer. She glanced at Harry, who was watching the exchange with amusement, then back at Margaret. “Oh—I’d love to,” she said shyly.

Margaret patted her arm warmly before turning to Harry. “Take care, love. And don’t forget to call your mum.”

Harry groaned playfully. “You’ve been talking to her too much.”

Margaret only laughed, waving them off as they made their way to the car.

Once inside, Y/N fastened her seatbelt and turned to look at Harry, who was adjusting the mirrors. She hesitated for a moment before finally voicing the thoughts swirling in her head.

“You didn’t tell me your mom was coming to see you,” she said, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Or that it was your birthday.”

Harry shot her a side glance, lips twitching slightly. “I didn’t want to panic you.”

She frowned. “About your birthday?”

“I don’t like the attention,” he admitted simply.

That made her pause. She looked at him, watching the way his fingers tapped idly against the steering wheel.

Silence settled between them for a beat before he spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Are you mad?”

The question shocked her. Her brows knitted together. “No, of course not,” she said quickly. Then, softer, “Just… worried.”

Harry turned to her fully now, one arm draped over the steering wheel as he studied her. “Worried?”

“What if your mom doesn’t like me?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softened. “I think she already does.”

Y/N blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re all I talk about when I speak to her these days, Bambi,” he said, his voice warm, sure. “Believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about.”

A small huff left her lips as she sank deeper into her seat, still unsure if that made her feel better or worse.

“Bambiiiiii,” Harry drawled, his tone teasing. “Give me a kiss.”

She almost smiled, shaking her head as she turned toward him to say something—maybe to protest, maybe just to stall—but she never got the chance.

Before she could speak, Harry cupped her entire face in his hands, tilting her chin up as he kissed her.

Y/N melted instantly, her hands hesitating before resting lightly against his chest. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his lips moving against hers with a kind of lazy confidence that made her stomach flip.

He pulled back just enough for their noses to brush, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You taste like frosting,” he murmured against her mouth.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, her fingers curling slightly against his shirt.

Maybe she was still nervous about meeting his mom. Maybe she was still reeling from the fact that his birthday was next week. But right now, in this moment, all she could focus on was him.

“Come on,” Harry’s hand rested on her knee, “Let’s get you home.”

The drive back was quiet, comfortable. The occasional hum of a song on the radio filled the space between them, but neither of them felt the need to talk much. Harry’s hand rested casually on the gear shift, fingers drumming lightly, while Y/N watched the familiar streets pass by through the window.

Before she knew it, they were outside her house. Harry shifted into park and turned toward her with a small smile. “Home safe, Bambi.”

Y/N reached for the door handle but hesitated.

She didn’t want the night to end just yet.

Biting her lip, she turned to face him properly. “Do you… want to come inside?”

Harry blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, “Yeah?”

Y/N nodded, suddenly feeling a little nervous under his gaze. “Yeah.”

His face softened into something warmer, more curious. He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “You sure?”

Y/N swallowed, then nodded again. “I just—” She exhaled, giving a small shrug. “I’m not ready for you to leave yet.”

Harry’s expression changed, something fond flickering in his green eyes before he reached over, fingers brushing her chin briefly.

“Then I won’t,” he murmured.

With that, he shut off the car and stepped out, rounding to meet her at the front steps.

Y/N’s stomach fluttered as she unlocked the door, fully aware of Harry standing just behind her. And as she pushed it open and stepped inside, she couldn’t help but smile when she heard him close the door behind them.

“Everyone’s asleep. We can go upstairs to my room,” she whispered, locking the front door behind them. Slipping off her shoes, she glanced back as Harry did the same, his movements quiet and easy.

Without thinking, she reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his as she led him up the stairs. They tiptoed carefully past her brother’s rooms, the only sound the faint creak of the wooden steps beneath them.

Once inside, she gently shut the door and turned to find Harry standing in the middle of her room, his gaze slowly sweeping over the space.

It was strange seeing him there—so tall, so effortlessly cool—against the soft pink and white of her bedroom. He looked almost out of place, yet somehow, he didn’t.

His eyes landed on the mannequin in the corner, where a partially finished dress hung, delicate ruffles cascading down the fabric.

“Did you make this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity as he stepped closer, taking in the details.

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy. “Yeah… it’s taking a lot longer than I thought it would.”

Harry turned to her, something like awe flickering across his face. “Bambi,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “You should be working with the design team at Pleasing, not stuck behind a desk.”

Her eyes widened, heat creeping up her neck. “Oh, no, no,” she protested quickly, waving a hand. “The desk job is more than enough.”

Harry just hummed, still admiring the dress. “At least give it a think.”

Y/N blinked, a confused smile tugging at her lips. “Wait, are you offering?”

Harry turned to face her, already standing just a step away, the small space of her room almost too close. His lips curled into a teasing grin. “I don’t know… do you want me to?”

Her heart skipped a beat, and before she could answer, Harry intertwined their fingers, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through her. He lowered his head, his lips ghosting over hers, just a breath away.

“I think you’re going to do such great things, Bambi,” he murmured, his voice soft but certain. “You don’t need me for that.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sincerity in his voice melting the walls she had built up around herself. Her chest tightened, and before she could stop herself, she kissed him, her lips pressing against his with a soft urgency.

His hands cupped her cheeks gently, his touch grounding her as she stepped back, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of her bed. They both tumbled onto it in a tangle of limbs, Y/N’s heart thudding loudly against her chest.

His hands moved to her hips, fingers digging into her skin beneath her shirt, pulling her closer. The warmth of his touch made her pulse quicken, and her mind raced, completely overwhelmed by the closeness.

Her thoughts scattered, and she found herself whispering, almost breathless. “Y—you can take it off.”

Harry’s hands stilled, his brows furrowing in confusion. “My shirt, I mean.”

His lips parted slightly, eyes widening as he processed what she’d said. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her heart in her throat, “I-I’m sure,” She replied.

Harry didn’t respond at first, his eyes scanning her face to make sure she truly meant what she said. His fingers tugged on the ends of her shirt and she nodded once more to let him know it was okay and what she wanted.

Harry lifted her shirt, his fingers grazing her skin as he pulled it over her head. The cool air prickled against her newly exposed skin, but the way his gaze darkened sent a different kind of heat through her.

"God," he murmured, voice thick with something unspoken, his eyes scanned the underwear she was wearing. He said nothing at first, Y/N’s nerves growing at his silence. Her first instinct was to put her shirt back on to cover herself up but his fingers wrapped around her wrist, “Are you real?”

Y/N giggled, “I think so,” she poked her tummy and Harry laughed.

“I must have been good at some point in time, I don’t think you’d be here if I weren’t.”

“You are good Harry,” Y/N murmurs.

“For you,” Harry whispers, “I’ll be anything. Anything y’ want, Bambi. I’ll bend and break myself to be whatever you want me to be. I’ve never been one for religion, but I’ve only ever prayed long and hard for someone like you, and now here you are. You’re like holding a piece of Heaven.”

Y/N's breath catches, the weight of his words settling deep within her chest. She reaches up, her fingers brushing against his cheek, tracing the lines of his jaw with a softness that matches her racing heart. "Harry..."

His eyes soften as they meet hers, the intensity never wavering, but there's something tender in his gaze now, something that says he's not just talking about desire, but something deeper, more profound.

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides before she reached for the hem of his shirt. He smirked, eyes locked onto hers as he helped her tug it over his head, his movements fluid, confident. Her eyes rounded at the tattoos that littered his muscular torso. Her hands hesitated over the hard lines of his chest, the warmth of his skin under her fingertips making her pulse stutter.

"Go on," Harry urged, his voice low, teasing. "Touch me."

Her breath hitched, but she obeyed, palms trailing cautiously over his chest, feeling the steady, unshaken beat of his heart. Unlike her own, which was hammering in her ribs. She traced her fingers over a particular tattoo on his left pectoral.

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she noticed the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, the warmth of his body against hers making her pulse quicken. Harry’s eyes softened as he watched her, his lips curling into a smile.

"Relax, love," he murmured, cupping her chin and tilting her face up to his. "S’just me."

And then he kissed her again—deep, sure, in control. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she melted into him, letting him take the lead, letting him guide her through the intensity of it all.

They kissed for a while, Harry’s hands roaming over her skin, slowly learning the contours of her body as though he were memorizing each moment. Y/N melted into him, feeling the heat between them grow, her heart racing, pulse quickening under his touch.

Y/N pulled away for a brief second to catch his breath, his eyes were hazy, his lips were pinker than usual and lazy grin lingered on his lips. “What are y’ thinking about Bambi?”

She wondered how he could already read her so well. Her mind had been drifting the entire evening to this very moment, and now she was in it, her mouth dry and she couldn’t seem to conjure up the words. “H-Harry I-” The words were on the tip of her tongue, her mind drifting to a reddit article she read three days prior with tips on this exact situation.

Harry waited patiently for her to continue, letting her have her space to gain the confidence to ask whatever she needed to. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the hesitation in her voice, and he respected it, not rushing her, not pushing for anything.

She sighed, her words barely above a whisper, "I bought this bra today."

Harry nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "It’s very pretty, Bambi. So pretty on you." His lips brushed the side of her neck, a gentle, tender gesture meant to reassure her.

But Y/N could feel the weight of her own thoughts pressing on her chest. "B-but there’s a reason I bought it," she continued, her voice shaky.

Harry paused, his lips stilling against her skin as he pulled back slightly to look at her, his gaze full of warmth and curiosity. “What do you mean?”

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she gathered the courage to speak. "I... I want to try things with you."

Harry’s expression softened, the shock in his eyes mixing with a deeper understanding. He gave her a moment to continue, sensing that she wasn’t finished.

"I want you to do stuff with me." She felt her cheeks flush, but she held his gaze, refusing to look away.

He stayed silent for a beat, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his voice calm but filled with concern. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for his, needing his touch to ground her. “I want to touch you.” She whispered in his ear, her cheeks scorching.

Harry choked, “Bambi,” He could feel himself hardening in his trousers.

She quickly continued, her voice a little shaky. “But y—you have to help me because… reading things online make it hard to understand, and those articles about… it’s confusing.”

Harry took her hands in his, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles as he looked into her eyes, his expression filled with warmth. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured her gently. “We’ll go slow. No pressure. I’ll help you, I promise. What is it you had in mind, Bambi?”

“I’m too embarrassed to say it out loud,” She admitted, breezing past the whole ‘pretending to be confident’ moment she had pictured in her head. “I feel embarrassed not knowing anything.”

Harry’s gaze softened, and Y/N wasn’t sure why it comforted her. He wasn’t showing sympathy, frustration, or excitement—his expression was unreadable, almost effortless. It was as if her uncertainty didn’t matter to him, as if knowing nothing made no difference at all. Being with her was enough, and whatever came with it was just a bonus.

“How about I’ll help you first,” He gently guided her onto his lap, his hands steady on her waist as he settled her against him. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” His voice was soft, reassuring, but there was an edge of something deeper in his tone—something patient yet undeniably wanting.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she adjusted herself, feeling the warmth of his body beneath her. His hands, warm and firm, traced slow circles on her hips, grounding her. “You don’t have to rush,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “This is just us. You and me.”

She exhaled shakily, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she let herself relax against him. The feeling was new, overwhelming but not in a bad way. Safe. Warm. Intimate in a way she hadn’t expected.

Harry’s fingers trailed up her spine, his touch featherlight but deliberate. “Tell me what feels good, Bambi,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Y/N swallowed, her body tingling at his words. “O-okay,” she breathed, trusting him completely.

Y/N shuddered as Harry’s hands splayed on her thighs, his fingers playfully playing with the hook of her underwear that rested on her hips. His thumb made circles on her skin, goosebumps rising where he traced, ‘Is this okay?” He whispered, eyes looking into hers.

She nodded. His fingers sliding down further until they cupped her between her legs, “What about this?”

She gaped, “Yes Harry,”

“M’kay,” Warm breath fanned down her neck.

Beneath her, Y/N could feel Harry’s hardening length. Her eyes widened, her breath hitching as she shifted slightly, the sensation unfamiliar yet thrilling. Harry’s grip on her hips tightened just a fraction, his jaw clenching as he exhaled through his nose.

“You feel that, Bambi?” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

She nodded, her hands clutching his shoulders, her heart hammering against her ribs. “It’s… um, it’s big,” she admitted shyly, her cheeks burning.

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked.

“Completely,” Y/N whispered with a nod. Harry didn’t hesitate, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before his hand drifted lower.

With careful precision, he hooked his fingers around the fabric of her underwear, tugging it aside. She wondered if he could feel the razor bumps from where she had tried to shave. If he did he didn’t say anything, just whispered, “Y’ the most perfect girl. How are you real?” She wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or himself.

The moment his fingers brushed past her folds, searching for her clit, she stiffened, a sharp inhale catching in her throat. Letting out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping his shoulders as a wave of unfamiliar yet intoxicating pleasure coursed through her. Harry watched her closely, his eyes dark with focus, making sure she was comfortable.

“Relax, Bambi,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple as his fingers moved with deliberate care.

Y/N’s breath hitched as he found the sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch gentle yet firm. A soft whimper escaped her lips, and she instinctively pressed closer to him, seeking more.

“That’s it,” Harry murmured, his free hand stroking her thigh reassuringly. “You’re doing so good for me.”

She felt heat pool in her stomach, her body responding in ways she never imagined. “Harry,” she whimpered, barely recognizing her own voice.

His lips curled into a smirk as he pressed a kiss just below her ear. “I’ve got you, love,” he promised, his fingers working her with steady, patient movements. “You’re truly quite perfect.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words, but then her brows furrowed as a thought crept into her mind—she wanted to do something for Harry, too. This wasn’t meant to be just about her.

But as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements, her thoughts blurred into nothingness. Her body responded instinctively, her hips rutting against his hand when he brushed a particularly sensitive spot.

Harry groaned, the sound deep and raw, sending a fresh wave of heat through her. The effect it had on her was instant—she wanted to hear it again. So she did it once more, rolling her hips into his touch.

“Y’ gonna kill me, Bambi,” he rasped, his grip on her tightening as he fought to keep control.

Harry let out a strained chuckle, his fingers tightening around her hips as he steadied her movements. His gaze was heavy-lidded, filled with something dark and reverent as he watched her.

“So damn sweet,” he murmured, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin. “All wide-eyed and trembling… just like a little deer.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her breath catching at his words. His comparison made her feel small, delicate—like something precious in his hands.

Harry’s breath grew heavier, his grip on her hips firm as he guided her movements, letting her find what felt good. Y/N was completely lost in the sensation—his fingers working her with precise, devastating strokes, his voice low and coaxing as he whispered sweet praises in her ear.

“That’s it, Bambi,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. “Let yourself feel it.”

Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the pleasure building inside her. She clung to him, fingers pulling on the curls at the nape of his neck, his head falling back as she rocked against his hand, chasing the high she had never quite reached before.

Harry was struggling himself, his jaw clenched, his breathing ragged as her movements sent jolts of pleasure straight through him. He was achingly hard beneath her, the friction almost too much, especially when she rolled her hips just right.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers faltering for a moment before he doubled down, determined to push her over the edge first. “You feel so good, love—so perfect.”

His words sent her spiraling. A broken moan slipped past her lips as the tension inside her snapped, pleasure crashing over her in waves. Her body tensed, then melted, a shuddering mess in his arms as she came undone.

The sight of her—the way she trembled, the breathy whimpers falling from her lips—was Harry’s undoing. With a deep, guttural groan, he buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering as he followed right after her, lost in his own release.

For a moment, neither of them moved, both caught in the aftershocks of pleasure, their breaths mingling as they clung to each other. Y/N felt boneless, her head resting against his shoulder, her heart still hammering in her chest.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Harry,” Y/N confessed, her voice soft in the quiet light of her room. It was the most honest thing she had ever said, the most vulnerable she had ever allowed herself to be.

Harry’s eyes shone with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe it was love, maybe it was more but she couldn’t quite figure out what meant more than love. Unless what she was feeling was exactly that- something more- because when she thought about loving Harry, the word seemed much too small. She wanted to be the same person, wanted to melt into his skin and never find where she ended and he began.

His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns on her back as he held her, grounding her in the moment. “Maybe it’s your first orgasm talking.” He chuckled and she playfully nudged him before laughing with him.

As her eyes fluttered shut, inhaling the scent of him—warm, familiar, safe, she heard him whisper, “I think I’m two steps ahead of you Bambi.” and her heart pounded against her chest.

Maybe love wasn’t a big enough word for what she felt, but whatever it was, it belonged to him. And she had a feeling it always would.

2K notes · View notes

finelinefae · 6 months ago

Text

this is so so so so kind !! wow !!! thank YOU for taking the time to read 💘 I'm so glad you enjoyed it 🥹

the regretful man

part 2 of the other woman

synopsis: harry is the regretful man who just needs to be loved

word count: 4.9k

contains: angst, smut?? if u could even call it that? (p in v, one night stand), smoking, mentions of alcohol

a/n: from me to you! happy new year !

. . .

Harry stood at the end of the aisle as people gathered to stand in the pews of the small church. Quiet chatter fell upon the families as they sat on opposite sides, eagerly awaiting for the ceremony to begin. He had double-checked the pockets of his suit to ensure he had everything with him to go perfectly.

The best man nodded his head at the officiate who raised his hand and asked for everybody to stand. Harry got into position as the piano began to play a gentle melody and the doors to the church opened.

In walked the bride with her arm looped with her father’s. Harry turned to face them both, capturing the sight of the families whose eyes were shining with tears and proud smiles. He held the camera to his eye and snapped a few shots of the bride before turning towards the groom who no longer looked nervous but relieved at the site of the woman he was going to marry.

Harry had lost count of the number of weddings he had photographed since leaving University ten years ago. He was thirty one now and over the years he had found himself enthralled in the world of wedding photography after setting up his own studio.

It wasn’t the career he had imagined for himself when he was an art student all those years ago. He had all these plans to be much bigger, more creative and artistically free, but fear became the better of him and he opted for the safer route - the one that kept a roof over his head.

As much as Harry’s job made other people happy, he couldn’t seem to find that happiness in himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt proud or fulfilled by the photographs he had taken. They’d become much too formulaic, people hired him because they liked his style and wanted it for themselves and he was beginning to grow tired of it.

After every wedding he promised himself he would move on to something new whatever that meant. Maybe he’d travel and start a blog or try and get into the fashion industry. Yet after every wedding, he’d find himself trapped in another and then another, until his ambitions of achieving something new were nothing but tiny dots in the distance.

Maybe this was where he was meant to be.

Taking pictures of love when the irony was he had never felt true love himself.

He sighed when the picture he took of the exchanging of the rings turned out blurry, quickly snapping a lazy shot once more to Photoshop later.

. . .

Although Harry had slowly fallen out of love with his passion for photography, there was no denying that the perks of an open bar were high on the list of benefits he received in his line of work.

The reception was loud and crowded, more people had arrived and filled up the marquet that was decorated with fairylights and a dance floor in the middle. Harry was a frequent visitor to the bar where they were serving wedding-themed cocktails that he had tested each one for himself.

His camera hung heavily around his neck. Occasionally, he would peek through the viewfinder to observe people and guess what they were up to—a game he enjoyed when the reception got too rowdy. If the mood struck him, he often didn't mind going home with someone or spending the night in their hotel room nearby.

Harry hadn’t been in a committed relationship for longer than a year. His longest standing girlfriend was his most recent ex who left him to move to Thailand with a group of people she had met. He wondered if it was his fault that people wouldn’t stay. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

He wasn’t even sure if he had been in love or what it was supposed to feel like. He had been told by most people that love was a craving, a longing to have a certain somebody close by even if it was just to be in their proximity. When people would ask him if he had ever felt that way he’d always say no but then a unsettling feeling weighed heavy on the back of his mind and memories of a certain someone would appear unwarranted.

His eyes roamed the room until they settled on one of the bridesmaids who had been flirting with him ever since he photographed them getting ready that morning. She was stunning, with long legs and flowing blonde hair. May as well, Harry thought, as he made his way toward her, watching as her throat bobbed and she flattened her hair when she caught him sifting through the crowd towards her.

“Hey,” Harry spoke, his voice coming out low.

“Hi,” She replied, shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“M Harry,” He introduced.

“I’m-”

“Lauren, I got you a coke but I can’t remember which one has vodka in it,” A voice appeared and a person holding two cokes in his hand came up to them.

“Ollie,” Lauren blushed taking one of the glasses, “You know I can’t drink.”

“I know,” Ollie shrugged, “Let me try them both and I’ll tell you which one is yours.”

Harry frowned, “Why can’t you drink?” He hoped it wasn’t for the reason he was thinking otherwise he’d have to think up a new escape plan.

“Oh I’m a model,” Lauren replied, “I can’t drink when I’m working.”

“This one’s yours,” Ollie handed her the coke with ice and a lemon floating inside it.

“Are you sure?” Lauren double checked before taking a sip and realising he was telling the truth.

Ollie glanced at Harry, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open. “Harry?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “Do we know each other?”

Ollie nodded, “We went to University together, you came to my birthday party that one time remember?”

Harry froze. The muscles in his body tensed as fragments of memories he had spent a long time trying to forget began to resurface. It was a deep wound that hadn’t ever had a chance to heal and seeing Ollie standing in front of him after years of never seeing anyone from his uni days had opened the old wound up again.

“Of course,” Harry coughed, discomfort prickling his skin. He watched as Ollie’s eyes darted around the room, as if searching for someone. Seizing the moment, Harry quickly turned to Lauren. “I better get going.”

Lauren frowned, disheartened by his words. “Already? Don’t you want to stay and have a drink?”

Harry shook his head. “I think the bride’s parents are still waiting for their picture to be taken.” It was a lie, but it gave him the escape he needed. He made a swift exit before Ollie could divert his attention back to him.

Outside the tent, Harry exhaled, feeling the fresh, open air on his face. He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer, pulled out a cigarette, and cupped the end to light it. Taking a few drags, he shut his eyes, letting the smoke and the cool evening air calm his nerves.

The flicker of the lighter's flame had drawn a brief, warm glow on his face. As he leaned against a brick wall, Harry's thoughts raced back to the encounter with Ollie. The unease hadn't left him; it gnawed at the edges of his mind.

He inhaled deeply, savouring the nicotine rush, and then exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate into the night.

Footsteps bristled through the grass as someone walked beside him, “Mind if I use your lighter?”

Harry froze, breath caught in his chest. The voice resonated with a haunting familiarity, like a whisper carried through the corridors of time. It stirred something deep within him, a forgotten tremor of emotion that had long been buried. For the first time in years, his heart stirred—a hesitant, stuttering beat, as if waking from a long slumber at the sound of someone in a past life he had tried to let go of.

A part of him recoiled, resisting the urge to meet the eyes he had spent so many years trying to erase from memory. But a deeper, more insistent part of him ached for revival, for the spark that only those eyes could ignite. Slowly, his head turned and he found himself captured in her gaze. Time fractured, spilling moments both painful and precious into the present. The world around him fell away, reduced to the space between them. In those eyes, he hoped to see the way she used to look at him - like he was actually worth something but there was nothing of the sort. Whatever she was feeling, she had learnt to shield. The ache in his chest tightened, raw and overwhelming.

She wore a black, off-the-shoulder dress that clung to her figure, His gaze lingered on her collarbones, sharp and delicate, and memories surged back with startling clarity. He recalled the warmth of her skin under his lips, the way she shivered as he traced tender kisses along her chest. The memory was so vivid it burned.

“Y-You smoke?” were the first words he spoke. Not hello, not how are you? Not how have you been? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you okay? I miss you—do you have a boyfriend?

“Not really,” She shrugs, “I just like the smell.”

The silence was palpable. Years of not knowing each other meant Harry had no clue how to start a conversation. His suave and charisma that he used with all the women he encountered had left him, she had rattled his bones, awoken the sleeping soul within his body. How was he meant to begin a conversation with a woman who had the power to do that to him?

“How have you been?” She asked.

He was startled by the question, it was unexpected and he wondered if she really cared. After all, the way he had left her in the bathroom at the birthday party had been his biggest regret. He could still remember the heartbreak on her face as he left her.

She scoffs, “I loved you once before Harry, do you honestly think I wouldn’t at least ask you how you were?”

He didn’t think that, he actually thought she wouldn’t remember him at all. He was a shitty person but there was nothing new about that.

“I’m okay,” He said, unconvincing. “I feel slightly unprepared. I wasn’t expecting to see you here or ever.”

“Do you need to be prepared to speak to me?” Y/N seemed to find that amusing, the slight tilt of her head and the hint of a smirk made his heart skip.

“Never,” He whispered. He never had to be prepared to speak to her because he was entirely himself whenever he was around her.

“I saw you at the wedding. Congratulations on the business by the way.”

“Yeah thanks.” He said, “It’s been good. Busy. You know how it is. How about you?”

“I’m an art teacher at a high school.” Harry nodded catching the look of pride on her face. Flashbacks of being in the same class as her and watching her paint. Despite having slept together and seeing her naked, he had never seen her more vulnerable than when she was painting. “It’s not a lot but I love it.”

“That’s what matters right?” Harry said, feeling like a hypocrite when his life was full of things he did just because he had to.

“It’s definitely a change from my university days,” she said with a chuckle, tucking her hair behind her ear. “God, I’m actually embarrassed thinking back. I was a train wreck.”

“I didn’t think so,” Harry blurted out, too quickly, his voice tripping over itself. “I—I mean—”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk creeping back, though this time it was softer, almost fond. “Really? You were around for most of my breakdowns. I actually feel like I should apologise.”

“Don’t,” Harry said firmly, meeting her eyes. “You don’t need to apologise for anything.”

Her expression softened, the teasing edge giving way to something quieter. “Are you staying at the hotel next door?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, shifting slightly. “Third floor.”

“We’re on the first,” she said casually, though Harry caught the faintest pause in her tone. “It was the last room they had available.”

He stilled.

We.

His mind tripped over the word, echoing it back to him louder and louder. We. We. There was a we?

Of course there was. How could there not be? She was stunning, even more so now than when they were younger. Her skin seemed to glow, her cheeks were fuller, her eyes brighter. She looked healthy. Happy. And the thought of someone else seeing her like this—touching her, laughing with her the way he used to—made his chest feel tight, like something inside him was splintering.

“Ollie and I had to go halves,” she said, breaking through his spiralling thoughts. “He actually sewed this dress we found at a thrift store, and I bedazzled the flower on his suit.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped before he could stop himself, the tension ebbing away like a tide receding. He hoped to God she didn’t notice the relief that must’ve been plain on his face when she mentioned Ollie. Not a boyfriend. Not a lover. Just Ollie.

“It’s good to see you two are still friends,” Harry spoke.

“What about you? Are you here with anyone?” He noticed the way her collarbones tensed like she was holding her breath as she waited for his reply.

“No,” He confessed, “I’m alone.” He said, the word carrying more than she had asked for.

The air was heavy and quiet, the faint glow of the cigarette casting soft shadows as the smoke curled lazily around them. Y/N took one last drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground near his feet, her movements sharp and deliberate. When she turned to face him, her tear-streaked face caught him off guard.

“I thought I would hate seeing you,” she said, her voice breaking.

Harry stood frozen, words sticking in his throat.

“But suddenly…” she continued, her voice trembling as fresh tears fell, “I feel like I’m twenty years old again. And you were... really mean to me, Harry.”

His chest tightened at her words, at the raw vulnerability in her tone. His eyes softened as he stepped closer. “I know,” he murmured, his voice low and heavy with regret. “Hey, I know.”

Her shoulders shook, the sobs overtaking her, and without hesitation, Harry pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, as though holding her might somehow take away the weight of all the pain he had caused.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed his cheek against her hair. His own eyes burned, the threat of tears rising to the surface. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but now it felt inevitable. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—not the way I did. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t respond, but her grip on his shirt tightened as her tears soaked through the fabric. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. He just held her, letting her cry, letting her feel whatever she needed to feel.

He thought to himself if there would ever come a day where he wouldn’t be the cause of her pain.

Eventually, her sobs quieted, leaving only the sound of her steadying breaths and the faint rustle of the wind around them. Y/N pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes red-rimmed. Her fingers stayed curled in his shirt.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she said with a shaky laugh, brushing at her cheeks. “It’s been so long, and I told myself I was over it. Over you.”

Harry’s hands stayed on her waist, his touch firm but gentle. “You don’t have to explain,” he murmured. “I get it.”

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “No, you don’t. You don’t get how much it hurt, Harry. You have no idea what it feels like having the one person you loved leave you.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firm now, his eyes searching hers. “I do, Y/N. And I hate myself for it. Every single day, I hate myself for it.”

Her breath hitched at the raw honesty in his tone, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them charged and electric. She wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, their faces were inches apart. Her eyes flicked to his lips, and he caught the movement, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice trembling but insistent. “Don’t say anything.”

And then she kissed him.

It was sudden and messy, her lips crashing against his with a desperation that mirrored everything she was feeling. Harry didn’t hesitate, his arms tightening around her as he kissed her back just as fervently. The years of distance, the pain, the anger—all of it seemed to melt away in the heat of the moment. His hand came up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear as his lips moved with hers.

She let out a soft, broken sound, her hands gripping his shirt as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into it—his regret, his longing, his love.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Her eyes fluttered open, searching his face, and he could see the conflict written across her features.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither do I,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Let’s go to your room,” She whispered.

“A-are you sure?” He furrowed his brows.

“One night,” She said, “Just one night.”

Harry searched her eyes, his breath catching in his throat. He saw the resolve there, mixed with a vulnerability that mirrored his own. For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of what this meant pressing down on him.

But then she nodded, as if to reassure him, and he found himself nodding back. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his heart was pounding like a drum. “Okay.”

She took his hand, her grip firm but trembling slightly, and he let her lead him through the dimly lit courtyard toward the hotel. The air between them buzzed with an unspoken tension, neither of them saying a word as they walked, their footsteps echoing softly on the pavement.

He led her to the elevator, the soft chime of the doors opening breaking the silence. They stepped in, the small space suddenly feeling suffocating as the weight of what they were about to do settled over them. Harry’s thumb brushed against her hand absentmindedly, grounding himself in the contact.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Harry guided her down the hallway, stopping in front of his room. His hands shook slightly as he pulled the key card from his pocket and slid it into the slot. The door clicked open, and he stepped aside to let her in first.

She walked in, pausing in the middle of the room, her arms crossed loosely as she took it all in. The space was small and unremarkable, a standard hotel room, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Harry closed the door behind him, turning to face her. “Y/N,” he began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“One night, Harry,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of determination and fragility. “Just one night. No promises, no expectations. Just... this.”

He swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he nodded. “Just this,” he echoed, stepping closer.

She met him halfway, her hands reaching up to cup his face as their lips met again, this time slower, more deliberate. There was no rush now, no frantic desperation—just the quiet intensity of two people trying to find something they’d lost.

His hands settled on her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. Every touch felt charged, every movement intended, as if they were trying to memorise each other all over again.

Harry pulled back just enough to search her eyes, his thumb brushing against her cheek, as if grounding himself in the moment. “Are you sure?” he asked one last time, his voice rough and unsteady.

Her answer wasn’t in words but in action—swift, certain, and unrelenting. She hooked her hands behind his neck and pulled him down into another kiss. It was messy, all-consuming, the kind of kiss that left no room for hesitation. Their teeth bumped, tongues tangling in a way that was almost desperate, as though both of them were trying to erase years of unspoken longing.

Harry’s hands found the back of her thighs, gripping firmly as he lifted her effortlessly. She gasped into his mouth but didn’t break the kiss, her arms tightening around his shoulders as he carried her toward the bed. The soft thud of her back meeting the mattress sent a jolt through him, his breath hitching as he hovered over her.

Her hands were already tugging at the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing against his warm skin as she pulled it upward. He shifted, breaking the kiss just long enough to help her remove it, the fabric landing somewhere on the floor.

Harry’s hand slid to her shoulder, his fingers trailing along the strap of her dress. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to hers for silent permission. She gave him a small nod, and he pushed the strap down slowly, his fingertips grazing her bare skin and leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

As her dress began to fall away, her hands roamed over his chest, her nails scraping lightly against his skin. His breath hitched, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to her collarbone, then lower, his movements deliberate but unhurried.

His hand travelled up her thigh, his fingertips brushing against her soft skin, sending shivers through her. He moved with a reverence that made her heart ache—a mix of tenderness and hunger that felt like it might undo her entirely.

His hand slipped lower, finding the edge of her underwear. Gently, he hooked his fingers into the delicate fabric, sliding it down her legs in one fluid motion. He paused, his touch lingering just enough to let her know he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t taking anything for granted. His eyes found hers again, and the unspoken connection between them felt like it might swallow them both whole.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely audible but thick with meaning, before leaning in to kiss her again, his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/N’s eyes burned with emotion, her chest tightening as she watched him. It had been so long since someone had looked at her the way Harry did, with a mix of tenderness and hunger that made her feel like the only person in the world. She knew he hadn’t always loved her—not the way she’d wanted him to—but in moments like this, she let herself believe he had.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his messy curls, his movements slow and deliberate. The soft clink of his belt buckle echoed in the room as he undid it, placing it aside before reaching into the bedside table for a condom.

Y/N moved closer, her chest pressing warmly against his back. Her lips found his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there, lingering just long enough to make him pause. She felt him still under her touch, his breathing deepening as he tore open the foil.

“Remember when I did that for you?” she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel the small smile spreading across his lips.

He chuckled softly, a low sound that made her heart ache. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough with fondness and something heavier. He turned just enough to kiss the corner of her mouth,

Harry shifted, turning fully to face her, capturing her lips in a full, unhurried kiss. His hands moved to her waist, guiding her back onto the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress. For a moment, he just looked at her—her hair splayed out like a halo on the pillow, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss, her chest rising and falling as she pushed her legs apart for him, ready and waiting, like she always did whenever they had sex. Spreading herself open to him.

His cock slid into her, her eyes squeezing shut, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. He could feel every inch of her around him, all of his senses were overwhelmed by her. They were like two pieces of the same puzzle coming together as he pushed himself all the way inside of her.

Y/N released a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering open, and Harry couldn’t look away. Her gaze sparkled in the soft yellow glow of the hotel room light, and when she reached up to push his curls back and cup his cheek, he leaned into her touch like a man starved. A tear slipped from his eye, unbidden, and she brushed it away with her thumb.

He began to move, slow and deliberate, his hips rolling with a teasing gentleness that made her lips part. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted to stay inside of her forever. He wanted to feel every piece of her forever.

She writhed beneath him, whimpering and whining and begging for more of him. He would give it all to her, everything she asked of him he would give it all. “Harry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I don’t want to stop,” he murmured into her ear, his voice raw and honest. His chest tightened with the weight of the moment, of the years between them, of the undeniable connection they still shared.

“Then don’t,” she replied, her breath hitching as she pulled him closer. “Don’t stop.”

. . .

They lay down flat on their back looking up at the ceiling, sated and empty. Her head was on his chest as he smoked a cigarette. The smell bought them both back to the times he would smoke whenever they had sex.

"When you walk away tomorrow," she murmured, her voice soft but laced with a hint of vulnerability, "you walk away with a piece of me."

Harry paused, the cigarette resting between his fingers as he turned his gaze toward her. His chest tightened at her words, an ache that had nothing to do with the smoke still curling in the air. "I feel like I’ve been walking with you for much longer than you think," he replied quietly.

She smiled at that but inside he was dying.

. . .

A year later, Harry stood in the soft glow of a local art gallery. His photographs adorned the walls, strangers moving among them with quiet murmurs of appreciation. The evening had been surreal—people lingered, commented, and even bought pieces he’d always thought too personal to share.

As the closing hour approached, Harry found himself alone with one particular photograph. It was his favourite, though he’d never admitted that aloud. A pair of beautiful eyes that he had spent a small chunk of his youth watching the world through. The gallery was quieter now, and the chatter of earlier felt like a distant echo. He stared at the image, letting his thoughts dissolve into it.

The click of heels against the polished floor shattered the stillness. He felt the presence beside him before he turned.

“That’s the ugliest piece of shit I’ve ever seen,” a voice said, low and familiar.

His heart skipped, his breath catching in his throat.

“Yeah?” His lips twitched, caught between amusement and disbelief.

“I love it.”

“You do?”

“I adore it.”

“Good.”

He finally turned his head, but the space beside him was empty. He froze, scanning the room, his pulse hammering in his ears. For a moment, he swore he caught the faint smell of paint and lavender in the air. His head spun in search of them only to find a man standing alone in the room, “Excuse me,” Harry approached, “Did you see a woman walk in?”

The stranger shook his head and turned back to the photos without another word.

Harry’s shoulders sagged under the weight of disappointment. With a quiet sigh, he reached into his suit jacket for his phone to call a taxi. It was the same suit he always wore for work—every wedding, every shoot. The fabric was worn at the elbows, but he didn’t have the time or effort to go out and buy a new one.

As he pulled the phone free, something slipped from the pocket and fluttered to the floor.

A slip of paper.

Harry blinked, crouching to pick it up. His breath caught as his eyes landed on the words scrawled across it in hurried, looping handwriting: A piece of me.

He flipped it over. A phone number stared back at him.

Harry’s heart raced, each beat echoing in his ears. His hands trembled as he entered the phone number into his phone. He put the number into his phone and typed out the only response he had been desperate to give her in answer to the plea that had haunted him for years.

I love you.

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