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Venom & Honey

Where Harry, a serial killer, believes he’s found someone exactly like him.

Content warnings: mentions of murder, blood, knives, cutting, and cursing.

Word count: 9.7k

Been working on this for a while and can’t believe it’s finally coming out 🥹

The first time Harry sees her, she's at the bar's far end, tucked into a corner where people vanish. Not literally—Harry knows what vanishing looks like—but in that subtle way quiet people fade when the world ignores them.

She sips wine, fingers curled around the stem, eyes down. Soft. Out of place. She doesn't fit in this town, in this bar reeking of whiskey and salt air.

Yet, there she is.

Something draws him. Maybe it's how she shifts when someone passes, shoulders tensing before relaxing. Maybe it's her parted lips, as if she's about to speak but reconsiders.

She's a doe—unsure, wide-eyed, skittish.

Harry likes that.

He waits, watching her drink, noting how she ignores her phone, waits for no one. Alone. That's key. He can take his time.

Minutes pass. He leaves his stool, approaching. Not rushed. Not eager. Effortless, as if he's just noticed her.

"Hope you don't mind," he says, sliding beside her, smiling. "Bar's crowded tonight."

She blinks, startled. Up close, she's prettier. There's a softness, an innocence most lose in childhood. He wants to touch her hair, see if she shivers.

"Oh—no, I don't mind," she stammers. "I wasn't—um, I wasn't saving the seat."

He smiles. She's nervous, unsure. New to this.

Perfect.

"Good," he murmurs, tapping his glass. "You local?"

She shakes her head. "Visiting."

"Yeah?" He studies her. "Family here, or passing through?"

Something flickers across her face. Unreadable. She tucks her hair back, smiling politely.

"Just... needed new scenery."

Interesting.

People have reasons for coming here. This town isn't a tourist spot—unless you know where to look.

"Funny," he muses, his gaze lingering. "People come here running from something... or looking for something."

She laughs softly. "Maybe I'm taking a break from real life."

He smirks. "How's that going?"

She shrugs, looking down. "Still figuring that out."

Harry watches her. She's intriguing. Not just sweet, not just out of place—but deliberate.

She came for a reason.

She's waiting for something.

And Harry?

He's never been patient.

Harry lets the silence settle between them, watching the way she tucks her chin, fingers wrapped around the stem of her wine glass like she's holding on to something fragile. She doesn't fidget, doesn't reach for her phone, doesn't try to fill the quiet with unnecessary conversation. That's uncommon. Most people scramble to keep up, afraid of pauses, afraid of what they might reveal in them.

But she lets the moment stretch, like she's at ease in the space between words.

That makes him want to unravel her even more.

"You don't seem like the type," he says finally, watching her over the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip.

She blinks up at him, confused. "The type?"

"To drink alone," he clarifies, tilting his head just slightly. "To slip into a place like this, quiet as a secret, and keep to yourself."

A soft laugh escapes her, and she ducks her head, almost shy. "I suppose it does feel a little out of character."

He raises a brow. "Does it?"

She hesitates, then nods, swirling her wine. "I'm usually not very… spontaneous. I like plans. I like knowing what's next."

Ah. That explains it.

She isn't reckless. Not the type to chase adrenaline, not the type to throw herself into the unknown. She's cautious.

He wonders what made her break the pattern.

"Nothing wrong with a little spontaneity," he murmurs, his voice dipping lower, just enough to make the words feel weightier. "You might surprise yourself."

She looks up then, really looks at him, her eyes searching his face like she's trying to decipher what kind of man he is. If he's harmless. If he's safe.

He smiles, slow and easy. He knows what she'll see.

Harry Styles, the charming stranger. The kind of man people trust without thinking, the kind they never see coming.

A little voice in the back of his mind hums with interest.

She's smart. Cautious. But she's still sitting here, still talking to him.

That means there's something underneath. A part of her that wants to step outside the lines she's drawn for herself.

And that?

That makes things much more entertaining.

"What about you?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. "Are you the spontaneous type?"

Harry chuckles, dragging his finger along the rim of his glass. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice all smooth amusement. "You have no idea."

Her lips part just slightly, as if she's about to say something else, but before she can, the bartender stops by to clear away empty glasses, giving Harry a knowing look.

"Another one for you?" she asks, wiping the counter down.

He shakes his head, then gestures toward the girl beside him. "She can have one, if she wants."

Y/N blinks, caught off guard. "Oh—I—"

"Let me guess," Harry interrupts, leaning in just slightly, lowering his voice like it's just for her. "You feel bad letting someone buy you a drink."

She exhales a soft laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Something like that."

Harry grins. "Consider it part of the whole 'stepping out of your comfort zone' thing."

She hesitates for only a second before relenting, giving the bartender a small nod.

"Alright," she says. "Just this once."

His smirk lingers.

She's interesting. A little cautious, a little hesitant, but… something about her feels like a challenge.

The bartender gently slid another glass of wine towards her.

Harry studied her, watching her throat move as she swallowed, her hands motionless when most fidgeted. She excelled at this. Not just playing coy. The practiced kind.

"So, just a fresh start, then?" he asked, feigning casualness.

She nodded. "Something like that."

He dragged his fingers over the condensation on his glass. "Most people pick somewhere exciting for that. A city. A place with distractions."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "I wanted somewhere quiet."

"Quiet," he echoed, rolling the word on his tongue. "Yeah, I s'pose this place qualifies."

Silence fell between them. The bar hummed—low conversations, clinking glasses, bursts of laughter. Yet in this moment, they existed in isolation.

She watched him. Carefully. Weighing her choices.

His lips curled into a grin.

"Y'know," he mused, his voice dipping, "I think I like this version of you."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"This," he gestured toward her. "The part of you that says, 'why not' instead of 'should I?'"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't usually let strangers psychoanalyze me."

He smirked. "I'm not just any stranger, though. I bought you a drink, remember?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but warmth crept into her expression. Her guard lowered, imperceptibly.

And that's the thing about people like her. They miss the moment it happens.

"Alright," she said, shifting in her seat. "What about you?"

Harry raised a brow. "What about me?"

She tilted her head, studying him. "What's your reason for being here?"

For the first time, she pressed him.

He savored that.

Harry sipped his drink, then set it down, giving her a small, knowing smile.

"Oh, love," he murmured, watching her lean in unconsciously.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Y/N's lips parted. Curiosity sparked in her eyes. She didn't lean away. That's the thing—she should. He'd given her an easy out, an excuse to laugh it off, to steer the conversation somewhere lighter. But she didn't take it.

She lifted her glass, studying him over the rim before sipping. "Try me."

Harry grinned. Slow. Deliberate. All teeth and amusement.

"Alright," he said, settling back, stretching his arms along the bar. "Let's see... I could say I was born here, but that'd be a lie. Could tell you I moved here for work, but that wouldn't be right either." He paused, dragging his fingers along the condensation of his glass. "Maybe I just like it here."

Y/N lifted a brow. "Because it's quiet?"

"Something like that."

She watched him for a beat, and Harry wondered if she knew what she was doing—if she realized how good she was at holding his attention. Most people tried too hard. They flirted, they fawned, they tried to impress. But Y/N? She just existed in a way that made people want to lean in, to hear more, to know more.

"Guess we have that in common, then," she said finally, tilting her head. "We both like quiet places."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know about that, sweetheart. You say you like quiet, but you've been sitting here talking to me all night."

She exhaled a small laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I could say the same about you."

Harry smirked, tapping a ringed finger against his glass. "Fair enough."

For a moment, they sat there, the air between them humming with something unspoken. The bar roared around them—music blared, drinks poured, voices overlapped in a steady, endless murmur. But somehow, it all felt distant.

She hadn't asked the obvious questions yet. She hadn't asked what he did, if he had family here, if he ever planned on leaving. Most people did, within the first five minutes of meeting him. But not her.

And he wondered if that's because she didn't care...

Or because she already knew.

Harry studied her, his gaze sweeping over the slope of her collarbone, the way her fingers curled around her glass. She looked soft. Breakable. But something lurked underneath, just out of reach.

"You always travel alone?" he asked, keeping his tone casual.

She shifted. Not much, just enough that he caught it. "Most of the time."

"Most of the time?" he echoed, intrigued.

She nodded. "Sometimes I meet people along the way."

Harry hummed, dragging his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "And how do you decide who's worth meeting?"

Her lips twitched. "Gut feeling, I suppose."

That made him grin. "And what's your gut telling you about me?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked at him—really looked at him, her eyes searching his face, like she weighed something in her mind.

And then, finally, she tilted her head and said, "I haven't decided yet."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I like you, Y/N."

She raised a brow. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not." He lifted his glass, holding her gaze as he sipped. "But I've got a gut feeling."

And for the first time, he wondered if she was the one testing him.

The conversation hung between them, taut as wire.

Y/N held Harry's gaze, unrushed to break the quiet. Most people fidgeted when Harry didn't offer an easy out. They stammered, tripped over their curiosity. But she sat still, unreadable, as if time meant nothing.

Harry itched to unravel her.

"You always trust your gut?" she asked, tapping her fingernail on her glass stem.

Harry's mouth curved. "Never failed me."

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "You sound certain."

He chuckled, deep in his throat. "That bad?"

She paused, considering. "Depends if you're right."

His grin widened.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, eyes locked on hers, "I'm always right."

She laughed then—soft, genuine. A pleasant sound, but Harry knew better. She slipped from his grasp before he could close his fingers around her.

Clever girl.

"I'll stick around and see," she mused, tilting her wine glass.

That caught his attention.

She planned to stay.

It thrilled him more than it should. Something about her made him want to push, to uncover why she sat here, in his town, his bar, talking to him.

"I'll make it simple," he said, placing a twenty on the counter and signaling the bartender. "Walk with me."

She paused. Barely noticeable, but he caught it.

Harry waited. He didn't backtrack or reassure. He watched her, let the choice weigh on her.

Slowly, she nodded.

"Fine," she murmured, standing as he did. "Don't get me lost."

Harry smirked, pocketing his hands as he led her to the door.

"Love," he drawled, pushing it open, "Where's the fun in that?"

Night air enveloped them, thick with salt and damp earth. Streets lay quiet, occasional headlights cutting through darkness. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, not quite shivering.

Harry's eyes sharpened in the streetlight glow.

"Cold?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

She glanced at him, something flashing across her face. "You always double your questions?"

Harry chuckled. "When I want truth."

Y/N exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. "I told you. I'm fine."

He believed her.

For now.

They walked, waves crashing in the distance. This town wasn't built for excitement. People vanished into the scenery here. No one asked questions.

Perfect for someone like him.

"Why'd you really come here?" Harry asked, glancing over.

Y/N tilted her head. "I needed a change."

"Mm." He nodded slowly. "You picked nowhere for that?"

Her lips twitched. "I like quiet, remember?"

"Right," he murmured, tongue grazing his bottom lip. "Quiet places."

He wondered if she knew what she did. If she realized she balanced on a blade's edge, toeing the line between harmless and much darker.

She didn't look afraid.

Most people sensed something in him, even unnamed. Their instincts recognized danger. They hesitated, eyes darting to exits, fingers twitching to flee.

But Y/N?

She walked beside him, matching his stride.

That made her different.

That made her interesting.

"You trust strangers often?" he asked casually.

She laughed softly. "What makes you think I trust you?"

That stopped him for a heartbeat.

Then he grinned, sharp-edged.

"Love," he murmured, head tilted, "If you didn't, you wouldn't be here."

Y/N smiled, something unreadable flickering in her eyes before she looked ahead.

Harry's fingers brushed the metal of his rings inside his pockets as he watched Y/N. She moved with a calculated ease, each step measured, her words precise. Not the loose-limbed swagger of the tipsy, but a controlled relaxation that piqued his interest.

"You know," she said, her voice low, "This place isn't as quiet as you think."

Harry glanced at her. "No?"

She shook her head, eyes fixed ahead. "It seems that way. Small town, friendly people, coastal charm. But underneath... there's a story here."

Something flickered in his chest. He smirked. "A story. What, you a journalist?"

She laughed softly. "Close. I write true crime."

Harry slowed imperceptibly, processing her words.

True crime.

"That why you're here?" he asked, voice smooth. "Looking for your next bestseller?"

Y/N hummed. "Maybe."

Her response made his fingers twitch. Not a lie, not the truth. Harry knew how to dissect such half-truths.

"What's the angle?" he mused. "Small-town scandal? Stolen cars, missing cats?"

She exhaled, half-amused, half-disbelieving. "You're funny."

"I try."

She studied his face, as she had all night. "I heard there was a killer here."

Years of practice kept Harry's expression neutral. He blinked, then laughed. "A killer? Dramatic."

Y/N didn't smile. She tilted her head, eyes intense. "You haven't heard?"

Harry shrugged. "Small towns love their ghost stories."

"This one's not a ghost story," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No," she confirmed. "People go missing here, Harry. They don't come back."

The way she said his name - testing its weight - coiled something in his chest.

He exhaled, amused. "Sounds like conspiracy blogs."

"Maybe," she admitted, watching him. "Or I know how to look for patterns."

Harry smiled, lazy. "What patterns, sweetheart?"

Y/N stepped closer. He saw the glint in her eyes. "People disappear here. Specific people. Tourists. Women. Those without someone looking for them." She paused. "It's been happening for a while."

Harry tilted his head. "That so?"

She nodded. "I've followed the cases for months. No bodies. No leads. Just... gone."

Her words led somewhere. She waited for his reaction.

Harry leaned in, voice low. "Tell me, love. What makes you think you'll find anything different?"

Y/N held his gaze, unwavering. "Because I know what to look for."

The words hung between them, heavy. For the first time that night, Harry wondered if she played him.

And he liked it.

Harry studied her, noting the slight tilt of her chin, her posture—not tense, not afraid, just… waiting.

She waited for him to slip.

He exhaled, chuckling low in his chest. "I thought you were a sweet girl looking for a quiet drink."

Her lips twitched. "I told you I wasn't spontaneous."

"Right." Harry's tongue dragged along his cheek. "You came for a story."

She nodded. "Something like that."

"What if," he mused, head cocked, "you don't like the ending?"

Y/N didn't flinch. "I rewrite it."

Harry grinned, sharp-edged. She intrigued him. Not stupid. Not naive. She kept her cards close, made him want to flip them himself.

"Do you chase ghosts often," he murmured, stepping closer, "or am I lucky?"

Her breath caught, barely. "I don't believe in ghosts," she said.

"No?"

"No."

Harry's gaze raked her face. She stood steady, but he knew how people hid nerves. Tightened fingers, stuttered breath, racing pulse betraying calm eyes.

Y/N knew his presence. She didn't try to escape it.

"What do you believe in?" His voice curled like smoke.

She tilted her head, eyes flicking to his mouth. "Patterns. People who think they're untraceable."

Harry's smirk lingered. His chest tightened.

She excelled at this.

Too much.

She hadn't stumbled into danger. She wasn't lured into the woods, blind to watching wolves.

She came deliberately.

For him.

Yet she stood, challenging him, tempting him. It thrilled him more than anything in years.

"Found someone, then?" he asked, watching her. "This killer?"

Her lips parted, amusement in her eyes. "Maybe. I'm close."

"That so?"

She nodded. "I need to get closer."

His stomach knotted. Her words hung between them, daring him to act—

Fuck.

Harry stepped in, slow, deliberate. She held her ground, let his heat envelop her like a question.

"You're brave," he murmured, silk-voiced, "or stupid."

Y/N lifted her chin, her breath ghosting his lips. "We'll see."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Harry exhaled, amused, and stepped back.

Y/N blinked, surprised for a second. He caught it.

Good.

He'd keep her guessing.

"For someone seeking a killer," he mused, grinning, "you seem fearless."

She watched him, shrugging. "Maybe I don't think he'd hurt me."

"Why's that?"

Y/N exhaled softly, head tilted. "People like that don't hurt people like me."

The words settled, thick and heavy, curling around something unsaid.

Harry kept his smirk, but something sharp dug in.

For the first time in years…

He didn't know which of them hunted the other.

Harry watches her closely, his smirk lazy but his mind sharp, dissecting her every move. The way her breath evens out, the way she blinks just a second too late, like she’s measuring the moment instead of reacting to it. Most people act without thinking.

She doesn’t.

She’s controlled. She’s careful. And yet—she’s standing too close, speaking too softly, dipping into the kind of intimacy that could disarm most men.

Most.

Not him.

"People like that don’t hurt people like you," he murmurs, rolling the words over in his mouth like a sip of whiskey. "Now why’s that, sweetheart?"

Y/N shrugs, her gaze flickering up to meet his. "Because I don’t run."

That? That’s fucking interesting.

Harry huffs a soft breath of amusement, shifting on his feet, dragging his thumb over the silver band on his middle finger. "So, what—this is a test? You poking the bear, seeing if it bites?"

She exhales a soft laugh, tipping her head slightly. "I don’t think you’re a bear, Harry."

That makes him smirk. "No?"

"No," she murmurs, her voice dipping lower, the same way his does when he wants people to lean in. "Bears are predictable. You… you’re something else."

Fuck.

She’s good.

Too good.

This isn’t just a woman poking around for a headline. This isn’t just a curious tourist looking to spook herself with small-town horror stories.

She came here for him.

And she’s enjoying this.

Harry shifts, stepping into her space again, this time slower, more deliberate. He watches for the tells—the flicker of hesitation, the instinct to step back, the part of her brain that should be screaming at her to move.

But she holds her ground.

He fucking loves that.

"You’ve got me all figured out, then?" he murmurs, his breath warm against her cheek.

Y/N doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t tremble. Doesn’t run.

Instead, she tilts her chin up slightly, meeting his gaze without fear. "Not yet."

A beat.

Then, Harry smiles. Slow. Amused.

He steps back.

And just like before—just like he’d hoped—she doesn’t hide her surprise quickly enough.

Gotcha.

She’s been leading him somewhere all night, but she didn’t expect him to lead her right back.

Good.

He wants to keep her guessing.

Y/N doesn't flinch. Doesn't tremble. Doesn't run.

She tilts her chin up, meeting his gaze. "Not yet."

A beat.

Harry's lips curl. Slow. Amused.

He steps back.

Her surprise flashes across her face, too quick to hide.

Gotcha.

She's led him all night, but he's led her right back.

Good.

He'll keep her guessing.

"You wanna know what I think?" Harry slides his hands into his pockets, his rings' weight grounding him.

Y/N crosses her arms, fingers brushing her biceps, piecing him together. "Enlighten me."

Harry grins. "I think you're used to people giving you what you want."

Her lips twitch. "And what do you think I want?"

He tilts his head. "Answers."

She laughs, shaking her head. "That's not entirely wrong."

"But it's not entirely right," he says, tongue dragging along his bottom lip. "If it was just answers, you wouldn't play games. You wouldn't tease it out, dragging this along like you're enjoying the chase."

Y/N's breath catches—barely, but enough.

Harry smirks.

"See," he steps closer, watching her not react—a reaction itself. "You didn't come for a ghost story. You came for a monster."

Y/N holds his gaze. Steady. Unflinching.

Then—she smiles.

"Maybe," she says. "But what makes you think I haven't found one already?"

The air shifts.

Tightens.

Harry's pulse ticks up, thrumming beneath his skin like a song's start.

This is different.

She's not here to dig.

She's here to hunt.

And the best part?

She thinks she's the only one playing.

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. "Sweetheart, you should be careful who you go looking for."

Y/N tilts her head, eyes dark and unreadable. "You should be careful what you let me find."

Fucking hell.

Harry should be irritated.

Most people don't get this close, don't sniff him out before he's ready. He's careful. Deliberate. He's spent years weaving himself into this town, into its routine—just another local boy, just another pretty face with a devil-may-care smirk and easy charm that makes people ignore the static in their minds when they're around him.

But Y/N?

She's not ignoring anything.

She's seeing right through him.

And fuck, he likes it.

"You've got an ego, don't you?" He steps close enough to watch her breathing shift, her pulse tick at her throat's hollow. "Think you're the first to come sniffing around here, looking for shadows?"

Y/N doesn't flinch. Doesn't step back. "No. But I think I'll be the last."

A grin stretches across Harry's lips. "Bold of you."

"Accurate," she corrects.

God, she's good.

Her movements, her speech—calculated. Every glance, every brush of her fingers against her skin, every moment of hesitation that isn't hesitation at all. She's not stumbling. She's testing him.

And he can't tell if she's doing it to prove he's dangerous...

Or to know just how dangerous he is.

Harry exhales, tongue dragging along his cheek's inside. "So, if you're so sure there's a monster here, what's your plan?"

Y/N blinks, and for the first time all night, she looks at him with something soft.

Not nerves. Not fear. Something else entirely.

She tilts her head, gaze flickering over his face, committing every inch to memory.

"That depends," she says quietly. "On whether the monster is stupid enough to let me get close."

Fuck.

Harry inhales sharply, hands twitching in his pockets, fighting the urge to reach for her. Not out of anger. Not out of fear.

Out of curiosity.

Out of something darker.

She's making this a game. Letting him chase her, even as she hunts him right back.

He should end this. Should laugh it off, shake his head, tell her she's got it all wrong and slip back into his role.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he leans in, voice roughening against the air between them.

"And what if the monster is letting you get close on purpose?"

A beat.

Then—Y/N smiles.

Not wide. Not playful. Not the kind of smile people give when they're being charmed into something dangerous.

No.

This smile is knowing.

Like she's already figured that out.

Like she's been waiting for him to admit it.

And that?

That makes Harry's pulse spike in a way it never has before.

"You really want to play this game with me, sweetheart?" he asks, tilting his head.

Y/N exhales, stepping in close enough for him to smell her perfume's faint trace, her skin's warmth beneath the night's cool breeze.

Her lips barely move when she speaks.

"I think we've already started."

For a long moment, neither of them speak. The night hums around them—the distant crash of waves, the low murmur of the wind slipping through alleyways, the occasional flicker of headlights rolling down the quiet street.

But in this moment, there is only them.

Harry studies her, the way her lips hover just slightly apart, the way her pulse thrums steady at the base of her throat. She’s not afraid. That much is clear. If anything, she looks thrilled.

That’s the part that gets to him.

Most people don’t know they’re stepping into his web until it’s too late. They let their guard down, let him in, let him win. But Y/N?

She walked into the dark on purpose.

And now she’s daring him to close the door behind her.

His fingers twitch in his pockets, but he doesn’t move. Not yet.

Instead, he tilts his head, letting his eyes trace over her face, slow and thoughtful.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he murmurs, his voice low and deliberate.

Y/N exhales a soft breath, not quite a laugh, but something close. "So are you."

Harry smirks. "I don’t lose."

Her lips curve slightly, like she’s heard that before. "Maybe you haven’t played against someone like me."

Fuck.

His chest tightens, something dark curling low in his stomach.

She’s making this a game, but he doesn’t know what kind yet.

Is she just a girl with too much curiosity? A writer with a death wish? Or—is she more than that?

Is she here to catch him?

Or worse—is she here to see if she can be just like him?

Harry lets out a soft, amused breath, rolling his shoulders back, easing some of the tension out of them. "Alright, then," he murmurs. "Let’s play."

Y/N raises a brow. "Just like that?"

He nods. "Why not?"

Her eyes flicker over his face, searching for something. "Because I don’t think you’re the type to give up control."

Oh, she’s good. She’s so fucking good.

Harry chuckles, low and warm. "You think I’m giving it up?"

She lifts her chin slightly. "Aren’t you?"

Harry watches her for another long moment, considering. He should be more cautious. He should be shutting this down, slipping back into the persona that’s kept him untouchable for so long.

But for the first time in years, he feels something like a thrill creeping beneath his skin.

This isn’t a woman who wandered too close to the fire.

This is a woman who wants to see if she can survive it.

And Harry?

He’s just dying to find out how far she’s willing to go.

"Alright," he murmurs, dragging his tongue along his bottom lip. "Tell me, then—where do we start?"

Y/N holds his gaze, her fingers curling around her sleeve as she exhales softly.

"With a question," she says.

Harry smirks. "Ask away, sweetheart."

She leans in just slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you believe in fate?"

Harry blinks, caught off guard. Not what he expected.

But instead of answering right away, he lets the silence stretch, lets her see the way he weighs the words before he responds.

"Fate," he echoes, tilting his head. "You think that’s what this is?"

She shrugs, but there’s something sharp in the way she does it. "You and I, in the same place, at the same time. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?"

Harry exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You’re telling me you came all this way looking for a killer, and now you think it’s fate that we met?"

Y/N’s lips curve into something small, something almost innocent—almost.

"I think fate puts people in front of us for a reason," she says. "It’s up to us to figure out why."

A slow smirk pulls at Harry’s mouth.

"Alright then," he murmurs, stepping just slightly closer, just enough to watch the way her breath hitches. "Let’s figure it out, shall we?"

And for the first time in a long, long while…

Y/N doesn’t waver.

Even with Harry inches from her, even with his voice sinking into something low and dangerous, even with the weight of his gaze pressing into her like a hand at the base of her throat—she doesn’t move.

She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t shift away.

She holds her ground.

And that is what makes his blood hum, makes his fingers twitch at his sides. He’s used to the thrill of the chase, the way people give themselves away before they even realize they’ve lost. But this?

This is something else entirely.

A game where neither of them have tipped their hand.

A hunt where both of them think they’re the predator.

And fuck—he likes it.

"So," he murmurs, keeping his voice light, casual, like there’s not something razor-sharp curling in his chest. "What happens now?"

Y/N tilts her head slightly, like she’s considering the same thing. "That depends."

Harry lifts a brow. "On?"

She exhales a soft breath, dragging her fingers along the seam of her sleeve. "On whether or not you’re going to answer my question."

Ah. Right.

Fate.

Harry smirks, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches her, watches the way she’s still standing there like she belongs in this moment, like she isn’t toeing the edge of something dangerous.

"Let’s say I do," he muses, tilting his head. "What would that prove?"

Y/N doesn’t hesitate. "That you believe in patterns. That some things don’t happen by accident."

Harry hums, turning the words over in his mind. She’s fishing.

Not clumsily—not the way most people would, tossing out accusations and hoping something sticks. No, she’s patient. She’s waiting for him to slip.

Too bad for her—he doesn’t slip.

He steps closer, just enough that the air between them tightens, just enough that if either of them took a breath too deep, they’d touch.

"You think that’s what this is?" he murmurs, his voice dipping into something slow, deliberate. "You and me, standing here, playing this little game?"

Y/N holds his gaze. "Don’t you?"

Harry lets a beat pass, lets the tension thrum between them before he leans in slightly, just enough for his breath to brush the shell of her ear.

"I don’t believe in fate, sweetheart," he murmurs. "I believe in decisions."

And when he pulls back, he watches the way her lips part just slightly—not because she’s surprised.

Because she agrees.

Fuck.

She’s so goddamn interesting.

"Decisions," she repeats, tipping her chin up just slightly. "Like the kind that make people disappear?"

A challenge.

A test.

And he could do a lot of things in this moment. He could smirk, laugh, brush it off, tell her she’s reaching, tell her she’s been spending too much time digging into ghost stories that aren’t real.

But Harry?

Harry leans in again.

Not enough to touch, but enough to dare.

"Tell me something, love," he murmurs, his voice so low it barely cuts through the sound of the waves in the distance. "Are you really here to find a killer…"

His lips twitch, just slightly, as he lets his eyes trace over her face, as he watches the way her breath catches, the way her fingers curl slightly at her sides.

"Or are you here to see if you’re just like me?"

That?

That finally makes her react.

Her throat bobs. Not much. Just enough for him to know.

Just enough for him to realize—this isn’t about justice.

This isn’t about stopping someone.

This is about understanding.

About looking into the dark and seeing if she recognizes herself.

And for the first time, Harry wonders if she’s not just the hunter.

Maybe—just maybe—she’s looking for permission.

And that?

That changes everything.

The moment stretched between them, thick and heavy.

Y/N didn't speak, didn't recoil or rush to defend herself. Harry's pulse kicked up, humming beneath his skin. If she was another reporter, another detective chasing ghosts, she'd have denied it. Scoffed, rolled her eyes, called him insane.

But she didn't.

She looked at him.

Deciding if she'd tell the truth.

Wondering if he knew it already.

Fuck.

Harry let the silence linger, watching her throat bob, her fingers twitch before stilling. She masked it well. Kept calm, hid how his words cut through her.

But he caught it.

Now he wanted to see what she'd do.

"You think I'm just like you?" she asked, her voice quiet.

Harry smirked, tilting his head. "That depends," he said, his voice like whiskey. "Are you?"

Y/N exhaled, almost laughing. "That's dangerous to assume."

"Not an assumption, sweetheart," Harry said, stepping closer, watching her breath tighten. "It's a question."

She didn't move. Didn't step back, flinch, or run.

She held her ground, eyes searching his face.

Then—she smiled.

Knowing.

Like she'd realized she was caught.

Like she didn't mind.

"Maybe," she said.

The answer hit Harry like a thrill, twisting into something darker, heavier.

He knew now.

This wasn't about justice.

Wasn't about a story.

This was about her.

How she saw herself. How she'd been looking for something unnamed—undefined.

Something like him.

"Maybe," he repeated, his voice low enough to brush her skin. "Now, that's interesting."

Y/N lifted her chin. "You think so?"

Harry hummed, dragging his fingers along his lip as he watched her.

For the first time in years...

He'd met someone worth keeping.

Not a toy.

Not a victim.

Not someone to lure and break.

Something else entirely.

And the worst part?

She looked at him like she knew.

"Tell me," he said, tracing his finger down her wrist. Feeling her pulse. Feeling how it didn't jump.

"How does it end, love?"

Y/N exhaled. "That depends."

"On?"

Her lips curved.

"On whether you let me in."

The words settled, dark and electric.

This was no longer a game.

This was far more dangerous.

Two wolves meeting in the dark.

Not much. Just enough for him to know.

Just enough for him to realize—this isn't about justice.

This isn't about stopping someone.

This is about understanding.

About looking into the dark and seeing if she recognizes herself.

And for the first time, Harry wonders if she's not just the hunter.

Maybe—she's looking for permission.

And that?

That changes everything.

Harry's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Y/N. She stood before him, unmoving, her face a mask of calm. But beneath that mask, something lurked. Something that made his skin prickle.

He stepped closer, close enough to catch the scent of her perfume. Y/N didn't flinch. Didn't step back. Her eyes met his, steady and unflinching.

"You're not here for justice," Harry said, his voice low. "Are you?"

Y/N's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What makes you say that?"

Harry's fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to see if she'd recoil. But he held back. "Because you're not looking at me like I'm a monster," he said. "You're looking at me like I'm a mirror."

Y/N's breath caught, just for a moment. A flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—flashed across her face before disappearing. "And what do you think you see in that mirror, Harry?"

He leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted across her cheek. "I see someone who's tired of pretending," he murmured. "Someone who's looking for permission to stop."

Y/N's eyes darkened. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. "Permission from who?"

Harry's hand moved, fingers brushing against her wrist. Her pulse thrummed beneath his touch, steady and strong. "From someone who understands," he said. "From someone who won't judge."

Y/N's fingers curled, not pulling away from his touch, but not leaning into it either. "And you think that's you?"

Harry's lips curled into a smile that was all teeth. "I think you already know the answer to that, sweetheart."

Y/N's eyes searched his face, looking for something. Whatever she found made her smile, a slow, dangerous thing that made Harry's blood sing. "Maybe I do," she said.

Harry's grip on her wrist tightened, just a fraction. "Then the question is," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "what are you going to do about it?"

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "That depends," she breathed, "on whether you're willing to show me."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He pulled back, just enough to meet her gaze. What he saw there made his heart race. Not fear. Not disgust. But hunger. A hunger that matched his own.

"Be careful what you wish for, love," he warned.

Y/N's smile widened. "Oh, Harry," she said, her voice soft and dark. "I'm counting on it."

Harry doesn’t wait for a reply.

Instead, he steps back, tilting his head, letting the silence stretch between them like a live wire. He watches the way Y/N breathes, the way her lips part just slightly, the way she doesn’t hesitate. She’s waiting for him to move, to tell her where to go, to let her in.

He grins, slow and deliberate.

"Come on, then," he murmurs, turning on his heel.

Y/N doesn’t ask where they’re going.

She just follows.

The town is empty at this hour, most lights flickering out, only the occasional neon sign humming in the distance. The only sound is the steady rhythm of their footsteps against the pavement.

Harry leads them off the main street, down past the bar, past the old fishing docks where the water sloshes lazily against the wooden posts. Then, further still, where the town begins to slip away behind them, swallowed by trees and salt-thick air.

The cliffs.

The place where the town meets the edge of the world, where the land drops away into black, crashing waves.

The wind picks up as they step off the gravel road, onto the dirt path that winds its way toward the top. It’s quiet, save for the sound of the tide pulling in and out, a rhythmic thing, steady and endless.

"You bring all your dates out here?" Y/N asks, her voice light, teasing. But there’s something else beneath it. A question. A test.

Harry smirks, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You’re not a date."

She hums. "No?"

"No." He glances at her, his smile lazy but sharp. "You’re something else."

That seems to satisfy her.

At the top, the land evens out before breaking away into nothing. The wind is stronger here, sweeping through his curls, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Below, the waves churn, dark and endless, slamming against the jagged rocks.

A perfect place for things to disappear.

Y/N steps toward the edge, not recklessly, but curiously. She tilts her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder.

"This where you do it?"

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. "Now, that’d be predictable, wouldn’t it? I do it in a small trailer just out of the suburbs."

Y/N exhales a soft laugh, dragging her fingers along the sleeve of her jacket. "Wouldn’t be a bad place for it."

He watches her carefully. The way she says it, the way she toes the edge, the way she tests the space between them.

She’s not just hunting for him.

She’s trying to see if she belongs in this world.

Harry steps up beside her, slow and easy, letting the weight of his presence settle against hers. "You looking for proof?"

Y/N exhales softly, her gaze fixed on the waves below. "I already have proof," she murmurs. "I just wanted to see if you’d bring me here."

Clever girl.

Harry tilts his head, watching her. "And what does that tell you?"

She finally looks at him. "That you’re testing me, too."

Harry smirks. She’s right.

Because this is a test.

For both of them.

A challenge, a question, a line in the sand waiting to be crossed.

"You asked me to prove it," Y/N says, tilting her head slightly. "So tell me, Harry—what would that look like?"

Harry exhales a slow breath, drags his tongue over his bottom lip, decides.

Then, he reaches into his pocket.

Pulls out a small, silver switchblade.

Flicks it open.

The sharp, metallic click cuts through the night.

And Y/N?

She doesn’t move.

She doesn’t flinch.

Her breath doesn’t even change.

Harry smirks. "Still sure you want in, sweetheart?"

Y/N reaches out.

Not for his wrist. Not to shove him away.

She reaches for the blade.

And presses the tip against her palm.

A single drop of blood beads at the surface before trailing down her wrist.

And fuck, fuck, fuck—

Harry has never wanted anything more in his life.

The drop of blood catches in the moonlight, a perfect bead of red against her skin before it slides down, leaving a thin trail along the delicate line of her wrist.

Harry doesn’t move.

Not because he’s stunned—he doesn’t do stunned—but because he’s taking his time, watching, memorizing.

The way she holds his gaze, steady and sure, her breathing still even. The way her fingers barely twitch around the blade, like she’s testing the weight of it, feeling the cold bite of steel against her palm.

Like she’s comfortable with it.

Like she’s done this before.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t like this as much as he does. Shouldn’t feel this pull in his stomach, sharp and deep, curling like something alive.

But he does.

Y/N tilts her chin slightly, watching him. "Satisfied?"

Harry exhales a slow breath, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip. "Depends," he murmurs, voice low and even. "You planning to stop there?"

She hums, turning her hand slightly, watching the way the blood slides over her skin, soaking into the lifeline carved into her palm. Then, lazily, she lifts it to her mouth and drags her tongue over the wound.

Harry’s fingers curl into fists at his sides.

Not out of anger. Not out of anything close to it.

But because he’s never been tempted like this before.

Never wanted to pull someone closer just to see how much further they’d go.

She steps toward him, her movements slow, deliberate, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to him.

Maybe she does.

"So, what now?" she murmurs, tilting her head slightly.

Harry smirks, dragging his gaze over her face, her parted lips, the way her breath ghosts over his skin. "That depends, sweetheart," he murmurs. "How bad do you want to know what it’s like?"

Her pulse flickers at the base of her throat. Not fear. Anticipation.

She lifts her hand, the same one still slick with blood, and presses it against his chest.

Harry exhales sharply, feeling the warmth of it soak through his shirt, seeping into his skin.

"You tell me," she whispers.

And fuck.

He’s never met anyone like her.

Never met anyone who wants it.

Not just to understand.

Not just to chase a story.

But because she sees herself in it.

And maybe that’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Harry lifts a hand, curling his fingers around her wrist, holding her there, feeling the way her pulse thrums steady beneath his grip.

"Alright," he murmurs, voice like smoke, curling slow and thick in the space between them.

"Let’s find out."

Then, he turns, keeping her wrist in his grasp, and leads her away from the cliff’s edge.

The woods swallow them whole, dense and dark, the moon slicing through the branches in thin, silver beams.

Y/N doesn’t ask where they’re going.

She just follows.

Harry doesn’t take people here. Not unless they don’t leave. But tonight is different.

She wants to see.

Wants to know.

And Harry?

Harry wants to see just how deep this goes.

The crunch of leaves beneath their boots is the only sound for a while, the ocean a distant hum behind them. Then, Y/N speaks.

"Who was your first?"

Harry flicks a glance at her, surprised—but only for a second. "You first."

Y/N smiles. Small. Barely there.

"I was twelve," she says, her voice quiet. "Neighborhood boy. He had a temper."

Harry tilts his head. "Accident?"

"Not exactly."

His pulse ticks up. Jesus fucking Christ.

He wasn’t wrong.

She’s not playing at this.

She’s been in it all along.

And the worst part?

He doesn’t know if she’s been hunting him to stop him—

Or because she wants to learn from him.

He smirks, rolling his shoulders back, watching the way the light bounces off her skin. "So, you’ve got blood on your hands, then?"

Y/N exhales softly. "I think we both do."

That makes something sharp twist in his chest.

Because she’s right.

She’s so fucking right.

They step into a clearing, and Harry stops, turning to her, watching the way she blinks up at him, unafraid.

"So," he murmurs, slipping the knife from his pocket again, letting the blade catch the moonlight. "You really wanna see what it’s like?"

Y/N doesn’t hesitate.

"Yes."

Harry breathes deep, tilts his head, watches the way she doesn’t so much as blink when he holds the knife out between them.

"You know," he muses, dragging the tip of the blade lightly over his palm, just enough to let the metal whisper against his skin.

"This might make me fall in love with you."

Y/N smiles.

"That’s what I’m counting on.

Harry turns the knife in his hand, the handle solid and familiar against his palm. The sharp glint of steel catches in the moonlight, the same way the reflection of the ocean had shimmered far below. A quiet, deadly thing.

Just like her.

Y/N stands in front of him, waiting, eyes dark and unwavering. She’s patient, controlled, not flinching as he drags the blade across his palm, slow and deliberate.

The cut is shallow—for now. The skin parts beneath the steel, blood beading up, rich and dark in the pale light. The scent of iron curls into the cool night air, tangling between them.

Her gaze flickers down, watching the way it gathers at the edges of his fingers, threatening to drip onto the earth below.

But before it can—

Harry moves.

His free hand lifts, catches her jaw, tilts her face up.

She gasps, barely, her lips parting on instinct, and that’s when he smears his bloody fingers against her mouth.

The warmth of it streaks across her lips, wet and dark, painting her in him.

Harry watches, his pulse spiking, his chest tightening.

"Open," he murmurs, his voice thick and rough.

Y/N’s breath shudders, just slightly, but she listens.

Her lips part, soft and willing, and he slips his fingers past them, slow and deliberate.

Holy fuck.

Her mouth is warm, her tongue slick as it curls around his skin. She sucks lightly, dragging her tongue over the metallic taste of his blood, her lashes flickering as she closes her lips around him.

Harry swears under his breath.

No control.

No dominance.

Something deeper.

Something willing.

Something hungry.

Y/N holds his gaze as she takes it, her lips sealed tight around his fingers, her breath coming shallow as she lets him feed it to her.

Harry’s other hand tightens around the knife, his chest rising and falling, something dark curling in the pit of his stomach.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his voice nothing but a rasp. "Look at you."

Y/N hums softly against his fingers, her tongue flicking against his skin, tasting him.

It’s fucking obscene.

And he’s never wanted to ruin someone more.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers free, dragging them along her bottom lip, smearing the last trace of red against her mouth.

Her tongue darts out, licking it away.

"Good girl," Harry breathes.

Y/N smiles, just barely.

"Now," she whispers, tilting her head slightly. "Show me more."

Harry exhales, dragging his bloodied thumb over her cheekbone, marking her, claiming her, something twisting in his chest.

Y/N doesn’t move.

Not when Harry drags his bloodied thumb over her lips, not when his fingers slip lower, tracing the delicate curve of her throat, smearing red against her skin.

She tilts her chin, lets him.

She’s not just playing anymore. She’s inviting it.

His pulse hammers against his ribs, a slow, heavy beat as he watches her, memorizes the way she breathes, the way she doesn’t so much as tremble under his touch.

She should.

But she doesn’t.

Harry exhales, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. "You’re a strange one, love," he murmurs, voice low, thoughtful.

Y/N tilts her head slightly, her lips curling at the edges. "That a bad thing?"

Harry hums, his hand dropping from her jaw.

Then—quick as a flicker of lightning—he presses the blade to her throat.

She gasps.

Not in fear.

In surprise.

Her breath hitches, sharp and unsteady, but she doesn’t move.

Doesn’t step back.

Doesn’t flinch.

And fuck, that should piss him off.

It should break the spell.

Should remind him that she is not like him.

That she’s just another dumb girl, too curious for her own good, one that he could kill right now, here, on this spot.

One cut. That’s all it would take.

She’d bleed for him, go soft in his hands, just like all the others.

Harry leans in, just enough that his breath ghosts over her cheek, his grip on the knife steady, firm. "You shouldn’t trust me," he murmurs, the words curling against her skin like smoke. "You’re just another girl in the wrong place, at the wrong time."

Y/N exhales, slow and deliberate.

Then, she fucking smiles.

Not wide. Not terrified.

Knowing.

Like she’s been waiting for this.

Like she expected it.

Like she wanted it.

Harry’s fingers twitch around the handle of the blade, pressing just slightly deeper into her skin, just enough that he knows she can feel the sharp bite of it.

"You’re not afraid," he murmurs, almost to himself.

Y/N blinks up at him, steady, calm, her pulse flickering beneath the edge of the knife. "No."

"Why?"

A beat.

Then—

"Because I don’t think you’ll do it."

Harry freezes.

Because she means it.

Because she believes it.

Because she’s right.

He should be furious. Should push the blade deeper just to see if she still has that smug little smirk when she’s choking on blood.

But instead—

Harry exhales sharply, drops the knife.

It clatters to the ground between them.

Y/N doesn’t move, doesn’t even glance at it.

Her focus stays on him, her lips parting slightly, her breath still steady, even as the tension thickens.

Harry watches her. Watches the way she holds his gaze.

Then—

"Alright," he murmurs, voice rough, something dark curling in his stomach. "You win."

A flicker of something flashes through Y/N’s eyes. "What does that mean?"

Harry smirks, slow and dangerous, dragging his fingers along her jaw.

"It means you’re not just another dumb girl," he murmurs.

"It means I’m keeping you."

Harry drags his fingers along the side of her neck, just where the knife had been seconds before. He can still feel the phantom weight of it in his grip, the way her pulse had thrummed beneath the blade—steady, unwavering.

Most people, when they realize they’re in the hands of something dangerous, break apart at the seams. But Y/N? She’s stitched herself tighter.

She tilts her chin slightly, watching him, waiting. Letting him touch her.

And Harry?

Harry wants to pull her apart.

But not in the way he does with the others.

Not to ruin.

To understand.

"You ever held a knife like that before?" he asks, voice low, dragging his thumb lazily along her jaw.

Y/N exhales softly. "Yes."

He smiles.

"Used it?"

A pause. A beat.

Then—

"Yes."

Harry’s fingers tighten, curling just slightly against her skin. His pulse ticks up, slow and thrumming.

There it is.

Truth.

She’s not innocent.

Not just a writer with too much curiosity, not just a woman looking for answers.

She’s been in the dark before.

He tilts his head, his smirk lazy, sharp. "Tell me about your first."

Y/N doesn’t flinch.

If anything, she softens.

Not with hesitation—with memory.

She glances down at the discarded knife between them before lifting her gaze back to his, something dark flickering behind her eyes.

"I was twelve," she says finally, her voice quiet, steady. "There was a boy in my neighborhood. A little older. He liked to hurt things. Cats. Dogs. Girls."

Harry hums, dragging his fingers higher, brushing along her cheekbone. "And you didn’t like that, did you?"

Her lips twitch. "No."

"So, what did you do?"

Y/N tilts her chin, her breath slow and even. "I waited," she murmurs. "I watched him. I followed him when no one else was paying attention. And then, one night, when I knew he was alone… I stopped him."

Harry exhales slowly.

Fuck.

"How?" he asks, almost fascinated.

Y/N blinks up at him. "A knife."

His smirk grows. "Like this one?"

She smiles.

"Exactly like this one."

Harry chuckles, low and thrilled. Because this—is something he wasn’t expecting.

She’s not just intrigued by the dark.

She lives in it.

And suddenly, this night shifts into something else entirely.

Because she wasn’t just hunting him.

She was waiting for him to find her.

Harry drags his fingers down, along the line of her throat, feeling the steady, unshaken beat of her pulse beneath his touch.

"You ever done it again?" he murmurs.

Y/N exhales softly, her lips parting.

"Not yet."

Harry grins.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing closer, letting his voice scrape against the air between them.

"Would you like to?"

She doesn’t hesitate.

"Yes."

The flashing blue and red lights slice through the dark, bouncing off the trees, casting shadows that flicker across the pavement.

Harry is on his knees.

Wrists cuffed. Hands behind his back, shoulders squared, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. His hair is a mess, wild curls tangled from the struggle, damp at the ends where sweat clings to his skin. His lip is split, blood smeared down the corner of his mouth, staining his teeth as he snarls.

And he’s looking right at her.

No—through her.

Y/N stands in front of him, feet planted firm, her heart pounding so hard she swears he can hear it.

"You fucking bitch," he spits, his voice ragged, feral, seething. "You set me up."

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t step back. Doesn’t dare let them see how deep it cuts through her.

Because she was never supposed to get this close.

This was supposed to be a job.

Undercover. Gain his trust. Make him slip.

Find proof.

And she did.

He did slip. For her.

And now, he’s on his knees in the dirt, with officers surrounding him like a pack of wolves, barking orders he’s ignoring, but all of his rage—all of his hatred—is aimed at her.

"Should’ve slit your fucking throat when I had the chance," Harry growls, his voice rough, desperate, real.

Y/N’s throat tightens.

Not out of fear.

No—that’s the worst part.

It’s something else entirely.

Because fuck—he looks beautiful like this.

Like a caged animal, all teeth and fury and betrayal.

Like something that was never meant to be caught.

His chest heaves, his rings glinting under the red-and-blue light, his fingers flexing against the cuffs as if he’s imagining wrapping them around her throat instead.

"You were never supposed to get this far," he snarls. "Never supposed to make it out. Fucking stupid bitch."

An officer presses a knee into his back, shoving him forward. "Shut the hell up, Styles."

Harry laughs.

It’s broken. Bitter.

Like he thinks this is funny.

Like he still can’t believe it.

Like he still wants her dead.

Y/N swallows, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

She shouldn’t feel this.

She shouldn’t feel anything.

But her pulse still skips when he looks at her like that. When his voice drips through her like something warm, something wrong.

She doesn’t want to think about the way his hands felt against her skin, or the way his mouth had hovered against her ear when he whispered things she hadn’t been sure were threats or promises.

She doesn’t want to remember the way he had touched her like he was trying to claim her.

But she does.

And when Harry grins at her, his blood-stained teeth flashing in the night, his voice curling toward her in one final, vicious whisper—

"You think this is over?"

Y/N shivers.

Because she doesn’t know if it is.

[lunaharrygurl]

Part 3: Almost too late

Part 1. Part 2.

Her coffee is cold and her toast is soggy after 15 minutes of staring at her wall. She was sure she had eyebags and had hair sticking up all types of ways. Ana could barely sleep last night with how much her mind was running. She saw Harry last night. Harry reached out to her. Her Harry. So much time had passed, but everything felt like yesterday. Her anger and wounds from all those years ago still felt fresh.

Ana never saw Harry again after that night. No messages. No calls. No late-night knocks on her door. At first, it had been unbearable. Every time her phone buzzed, she’d hoped it was him coming back to explain himself. Every time she passed by his favorite cafe, she half-expected to see him there, sitting with his ridiculous nail polish chipping off his fingers. But he had meant what he said—when he left, he never came back.

He was her greatest love and lost, but she doesn't regret shutting him out. She chose herself. She spent forever pining over him, fantasizing about being with him, even planning to confess. He was her best friend and someone she told everything to. But it couldn’t have been enough for him. He deserved someone who was confident in themselves and was pretty enough to be with him, and that wasn't her. Unfortunately, this idea that was drafted was later cemented in her head by the man who came into her life after, Alex. 

Ana thought Alex was different. He was sweet at first—attentive, charming, always knowing the right words to make her feel special. It was great. He never yelled, never hurt her—just never chose her.

He kissed her absentmindedly, like a habit rather than a desire. He never held her hand in public, never introduced her as his girlfriend. I’m just not big on labels, he’d say, but he never had trouble calling other girls beautiful while she sat beside him, invisible.

She tried to be enough. Laughed at his half-hearted jokes, stayed quiet when he canceled plans last minute, even wore some outfits Harry used to pick out for her because she assumed all men would be the same. 

“You’re too sensitive, Ana,” he’d sigh when she worked up the courage to ask if he even wanted her. “Not everything has to be so serious.”

For years, she told herself if I change, he’ll love me. But one day, staring at her reflection—tired eyes, forced smiles—she realized she wasn’t losing him. She was losing herself.

And that was worse.

For the benefit of both of them, he walked out of her life along with all of his belongings and she never heard from him again. That’s twice a man has broken her heart and left her alone to pick up the pieces. 

She spent years thinking she wasn’t worth the love of another, that she wasn’t pretty enough to have someone be faithful and care for her. She thought she was headed in the right direction once she stopped pining after Harry, but Alex turned out to be worse. It was really hard to get out of the hole she dug herself in, but she managed with the help of her best friends. Ana is forever grateful for them and she doesn't know where she would be without their support. 

She sips her cold coffee with her eyes closed and wishes she could erase all of those harsh memories. Her head drops down with a laugh because her life is such a mess. There’s no way the day her friends want to set her up with a new romantic interest, her old best friend slash ex lover reaches out. 

Ana suddenly remembers her phone laying open in her lap with all of the unopened messages from the night prior. Her Instagram icon haunts her as she sees Harry’s message. Staring at the screen for what feels like hours, she’s surprised to see another message popped up. 

Harry’s name lights up her phone, his message a simple thread pulling at the tightly woven fabric of her resolve.

@harrystyles: Good morning. I know it’s been a while, but I saw you last night. I didn’t know if I should say something, but… I couldn’t just not. 

Holy fuck. She should just ignore it, right? She doesn’t know if she would survive if she let him back in her life. Her fingers hover above the screen, the cursor blinking like it's waiting for her heart to catch up. Yeah, she should let the past stay buried, untouched and undisturbed. But curiosity is louder than anything, and she remembers he still needed to explain himself. 

@harrystyles: Don’t ignore me. Please. 

Her resolve slips, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. His persistence was always cute.

Why now? she wonders.

Her thumb hovers, then she types, deletes, types again.

@anniewhiskey: Hi. Not ignoring, just processing. Didn’t think I’d hear from you again. Or even see you. 

Ugh, there. Her heart feels like it’s going to explode.

She presses send.

Ana stares at the screen, recognizing the ache of loneliness she's carried for years. She misses being wanted, loved—held like she matters. The idea of Harry being that person again makes her chest warm.

But she can’t focus on that. Not now.

She puts her dishes in the sink and starts to get ready for her night shift. After getting her nursing license, she decided to come back home and work at her local hospital since she loved her community and it felt right. Her usual shift is 6 pm to 6 am, but after pulling so much overtime, her boss is letting her get off early. Ana likes taking the graveyard shift because it's a little less busy and she just enjoys the night better. Right after she clocks in, she checks with the day nurses to get an update on any people who need to be attended to and any news she should be aware of. She finally sits at the front reception desk and on instinct, she pulls out her phone.

A new message from Harry.

@harrystyles: I didn’t think I’d see you either. But now that I have, I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m sorry, Ana. For everything. Can we talk?

Hovering by a vending machine, Ana stares at Harry's message. Her heart is thudding with an annoying mix of excitement and dread. She tells herself to focus on work, but the words replay in her head like a song stuck on loop.

She decides to ignore his message for the better part of her shift, pleading with herself to move on. Around midnight, she gives in.

@anniewhiskey: why now? you didn’t seem to care when you left.

She sends it before she can overthink. No going back now.

Minutes later, her phone buzzes.

@harrystyles: Of course I care. I just didn’t know how to face you.

Ana’s chest tightens. She can’t tell if it’s anger or longing—or both.

Her fingers fly across the screen.

@anniewhiskey: how come I haven't seen you in years? why didn't you come back?

The reply comes faster this time.

@harrystyles: Because I was a coward. And I thought you were better off without me.

Before she can respond, her name is called over the intercom—an emergency coming in. She shoves her phone in her pocket, heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with work.

Ana slips her phone back into her pocket, but Harry’s words cling to her like static. I was a coward. The weight of them sits heavy, lingering even as she rushes into the chaos of the ER.

The lights buzz faintly overhead, the sterile smell of antiseptics grounding her to the present. A trauma case rolls in— a car accident. Blood. Fractures. Panic. She throws herself into autopilot, her hands steady even though her mind isn’t. She moves through the motions: checking vitals, assisting the doctor, barking orders to the newer nurses with calm authority. This is what she’s good at—fixing things, having control. But she can’t stitch up the parts of herself that still feel broken.

In the rare quiet moments, she finds herself zoning out. Her clipboard feels heavier, her notes messier. She keeps replaying everything—Harry’s message, his absence, Alex’s indifference. She wonders why the hell she still cares.

Between patients, she leans against the cold counter of the nurse’s station, staring at the clock, willing it to move faster. You’re better off without me, Harry had said. But was she? She left pieces of herself scattered in the years after he was gone, and she’s not sure if she ever really picked them back up.

A colleague snaps her out of her daze. “You good, Ana?”

She forces a smile and hums. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But it’s more than that. She’s tired of pretending she’s unaffected. Tired of guarding her heart like it’s made of glass when, really, it’s already cracked from years of neglect—by Harry, by Alex, by herself.

As the end of her shift nears, she pulls out her phone again. No new messages. She debates sending something. I hate you for leaving. Too harsh. I missed you. Too raw.

Instead, she types:

@anniewhiskey: I don’t know what you want from me, Harry.

She stares at the screen, thumb hovering. Then—send.

Ana clocks out, steps into the cool early morning air, and lets herself finally breathe.

The cool wind runs through her hair and her hand instinctively reaches for her neck. She’s been having an ache for a couple of weeks from how badly she’s been sleeping. Rolling her head from side to side, she can see from the corner of her eye a car’s headlights turning off. Ana decides she had enough alone time and moves to go back inside when her name is called.

“Annie, wait!”

Her eyes widened. Stunned, she quickly turns around to see the person who's haunted her mind for years. Still looking handsome as ever, Harry runs up the sidewalk to catch up with her. You’ve got to be kidding me. 

“I just want to talk, please.”

Ana takes a step back, instinctively creating distance like its armor. 

Harry slows as he reaches her, hands up slightly like he’s afraid she might bolt. His hair’s messier than she remembers, like he’s been running his fingers through it all night. He’s wearing his same leather jacket she always loved, the one she used to tease him about. It’s stupid how that detail makes her chest ache.  

“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, eyes searching hers. “I just—I didn’t know if you’d be willing to see me again. I had to see you.”  

Ana lets out a sharp laugh, bitter and cold. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good reason for not wanting to see you again. ” She crosses her arms, not because she’s cold, but because it feels like the only thing holding her together.  

Silence stretches between them, heavy with everything left unsaid. It’s around 1 am at this point.  The quiet of the night wraps around them. The sounds of ambulance sirens and people rushing inside start to feel distant, like it’s just her and Harry in the world. 

“I just—” he starts, then stops, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve thought about this moment for years, but now that you’re here, I don’t know what to say that won’t sound like an excuse.”  

Harry steps closer, not enough to breach her space, but enough to make her breath hitch. His voice softens. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to be what you deserved.”  

She hates how her heart clenches. She can’t help herself from being upset with how stressed he sounds. Her eyes start to sting and she has a deep frown on her face, trying very hard not to break in front of him.“You didn’t come back.”  

“I know,” he whispers. His eyes are glassy now, like he’s been carrying this guilt longer than she thought. “And I’m so sorry. I was scared. But not because I didn’t care. I cared too much, and it messed with my head. I thought leaving would make it easier for both of us.”  

Ana feels like she’s vibrating, every nerve on edge. “It wasn’t easier for me.” Her voice cracks on the last word, betraying her. She’s so angry with him and she hates that she still wants to be in his arms.

“You just decided for the both of us that we deserved to be apart.” Her voice is thick with tears and grief she never was able to express before. “You just left me! Alone! I thought I meant more to you, that you actually cared about me. And you left. ” 

“Annie, my goal was never to hurt you. I just… I wanted to tell you in person. I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped—” He cuts himself off, like the words are too much, too soon. 

But then he steps closer and raises his head up and looks her dead in the eyes. “I never stopped loving you.” 

Time stops.

“What?”

“God, I love you Annie. I have always loved you. The minute I laid eyes on you, I knew you’d be the death of me.”

“You're lying.” Her voice shakes. “You’re a liar. You don't… love me. It’s not possi-”

“Baby, you are so goddamn beautiful, it hurts not to be looking at you. The thought of you alone makes my heart stop. I have been in misery all these years and have been living in regret for not coming back and admitting how much control you have over me.” His hands reach out for her. He brings his left hand up to her cheek and cradles it. 

“I should've knocked down that door and told you the truth. I should’ve stayed until you came out to tell you the truth. I should've fought for you. For us. And that's my biggest regret. But seeing you again, there's no way I can make that same mistake. I need you annie. And I'm not leaving this time.”

Ana wants to believe everything but remembers what happened last time. “You were with other people. You were having sex with other women.” 

“I lied,” he breathes out. “I lied to everyone. I was embarrassed that I had only been with you and not keeping up with the reputation I was given. I was trying to impress them when I should've been trying to impress you.”

“How do I know you're serious?”

“Look at me.” He leans in and presses their foreheads together. “Because I’ll prove it every day if you let me. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you. Be with me. I love you, Annie. I never stopped.”

Ana squeezes her eyes shut. She’s battling fear and hope. She’s held onto her anger for so long—it’s been her armor. But standing here, with him holding her like she’s the most fragile thing in the world, she realizes something terrifying: she’s still in love with him. She always has been.

Her voice is barely a whisper, shaky and raw. “I hate you.”

A soft, broken laugh escapes him, his forehead pushing gently against hers. “I know.”

She takes a trembling breath, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket like she’s afraid he’ll disappear again. And maybe that’s what makes her finally say it.

“But I still love you,” she whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks. She pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes. 

“Yes?” he echoes, his voice filled with disbelief, hope lighting up his face like the sunrise.

“Yes,” she repeats, her lips quivering. “Just… don’t you dare leave me again.”

“Never,” he breathes, crashing his lips against hers, tasting salt and promises in the space where pain used to live.

A/N:

ahhh done. thank you so much reading, you are deeply appreciated. I wanted to wrap the story up with as much angst and have them end up together as well. i'm happy for ana and there is more to her story! this is the last part to the story, but I plan to add more short stories about their love. any feedback is appreciated, would love to hear what you think!!

[lunaharrygurl]

Pucking Rookie III

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: oops, more slow burn

Warnings: I have a feeling you will all be requesting a much FASTER update. Angst, fluff, shitty ex-boyfriend, the usual. Some violence which could b triggering. Please be kind to your mind.

Summary: Harry hates Kael. To be fair, most everyone hates him.

“Did y’bring your skates?” Harry asked. He was taking shots into the net for about an hour and a half at the time she had arrived. She was just a little over half an hour early to their practice. He paused to skate over to her. She was putting water bottles into place, clipboards, and other things that her uncle needed for a successful practice. Once everything was where it was supposed to be, she took her camera and took a practice shot of the ice behind Harry littered with pucks.

She frowned and looked away at her camera using it to divert his attention ever so slightly. Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “They’re in my car...”

Her unease wasn’t lost on Harry. “Do y’want t’go get them and I’ll help y’for a bit before practice?” He asked, leaning on his stick propped against the board.

She shook her head. “No thank you.”

He tilted his head at her. “C’mon, Rookie. You’re not going t’learn if y’don’t try.”

She sighed. “It’s not that... it’s just...” she looked up at him. “I’m still pretty embarrassed about it and I don’t want to do it here in front of everyone and everyone try to help...” She explained. “Like Uncle Charlie will give his two cents and honestly, I’ll be overwhelmed and I’m already nervous about it. The whole team watching would be even worse.”

Harry hadn’t really thought of that. But he wished he had because that meant that he could have a private lesson with her. One-on-one time with her was easily his new favorite thing. It happened a little more frequently since the night he followed her home. When he brought the used skates to her, she ordered pizza, and they played several rounds of Cribbage together. On a morning off from practice, he happened to be going by her place (of course going out of his way to be nearby) he did yoga with her before ordering breakfast to be delivered to her. Evenings where she worked at Louis’ he placed himself at his regular table and smiled at her as she came and went from kitchen to fluttering around the room waiting on everyone.

But on game days, whether they were home or away, she stayed her distance. He suspected she knew about his habits and his hookups. Which made him feel bad in a way he hadn’t worried about in ages. Harry was very comfortable with his sexuality. He liked having sex. He enjoyed making someone else come and yeah, he enjoyed that aspect for himself too.

But since he met the pretty photographer, he didn’t like it as much. Didn’t find it nearly as satisfying. Even though he wanted to.

Harry had a pond out behind his house. A pond that was very frozen in this chilly winter air. She hadn’t been to his place yet. Her pretty being all over his house seemed like a brilliant idea. It made him want her more.

Harry never wanted a girl the way he wanted her. For him it was always a one-night stand at their place, so he had the freedom to leave. They knew what they signed up for. But she invaded every little part of his mind. Thoughts of camera flashes and smiles. His picture on her fridge. The picture she texted him of herself that he saved as her contact photo. Her wearing Niall’s jersey. The cookies she made for her neighbors. Her rundown car. Her piece of shit ex.

“Would y’want t’come t’my place? I’ve got a pond out back.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Harry,” she admitted. Her voice was quiet, but she made direct eye contact with him. She always did, even if the conversation was difficult.

He frowned. “Why?” He asked.

“Because... you’re... you.”

“What’s that mean?” His eyebrows pulled forward as he tried to think through her logic before she said it.

“It means...” she looked at the ceiling like the answer would appear there. “I am not going to be seen with you at your place when you’ve never brought a girl home.”

He blinked. “How do y’know that?” She shrugged but busied herself with her camera taking pictures of the bench. She took Harry’s gloves from him and put them in a specific place. He felt utterly annoyed when he realized why she might have known. The frustration came over him before he could stop it. “Did your stupid ex tell you ‘bout m’reputation or something? Is that it? S’why y’don’t let me in fully? Y’think m’a piece of shit too?” He asked quietly. It sounded a little too accusing. He didn’t mean to. But it was unfair. Plus, he thought they were friends. The kind of friends like he was with Niall.

Because honestly, Harry didn’t think he could be good enough for her. Maybe he was projecting what he felt. She deserved a good boyfriend who would be able to devote all his time to her. She didn’t deserve someone that got a crummy five months to be in a relationship who had to worry allthe time about him because he had never had a steady girlfriend before.

She brought the camera from her face down to rest against her stomach on the strap around her neck. Once more, she looked him straight on. It was intoxicating. Brave. Beautiful, of course, always.

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit, Harry Styles,” she said very clearly.

He blinked. “You don’t?”

“Why would I think that? Because you sleep with women who clearly want to sleep with you? You’re entitled to whatever you want with whomever you want as long as they fully consent, Harry. I don’t really give a shit. I just refuse to date a hockey player because an actual piece of shit cheated on me for who knows how long which I did not consent to. It’s obvious you’re charming, talented, intelligent, and very handsome,” she paused briefly, took a deep breath. “Any girl would be lucky to have you, Harry Styles. I just won’t be her.”

She brought her camera back to her face. She seemed unaffected by his stunned expression. He swallowed and it felt like a rock was in his throat. “That was an awful lot of compliments, Bunny,” he hummed. She continued taking pictures, but Harry saw the way her cheeks turned another shade of red under his gaze. He leaned closer towards her. “You think m’handsome?” he teased.

“A blind person would know you’re handsome, Harry. Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Charming?”

“Are you getting off on this or something? Is your ego not big enough?”

“I just didn’t know you thought that ‘bout me. I thought y’jus’ kinda tolerated me and m’overbearing presence.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why would I hate you?”

“No reason.”

But he answered too quickly. It was the reason that hung in the air over and over. She turned from her camera and caught his gaze again. “You’re nothing like Kael, Harry. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that you were,” her voice was extremely gentle, like she was speaking to someone with a baby napping in the room. It made him feel all over. Every cell in his body vibrating with emotion.

The breath he released was more relieved than when he found out he was being drafted to the Chargers. Harry wanted her all over his house. Wanted her in his room and not even for sexual reasons. He just wanted to see her there after any game. Wanted her to wear his jersey. Teach her to skate better. Hang any of her photographs in his house like a museum paying tribute to her talent. More than that he wanted pictures of her in his house—so many pictures of her.

*

On nights when the team had curfew because of early morning practice or a game the next day, she did not of course. Harry broke curfew almost every single day after learning where she lived. He asked her to move in almost every time he followed her home ensuring she got home safely in her crappy car.

You shouldn’t break curfew. You’ll get a big fine. Marc and Michael keep an eye on my arrival.

It’s fine. I have the money.

Harry was territorial about her and especially her safety.

Look, I don’t want to be weird, but we’re friends... Evander said you... had plans tonight with someone...

Harry wanted to kill his teammate. Who? He tried for the funny remark so he wouldn’t lose his fucking mind at the thought of her thinking about his late night hook up.

You’re ridiculous.

Making sure you get home safe is more important than having an orgasm.

...

Sorry, FRIEND. Thought we could talk about orgasms.

R I D I C U L O U S

😇

Go puck yourself Harry.

God, you’re hilarious Rookie.

Good night, Harry. Thanks for worrying about me. It’s... actually kind of nice.

Yeah, of course. Good night, Rookie.

Harry didn’t have plans that night. Not unless pining over his coach’s niece in the privacy of his own bed was a plan.

*

Charlie was currently taking his anger out on the guys, which was extremely unfair because they had no idea it was because of her. She wished she could have been surprised. Instead, she quietly took pictures, feeling bad for their poor lungs. They were breathing hard and heavy as they struggled with the conditioning drill.

“Five minutes!” Charlie snarled.

They all collapsed on the ice in their spots. Players on the bench were slumped and moaning in pain and they were already on a rest. She glared at her uncle holding two six-pack water bottle carriers as she stepped onto the ice. She nearly slipped twice. Harry didn’t even move to help her, which meant they were in really tough shape.

“Thanks Sweetheart,” Asher heaved.

“Coach, is something wrong?” Niall asked, chugging his water. Off to the side of the rink Callie was throwing up into a trash can. A quiet ‘pussy’ came from an equally green-looking Lang. Only Niall could get away with asking because he was the nice one of the group. But even still, Uncle Charlie silenced him with a glare.

“He’s mad at me and taking it out on you,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry guys. Uncle Charlie, can you stop punishing all hockey players on my behalf?”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he shook his head once paying no mind to the team that was half dead on the ice before him.

She sighed heavily. “You’re being mean, Uncle Charlie. It’s not their fault!”

“It’s the reputation they’ve given the game,” Coach Wheeler agreed.

“What reputation?”

“Uncle Charlie is mad he picked me up from my apartment. He’s not keen on where I live.”

“It looks like a meth lab.”

“My apartment is not a meth lab.”

“You have a drug dealer living on the first floor.”

“Michael is super nice! He watches my car and—”

“Jesus,” Niall murmured. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t even bother, Horan. I tried everything. She is insistent, she doesn’t want a single hand out from anybody. Which is why you’re all paying the price. What kind of asshole makes someone as sweet as her—”

“Uncle Charlie, can we not air my relationship out in front of the whole team?”

“If we’re doing suicide sprints because of fucking Kael Crowe I want to be moved to the Lightning,” Callie groaned referring to the minor team affiliated with the Chargers. “What the hell, Coach!? Take it up with Crowe!”

Exhausted agreements resounded from the ground. “You all better treat women with respect. There is zero tolerance for it,” Coach Wheeler grumbled.

“Sweetheart, do something please,” Lang begged standing to where Callie was previously, vomiting promptly into the trash.

“Uncle Charlie, can you cut them a break? They didn’t cheat on me.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Asher moaned. “Permission to cross-check when we play him?”

“Permission granted,” Uncle Charlie shrugged.

“Jesus,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. Harry was still breathing hard, but surprisingly didn’t say anything. She was certain he would have something to say about Kael or her stupid choice. Everyone seemed to.

“First one’ll be for you, Sweetheart. Second one’s for me,” Asher winked.

“Why’d he pick y’up?” Harry asked quietly. It was interesting, it was the first thing he said after all the time spent trying to remember how to breathe. It was like he already knew the answer. He also didn’t rat her out for knowing beforehand about where she lived. Although she suspected he knew the punishment would be far worse if Charlie found out that Harry knew where she lived and said nothing.

“Car wouldn’t start,” she shrugged handing him a bottle of water. “It’s a piece of shit, but it’s all I can afford,” she admitted quietly. The conversation was just for the two of them. “I’m on a budget,” she reminded him.

Harry liked how open she was with him. When she told him and Niall that she couldn’t skate and that she got nervous about it, it was vulnerable in a way he didn’t expect. He liked how she said she wouldn’t date him (even though it broke a piece of him) and still managed to compliment him. Each time she mentioned she wasn’t swimming in cash made him feel like she trusted him. He thought of her cold apartment, her used skates, and her broken down car.

It was a shame she wasn’t going to like him as much after her next comment.

“Coach, if I let her borrow one of my cars while hers is in the shop, can we call practice early? I’ll drive her to and from games. Won’t let her out of my sight until she’s safely in the building.”

“I’m not convinced it’s a safe building.”

“Jesus Christ, Sweetheart, where are you living?” Niall sighed.

When Coach said the name of the building and the street just into the bad side of town, everyone moaned again. She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s the right price and no one bothers me. I use you all as a threat.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Callie groaned. “Coach, we’ll take shifts, anything. Make it stop,” he begged. Lang returned from throwing up in the trash can and took water from her.

“I don’t need shifts of you guys watching me,” she rolled her eyes. “No one bugs me, they know I work for the team and that I could have twenty scary hockey players there in a matter of minutes.”

Harry smirked. It was obvious he liked the sound of that. “Coach?” Harry prompted.

“Harry, I’m not taking your car, for God’s sake!”

“Oh you don’t have a choice, Sweetheart,” he snorted.

“Uncle Charlie! You’re not getting one of your players to babysit me!”

“Then you’re responsible for their lungs bursting.”

She pouted, glared at her uncle, and marched off the ice. Snagging her camera from the bench as she did. It was childish, petty, and made her look like an idiot, but she was too mad to care. Harry sighed. “Coach, she’s a grown woman... y’could have at least asked her if she was okay with that...” Harry reminded him. Charlie leveled Harry with a stare.

“She’s the best person I know,” Charlie explained. “That piece of shit Crowe never deserved her. It kills the whole family that she doesn’t see her own worth. We watched her take care of him and put her life on hold for him. She doesn’t let people take care of her. Maybe because she doesn’t know how,” he shrugged. “So if she needs tough love to do that, then so be it.”

Harry followed her off the ice. He walked slightly awkwardly on his skates but found her outside one of the offices sitting on a bench, putting her items away in her bag. “You’re not giving me your car,” she grumbled.

“Rookie,” he sighed.

“I don’t need you saving me! This is just like when you yelled at Kael.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “We’re friends, right?”

She glanced at him. “...yes,” she said tentatively.

“Y’know how y’always worry ‘bout me drinking water? Making sure I eat dinner? Texting me t’make sure I get home after following y’home?” She didn’t look at him and fiddled with the laces of her boots. “Y’can ignore me all you want, but s’what friends do. We care ‘bout you and want t’do all the nice things y’do for us.”

It looked like she was piecing together what he was saying. But not fully wanting to accept it. “You’re really going to let me borrow your car?”

He smiled.

“I guess I could... have a skating lesson... assuming your car is at your house?”

Somehow, he managed to smile wider. “Yeah, Rookie? Great... I’ll go change and tell Coach. Be out in a minute.”

“Don’t be weird about it, Harry. I don’t want anyone to think you’re my favorite. Because you’re not.”

He chuckled. “Sure thing, Rookie.”

*

Harry hurried to her side of the car and opened the door when they arrived at his house. She grabbed her stuff from the back—it was everything she had to pull out of her car and toss into her uncle’s when he picked her up. Harry grabbed his duffle bag, as well as a small bag of groceries of items she needed to make the hot chocolate she promised after the skating lesson. “M’gonna put this stuff away and sharpen your skates,” he said holding the pair by the laces tied together as he opened the door. “Here’s the key if y’want t’throw your stuff in the car,” he grabbed it off the hook near the doorway and then headed further into the house. With the key in hand, she headed back outside and unlocked an extravagant car she would never be able to afford. Sighing, she put her stuff in the trunk, locked it, and headed back toward the equally luxurious house.

To be fair, it wasn’t a mansion. It was a nice home. It was clear Harry took great care of it—or paid people to take great care of it. Following the sound of something scraping against the blade, she found Harry in his kitchen, sitting on a breakfast bar stool at the island. The kitchen was stunning. Marble countertops, white backsplash, black hanging light fixtures, white cabinets with black hardware. There were green curtains in the window. The appliances were all black. It belonged in a magazine. It was practically pristine.

The only thing she found interesting was Harry’s sink was filled with dishes. The dishwasher looked clean, it was open and completely full as well. How many dishes did a person living by themself have? She spun the key on her finger as she approached him, setting it on the counter. “When’s your birthday?” He asked randomly.

“February eleventh,” she blinked.

Harry smiled that really beautiful way of his. The one that made the dips in his cheeks deepen. His eyes seemed brighter. “S’near mine.”

“I know.”

“You keeping track of me Rookie?” He was full-on beaming.

“No, but I added everyone’s birthday to my calendar after Ray’s. Figured I would make treats if I had the time,” she explained. “I remembered yours because it’s in February like mine.”

“Can’t y’jus’ let me believe y’like me?”

She ignored him. “How do you do it?” She asked pointing to the skate.

He held the little tool out to her—a little rectangle with a space for the blade to slide between. “They don’t sell skates unsharpened, even used ones. So they’re already pretty good, but I feel better doing it myself. I wouldn’t want t’put y’on skates I haven’t ensured were good to go,” he explained and waited until she lined up the blade with the tool. “Jus’ stroke the blade in the same direction a few times. You’ll feel a little resistance. S’how y’know it’s working. The duller the blade the more resistance you’ll feel.”

“Like this?” She asked making sure she didn’t mess up her new skates.

“Yup, that’s good,” he monitored the motion.

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly.

“Course, Rookie. S’what friends are for,” he shrugged simply.

But it wasn’t that simple. Kael would never sharpen her skates for her. Wouldn’t even offer. It’s why she basically stopped skating—didn’t bother to continue because he didn’t care. He never asked if he could help teach her. There was no way he would willingly give his car to her either or offer to follow her home from a game. Most of the time they were at the same arena he didn’t go home with her. In case he wanted to go out with friends.

She felt the emotion building in her throat because she knew Harry had plenty of options. But she didn’t want to be an option. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. Honestly, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just wasn’t... the right time. She was too broken and fucked from her ex. Harry was too talented and charming to deal with a steady girlfriend and he shouldn’t have to. He was young, handsome, and had ample time in his career and life to have fun before he settled down.

“Ready?” He asked interrupting her sad thoughts. Harry was sweet—really sweet. The kind of sweet she always wanted Kael to be. She shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of how nice it would be to be Harry Styles’ girlfriend. It wasn’t going to happen. He replaced the guards on her blades. “Pond’s out back,” he told her gesturing to the back slider that led to a porch.

“Your house is beautiful,” she told him.

“Thanks, Rookie, love,” he smiled. “Mum was insistent it be my first investment,” he explained.

“Smart lady.”

“The very best,” he affirmed.

Nope, she wasn’t going to fall for a man who was kind and adored his mother. Not one bit.

The back deck overlooked a decent sized yard, but it was the pond that was by far the feature of it. She could picture beautiful sunsets, and she wished she brought her camera with her. There was a layer of light snow on the ground, the bare branches. It was like a Christmas movie scene. It left her a little breathless and Harry paid no attention to it. Totally used to the beauty of his own yard.

“Y’okay?” He asked over his shoulder. He noticed her pause as he continued walking toward the little pond. Harry kicked his boots off and put on his skates while sitting on a little wooden bench. They weren’t the pair he wore at the rink. These looked a little more worn in and scuffed. Well-loved, was the best description. He laced them quickly and expertly. It must have been second nature to him. With the guards still on his blades, he stood in front of her. “Put these on,” he handed her a pair of socks from his sweatshirt pocket. They weren’t the ones he bought her, which meant they were either his or another set he had bought her just for the occasion.

Nope. Not falling in love with him. Not at all.

“Your backyard is beautiful,” she said. “I wish I had my camera.” She untied her boots and stuck her feet in the skates. Almost immediately, Harry carefully hoisted her left skate between his thighs. He held her foot in her new-used skate (with the guard still in place) and tied the laces tightly.

“I can grab it after the lesson,” he offered and worked on the laces. “S’that feel good?” He asked. “Or is it too tight?”

“No, I don’t like my ankle to move.”

He chuckled. “Y’want it t’move a little, Rookie.”

She shrugged while he tied the other skate. Once done, he pulled the guards off and held his hands out for her to take. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about how large Harry’s hands were and wrapped around hers so easily. They were warm and comforting. He bent and took his own skate guards off. “I know y’can skate a little, so I don’t want t’push you,” he headed for the ice. “Jus’ do what feels comfortable.”

She barely skated at the rink. Skating on a pond seemed like a bad idea. Sitting on that little bench watching Harry? Maybe taking pictures of him as she did? That seemed like a good idea. Comfortable, to his point. “Is the pond deep?” She asked tentatively.

He frowned and waited at the very edge as she stood just off the ice. “Bunny,” he hummed gently. “I would never let y’get hurt, so no,” he promised. “S’not deep. S’very safe,” he assured her. “C’mon,” he held his hand out. Tentatively, she took it. Fortunately, she was used to him holding her elbow while she walked or skated around.

“Harry, I really don’t want to embarrass myself,” she warned.

“M’not going t’make fun of you, Bunny,” his voice didn’t have any teasing in it. Harry was dressed in a pair of black pants and a gray sweatshirt. He looked cozy and pretty as always. His voice was too soft and made her feel safe. Which wasn’t a bad thing except for her heart. “Jus’... take little steps. M’not going t’let you fall.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that it was too late for that.

She listened, taking small steps. Harry skated backwards while facing her, holding his hands out for comfort but not holding onto her. “You’re leaning too far forward, Rookie. Y’want t’keep your weight over your skates while y’step. S’going t’change a bit when y'take your steps but s’what you’re trying to maintain,” he explained. He watched her feet as she adjusted to what he said. “Don’t stare at your feet,” he offered kindly. “I know s’hard, but it’s tough on the balance,” they glided silently for a few minutes. “Y’okay,?” he asked glancing at her face. She nodded. He smiled gently. “Okay,” he took hold of her hands again and tugged her gently. “When y’stop, just tilt your foot inward just a little,” he used his own feet to demonstrate. “You’re doing great, Rookie,” he promised. “Feel easier on the figure skates?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s definitely easier to balance.”

He grinned, excitement covering his features and all she had done was take fifteen little steps or so. “Okay let’s keep going. We’re jus’ going t’focus on keeping y’comfortable today. Getting used to the balance and stopping,” he continued facing her and skating backwards as he pulled her.

“How do you skate backwards?” She asked.

“You gotta walk before y’can run, Rookie,” he chuckled knowingly. She rolled her eyes.

“I meant you, Harry.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been skating m’whole life.”

“Since you were three and before you could walk?” Most every hockey player she knew had the same story. Skating was more important than walking. It was romantic in a way. A first love of sorts. Harry seemed no different in that respect.

He nodded with a shy grin. “Something like that.”

“You’re very graceful.”

“You’re so forthcoming with the compliments today, Bunny. S’nice,” he pulled her toward him. She wasn’t really skating since Harry was just guiding her, but it felt nice to be on the ice without fear of making a fool of herself. “Try stopping.”

“I’m supposed to be skating not stopping Harry.” He smirked and looked at her pointedly. So she executed her little stop and Harry’s smile brightened.

“Lovely, Rookie. Do you want t’try on your own?”

“Sure,” she sighed feeling defeated before starting but it was the only way she’d get better. Harry let go of her hands but stayed the same distance from her (which was no more than five inches away). She took little steps moving at a glacial pace. She really wondered how she could have been using the wrong skates for so long. It felt so much safer and easier to be on the figure skates than it ever had been on hockey skates.

“You’re doing great, Rookie,” he assured her. She felt embarrassed because she was in her late twenties and Harry was treating her like a child. Not his doing, though. It was in her head it felt that way.

But they skated for a while quietly, just listening to the gentle cutting of the blades on the ice. Harry put his hands out just in front of him as a gentle reminder he was there, letting her have the comfort of grabbing him if she needed.

Naturally, her toe hit a divot in the ice at that moment which made her lose her footing. Harry snagged around her waist quickly to keep her upright. “Whoops,” the entire front of his body was pressed to hers. “Y’okay?” She nodded, not wanting to think about how nice Harry was and how warm his body felt. She pulled away as quickly as she could once she regained her footing. “The ice doesn’t get resurfaced like the rink,” he admitted shyly. Like it was his fault.

“You don’t own a Zamboni?” She gaped. “I can’t believe it!”

He chuckled, moving away from her slightly. She couldn’t believe how much colder it felt even though he only held her for no more than forty seconds. “Do y’want t’keep skating?” He asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. Because honestly? She didn’t want to leave just yet.

*

Eventually, they got off his little ice rink. She didn’t fall thanks to Harry catching her two more times around the waist. Each time she sent an electric current right through her heart. He was gentle, kind, and encouraging. Imagining him doing the same thing with his baby niece made her ovaries ache so much she had to think about anything else.

“Did you have a dinner party?” she asked pointing to his sink.

“No,” he sighed. “I jus’ hate dishes,” he shook his head.

“Do you want—”

“Don’t you dare,” he glared at her and headed down the hall toward another room. She smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to make hot chocolate with a mess in the sink,” she called.

“Don’t make it then!” He sounded far away. She couldn’t believe he stayed at her tiny little apartment when she could hardly hear him from a few rooms away. “We can go out t’get some or we y’can jus’ stuff from the dishwasher, Rookie. But don’t touch the sink!”

She rolled her eyes and shifted, through the clean dishes, pulling a sauce pan from it. Harry returned with a bag. “Can you get me chocolate chips, sugar, and cocoa powder? I don’t want to dig through your cabinets—what’s that?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Y’can go through the cabinets,” he shrugged. But it was starting to feel a little too domestic. Now they were at Harry’s house which meant she was done for. At least when they were at her place, she wasn’t subject to the overwhelmingly intoxicating scent of Harry. He found the ingredients and placed them on the counter. “Open it,” he shrugged.

It was a large bag from the pro shop at the arena. She peered in and then looked up at him. “Harry.”

“S’not a big deal, Rookie. Don’t make it a big deal,” he suggested. “What do y’need for whipped cream?”

Inside the bag were jerseys. Langford, Calloway, Asher, and Styles. Her heart felt too warm. Her eyes stung a bit over the thoughtfulness yet again. Skates, jerseys, socks. Harry was too sweet. He wasn’t fighting fair. “Sugar, vanilla, and heavy whipping cream...” she mumbled. Swallowing the emotion she felt, she opted for a joke. “No Horan?”

“He already got his turn,” he grumbled slightly bitter.

She looked at the jersey brushing her fingers over his last name. “It’s too much, Harry.”

“I get a discount,” he shrugged. “On behalf of the team, throw out all your Glacier Wolves stuff,” he grabbed the next set of ingredients and eyed her from across the kitchen island. “What?”

“Even the sweatshirt I’ve worn so much I’ve got it to maximum comfort?” He pressed his mouth into a line and stared at her pointedly. “Alright I’ll throw it out, you’re so bossy.”

He smirked and turned to the stove, turning the dial to light the burner. “Okay Rookie, time for my lesson. Show me how t’make hot chocolate.”

*

It felt like Harry was becoming her very best friend, which scared her. Kael took up so much of her life it left her very little room for friends. The friends she did have... ended up not liking her and talking behind her back. “Hey Rookie,” Harry smiled entering the locker room to drop his stuff for game day photos. “Ugh,” he sighed looking at her jersey and the smile melted.

“Hi, Harry,” she waved with an impish grin.

“Hi Sweetheart,” Asher greeted. “You look beautiful today,” he cooed.

“Shut the fuck up, Asher!” Harry yelled from the other side of the door. Asher winked at her and headed inside the locker room.

“He’s so jealous,” Callie shook his head. She smiled, shook her head, but she could feel her cheeks heating up with color. “Nice jersey, Sweetheart!” He shouted, no doubt enjoying his number on her this time. Only she knew that Callie would be more extra about it than Niall ever could be.

“You can shut the fuck up too,” Harry growled from near the door.

“He must not think I look beautiful,” she laughed quietly.

“Oh Jesus,” Lang snorted filing inside.

“What did she say?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Lang chuckled.

“Those are fighting words, Sweetheart,” Niall chuckled heading in after his team.

After the game day pictures were posted to the appropriate social media outlets, she headed inside the arena. She filed down to her spot near the other media. She smiled and waved to people she had been chatting with regularly. They all greeted her as if she was a real media presence and not just the coach’s niece with a camera.

She took a few pictures of the empty ice adding it to her mental portfolio of this sports series she was looking to do. It was peaceful for a moment, the images forming in sequence, her ideal lighting. The way everything would come together to tell a story. It was something she was really excited about—

“Hey, baby.”

She didn’t turn immediately. Surely, she misheard. Her body felt a wave of anxiety run over it. She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn. For several seconds, she focused on her breathing and nothing else. A minute. She just needed a minute to collect herself. Turning slowly, she smiled politely.

“Kael.” His feet were on top of the seat in front of him. Some of his teammates were milling behind, a few rows back of him. He looked relaxed and uncaring of how fucked up it was that he was there. Coming up to her while she was alone. “You guys are in town early,” she stated.

He nodded, standing up and heading to her. She busied herself by inspecting her pictures making sure they looked okay on the screen. Her hands were shaking. Not because she was worried about what Kael might do but because she was angry. Kael was her least favorite person and he made her uneasy because of all the fucked-up things she let him do to her. “Nice jersey. Sleeping with Calloway?” He asked, sweeping his hand across the top of her back. It made her want to crawl out of her skin.

“No,” she clenched her jaw. She wanted to leave as little to the conversation as possible. But she couldn’t. Because Kael didn’t own any part of her privacy anymore. Part of her wished she was sleeping with Callie if only to rub it in his face. But she couldn’t pretend that any more than she could say she didn’t have a crush on Harry. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Right, sure...” he smiled slowly. “You look beautiful, baby. Even in an ugly jersey.”

She loved this jersey so much. The only jersey she would love to wear more than Callie’s, was Harry’s. Not that she would ever say that. “What can I say, orange and blue just wasn’t my color,” she shrugged. “And Kael? Stop calling me baby.”

He put his hands up. “Just wanted to say hi... I’m in the area today... tomorrow and the following day, too... thought you might want to catch up.”

“Sweetheart!” Uncle Charlie called.

She turned looking at her uncle, Ray, Callie, Niall, and a couple of the younger players staring at her from across the ice. “That’s my cue,” she said making her way back the way she came.

“You work for the team?” He asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yup.”

“Good old Uncle Charlie helped you out?” He wondered.

“Uh-huh.”

She walked around the edge of the ice noting every pair of eyes of The Chargers following her.

Kael followed her as well. “Do you want to get dinner, love?” He asked.

“I have to work tonight; thanks though,” she said over her shoulder wishing she could have cut across the ice. It would have been nice if she could have shown him that she could skate a bit now.

No thanks to him.

“What about tomorrow after the game?”

“Working again,” she shrugged.

“Lunch?”

“Busy.”

She was much closer now to her uncle and the guys. Their gazes felt warm on her, so she looked at her camera as she walked.

“C’mon, baby. You’re the one that wanted to talk.”

“To get my stuff back, Kael,” she sighed without looking at him. God she wanted to be done with the conversation. Why couldn’t he take a hint?

“Technically it’s my stuff.”

Ugh. That would do it. She spun on her heel. He was right behind her so now they stood only inches apart. This was the guy she seriously saw herself marrying because they had been together for so long. She was going to have children with him. So many days and nights spent at his arena wearing ugly orange and blue. Taking care of his every need and not asking for anything in return. All the other things that she didn’t even want to think about let alone speak into existence. Putting her life on hold for him because he deemed himself more important than her hobby. Now, he was going to continue holding her stuff hostage? Just for some weird power trip?

No. Not anymore.

“I don’t want anything you bought me, Kael,” her tone was biting. Teeth clenched. “I want my stuff back.”

He snorted. “Then go to lunch with me, baby,” he grinned sweetly.

“Hey Kael, we need her for pre-game pictures,” Charlie came up behind her putting a hand on her shoulder gently. She shrugged it off, she was independent, goddammit. She didn’t need her uncle or a hockey team to defend her in front of Kael. He already thought she was weak. She didn’t need to prove him right.

“I am not negotiating for my stuff,” she told him, her tone still angry.

“Sweetheart,” Charlie grabbed her shoulder a little more securely.

“Hey Charlie, sorry. Just trying to catch up with our girl here,” he smiled charmingly at her uncle. She rolled her eyes and marched around Charlie, toward the tunnel back to the locker room. “Tell Callie he’s a lucky man, baby,” he shouted.

“Fuck you Crowe!” Callie was immediately moving toward him as she pushed past. “You’re a piece of trash!”

“Hey!” Ray yelled. The other players yanked him back and away from one person who could fuck up the simplest of things with just a couple words. Kael smiled walking back the way he came. Like he didn’t cause a scene or anything.

*

Callie got three penalties in the first period. Lang had to talk him down because he wanted four. But that would have been bad for the team, and they weren’t even playing Kael.

Harry was fuming, bouncing his knee as he sat seated in front of his locker. “I hate that stupid prick,” Callie growled. She was seated on a chair outside the locker room looking at her camera. It didn’t seem to bother her much that Kael was around. Or maybe she was just continuing to be brave. It was kind of hot the way she stood up to him outside the ice rink. He wished he had known. He would have loved to have punched Kael. He was lucky Harry didn’t hear until he heard Callie yelling.

They lost the game one to nothing. No one blamed Callie because the goal wasn’t even during his penalties nor when he was on the ice. “I can’t wait for the game tomorrow,” Asher sighed. “Still allowed to cross-check?” He asked looking at Charlie and Ray.

Ray shrugged. “If you must.”

Harry wanted to strangle him. The moment he heard one of the younger players say Crowe’s name, he wanted to run to her, shove her behind him, and punch his stupid fucking face. “Harry?” Niall asked quietly from beside him.

“Yeah?”

“You good?” He asked.

“Yup,” he nodded.

“Look, he’s just trying to get a rise out of her,” he explained. “Maybe you.”

“He doesn’t know I like her,” he mumbled.

“You do like her?” Niall chuckled. “I knew it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Everyone decent?” Her voice called.

Harry perked up hearing the voice of the sweet girl he was falling for rapidly by the second. She entered holding a hand over her eyes. “You’re good, Sweetheart,” Lang assured her.

“Bummer,” she muttered dropping her hand. Harry smirked despite how mad he was as a quiet chuckle sounded throughout the room.

“Gross, Sweetheart. They’re my players,” Charlie shook his head.

“Well, you and I have the same taste in men then, Uncle Charlie.”

Another round of laughter. “You okay?” Charlie asked leaning against his office door.

Harry was staring, Niall beside him staring as well. The whole team was watching to be fair. “Yeah... he was just... hovering, signing autographs and stuff...”

“Fuck him,” Callie growled. She glanced at him briefly. Harry wanted to kill him for getting her attention today in the form of his jersey on her. It shouldn’t have been such a concern for Harry, but it was. He liked her so much and it was so unfair he wasn’t good enough for her. At least he was the one that bought the jersey for her.

“It’s not a big deal,” she shrugged looking anywhere but someone else’s eyes.

But it was a big deal, Harry was fuming in his seat. His leg still bouncing.

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head.

“Sweetheart, if—”

“Can someone walk me to my car?” She asked.

“I can!” Callie chirped.

She frowned. “Callie, really, any other day. But... with the jersey—”

He frowned. “I hate Crowe.”

“Join the club,” Charlie said.

She sighed. “I’ll walk you out,” Harry quickly tossed a sweatshirt over his practice shirt and a pair of sweats on over his compression shorts.

They didn’t speak as they walked to her car. Harry’s car. She put her belongings in the back seat. “I took the night off. I’m pretty exhausted,” she told Harry leaning against the driver door. “So you don’t have to worry about me.”

But he did. Because it seemed to be the only thing he did. “Oh. S’nice,” he murmured. “Are you… do y’want company or are y’jus’ going t’bed?”

“Probably just bed,” her voice was tired. “Maybe Marc and I will watch a game so he can study.”

At least there was one man in her life he didn’t have to be jealous of. “Well, we have an early curfew anyway,” he mumbled. “Do y’want me t’follow y’home?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Rookie,” he gave her arm a squeeze. “Let me know when you’re home,” Harry ushered her into the car and let her go on her way. He headed back for the arena feeling fairly defeated. But at least she was safe.

*

Eliana lived close by and expected very little of Harry. She was a nice person. She was a nurse at a local hospital and had hours that lined up with Harry’s every so often.

Harry was a fucking mess.

“Are you okay?” She asked

No. He wasn’t. He wanted the pretty photographer. Wanted to know she was home safe. Wanted to go to her apartment and wake Michael and Marc up and murder them for not protecting her when they said they would. Even though she was in all reality probably fine.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m gonna go,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “It’s not you.”

She smirked. “I didn’t think so, Harry. I hope you’re alright.”

 “Jury’s out.”

She rolled her eyes, pulled the covers up to her neck. “Just lock behind you please.”

Harry tried calling her. Not even caring how ridiculous he was. He was past the point of caring. He couldn’t even sleep with someone else, and he’d done nothing more than hold her hands or her elbow. He refrained from cuddling her at their sleepover beyond feeling the heat of her body while she slept.

Harry had called her every hour since he walked her to her car. Hopefully she was just asleep. She did say she was exhausted. Maybe if he drove by and saw her car, he would feel better?

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. He couldn’t follow her like that. It was different that first time. He never intended to follow her into her apartment building. His rationality left him because he was so worried about her. Now that he was okay with her living arrangement, he didn’t want to look insane.

A drink. One drink and he would be home by curfew. Something to take the edge off. Make him forget about his worry.

Harry parked in the first available spot at The Locker Room. He waved to the regulars, said hello to some fans, and headed to his usual table. Force of habit. “Hey Harry,” Louis smiled bringing Harry a drink. “Didn’t know you were coming in; she figured you had curfew.”

He tilted his head at Louis, his thumb pausing on her name in his message threads once more. “Hmm?” He hummed. “She’s... here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Louis pouted slightly. “She’s been here since five,” he hummed like it was obvious.

“Hey, Louis!” She called from the other room. Her voice hitching slightly in alarm.

Why would she lie? Louis raced to the other room. Harry followed quickly because the apprehension in her voice was enough to bring all his worry immediately back to the forefront of his mind and he expected the worst truly. Because she didn’t seem to be very scared of anything. She lived in a seedy part of town and worked with violent hockey players.

So what could be in the main room that would make her sound so worried? A drunk guy who was getting into it with another person? A handsy guy who thought she was pretty? A girl who didn’t like her decision to cut her off?

None of his thoughts had considered it might be Kael. Who had her wrist pinned to the top of a table, his hand wrapped tightly around it keeping her in place.

Harry’s vision turned red.

She gaped meeting Harry’s gaze. “Oh fuck,” she whispered.

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Part 2: Hurt

A/N: ahh back at it again hi. I really hope you guys like this one. Im a little anxious about what to do after, but eager for yalls feedback! Let me know what you think!!!!!

Word count: 2.6k

Part 1

Fall 2019

“You should let me pick out your outfits more often.” 

He’s sitting on her bed in a t-shirt and dark blue shorts with his arms behind his back. He has a small smirk on his face because he loves to see her all shy and out of her comfort zone. 

“Harrrry, you know I hate this stuff! Why are you torturing me like this?” Twirling in the mirror and looking behind her back to see the outfit in whole. She would never have picked this out, but she kinda likes the idea of him dressing her. She would never let him know that though, of course.

“Because you look pretty when you’re dressed like that. Plus your butt looks good, Annie.” Harry whistles. She throws a sock across the room and manages to hit him square in the face. His giggling tells her he’s not offended. She walks out of the bathroom to greet him in her room. His sock covered feet are swinging and dangling off. He’s dressed before her since he said he has plans in 30 minutes. Ana skips over to meet him and lets herself fall in between his legs, his arms wrap around her to hold her up. Her head falls against his chest and says something but he can’t hear. 

“Can’t hear you pretty girl.” He sings. Harry takes her head in his hands and it pushes her cheeks together. Finally making eye contact with him, she tells him that she’s too nervous to go to this book market alone. 

“It’ll be good to get out of your comfort zone,” he smooches a wet kiss to her nose and she shakes her head, “and to make friends.”

Ana pushes herself off of him and walks back to the mirror. She’s been at University for 3 months already and the only friend she has is him. She wishes she could be more outgoing, but would rather spend her nights in her dorm than to be out partying, like her dear friend Harry. Still lost in her train of thought, Harry comes up behind her and lands a soft kiss on the back of her head. 

“Why can’t you come with me? We would have so much fun together!” 

“I wish I could, sweetheart. But I have big plans tonight, I already told you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, big secret blah blah.”

“You’re gonna have a good time, I promise. I want you to have fun. I want to see you later though, so call me when you get home.” With a wink and a quick swat to her butt, he opens the door and slips out. Ana’s cheeks turn a deep red and she puts her fingertips to her mouth, thinking about what transpired earlier. Her ass is still a little sore.

Ana heard about the book market through her creative writing class. It’s basically a book swap for all the students on campus and a way for them to meet new people and make connections and counts as extra credit that she desperately needs. She ends up trading three books with some dudes she recognizes from her Calc class and finds herself having a good time.

As she picks up a book, Ana hears a squeal. “Oh my gosh, I LOVE that book!” She quickly turns around and ends up dropping her belongings. 

“My name is Penny,” the ginger girl yells and rushes to pick the fallen items for her. Penny points to the tall dark haired girl next to her, “and this is my friend Jess.” Ana returns a smile and introduces herself. Maybe making friends wouldn’t be so hard. 

After talking with the duo for ten minutes, she learns that Penny and Jess are both first years like Ana and they realize they actually have a lot in common. All first years, book lovers, and hopeless romantics. The book market finishes around 5 pm and the trio walks out together shoulder to shoulder. Ana pulls out her phone to shoot Harry a text, letting him know she’ll be going to dinner with her new friends and for him to stay with his friends. He replies with a thumbs up and a hundred exclamation points after which makes her smile.

They decide to go to a diner not too far from Ana’s dorm and it wasn’t too packed. Jess flips open the menu back and forth before saying “I dont know I’m kinda feeling chicken alfredo.”  Penny smacks her menu against hers and laughs saying her meal was basic. 

“Yeah, okay miss chicken parm.” Ana jokes back. All three girls are laughing when their waiter comes to the table and announces himself.

“Hi ladies. My name is Alex and I’ll be serving you guys tonight.” All girls quickly hush up and make quick eye contact with each other. The three of them finish ordering before Jess squeezes Ana’s hand from across the table. 

“He was totally looking at you dude! And he was flirting!”

“Noooo, he was not. He was just being polite!” Ana is full on blushing and pushing her hair behind her ear. She was sitting with two beautiful girls and she was no near their kind of pretty. There’s no way he could have been interested in her.

“Oh hush up. He looks like a school boy in love. You should definitely get his number.” Penny is looking at her with soft eyes and Ana can tell she was being genuine. She sips her strawberry lemonade and ignores the girls’ comments. She’s not really interested in pursuing their waiter anyways.

“I’m sorta already seeing someone else.” she blushes and begins to spill her complicated love life with Harry. She’s not sure if she considers him to be her boyfriend, but she for sure knows they're more than just friends. They spend every other night in each other’s dorms and not just to sleep. Ana has never been more satisfied in bed with any other person than with Harry. And not even just sex, he makes her laugh, he makes her smile, and she trusts him. She’s almost in love with him, but the only thing stopping her from professing her love is the fact that he might not feel the same way. 

Jess asks if Ana’s ever told him how she feels. She shakes her head and laughs “He probably doesn't feel the same. Let’s pretend I just went out and told him I liked him, yeah? And then he says he doesn't feel the same? I’d die. I would literally die.”

“You’ll never know unless you try Ana.” Penny sings. “I mean, it sounds like he likes you?”

“Or screw them both! Being single is fun! You deserve to not worry about who does or doesn't like you. You're young. Act like it.” 

“Damn, Jess, laying it on thick.” Ana laughs but keeps the words in her head.

Thankfully, they move on and finish their meals talking about their classes. Alex comes around with the check and tells the girls to have a good night, ending with sending Ana a wink. She for sure saw that. She picks up the check and her mouth opens.

“What? Is it a million dollars?”

“No, he left his number. “ Penny shuts up and her eyebrows shoot up. “No way!”

The group gathers their leftovers and walk out of the diner on the way to their respective dorms.

“It was really nice to meet you guys.” Ana gushes. “I hope we can hang out again.” 

“Oh we had so much fun! Of course we’ll see you again!” Penny pulls Ana into a hug and they rock side to side. 

“Pen, jesus.” Jess laughs out and pulls her friend off. “I have a feeling we’ll be best pals for life. You have our numbers and socials. I’ll text you when we get to our dorm.”

Ana gets a few steps in before she hears Penny yell, “And call that boy! Or tell the other boy you love him!” 

“We’ll see girl!” Ana laughs her off and walks away with a good feeling in her chest. She went out of her comfort zone and it paid off. And she got someone’s number. Who woulda thought?

She moves the crumpled receipt around in her pocket but can’t bring herself to actually fantasize about a new boy in her life. She really likes Harry. She’ll talk to him tonight, she decides. Excited to exclaim her crush, she has a pep in her step. Some loud rowdyness in front of her brings her out of her thoughts. She sees a few frat boys ahead of her seemingly drunk. 

“Bro, you do not have more bitches than him! He’s like - he’s like every girls’ dream here!” The boys are pushing each other and yelling apparently about who has better game.  “Harry is fucking someone like every other week, you can’t touch him.”

Suddenly, she freezes.

Harry? There has to be at least 1,000 people named Harry, so surely it can’t be him. 

“Nah, he has that Annieee girl he’s always with. Pretty sure they’re dating with how much he talks about her. ” She’s feeling a little queasy because one, these boys think Harry and her are dating and two, he’s having sex with all these other girls? 

“Annie’s just the side chick bro. He told me he’s still fucking a girl at least every other weekend. He’s with one tonight!”

Disgusted. Gutted. Is this a joke? Her Harry? Sleeping with other people? Every other weekend? Why hasn’t he told her? If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve said something. Of course she would’ve been a little hurt, but she would’ve understood. They were friends, or at least she thought they were. All those nights with her and countless times she’s opened up to him. Now this has her rethinking everything. 

Ana rushes home with tears running down her face and grabs all of the things that remind her of him. His rainbow cardigan he left this morning just in case she was cold. His purple toothbrush he leaves with how much he stays over. All of his socks and boxers. His blue nail polish he wears because he thinks it makes him edgy. Everything is shoved in a box and thrown to the side. She knows it's dramatic but she's hurt. She catches her reflection in the mirror and stops to glance at herself. She knows she’s somewhat pretty, but her face falls a bit at the realization that she wasn’t good enough for him. All the sweet things he’s whispered to her has been a lie.

She spots the diner receipt from the restaurant and zeros in on the phone number. Alex is a guy who thinks she’s pretty. He didn’t know anything about her, but saw her face and thought she was worth knowing. Fuck Harry. She doesn’t need him. She should be looking for men who actually like her and aren’t wasting her time. Ana quickly puts Alex’s number in her contacts and is about to send a quick text when Harry’s contact pops up and takes over her screen. Fuck fuck. Ana pushes the button on the side of her phone repeatedly in efforts to stop the call. He calls again and again and she begins to get annoyed. Dude, get the hint. A fast knock on her door has her head turning fast. 

“Annie, it’s me” She hears Harry call out. 

She holds her breath and stays still in hopes that he thinks she’s not home. 

“I have your locationnnn, I know you're in there” he sings. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters. Well, here goes everything.

“Hey, why didn’t you answer? What’s going on, why are you crying?” Harry puts a hand out to her face but she quickly puts a step back. His hand retreats and hurt laces his face.

His face is begging her for an answer, but she can’t bring herself to speak. This was someone she cared about, someone she was close to being in love with. Did she mean nothing to him? All those nights shared together made her feel stupid. How could she be so blind?

“What do you want?” 

With a dry laugh, he asks her what’s going on. “Why are you upset? I thought the book swap went ama-”

“Where were you tonight?” Ana manages to look him in the eye. She wants to be able to see his face as he attempts to lie to her. 

“I was out with friends. Annie, why are you crying?”

She blew a breath out and quietly spit out, “You sure? You sure you weren’t fucking someone?”

That shocked him. His eyes were wide and mouth slightly open. With a shake of his head, “Annie, no, please, what are you talking about? Who told you that?”

“You’re a liar,” she choked. So much for not crying in front of him. “You’ve been here lying to me, making me think you actually liked me. Every night not spent in my bed, you were in someone else’s. How many friends with benefits do you have? How many others do you lie to?” 

Ana puts her hands up in defeat. “You know what? I don't wanna know.” She quickly steps back into the room and rushes to shut the door. 

“Babe, please you have it all wrong. Let me explain!” His voice is muffled through the door and she puts her back against the wood. She can hear his ragged breathing as he tries to plead with her. 

“Let me explain,” he repeats, “It’s not what you think.”

Her heart tightens and she’s feeling a whirlwind of emotions: betrayal, anger, heartbreak. She feels like she could hate him, but a small part of her wants to believe him. To believe he actually could love her. 

“Why should I?” she finally says, voice trembling.

“I would never lie to you, Annie. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.”

Ana lets out a hollow laugh. “So you’ve been meaning to tell me you’ve been whoring around? What I heard was true?”

There’s silence, but she knows he’s still there. She can hear his breath hitch.

Finally, he speaks, his voice quiet. “Can I come in?”

Her chest feels extremely heavy hearing him in pain. She’s aching for answers, but knows if she saw his face, she would cave. 

“No.” 

A hard knock which she assumes is his fist bumps her head forward. 

“You have it all wrong, just let me explain. I need to see your face.” 

“Please leave, Harry. I don’t want to see you.” She forces herself to stay strong and gets up to lock the door. 

A heavy silence follows. Ana presses her forehead against the door, eyes shut tight as if that could block out the pain swelling in her chest. She hears him exhale sharply, his hand dragging down the wood between them.

“Annie…” His voice is strained. “Please, don’t do this. Just let me—”

“I said leave.” Her voice is firm this time. She won’t let him weaken her resolve. Not again.

A long pause. Then the sound of footsteps retreating. The ache in her chest tightens. She listens, waiting for the finality of his departure - but nothing comes. Just the eerie quiet of the night pressing in. She replays his pleas in her head. He didn’t deny her accusation. 

A knock, softer this time, makes her flinch.

“Annie, if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

Her throat tightens. She should want that, shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t she want him gone after everything?

But the weight of those words presses against her ribs, because she knows Harry—knows the way he means things. He’s not saying it as a threat. He’s saying it because it’s the truth. If he leaves tonight, whatever this was is over.

Ana grips the doorknob, her fingers trembling.

Should she believe him? Does she let him explain? Or does she choose herself for once?

The choice sits heavy in her hands.

And then—

She turns the lock.

[lunaharrygurl]

“First - Check In”

(“First” itself can be read here - this can be read as a standalone, however.)

dom!harry x you

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: dom/sub dynamic(s), age gap (seven years - Harry’s older), slightly mean dom!harry, spanking, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), slight anal play, angst, unprotected sex

Plot: After disobeying Harry while out at a dinner event for his job, he wants to properly punish you when you get home.

(Read over this only once for editing, so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me! It’s late and my eyes are closing on their own. Haha.)

✺•✺•✺•✺

“Thank you for driving us, Leo.” Harry had your hand securely in his as he shut the backdoor to the car you had taken to and from his work event this evening.

He was upset with you. That much was clear as his demeanor had been stone cold from the time he had snapped at you in the back hallway of the venue - away from the others so they couldn’t hear. You and Harry had been seeing each other for a little over six months now, and although you had acted out and received proper punishment in the past, tonight was different. It was the first time you had actually seen true anger behind his eyes. After he had gotten onto you about your behavior, and the two of you had returned to the table with his colleagues, you went quiet. You actually hadn’t uttered a word since then.

Harry’s hand slipped from yours as you started up the steps to his house, and once he unlocked the door and stepped into the foyer, you remained on the porch with a tight jaw. He hadn’t realized that you remained behind as he went straight for the bar cart in the corner of the room - pouring himself half a glass of bourbon. As he sipped at it, he turned around and expected to find you standing on the rug in the middle of the sitting room, but instead he saw you right outside the doorway.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern as he walked over to you with the glass of caramel liquor still in his hand. “Come inside. Now.”

Without changing your expression, you stayed where you were, and you watched as Harry’s jaw oscillated from side to side before he finished up his drink. He set the glass down on the small table by the door that displayed a vase with flowers all while keeping his eyes on you.

“You wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of Leo, would you?” 

It didn’t get past you that his driver was still outside in the car, but you knew that he would be gone soon enough.

Not another word fell from Harry’s lips when you didn’t move, and he quickly reached forward before you could fully realize what was happening. The environment around you was soon upside down given that he had thrown you over his shoulder. Your hands clung to the back of his suit jacket for stability, even though you knew he would never drop you, as you heard the sound of him locking up the door. With one arm around the back of your thighs, he lifted his other hand to give you a pop on your bottom which caused you to let out a squeak of surprise.

“You really are just asking for it tonight,” Harry muttered as he walked the two of you into the bedroom. 

Once he kicked the door shut, he soon made his way over to the end of the bed. As much as he wanted to just toss you down onto the mattress, he still wanted to be gentle with you, so he carefully lowered you down to sit. He took a few steps back as his eyes wandered over you in the deep red gown that you had on - the color matching his tie.

“Take off your panties.”

Placing your palms down on the plush surface beneath you, you rolled your shoulders back and held your chin high while staring him right in the face. “I’m not wearing any.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the growl that erupted from Harry’s throat as he stalked over to where you sat. You knew that not wearing underwear would probably set him off as well, however, in his mind, that was small in comparison to how you had already disobeyed him. Harry threw you over his lap without hesitation, and you soon felt the cool breeze of the room along your core once he pulled the material of your dress up to bunch it around your waist.

The way his palm cracked down against one of your cheeks was harsher than earlier, however, this time you didn’t let any noise escape. You knew that you were to be silent when he was dishing out punishment unless you wanted it to continue for hours. That was one thing about Harry - he had incredible restraint when it came to giving into you. His cock could be rock fucking solid and he would still make you squirm for however long he saw fit.

“I’m going to give you ten on each cheek. I don’t want you to count them out, but keep track of them in your head. I’m going to stop at a certain point, and I’ll ask you how many you’ve been given. If you give me the wrong answer, I’ll start all over. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded while keeping your eyes on the wall in front of you - chin nestled into his soft comforter.

As Harry’s punishment started, you did as you were told, and you did your best to keep track of the numbers in your head. It was harder than you anticipated as your eyes slipped shut - the painful pleasure starting to take over your body. He stopped a little over the halfway mark as a shiver traveled down your spine - nestling right in your lower abdomen.

“How many?” Harry asked as he gently caressed the globes of your ass.

“Twelve,” you choked out with tears in your ears. You always got like this when he spanked you. It felt overwhelming at times, but you loved it, and he knew you did as well. If he thought at any moment that you weren’t enjoying it, he would stop. You also knew to use your colors properly given the first experience you ever had together.

“And do you know why I’m punishing you tonight, Y/N?”

You knew exactly why you were getting spanked tonight, and why it was double what he gave you last time. While at the event, you were finding it hard to keep your hands to yourself. You had a couple of glasses of champagne, and for some reason, that always made you a little horny. From under the table, you had tried to run your palm over his clothed cock more than once. 

The first time you tried you could tell he thought it was an accident. He had just reached out and placed your hand back in your lap after lacing your fingers together. The second time he was starting to catch on, and his palm wrapped around your wrist - giving it a firm squeeze before dropping it on the bench seat between the two of you. But the third time…the third time was when he told his colleagues that the two of you needed to excuse yourselves and he dragged you into the hallway. He reprimanded you as appropriately as he could in public, but you knew he really wanted to drag you into one of the bathrooms and pull your dress up then and there.

“Because I wouldn’t stop trying to touch you under the table - even after you asked me to stop.” Your voice was small as you answered him, and now that the buzz from the champagne had worn off entirely, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

“That’s right,” Harry stated as his soft movements stopped, and you bit back a moan when he delivered another slap to your ass. “And as much as I love feeling your hands on me, you know better than to act that way among my associates. We were at a formal event, Y/N, and I gave you plenty of chances to change your behavior.”

“I know, sir. I’m sorry.”

Usually you wouldn’t apologize to him until after your punishment was completely finished, but you couldn’t help it this time. You really did feel terrible that you had caused such a scene, even if those around you really didn’t know what was going on. The last thing you would ever want is for Harry to feel ashamed of you, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had driven him to that point tonight.

“And I appreciate that, but you still have a few left. Now stay still and be a good girl.”

It was a little under a minute more that Harry’s hand finally stopped, and you breathed out a sigh of relief knowing that it was done. You felt him lift you off his lap just the slightest bit - followed by the sound of him undoing his belt buckle.

“Now turn yourself around and put your mouth on my cock.” Harry’s hand reached out and tangled itself in your hair, and when you moved to face him properly, it caused your locks to wrap around his palm. 

As you took Harry’s tip past your lips, you heard that delicious groan of his that he always let out at the first bit of contact you would have with his prick, and it caused you to press your thighs together. You brought a hand up to keep him in place at the base before sliding up and down his length.

“That’s it, little doe. All the way to the back.”

That nickname, the one that Harry knew was your absolute favorite, passing by his lips was an indication that his anger was easing, and that you were going to start dabbling in normal play. The tips of his fingers caressed your scalp as you lowered yourself all the way down his shaft - allowing the head of his cock to curve down your throat.

Harry’s hips bucking up caused you to gag, but he was quick to pull back and give you some time to breathe.

“Sweetest mouth I’ve ever had wrapped around me, you know that? Such a good girl when you want to be. You just have to be put in your place sometimes, hm?” Harry’s other hand reached out to run down your back, and he smoothed his palm over one of your reddened ass cheeks. 

You hummed around him as you had already started to take him deep again - running your tongue over the prominent vein on the underside of his length as you did so. Soon a muffled moan rattled in your chest once you felt Harry’s fingertips glide through your folds. He swirled them around for just a bit before slipping two of his fingers inside of you.

The whole time you had been spanked you had been aching to be filled, and although you really wanted to be filled with his cock that was currently in your mouth, you were more than grateful that he was at least giving you his fingers. He slowly pulsed them in and out of you while you bobbed your head up and down. Eventually the two of you fell into a rhythm, and you could tell by the way Harry’s thighs were starting to jump that he would be coming fairly soon.

“Don’t even know why I’m giving you my fingers,” Harry hissed as you pulled yourself up just to suck on his tip for a while. “You don’t deserve anything tonight after the way you behaved. You’ve been acting up an awful lot lately, haven’t you?”

You whimpered around his cock when Harry smacked his fingers against your clit after slipping them out of your cunt, but you knew he was right. For the past few weeks you had been trying to get to the root of why you had been disobeying him so much. Whether it be talking back to him, or blatantly ignoring something he told you to do, you had been challenging him more than you ever have.

“Why is that, hm? Do you enjoy getting me angry? Do you like the fact that I’ve had to rub cream on your sweet peach at least twice a week for almost a month? Because at this point, Y/N, I’m at a loss when it comes to you.”

His words caused your stomach to clench, but it wasn’t out of lust. No. His words scared you. Your mind lingered on them, and they eventually formed themselves into a weight of doubt that hung heavy in your chest.

Was he getting sick of you? Would things between the two of you be coming to an end soon because you had pushed him too far?

Doing your best to force those thoughts away and just focus on the now, you started to work your hand along the bit of Harry’s shaft that you couldn’t fit in your mouth while swirling your tongue around his head. You wanted to make him come. You wanted to show him that despite going against his wishes, you still needed him. That he still needed you.

“Fuck.” Harry practically choked on the word, and you opened your eyes to see him staring straight down at you as he slipped his fingers back inside your dripping cunt. “You’re gonna make me come.”

The fact that you knew he was so close caused you to work yourself harder. It was only a few seconds later that a lewd moan passed by Harry’s lips, and you felt his thick ropes of pleasure landing on the pad of your tongue. You didn’t pull off his length until you knew you had every last drop in your mouth - sealing your lips tight around his tip so that you didn’t risk any spilling out. Once you were off completely, you swallowed his load down while still holding his eyes.

“Crawl to the middle of the bed,” Harry commanded you breathlessly while removing his fingers from you once again. “Keep your dress around your waist.”

Obeying him without question, you moved on your hands and knees until you were right where he wanted you on the mattress. You kept your head hung when he trailed his lips along the back of your thighs, and soon you felt open-mouthed kisses against your folds.

“Sir,” you whined - fingers digging into the comforter. 

You knew you were in no position to beg for more, but you were aching. Between the spankings and the fingering, you felt like you had been edged for hours when he hadn’t even brought you close to an orgasm. Everything was always so heightened with Harry.

“Quiet.” Your mouth immediately clamped shut at the tone of his voice. “You will stay right where you are with your lips closed, and you will take what I give you. The only reason why I would want to hear you is if you need to use your colors.”

Nodding in response, your toes curled in the heels that were still on your feet as Harry spit on your tightest hole. The pad of his thumb massaged against your rim which caused your eyes to roll into the back of your head - teeth digging into your bottom lip so you knew you would remain silent.

It was only a few seconds later that he began to makeout with your swollen cunt, but he didn’t let up on the carressing of your rear entrance. 

Anal play wasn’t anything new for the two of you. Although he hadn’t actually taken you back there with his cock yet, you had experimented plenty with toys and his fingers, so if he wanted to end up pushing his thumb in, it wouldn’t take you by surprise. However, you knew that he probably wouldn’t be doing that tonight. He knew how quickly anal stimulation would have you coming, and you knew he wanted to draw this out for as long as he could.

Harry’s lips sealed around your clit while nuzzling his nose into your slit. Your hips began to grind back against him, but you quickly stopped when that earned you a pinch to one of your already tender ass cheeks. He wanted to be completely in control after what you put him through recently, and he was making that more than obvious. 

“What did I say?” Tears of frustration filled your eyes upon hearing Harry speak again, and you buried your face into the comforter. “You take what I’ll give you. Stay still, and you better not come until I tell you that you can.”

His taking of your cunt continued for the next few minutes. It consisted of him speeding up so he could bring you right to the edge before slowing down, and drawing it all out to keep you from coming. Those tears that had filled your eyes were now streaming down your cheeks. Your thighs were trembling. You were doing your best to keep yourself from collapsing onto the mattress entirely. If he kept this up for much longer, you weren’t sure how much more your body could take.

It wasn’t until he finally gave you his tongue, and he started pulsing it in and out of you that you almost had to call it, but thankfully he spoke the words you had been waiting so desperately to hear.

“Come, little doe. Come for me. Now.”

Your climax consumed you entirely. Harry’s mouth worked you through it completely as you felt yourself gushing more with each swipe of his diligent muscle. Once he could tell that you had enough, he pulled himself away from between your thighs. It wasn’t even a second later that you fell onto your side - curling into yourself with your dress still exposing yourself to him.

It was quiet in the room. All that could be heard was the occasional sniff from you while you tried to recover from such intense play.

“Y/N.” Harry’s palm smoothed up your back before wrapping around the back of your neck. He massaged it gently with his thumb and his fingers as he waited for some type of response from you. “Darling, I need you to talk to me now.”

As much as you wanted to obey, you couldn’t find the words. There were so many emotions running through you.

Embarrassment. Guilt. Confusion. Lust. Euphoria.

You were completely overwhelmed.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Harry whispered as he leaned down to press a kiss below your ear. “Scaring me a little here. I want to start the shower for us, but I need to know you’re okay before I do that.”

Nodding softly, you brought your hands up - tucking them underneath your cheek as you stared back at the wall you had focused on when he was first spanking you tonight. “I’m okay. You can go.”

You knew that this was going to lead into a deeper conversation, but Harry was always one to have those once the two of you were completely out of any scene or play. 

The sigh he let out indicated that he knew you were upset, and as much as you wanted to tell him that it was towards yourself and not him, you just couldn’t right now.

“I’ll just be in the bathroom. If you need me, you call out for me.”

The bed shifted as Harry stood up, but before he walked away from you entirely, he reached out to pull your dress back down into its proper position.

Once you knew he was in the ensuite, you closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself down. You didn’t want to work yourself up even more than you already were, but you just couldn’t get out of your head. The relationship that you and Harry found yourselves in was one that allowed for disobedience occasionally. You knew it was all part of the dynamic, but this time you were worried that you had taken it too far.

You never wanted to disappoint Harry. Tonight you felt you had done just that.

If your actions didn’t cause him to leave you, would he ever want to take you to another event? Would he go on his own and leave you at his house to wait for him to return?

Thought after thought rushed through your mind, and you hadn’t even noticed that Harry had returned to get you until you felt his hand closing down around one of your calves.

“The shower should be all warmed up. I put one of those aromatherapy melts in there that I know you like so much. It’s the eucalyptus one.” You could tell he was trying to be gentle with you given your current state, and for some reason, that made you feel even worse.

None of this was his fault. It was yours.

Deciding to push through, you allowed him to help you up from the bed, and he guided the both of you into the bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror - diverting your eyes from your reflections as he unzipped your dress. Once it fell to the floor, Harry kneeled down in front of you to undo the buckles around your ankles, holding a hand out for you to take so you could carefully step out of your heels.

“Let’s go ahead and get you in there, sweetheart. I’ll be right behind you after I get out of these clothes.”

Harry opened the glass shower door for you, and he held your hand the entire time as you stepped inside. It was obvious that he was trying to search for your eyes, but you couldn’t give them to him. Not right now.

Guilt continued to gnaw at you when he walked away with his head hung - stepping into the walk-in closet that was in the corner of the ensuite.

You tipped your head back to let the hot water rush over you while dragging your hands over the top of your hair. Hot showers usually helped you decompress in most situations, therefore, you were really banking on this helping you feel relatively normal again.

Once Harry stepped into the large space with you, he kept his distance just in case you weren’t ready to be so close to him again yet. You sucked in a deep breath as you took a step forward, and he knew that was his sign that he could do the same.

Harry took the time to shampoo and condition your hair, and he lathered your favorite scented body wash all over your skin. Whether it be in the bath or the shower, he always tended to you like this. No one had ever taken care of you in the way that Harry had. He was the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

Once he finished taking care of you, he sat you down on the tiled bench at the back of the shower where the steam would still keep you warm so he could get himself cleaned up as well. Your eyes wandered over his toned body as he did so, and you took the time to drink him all in.

It only took Harry a few minutes to finish up, and soon you found yourself right back in front of the mirror as he pulled one of his t-shirts over your head. You loved sleeping in his clothes. It was a favorite thing for the both of you. The fact he still wanted to see you in something of his was helping ease your nerves just a bit.

“No underwear for now. I need to put some cream on your bum,” Harry stated as he pinched your chin between his thumb and index finger. “Go lay down on your stomach for me, and I’ll be right there to do it, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, but he was quick to shake his head.

“No, darling. Just Harry for the rest of the night.”

You couldn’t tell if it was a good or a bad thing that he no longer wanted to continue the dynamic this evening, but you were in no state to question him. Without another word, you wandered back into the bedroom and laid flat on your stomach on the mattress - just as he asked.

It wasn’t long before you felt Harry straddling your lower legs, and you couldn’t help the hum that crept up your throat at the sensation of his large hands kneading at your ass. Although it was still very sensitive, he knew just how to handle it to where his touch felt like relief instead of pain.

Once the cream came into play, goosebumps broke out onto your skin from cold it was compared to how warm you had been due to the shower, but you got used to it fairly quickly.

“I need you to tell me the truth, Y/N,” Harry spoke up after a while. “Are you okay? Did I push too far tonight?”

“No.” You shook your head against the tops of your arms where you had been resting it as Harry made sure all the cream was properly rubbed into your skin. “I’m not upset with you, Harry. I’m upset with myself.”

Harry moved off of you to set the container of cream on the nightstand, and he immediately pulled you into his side with his arms tight around you once his hands were free.

“Can we talk about what’s been going on lately? Why you’ve been so disobedient? I know you can be a bit bratty from time to time.” Harry gave you a playful pinch to your hip with a soft smirk so you knew he was keeping things light. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do it for so many days in a row. I know the push and pull can be thrilling. I just need to make sure there’s nothing more happening.

“My role is to take care of you, Y/N. I can’t help but feel I’ve neglected you a bit with how long this has gone on. If I’ve missed something, please tell me.”

For what seemed like the hundredth time tonight, tears burned at your eyes again as you stared up at the man you couldn’t see yourself living without. You tried to think of the best way to answer him, but there was a nagging voice at the back of your mind that was telling you every choice of words was wrong. And if it was going to come out wrong, then you risked losing him entirely.

“I-I don’t know,” you croaked out, and Harry clicked his tongue against his teeth as sympathy flashed through his eyes.

He pulled you in closer, something that didn’t even seem possible with just how tight his hold had already been on you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Try and explain how I can help,” he pleaded. “Is it something I need to change? I’ll do anything for you. Anything.”

You nuzzled your cheek against his bare chest as your arms looped under his own so you could rest your palms against his back.

“It just feels like a lot lately. My emotions around you have been so heightened, and it’s like I don’t know what to do with them.” You hoped this would make sense to him, but you weren’t sure if it would considering that it hardly made sense in your own head. “It’s like…I want to please you, but I also I want to disobey you all in the same breath.

“I know that either way I’ll have your attention. I guess maybe that’s what it boils down to. Maybe I’m growing too needy. I just want to feel you touching me all the time. To have you looking at me all the time. And on Sundays, when I’ve parked up my bags, and it’s time for me to go, I don’t want to leave.”

Harry’s fingers stroked through the back of your damp hair as you spoke, and it stayed silent for a while once you finished what you could only refer to as nervous rambling. You figured he was soaking in what you said, and trying to figure out the best response before continuing the conversation.

“You know, there’s something I needed to tell you tonight, and I was a bit hesitant. But with everything you’ve just said, I think I need to do it sooner rather than later.”

It was like the world stopped as the words fell from Harry’s mouth, and you felt heart sink into the pits of your stomach.

This was it. You had screwed up so much that he was finished with you. This was the end of everything you had ever wanted because you couldn’t handle your own emotions.

Your bottom lip trembled as you finally willed yourself to look back up at him. “I’m sorry.” Your chest jumped while sucking in a deep breath to try and keep your impending sobs at bay. “I-I didn’t mean to push you this far.”

As you went to move out of Harry’s arms, his brows narrowed and he held you firmly in your spot. “Where are you trying to go?”

“To get my things,” you hiccuped. “So I can leave.”

Harry’s confused expression dropped, and his lips parted as his hand tangled itself into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Do you want to leave me, Y/N?”

“Don’t you want me to?”

For the first time in your time together, you watched as Harry’s eyes glossed over. He shook his head while his arm tightened around your waist, and he moved his hand from your hair to cup your jaw. “I never want you to leave,” he said while just barely hovering over your lips so he could still hold your eyes. “I love you, Y/N. That’s what I wanted to tell you. And if I heard what you were saying correctly, and I interpreted it right, I’m pretty sure you love me too. I think that’s why you’ve been the way you’ve been. You haven’t even realized exactly what it was yourself.

“But that yearning you feel to touch me all the time,” he continued as he slipped his palm up your bare back - underneath the t-shirt you had on. “To have all my attention be focused on you. That’s what happens when you love someone. I feel the same way when it comes to you. I hate when you leave here after our weekends together. You don’t know how many times that I’ve almost been the one to drop down onto my knees - just so I can beg you to stay.”

One thing was for sure, your heart was no longer in your stomach. It was now settled right back in your chest as it rattled against your ribcage.

Was Harry right? Was love what you had been feeling for so long, but you just didn’t know how to label it?

“You…you love me?” You stammered as you held the sides of Harry’s neck in your hands. “You really do?”

“I really do,” he assured you. “I love you so fucking much. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

A small sob managed to escape as you dropped your forehead to rest against his. “I love you too, Harry. I love-”

You were cut off by Harry’s mouth sealing down over your own, and you instantly moaned with just how hungry, and intimate, it already felt. Your hands roamed over each other’s bodies before you moved yourself to straddle his waist.

There had been a few times in your relationship that you had been on top, but not many. You enjoyed being the one underneath Harry more often than not. You liked having him be the one in complete control, but tonight, you wanted to feel him underneath you instead - at least for a little bit.

Pulling back from Harry’s lips, you trailed your fingers down his chiseled torso before wrapping them around the waistband of the sweatpants he had thrown on. You kept your eyes on one another as you pulled them down just enough to free his already hardened cock, and you wrapped your hand around it almost instantly.

Your other hand moved so you could reach the hem of your t-shirt, and you lifted it up to expose your naked core. Setting yourself over Harry’s length, you began to rub your wet cunt over it - both of you gasping out at the sensation.

The two of you hadn’t gone without a condom yet. It wasn’t like either of you were completely opposed to the idea of it, it had just never come up. Tonight you weren’t sure if you would be satisfied by having him in any way but bare inside of you.

“Can I…” You trailed off as you still held eye contact, and Harry gave you a nod while kicking his sweatpants the rest of the way off.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Let me feel all of you.”

Without a hint of hesitation, you pushed yourself up further onto your knees so you could properly position Harry’s tip at your entrance, and soon you were sinking down on top of him.

“Oh,” you moaned out while throwing your head back.

You couldn’t believe it, but without the barrier, Harry felt bigger inside of you than he ever had before.

“Christ.” Harry’s voice came out as whimper while he gripped to your hips - making sure to keep your shirt tucked up so he could see your cunt swallowing him whole.

Once you gathered yourself, you placed your hands on Harry’s chest for stability as you started grinding over him. He was hitting you so deep - legs quivering from just how good it already felt.

“Look at you,” Harry praised as you went to move your hands back so you could cup over his knees, but you were quick to tear the shirt of your body in the process. “You are so stunning. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever had wrapped around my cock.”

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you rode him in a way that had your lower abdomen starting to jump within seconds - a clear indication that your orgasm would be hitting you fast.

Leaning up to have just a bit of space between your chests, Harry tilted his chin down so he could spit right on your clit, and he dropped his hand to rub tight circles against the sensitive bud.

“Harry,” you mewled as your moves became sloppy. “You’re going to make me come so hard.”

Harry’s other arm wrapped around your lower back to keep your stabilized and upright, and he started to rock his hips back up against yours. “Let it go, Y/N. I want to feel you soak me.”

You cried out as you spasmed around his length, and it was everything you could do to not just collapse right against his chest.

“That’s it,” he said as he started to slow his movements against your clit. “Such a good girl, darling. Almost had me coming already too.”

Once you had come down a bit more, Harry flipped the two of you over without even slipping from your cunt, and he was quick to start thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he panted as you locked your knees up against his hips - hands finding their home on his biceps. “I could fill you up like this every day, you know that? God, I wish I could. I want to. Need to feel you around me every goddamn day, Y/N.”

His confession had you feeling like you were truly on cloud nine now.

You ran the tip of your nose along his jawline before kissing down the side of his neck. “I want it too. I want to wake up to your head between my thighs every morning, and I want to fall asleep with you inside me every night. You don’t know how badly I would love that, Harry.”

“Move in with me,” Harry blurted it out before his mind had even registered the thought, however, he didn’t let up on fucking you. “I-I know we’ve only been together for six months, but you said your lease was up soon, and I…fuck.” He had to pause for a moment to once again keep himself from coming.

He couldn’t help it. The vision of him taking you anytime of the day, on any surface in his house, had him almost blowing his load before you had even given him an answer.

“I told you I almost beg you to stay every time you leave. If you moved in, we wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Smiling up at him, you leaned up to connect your lips in a passionate kiss as you nodded. “Yes,” you giggled. “I’ll move in with you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I don’t know how I lived without you for so long.”

“The feeling is mutual. Trust me.” You captured his mouth for another kiss. “But I’d deal with every rejection I ever had a million times over if it meant we would always find each other in the end.”

Harry delved into you even deeper so his pelvis massaged right against your clit, and you whimpered as you felt another orgasm quickly approaching.

You focused in on the way one of Harry’s curl hung perfectly against his forehead. The way his abs rippled as he rolled his hips up against yours. The soft grunts and moans that passed by his heart shaped lips when his tip would nudge right against that perfect spot inside of you.

“Tell me again.” Your nails dug into the skin of his arms.

“I love you.”

Your third climax of the night ceased your breathing as every single part of you felt the overwhelming pleasure Harry had provided you with. You weren’t sure how long it had been before you finally sucked the air back into your lungs, and you met Harry’s eyes once again.

“Fill me up,” you begged. “I want to feel it. Claim me.”

And for the first time in your relationship, as Harry buried his face in your neck and you scratched down his back while he spilled his come inside of you, you realized this was sex between two dedicated lovers. Right now you weren’t a submissive and he wasn’t a dominate. You were just Harry and Y/N. Two people who just found out that the person they were insanely in love with loved them back with the exact same force, and that had you tingling all over.

Harry lifted up after he properly caught his breath, and he used the tip of his index finger to move your hair out of your face - a large smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” he said tenderly.

You didn’t need to ask why. You knew why he was thanking you. He was thanking you for everything.

“Thank you,” you whispered back before kissing his top lip, and then his bottom one. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

✺•✺•✺•✺

Taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @prettygurl-2009 @ghoststyles @lillefroe @gem1712 @lemoncrushh @namoreno @mellamolayla @idklilili @angeldavis777 @michellekstyles @freedomfireflies @triski73 @daphnesutton @harrrrystylesslut @giitterysuits @finelinepie @hannah9921 @mema10 @fruity-harry @fangirl509east @babegoals @sassamanda77 @lunaharrygurl @this-is-tiny-mia @mads3502 (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, please DM me!)

[lunaharrygurl]

really enjoyed part 1 of lucky’s!! i hope it’s something you want to continue!!🫶🏻🫶🏻

thank you sm 🥹🥹I definitely plan on posting part 2 next week!!

[lunaharrygurl]

having a birthday near the end of january is always so funny bc people usually have been posting memes for weeks about how long january is and how they need this month to be over and im like oh wait pls i just need a birthday real quick

[lunaharrygurl]

PART 1: Lucky’s

a/n: omg hiiiiiii! this is my first ever writing!!! it’s been in my drafts for months and i’ve been to hesitant to post but ugh I just wanna put it out here and get some feedback to finish the rest. pls be kind and lmk what you think!!!

word count: 2.5k

The bar looks exactly the same the last time Ana was in it. About 4 years ago to be exact. It's the town dive bar everyone’s been going to for years and was like home to her at one point. She had been feeling a little sad since she had just been broken up with from her boyfriend, Alex, of three years just a couple of months ago. She knows it’s a little pathetic to still be so depressed about the break up, but hey, she thought she found her soulmate. She thought she was happy. But she didn’t even realize her life was falling apart in front of her. She didn’t even know her boyfriend had been planning to leave her for awhile.

Anyways, she decided to say yes to going to Lucky’s to spend a night out with her best friends. She needed to let go of this sadness that’s been weighing her down and she’s been picking up too many shifts at the hospital that she needed a break. Plus, getting drunk didn’t sound too bad.

“Anaaa girl you look good!” Penny yells as Ana enters the bar with a bell ringing above her. She’s wearing a long teal skirt ending at her ankles with kitten heels and a black long sleeve shirt. Her friends, Penny and Jess stood at the bar waiting for her. She’s super grateful she has them and with how much time and space they’ve given. Without those two, she’d probably be in bed with another Ben and Jerry’s pint watching Criminal Minds.

She quickly hurries to hug Penny back, wanting her to lower her voice. “Hey Pen,” she breathes out as she lays her black shoulder purse on the counter, “How are you guys?”

“I’m fine, but this one?” Jess laughs as she points her drink to the red head, “ She got here only 10 minutes before us.” Penny’s eyes are a little hooded and has two empty glasses next to her, but she ignores Jess as she squeezes Ana tighter before pushing her out in front of her.

“I’m so glad you came! We’ve been missing you.” The smile Penny’s wearing looks pitiful. Looking between her and Jess, who also has a sympathetic sense to her, Ana ignores the comment and quickly orders her typical drink. She doesn’t look back up at her friends, not wanting to talk about why she hasn’t answered their calls or accepted their hang out requests. She doesn’t plan on talking about Alex or what happened because it’s none of their business and frankly, she’s embarrassed. Who wants to talk with their friends who are in happy relationships about being dumped?

Jess starts to talk about her new promotion at the salon and the new house she wants to buy with her husband, Jackson. Penny spills the tea on her boss at her office job. Her and her girlfriend just got a cat. Ana is thrilled with her friends’ good news and is even giggling a little loud as she manages to get to her third drink. It feels good.

Her eyes begin to skim around the dim place. Even though it’s lit with a bunch of neon signs and rusty lamp shades, it’s hard to see in front of her. She notices the vibe starts to pick up a bit from when she first walked in. Men are playing pool laughing. Women are cheering with their girlfriends. As she studies the room, her head turns to a familiar laugh. Her skin begins to tingle and she suddenly feels cold. She recognizes this laugh. She used to hear it when they snuck out of class and went to just lay together in her dorm. She enjoyed it. Her eyes finally settle on a man in the left corner by the pool table. He’s sitting with a couple of people in a four top with his back to her. He’s throwing his head back because whatever story his friend is telling must be the best yet. She must’ve been staring too long because a girl with purple hair in front of him makes eye contact with her and raises her brow. Oh my god, did she see her? Ana quickly looks away towards her drink and keeps her head down. If it is who she thinks it is,( and she’s pretty sure it’s him) she doesn’t want to talk. She can’t handle rekindling with her past just yet. Not when she’s not completely healed from her last mess. She risks another look back to assess how bad she’s been caught. The woman who looked at her last seemed to have completely forgotten about her as her neck was lowered and face lit up by her phone.

“Uh, gotta go pee, girls” she announces as she hops off the bar stool. Penny urges her to hurry because she has some news to share. “I think you’re gonna be excitedddd” she squeals.

“Great.” Ana mutters. Taking a deep breath, she heads to the back down the hallway to the bathroom. She’s a little tipsy that she has to lean on a wall or two, but she manages to find her way to the stalls fine. Locking the door, she leans her head against it and sighs.

“You're literally fine “ she’s repeating to herself. This is the first time you’ve been out in months, get a grip. She starts to laugh at how ridiculous she’s feeling. Staring at herself in the mirror, she does a little spin and feels good about her appearance. The skirt rounds her butt nicely, square neckline showcases her breasts. Despite emotionally being a mess, she knows she looks good. Leaning in closer, she presses her hands to the edge of the sink to study her makeup. Her eyes are giving raccoon, but she kinda digs it. As she’s fluffing up her curls and fixing her lipstick with the edge of her pinky, a sharp knock on the wooden door pulls her out of her vain daydream.

“Just a seeec” she sings. Even though she didn’t use the bathroom like she hoped, she quickly washes her hands since the place doesn't seem so clean. Another harsh knock interrupts her. “Oh my god, hold on.”

She quickly pulls open the door with a napkin and is greeted with the same purple haired girl from his table. Damn. She raises her brows in surprise, but quickly conceals it.

With her head down, “Oh! Uh all yours,” side stepping quickly so the girl can walk through. As the girl passes her, she looks her up and down and asks “Hey, do I know you?” Ana’s a little surprised at the question because she doesn't know her, but is sure the girl is referring to their look earlier and shrugs.

“Um, I don’t think so? Unless you frequent the hospital on Lane, hah.” Silence. God, she’s gonna die, why does she embarrass herself so often? Purple girl shakes her head.

“I saw you staring earlier. It seemed like you recognized me, or maybe someone at my table?” Okay, so she did catch her. Ana’s fully outside in the hall at this point while the girl is in the doorway of the bathroom. To her right, she makes eye contact with Jess who’s giving her a questioning look. She hurriedly waves her over before laughing at something the Pen must’ve said. Ana’s eyes manage to glaze back over to the boy at the table and his strong back. She can’t seem to take her eyes off of his body and the way he still looks the same from the last time she saw him. When he was in her bed taking care of her, rubbing her back and kissing on her -

“You were looking at Harry, weren’t you?” Right, she’s still here.

“Yeah I, uh, went to undergrad with him and haven’t seen him awhile. Just a little surprised to see him is all.” She really doesn’t need to explain any of this to this girl. But the purple girl scoffs like she doesn’t believe her.

“You can say you were staring. Everyone does. He is the pretty boy after all.” It’s good to know Harry’s is the same as the last time she saw him. She awkwardly smiles while rocking back and forth on her heels.

“That’s Harry.” She clicks her tongue and claps her hands together and looks over to Jess. “I’m just gonna…head back over to my girls so..”

But before she can turn and escape, the girl steps out the door and tells her she can put in a good word for her. “He looked back at you too, you know? I’m sure he would want to catch up” She’s… shocked. She actually can’t believe he remembers her still. But, no. That’s not what she’s here for.

“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you” she rushes out. Miss purple grabs the edge of the door, backing up. With a smirk, she says “If you say so” and shuts it.

Ana’s left to stare at the door dumbfounded. What the hell just happened? Left with no answers, she walks back to the bar and jumps up to her seat. Jess grabs her knee and squeezes. “Who was that?” Before she can reply and say nobody, Pen grabs her other shoulder to turn Ana’s body.

“Nevermind that. I have something to tell you.” Penny takes one last gulp of her drink before setting it down, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath.

“I know you’ve been having a hard time and haven’t been yourself lately. Don’t look at me like that. And I know you know but I have to remind you that we love you and we are here for you. We want the absolute best for you and we want to see you happy again.” Ana looks over at Jess to see if she knows what their friend is up to. To her surprise, Jess has a similar anxious smile on her face and nudges her head towards Penny for her to listen.

“Okayyyy? What’s the news you wanted to tell me?” Ana asks.

“Please keep in mind that we love you,” she whispers, “but we set you up on a date!”

Ana shakes her head immediately and puts her hand up. “No, Penny pleeease. Why would you do that?” She doesn’t want to say no immediately for the sake of her friend’s hopeful face, but she is less than thrilled. Jess sets her glass down and plays with a small curl on Ana’s head.

“Because,” making eye contact now “you are so incredibly beautiful and amazing and you deserve to be happy. Ever since Alex, you’ve been this mopey little child who thinks they’re nobody.” Ana winces at the mention of her ex and pulls her curl out of Jess’s hand. “Hey that was mean,” she whispers.

“I’m being honest. That’s why you love me. But Jackson has a buddy at work who’s name is Spencer and he's been talking about wanting to settle down and he’s a really great guy!He’s a vet tech at the animal hospital down on Cleary and he has a dog. He has a great family and is good with kids. And he has money!” That has Ana smiling. Her girls know that she wants to be taken care of and her taste. It’s sweet really, but she can’t.

Jess continues “but Jackson was talking about him and me and Penny thought, who better to set him up with?” Both girls grab her shoulders and say “You.”

“We gave him your number and told him to reach out to you tonight. He’s really interested. Please just give this a try?” Penny is looking at her with pleading glossy eyes. But it’s not gonna shake her. She shimmies the hands off her shoulders and scoots her chair back.

Stepping away from the bar and grabbing her bag. “Thank you both, really. I love you guys a lot and I appreciate your concern, but I'm just not ready yet. I also don’t want to be forced to do something or be with someone. Besides, it's only been a couple of months.”

“11 months.” Jess tells her. Damn, almost a year?

“11 months, whatever. I need more time and I promise that I will get back out there, but just not now okay?” Both of her friends give a knowing look to each other and sigh. Ana pushes her chair in and goes to hug them goodbye.

“Text us when you're home, okay?” Penny hugs her tight. Ana nods her head and mutters of course and moves to Jess who hugs her even tighter.

“Just accept the call. Accept happiness when it's right in front of you.” Jess tells her. Ana manages to separate from her and takes a couple steps back. She’s almost by the door when she turns around to her friends.

“Yes yes, I hear you. I’ll text you guys la-” She’s interrupted by someone bumping into her. She hears a loud ‘oops' and feels a soft grip on her arm.

“Oh my gosh I’m so...sorry” The person’s voice starts to trail out as she looks up to their face.

Harry.

There he is. In all his glory.

She hasn’t seen his face in forever. He’s grown facial hair. A lot. He cut his hair. And he has a shit load of tattoos. He looks just as shocked as her to see her and isn’t laughing anymore. Despite standing in front of each other for almost a minute, neither has said anything. He opens his mouth to say something but before he can, she bolts out the door.

She manages to run down the street and get behind a building next to the bar. Taking some breaths, she pulls out her phone to call her an Uber. In less than 5 minutes, she’s in the back of the car, buckling herself up. She can’t even believe she just saw him again. What did he think of her? Did she look the same like he does? Does he still hate her? She doesn't even want to think about what he was gonna say.

She looks at her phone and sees it’s 11:03 pm. She also notices an unknown number messaging her.

Unknown (maybe Spencer) Hey! This is Spencer. Jess gave me your number? She also told me you would be less inclined to reply to me lol. Damn Jess.

A second message rolls through.

Unknown (maybe Spencer) She also said a lot of great things about you and I would love to get to know you more. I know it's too late to be messaging you, but shoot me a text in the morning?

Ana takes a long sigh. Another situation to deal with. She doesn't want to message him and have to turn him down. She's really attempted to block him but because she respects Jess she won't.

She finally reaches her apartment and thanks her ride as she steps out of the car. She walks up the steps and pulls out her keys when she hears another ping from her phone. Is this dude messaging her again? Now she's really about to be not interested. But when unlocks her screen she notices a notification from Instagram. Pressing the icon, it says she has a follow and message request

@harrystyles: hey annie

Oh fuck.

[lunaharrygurl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[lunaharrygurl]

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.

[lunaharrygurl]

the one where YN gets a job as a bartender in a motorbike club's bar, and Harry runs the club.

author's note: suprise!! i'm back again!! i promised i wouldn't keep you waiting and i'm not. this is the first part in my biker!harry mini-series which i started a while ago and only just got around to finishing! let me know what you think and what you'd like to see in the next instalments!

word count: 11.6k of sexy biker!harry (that's it, that's all).

WARNINGS: strong language, smut, bike riding, a bar fight and talks of a motor accident.

let me know what you think of clover here!! mwah <3

1979

“Look, sweets, I’d hire you on the spot if I thought it would be a good idea,” Mick spoke from across the bar, towel over one shoulder and another in his hand drying a glass, “But it just isn’t, I’m sorry.”

YN sighed, dropping her hands down on the bar. This was the fourth one she’d tried, and so far, she hadn’t had any luck. She wasn’t asking for much – just a job to help pay for her student loans. She had graduated a year ago and bounced from job to job, and yet none of them seemed to fit. It wasn’t necessarily her dream to work in a bar, but she hadn’t a single clue about what her dream was. She had a first-class honours history degree (which she adored getting) and yet not a single idea of what to do with it.

She couldn’t think of the future at this moment, she needed to think about the now and if she wanted to continue to live in her small apartment and eat — she needed a job.

Clovers had been her last hope. It was the last bar in town that YN was yet to try, and despite its less-than-positive reputation – it was always busy, and that meant money coming in. As she turned to look around the bar, which was already quite crowded for it being early on a Friday night, she couldn’t help but imagine the cash that was funnelling through the establishment, and how she wished she could get at least some of it.

“Can I get you a drink, sweets?” Mick spoke again, offering her a soft smile, “It’ll hopefully soften the blow a little bit.”

YN smiled at the man and nodded, “Thank you. Whisky, please.”

Mick got straight to work, placing the glass in front of her, dropping an ice cube into the glass and pouring her a more than generous shot. Just as she fumbled with her purse to pull out some bills to pass to Mick, he shook his head and held his hand out to stop it. She smiled in thanks and watched as he turned and walked away, going to serve the next customer who was standing a few feet away from her.

YN picked up her drink, and just as she was about to take a drink the door beside her opened. Her lips parted, her eyes watching as a group of what seemed to be fifteen or so men, all clad in heavy leather or dark denim walked into the bar.

Of course, YN knew about them. Anyone who lived here knew who they were, but it was the first time that she had seen them this up close. The most she had ever experienced with them was the low rumbling of their engines from a distance, or possibly them riding past her but that was only ever one or two. It was their jackets that often set them apart from the rest of the riders in the town, the very specific Clover’s Riders jacket that every member adorned and what seemed like all times.

The men were loud as they stepped in, most of them heading towards the bar whilst others went to some of the other members who were already seated in the bar. YN’s eyes never left the door until the last one had made his entrance, and she just couldn’t seem to draw them away.

He was younger than many of his counterparts, probably resting at an age near YN’s or possibly a few years or so older. He was clad in the same heavy denim that many of the others wore, but they seemed to sit on his body much easier. The curls of his hair were tousled in every direction it seemed, but YN found herself wondering as to what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to her glass and lifted it to her lips. She took a large gulp of the liquid, allowing that to slip down her throat before she finished the rest of it. Mick was long gone from being anywhere near her, working at what seemed like double speed to keep up with the orders that the gang of men were giving him, and she felt as though that was probably her cue to leave. She would have to brainstorm other options for work, seeing as though this just hadn’t called through.

Sighing, YN pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushed up from the stool she was resting on. Just as she turned around to make a beeline for the door through the bodies that were crowding the room, she was stopped by a body in front of hers.

“Woah, woah, little darling where do you think you’re going?” It was one of the riders, standing in front of her with a grin on his features.

“Home,” she said with a shrug.

“So soon,” The man looked over his shoulder to some of his friends who were standing close by, “Me and my buddies here didn’t even get to say hello.”

“Right, okay, hello,” YN nodded to the man in front of her and those behind him, “Really have to get going.”

The man extended his arms so that she couldn’t carry move from her space in front of him, “Let us buy you a drink little darling, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ve already had one, thank you, and it was very enjoyable,” YN offered them another small smile, “Now please move out of my way so that I can go home.”

“Hey, none of that,” The man shook his head, “Stay with us, I promise we’ll make it worth it.”

YN hummed, tilting her head from side to side lightly, “I’ll pass but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else to make the night worth it.”

And with that, YN pushed past the man and beelined for the door. She half expected him to grab her, but from the hoots and hollers of his friends, he was too embarrassed to do anything else.

The bar that YN had worked out whilst she was completing her degree had taught her a thing or two about how to deal with rowdy men, and whilst the firm but clear approach worked in most cases, YN wasn’t afraid to resort to other means if necessary. It was all a respect thing, and more often than not if you deal back to them what they deal to you – the situation usually sorts itself.

YN had just rested her palm against the wood of the door when she heard someone call her name. She saw Mick standing there, leaning over the bar to catch her attention.

“Saw you deal with those guys,” He nodded his head over to the men whose attention had been taken by another woman in the bar, who seemed to accept their advances more than YN did, “When can you start?”

YN’s face broke out into a smile and took a delighted step towards Mick, “Whenever.”

“Right now?” He raised his eyebrows at her, motioning to the men who were calling his name for more drinks, “Have a feeling we’re going to be swamped tonight.”

YN nodded and immediately dropped her purse down behind the bar and rolled the sleeves of her cardigan up.

She turned to the men who were now staring at her with their mouths slightly agape, “What can I get you?”

It was a Thursday night and YN had been working at Clover’s for around a week at this point when Mick decided that she could handle a night on her own. After being thrown into what very much was the deep end on her first shift, there had been time the next day for Mick to show her the ropes properly and anything she would specifically need to know.

Mick said that he normally wouldn’t leave such a new person on their own so quickly, but he had an important family issue that he couldn’t get out of and that she had shown enough trust that he wasn’t worried. It was a Thursday, so it wasn’t going to be too busy but even so, those who were going to be there would be Riders, and they would protect their bar from anything.

It was nearing nine, and YN would probably say that they were at a quarter of their capacity, the majority of them being riders who had been there for the last few hours or so. YN was lucky she supposed. They never ordered anything more complicated than a beer, at most a whisky or a bourbon and this was their bar so there were never any arguments about paying for the drinks.

There was a lull in the orders, so YN decided to take it upon herself to dry some of the glasses she had washed in the previous lull. This job was not for the weak she would say that, but YN would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She loved people watching and mixed with the hum of the jukebox it was the perfect combination for her.

The door to the bar opened again about twenty minutes, and in walked that same man that caught her attention a week or so ago, on that first day she was here. He looked the same, apart from he was clad in a mixture of denim and leather this time instead of just denim, and a large bruise was sprouting from under his left eye. To YN, it was obvious that the cause was a punch, for there was nothing else that could cause a bruise such as that one. He walked into the room, ignored the hoots and hollers from some of the other men and took a seat right in the middle of the bar.

YN threw the towel she was holding over her shoulder and walked towards him, resting her hands on the edge of the bar, “What can I get ya?”

The man didn’t stray his eyes away from where they were planted firmly on the wood of the bar, “Beer, and a whisky.”

YN nodded, reaching over to pop the lid of the beer, “Do you want ice in the whisky?”

The man just hummed, so YN got straight to work making his drink for him. It was different to that of the other men in the bar — watching him. Whilst they were loud and rowdy and always had something to say to someone – he was silent. He just sat, with the company of his only himself and drank his drink.

Snapping YN out of her gaze (which had been on the man for a few beats too long) was a call of her name from just down the bar. She walked over to where it came from, a man called Taylor who YN had become quite acquainted with in the last few days or so.

Most of the men (not all, obviously) that she had become acquainted with during the last few weeks were lovely. They loved to have a quick natter with her whilst she made their drinks, some of them flirted with her but she didn’t care (it was part of the job) and nobody bothered her. If one or two of the men when they were drunk got a little handsy or started to say things which would be deemed inappropriate, the other lads would circle her and make sure she was okay. She felt safe, which she was quite surprised was the case.

“A piece of advice,” Taylor spoke over the bar as YN started opening the bottles of beer for him and his friends, “Harry over there always orders the same thing, and he’ll drink the whiskey last before he leaves.”

“Thank you,” YN nods with a small smile across her lips, unable to stop her eyes beating over to him for a second – Harry.

“He’s a quiet one,” Taylor continues speaking, grabbing a few bills out of his pocket to pay for the drinks, “But harmless, I promise. To be fair, you’d think the man who founded the club would have more to say.”

YN’s eyes widen, she had no idea that Harry was the one who founded the club. She hadn’t suspected it at all.

“He founded it?” She asked with a slight raise of her eyebrow. She wasn’t trying to pry, but there were things that she wanted to know, and Taylor already had that buzz that made her know that he would be willing to answer any questions she had.

“Yeah, it was him and a few others,” Taylor shrugged, attempting to pick up the three bottles of beer all in one go, “A few years ago now, and it only grew from there.”

YN nodded once more and watched as he walked back to his table. She put the bills that he had given her for the drinks into the register and put the tip she had been given into her apron.

There was something about that man that had caught her attention from that first day, and yet she couldn’t put her finger on it. Now, it made sense. The aura that he had when he walked into the room, as well as the way he sat and held himself – he had a strong presence in the group without even trying.

YN had more questions, but she knew it probably wasn’t the best to pry right now. Instead, she just got on with everything that she had to do. She served drinks and cleaned up after herself right up until close. YN hadn’t realised when Harry had left, but he had slipped out without a single person realising.

She hummed as she swept the floors, tried her hardest to count the cash right the first time and put it in the safe before continuing with her other closing jobs. The chairs were off the floor, as much of the stickiness in the room that YN could remove was gone and the doors were locked and checked.  

Once she had stepped outside, and locked the door to the bar behind her, the late hour catching up with her very quickly – she realised at that point she wasn’t alone.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was standing there, resting against his motorcycle with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. YN was confused but continued to lock the door and make sure that nobody could get inside. Then she turned, and that was when she saw Harry looking directly at her.

“Can I help you?” She muttered, fidgeting with the keys she was holding in her hand.

He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, holding it for a second or so before he exhaled, “Heard you were asking questions.”

YN’s heart drops slightly, heat pulsating around her body, “Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, placing the cigarette back in his mouth, “Can’t stop you from doing that, but any questions you have about me, you can ask me yourself.”

YN just pursed her lips and nodded, “Okay then… do you always stalk women when they’re leaving work?”

Harry didn’t seem shocked by her words, or react in any way to them at all, which was surprising to her. But, then again, she hadn’t seen much of a reaction out of this man this entire time she had known of him.

“Only the ones that have worked in my bar for a week.”

“Your bar?” YN widened her eyes, “Thought Mick owned it?”

Harry shook his head, “I do. Mick’s my employee, and so are you.”

“Do you not trust me or something? Think I’m walking away with pocketfuls of cash?”

“I would already know if you’d done that, and you wouldn’t be working here anymore,” YN just nodded, “But this side of a town can be sketchy at night, and you never know who could be lurking.”

YN just scoffed, turning to walk away from the man, “Thank you, but I can look after myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged, climbing onto his bike, and kicking the stand-up. YN could hear the engine turning on, the loud rumble filling the empty street.

YN continued walking, expecting him to speed past her but he didn’t. The low rumble continued down the street, even when she turned – the sound turned too. It was frustrating and annoying. All YN wanted to do was to get home, have something to eat and get in bed. Instead, she was having to deal with what was becoming an annoying rider, who couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

This continued for around ten minutes, and with each second that passed YN was getting more and more annoyed. Just as she turned onto the edge of her street, the apartment she shared with her roommate Ashley coming into view in the distance, she decided that enough was enough.

She stopped and turned around on the pavement, Harry pulling in on his bike to stop just in front of her. YN sighed and placed her hand on her hips.

“Do we have a problem?”

Harry rested his hands on his bike still, but was facing her, “No problem.”

“Then why are you following me home?” A small chuckle escaped her lips, “You know those strange people you were talking about earlier; you do know you’re acting like one of them?”

“You’re one of us now,” He shrugs, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world – it certainly wasn’t for YN at all.

“That means you follow me home?” The confusion grows with every moment in YN, and yet Harry doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried.

“You didn’t want a ride,” He pulls his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up, “Had to make sure you got home safe.”

“Right,” YN just nods, “Well, I think I can manage on my own from here. And, if I’m all of a sudden one of you should I expect my jacket in the post? Or do you do collection?”

With a final scoff, she turned and walked away from the man. This time, when the engine started, YN didn’t turn to look at Harry and instead carried on to her front door. It was only then that she turned to peer over her shoulder, just in time to see Harry speed past her and into the night.

She had an incline that this job was going to be interesting, but she had no idea just how much.

It wasn’t necessarily a normal working pattern that YN had found herself in.

Sleeping for most of the day and being awake all night wasn’t necessarily the big girl working pattern that she had aspired to when she was younger, but for the time being she was enjoying it. It did mean that when Ashley returned from her nine-to-five working as a receptionist (YN couldn’t think of anything worse to be honest), YN was just getting ready to start her day.

YN was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a half-eaten sandwich clutched tightly in her hand. She wasn’t too hungry, but she knew that if she didn’t eat something before, she left for work she would regret it later on. The second that Ashley stepped through the door and threw her bag down on the floor, she threw YN a quizzical look.

“What?” YN asked, wiping the mayo that rested on the curve of her lip off with her thumb.

“Do you happen to know anything about the smoking-hot rider staring at the apartment from across the street?”

YN’s entire face dropped, “What?”

Ashley walked over and dropped down on the other side of the sofa, reaching out to steal one of YN’s chips from her plate. Ashley seemed slightly unfazed by the newfound stalker YN had acquired, and that stressed the girl out significantly.

“What do you mean?” YN pushed herself up, making her way over to the window where there he was. Resting against his bike, cigarette resting from his lips sat Harry, staring at the front door to the building with an unreadable expression on his face,

“He’s been there since this morning,” Ashley adds to the conversation causally, running a hand through her hair which she had just pulled out of its undo, “At first, I thought he was waiting for Sandy, you know, from 2.B but then I saw the jacket and realised he must be here for you.”

“He’s not here for me,” YN shook her head, slapping the curtains shut and walking back over to her friend, “He’s stalking me, I can’t believe you’re not more stressed about this.”

Ashley just shrugged, “Worse people to be stalked by, I suppose. He’s one of Clover’s, he’ll be harmless.”

“No, Ashley, he’s not just one of Clover’s,” YN sighed, running a hand over her face before scooting around the apartment to grab her belongings, “He is Clover.”

It was Ashley’s face that dropped this time, “What do you mean?”

“That’s Harry,” YN pulled each one of her pumps on her feet, “He founded the gang!”

“You’re kidding,” Ashley all but screams, “Jesus YN, I knew I was concerned about this job, but I think you’ve done pretty alright for yourself.”

YN just shook her head. She grabbed her jacket, and her bag and made her way over to the door.

“If I go missing, you know who’s responsible,” With that, YN turned away from her friend and rushed out of the door.

She took the stairs down from her apartment at double speed, almost tripping over her feet multiple times. She pulled her jacket on just as she got to the front door. Just before she was going to push it open, just stopped and hesitated for a second. One deep breath in and out was all it took to compose herself, and then she pushed the door open.

Harry spotted her immediately, throwing the cigarette he had in his hand a few metres away from his bike, where a collection was beginning to grow. YN made sure to check the left and the right of her before crossing the road, not quite fancying becoming roadkill this early in the day.

“You’re lucky my neighbours didn’t call the cops on you,” Is the first thing that slips from YN’s lips, before she realises how stupid that sounds.

For the first time since she met him, a small smile crosses Harry’s lips. She had amused him, and oh did she want to do it again.

“You know you can’t stay out here all day,” She follows with, “I’m going to the bar now anyway.”

“I got something for you,” Harry pushed himself up off the bike and that’s when she saw it.

A denim jacket, smaller than the others that she had seen but still carrying the ever-so-known Clover’s Riders logo on the back. That four-leaf clover was known all over town, and towns for miles in every direction and now it seemed YN had one of her own. It would open paths for her but also close them as well. She knew that the second she accepted that jacket, things would change all over again.

“I don’t even ride, Harry,” She sighed, shaking her head slightly, “I’ve never been on a bike in my life.”

He just shrugged once more, “There’s always time to change that.”

YN toyed up her options, and it took a lot less time than she had thought it would to swipe the jacket from his hands. She shrugged off the one she was wearing and slipped her arms inside the material. It was the perfect fit, exactly what she would have chosen for herself. Harry beamed another smile at her and swung his leg over his bike once more.

“C’mon,” He tilted his head at her, “I have something I want to show you.”

“I’ll be late for work,” YN shook her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from throwing her leg over the side of the bike and using Harry’s shoulder to help steady herself as she got on.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry spoke, and that’s when YN realised that whilst yes, she was probably going to be late for work, she was also on the back of the owner’s bike – so the trouble couldn’t be too grave, “Hold on tight.”

YN did as the man said, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist. The second that the engine started, and Harry kicked the stand-up they went flying down the road, and she realised in that exact moment why he said tight. YN’s body lurched forward into Harry’s, her cheek resting against the leather of his jacket, and her hands tightening around him.

Once the initial fear had worn off, and YN finally peered over the man’s shoulder – she would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel in a word freeing. The wind through her hair, the chill of the speed at which she was going laced with the feeling of Harry pressed so closely against her. Sure, she had been scared but now she knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. It wasn’t a scary thing, instead, it was something to be enjoyed.

YN’s lips curled upwards, a slight giggle leaving them as she noticed they went speeding through a red light. Many, and by many YN meant most, of the riders had a back pocket full of speeding tickets, and lights that they’ve jumped and yet none of them seemed to care. It was as though all of the law-abiding parts of their brains didn’t function when they were on bikes. On second thought, even when they weren’t on the bikes the law-abiding parts of their brain didn’t function.

Harry pulled over just as they joined the road which took them out of the city. They had completely passed Clover’s, and YN hadn’t the faintest clue of how late she was for work at this point, but it didn’t matter. It would take a lot for this smile to leave her face today. Once the bike came to a stop, YN used Harry’s shoulder to push up off of it.

Harry sits on the bike, but his eyes never leave the girl. The way she almost looked like a baby deer as she got her grounding once she was off the bike, the way her hair stuck out in every and all directions, and most importantly the beaming smile that never left her face. For the first time in a long time, there were no thoughts in YN’s head. There were no worries about growing up and getting a proper job, or stress about money – it was completely and utterly freeing. She supposed that was why there were so many of the riders and she supposed they were all chasing that feeling.

“You’ve got to teach me how to ride,” She sighed, the blissful smile never leaving her lips.

Harry just nodded, “Whenever you want.”

“Really?” Her face widened in excitement.

Harry shrugged, “You’ve gotta know how to ride if you’re going to be a rider.”

YN just nodded, and almost jumped back onto the bike. Harry didn’t say anything when she wrapped her arms back around his waist, not a single gap between their bodies but it just felt so comfortable. Harry kicked the stand down once more and sprang straight into action, turning slowly around on the road before speeding up the second they were on the straight back to the town.

All YN knew was that she was going to savour the feeling of the wind in her hair.

It was another Saturday night, and it was packed in the bar.

YN was so thankful that she could stay behind the safety of the actual bar and not venture out into the rest of the room. The men had just come back from a ride, and they were all excited and loud and wanting nothing but drink upon drink upon drink. She had been there from earlier on in the day today, and when Mick showed up later in the evening, she hadn’t managed to utter a single word but hello to him since.

All she could think of was the fact that once the rush had died down, it would be her time to go home and rest. In what felt like a very long few months of working every day (at first YN hadn’t minded, but she was slowly getting more and more burnt out) it was finally time for her to have a day off. Mick had graciously said to her the other day that he could handle Sunday on his own, and those words felt like gold slipping from his lips. She didn’t have a single clue of what she was going to do with her day, all she knew was that it was going to be relaxing.

She just had to get through this night first.

At first, the night seemed fine. Everyone was in good spirits and there was nothing more than a few drunken disagreements that sorted themselves out. YN had taken that as the opportunity to make her way over to where Harry was sitting and replenish his beer while he was there. It was then that the door was thrown open, and the entire atmosphere in the room changed.

What had at first been a lovely evening had changed within the second, and it was all because of a man that she hadn’t recognised. He didn’t have a rider’s jacket on his back, and that should have been YN’s first clue that this man was going to be in trouble. This was a riders’ bar, and those jackets were almost like a rite of passage. Without one, people stuck out like a sore thumb.

It became even more obvious to YN when the man beelined straight over to where Harry was sitting. He didn’t sit and instead leant over Harry, so his focus was on him. YN stayed close, but she didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was listening. She wasn’t the only one either – she could see other riders peering over at them from where they were sitting.

“You said if I did it, I’d get my jacket,” Those were the first words that came out of the man’s mouth – not even a greeting of hello, “I did it. Where’s the fucking jacket?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a second or so. Instead, he lifted his recently replenished beer to his lips and took a swag. He was doing as he always did – taking his sweet darn time.

“I said I’d think about it,” Harry mumbles, shrugging slightly as he did, “I’ve thought about it… and no.”

The man smacks his hand down onto the bar top, the sound echoing throughout the room. It silenced everyone, and all eyes turned to the two men. YN’s eyes looked towards Mick with a panicked expression on them but he shook his head, hoping that would calm the girls down.

“That wasn’t the fucking deal,” The man spits, coming right up into Harry’s face but it didn’t seem to deter the man at all, “The deal was to drop the shipment, I get the fucking jacket.”

Harry finally turned to look at the man, his stern expression never wavering, “Do you think I want someone like you, someone that doesn’t listen wearing one of my jackets?”

The man didn’t like that response, and it seemed as though as quickly as YN could blink her eyes the man was grasping the lapels of Harry’s jacket and pulling him up from the stool. He was then pushed straight into the bar, a slight grunt leaving his lips as he did. There was the initial sound of beer stools scratching on the floor, and other Riders were reading to split the two men up but all it took was Harry lifting one of his hands and they all stopped in their places.

“I don’t want someone who’s that willing to fight one of his men wearing a jacket.”

That was all it took for the other man to make the first punch. His arm pulled backwards, and his fist hit Harry straight across the jaw. The skin immediately went red, but Harry didn’t look like a man who had just been hit straight across the jaw. The bar stayed silent, obviously waiting for whatever Harry’s retaliation was going to be.

What YN, and certainly a lot of others in the bar hadn’t expected was Harry to reach behind him, to where his empty beer bottle was sat and hit the man over the head with it. The man fell to the ground, his grip on Harry letting go instantly. Harry lifted his hand, wincing when he noticed that a shard of glass from the broken bottle had lodged itself in his skin.

He just sighed, rubbing his forehead with his uninjured hand, “Get him out of here.”

Three of the men who were watching closely immediately listened to him, walking over, and picking the man up. They carried him out of the bar and were back to their drinks in what seemed like minutes. It was as though nobody truly seemed to care as to what had just happened and were more excited to get back to their drinks truly as though nothing had happened.

YN watched as Harry threw back the glass of whisky that had sat on the bar waiting for him (courtesy of Mick). That seemed like something that YN would have to take note of. With that, he dropped a few bills on the counter and stormed out of the bar. YN watched this and immediately started to pull her apron off her body.

“Mick,” The older man hummed from the other side of the bar, “I’m going outside for a break. I’ll only be a minute.”

The older man just threw YN a look, obviously having spotted who had left the bar just before she wanted to, “Be careful.”

YN just laughed, throwing the latch open, “I’m always careful.”

The second she stepped outside; she was shocked to see that Harry’s bike was still there, but he wasn’t sitting on it. There was a slight chill in the night air, and YN looked from left to right to try and spot him, but he was still nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until YN made her way towards the alley that followed the side of the bar that she finally realised where he had gone.

It was dark, but not dark enough to miss the figure leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. YN wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to conceal at least some of the warmth from inside. As her shoes crunched on the path, Harry’s eyes turned to look at her. He was ready for it to be someone else, and it was almost as though when he noticed that it was her – his features seemed to relax.

“How’s your hand?” She asked, coming to a stop right in front of him.

He raised his palm towards her, “It’s been better.”

YN winced to herself slightly as she looked at his hand, seeing the shard of glass still sticking out of the skin. Whilst she didn’t have a first aid kit on her body at this exact moment, it was good that she knew where one was.

“Come with me,” She nodded, walking further down the alley to the bar’s back entrance.

YN didn’t even turn to make sure that he was following her, she just knew that he would be. She held the door open for him, and the one that opened to the office of the bar (where Mick spent most of his time during the day, sorting the books out) and pointed at the chair by the desk.

Whilst Harry sat down without a word to her, YN reached up to the shelf above them and brought the first aid kit down. Harry’s eyes watched her as she pulled tweezer, gauze, and some antiseptic to clean and dress his wound. It was all very silent, and still but caring.

“Can I?” She asked, checking sure it was okay to touch his hand.

Harry nodded, placing his hand in hers. To YN, she wasn’t sure if she was truly touch-starved that feeling of his hand in hers felt truly intimate. She got to work straight away, pulling the glass out with the tweezers ever so carefully before wiping the surface of the cut. Even though YN knew that it would have stung, Harry’s face didn’t show anything, only one raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” She mumbles, face still full of concentration on making sure the wound is fully clean before she wraps it.

Harry just nodded, “You see wounds like these before?”

YN nodded, “I’ve worked in bars before – of course, I’ve seen wounds like these before.”

Harry just nods, allowing YN to move his hand at her ease to ensure that it is wrapped tightly and securely. He opened his mouth once she had finished, as though he was going to ask her something, but he closed it straight away. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that he could ask her anything that he wanted to, but she didn’t want to scare him away.

“You’re all set,” She offered him a small smile.

“Thank you,” The words sort of felt foreign, but very sincere coming from his lips, “I… you didn’t have to.”

YN just shrugged, “Wasn’t going to let you bleed out – would’ve been bad for business.”

Harry offered her a small smile at her attempt at a joke, “I’m sorry about what happened in there as well… usually we try to keep those sorts of things out of the bar.”

“Harry,” His name came out of her lips softly, hoping that would be the thing to tell him that it was okay. That she wasn’t angry at him, “I know… it doesn’t bother me – I promise.”

He just nods, “I knew that, you know.”

YN furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“That first day,” He reached out to her, and did the last thing that she would ever expect – grabbed her hand, “The way you dealt with some of the lads… I knew you were different.”

“It was you…” The words slipped out of YN’s mouth before she could truly register them, “You saw me that day.”

It all made sense. YN had noticed Harry that very first day that she’d appeared at Clover, and whilst originally Mick had said no, he had changed his mind and said yes. To YN, it had looked and seemed that Mick was the one who had made that decision, and yet it made sense that it was Harry to be the one who changed Mick’s mind. Harry, if he had been sitting at his barstool would have been a metre or so away from that conversation – and he would have heard every word that had been said.

“I did,” Harry nods, claiming every thought that YN had to be true, “I saw you, the way you spoke to them, the way you stood your ground and god, YN, I was hooked.”

That was the first time that YN had heard Harry speak her name, and she was addicted. She wanted to hear it over, and over and over again. He noticed the slight shift in her and used his legs to roll the chair he was sitting on closer to where she was resting against the desk. Then he slipped his uninjured arm around her body and pulled her down to him. She straddled his knees, relishing the feeling of his body beneath hers.

“I…” Her words came out as a whisper, “I felt the same.”

Relief. That was the look on his face – it was a true relief.

“You did?”

“God, Harry,” YN giggles, shaking her head, “I tried not to, but I would be lying if I said that most of my thoughts haven’t been filled with you. Wanting to know more.”

“You can know anything,” His thumb slipped underneath the thin material of her shirt, a heat spreading across her entire body from that one single touch, “Ask me anything, everything – I’ll answer. Whatever you want to know?”

YN pondered that for a second. She could have asked him anything, and yet there was one thought which was present in her mind more than any of the others. An hour ago, this question would have been risky – she just wouldn’t have asked it. Yet, in the safety of this room – away from peering eyes, or anyone who could make assumptions as to what it meant – she wanted nothing more than to ask it.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Harry exhaled a breath, lifting his hand to rest against her cheek, “More than anything.”

YN nodded.

“Harry…” He hummed at the call of her name, “Kiss me.”

His thumb danced from her cheek, down to her lip. He ran it across the skin of her bottom lip, pushing down slightly so that her lips parted for him. The only sound in the room was YN’s heavy breathing, a response to the teasing that was on display right in front of her.

Then his face inched forward, and his lips were on hers. It didn’t take long for his tongue to slip past her parted lips, dancing with her own. This closeness to someone, the vulnerability – YN had missed it. She pushed her body forward towards Harry’s, slipping her hands in the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands, never mind the bandaged one which would have still caused him pain, rested upon her denim-clad arse. They found their home resting there, and YN wasn’t about to move them.

Harry pulled away from her lips, obviously needing oxygen as much as she did. But he wasted no time in dropping his attack down her neck, his teeth nipping the skin there. YN’s hands still rested in the curls at the nape of his neck, and heavy breaths parted from her lips.

“Harry,” She gasped as he started to suck at the sweet spot where her neck met her collarbone, “I need to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t,” He mumbled, and YN just rolled her eyes.

“I’ve deserted Mick,” She continues, “He might need help.”

“Mick’ll be fine,” He pulled his head up, resting on her chest as he peered up at her, “And anyway, I’m your boss.”

YN shook her head, “I need to go.”

Harry groaned but finally nodded, “Ride home with me?”

“Of course,” YN pecked Harry’s lips one last time pushed herself up from him and walked out of the room.

Harry’s eyes never left her the entire time.  

“Harry, no, I’m going to tip over.”

When Harry had dropped YN at home last night, he had muttered the words that he would see her tomorrow. Before she could clarify that she wasn’t working, he had sped off on his motorcycle into the dark of the night. YN should have known, though, that Harry knew she wasn’t working. It became even more clear when Ashley shouted at her from the kitchen at around midday today, telling her that her Rider was waiting for her.

Instead of the annoyance that YN felt the first time, there was a skip in her step this time. She had taken some time that morning to make herself look that little bit more presentable and waited for him. After their kiss the previous night in the office, and the slight peck that he had given her when she had climbed off his bike yesterday.

When she had bounced over to him earlier, a smile beaming on his face she didn’t have a single care as to what she would be doing that day – all she knew was that she was going to enjoy it. Even when she climbed on the back of his bike and asked where they were going – the smile never left her face. He refused to tell her, though, saying that it was a surprise.

“Harry, I don’t want to,” YN shook her head, hands grasping tightly onto the handles of the bike, “I’m going to fall off, or I’m going to crash your bike.”

What Harry had planned for the girl was to teach her how to ride. Whilst at the start YN had wanted nothing more than to learn how to ride, now that she was sitting on Harry’s bike without him there – she was terrified. Harry was standing close to her, cigarette dangling from his lips and an amused expression on his face.

“You’re not going to fall,” Harry shakes his head, “I’m right here… and I promise I won’t let you crash.”

“You can say that Harry, but you can’t promise,” YN was sitting on the bike, with her feet resting on the ground and absolutely no attempt at all to move.

He threw his cigarette on the floor, moving over so that he could wrap his arms around her waist, his hands coming to rest upon hers on the handle. He turned the engine on, and even though it was YN’s hands on the handle, Harry was controlling it. They went very slow – they had to so that Harry could walk at the side of them.

“I’m going to let go,” Harry spoke after a minute or so, but YN shook her head.

“I’m not ready,” YN pushed her body into his slightly, “I’m going to crash.”

“There’s nothing for you to crash into,” Harry peels one of his hands off of hers, “I trust you… you’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t as though he was lying. Harry had driven them out to a deserted road just out of town. Close enough away that they’d be home at a normal time, but far enough away that there wasn’t any traffic which would interrupt them. There wasn’t anything but stone and grass around them, and whilst if YN came to a haphazard stop, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing ever – there wasn’t a lot of damage that she could do to Harry’s bike.

Harry let go of her other hand, and she was doing it. Granted, she didn’t go over 2mph, but she was still riding the bike on her own. She wasn’t comfortable enough to attempt to turn yet, so she just came to a slow stop a few metres further down from where Harry was. She kicked the stand down and climbed off the bike – turning towards Harry with a smile on her face.

“I did it!” She bounced over to Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck, his coming to rest around her waist.

“Never doubted you,” He leaned down to place a kiss on her lips, pulling her body flush against his. Before anything more could happen, the sound of crunching on the road, as well as the sound of a siren interrupted them.

YN’s heart started to beat rapidly at the sight of a police car inching towards them. Whilst YN had dealt with police before working in her previous bars, she hadn’t ever been out in the open with her and only one other person when talking to them. Knowing that Harry also ran a motorcycle gang added another level of worry to it.

Harry just pulled YN with him, going to rest against his bike. He looked completely unfazed, whilst YN truly was shitting in her boots slightly. The police car stopped right in front of them, and as the door swung open to the car, Harry lit up a cigarette and brought it up to his lips – again, making it aware that he was completely unfazed by what was happening.

“Styles,” The officer sighed, slamming his car door behind him shit as he walked towards the two of them, “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Hmm,” Harry just hums, inhaling from his cigarette, “I had no idea you were even looking for me… I wouldn’t have just stood in the middle of the road if I knew.”

The officer chuckled, placing his hands on his hips, “We had reports last night that you attacked a man.”

Harry shook his head, “Couldn’t have been me.”

“It happened at your bar,” The officer took a step forward towards Harry, “Had reports that you hit him over the head with a beer bottle.”

Harry just chuckles, “Officer Thompson, I don’t have time for this he said she said bullshit. If you’ve got something to say to me, I think you should say it.”

The officer just hummed, “Where were you last night?”

“I was at the bar,” Harry nodded, “All night.”

YN started to panic from beside him, but she tried not to make it obvious. Harry must have complete and utter trust in his riders to not say anything to the police. It made sense now to YN as to why that man hadn’t been given a jacket. He had instigated the fight, and yet he had run straight to the police with it. He was a coward and a rat.

“Can anyone corroborate this?”

“I can,” YN was surprised at how strongly her voice came out, “I was there with him all night, I work there.”

The officer hums once more, his eyes dropping down to focus on Harry once more. YN realises that it’s then that the officer has spotted his bandaged hand. YN’s mind starts to spiral slightly, hoping that one of them will be able to come up with something quickly.

“What, uh,” The officer couldn’t hide the smile on his face, obviously thinking that he had found him out, “What happened to your hand, Styles?”

Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so YN interrupts. She giggles slightly, knowing exactly what type of character was going to be believable for this officer. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I’m so sorry, officer, that was my fault,” YN took a small step towards the officer, but not far enough that she wasn’t in arms reach of Harry, “See, I’m real clumsy. And yesterday, I dropped a whole crate of beer and Harry heard the crash, and he helped me clean up – unfortunately, he cut his hand in the process.”

The officer’s eyes moved between Harry and YN. There was no way at that point for YN to try and guess what he was thinking – or what he was going to say. Then, when the officer’s face broke out into a smile just the same as YN’s, she knew she had convinced him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, and I hope you have a good rest of your day,” Then the officer turned to Harry, and the smile on his face dropped, “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Styles.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it Officer Thompson.”

Harry rested against his bike the entire time, whilst YN had her arms crossed against her chest. They didn’t say another word to each other until they watched the car turn around and drive away from them. It was only then that YN turned to Harry, who was running a hand over his face. Sighing, YN walked over to him, grabbing his hands (but making sure to be careful of his injured hand).

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry shakes his head, pulling her hands up so that he can place a kiss on the back of them.

“I know,” YN nods, “But I wanted to.”

Harry rests his chin upon their connected hands, “I wanna take you somewhere.”

YN would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about where Harry lived once or twice because she had. He had been to her apartment a few times to pick her up, and whilst she hadn’t necessarily wanted to be that forward and ask him where he lived, there was a part of her which wondered about it.

It was a strange circumstance. Where does the leader of a gang live? Where does he rest his head at night? Where does make his coffee in the morning? Whilst YN wouldn’t necessarily admit it, she was an inquisitive person.  

When Harry’s bike came to a stop outside of a garage, one that seemingly had an apartment attached to the top of it – it all made sense. Yes, the bar had to be doing well, with how many people were in it daily. But there had to be another way that Harry was making money, and it seemed as though this was it. She wondered if this had anything to do with the shipments that the other man had been speaking about.

He kicked the standout and gave YN the space the climb off before he did. He walked over to the shutter, unlocked the padlock, and threw it open. The apartment didn’t look too big, but the shop itself was huge. She had expected a car, maybe a few bikes – but she hadn’t expected rows upon rows of bikes lining the side of the walls. In the middle, YN could see the different stations where Harry and some of the other members worked.

“Are these all yours?” YN asked, her finger reaching out to run across the glossy black exterior of one of the bikes closest to her.

“Most of them,” Harry shrugged, dropping the shutter closed behind the two of them after pushing his bike inside, “Me and a few others, we buy them and restore them, make them better to sell on.”

“God, Harry,” YN turns to him, an expression of what could only be described as amazement on her features, “This is amazing.”

He just offered her a small smile, taking small steps towards her until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her middle. YN giggled slightly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder as he pulled her closer to him.

“Pick one.”

The features on YN’s lips dropped again, “What?”

“Pick one,” Harry repeated, “A bike.”

“Yeah, I gathered that, Harry, I’m just confused as to why.”

He just shrugged, leaning back against the workbench near the two of them. YN turned around so that she was facing him, and Harry at once pressed his hands against her waist. It was funny to YN, to see the big, scary, gang member was so soft around her, and they hadn’t necessarily known each other very long.

“You said it yourself,” He shrugged, his hands pulling her between her body between his open legs, “If you’re gonna be a rider, you’ve got to ride. Seems like you need a bike to do that.”

“Yeah, but I’ll buy one,” YN spoke, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word, “When I have the cash for it.”

Harry shook his head, “No need, rather have you on one of these. Tested them myself, they’re all safe.”

YN just shook her head, propelling her body even further forward so that she could wrap her arms around Harry’s neck and press her lips against his. It was a clumsy kiss, with both of their teeth clashing and smiles upon their features but they did not care.

“Thank you,” She mumbled against his lips, pressing a flurry of chaste kisses to them afterwards.

Harry shook his head, “No need – pick one, baby.”

YN pushed her body up and started to walk up and down the rows of bikes until she spotted it. It was about halfway down the row, a bike with dark green glossy accents, looking nothing but sleek with the dark metal of the engine. It was the one that she wanted, and the second she was standing in front of it she knew it was hers. With that beaming smile across her features, YN turned and launched herself at Harry, wrapping her legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on the plump skin of her arse over her dark denim jeans. Even though YN suspected that she had caught him off guard, he didn’t show it on his face.

“How can I ever thank you?” She asked between a litter of kisses to his lips, a boyish smile crossing his features afterwards that YN wants nothing more than to bottle up and remember forever.

“That smile of yours is enough,” Harry nods at her, pressing another full kiss to her lips.

YN tilts her head to the side, turning to look at Harry with a slight smirk crossing her features. His eyebrows furrowed as though he already suspected she was coming up with something in her head.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Maybe…” YN starts, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, hesitating, “Maybe there’s another way I can thank you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, as though he was finally catching on to the thoughts swimming around in YN’s head.

“We don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head quickly. “I promise I’m not expecting anything from you.”

YN just shakes her head, leaning forward to place another kiss on his lips. Her hands tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I know you’re not,” YN offers him a smile, “I want to. I promise.”

Harry shook his head, a groan emitting from his lips as he tugged her even closer to him if that was possible. YN giggles at his obvious joy at her statement.

“God,” He rests his forehead against hers, “I know it’s wrong, but I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Harry turns, as though he’s going to walk out of the garage, but YN stops him. He furrows his eyebrows at her, and she just giggles once more.

“Want it here.”

“What?”

“Want it here, want you on the bench,” Harry groans once more, moving to drop her down upon the workbench that he had been rested upon earlier.

“Are you sure I haven’t dreamt you up?”

“Nope,” YN shakes her head, “I’m real.”

YN threads her fingers back through the curls at the nape of his neck, bringing his face back to hers. It doesn’t take long for their lips to connect once more. It wasn’t sweet or light. It was rough, as though both of them were finally able to do what they had both been thinking about.

Harry’s hands start to move down her body, resting on the hem of her jeans. She can feel his thumbs pressing down into the skin of her waist, and when it registers in her brain what he was trying to do YN pulls away, shaking her head.

“Not yet,” She lightly pushes his body to the side so that she can jump off the bench, “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“You don’t have to,” YN’s hands rest on the lapels of his jacket, waiting for his nod before she pushes it off his shoulders.

“I want to.”

It takes just one swipe for Harry to pull his shirt over his head whilst YN’s hands come to rest upon his belt buckle. YN’s eyes widen at the sight of his exposed chest, as well as the tattoos that litter his sin. YN knew that Harry had tattoos; she had seen the ones on his arms multiple times, but it felt different to see the ones on his chest.

Her fingers work quickly to pull Harry’s belt buckle open, working on the button and zip of his jeans next. YN drops down to her knees, pushing Harry back slightly so that he’s resting against the workbench. Harry peers down at her, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation. Her hand rests upon the grey material of his boxers, palming his already semi-hard cock through the light material.

“You like teasing?”

YN shrugs lightly, “I have no clue what you mean.”

Harry laughs, watching her intently as her fingers loop into the band of his boxers, pulling them down to expose him to her. YN finds herself unable to pull her eyes away from his cock. She knew it had to be big from palming him through his boxers but seeing it before she made her mouth water and pressure to build in the pit of her stomach.

She placed a light kiss on his tip, which was already red and leaking from his obvious arousal. YN smiled, giving it a lick from the base to the tip before she used her hand to give it a few tugs. YN was confident in her moves, even though she had only done it a few times before in her life. She gained more confidence from the moans leaving Harry’s lips; they were deep and quiet, but she could hear them, and they caused her to squeeze her thighs together in hopes that it would give her some relief.

“YN… please,” It almost sounded as though he was pleading with her to do something, and YN almost moaned at the sound.

YN wraps her lips around the tip of Harry’s cock, beginning to bob her head up and down. One of her hands rested upon his thigh, whilst the other wrapped around the base of his cock, helping her with what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her tongue lightly grazed his tip, earning a louder moan from Harry that egged her on further.

“Fuck… YN.”

Harry’s hands came to rest in her hair, helping her to move her head up and down his cock. It was a light tug that caused YN to moan around his cock, and she could feel Harry resisting from bucking his hips to meet her. Instead, she continued to bob her head, speeding up in hopes that it would help him recover from her teasing.

“YN gotta pull away,” Harry says after a minute or so, his grip on her hair tightening, “I’m gonna cum.”

YN doesn’t stop, however, instead, she keeps going until she hears him moan louder and start to cum down her throat. When she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed. She works her head up and down until he’s finished, only pulling away then. When she looks back up at him he has a look in his eyes that makes her assume that they aren’t done.

YN giggles as he puts his hands on her waist and pulls her up so she’s standing, immediately placing a kiss on her lips, seemingly not caring about the fact that his cum was on them. YN’s legs nearly gave out then and there, and she had to place her hands on his biceps to steady herself.

“Did that show my thanks?” She asked, tilting her head to the side innocently.

Harry wraps his arms around her thighs once more, picking her up effortlessly.

“Damn right, it did,” Harry starts to walk over to the door that she suspects goes into the house, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

It was quiet at Clover’s, a lull mid-afternoon on a Friday before everyone picked their spots for the night. YN had spent an hour or so cleaning and drying the glasses that had been used earlier in the day, making sure that they were to have enough for the night ahead.

The repeated motion of washing and drying gave her time to think, and more often than not, she found herself daydreaming about her morning, which she had spent in Harry’s bed, wrapped up in his arms. The two of them had been pretty inseparable before, but after he had gifted her the bike, it had seemingly gotten even worse, if that was possible. It had been weeks since that day, and YN could probably count on one hand the nights she had spent alone since then. Harry waited every night for her after work, and even when he couldn’t she would return to his house and wait for him there.

They hadn’t spoken about what they were necessarily, but that didn’t matter to YN. She didn’t need a label to know how she felt about Harry, and she assumed Harry felt about her also. For the first time in a long time YN was happy, and even though she was only a bartender and that useless history degree of hers wasn’t doing much – she wasn’t yearning for something else, for something better. YN truly felt as though it couldn’t get any better than it currently was.

The door to the bar pushed open, and whilst YN thought it was probably a rider coming in for a drink, she was shocked to see that it was Mick, obviously dropping in to start his shift. Thankfully, since YN had taken the day shift she didn’t have to stay until close tonight, meaning that she could spend more time in bed with Harry to end her week.

“Hey, YN,” She offered Mick a smile, “Just lemme drop my shit in the back and then you can go on break.”

“Thanks, Mick.”

Once he was back out, and she had passed over what she was doing to him, she made her way outside with the sandwich that Harry had made for her earlier. She was going to make her lunch, but Harry insisted that he make it for her. YN smiled at the memory of her sitting upon his kitchen counter, clad only in one of his t-shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts. They had laughed and joked and, at one point, had a break to dance around the kitchen to the song that was playing over the radio.

YN hadn’t had many relationships before, two at most she could think of, but they were never like this. They always felt transactional to YN. But with Harry, it truly felt as though they were two halves. There was a level of domesticity that YN loved more than anything with him, and every little task that they did together meant so much.

Once YN had eaten her sandwich, her thoughts filled with Harry and their morning. YN pulled her legs underneath her and began to read her book, knowing that she could get a chapter or so read before her break was over. It was a book about the Tudors she was reading, something that had been a passion of hers during her degree. It had been a while since she had read anything, but she supposed that the want came from her peace and happiness being restored.

She had just finished a chapter on Henry VIII’s Economic policy when she heard noise from the front of the bar. It was loud, and the voices that were speaking were quick, but it was muffled, so she couldn’t quite decipher what was being said. Putting her bookmark into place and closing the book, she pushed up from the chair and made her way towards the bar.

Mick was standing there, with three or four others in front of him. They looked panicked, and their words reflected that.

“Tell me again,” Mick placed his hands down on the counter, “I can’t tell a word you’re saying when you’re talking that quickly.”

“An accident, Mick,” It was Taylor who spoke, “There was an accident. We were riding along, and this truck came outta nowhere, sent him flying.”

YN moved towards them, her heart immediately starting to thump within her chest.

“Who?” Her words came out quickly, all of the men’s heads turning towards her, “Who went flying?”

“YN… I…” Taylor took a step towards her, his entire face dropping.

That was when she knew.

Her palms started to sweat, and her body felt heavy. There was a dizziness inside her head, and for one second she thought that she was going to fall to ground.

It was Harry.

“Where is he?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the tears finally starting to collect within her waterline.

“YN…” Mick started.

“No, Mick,” She shook her head, “Where is he? Tell me where he is!”

Taylor took another step closer towards her, “I don’t know. The woman in the store across the street from where it happened phoned an ambulance, I left before they came. If I hazard a guess, they’ll be on their way to the hospital by now.”

YN nodded and before she knew it she was stalking her way outside and towards her bike. Ignoring the tears that were clouding her vision she climbed upon. Just as she was about to start it, a hand touched her elbow. It was Mick. She almost broke down crying there and then.

“Don’t,” Mick shook his head, “You can’t drive like that, darlin’. Let Taylor take you. Please.”

“He has to be okay,” YN shook her head, the sobs starting to wrack through her body.

Mick nodded, helping her off the bike, “He will be. But, if you wanna get there safely, in one piece let the boys take you.”

YN nods, walking over to Taylor’s bike and hopping on behind him. Mick gave her hand one last squeeze.

“Send him my love, okay?” Mick spoke and YN nodded, not trusting herself to be able to reply in that moment.

Taylor started the engine, and before she knew anything, they were hurtling down the street. This time, though, she wasn’t thinking about the wind in her hair.

[lunaharrygurl]

Love Bites: Part Two

A bookstore barista catches the attention of a vampire drawn to her scent, and everything changes when she invites him in.

Word Count: 7,906

Content warning: mentions of drinking blood and biting.

Part One

Morning sunlight filtered softly through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the bedroom walls. Y/n stirred beneath the sheets, her body slowly adjusting to consciousness. It took her a moment to shake off the heaviness of sleep—and the lingering rush of last night’s memory.

She let out a small yawn and headed for the bathroom, flicking on the overhead light before grabbing her toothbrush. The usual morning routine felt almost surreal today. As she brushed her teeth, her mind drifted back to Harry: his midnight-green eyes, the cool feel of his lips, the firm press of his fangs…

She spat out the toothpaste and reached for the faucet, then paused. In the mirror, two faint puncture marks stood out on her neck—tiny, but undeniably there. Her heart gave a little flutter of recognition. Slowly, almost reverently, she lifted her free hand and brushed her fingers over the marks.

A wave of warmth flooded her chest, dissolving into something that bordered on pure euphoria. It was like reliving the moment he bit her, only this time she felt no fear or shock—just a pulse of lingering pleasure that made her knees feel weak. Even standing there in the bright, ordinary light of day, she could feel him.

After a few heartbeats, she lowered her hand, forcing herself to finish rinsing her mouth. Her thoughts were a jumble of curiosity and a strange, heady excitement. She wanted to see him again. Or maybe needed to see him. At the same time, her reflection reminded her that this was hardly normal—waking up with vampire bites that invoked a delicious thrill instead of terror.

Gently toweling off her face, she took one more glance in the mirror. The marks wouldn’t be obvious to anyone who wasn’t looking for them… but she knew they were there. And she knew exactly who had put them there, too.

She ran her fingers through her hair, exhaling slowly. One step at a time, she reminded herself. That had been Harry’s promise—and her own. It was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-racking to feel so drawn to someone she barely knew. But as she moved back into her bedroom and began pulling on her clothes for the day, her mind was already drifting to the possibility of seeing him tonight.

Would he come by the café? Show up again on her walk home? Or would she find him waiting outside her building like some dark, romantic secret? The thrill surged again at the thought of it. Despite all the unknowns, she couldn’t help but smile. There was no going back to the life she had before Harry—whether she understood it or not, her world had changed.

She glanced at her phone on the bedside table, an itch of impatience tugging at her. There were so many unanswered questions. Yet, as she thought of him—of his cryptic little smiles and careful, tender concern—she felt certain about one thing: she wanted more.

Gathering her bag and keys, she headed out, locking the door behind her with a steady hand. The city beckoned, the promise of another routine day overshadowed by the electric hum in her bloodstream. The marks on her neck might have been small, but they were a reminder of their night together. 

Y/n bustled into the café, shrugging off her coat as she made her way behind the counter. The scent of fresh coffee beans and warm pastries instantly surrounded her, a comforting backdrop to the electric undercurrent of her own thoughts. She couldn’t keep the small smile off her face—even hours after waking up, she still felt that residual rush every time she remembered Harry’s bite.

“Someone’s in a suspiciously good mood,” Ellie teased, eyeing Y/n over a tray of blueberry scones. “Care to explain?”

Y/n’s cheeks heated despite her best efforts to remain cool. “Oh, you know,” she said, forcing an air of casualness, “just enjoying the simple things. Good sleep, coffee in the morning… that kind of stuff.”

Ellie gave her a look that said, “ I’m not buying it.” “And this has nothing to do with that ridiculously attractive guy who visited a while back?” She set down the tray and crossed her arms, a smirk already forming at the corners of her lips.

Y/n tried to stifle a laugh but ended up smiling even wider. “What are you talking about?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in mock confusion. “Surely you don’t mean the one with the hair that absolutely doesn’t make me weak in the knees—or the accent that definitely doesn’t make my heart race?”

“Uh-huh. Right.” Ellie rolled her eyes, grabbing a clean rag to wipe the countertop. “So you’re telling me you’re all sunshine and smiles for no reason at all?”

Y/n shrugged, lifting a coffee mug to hide her grin. “Maybe I just woke up on the right side of the bed today.”

Ellie let out a laugh, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Look, if there is something going on, you know I’m here for it, right? I need details.”

Y/n pretended to think it over, tapping a finger against her chin. “Well…” she began, fighting another blush, “maybe I am seeing him again. Maybe soon. But I’m not giving any details just yet.”

Ellie groaned in playful exasperation. “You’re killing me here!”

“Trust me,” Y/n quipped, sliding a to-go cup across the counter to a waiting customer, “you’re better off not knowing all the details.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, picking up on the mischievous gleam in Y/n’s eyes. “Fine,” she said, tossing the rag onto the counter. “But don’t be surprised if I keep an eye out for tall, dark, and mysterious. A girl needs to know what she’s up against.”

Y/n just laughed, feeling a renewed flush spread across her cheeks. Even if she couldn’t tell Ellie the whole truth, it felt good that someone was rooting for her. It was as if her happiness had become something tangible, woven into her every move. And no matter what complications might arise with Harry’s secret, Y/n couldn’t stop that buoyant feeling from spilling over into everything she did. She went about her day with a faint smile plastered on her face. 

When her shift was finished, Y/n stepped outside the bookshop, the sky a sullen gray as rain drizzled in cool sheets. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, adjusting her bag as she started her walk home. Her mind buzzed with all the questions she still hadn’t asked Harry—like how on earth he managed to track her by scent alone, or what his own home looked like. Was it as old-world and mysterious as he was? Or maybe minimalistic, a contrast to his ageless presence?

She’d only walked a block before the rumble of a sleek engine broke through the steady patter of rain. A black car glided to the curb, shadowy windows nearly imperceptible behind the droplets. Y/n slowed, her heart thumping in sudden alarm as the passenger window whirred down.

She was about to snap at whoever was inside—city instincts kicking in—until she realized it was Harry,leaning across the seat. His dark curls were damp but still artfully mussed, his green eyes flicking to hers with the slightest hint of a smile.

“Hop in,” he said, his voice calm through the drizzle, as though offering a simple courtesy.

Y/n hesitated, water already soaking the edges of her shoes. Normally, she’d never climb into a stranger’s car—rain or not. But Harry was not “normal,” and—truth be told—not much of a stranger anymore. Still, she couldn’t stop the wry grin that tugged at her lips.

“You know,” she called over the noise of the rain, “your car could’ve been anyone’s. I was about to tell you to fuck off.”

Harry laughed, the low sound almost lost in the hiss of tires on wet pavement. “I’ll try not to take it personally,” he said smoothly. “Now get in before you catch pneumonia.”

She hesitated just a moment more, scanning his features. There was concern in his gaze, mingled with that sense of quiet confidence she was quickly getting used to. With a sigh—part exasperation, part anticipation—she relented, stepping off the curb and opening the passenger door.

The interior was warm and smelled faintly of leather and something else, something uniquely Harry.She slid onto the seat, closing the door behind her. Outside, the rain drummed against the car’s exterior, but in here, it felt cocoon-like, almost intimate.

Harry pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the city’s damp evening traffic. Y/n pushed back her hood, shaking out droplets of rain from her hair. She snuck a quick glance at him, noting how his profile looked even sharper under the dim overhead light of the dashboard.

“Fancy ride,” she mused, tapping one finger lightly on the immaculate dashboard. “I was half expecting you to roll up in a horse-drawn carriage or something.”

He shot her a sideways smirk. “I save the carriage for special occasions.”

She chuckled, settling into the seat. “And what’s this then? A spur-of-the-moment kidnapping?”

“More like a rescue,” Harry said, slowing at a traffic light. The neon glow of signs outside washed momentarily over his features, enhancing the hint of a smile that played on his lips. “Figured you’d appreciate a ride home in this weather.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the casual way he spoke, like they’d done this a thousand times. She cleared her throat. “Well, thanks,” she said softly. “But I warn you: I still have about a million questions.”

He turned toward her, the light catching his eyes. “Ask me anything.”

She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, wondering where to begin. “For starters… you tracked me by scent? That still blows my mind.”

Harry’s gaze flicked back to the road. “Our sense of smell is heightened,” he explained. “Most of us can track a scent for miles if it’s distinct enough. Yours was… very distinct.” His tone dipped slightly on those last words, as though remembering the allure she carried.

Y/n’s cheeks warmed. “I guess I’m flattered? A little creeped out, but mostly flattered.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver across her skin. “I don’t blame you. It’s not exactly normal. But I hope you’re getting used to the idea that I’m… not exactly normal.”

She bit her lip, unable to hold back a small smile. “Trust me, I’m getting there.”

Another question spilled to her tongue, but before she could ask it, the traffic light changed and Harry turned down a quieter street. She glanced at the passing rows of buildings, illuminated in fuzzy halos from the rain-slick streetlights.

“Are we… heading toward my place?” she asked, noticing they were slightly off her usual route.

Harry hesitated. “I thought—maybe—we could go somewhere else first,” he said, his voice careful. “If you’re up for it.”

A spark of curiosity flickered in her chest. “Where?”

“My place,” he replied simply, his hands steady on the wheel. “I realized you’ve never seen it, and… you said you had questions.”

Y/n’s pulse skipped. His place. She’d wondered what it might look like—had even pictured it in her head. Would it be old-world, filled with antiques? Or sleek and modern? The mere thought of stepping into his private space sent a thrill through her.

She glanced at him, her hand resting unconsciously on the small puncture marks hidden beneath her scarf. “I’d love that,” she murmured, voice colored by equal parts excitement and nerves.

Harry gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “Then it’s settled.”

The rain intensified outside, the roads glistening under the amber glow of streetlamps. Y/n sank back into the seat, stealing another look at Harry as he drove. Shadows played across the curve of his cheekbone, casting his features in a half-light that reminded her just how different he was—and how her world had shifted irreversibly since meeting him.

Yet she couldn’t deny the warmth growing in her chest, that tangible connection pulling her closer. She might not know what awaited her at his house—or how many more secrets she’d uncover—but as she watched the city pass by in a blur of silver and gold, she felt an undeniable rush of anticipation.

He was offering a piece of his world to her, and she was ready to step inside.

Y/n’s breath caught the moment his hand settled on her thigh. Even through her jeans, Harry’s touch felt unmistakably cool—like a whisper of winter air against her skin. She glanced down at his hand, noting the silver rings decorating his fingers, each one reflecting brief flashes of city lights through the window. Fine veins traced along the back of his hand, yet there was an otherworldly stillness to them, as though the blood beneath no longer pulsed with mortal life.

A strange mixture of comfort and curiosity bloomed in Y/n’s chest. She remembered the first time she’d become aware of his temperature—that night on her couch, when his lips had trailed across her jaw. Now that truth was plain to see in the pale, graceful lines of his hand.

She let her own fingers inch toward his, daring to rest them lightly against the back of his hand. “You’re so cold,” she said softly, the faint sound of the windshield wipers filling the silence between them.

Harry kept his gaze on the road, though his lips curved in a slight smile. “It’s… part of the package.” His voice had that gentle undertone that always seemed to let her know he was aware of how strange—how different—he must seem.

Y/n turned her eyes to the rain-blurred view outside, the streetlights bleeding into one another. “Does it ever bother you?” she asked, her voice barely above the rhythm of the wipers. “Being… this way?”

He exhaled, and she could sense the weight in that breath. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Especially when I’m reminded of how far I am from being… human.”

She glanced at him, catching the tension in the set of his jaw. Even as he guided the car through the slick streets with effortless grace, she could see something vulnerable flicker behind his eyes.

“You don’t feel inhuman to me,” she murmured, her fingertips brushing the back of his hand in a comforting gesture. “Strange, maybe. But not inhuman.”

Harry’s grip tightened just a fraction on the steering wheel, and his other hand pressed a bit more firmly on her thigh, as though silently grateful for her words. “That helps,” he said at last, the corners of his mouth curving into a shadow of a smile. “More than you know.”

She let her gaze rest on his profile, her heartbeat steady and certain despite the endless questions swirling in her mind. In that moment, the cold of his touch didn’t feel like a warning—it felt like an invitation into a world different from her own, yet somehow already tied to her in ways she couldn’t explain.

Y/n wanted to ask more, to know the story behind every ring on his finger and the centuries that might lie behind his careful eyes. But with the rain drumming on the windows and Harry’s hand anchoring her to this moment, she decided not to push. One step at a time, she reminded herself. There would be time for questions and answers—long nights and whispered truths.

She slid her hand fully over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. In response, Harry’s thumb traced a slow, reassuring circle over her leg. Outside, the lights of the city blurred and glowed, carving out a small, shared universe within the car’s warm interior.

And as the road bent, carrying them closer to wherever Harry called home, Y/n felt her heart lift. The questions she had could wait—because right now, she was happy just existing in this slice of time, his cool touch grounding them both in the present.

Harry parked the sleek black car in a small underground garage beneath an unassuming brick building. The rain still drummed on the streets overhead, but once inside, all Y/n could hear was the soft echo of her own footsteps. A freight elevator—a curious relic of the city’s past—took them to the top floor. Its cage-like doors rattled open, revealing a hallway lit by old-fashioned wall sconces.

Harry guided her down the hall until they stopped in front of a solid wooden door. Without a word, he unlocked it and pushed it open, stepping aside so she could enter first.

The moment Y/n stepped in, she felt enveloped by a warmth that was undeniably Harry. The room carried his scent—faintly musky, with a whisper of something sweet and unplaceable. She inhaled deeply, a slow sense of comfort washing over her as she took in her surroundings.

Despite the modern furnishings—plush sofa, sleek coffee table, recessed lighting—there were unmistakable touches of antiquity everywhere. A grand, intricately carved mirror hung on one wall, its edges worn in a way that spoke of centuries of use. A weathered trunk with brass fittings served as an end table, stacked with thick, leather-bound books that looked like they’d been passed down through generations. The combination was oddly harmonious: a collision of old-world charm and modern minimalism that felt just right for someone like Harry.

Y/n wandered in a few steps, lightly trailing her fingers over the back of the sofa. “This place is…” She let the sentence hang, searching for the right word.

“Different?” Harry supplied, stepping in behind her and sliding off his coat.

She turned to face him, smiling softly. “I was going to say perfect. But that works, too.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. He seemed relieved by her reaction, as though he’d worried what she might think. “I move around a lot,” Harry admitted, glancing around at the curated mix of old and new. “So, the things I keep…I keep for a reason.”

Y/n’s eyes danced across the artifacts on display. A tarnished candelabra adorned a small table near the window, its silver twisted into delicate shapes. A tall bookshelf showcased rows of volumes both ancient and contemporary, the spines scrawled in languages she didn’t recognize.

She approached the fireplace—modern, but set within a mantle that appeared to be carved from dark marble. It wasn’t lit, but the faint smell of woodsmoke lingered, hinting that Harry sometimes used it. A painting above the mantle drew her attention: a serene, old-world landscape, likely older than any museum piece she’d seen in person.

“This is incredible,” she murmured, turning to look at him. “All of it. It’s so…you.”

Harry shrugged, hands sliding into his pockets as he studied her. “I like contrast,” he said quietly. “Keeping one foot in the past, one in the present.”

She crossed the room and took his hand. His fingers were still cold, but the closeness of the apartment, and his presence, made it feel more comforting than jarring. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle. “For bringing me here.”

His gaze flicked down to where their fingers intertwined, then back up to meet her eyes. “I wanted you to see…” he paused, searching for the right words, “this part of me.”

Y/n squeezed his hand, a faint smile on her lips. “Well, I’m here,” she said, releasing a breath that felt like it carried away every last hesitation. “And I want to see everything you’re willing to share.”

Harry’s lips curved in a thoughtful, half-smile. “Then stay as long as you like.”

She glanced around again, letting her senses absorb the warmth, the blend of history and modern comfort, and the intangible presence that was uniquely Harry. A shiver of anticipation threaded through her—because for all the questions still on her mind, she knew with certainty she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Y/n settled onto the plush couch, leaning into the gentle warmth that permeated the apartment. Harry rose briefly and returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses—though he’d already mentioned he rarely drank anything besides blood these days. Still, he poured a small measure of wine into a glass for her, the soft clink of glass against wood echoing in the cozy space.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, accepting the glass. She took a cautious sip, letting the mellow, fruity taste linger on her tongue. Meanwhile, Harry set the bottle aside and eased onto the couch beside her, leaving his own glass untouched on the coffee table.

He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face in a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter. “You’re perfect,” he murmured under his breath, almost as if he didn’t mean for her to hear it.

Her cheeks warmed, and she lowered her gaze, shy beneath his unyielding attention. “I’m really not,” she replied, taking another sip to hide her sudden rush of nerves. “But… thank you.”

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though something in his eyes told her he found the statement too simple to convey how he truly felt. A beat of quiet followed—one of those moments that felt charged with unspoken confessions.

Finally, Y/n drew in a breath and turned fully toward him. “Ever since that night you drank from me—” She paused, conscious of how odd and intimate the words sounded, “—I’ve felt… alive in a way I never have before. It’s almost ironic.”

Harry’s eyebrow lifted. “Ironic how?”

She exhaled, struggling to describe the sensation that had been following her around since that night. “It’s like some part of me woke up. And I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s about… you, or what you did, or both. But everything is sharper. Colors seem brighter, food tastes better, I have more energy—even when I’m tired, it’s like my mind is in overdrive.”

He listened carefully, leaning in slightly. “Does it frighten you?”

She took a moment to consider that. “No,” she admitted. “Not exactly. If anything, it’s… exhilarating. But there’s something else, too. A sense of needing—wanting—to be near you. I can’t tell if it’s emotional, or if it’s because of whatever happened with the bite. Or both.”

Harry shifted closer, until there was just a whisper of space between them. “When we feed,” he said softly, “we exchange more than just blood. There’s… an energy to it. A bond that can form. It doesn’t always happen—but when it does, it’s intense. You feel a rush of vitality, and I…” He hesitated, searching her eyes. “I feel everything you feel.”

She swallowed, heart thudding. “So you know this… longing I’ve been feeling?”

He nodded, gaze skimming her features. “I do. And it’s not one-sided.”

Her breath caught, every nerve in her body suddenly aware of the nearness of him—of his faint, familiar scent, of the cool touch of his hand resting on the cushion between them. Setting her wineglass on the table, she turned so that her knees brushed his.

“You said you don’t usually bite people… that it’s rare,” she said, her voice hushed. “Why me?”

Harry reached for her hand, running his thumb softly over her knuckles. “From the first moment I smelled your scent, I knew there was something… unique about you. But it wasn’t just that.” He lifted his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her chest tighten. “Getting to know you—talking with you—made it impossible to stay away. I couldn’t ignore the pull.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling an inexplicable surge of relief and excitement at the same time. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

His eyes traced her face as if memorizing every detail. “So am I.”

In the quiet that followed, the only sounds were the soft hum of the city beyond the windows and the faint ticking of an antique clock somewhere behind them. Y/n’s heart pounded, equal parts curiosity and desire swirling in her. She carefully shifted, turning more fully to him, and he let his hand drift to her knee, cool fingers just pressing through the fabric of her jeans.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Y/n felt once again that rush of life—of every cell in her body awakening. She had a million more questions swirling in her mind, but as she watched his expression soften, she decided the answers could wait. Right now, she just wanted to bask in the warmth of being here, in his world, in his arms.

“I want to stay,” she whispered.

He leaned in, just enough that she could see the subtle shape of his fangs behind those parted lips. “Then stay,” he murmured, as though it was the simplest request in the world.

Y/n’s next breath felt shaky with anticipation as she reached out and lightly brushed the hair from his eyes. She couldn’t help but smile, heart fluttering in her chest. Leaning closer, she closed the small distance between them—letting the moment swallow them both whole.

They continued kissing, breaths mingling in the low-lit bedroom as Harry carefully lifted her into his arms. Y/n let out a soft laugh, both surprised and exhilarated by his effortless strength. Her fingers threaded through his curls as he carried her down the hallway and into a warmly lit room that felt at once cozy and steeped in untold history.

He set her gently on the edge of a wide bed layered with plush blankets. The scent of him—like aged wood and something faintly sweet—seemed even stronger here, and it sent a pleasant shiver through her. Harry sat beside her, one hand resting on her hip, his lips never straying far from hers. In between slow, languid kisses, he eased them both down until they were lying side by side, the world outside fading to insignificance.

Y/n’s hands slid up the planes of his chest, coming to rest over his shoulders. There was a coolness beneath the warmth of his skin, and something about that contrast, that blend of what he had been and what he was now, made her heart pound.

They lingered like that for a while—just quiet touches and shared breaths—until her mind, always swirling with questions, finally nudged her to speak. She drew back slightly, searching his gaze.

“I want to know everything,” she murmured, brushing a thumb over his jaw. “About you… about your life before… all this.”

Harry’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of caution in his eyes. His hand drifted up to tangle gently in her hair, as if grounding himself with her presence. “That’s a long story,” he said quietly.

Y/n’s lips curved in a small smile. “I’ve got time.”

He took a breath, an unnecessary habit for him, but it seemed to help him gather his thoughts. “I was born in the late 1800s,” he began. “England. A small town, really no big cities around, no tall buildings, no electric lights. My family worked the land. We weren’t rich, but we managed.”

She inched closer, wrapping one arm around his waist. “And you? What was life like for you back then?”

A wistful look crossed his features. “It was… simpler, I suppose. Harder in some ways—less medicine, less comfort but simpler, too. Days began when the sun rose and ended when the candles burned out. My main concerns were harvests and family, making sure we had enough food for the winter.” He paused, letting out a soft laugh tinged with nostalgia. “Never imagined I’d see a century turn, let alone two.”

Y/n’s fingertips moved idly across his arm, feeling the lean muscle beneath. “How old were you when it changed? When… you changed?”

He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching distant memories. “I was barely in my twenties. Not much older than you are now. I was visiting London for the first time—wide-eyed, excited to see the world beyond my village. I didn’t know… what was waiting for me in the city’s shadows.”

She swallowed, torn between fascination and an ache of sympathy. “What happened?”

His gaze flicked back to hers, and his hand resumed its gentle stroke through her hair. “I was attacked. It wasn’t romantic or… even intentional, I think. Just a creature someone like me, but feral who lost control. Left me for dead in an alleyway.” A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. “But I wasn’t exactly dead, was I?”

Y/n’s fingers tightened on his arm. “That sounds terrifying.”

Harry’s eyes darkened briefly, as if recalling the horror. “At first, it was. Waking up in a state of hunger I couldn’t comprehend… instincts tearing at me.” He paused, then shook his head with a sad, small smile. “I was alone for a long time, trying to figure out how to live… or not live… with what I’d become.”

Her heart twisted at his words, and she shifted closer, pressing the warmth of her body against his cool side. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice laced with genuine compassion. “No one should have to go through that alone.”

He studied her for a long moment, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “It was a different world then,” he said softly. “But I managed. Eventually, I found others like me who helped me learn control, taught me how to exist alongside humans without hurting them. Still… it leaves a mark on you.”

Y/n laid her head against his shoulder, comforted by his arm curling around her. “Have you ever wanted to be human again?”

Harry stared at the faint lines on the ceiling, silent for a moment. “Sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “Especially when I see people living ordinary lives—growing old, having children, passing on their stories. That’s something I’ll never experience.” His gaze flicked to hers, and the weight of his centuries pressed in his eyes. “But then I think about how much I’ve seen and done, how many places I’ve been, and I realize… there’s beauty in this existence too.”

She leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, then settled back against him. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, voice sincere. “I know it can’t be easy to relive all of that.”

Harry’s embrace tightened, and he pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “You make it a bit easier,” he murmured. “Easier than it’s ever been, most people aren’t as understanding.”

They let a comfortable silence stretch between them, a quiet acceptance passing in glances and soft touches. His story was a glimpse of the countless tales locked behind his eyes—stories she yearned to uncover. And although those revelations carried their share of darkness, Y/n felt no fear. Instead, she felt an inexplicable pull, deepening her bond with this man who was so much more than human.

Eventually, she shifted, meeting his gaze once more. “If you don’t mind,” she said gently, “I’d like to hear more. Someday… everything you’re ready to share.”

A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Someday,” he echoed, fingers trailing down her arm. “For now, let’s just… stay here. In this moment.”

Y/n propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze roaming over Harry’s face. He was stretched out beside her, the lines of his expression shadowed by centuries of caution and uncertainty. The longer she looked at him, the more her heart ached to close the distance that still lingered between them—those unspoken fears that came with loving someone not quite human.

She reached for his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “I know it won’t be easy,” she began, her voice hushed. “That it’s dangerous. That… you move around a lot. You’re not like other guys I’ve known—”

He let out a low, almost humorless laugh. “That’s putting it mildly,” he murmured, lifting their joined hands and pressing his cool lips to her knuckles. “I’ve never exactly fit into the ‘boy next door’ category.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s fine by me,” she said, inching closer. “I’m not looking for normal. I’m looking for… you.”

Harry’s expression turned solemn, and he threaded a hand gently through her hair. “You say that now, but if you knew half the dangers—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as though wrestling with words he didn’t want to voice. “There are things about my life that you might not be ready for. Having to uproot everything at a moment’s notice, hiding what I am, never really settling down because… eventually, people notice if you never age.”

Y/n’s chest twisted at the pain lacing his voice. She moved even closer, close enough that the faint warmth of her breath fell against his cheek. “I’m willing to deal with that,” she said softly. “All of it. Because I’ve never felt this connected to anyone before, Harry. I don’t even know how to explain it—you pull me in. I can’t imagine just walking away.”

He studied her, his gaze drifting from her eyes to the shape of her lips, down to the small marks on her neck where he had once bitten her. With the faintest exhale, he closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he said at last, voice tight with emotion. “My life… it can be dark. Lonely. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Her hand slid up to cup his cheek. “You keep saying that,” she whispered, “It’d hurt more to walk away from you now.”

Harry’s lids lifted, revealing the turmoil in his green eyes. Hesitation warred with yearning; centuries of caution battling a desire he couldn’t quite deny. “You’d have to give up so much,” he said, almost pleading with her to see the weight of her choice. “Routine, stability, your friends, your family—everything you’re used to. I’m not sure when or where I’ll have to go next. You’ll have to stay unchanged to live life. I can’t take that away from you completely.”

Y/n pressed her forehead to his, heart hammering with both fear and exhilaration. “I’m not saying it won’t be scary,” she admitted. “But it’s scarier thinking about my life without you in it, you’re what I’ve been looking for.”

A shuddering breath escaped him. His arms slid around her, drawing her closer until her head rested against his chest. He said nothing for a moment, simply letting their breathing synchronize. She could feel the cool edge of his body against her warmer one—tangible proof of the gulf between them, and yet how perfectly they fit.

“You’ll regret it if I don’t at least try,” she added gently.

He closed his eyes again, his fingers splaying across her back. “Maybe,” he murmured. “But I don’t want you to lose yourself in all this.”

Y/n swallowed, considering his words. “The only thing I’m afraid of losing,” she whispered, “is you.”

Silence wrapped around them like a fragile promise. Outside, the city hummed with its usual nighttime pulse, but here, in the glow of a single bedside lamp, it felt like they inhabited a small, separate universe. Finally, Harry kissed the crown of her head, the gesture carrying centuries of guarded emotion slowly breaking open.

“All right,” he said, voice ragged with vulnerability. “We’ll figure it out—together. Like I said one step at a time.”

Y/n exhaled in relief, her grip on his shirt relaxing now that she had his answer. She tilted her face up, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to her lips, quiet but brimming with all the words he didn’t know how to say yet.

In that unspoken understanding, they both knew the path ahead would be full of risks and sacrifices—but also the kind of profound connection most people never got to taste. So they clung to each other, heartbeats out of sync but souls inexplicably twined. 

When Y/n stirred the next morning, she first noticed the unfamiliar softness of the sheets beneath her cheek. A slow smile curled her lips as the events of the previous night settled over her like a warm blanket: Harry’s stories, the gentle brush of his lips, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand. She drew in a breath, catching that faint, comforting scent she’d come to associate with him—woodsmoke and something sweet, a blend as mysterious as the man himself.

She pushed the covers aside and sat up, brushing hair away from her face. Through a thin slice of the drawn curtains, she could see a pale light creeping in. Morning already, she thought. Time felt like it had slipped away the moment she’d laid down in Harry’s arms.

A subtle clink of dishes from beyond the bedroom drew her attention. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, padding barefoot along the hall to find Harry waiting in the open kitchen. The space was just as eclectic as the rest of his apartment: modern appliances set against old-world touches—like a vintage spice rack and a wrought-iron pot hanger that looked centuries old.

“Morning,” she said, voice still husky with sleep.

Harry turned at the sound of her voice, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. His curls fell loose over his forehead, and he wore a simple black sweater that set off the striking color of his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied softly. “I, um… stepped out for a bit.” He gestured to a small paper bag and a to-go cup on the counter. “I don’t really—well, you know. But I wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”

Heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks at the thoughtful gesture. “You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured, moving closer.

“Maybe not,” Harry conceded, “but you were sleeping so peacefully, and I wanted you to have breakfast.”

She peeked into the bag, finding a warm croissant and a small container of fruit. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the night before. Sliding onto a stool by the kitchen island, she offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Harry leaned his elbows on the opposite side of the counter, watching her with quiet fascination as she took a bite of the croissant. Flaky layers melted in her mouth, and she let out a blissful hum.

“Good?” he asked with a crooked grin.

“Delicious,” she confirmed, taking a sip from the to-go cup—coffee, just how she liked it. “You remembered,” she added, a bit surprised he knew her coffee order so well.

“I’m observant,” Harry teased, then shrugged. “Plus, you always write it down for your customers at the café. I picked up a few details.”

She rolled her eyes in playful exasperation. “Stalker.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, but the affectionate warmth in his gaze spoke volumes. He let her enjoy her breakfast in comfortable silence, occasionally handing her napkins or topping off her coffee from a French press he’d warmed on the stove. She couldn’t stop smiling at how domestic it felt—a far cry from the chaotic, surreal realization that he was a vampire who’d once drunk her blood.

When she finished, Harry straightened, gesturing down the hall. “If you’d like, the bathroom’s yours. Fresh towels are on the shelf. I figured you might appreciate a shower.”

“That sounds perfect,” she admitted, sliding off the stool. She paused, glancing down at her wrinkled clothes from yesterday. “I don’t suppose you have anything else I could wear?”

Harry’s gaze flicked across her face before he nodded, lips quirking. “I’ll find you something.”

A few minutes later, Y/n was standing under the warm spray of the shower, water cascading over her shoulders. She let out a contented sigh, savoring the simplicity of this moment. Her life felt turned upside down in the most extraordinary way—yet here she was, in his apartment, feeling oddly safe. Even the scent of his shampoo, musky and faintly spicy, was a comfort.

She stepped out, wrapping herself in a thick towel, and found a neatly folded shirt and her jeans waiting on a small wooden bench. She recognized her own jeans, but the oversized shirt was definitely Harry’s—soft cotton worn in all the right places, with sleeves that hung past her elbows. Slipping it on, she inhaled discreetly, catching his lingering scent in the fabric.

I could get used to this.

When she emerged, hair still damp, she found Harry back in the kitchen, rinsing dishes. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his gaze lingering on the way the shirt dwarfed her frame. A smile ghosted across his lips, equal parts affection and attraction.

“Looks better on you,” he offered, gesturing to the shirt.

Y/n felt a thrill race up her spine. “It’s comfortable,” she admitted, giving the hem a playful tug. “Thanks.”

He turned off the water and set aside a mug, then reached for a kitchen towel. “I forgot to ask, did you sleep okay?” he asked softly.

The unexpected concern warmed her chest. “I slept better than I have in a while.” she said, not bothering to hide the sincerity in her tone. “I always hated sleeping alone.”

Harry’s eyebrows flicked upward, and a gentle expression settled over his face. “I’m glad,” he murmured, crossing the space to her. His hand lifted as though to tuck her damp hair behind her ear, a gesture she was starting to recognize as one of his quiet intimacies. “I wasn’t sure if it’d feel too strange to wake up here.”

She looked up at him, her heart giving a little flutter. “Honestly? I’m still processing everything,” she admitted, “but I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world outside was all rain-soaked streets and city noise, but in this apartment, everything felt warm and still. Harry’s hand lingered near her cheek, fingertips grazing the collar of his shirt where it rested against her collarbone.

“Stay as long as you want,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “If you need to head to work, I can drive you. Or you can… hang out here until you’re ready to go.”

She weighed the options, a small smile touching her lips. “I do have work later,” she acknowledged, “but not for a few hours. If you don’t mind the company…”

He shook his head, his own smile soft and quick. “I don’t,” he murmured. “In fact, I’d prefer it.”

Y/n felt that familiar tug of connection—the same magnetic pull that had defined their relationship from the start. Without overthinking it, she stepped closer, lifting herself just enough to brush her lips against his. He was cool against her warm skin, and the contrast sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

Breaking the kiss, she rested her forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work or if it’s even going to work,” she whispered, “but I know I want to at least try.”

Harry’s arms slid around her waist, keeping her close. “So do I,” he promised quietly.

With that, they settled into the soft hush of the kitchen. The rush of the morning, the shower’s warmth still clinging to her, the taste of coffee lingering on her tongue—and his steady presence at her side. It was anything but ordinary, yet it felt wonderfully, undeniably real.

Harry slipped an arm around Y/n’s waist, drawing her close in a slow, gentle movement. The warmth of her body pressed against his cool chest made a pleasant shiver run through her. He bent his head until his nose was near the curve of her neck, and she felt him inhale—long and deep, as though savoring every note of her scent.

“You smell… so sweet,” he murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. “Almost… too good.”

She swallowed, heart thudding in her chest. “Should I be worried?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching his face. “About your self-control?”

Harry let a low chuckle escape him, though there was an edge of tension in his expression. “My self-control is… typically very strong. But I have to admit,” his gaze flicked to her throat, then back up to meet her eyes, “you make it difficult.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered in equal parts excitement and caution. It was easy to forget the danger underlying his nature when he was being so tender and thoughtful. But moments like this—when she could practically feel his hunger just under the surface—were a stark reminder of what he truly was.

She brushed a hand over his cheek, feeling his cool skin under her warm fingers. “I don’t want you to lose it,” she said softly, a hint of concern threading her voice. “But… I’m not scared.”

Harry’s eyes reflected a swirl of emotions—desire, conflict, gratitude. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, and she could sense how carefully he controlled his breath.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised, voice low. “It’s the one thing I refuse to do.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “I believe you.”

For a moment, they stayed like that: foreheads touching, arms wrapped around each other, letting the city’s distant hum fade into a quiet hush. Despite the tension humming just beneath his cool exterior, she felt safe in his arms.

He slowly pulled back, eyes flicking between her lips and her throat. “One day,” he murmured, almost in a self-deprecating tease, “I might have to invest in a good scent blocker—or work on my restraint even more.”

Y/n’s laugh was breathy as she stroked a thumb gently across the side of his neck. “Or, I could just keep a stash of blood bags around to distract you.”

Harry blinked, then let out a real, easy laugh—a genuine sound that lit up his eyes. “I suppose that’d be one way to go.”

She grinned. “See? Problem solved.”

His laugh subsided into a lingering smile, and he shook his head in mild wonder. “You don’t even flinch talking about that. About what I am.”

Y/n pressed her lips together, feeling the honesty in her chest. “It’s part of you, and I… want all of you.”

Harry’s grip tightened slightly around her waist, and in that moment, she glimpsed a flash of that quiet hunger in his eyes. Not just for her blood, but for her presence—no longer wanting to be alone. She moved in first, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips.

When they parted, she rested her head against his shoulder, listening to the city beyond.

Harry, despite the centuries he’d lived, looked at her like she was entirely new—worth every ounce of restraint. 

She felt certain of one thing: she wasn’t afraid.

[lunaharrygurl]

no one is writing 😭😭

[lunaharrygurl]

[lunaharrygurl]

“Shibari”

professor!Harry x you

Word Count: 15.1k

Warnings: age gap (10 years), angst, bondage, oral sex (f receiving & m receiving - Y/N will also be receiving from someone other than Harry in one brief scene), fingering, mentions of suspected cheating, slight gagging and protected sex

Plot: As a struggling university student in your final year, you needed some extra cash and ended up taking a position at a local sex club. All had been going well for quite some time until one night on stage. The last thing you ever expected upon taking your new job was to look out, and see the one and only Professor Styles eying you from the audience.

Quick A/N: I’ll be adding this to my blurbs/one-shots for a while to stay ahead of everything, but just wanted to make note that I’m very much aware of the anonymous messages that have been sent out about me over the last few months. I’ve made the posts I feel are necessary to address the context of said messages, and they’re all still up on my blog if you wish to look into it. The reason I’m bringing this up is because if you have your anon feature on, and you interact with this post, you’ll more than likely end up receiving one (or many) because it seems like whoever is sending these is just going through the list of people who like/reblog my most recent posts. I’m so sorry to anyone who may receive, or has been receiving these messages, just because they interact with a post. As always, my messages are open if anyone wishes to discuss further 🫶🏻 I love you all, and I hope you enjoy ‘Shibari’!

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

“Great work today,” Professor Styles spoke to the class in front of him with a smile on his lips - glasses perched onto the bridge of his nose. “Please leave your assignments on the desk to be gathered.”

Reaching into your crossbody bag, you pulled out your folder that housed all of the assignments you had to turn in for your classes, and you placed yours down onto the desk.

“Y/N.”

Your head shot up as you heard Professor Styles say your name, and you looked over to him.

“Do you mind collecting those for me before you leave?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded. “Not a problem.”

Standing up, you draped the strap of your bag over your chest, and once everyone had left, you started to walk around and pick up the papers. Your friend, Bailey, hung out by the doorway. She waited for you, and once you had gathered all the assignments, you walked over to Professor Styles’ desk where he was now sitting. 

You set them down with a smile. “See you next week, Mr. Styles.”

“Y/N, wait,” he stopped you as you had barely turned to leave, and your friend Bailey raised a brow at you before you turned to look back at your professor fully. “I asked you to collect those because I wanted to give you a compliment on the essay you had turned in last week. Hearing your thoughts on the powerful women represented in Greek mythology had my attention captured the entire time.”

The smile on your lips grew bigger, and your chest swelled with pride at the compliment. “Thank you, Professor. That means a lot coming from you.”

Professor Styles had to have been the most profound professor you had ever had. He was not only intelligent, but he was so well-spoken. Earning any kind of praise from him felt like you were winning a prize. 

“You’ve written many great essays from the start of the semester, but I think this one was my favorite of yours. Excellent work, Y/N. I can’t wait to see what you do with the next one.”

Now you could feel the blush tinting your cheeks as you looked down at your feet before meeting his eyes once more, but now he had pushed his glasses onto the top of his head. “I appreciate that. I have to say that learning in this class comes pretty easy though when you’re the one teaching it - so thank you too.”

You watched as his lips quirked up on one side - causing that sweet dimple of his to indent into his cheek. “And I appreciate that.”

Before causing yourself to look like a blubbering idiot, you turned on your heels and walked over to Bailey who hooked her arm in yours. You made your way into the cafe in the middle of campus to kill time between your next class, and you and your friend sat yourselves down at a table with fresh coffees pressed against your palms - croissants in the middle to share.

“Isn’t it refreshing having a Professor like Mr. Styles?” Bailey took a moment to blow on her beverage to try and cool it down faster. “I feel like any other male professor would’ve shit on you for writing a whole essay about powerful women, but I could tell he was actually being honest when he told you that he really enjoyed yours.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached forward to rip off a piece of one of your pastries. “He also seems like one of the only professors we have that actually cares whether or not we succeed. I’ve heard him offer extra credit so many times to students who are struggling. He doesn’t like to see anyone fail, and I feel like there’s plenty of weirdo professors who feed off that sort of thing.”

“Not to mention he is kind of easy on the eyes,” your friend sighed as she also popped a piece of croissant into her mouth. “Something about those glasses he wears…”

“Bailey,” you cringed while shaking your head - slouching back in your seat while taking a sip of coffee.

“What? Don’t act like you haven’t noticed! For example, whenever he wears those sweater vests, and then rolls up the sleeves of the shirt he has underneath it to his elbows,” Bailey draped the back of her hand across her forehead like a true damsel. “Seeing his tattoos out like that. It’s so hot.”

Pursing your lips to the side, you suppressed the laughter that wanted to leave you. “Okay. Sure. He’s attractive, alright? But I honestly don’t notice that much when we’re in class. I’m actually focusing on the material.”

“Yeah, me too. The material of whatever trousers he’s wearing that accentuate those muscular thighs.”

Eventually you were able to steer the direction of the conversation away from your handsome professor, and before you knew it, it was time for the both of you to head to your next classes.

“Oh, Shauna’s party on Saturday- you’re coming right?” Bailey asked as you gathered your things.

“Uh, I can’t,” you cleared your throat as you tossed your trash into a nearby can. “I already have plans.”

“You do?” Bailey raised a suspecting eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

As much as you wanted to confess to your friend the secret that you had been keeping for months, you knew that you couldn’t. The only thing you could do now was lie. “I offered to help tutor one of my classmates in my Statistics class. She’s starting to fall behind a bit, and she wants to try to get ahead of what’s stumping her before it’s too late.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to offer to do that on a Saturday night. If you finish up early, you should still come.”

“I need the extra cash, especially since I had to replace all that shit in my car a couple of months ago. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” the two of you walked out of the cafe, but stopped before going your opposite ways. “If it does end early, I’ll swing by for a bit.”

You hated lying to Bailey. That wasn’t you. You weren’t a liar, and you despised how it made you feel inside. The only thing you could think of to say to cover yourself was that you were tutoring. You had already used the excuse too many times that you were studying and doing your schoolwork, and Bailey knew better than to keep believing that - considering you were a student who liked to get assignments done earlier into the week. There was no fooling her when she knew you in your first year of University, and now you were in your final one. Maybe you would feel comfortable enough to tell her your secret eventually, but for now, it was something you would be keeping all to yourself.

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

It was now Saturday night, and you found yourself up on stage at Silk & Lace. You were currently partaking in a half demonstration, half scene in one of your usual side rooms - feeling as confident as ever in your strappy lingerie that was slightly see through. Your nipples were just barely shining through the fabric and when you turned around, the lace left little to the imagination when it came to your ass.

Your partner was behind you as you continued to partake in your Shibari demonstration. The red cord rope was tied over your chest, rounding underneath your breasts before it was tied in an intricate pattern along your spine to hold it all together. From there, he lowered himself down to kneel behind you and he began to tie a separate set of ropes high over your hip bones, and then over the creases of your thighs. He then tied a few knots around one of the tops of your thighs before knotting everything together once again.

As you felt your partner finishing up the final knots, your eyes glanced over the crowd like they always did, but you quickly did a double take when they ran over a face you had never seen here before, however, it was one that you knew so well. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you realized you weren’t seeing things, and you were actually witnessing your professor sitting there.

Professor Styles.

It was shocking to see him, as you were sure you would’ve noticed had he been here before, but there he was dressed in a dark blue suit - the blazer having a white stripe down the side where the buttons were. Underneath he was wearing a white tank-top that showed off a patch of chest hair, and inked swallows that you had never seen before.  He had a glass of caramel colored liquor in his hand that he was bringing up to his lips, but he didn’t dare to take his eyes off of you.

Although a sense of nervousness washed over you, there was also something erotic about the way he was eying your body - all tied up. The ropes across your chest caused your tits to sit up a little higher, and the ropes tucked under the creases of your ass had your cheeks more pronounced. You kept your eyes on him so you could see exactly where his own trailed, and you had almost forgotten about the second part of all of this, the scene part, until your partner was draping you over the bench that was in the middle of the stage.

You closed your eyes when you felt him pulling your underwear over to the side, and you pressed your forehead against the cool surface to ground yourself for just a moment before placing your cheek down once more - positioning yourself so that the audience would be able to see every expression on your face. This was as far as you ever went with the scenes. You had never indulged in one that contained anything but oral sex. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy watching full sex scenes yourself, or that you were against them exactly, but it just wasn’t something you wanted to partake in.

Swallowing harshly, you fluttered your eyes open and could see that your professor still had his eyes glued to you. A gasp flooded from your lungs as you felt your partner’s tongue against your slit, and for the first time in a while, you knew that you were decently wet from the start. It’s not like you didn’t get turned on by any of this, because you did, but tonight you knew that you were already dripping because of who was in the crowd watching your every move. Even though what your partner was doing felt good to you, you were playing up your moans as always. You hardly ever actually came, and you really didn’t care. You honestly did this for fun and the money more than anything. Getting off was never your mission.

The scene went on for some time, and you alternated your noises between whimpers, whines and moans. You had allowed your eyes to close every now and then, to wander over the crowd as there was still a nervousness about looking directly at your professor, but when you looked back to him after a minute or so, you saw his large hand palming against his thick erection. Although you had already felt something switch within you by seeing Professor Styles in this setting, the image in front of you now had you absolutely reeling.

Soon your moans actually turned into genuine ones, and as you stared at your superior, you couldn’t help but imagine that he was the one behind you - the one with his tongue tucked up inside your cunt. With your wrists firmly secured against the small of your back due to the knots that were still in place, all you could do was dig your nails into your palms and picture that your fingers were gripping your professor’s hair instead. 

With just a few more pulses of your partner’s tongue inside of you, and his thumb applying pressure to your clit, you came for the first time during a scene in  a while right there on that stage. Your thighs trembled as you whimpered your way through your orgasm - fighting to keep your eyes open so that they didn’t disconnect from his. 

Now that the scene was over, the crowd began to disperse as your partner helped you up from the table so that you were standing up straight.  He untied you, and wiped between your thighs with a damp cloth before you were moving to pull your black silk robe on. From the time that you had turned your back to where the crowd was once sitting to cover yourself, to the time you turned back around, your professor was already gone. 

You tried not to wear your emotions on your face, and you quickly made your way into your private room at the club. Pouring yourself a drink, and plopping yourself down on the plush couch, you were now having post-orgasm clarity as you sipped your bourbon. Once Monday came, you knew what you had to do. 

You would be asking for a transfer from Professor Styles’ class. 

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

It was Monday morning, and you were sitting beside Bailey in Professor Styles’ classroom. The side of your thumb was against your teeth as she chewed nervously on your cuticle. All weekend you were panicked about what could come of Saturday’s events. You kept trying to be rational about it - reminding yourself that he obviously couldn’t hold anything against you considering he was also at the club, but the whole thing still made you incredibly anxious. 

Bailey had been side-eyeing you all morning, but you could tell that she was hesitant to ask what was wrong. You hoped that she wouldn’t. There were several different reasons that you knew that you could give her, but given your current state, you weren’t sure if any of them would come off as believable.

It was two minutes before class was supposed to start, a little later than usual for your professor, but your heart practically stilled as you saw him walking through the front of the room. He looked over the class like he usually did as he made his way to his desk, and you were grateful, but also a little shocked, that his eyes didn’t linger on you any longer than they usually did.

Throughout class, Professor Styles acted as usual. Nothing seemed the slightest bit off with him, but here you were practically crawling out of your skin after what happened over the weekend. Then you had to think to yourself - were you overreacting? It’s not like you had come into any sort of physical contact with each other. You didn’t even talk to each other. It was all eye contact, and nothing more. Your thoughts caused your mind to wander, and you realized you hadn’t been paying attention to a single thing that was being discussed during the lecture. That was unlike you. You were a good student, and it frustrated you that one night only filled with eye contact had you losing focus.

It wasn’t until you heard the regular verbiage that your professor gave every week when class was ending that you knew that it was over. You gathered your things into your bag, and as you stood, you tried to quickly think of a reason to tell Bailey why you had to stay behind.

“Hey, uhm,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “I need to discuss a paper with Professor Styles. I hope it won’t be too long, but I’ll meet you in the cafe soon?”

Bailey shrugged as she pulled the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. “Sure. I’ll see you there.”

You both walked down the steps as you usually sat on the third level of seats in the classroom, and once everyone was gone, you drew in a deep breath as you approached Professor Styles’ desk. He continued to type on the computer, avoiding your gaze as if he didn’t know you were right there, so you decided to just speak.

“I’d like to transfer out of your class, please. I haven’t sent the request in yet, but I know I’ll need you to sign off on the form once I get it from my course planner.”

Your professors’ typing ceased, and you watched as his fingers twitched before he responded to you, however, he kept his eyes on his computer screen. “And may I ask why you suddenly feel the need to transfer out of my class, Y/N?”

“Don’t do that,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Don’t ignore what you witnessed. I don’t need you playing dumb. That doesn’t make this any easier for me.”

You watched as your professor sighed - running a hand over his face after setting his glasses down on his desk. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure out how to navigate this myself.”

It gave you a weird sense of comfort to see that he was in as much distress as you were, but it still didn’t soothe that uneasiness that was knocking inside of your chest.

“I’m sure you are. I took all day yesterday to think about it, and I think it would be easier for both of us if I just removed myself from your class.”

Professor Styles then intertwined his fingers together and pushed his palms down against his desk as he finally looked up at you. You couldn't help but have the images from Saturday night rush through your mind once his eyes met yours, and you started to falter under his gaze.

“We’re both adults. I feel we can be mature about this, don’t you?” His head tilted to the side. “Given the place where the…situation happened, I feel like we’re more than capable of keeping the whole thing private.”

You knew what he meant. For the most part, anything done within the sex club was very secret, and wasn’t talked about outside those doors. Was this him telling you that he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone else? But then you reminded yourself of the thought you had yesterday - if he exposed you, then he exposed himself too.

Taking in a deep breath, you tilted your chin up to try and exude confidence as much as possible. “Fine. I’ll stay, however, if I end up changing my mind after thinking this over some more, I would very much appreciate you signing off on the transfer.”

It did kind of baffle you why you gave in so easily to staying in Professor Styles’ class, but you had to look back at all the times where he encouraged not only you, but everyone to succeed in his course. Regardless of what happened, he was a good mentor, and you would be more than fortunate to finish out a semester with someone as put together as he was.

“Absolutely,” he nodded at your request. “You have my word.”

Giving him another brief nod, you turned to walk out, but once you reached the doorway, he called your name.

“Oh, and Y/N?” Your hands shook at the anticipation of what he would say, or request from you with the tone he was using, but nonetheless, you looked over your shoulder at him. “If you see me there again for any reason, you can call me Harry.”

There were no words you could put together to answer him, and you gave just a silly little shake of your head in agreement before rushing out of the entire building. You knew you were supposed to meet Bailey at the cafe, but you needed some time to yourself. Once you reached the park that was on campus, you sat down on a bench to catch your breath - reviewing the entire encounter you just had over in your head. 

Had you made a mistake? Should you have pressed for him to sign the transfer right away instead of trying to hear him out? Regardless of the doubts you were having, you were also intrigued as to why he was so adamant about having you not transfer out of your class. You figured there was only one thing further that could settle what this was.

If you saw Harry at the club again, it would have to be for a specific reason given the circumstances, and you couldn’t deny that you would be tempted to uncover exactly what that was. 

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

It had been a couple of weeks since you had your discussion with Harry about transferring from his class, and you hadn’t seen him in the club since. You figured that he had made the decision to form that separation completely - that he wouldn’t be coming back ever, or at least until you were no longer his student. Part of you understood it, and you knew it was for the best, but another part of you almost found yourself disappointed every time you looked out into the crowd and he wasn’t there.

You were having an inner dilemma over that. It was hard to wrap your head around why you would want your professor to see you in this type of environment again. There was something not wired right in your brain - you were sure of it. You had even contemplated going to therapy to try and figure out why you were so eager to potentially see him here another time, but you forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. 

Tonight you had found yourself practically in the same setting that Harry had seen you in, however, this was truly just a demonstration - no scene. It was a woman tying you up tonight, and the lingerie you had on wasn’t as revealing as usual. You could hear your partner for tonight speaking to the crowd, and walking them through every step of how she was knotting up the ropes, but your mind wasn’t so into it.

“Is there anyone that would like to come up here and try?” Your partner asked the crowd as she loosened the ropes to have you free, and you rolled your shoulders and your wrists to stretch them out a bit before you were bound again.

A hand goes up towards the back of the audience, and due to the stage you were on tonight, the bright lights kept you from being able to see the faces of anyone past the first couple of seats. It wasn’t until the volunteer was coming up the steps on the side of the stage that you saw it was Harry, and your pulse quickened.

Your partner stepped back as Harry approached you from behind, and you listened as she gave him the usual run down.

“No touching other than what you have to do with the ropes. One inappropriate touch, and you’re banned - we could potentially consider the cops as well, got it?” She asked, and you smirked softly to yourself at her words. This was the usual lingo, but you knew she was being protective over you.

“Would never even think of touching her inappropriately.”

Goosebumps coated your skin as you felt Harry starting to drape the ropes across your body, and his chest was soon pressed against your back. His fingertips brushed down the back of our arms before he started tying you in knots - both figuratively in your stomach and literally against your skin. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered into your ear, and you swallowed harshly before nodding.

“Yes.”

The rest of the demonstration almost felt like a blur, and it wasn’t until you felt the ropes dropping away from your skin for a second time that you realized it was all over. You heard your partner dismissing your crowd of the night, and due to your routine, you immediately turned to grab your robe that was draped over a bar at the back of the stage. As you pulled it on, you started to walk down the stairs, but you soon felt a hand capture your wrist.

Turning around, you saw Harry staring right into your eyes, but he still held a bit of a gap between the two of you. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You looked around for a bit, and then looked down at the contact you had on your skin from him before looking into Harry’s eyes. “I don’t think it would be very wise for us to be seen like that in the open. I doubt we’ll see anyone we know here, but I had that same thought before seeing you and…here we are.”

“You’re right,” Harry nodded as he let go of you, and he stood up straight to run a hand over the button-up he had on - smoothing out the creases. “I’m sorry. I’ve already overstepped enough as it is. Goodnight, Y/N.”

Your eyes lingered on him as he turned to walk away, and although you were still on the stage for everyone to see, you reached out to wrap your hand around his bicep. Harry’s eyes looked down at where your hand held him, and you felt a stutter in your pulse once he looked at your face. “Follow me.”

The two of you didn’t speak another word as you led him off the stage and down the hallway of the club towards your own personal room. You were able to use this room however you saw fit, but you had never had someone in here with you before. As you dragged  Harry in behind you, you could feel your heart thumping against your chest.

“Sit,” you gestured towards the armchair that was across from the couch in the room - separated by a thin coffee table. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

Walking over to the bar in the corner, you poured you and Harry both a glass of bourbon. You guessed that’s what he liked to drink based on the color of the liquor you had seen that night. As you walked back over, you extended the glass out to him. “I hope this is right. I kind of guessed at what you like.”

“It is,” Harry nodded as he took it from you, and you walked over to the couch. You slouched against it, and the two of you raised your glasses in a silent ‘cheers’ before taking a sip.

The clinking of the ice against your glasses was the only sound resonating in the room for a while before you heard Harry clear his throat. 

“Can I ask how you first got into Shibari?”

“My ex,” you shrugged as you extended your legs out further on the couch, letting the two of them extend over one of the arms while your cheek rested against the opposite one - your eyes set on Harry. “It intrigued me while we were together. We indulged in it quite often and I enjoyed it. We’ve been broken up for almost a year now, but I was pursuing a different job a few months ago and this popped up. I don’t like to be tied up all the time while being intimate, of course. It just really excites me from time to time.”

You weren’t so sure why you were being so open and honest with your handsome professor, but you felt comfortable with him. Obviously he was in this club, he wasn’t here to judge, and that gave you some reassurance.

“Can I ask you a question now?” You ran the tip of your finger around the rim of your glass, and you watched as Harry nodded. “I had never seen you in the club before the other night. Was that your first time, or have we just somehow managed to avoid each other?”

Harry chuckled as he looked down into his glass that he was holding in his two hands between his thighs - properly manspread in the armchair he was occupying. “I’ve been coming here for a while, actually, but I tend to bounce around. It just so happened the night I wanted to check out something new, and decided on the Shibari scene, you were the participant.” 

It was silent again for a moment as you both kept sipping from your drinks before you decided to speak again.

“Why did you stay that night? You had to have realized it was me.”

“I did,” Harry looked up from his glass so he was holding your eyes. “And I stayed because I couldn’t get over how you looked tied up like that. Like I said, it was my first time seeing Shibari in general, and you made it look so beautiful - so elegant.”

You sucked in a deep breath as you processed his words before responding. “And the scene part of it? Why did you stay and watch that?”

“I wanted to know what you look like when you come.”

Pressing your thighs together subconsciously, you swallowed down the whimper that almost escaped you. Hearing him say that so openly, and without hesitation, had you starting to tingle all over.

“You were hard,” you whispered.

“Very,” Harry nodded before taking another sip of his bourbon.

“You touched yourself while you stared at me.”

“I did. I tried to resist for some time, but after a while, I just couldn’t help myself,” you watched as Harry’s eyes dropped to where your thighs were still glued to each other, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Did you…had you thought of me in that way before?” You asked. You weren’t sure exactly how that would make you feel if he had looked or thought of you in this kind of nature before. “Like have you thought of me in that way just from me being in your class?”

Harry shook his head. “I promise you that I hadn’t before the other night. Seeing you on that stage was the first time I ever viewed you as anything other than my student.”

If you thought the air around the two of you had shifted already, you were wrong. Hearing him confirm that he was truly seeing you differently now, and that it wasn’t until this club that he had, it was clear that the dynamic between the two of you was beginning to change. Quickly.

“And now?”

“Why do you think I volunteered to be the one responsible for having those knots press into your pretty skin tonight?” Harry tilted his head to the side as he let his eyes run over the length of your body. “You’ve intrigued me, Y/N. I’m more than aware of how wrong this is, but I can’t stop thinking about you - no matter how hard I try.”

Taking in a shaky breath, you sat up straight on the couch and downed the rest of the liquor in your glass before setting it down on the table, and you watched as Harry did the same.

“What do you think about when you think of me?” You were teetering into dangerous territory now. You well aware that you were, but you just couldn’t stop. Truthfully, you felt you were already in too deep.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about whether or not I’m delusional,” Harry started to spin the ring that was around his middle finger. “I question if I'm right in thinking that your moans changed that night when you noticed me touching myself while looking at you.”

You can’t help but gasp at the fact that he noticed that. You weren’t sure it was that obvious that your moans had changed once you could see Harry’s clear hard on, and that he was touching himself to the sight of your body, but clearly it had been something he couldn’t miss.

It grew just as silent as it was when the two of you first entered the room before Harry stood - making his way over to you. Your hands dropped from your lap to curl around the edges of the couch cushions underneath you as Harry came to stand between your legs, and he brought one of his feet back to press against the coffee table with the sole of his shoe to move it backwards. 

“Are you going to put me out of my misery? Or are you going to allow me to continue to suffer with those thoughts?”

“Yes,” the word barely came out as you watched Harry lower himself down onto his knees.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, my moans changed.”

Harry’s eyes wandered over your face, and his throat expanded as he stared up at you. “Why?”

You paused for a moment as you contemplated whether or not you should give him the real reason. If you admitted this information to him, you wouldn’t just be teetering on the line of dangerous territory anymore - you’d be diving headfirst into it. But the sight of Harry on his knees in front of you, as if he were so desperate for answers that he’d put himself in a vulnerable-like position, your mind had grown a bit fuzzy.

“Because once I saw how hard you were, and that you were touching yourself, I couldn’t help but picture that it was you who was eating me out.”

There was only a beat of quiet before Harry groaned and dropped his forehead to rest on the inside of one of your thighs. You hesitantly raised your hand before reaching forward to run your fingers through his cropped hair - causing Harry to lean even further against you.

“You’re right. This is wrong,” you said in agreement to the statement he made earlier, but you made no movement to retract your touch.

“Then tell me to get up,” Harry blinked his eyes back open as they met your own once more. “Tell me to walk out right now, and I’ll leave. I’ll sign your transfer on Monday. We’ll forget about all of this.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you stayed in your same position, and a few seconds passed before Harry pushed himself up to sit higher on his knees. He leaned forward so his face was just inches from yours - eyes dancing over each other's faces.

“Tell me to go, Y/N,” you could hear the strain in his voice.

Your hands started to shake as you raised them to rest on the sides of his neck, and you took the time to really drink in his features considering you had never been able to take him in this closely before. Leaning forward, you still left the littlest bit of space between your faces as you knocked your bottom lip against his top one. You could tell that Harry’s hands had crept forward as well, and you felt him toying with the tie of your robe.

You allowed him to pull it all the way loose, and once your robe fell open, Harry’s large palms ghosted across the tops of your thighs before traveling up your abdomen. He cupped right under your rib cage - the pads of his thumbs caressing right where your nipples would be from over your bra. A small moan left your mouth as you moved your head to have your lips tapping again, but this time you kept them there as you and Harry held each other’s eyes.

“Har-” You went to speak his name, but he cut you off by gluing your mouths together entirely, and you heard that groan that rattled in his throat.

One of his hands stayed on your abdomen, but the other reached up to tangle itself into the back of your hair. He tugged at it slightly, which caused you to gasp against his lips, and he took that opportunity to roll his tongue out and against yours. You opened your legs even further so that you could pull him closer - your heart pounding in your chest. This was hands down the riskiest thing you had ever done in your life, but something about the thrill of it all just had you turned on that much more.

You arched your back to have your robe falling off your body completely, and Harry pulled back so that he could look over you. “Shit,” he whispered, shaking his head before leaning back in to kiss over the side of your neck - journeying down over your collarbone while dropping his hands to your thighs. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

Harry lifted his body up so he was hovering over you as he pushed your thighs further apart. He continued to kiss down your body - stopping to suck gently on one of the swells of your breasts. You whimpered as you threw your head back against the couch, and you reached down to lace one set of your fingers with his. Harry wasn’t sure what it was about you doing that, but that one small gesture had his heart fluttering in the midst of all your lust.

“Will you let me make those images you had thought up in your head a reality, baby?” He brought your connected hands up to press a kiss to the back of yours.

“Yes,” you nodded your head adamantly as you kept your head against the back of the couch, but you dropped your eyes down to look at him. “Please.”

Harry lowered  your hands, still keeping them together, to rest on the cushion beside one of your legs. His other hand found its way between your thighs, and he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit through the material of your underwear. He hummed as he could already feel it pulsing against his digit before dragging it down your covered slit. Licking over his bottom lip, he pushed a little harder so that he could feel how wet you were, and he was met with dampness starting to seep through.

“When did this start, hm? Was it when she was tying you up on stage?”

“No,” you swallowed harshly, and then moaned as Harry dragged his thumb back up to your clit - beginning to rub in precise circles. “It was when you started tying me up.”

You leaned your head to the side to rest your cheek on your shoulder as you kept a close eye on Harry’s every move, and you watched as a smirk grew on his perfect pink lips. “Does things to me that I can get you this wet without even having to really touch you. Can I take these off?”

“You don’t have to keep asking me for permission, Harry. Do whatever you want to me.”

Harry stared into your eyes as he let your hand go so that he could wrap both sets of his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips as he started to pull them down, and goosebumps covered your skin at the cool feeling against your core now that you were exposed to the air in the room. After tossing the undergarment to the side, Harry’s fingertips ghosted up the outside of your legs until he got to your knees, and one at a time, he draped the crooks of them over his shoulders.

“If I do anything you don’t like, or you want me to do something differently, you just tell me, alright?” He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you shuttered at just how close he was to where you wanted him most.

“I will, I promise. Just please…touch me,” if you weren’t so desperate for him, and blinded by the need for his mouth on you, you would’ve cringed at how whiny you sounded begging for him, but you couldn’t be bothered at the moment.

“I hope I live up to your expectations. I hope that I exceed them.”

With the first touch of the tip of Harry’s tongue against your clit, your eyes slipped shut, and your hand found its way into his hair again. You tugged on it as he swirled his tongue around the nub before sucking it between his lips. He hummed against you, and the vibrations had you clenching down around nothing as you bucked your hips up against his mouth.

“Harry, fuck,” you gasped as your toes curled. 

He was hardly doing anything to you yet, and you already were unable to keep still from just how good it felt. Parting his lips, Harry open-mouthed kissed his way down, properly making out with your cunt, before he began to lap at your dripping entrance. Your thighs threatened to close around his head as your brought your other hand up to join with the other, and you held one against the back of Harry’s head, the other continuing to run through his hair - pulling on it every now and then.

“You’re so messy down here, honey,” Harry blew against your hole, and you knew he could see that was causing it to pulse - desperately wanting to be filled. “Dripping all over my chin, but you taste so good, Y/N. I think I’m gonna be fucking addicted to your sweet pussy.”

His words left you breathless, and that feeling increased even further as he plunged his tongue inside of you while rutting the tip of his nose against your swollen bud. Biting down on your bottom lip, you tried to conceal just how loud you wanted to cry out for him, as if you had any reason to be quiet in the environment you were in. You made a noise of distress as you felt Harry’s mouth leave you again, but you were immediately met with a smack of his fingers against your core.

“Don’t you dare hide your noises from me,” Harry’s voice was stern as he then massaged his fingers against the area of impact to soothe it. “Let me hear you.”

He didn’t spare another second as he dove right back in, but this time, his lips were back around your clit, and he slipped his middle and ring fingers inside of you. A loud mewl flooded from your lungs as your hold on Harry’s hair grew tighter, and you began to roll your hips in time with the lapping of his tongue against your nub.

“You’re so fucking good,” you could barely get the words out as your thighs began to tremble again. “Never had someone eat me out like this before.”

You weren’t lying. Harry had such a vigor to the way he feasted on you, and you could tell he was focused more on giving you the utmost pleasure more than anything else.

His long and thick fingers plunged in and out of you - the coolness of his rings a stark contrast to how warm your core had become. Once he curled the tips of said fingers, and rubbed the pads of them right against your g-spot, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hold off an orgasm much longer. 

“I’m gonna come soon.”

Those words had Harry working even harder against you - slipping in another finger and sucking harder on your clit. You matched his energy as you rocked your hips with more precision, and you could feel that band in your lower abdomen stretching to its fullest capacity. You knew it was going to snap any second.

“Harry,” your whole body tensed up, and your thighs were now trapping him in. “Oh, I’m…I’m coming.”

The band in your stomach shattered, and you let out the mix between a small scream and a moan as you felt yourself gushing around Harry’s fingers. He continued to work you through your high, almost to the point of overstimulation, before you dropped one of your legs and pressed the arch of your foot against his shoulder to push him back.  Your eyes fluttered open as you watched Harry bring his fingers up to his lips, humming as he cleaned your orgasm off of them. 

Sitting up, you grabbed his face to pull his mouth against yours, and you groaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue, but that just made everything hotter to you. You pulled back and kissed over the side of his neck before quickly moving the two of you so that he was now sitting on the couch, and with still shaking legs, you kneeled between his own.

“Your turn,” your chest heaved as you were still trying to catch your breath, and you reached forward to start undoing his belt after untucking his shirt from his trousers. Harry pushed himself up a bit higher on the couch by pressing his palms down against the cushions, and you glanced up at him with a smirk on your lips.

After getting the buckle undone, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and just as you were going to pull the belt loose from the loops, Harry’s hands came down and captured your wrists. You looked at him with your lips parted and your eyes wide. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were shut tight - almost as if he was pained to look down and see your actions.

“Y/N. Stop.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you swallowed harshly as your hands began to shake. “I don’t have to. I didn’t mean to-”

“I can’t do this,” Harry shook his head as he moved your arms back so your hands dropped by your sides, and you remained on your knees while he stood up from the couch.

You watched him do his trousers and his belt back up, and your mouth opened and closed as you tried to think of what to say as he started towards the door.

“What…what just happened?” You asked, embarrassment washing over you. “Why are you leaving?”

Harry stopped with his hand around the doorknob, and you could see him glancing at you halfway over his shoulder, but instead of giving you any type of response, he opened the door and walked out. 

Rubbing your hands over the tops of your thighs, you stared blankly at the couch in front of you as you tried to understand Harry just leaving you the way he did. He seemed so into it. From the way that he was talking to you, to the way that he practically acted like he couldn’t get enough of you, this was the last thing that you expected to happen. Sighing, you pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes as you tried not to let yourself get too upset over this, but the open-endedness of it all had your mind reeling.

You gave yourself a few more minutes before you pushed yourself up from the floor, and you removed your fancy bra and changed back into comfy clothes so that you could go home for the night. Thoughts of what Monday was going to bring were rushing through your head, but you tried to push them down for the time being. You knew this would be another weekend of you trying to figure out how to move forward in the complicated situation you found yourself in with Harry, but this time, you weren’t even sure how you could ever face him again.

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

When Harry walked in and found you sitting in his classroom two weeks after the night you shared at Silk & Lace, he was a bit shocked. You had missed his next two classes, and he was sure that you were just going to either drop the course, or force him to drop you due to not continuing to attend. He froze when he saw you, but he was sure it was brief enough that no one else would’ve noticed, but you definitely did. 

You had decided that you needed time before seeing him again, so you skipped out the past two weeks. This past Saturday was the only other shift you had had at the club since that night, and you felt a bit foolish as you hoped that Harry would show up to try and talk to you - to explain what happened and apologize. Of course he didn’t show up. Why would he? He made it clear when he ran out of the room that night that he regretted what the two of you did, and you could only come to the conclusion that he was disgusted with not only himself, but also with you.

Bailey had noticed you had been off, and you had avoided seeing her outside of classes as much as you could. You knew if you went to the cafe with her that she would start to question you as to what was going on. It wasn’t like you could be honest with her at all about what happened with Harry. There were so many layers to that conversation you would have to have, and honestly, you didn’t have the energy for it right now. You kept making up the excuse that you were exhausted from both schoolwork and tutoring, but you knew that would only work for so long.

Once class ended, you let Bailey know that you had something that you needed to take care of between classes, and that you’d catch up with her later. The look she gave you was skeptical, but she didn’t try and pry, which you were grateful for. You busied yourself as your classmates left, acting as if you were organizing things to fit properly in your bag, and once everyone was gone, you approached Harry’s desk with your binder tight against your chest.

Swallowing harshly, you pulled the class transfer form from the front pocket, and you extended it out to him with a shaking hand - tears in your eyes. You felt silly for crying, but you couldn’t help it. The way he left you had you feeling so many different things. Things you still couldn’t properly wrap your head around.

Harry avoided looking up at you as he reached out to take the form, and you watched as he quickly scribbled his signature on the appropriate line before handing it back to you. As he continued to type on the computer, you stood there for a moment as anger started to take you over completely.

“Did you get what you were looking for that night?”

He still continued to type. To ignore.

“Tell me, Professor, what got you off more?” Your tone was sarcastic as you tilted your head to the side. “Was it the taste of my cunt on your tongue, or what is it the fact you had managed to wedge your head between the thighs of someone ten years younger than you?”

Harry’s typing quickly ceased, and he glanced over at the open door before looking up at you. It pissed you off that the sight of his beautiful green eyes behind those glasses still caused a feeling to stir in your stomach, but you pushed it away as he spoke up. “We cannot talk about that here.”

“No? Where would you like to then?” A laugh crawled its way up your throat. “You had the perfect opportunity to talk to me about it that night, but you ran out of me. My thighs were still fucking shaking from my orgasm when you left me there on my knees.”

“Y/N. Lower your voice,” Harry’s tone was clipped as his brows narrowed.

“You made me feel pathetic, but I guess I should’ve known it was never about me. It was just easy for you because the hard part was already done. You knew what I was into. You knew sex wasn’t something I was ashamed of, and you got me to admit to having thoughts I shouldn’t have about you. I fell right into your plan, didn’t I, Harry?”

Lifting your hand, you angrily wiped at the tears that had started to stream down your cheeks as you sucked in a deep breath. It was quiet between the two of you for a moment, so you decided to continue since it was clear Harry wasn’t going to answer you.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, but that’s mostly because I’m ashamed to let anyone know I was too naive to see it for anything more than what it truly was,” you bit at him.

“Yeah, and what was that?” His voice was even harsher now, and it almost made you draw back, but you held strong to what you were saying.

“I was just a fetish to you. A kink. And I should’ve realized that sooner because that’s literally why I’m there at that club. To allow people to indulge in a fantasy, and then go back to their normal lives the next day. I hate myself for thinking that would be any different when it came to you.”

You didn’t allow him the courtesy of giving you a response as you quickly turned around and walked out of his classroom - Harry making no indication of trying to stop you. 

There was a part of you that had been holding tight to the fact that after you got your transfer form signed, that the weight you were feeling in your chest over all of this would be lifted, but now, it was just heavier. Not wanting to wait any longer to get this done and over with, you started down the hallway towards the administrative offices so that you could turn in the form, and get a new course as soon as possible.

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

After taking some time off from the club, giving yourself a nice mental break after everything that had happened with Harry, you found you were a couple hundred bucks short on your rent. Tonight you were back up on the stage for the first time in over a month - doing both a demonstration and a scene. The demonstration went well, however, when your partner bent you over the bench as they usually did, starting up the scene part of all of this, they felt your body instantly tense up.

He walked around to the side of the bench so that he was covering your face from the crowd, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Y/N, are you alright?”

Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself down, but you knew you weren’t going to be able to. You hadn’t done anything sexual wise with anyone since Harry. Hell, you hadn’t done anything sexual outside of scenes in a while before Harry. You knew the minute your partner started to go down on you, all you were going to do was compare. That it wasn’t him. That it didn’t feel as good. 

“No,” you whispered. You knew you needed to call it. “I don’t think I can do this tonight.”

“That’s alright,” your partner ran a tender can down your back to soothe you before helping you stand up. “I’m glad you’re telling me. Let’s get you untied, okay?”

Nodding, he turned you away from the audience and took you off the stage to untie you so that you weren’t in front of everyone when you were this vulnerable. The person that always helped set up the stage came over with your robe, and they helped you into it once your body was free of the cord knots.

“Thank you guys,” you wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked between the two of them. “I’m sorry. I’m just not in the right state of mind. The demonstration was okay…I just can’t do scenes right now.”

“Y/N,” your partner walked forward and pulled you into their chest. Leaning into him, you wrapped your arms around his torso as you sighed happily.

It had been a while since you had someone hug you like this. You had closed yourself off from everyone over these past few weeks after everything happened. Even though isolation was never your intention, it was ultimately the result of how you were choosing to cope with your current situation.

You remained in your partner’s arms for just a while before pulling back. “I needed that.”

“If you need anything else, you let me know. We’re all here for you.”

One thing about the club - they took everyone’s mental health very seriously. If anyone was struggling, everyone rallied together to do whatever was needed to help. You had no worries about your money after calling the scene tonight as the owners have always made it very clear that you would never be penalized for tapping out of something you didn’t feel comfortable with. That’s one of the main reasons you decided to join their team here. They actually cared about the well being of their employees.

Deciding that you needed to call it an early night, you started to walk towards your private room, and as you did, you heard your name being called from a distance. You stopped, eyes glancing around to search the groups of people around you before they landed on him.

Harry.

With a twitching jaw, you quickly turned away and started walking towards your original destination at a faster pace. You had nothing to say to him, and as far as you were concerned, there was nothing of worth he could say to you either. Harry ended up catching up to you, falling into a perfect pace with your steps, but you kept your sight forward.

“Y/N, please,” there was a hint of pleading to his tone, but you wouldn’t let it shake you. “I just want to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Harry - especially after you waited this long.”

“I know, alright? I know that I fucked up, but I do want to explain. I know I don’t deserve it. I know that I hurt you, and I feel like the biggest fuck-up in the world for that. I just…there’s things that I wish I could’ve told you that night. Things that I find really hard to talk about and explain. I’ve worked through it as best as I could to get to this point, and I feel ready to talk about it with you,” Harry had to resist reaching out to grab your hand, or to even just touch your wrist. 

You stopped walking after hearing what he had to say, and you gave yourself a moment before looking over at him. It was hard to believe, but you had almost forgotten just how handsome he was after going without seeing him for some time. With his chiseled jawline, and his sculpted features, he truly was one of the prettiest people you had ever come across in your life. Your mind and your heart were at war with each other. Your mind said to continue telling him to fuck off - that he had done enough, and you had finally started to move on. But your heart was eager to have him explain what happened as his demeanor did give off the impression that he was feeling guilty about it all.

“I don’t want to talk here,” Harry continued. “You said that I only wanted you here so that I could forget about you the next day and carry on with my normal life, but that’s not the case. So, I don’t want to do this here tonight. This place may have had me start seeing you in a different light, however, I don’t want you just up on that stage or in your room. Would you feel comfortable coming back to mine once you’re ready to go?”

Looking around, you wrapped your arms around yourself, and you brushed your palms up and down the outside of your arms - feeling small for the first time ever under his gaze. “I’ll think about it. I’ll have an answer for you once I’m done getting changed.”

“Take however long you need,” Harry nodded as he tucked his hands into the pockets of trousers. “I won’t be going anywhere until either you’re coming with me, or you tell me to leave.”

Your eyes trailed over him for a moment. “Okay,” you whispered before starting towards the hallway that you had been aiming for all along.

Once you got into your room, you dropped your arms back down by your side - shaking them out. You walked over to your wardrobe, and you pulled off your robe and the lingerie you had worn tonight, and you started to change back into a pair of mom jeans and a plain t-shirt. Walking over to your vanity, you sat down and stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You knew that you were stalling, but you were nervous.

As much as you were leaning more towards hearing Harry out, you also were worried that if things didn’t go your way, you’d be right back to step one when it came to trying to heal from this whole situation. You weren’t sure how you would handle having to try to get over him all over again when you thought there was a chance this could actually work out for the two of you.

“One more night,” you whispered to your reflection. “The only other chance you’ll give him, and that’s it.”

You pushed yourself up and grabbed your bag, draping the strap over your shoulder before heading back out into the main floor of the club. Looking around, your eyes searched for Harry, and soon you found him at the bar - hunched over what appeared to be a glass of bourbon. You rolled your shoulders back as you walked over to him. Raising your arm, you rested your elbow up against the bar as you slipped between two barstools with your body turned to face Harry’s.

“Ready?” You asked after clearing your throat.

Harry jumped a bit at the sound of your voice, and his lips parted as he raised his eyebrows. “You’ll come with me?”

“Yep. Let’s go before I change my mind. I’ll follow you to your place in my car.”

Not having to be told twice, Harry stood from the bar and threw a twenty down to cover his drink and a nice tip before hovering his hand over your lower back. “After you.”

The two of you walked out of the club and towards the parking lot, and you stopped by your car once you reached it. Harry pointed a few rows back to his own car. “I’ll go ahead and pull around so that you can follow behind me. Are you sure you don’t just want me to drive?”

“No thank you,” you shook your head. “I’d like to have my car in case I change my mind and want to leave.”

A frown tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips before he nodded. “Right. Well…I’ll see you soon.”

You kept your eyes on his back as he walked towards his car, and when you saw him getting into his car, you got into yours. Once you were following behind him, it only took about fifteen minutes until the two of you were heading down a driveway - parking in front of a medium sized home. You weren’t sure why it surprised you that a single man like Harry lived in a house, and not some type of flat in the busier part of town, but there was something very appealing about it.

Getting out of your car, you trailed behind him a bit as you made your way onto the front porch, and soon you were stepping into the foyer of his home. You looked around while shrugging the strap of your bag off your shoulder - setting it on the small table that was flush against the wall by the door.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Harry asked as he shrugged off the blazer he was wearing, and you watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to the creases of his elbows. You couldn’t help but remember what Bailey had said that day at the cafe, about how hot it was whenever he did that, and you hated that your mind was going there when you still wanted to be angry with him.

“Please.”

“Let me get you into the living room, and then I’ll grab us some.”

You followed Harry through a short hallway, and soon you were in a room with a couple of armchairs and a couch. A large rug was splayed in the middle of the floor, and a decently sized TV was mounted on the wall right across from the couch. There was a bookshelf filled to the brim tucked inside the corner, and a fireplace was built into one of the walls.

“Please sit, I’ll be just a moment,” Harry gestured in front of him as he spoke, and you watched as he disappeared a little further down the hall. 

Sighing, you dropped down into the armchair that was furthest away from the couch, and you nervously ran your hands up and down your thighs. It didn’t take long for Harry to return - extending a glass of bourbon out in your direction, which you took with a soft ‘thank you’.

It felt like a bit of deja vu when Harry sat down on the couch that was diagonally across from you. Crossing one leg over the other, you rested your glass on the top of your knee. Part of you wondered if you should speak up first, but you decided against it. He had asked you here to talk, and you had said everything you needed to say to him in his classroom the last time you saw him. It was his turn to do the talking.

“I want to start by saying, I don’t regret what happened that night, and that me leaving had nothing at all to do with you.”

You kept your eyes down on your drink as Harry spoke - running your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “You’re giving me the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ spiel?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, but you still kept your head down. “I know it sounds so stereotypical, but I have a lot more to explain, alright? I promise that it really was all me. This whole thing is my fault. My anxiety got the best of me that night, and it wasn’t because of what we were doing. I enjoyed every fucking minute of what happened up until my mind decided to go to a dark place that I’ve tried my hardest to forget.

“It had been so long since I had seen someone on their knees like that for me. It’s been a couple of years now. My girlfriend of six years just up and left me one day with no note while I was at work. We had been engaged for six months. I came home to an empty apartment, and that was that. I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in anyone since then.”

“What?” Your head snapped up at the last part of his statement. “You mean…not a single person - not doing anything at all in-”

“Two years,” Harry nodded. “That’s right.”

Each of you took a second to sip at your drinks, but instead of looking back down, you kept your eyes on him as he started to speak again.

“I got overwhelmed because I honestly didn’t expect to feel as much as I did for you once I allowed myself to give in, but kissing you Y/N - that was the most exhilarating thing to happen to me in years. And when I say years, I mean many. Looking back, my ex and I didn’t have a perfect relationship. We grew comfortable. I had suspected she may be cheating, but I looked past it because I didn’t really think there was anyone else out there for me. I didn’t want to go through the trouble of starting all over. Having to date after all that time is intimidating,” Harry ran his fingers through the front of his hair. “I still don’t know if she ever was seeing someone else, and I’m okay with not knowing for sure.

“So, when I saw you down on your knees for me like that, and knowing how vulnerable I was going to be with you, I got scared. I hope you don’t take what I’m about to say next the wrong way, but I was worried that what was going to happen was going to mean way more to me than it was to you. We didn’t discuss what any of it meant, and if it had been just a fun fling for you, I should’ve been okay with that. I would be now, but then, I couldn’t handle it, however, I know I wouldn’t have had a right upset.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Harry held up a hand.

“Just…I guess I’m telling you all of this to let you know how fucking sorry I am, Y/N. I realize how I must’ve made you feel, and I hate that I allowed my own insecurities to get the better of me. I’m an adult. I’m a grown man. I should have talked to you about it instead of just running away,” Harry’s hand shook as he brought his glass back up to his mouth to take a long sip of his liquor.

“I appreciate you being honest with me, but I’m still angry. Just like you said, you’re a grown man, and I understand that anxiety and insecurity can make us feel many different things, but just leaving me on that floor like you did was awful. I felt so worthless. Even though I was the one who got off, I still felt used by you. I see it all the time at the club - people who get off on giving pleasure more than receiving it,” you shifted in your seat a bit. “I thought that’s what had happened. That you just used me to explore that side of you or something, and then you wanted to run off. 

“I am sorry about what happened with you and your ex. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be with someone for that long, and for them to disappear on you out of the blue with no answers. However, I can relate to how your mind probably reacted to that. You thought of every scenario as to why you were just walked out on. It’s a terrible feeling. I want you to know that when I brought you back to my room, I did think that it would be a fun, one-time thing and that we’d move on, but once your mouth was on me, I knew it would be more than that. You took your time to figure out what I liked instead of rushing it, and it had been a while since I had hooked up with someone as well. Not as long as you, but long enough to where it did mean something to me too.”

Harry set his glass down on the coffee table, and he patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Please come sit next to me.”

Hesitation washed over you as you stared at where his hand rested, but eventually you got up and set your drink next to his before sitting down. You still left a good distance between the two of you, but now you were looking into each other’s eyes.

“I’m mad that when I approached you in your classroom, the last time we saw each other, that you didn’t give me any kind of reassurance that you weren’t just using me - especially if you were already starting to work through your reasons why you did what you did,” you told him honestly as you fidgeted with your fingers. 

“I know,” Harry nodded, and he started to reach for your hand, but he stopped himself. He raised his brows in silent permission, but instead of having him be the one to make contact first, you reached forward and grazed the tips of your fingers along the top of his wrist. “I promise that if you give me a chance to make this right, I’ll spend every moment making sure you know that I’m serious about whatever this is. We don’t have to label it right away - we don’t have to label it at all. I would just really like to see where this leads if you’re willing to forgive me.”

Capturing your fingers between his own, Harry then lifted your hands up to his mouth to press kisses to each of your knuckles before sponging one to the inside of your wrist. You wiggled your fingers out of his, and you saw a look of fear flash in his eyes until he felt your palm against his cheek - thumb grazing right underneath his eye. “One more chance, Harry, but that’s it.”

Harry sighed with relief as his eyes fluttered shut, and he cupped your forearm. “Thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve it. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“You don’t deserve it,” you smirked playfully so that he knew you were joking once he blinked his eyes open. “But I know that it takes a lot to be honest with someone like you were with me tonight. It’s not easy, and that alone showed me that you really knew you fucked up.”

“It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable opening up about it to you. I can’t wait to show you how much I want to get to know you.”

Leaning forward, your lips covered Harry’s, and he hummed happily before wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you closer to him so that your chests were flush together - your hand sliding to the bit of his chest that was showing due to a few buttons of his shirt being undone before you mumbled against his mouth.

“I want to get to know you too.”

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

Walking through the hallways of your University after hours, you knew that Harry was still here as you had just texted him to see what he was up to. The two of you exchanged numbers after you left his house a couple of weekends ago, and since then, the two of you had gone on a few dates. It was clear not even halfway through the first date that you had made the right decision by giving him a second chance. He was unlike anyone you had ever allowed to take you out. He opened car doors for you. Pulled your chair out at the table. He even made sure that when you were walking down the street next to each other, that you were always on the inside, and he was always on the outside - closest to the cars. Whenever you got around to meeting his parents, you’d have to thank them for raising him so right.

Harry didn’t know that you would be surprising him here tonight, but something had come over you earlier in the day, and you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer to take the next step with him. It was something the two of you had discussed, but after what happened last time, he said he wanted to take things a bit slower. At this point, you thought he was more scared than you were that you would retreat back into your old headspace, and somehow fall into thinking he was using you again.

You had never spoken with Harry in his office at the University, you had only ever talked to him in his classroom, but you were feeling bold. Adjusting yourself to make sure your trench coat was still covering you completely, the sound of your heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor echoed down the hallway before you were approaching his door. 

Not wanting to falter now, you lifted your fist and knocked against the wooden surface, and you waited until you heard a muffled ‘come in’. 

Fighting off your nerves, you wrapped your hand around the knob and when you walked inside, you watched as Harry moved his head to look around his computer - eyebrows lifting when he saw it was you. “Y/N,” he quickly stood up as you shut the door behind you.

Once he was in front of you, Harry didn’t hold back on pulling you into him immediately. “I wanted to surprise you,” you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”

“Have you missed me, baby?” Harry smirked before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you tilted your head to the side, and you quickly let your tongue enter his mouth. 

Harry sighed through his nose as he moved the two of you forward so your back was against the door, and he reached down to flick the lock on the knob. His hands gripped to your hips as you arched into him while deepening your kiss even further. It only grew heavier from there, and the next thing you knew, your ankles were crossed against his lower back as he walked you over to his desk. He sat you down on the top of it - knees locked against his hips as you ravished each other’s mouths.

“I have something for you,” you pulled back after a moment, resting your forehead against his.

“Another surprise? I’m more than happy with just having you here.”

“I think you’ll like this one too.”

Your fingers started to undo the buttons of your trench coat once Harry created a bit of distance, however, he didn’t leave the space between your legs. Once your coat was open, you shrugged it off to reveal a mauve pink, lace bodysuit, and you heard the breath that caught in the back of Harry’s throat.

“Y/N,” he whispered as his hands came out to touch you. “I’m…”

“Sit down.”

Harry took another step back, and you lifted your foot to press the heel of your boot against his chest. He stumbled back into his seat before you stood up, only to lower yourself down on your knees between his legs. “Is this okay?” You asked. “I really want to do this for you. Please let me make you feel good.”

It was only a beat of silence before Harry nodded, and just when you thought he was going to go shy on you, one side of his lips curled up. “Go ahead, honey,” he reached down with one hand to undo the buckle of his belt. “Show me what that pouty mouth can do.”

Hearing him speak to you like that again for the first time since you had initially given in had something inside you light up, and you swatted his hand out of the way so you could pull his belt off completely. It was no time before his briefs and his trousers were down around his ankles - his already hard prick slapping up against his stomach. You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of his cock.

“Now I’m angry at you again,” you commented as you looked up into his eyes while wrapping your hand around his shaft.

Harry hissed at the contact - nails digging into the arms of his desk chair. “Why’s that?”

“I’m angry that you didn’t let me have this before. That you’ve been keeping this from me,” you clicked your tongue against your teeth as you shook your head. “We could’ve been having so much fun.” You trailed the tips of your fingers over his beautiful fern tattoos. “I really like these.”

Gathering spit on your tongue, you spat down on his tip, and let it drip down before you started to work your palm over his length. Harry’s hips snapped up subconsciously - causing a cheshire grin to stretch across your lips. 

“I guess I didn’t think this all the way through,” you licked at his slit, and you moaned softly at the taste of the precome leaking from him. “I should’ve brought some rope to tie you up. I could keep you from being so squirmy.”

“Sorry,” Harry gasped as you started to kiss down his shaft. “It just feels so good.”

“Don’t apologize. I like it.”

After planting one final soft kiss against his balls, you lifted back up to close your lips down around his tip. You licked at the prominent vein that ran under his head, and you kept your eyes fixed on Harry as you slowly sunk down on him. 

“Fuck,” he whined as he reached out to gather your hair into his palm - wrapping it around his hand one time to make sure he kept it out of your face. You heard his breath shallow out as you nuzzled your nose into the line of Harry right below his belly button. “You’re unbelievable, baby.”

You lowered yourself down just a bit further before swallowing around him which caused him to moan out with his eyes now rolling into the back of his head. Spit dripped down his length and started to wet the groomed thatch of hair around the base of his cock. You actually liked giving head, and it had been a while since you had done it, so you knew you were enjoying this almost as much as he was.

Giving your throat a bit of a break, you moved back up to suck on his tip as your hand worked the slick part of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He leaked more onto your tongue and you parted your lips so he could see you licking up every last bit of it.

“Look at you,” Harry’s chest heaved as his eyes were now on you again. “Letting me work your tight little throat.”

You moaned around him as you lowered yourself back down - feeling yourself growing wet against your bodysuit. Bobbing your head up and down, you started working him harder, and you felt Harry’s hips stuttering again.

“Y/N,” his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you off his length - making his tip escape your tight lips with a ‘pop’. “I need to be inside of you.”

Nodding, you lifted your hand to wipe the back of it over your mouth as you reached down to your coat on the floor. You dug inside the pocket, and pulled out the condom that you had stashed away before you left your apartment.

“I came prepared, obviously,” you smirked as Harry helped you stand up, and you found yourself, once again, on the top of his desk.

Harry reached down and popped open the buttons on your bodysuit to have your cunt completely exposed, and he ran the tips of his fingers up and down your slit while pecking kisses to your lips. “This is by far the sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You mean showing up here, sucking on your cock and letting you take me on top of your desk?”

Smacking his fingertips against your clit, your pelvis jolted out towards Harry before he rubbed circles against it to ease the sting. “So sassy, but still so sweet. How about you slide that rubber on my cock so I can fill you up with it?”

Your hands trembled with anticipation as you ripped the packaging open, and you let your palm fist him a couple more times before rolling the condom down over his already wet length. 

Holding each other’s eyes, you guided Harry’s tip to your entrance and he tilted his hips forward just slightly to have it press inside of you. You gasped as your breath started to get siphoned from your lungs while he slowly started to enter you entirely - taking his time and treasuring you.

“Such a snug little thing,” he muttered as he dropped the pad of thumb to rub against your throbbing bud. “Swallowing me right up though, aren’t you?”

Your lips rolled into your mouth, and your teeth bared down against them until Harry was fully inside you. From there, your hands flew up to grip at his biceps - your fingers sinking into the dips of his muscles.

“Harry,” you whimpered, feeling so overwhelmed from how full you felt. “I-”

“I know, baby,” his lips sponged against your temple before he trailed them down to the corner of your lips. “It’s a tight fit, but I’ll get you stretched out.”

“No,” your lips pouted as you spread your legs further to pull him even closer, and you clenched down around him. “I don’t want to. I like it tight.”

Harry grunted at the feeling of your walls closing down on his prick, and he pulled the top of your bodysuit down just enough to have your tits springing free. Looking down, he took in the sight of your naked breasts for the first time - licking over his bottom lip.

“How’d I get so fucking lucky, hm? Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, and she’s wrapped around my cock,” he palmed at your chest before pinching your nipples. “You don’t know how happy I am that you gave me a second chance, Y/N.”

“Just promise me you’re not going to leave me with jello legs after making me come again,” you joked as you grazed your palm against his jawline. 

“Never.” Although you were joking, Harry’s voice went serious. “I’m not letting you get away.”

Drawing his hips back, you whined as Harry kept them there for a moment before sinking back in again. It was then he started up a slow pace with your mouths hovering over one another as you stared into each other’s eyes. He was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed, and you had hardly been going at it.

“More,” you whimpered. “Want more.”

Harry wrapped an arm around your waist, locking his forearm against your lower back to have you arching a bit, and his other hand rested against the side of your neck as his thrusts became powered with intent. If you wanted more - he’d have no problem giving you more. The only issue was that he knew it was going to be hard for him to last with how long he had gone without, but he would try to give it to you as long as possible.

“Is that it? Is that more?”

“Yes,” you moaned loudly. “Yes, Harry. Yes.”

He shushed you as he pressed the pad of his thumb against your mouth. “Careful, baby. I know it’s late here, but I might not be the only one still around.”

Separating your lips, you let his digit land against your tongue, and you closed down around it to keep yourself quiet. Harry let out a laugh of disbelief as he stared down at you, and he shook his head.

“Fucking hell,” his hips snapped against yours, and if his desk wasn’t bolted to the ground, you were sure it would be halfway across the room by now. “You like that?”

You nodded as you didn’t cower away from his gaze, and you started to lift your hips to meet his thrusts - that patch of hair surrounding his cock that you had wetted earlier with your spit hitting against your clit so perfectly. Reaching forward, you started to undo the buttons of Harry’s dress shirt, letting it open completely and your eyes widened as the sight of the large butterfly tattooed on his abdomen. You had seen those swallows so they weren’t a surprise, but the one in the center of his torso stunned you a bit.

He was so beautiful. So toned. It blew your mind that he was keeping all of this hidden underneath his dress clothes. You could tell that he was fit, but seeing him practically naked had you realizing just how muscular he was.

As you felt your orgasm approaching, the tips of your teeth clamped down on his thumb, and you fought to keep your eyes open.

“About to come?” Harry asked, and you nodded in response. “Let’s go, honey. Soak me.”

It was like his words truly commanded it, and you felt your climax wash over you. You sighed around his thumb before closing your eyes and letting your lips part. It felt like you could hardly hold yourself up at this point, but you wanted to keep giving it back to Harry so that you could feel him finish for the first time too.

Once Harry rode you through your orgasm completely, you opened your eyes again, and you ran your palms up and down bare chest. “It’s your turn now.”

Locking in, you met his thrusts even more than you were before, and this time, you shoved your thumb into his mouth instead. His eyes widened a bit, but then you saw his signature smirk peeking through as he started to suck on it - just as you had his a few moments ago. 

“Come on, Harry.”

Playing a bit dirty, you clenched around him, and that was it for him. He groaned as white ropes of pleasure filled the condom while he continued to pump into you before he collapsed against your chest. You pulled your thumb from his mouth so that you could wrap your arms around him - keeping him close to you.

“That was so good,” you praised him, pressing kisses against his cheek. “Oh my god.”

Harry lifted up after a minute and held your face in his hands before pulling you into a passionate kiss. Your heart swelled as you started to tingle even more than you were from your orgasm, and once you pulled away, small giggles escaped your mouth.

“Y/N,” his nose bumped against the tip of yours. “I want you. We can be smart about this, and technically you’re no longer my student so we’re not crossing lines now, but we still have to be careful.”

“I know. I want you too, Harry. It’s hard to explain how I feel around you, but I just…I want to be around you all the time. That’s why I showed up tonight. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

The smile that crossed his features caused one to press onto your lips as well, and the two of you shared a small fit of laughter.

“So, we’re doing this?” You asked.

“Yeah, honey,” Harry nodded as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re doing this.”

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