#FineLineFicChallenge

[strawberriestyles]

Watermelon Sugar (High)

Your relationship with Harry is fairly new, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t use a little extra flavor.

Word count: 4.3k

Author’s note: Here’s my piece for @hsogolden‘s Fine Line Fic Challenge!! I had this idea almost immediately after I heard the song for the first time and then Brianne posted the challenge and it just worked out SO perfectly.  I know it’s been quite some time since I’ve posted a one shot. I hope y’all like this. Please, forgive me and let me know what you think!! Xx

For the first time this year, snow has begun to blanket the ground. It’s pretty as it falls, but it’s turned into slush on the roads and the cold has frozen patches of slick ice at the edges of intersections. Instead of the typical twenty minutes it takes you to get home from work, you were on the streets for nearly an hour, narrowly avoiding collisions.

The heat of your apartment is a relief as you rush through the doorway, a package clutched in your arms, toeing off your boots at the edge of the rug. Already, it’s grown dark outside, and the front hall is unnavigable without any lights on. You stumble over a discarded bag as you flip a switch with your elbow. With this newfound light, you dump your things on the bench directly across from the front door and carry the box you found outside, addressed to you, down the hall and into the kitchen.

You reach into the kitchen drawer beside the sink and pull out a pair of scissors, using one of the blades to slice into the tape running the length of the box. Then you drop the shears on the counter and peel back the cardboard flaps. There are layers of baby pink tissue paper cushioning the contents of the package and it crinkles between your fingers as you dig beneath it.

If anyone else was around, you would have to hide your face. There, at the bottom of the box, wrapped in transparent plastic, are three pairs of sheer panties, a glittery black mesh bra, and a lingerie set complete with garters and clips and elastic straps. You’d forgotten about the order you placed nearly two months ago at a party your friend threw. You hadn’t even been inclined to purchase anything, but the pressure you felt to support the hostess had forced you to cave.

You set the plastic-wrapped garments on the counter and drop the box onto the kitchen floor, but something rattles around in its depths. Tissue paper tears as you squat down to slide your hand along the bottom cardboard panel. A smaller, glossy box is hiding in the corner. When you pull it from beneath the tissue paper, it looks like the packaging for a tube of lipstick. The box is hot pink, almost red, with bright green script that reads High, and in smaller letters above the word, Watermelon Sugar.

It takes a few flips of the box for you to realize that it’s a lubricant. You are completely sure that you did not order this. So sure that you’re ready to toss it in the trash or send it right back to the return address. You have the box hanging over the garbage before you remember.

A free sample. The consultant has said something about receiving a free sample when you spent a certain amount. But this? A fruit-flavored lube? You’re not sure about this.

After a moment of hesitation, you close the trash can and begin to peel back the tiny cardboard flaps at one end of the box. You pull out a clear plastic tube filled with pink gel, a pump on one end. Silver lettering sparkles in the kitchen light.

What are you to do with this?

Physically, of course, you understand its purpose. But the idea of it makes your skin hot, even with the chilling press of winter upon your apartment’s windows. After all, your relationship is new and fresh. It’s too early for this.

Harry.

The thought jolts you from your train of consciousness. He’s supposed to be coming over for takeout and a movie tonight. When you glance at the clock and see that it’s already past the time you agreed upon, you tense. Perhaps he’s been slowed by the slick roads the same way you were.

Then there’s a soft knock upon the door. You hear it sliding across the rug in the entryway and Harry’s, “Hey, love! ‘S me.”

You panic as the door closes. Harry is stamping snow off of his boots. You rush back across the kitchen and begin stuffing plastic-wrapped underwear back into the box on the floor, covering it in shreds of pink tissue paper, burying your bottle of watermelon-flavored lube at the bottom.

“Whatcha got there?” Harry asks as he rounds the corner from the hallway.

Your back is turned to him and your fingers fumble with the flaps of the box as you shut it. Air spills from your lips in relief.

“It’s—um—a Christmas present,” you rush, spinning around with the box propped in the crooks of your elbows.

Harry peers at you from beneath locks of snow-dampened hair. There are still clumps of ice stuck to the ends by one temple. He has his hands tucked into the front pocket of his green hoodie and his toes wiggle against the floorboards from within thick woolen socks. You’re sure you look frazzled by comparison.

“For me?” he ponders, eyes lighting up as his face stretches into a delighted grin. “Can I take a peek?”

“Absolutely not.”

It’s then, when you’ve reeled in your utter panic and allowed your gaze to drift across the kitchen, that you find your mistake. The lubricant package—bright pink and glossy and obnoxious—is still standing on the countertop above the trash. Light glares off of its surface. You try to keep your demeanor as calm as possible.

“Just one little look? Like, one second. An’ then yeh can cover my eyes.”

“Uh, no.”

“Yeh’re sure?”

You’re creeping sideways across the kitchen, your eyes now trained on Harry, with his alarmingly mischievous smirk. He’s following you and his strides are larger than yours, even if you weren’t shuffling.

“Please, just—”

“Because I don’ like surprises, love.”

You’re there, sliding the larger box into a single arm and reaching behind you blindly with the other hand. But Harry is right in front of you, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to your hairline, his hand snaking over the countertop. You spit out a sharp protest, but he has the lubricant package balanced between his fingers and he’s already across the kitchen, leaning against the sink, tilting the box to read it in the sparse light.

“Watermelon sugar?”

Your skin feels hot and clammy and your feet have been glued to the floorboards. There’s a furrow in his brow as his eyes scan the text, and then you watch as his expression shifts, as his eyes widen ever so slightly, as his jaw ticks.

“It’s not a Christmas present,” you mutter, dry-throated. “It’s a sample. It came with an order.”

Harry’s gaze flickers to you and then back to the pink box. His thumb traces the embossed words along its surface.

“What did yeh order, then?”

If you could be swallowed up by the earth, this would be the moment for it. You did not order any of the items you’re holding for Harry, or even with Harry in mind. You had only been on a single date with him at that point, and not a very promising one. He’d spilled red wine all over your new sweater and scratched the corner of your car trying to back out of your apartment complex’s parking lot. It’s incredible to see how your dynamic has shifted. But your sex life is even newer than your relationship.

You clear your throat and press your lips together. “Uh, just underwear.”

Harry finally looks at you, and his face seems brighter, though there’s not even a hint of a smile playing at his mouth. “‘S in there?”

You nod faintly, and he tosses the carton he’s holding across the counter, where it tumbles to a stop beside the stove.

“Let’s see.”

“Harry...” Your arms tighten instinctually around the box.

“I mean, yeh don’ have to, of course. But I’d love if yeh showed me.”

“Just quick?”

His smirk finally returns, though his eyes have darkened and his hands have curled themselves around the edge of the sink. The light above the window casts his face in shadowed shapes.

“Would prefer if I could see ‘em on yeh.”

“And if I don’t wanna put them on?”

“Fair enough.” He studies your face and then frowns. “Am I pushin’ yeh? Don’ mean to.”

“No, no.” Your teeth dig into your bottom lip with bruising force. “I just—” Your eyes fall, dancing around his gaze.

“If yeh’re not comfortable with it, tha’s fine, love.” Harry pads across the space between you. He looks down at the box you’re still holding and nods toward the countertop, prompting you to set it down. Then one of his palms is curved around your jaw and his nose is bumping yours. What little air you had to breathe is stolen by him.

“Should let yeh know, though,” he continues, thumb stroking your cheek where your skin burns against his touch, “that ‘m already half-hard.”

You’re still in your thick coat and the heat of your body is trapped, broiling you until you feel that your flesh might peel right off the bone. Harry must be able to feel it because his fingers tickle down your neck until he can pull at your buttons. His face withdraws from yours and you’re chasing it, the terrible proximity of his lips. He chuckles.

“If yeh don’ wanna put the panties on, no problem.”

You’re reaching for him again and this time he relents, fitting his mouth to yours while he tugs your jacket down your arms. There’s still a fresh humming in your veins whenever he kisses you, as if it’s the first time. The thought of him wanting this as much as you do leaves you pumping with adrenaline.

“We’re tryin’ out that watermelon stuff, though,” he mutters against your tingling lips. His fingers hook beneath the hem of your shirt, curling against your hips. “So we’ll just get yeh completely naked, yeah? No underwear involved.”

In another moment, your shirt lies on the floor with your coat and your pants are halfway down your thighs. The warmth you felt within the confines of your clothes evaporates as if it were never there. Harry lifts you up onto the edge of the counter, sponging wet kisses along your chest, wiggling your pants over the bend of your knees. Your hands slip under the back of his hoodie and he flinches when your cold fingertips meet his spine.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

Harry reaches back to tug his hoodie over his head, mussing his hair and riding up the shirt he has on underneath. He scoffs at your apology and allows you to peel his t-shirt off.

“‘S okay. I’ll warm yeh right up.”

His words ring true as he takes your hands in his, twining your fingers together, and closes his lips around your collarbone. His hot breath unfurls against your skin and leaves you shuddering. Your knuckles knock against the countertop.

“Better?” he murmurs against the base of your throat before sliding his mouth up along the underside of your jaw. His lips find yours again and his tongue flicks at the careless part of them.

“Yes,” you manage to muster. And you are warmer. The blood surging through your body might as well be some molten metal, liquid silver sloshing around your insides.

“Get this off then, yeah?” His fingers slip from yours and deftly unclip your bra. The straps fall down your arms and Harry lets it tumble to his feet, his attention focused solely on the way your nipples have already begun to pebble against the chill air. “Look so pretty.”

You let out a labored breath as he traces one of your nipples with his tongue. Your fingers catch in the loose curls at the back of his head, nails biting into his scalp. The sound of his lips popping from your skin distracts you from his hands, wiggling your panties beneath your bottom, dropping them to the floor to rest beside your discarded bra.

“Wanna get it out for me, love?” he mutters against your chest, teeth grazing the curve of one breast and leaving chills in their wake.

“What?” you breathe.

“The lube, baby. Where’s the lube?” He lifts his eyes so he can gaze up at you, peppering just a few more kisses to your chest. You don’t notice him pulling the chunky rings off his fingers until you hear them clinking together into the pocket of his jeans.

“Oh.” Your hands are clumsy as you open up the box beside you, rifling through the tissue paper to find the little plastic bottle. Harry’s palms trail up your thighs and you shiver so violently that you fumble the bottle twice before you’re able to extract it from the wrappings.

“Thank you.” He takes the bottle from your hand and pops the cap off the pump, tossing it noisily across the counter. He squirts a generous amount of glimmering pink, translucent gel onto the fingers of his right hand, where the prints of his rings still glow just above his knuckles. His thumb spreads the gel along his digits and he rubs it back and forth to warm it against his skin.

“Yeh ready?” he asks, crooking your knee up with his clean hand and leaning forward to sponge kisses up the inside of your thigh. For a moment you forget that his question requires a response. You forget that you require breaths.

“Love,” he prompts, pausing at the middle of your thigh and settling his cheek against your skin. You can hear the lubricant as it shifts between his fingers. His eyes find yours.

“Yes,” you answer finally. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Harry hums. He turns to press a final kiss to your leg and then straightens up. With a gentle bump of his nose to yours, he slides his middle finger inside you. Even despite his effort to warm it, the lube isn’t nearly up to temperature. Your fingers clamp onto his shoulder, legs twitching at the chill of his touch, body tensing.

“‘M sorry, baby,” Harry mutters, pecking your chin. “Christ, yeh’re fuckin’ warm.” His other hand kneads at your propped up thigh as he begins to pump his finger into you. The sound it makes brings an uncomfortable heat to your face, but Harry only sighs into your burning cheek. Your eyes are drawn to the shift of his forearm, the rippling of the corded muscles just beneath his skin, under his eagle tattoo.

“I want another,” you whisper into his ear. You can smell his freshly washed hair, sweet and fruity beneath the sharp musk of his cologne. The hand you’ve been using to support yourself on the countertop combs through his soft curls and then folds them between your fingers.

Harry grunts, nipping at the skin just behind your jaw, just under your ear. He wiggles a second finger past your entrance and this time the cold is less of a shock. Instead, you’re dazed by the way he separates the two fingers apart, spreading you open, and then tips them up toward your belly. You release a staggered moan and lick at the dry flesh of your parted lips. It's as if he’s watched your tongue move. Harry draws back from your neck and finds your mouth, continuing to push his fingers into you while he kisses you until your lips are tingling and swollen and feel as though they could never be dry again.

By the time Harry slides a third finger into you, the countertop has become slick. You cling to him and your breath hitches when he stretches you open again, rubbing his thumb over your clit. A curse slips out under your breath. The smug look Harry gives you is almost too much.

“Gonna let me get a taste, then?” he asks, pressing his hand against your hip to keep you from creeping toward the edge of the counter. “’S flavored, yeah? Meant to be eaten. Want me to taste it?"

You open your mouth to answer and choke on the words. Harry’s fingers are buried to the hilts, his palm flat against your clit, a cocky lilt to his mouth. “Sorry, love. Didn’ catch that."

You want to push him away, but your hands tug at him in spite of his teasing. You resort to a vexed nod. Harry wastes no time. He draws his fingers free, leaving you achingly empty, dripping lubricant, and sinks to his knees.

His movements displace air and you catch the faint, tart scent of fruit, like flavored candy. It makes your mouth water but you barely have time to process it before Harry’s sticky hand finds the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he’s pressing his lips to the skin just above your pubic bone.

There’s no teasing like you suspected. You wait for another wandering kiss and instead you feel Harry’s tongue dip between your folds, licking up the uncomfortable wetness that’s begun to collect there. His nose flattens against your skin.

“Oh, fuck,” you stutter out when he moans, lip vibrating against your clit. Your hands clamp onto the edge of the counter, the pressure biting your fingers.

Harry’s clean hand loops around to the bottom of your spine, yanking you forward until you’re dangling precariously, held in place by nothing but his face and his shoulders, digging into your legs. You gasp and then choke on air when he gives your clit a rough pull.

“Tastes so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs when he separates for a breath. Your hazy eyes lower to look at him, and in the dim light from above the sink you find his mouth glimmering and wet. “Could lick yeh clean an’ still want more.”

You let out a weak, whimpering huff of acknowledgement, but he’s burying his tongue deep in your pussy before you’ve even finished. One of your hands stumbles across the counter to find a point of balance behind you and the other grasps at the topmost tendrils of Harry’s curls, knuckles knocking against his scalp. As if you could be wetter, you feel his spit dribbling down to pool underneath you while he licks and sucks and bites at you, obscene sounds echoing through the empty rooms of your flat.

The next moan you let out is so broken that if anyone heard it without context they wouldn’t be able to place it, or to even confidently state that the sound was made by a person. Harry slurps at you, ravenous still, his eyes screwed shut and a focused crease set deep between his brows. The palm you’re using for support is slick with sweat and when it starts to slip, the tug you give his hair releases a heavy grunt from his full mouth. He shifts beneath you, lubed fingers peeling from your thigh and pressing against your abdomen. When you can decipher his movements and realize that he’s pressing himself up against the cabinets, hips rutting in a disjointed, desperate pattern, you come so hard you nearly tumble right off the counter.

Harry is on his feet to catch you, tipping you onto your back and shimmying his mouth back between your legs to work you through your high. Your nails bite into his shoulder blades, belly convulsing until you’re spent. You push defeatedly at his head until he relents with a final kiss to your sensitive clit.

“So fuckin’ good,” Harry hums as he laces his clean fingers with yours. Your chest heaves and your head tips to the side. He kisses your tummy, just under the end of your ribcage. “Wanna fuck yeh but I’d never last, love. ‘M sorry.”

You shake your head, dazed, squeezing his hand. You don’t think you’d be able to handle it, anyway, and from the way he was grinding against your kitchen cabinets, you’re sure he’s right.

“Yeh wanna taste it, baby?” Harry asks. "So sweet.” He taps your mouth with a fingertip so sticky it pulls at your skin. You part your lips, still vibrating with the effects of your orgasm, and he dips his middle finger past them, the same finger he began this mess with. As much as you’ve been smelling candy, this tastes like a bowl of fresh fruit, like citrus and strawberries and a thick slice of juicy watermelon, and you understand Harry’s greedy tongue at once. It’s like a frozen smoothie in the suffocating heat of the tropics. You lick from his knuckle to his fingertip and then suck on the digit until your mouth is full of the sugared taste.

Harry groans. “So fuckin’ sexy, yeh know that?” He kisses the valley between your breasts, and his chin still feels sticky.

“Wanna taste it on you,” you mumble around his finger. He pulls it from your mouth and blinks up at you.

“What?”

A fresh wave of heat washes over your skin, but you nod, lifting yourself up onto an elbow. “Let me lick it off you, Harry.”

His head drops forward, suddenly too heavy for his neck, and he’s pulling you off the countertop, gathering you in his arms to press a feverish kiss to your lips. You crumple to your knees when he lets you go, ripping open the button of his jeans and tugging them over his ass, followed by his briefs. He stumbles out of both and then kicks them onto your pile of clothing.

Harry’s cock is hard and bright red and leaking. You straighten up and run your thumb along the side of it, the slightest touch, but Harry huffs in blissful relief. He forgets about the lubricant for a long moment before he tastes its ghost on his lips. His hand creeps across the counter for the bottle.

“Let me,” you whisper, holding out an expectant hand. Harry drops the bottle into your palm and you pour out three pumps, rubbing it between your fingers to give him the same courtesy he gave to you.

When you set the bottle to the side and wrap your coated hand around Harry’s length, air hisses between his teeth. You smell nothing but summer and sweetness, and your thumb has barely swiped over the tip of him before your tongue follows. And this taste is somehow better, fruit mixed with the salty flavor of him. Your lips close around him and you press forward until he reaches the back of your mouth.

Harry moans, deep and gravelly, and his closest hand grips the edge of the counter the same way yours did just a few minutes ago. His chin falls to his chest. “Taste good, baby?” he asks brokenly. “Yeh like it?”

You hum around him and he gasps, balling his free hand up into a tight fist. “No, no,” he protests. “No, just use your words for me. Tell me.”

You slide off of him grudgingly and lick at your lips, glancing up into his flushed face, his hooded eyes. “Tastes so good,” you confirm, placing your hand on the front of his thigh over the tattoo of a roaring tiger.

“Wanted to hide it from me,” he says. “Aren’ yeh glad I saw it?”

You nod and pump your hand up and down his cock, coating the area you’ve already sucked clean. Harry gulps and lets you wrap your lips back around him. This time, you take as much of him as you can handle and then begin to bob your head, letting the flavored gel glaze your tongue and fill your mouth, twisting your fist around the base of him.

“Shit,” Harry wheezes. His thumb catches on your cheek as he strokes your skin. The girth of him makes your jaw ache, but his gentle touch somehow soothes you. “Oh, fuck, yeh make me feel so fuckin’ good,” he praises. And that’s enough for you to take another extra bit of him into your mouth, even though it brings you close to gagging.

Harry chants a string of expletives when your bobbing hastens and your fist tightens around him in a quick squeeze. You’ve licked almost his entire dick clean. You remove your fingers in an effort to swallow even more of him, steadying yourself by gripping onto both of his sides.

Harry’s hand clamps around a fistful of your hair and you can feel strands sticking to his fingers, adhering to his skin. Your scalp bites as he pulls you even farther up his cock. He whimpers at the way your tongue presses at the underside of him and the sound you make as you struggle to breathe air through your nose. And then a desperate moan, almost a cry, rips from him as he finds release, lurching forward and filling your throat. You can see the muscles in his stomach spasming. Your fingers curl into his hips and your eyes tear up but you let him finish, thrusting shallowly but frantically until he’s emptied himself onto your tongue.

You suckle at the tip of his sensitive cock as he pulls out from your mouth and releases your hair. A stray tear drips down your cheek and you cough, come dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin.

“Fuck, sorry,” Harry rushes, panting above you. “‘M so sorry.”

You shake your head quickly and catch the liquid leaking from your lips with your sticky fingers and sucking it from your fingers. Harry sighs weakly above you as he watches. When you look up, you find his chest red and splotchy, his cheeks high with color.

“Don’t be sorry,” you tell him, and you’re almost embarrassed at the feebleness of your voice.

Harry crouches down in front of you and brings your mouth to his. You’re a messy tangle of lips and tongues and hair, sticky fingers and liquids. He huffs a sickly sweet breath across your chin and gives you one more brief kiss before he pulls away. His eyes wander across the kitchen, from the sole light above the sink to the scattered clothes to the shining, filthy counter, to the bottle laying beside your knee. He smirks. There’s got to be less than a couple pumps of gel left.

“Think we’re gonna need to make another order, yeah?" 

[httpteddybear]

Cherry | Harry Styles

SUMMARY; After Harry gets his heart broken once again, he swears off love, until Y/n and her dog bring him a delicious gift and their friendship along with it.

WARNING(S); Cursing, disgustingly adorable fluff, a v cute cameo from my real dog Peachy!! (send her some kisses), slow burn, angst if you squint

WORD COUNT; 7.8k

AUTHORS NOTE; Hey, this is for @tiostyles Fine Line challenge, give her a follow! Also, this is my first time publishing my writing so I’m so so sorry if it’s terrible. Forgive me if it's written badly. I wrote this on Tumblr so sorry if it looks funny or anything. Also pls give all the love to my dog peachy she loves attention. (thanks to @lostincalum​ @h0tsos​ for reading a bit of this) Happy Reading!!

“I don’t know what to say to you except I’m sorry.”

Harry was everything but okay. He’d just found out that the girl he had pined over for months obviously didn’t feel the same. Now Harry was a smart man. He knew the ins and outs of his career and who he should and shouldn’t let into his life, which is why he was so baffled that he’d chosen the wrong person to let into his heart. She’d met Gemma and Anne, even a few of his cousins, and they’d all loved her. It was quite heart wrenching because even though she’d just told him the number one thing that would end a relationship, he still loved her.

“J-Just don’t call him baby, okay?”

—

It’d been almost two months since he’d seen Camille and his life wasn’t really alright. He wasn’t fully over her, she was incorporated into his daily life. His clothes, his thoughts, his eating habits, his favourite tv shows, everything. Somehow everyone found out within a matter of days what had happened, so he got an earful from Jeff. Then he got the sympathy from his family.

The only thing worse than both of those was the pity. When he went to get coffee the barista said she “hoped he was okay.” While giving him his coffee, and then Harry had seen a group of fans and the first thing that was said to him was “you poor baby.” That had set him off. Because even though it was tough, he was not a baby. He could do his own laundry and make his own food. He was not dependent on Camille for any of that, it was just nice to have someone by his side in a non-platonic way. Don’t get him wrong, he still put on a smile as they belittled him a bit. It was what he did.

So currently Harry was sitting on his couch, watching Disney movies. He felt more comfortable in his London home than the one in L.A. so he gathered his essentials and hopped on a plane. He was in a big knit sweater and some sweats. He felt content as ever. He had sort of swore off love when the Camille situation happened, so this feeling of contentment was nice. Inside his home he didn’t really have to worry about prying eyes or people judging him, so wrapped in large clothes looking very small was okay. It was okay outside of home too, but he always had a knack for looking somewhat presentable. He liked to be pretty. As did everyone but it made Harry feel like he was on top of the world. If he had the courage to wear a dress he damn sure would.

As Harry was finishing up he’d decided it was time for a cat nap. So that’s what he did. He didn’t bother to take off his clothes, just lazily pulling himself up the stairs and into his room before crashing down on his bed, pulling the duvet over his feet and up to his neck before rolling to his right side. He’d always been a side sleeper. From what his mom said, at least.

—

“Peachy! Who’s my good girl? Who’s my best girl?”

Somehow peach had found the other shoe Y/n was looking for, and that warranted some love. Y/n smiled as the Samoyed licked her happily. They were about to go on a walk to explore the new neighborhood. Y/n had judged moved into an adorable two-bedroom, one-bath, yellow house. Y/n was the epitome of someone you’d find living in that type of house. With her vanilla perfume, big fluffy Samoyed dog, and overall happy personality, the homeowner thought she was the perfect candidate to rent to.

Going on her way, Y/n decided she’d take a walk somewhere she hasn’t driven through, her best option was essentially a rich community, but she didn’t care. Her dirty shoes hit the pavement alongside Peach, watching as her dog sniffed everything in sight. Turning the corner, she found the cutest little bakery, and her excitement showed. Walking up to the brick building, she’d immediately seen the sign in bold. “NO DOGS.” Frowning, Y/n looked around. She started to walk to the pole she was going to tie peach too, but then she heard squeals.

“Mommy! Doggie!”

It didn’t bother her, so she rerouted.

“Hi miss, is it okay if my dog loves on your little munchkin? She’s very sweet and I’ve heard your child’s excitement.”

The mother smiled at how kind the girl was before nodding. Y/n brought peach over, and she was overjoyed to see the tiny child immediately clutching on.

After a few moments of her chatting with the mother, her stomach decided to make itself know. So she politely excused herself cursing at her stomach for ruining an adorable moment. Tying peach to the grey pole, she trotted inside the bakery. It was mostly empty minus the couple sharing a moment by the window and the assumed college student typing away.

“Hi, welcome to Wall Street Bakery! What can I get you?”

Y/n had to scan over the menu, they had everything from cackle to scones, so it was a difficult choice. But she’d finally agreed on a cup of whipped cream, for peach, and a half a dozen cupcakes. She didn’t know what she’d do with the extra, but she’d figure it out. Pulling nineteen pounds from her purse, she told the girl to keep the change, and she was on her way.

Peach had, as expected, ate all the whipped cream from the medium size cup. Y/n had a single cupcake before she was stuffed, in her defense, she had four slices of pizza, so this was just a tiny snack for her. She didn’t know why she ordered six, but she knew she’d find something to do with the remaining. She and peach started to walk again, taking all kinds of turns and twists, but not enough to lose their tracking. Suddenly Y/n came to a beautiful White House. It looked elegant, so she stopped to admire.

In her mind it wasn’t really creepy, she was just admiring the luxury. The more she looked the clearer everything became. Including the figure in the window of the second story. He sat idle, maybe reading or listening to music, she couldn’t quite tell. He looked dainty, fragile even. So Y/n knew where the five cupcakes would go. She swiftly pulled out a sticky note and a pen and got to work.

‘Hopefully, this sweetens up your day!’

-Y/n :)

—

Harry was listening to music. Mainly Stevie Nicks if we’re honest. He’d decided that today was going to be a relaxing day, which means that going to the studio was out of the agenda. Jeff was okay with it, stating that he had to have a meeting with someone else anyway. So Harry had a fully free relax day. So social media, television, and laziness were his full schedule. Harry had almost gotten caught up with his timeline then his stomach rumbled. He got up, going downstairs. He walked through the living room, still hearing Disney Channel from the tv. Finally getting to the kitchen, he started looking.

Now, after countless walk between the cabinets and the fridge, Harry just gave up. He decided to be a tiny bit productive by getting the mail. Harry slipped his feet in the weirdly angled slippers by the door and walked outside. Harry looked like a proper dad right now, clad in pajama sweat pants, a robe with no shirt under, and fuzzy slippers. As soon as he got outside he saw a pastel pink box with a yellow sticky note on it. Harry wasn’t crazy, but maybe this was something from Camille. Maybe a box of his favourite red velvet cupcakes that her mom made, or maybe a truce. He tried not to get his hopes up. He also wasn’t stupid. So there was no way he was opening that box inside. Just in case.

So, carefully, he grabbed the sticky note from on top of the box. His eyes scanned the letters as a small smile came to his face. Whoever this was, seemed nice and trustworthy, from what he could gather from the tiny paper. So he opened the box, just having to take the small piece of tape that was on the box. Inside we’re a mix of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, and while it wasn’t red velvet, they looked pretty promising. Again, Harry didn’t know this stranger, and he was a bit of a skeptic when it came to random gifts on his doorstep. But for an unknown reason, he felt inclined to just trust his gut. He was getting far too hangry to worry about death.

He picked up a chocolate cupcake and bit off about half in one bite. Trust and believe that he moaned at the taste. When you deprive yourself of sweets for a healthy diet, a bite into any kind of sweet felt like you were on acid in cake land. So Harry forgot all about the mail and swiftly took the box inside, kicking the door closed with his foot. Now he was almost one hundred percent sure that his whole day would be filled with the sweet-savory taste of these cupcakes.

Harry was very grateful for y/n the cupcake giver, whoever they may be.

-

Y/n felt like she was doing well in life, not astronomically good, but well. She didn’t have any major issues, she was generally acceptable by society. Well, her generation society, cause, of course, some piercing, tattoos, weight, and anything seemly not normal to grandmas around the world was a sin. She got okay grades in school and had a nice job. She had enough money for a tiny yellow house, a dog, and of course herself, so in her mind, she was doing more than good. but for some reason, not having a significant other was the biggest problem for anyone who found out. Y/n had boyfriends, girlfriends, flings, she dabbled in just about anything she felt, but for the past three years, getting her and her pet a life was the most important thing at the time. Now, y/n wasn’t opposed to having someone around. Maybe the cute girl at the coffee shop, her curly hair, dark skin contrasting against striking blue eyes, and pearly white smile was enough to give y/n butterflies as she finished her scone that day. Or the cute boy in the window, there was just something about him. Y/n liked him enough to give him five beautiful delicious cupcakes, so that should say something.

Pop culture was something that y/n was very interested in. Every now and then she’d find herself drooling over Calum Hood on her feed or staring at a paused shot of Zendaya in Euphoria for twenty-three minutes. She loved seeing people grow and she could even say that she was a fan. In fact, if you showed her the music video for Best Song Ever, she’d probably burst in your face with “Niall, do the shimmy, do the shimmy, do the shimmy, and Zayn pirouette and Louis do the splits, and Liam you stay exactly where you are because you are PERFECT,”

Y/n loved things like that, it was amazing to see people get credit when they deserve it. Sure she was heartbroken when My Chemical Romance broke up, maybe she cried for two hours when One Direction broke up, but she got over it. She could proudly listen to Welcome to the Black Parade without crying and she even kept up with Niall and Harry, not like she used to, but she tried to like a picture every now and then. Y/n was a go with the flow kind of girl, she moved on from things quickly and saw the good in things. which is why she was very confused seeing #camillerowecancelled all over her timeline. it was hard to not click on it, but y/n was having a good day and she did not need to indulge in things like that, she left that behind when she deleted Wattpad in 2014.

“Ma’am?”

Y/n nearly forgot that she was at a pet store, social media does that.

“Oh! Yes, hi. I was just looking to see if you guys had any Huskies or Pitbulls?”

Y/n was on a mission to get Peach a friend. She felt bad that the 6-month-old puppy had to be all alone while she was at work, so the only option was getting another dog to keep her company. Peach got on well with just about every dog, so it wasn’t a life-changing decision, she just had to find a dog that Peachy would get on well with. 

The worker showed her and Peach to the dog area and just left, for that she was thankful. She had always talked to Peach and she intended to ask her about the dogs she got excited about but she was sure the worker would’ve thought she was crazy. So she walked around a bit, looking at dogs and talking to Peach. Then, she nearly dropped her phone. She ran to the glass swiftly, looking at the tiny pup. It was a Husky-Chow Chow mix, and she knew she already loved her, she had no name yet either. Peach saw y/n get excited and started wagging her tail. soon enough, a puppy was on in front of her and peach couldn’t be happier to see the mini bear-like dog.

“She’s only about eight weeks old, and a lot of work, are you sure?”

Y/n couldn’t believe the audacity of the question. Of course, she wanted a tiny bear scampering around, going on adventures with her and peach. So she signed about thirty papers as quick as she could. She came to the name paper and the question hung in the air. What did she want to name the tiny bear? With Peach, she got a few days to be creative, and the samoyed was just peachy, so she named her Peach. Y/n searched her brain for names until she couldn’t think anymore. Then she squealed. She does that a lot.

Now, Y/n was on her way home, little Pipkin in her lap,  peach sat in the passenger seat as she jammed out to Lana Del Rey. Pip seemed to be having the time of her life, happy to be out of the confined cage. Y/n was, as you’d say, living her best life. She really didn’t have a care in the world. No one could really blame her. Y/n was pretty sure she just scored the cutest dog in all of London.

“Summertime and the living’s easy!”:

Y/n made it home in record time, she's pretty sure she was speeding, but Peach seemed very excited so she wanted them to be able to interact. She put Pip’s tiny leash and harness on, which was proved to be useless. Pip just kept tangling herself in Y/n’s legs and nearly got trampled by Peach. So, Pip got off scot-free just being carried. Peach was sniffing the tiny animal as soon as Y/n stepped in the door.

“Peachy, hold on I promise I’ll put her down in a sec.”

After getting settled, Y/n carefully set Pipkin on the ground, going to the couch to watch the two dogs interact. Peach sniffed Pipkin and vice versa, both faces have been in the butt of the other in addition to their own. They ran around the house for a bit, then the yard. They ate together for the first time, Peach even tried to share her food. They got on well, just like Y/n had predicted, so she decided it was time for a group walk. Y/n put a pastel hoodie over her tiny black camisole crop-top and exchanged her slides for converse, then they were out the door.

Pip seemed to walk better with Peach as Y/n helped guide. She went the same way as yesterday, finding she liked the scenic route even if it was longer. She walked passed the coffee shop, even smiling at the cute curly-haired girl. She passed the bakery this time, she wasn’t feeling sweets today. She walked quite a bit, even taking a few selfies of all three of them. Y/n was excited. She and Peach had a new companion. It might also be the rush of the fact that she's pretty sure the cute window boy is out in his lawn. She tried to keep cool, even almost went to the other side of the street but peach wasn’t gonna let that happen. It seems already Pip has become a rebel because she stayed with Peach. Y/n trained them, but they weren’t like Army dogs, so she let them practically pull her until two houses before his. She fixed herself up a bit, checking that her posture didn’t resemble the hunchback of Notre Dame. 

She got closer and she could already feel the butterflies swirling in her tummy. Peach and Pip must’ve felt it too, because closer they got, the closer to Y/n the dogs got. Especially Pip, but I’m sure its just cause she’s very tiny compared to the man, his hand could probably fit Pip in its palm. Y/n contemplated talking to him, which she did until she was nearly up in his face. When she saw him clearly, oh boy. Butterflies were an understatement. it was like a swarm of fuzzy bumblebees was tickling every part of her tummy. Y/n can definitely confirm that curly hair and bright eyes were essentially her type as of now.

“The boy from the window!”

If Y/n wanted to die before it was nothing compared to now. she literally wanted London to swallow her and her dogs until they were in the middle of nowhere with no proof of their existence. Pip and Peach weren’t bothered, sitting idle in the sun. The gate blocked out a bit of Y/n’s beet-red face, not as much as she would have wished.

-

Harry had decided to go outside. It was a pretty nice day for London, the sun was even out. So after copious amounts of sunscreen, some more presentable clothing, just in case of a fan, and some slides, he was on his way to his larger than the normal front yard. He planned on being out for a bit, so he brought snacks and drinks too. His mother taught him the habit. She always had some sort of snack in her purse and she almost always had those mini water bottles.

He lived in a pretty secluded part of London, but he still wanted to be prepared if a fan came up to him. Harry didn’t want to sound like an ass but more often than not, he didn’t want to take pictures. He was all for living in the moment. After always having a camera on you for about six years, you’d get sick of it too. It's not that he didn’t like meeting fans, he loved it. They made him who he was, but almost every one of them wanted a picture to document that they met him. It's albeit sad, the fact that if you just said that you met him, everyone would ask for proof. Trust does get a bit tainted from fame. 

Harry was almost ready to go inside, he was near sunburnt, and if he didn't get inside his mom would scold him. Now some people might think that he's an adult and that he doesn't need to listen to her. Harry thinks different. His mom is such a kind soul but if you make her mad enough to scold you, oh she’ll scold you. Harry didn't like the feel of the cold aloe vera either. He’d kept it in the fridge, it was mean to cool you down and soothe you, but that's maybe a five minute cool. His had been in the fridge for about two months. Then, he saw a fluffy cloud walking alongside a very tiny bear, so he stayed. Even to just get a closer glance at the dogs.

Now imagine this, you’re on your lawn, waiting for two dogs to pass by, but they stop at your gate. You’re curious and, in this case, you think it might be a fan. what would be the face you made if the first thing that person said was,

“The boy from the window!”

It took him a minute to even process the words the girl just spoke, he was on autopilot walking to his gate and unlocking it. He went up to the girl, she looked sweet, she was very pretty and looked like she could model but also like she had just run three miles, her face was very red. Harry didn’t mention it. Instead, he said,

“Pardon?”

He couldn’t tell who was redder. that was an idiot thing to say, he could see it now if this angel really was famous, the headlines would probably be at his neck, making jokes about how he had shit pickup lines, but he did. That probably warranted cheating in his mind.

-

Y/n couldn’t believe she was about to explain that she was being a creep but she didn’t know what else to say, she couldn’t just let the silence sit but holy shit, she was talking to Harry Styles. Her stomach said barf on his feet but her mind said to play it cool, she chooses the latter.

“I, uh, yesterday, I saw you sat in the window, and you looked a bit sad, at least from where I was standing, so I left five cupcakes at your doorstep. I’m Y/n.”

Y/n saw his face shift, but his eyes showed immediate confusion. 

“How’d you get through the gate?”

Way to go y/n, you trespassed. You finally meet a boy, well, see a boy, and you fuck it up by trespassing? yay.

“I- It was actually open a bit and you looked sad. Listen, I'm sorry but please don't send me to jail. Pip and Peachy need me to feed them and I need my tiny house I beg you just like punch me instead I sw-”

Y/n couldn’t help herself. From her perspective she made a damn good case, cause no one could take the person who has two dogs to jail, Well, they could, but morally? yeah right bitch.

“Hey, don’t worry, yeah? just let me pet your dogs and we’ll call a truce.”

Y/n didn’t think this could get any better. She met Harry Styles, and he likes her dogs. Not gonna lie, Y/n thought he was a cat person, sure he could be a ray of sunshine, but he had major resting ‘step a centimeter too close to me and I’ll kill you’ face. Her need to scream right now was a ten on a scale of one to nine. Sure she kept her composure and would until she got comfortable, but if she was alone, she’d break a glass. One Direction among, various other artists, shaped her taste in music all through high school. She listened to No Control pretty much every day of freshman year, it was on her morning playlist.

Y/n zoned out, caught up in her thoughts, but when she did come back from the wave of nostalgia, she saw possibly a once in a lifetime moment. Her dogs, snuggled up into harry, as he sat there in all his handsome glory.

“I completely forgot to introduce m’self. I’m Harry.”

he held a kind smile, it didn’t fully reach his eyes, but it was genuine.

“I know who you are, congratulations on the new song, by the way.”

He didn’t miss a beat before asking,

“Would you like a picture?”

Y/n honestly didn’t know what to do. Would saying no be too rude? ‘Cause she did not have the energy to pull out her phone. 

“Oh, no thanks, actually.”

He seemed, almost relived? It was confusing. Y/n didn’t meet celebrities on the regular, but she was almost one hundred percent sure that he would have thought she was rude. 

After talking and letting Harry pet her dogs a bit more, she, unfortunately, had to go. She let him know, they exchanged hugs, and she said a sorrowful goodbye to Harry. It was weird, sometimes she forgot that people she looked up too were just like her at some point. maybe playing with a Tamagotchi or beating one of their friends at BopIt. It truly was a ‘rags to riches’ story for so many famous people.

Y/n finally got home, after taking a few pit stops, letting Peach and Pip do what they needed to do. She was relieved to see her tiny yellow house, it held a lot of character for one, Y/n even went as far as naming it Lanana. It was a dumb combination of lemon and banana, re; her house colour. Second, her feet were pretty much throbbing. Pip was acting like she was dying from walking and Peach immediately lied on the floor. Y/n also found the rug to be pretty comfortable as she lied on it, staring at her surroundings.

Her cacti seemed to be doing well, probably cause it was fake. It seemed fairly clean, so she didn’t have to worry about that tomorrow. her tapestry of corgis seemed to have come down on one side, but other than that her walls looked genuinely okay, she has yet to put a hole in them. and her books on the coffee table were still unmoved. Y/n didn’t really read them, but who has books on their coffee table that they actually read? The ceiling was pretty bland though, maybe she’d buy something to put on it. 

Y/n rolled over and pulled out her phone. her eyes were probably going to hurt later. Whenever she started scrolling, it didn’t matter which app, she had trouble stopping. But she’d get up eventually, if not, Peach would probably maul her if she didn’t get her peanut butter covered meds. Y/n debated going on twitter, but she didn't really want to see anything on there, opting for Instagram, she got into a comfortable position and started scrolling.

-

Harry was very, very frustrated. He had gotten a sunburn and that scold from his mom. Anne went on for about fifteen minutes about how he’d get skin cancer and how he’ll feel like leather by the time he’s fifty. She had good intentions, but Harry had thin patients. He did keep it under wraps, he had too. It’d be a whole other scolding if he got snappy with his mum. He actually talked to her for ten minutes, more or less, about what was going on in his life and etcetera before his mum called it a night.

He kept thinking about you, well you and your dogs. Sure human interaction was appealing, puppy interaction was essential. Had you been anyone else, excluding his mum and a few friends, Harry would have called security. He just chose to trust his gut and the dogs that you were with.

It was a rare feeling that harry got around dogs. Not like the love you give your significant other, it was less intimate. More like the love you give a child or someone you love very much. Harry almost considered getting a dog. Big or small the creatures were loyal, always waiting for you to get home and following you through the house. They were very reliable and dependant on their owners. Harry thought that was something he needed. Someone to depend on him, keep him grounded and let him know he was wanted. He had wanted a dog up until he realized that he was too busy. He was always busy now. Getting ready to release a new album, having to give his all for it to be what he imagined. He barely had time to himself, a pet would be too much to handle.

Had Harry realized a singing career would jeopardize his opportunity to get a dog, he would have never auditioned in the first place. Harry always had a love for animals. Now, when you hear that you take into account people's fears, with Harry, you didn’t have to. By the age of three, he was trotting up to garden snakes, helping to untangle them from whatever twig they were stuck in. He helped spiders outside and whatever you can think of that someone would fear, he’d do it. Not because he was brave, because if you told him to try and run over a tiny stream in-between the grass, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you no and throw a fit. Harry was just gentle, in a lot of aspects. 

He was gentle when he broke up with people, he was gentle when his bunny was getting ready to pass away, he was gentle when his sister was stressed looking for colleges, he was just gentle. which came with a lot of selflessness. Everything was Harry’s fault, in the sense that he blamed himself for a lot of things. He still blamed himself for Camille. Her falling out of love wasn’t his fault, she made that clear, but he couldn’t help but nitpick his flaws. The was he sometimes zoned out while she talked, or when he had a meeting but she had an off day, he felt terrible leaving Camille alone.  Harry was off.

He wasn’t broken, he felt okay, there was no metaphorical hole in his heart. Harry was fine. Except for when he wasn’t. The nights of alcohol and screaming led to nothingness. No more screaming, no more soft cuddles in the early hours. Harry was indifferent about it.  On the one hand, he was glad. He had calm peaceful nights and his liquor cabinet was almost always full again. On the other hand, his bed felt awfully empty. He still slept on his side, it felt like she was still lingering. Even with the million times, he washed the sheets, she still felt like she was right there.

Harry hoped he’d get over her.

-

Y/n was running detrimentally late. She’d gotten the best job interview and guess what? She got up an hour too late. By the eighth time she snoozed, she realized she had to be up. So she did some shitty ‘natural’ makeup, threw on a blazer, a cami under it, and the matching pants. She still looked bomb, Y/n would never doubt that. Especially when her confidence needed to be high. So now that Y/n was pulling up to get coffee, she’d regretted getting up so late.

The drive-thru was packed, everyone getting their own coffee. Y/n opted to go inside, coffee was like her push to get through the day and a Trenta should be enough to keep her somewhat lively. She still had to wait in a line inside, but this one was shorter. She tapped her thigh and scrolled through Instagram until she was at the counter. The barista was cute, having cool dyed hair was something Y/n gravitated towards, she could never get her hair a crazy colour, having to work serious jobs all the time. She always had to stick to somewhat natural. She’d rebelled at some point in middle school with bright, neon red hair. Then she’d stuck to natural colours, neon didn't look that good on her.

–

She picked up her coffee, taking a sip before starting her journey to her car. Well, she was, then the universe decided she needed a cute cliche.

“Oh! shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even looking an-”

–

“and I just bumped into you, I’m sorry oh god.”

Harry recognized Y/n, and he wanted to say hi. Apparently, his version of hi was coffee spilled all over her shirt. He didn’t mean to, but the profuse apologizing was kind of cute.

“It’s fine love, saw you ‘nd thought I’d say hello.”

Harry caught Y/n blush at that. Albeit she got flustered over the tiniest things. She was quite cute now that Harry wasn’t distracted by dogs. She had a very nice style, besides the fact that there was now a stain on her camisole. She nearly matched the cafe chairs with her pants and blazer. It was cute.

She was cute.

–

To say Y/n was shocked was an understatement. For once a cute guy wanted to talk to her and she didn’t have to pine over him for months first. It was nearly a miracle. Y/n was a nice girl but confidence wasn’t always her strong suit. She couldn’t just talk to people, no no, she usually had to make an idiot of herself first. With the looming failure over her head and her heart racing, it made it very hard for Y/n to make new friends.

“Oh, for sure, uh I’m in a bit of a sticky situation.”

He held a finger up, signaling her to wait. He was discouraged she’d think he was weird and leave. But after coming back outside, a hand full of towelettes, he saw she was still there. Y/n took the damp fabric, wiping her blazer a bit, the only place the stain was visible was her blazer. Thank god for her camisole being black otherwise Harry would be able to tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Sure she likes attention but not wearing a bra was solely hatred. Primarily Y/n had underwire bras, they were like hell around your boobs. So she opted out, it wasn’t like she expected to see Harry. He’d probably already noticed, it’d gotten considerably cold. He hadn’t said anything though, so there wasn’t much to dwell on.

Y/n patted herself down, thankfully getting most of the coffee stench out of her clothing. She’d forgotten all about why she was wearing a blazer or her interview. Y/n had her priorities all off, of course, Harry was more important than her interview, logically no, but Y/n wasn’t thinking with her head. Who would?

Harry was trying to decide whether or not he should ask for her number, was it too soon? What if he looked too desperate? The press would eat that up, he could already hear a tacky headline being typed. Y/n didn’t look like the type of girl that would care about that type of stuff. Desperate was surely socially constructed. Harry was obviously in too deep, who cared about any of that? he was gonna go for it.

Y/n was starting to see a difference in her blazer as the stain dried. Harry seemed spaced out, literally. He looked like he was on Mars. Harry looked like he was gonna say something, as he looked Y/n in the eyes for the first time.

She was gorgeous. Sure he’d dated models and beautiful women, but this was like home-brewed, authentic beauty. Her hair looked so soft, it was the type of hair that matched a lions mane, one he could imagine all over the pillow next to him. He liked Y/n, she was cute. After seeing her a few times Harry was almost drawn to her. She had an expensive personality. Not the kind of snobby, rich expensive, but rich with delicacies. She was kind to strangers she spoke to, and her dogs fit right with her, almost giving her a throne of cute, fluffy, kindness. The music in the coffee shop was heard outside, Harry swayed his body a bit to the beat.

“So, since we’ve run into each other a few times, I guess the universe thinks we’re soulmates.”

Harry didn’t need to rip off the bandaid, Y/n had just done it for him. Her smooth words flowed to him like silk, sure maybe Harry was getting a bit stalkerish, but it was all with good intention. If Y/n could be confident enough to say that and smile on, surely getting her number shouldn’t be that hard.

“So, ehm, I was wondering if I could ‘ve your number?”

Y/n was properly freaking out. Who wouldn’t? Harry looked at her with the most adorable gleaming eyes and just how could Y/n ever say no to that? He was her type but elevated. He had the bad boy vibe, but a heart of gold. Y/n liked to think of him as a milk dud oddly. But he and the mild dud alike had a hard, chocolate exterior, but sweet, chewy, caramel insides. He was ethereal. 

“Yes, yeah absolutely.”

-

It was now about a month after that. Harry and Y/n were going strong in the friend zone. Every time Harry asked Y/n out she was busy and vice-versa. Somehow the universe had gotten them together, but now it was like it vanished. All the work was now in their hands. It wasn’t as if having a date with one another was work, it wasn’t. Frankly, they really did enjoy each other's company, even through texts. But it was their literal work. 

Y/n couldn’t get a day off to save her life. Her boss was a bit of a dick. On top of it, most days off were spent graciously on the couch, feet propped up, and two dogs cuddling into her, all three intrigued by SpongeBob and Squidward arguing. Harry was in the middle of finishing up his album, so most of his time was spent at the studio. His days off were spent in L.A. It was rare that he was in London, sometimes he had to beg for a break. Thankfully he had jeff who sort of understood. So sure breaks were rare, but Harry spent so much time trying to work his hardest that he was keeping himself from it at this point. 

Harry had done enough waiting. Y/n seemed right up his alley. Her personality wasn’t too overbearing or too happy, she was a perfect state of nirvana. A calming aura came where ever she went and Harry could almost feel it through his screen. He and Y/n texted about anything. It could be a meme she sent him at three am, in turn, he’d laugh but tell her to get to bed. Or he’d send her minuscule things, like the stuff he sees in his everyday life that reminds him of her. Was Harry fully over his ex? No, but he’d get there. For you, Harry would at least try. Everyone had understood he was hurt but Anne pushed him to be happy for him, so that's what he was doing.

He’d texted Y/n about setting up a little get together, he didn’t want to call it a date, thinking maybe he’d scare her off. Y/n was persistent though, responding with ‘So it’s a date.’ It wasn't even a question, she’d just said it out in the open in hopes that Harry would be okay with it. He was. If Y/n could’ve seen his face when he read it she’d probably get a good laugh because as soon as he processed the text his lips curled up, bringing his mouth into a toothy smile. It felt nice to have someone paying attention to him again. He’d seen a few fans on his drive, waving as one cried, she immediately apologizing for being an ugly crier. There was something about finally getting a date and talking to the fans that put him in a fantastic mood. 

He was currently sitting in traffic, just coming back from seeing his mum. The surroundings were a bit bleak, all the houses were either White, Gray, or Black. Harry loved colour. He loved being able to express himself with pleasing ones that coordinate. Sure when he was little he’d throw on a raincoat but put shorts on, but having a stylist most of his life helped. His style was like a grandpa in a twenty-year-old’s body. Not that he cared, but it was a bit of an improvement from young British bloke who thinks he’s cool. Traffic started moving and Harry took his foot off the break, shifting gears to get moving. What was he doing? Well he, was on his way to get a particular bubbly nirvana girl. He and Y/n had planned the date about a week ago and agreed that they’d do something as soon as he got home. She insisted that he went home and relaxed, but Harry was stubborn, assuring her that he’d be fine. 

They had yet to plan where they were going, Y/n had talked about just going out and figuring it out when they ‘cross that lightbulb’ and he agreed. He neared the street that Y/n had given him and his mind was getting the best of him. Not every girl was the same but what if? There was always a possibility that it could happen again. Was his heart ready to risk it? Not fully, but one date couldn’t damage him that much. Harry always had a strong heart. When someone pushed him off the slide in primary school he’d said he fell. In Secondary school when his crush Rachel traded him for someone older, he’d let it go. He was strong and he could handle this. Y/n didn’t seem like she was like that.

He pulled up outside of her house, smiling at the bright colour. It was very her. Her windows were bright and open, he could see a small succulent on the ledge inside. She had a well-kept yard and the grass was as vibrant as ever. Considering it was London it could be hard to maintain a yard or even a garden, the weather was always temperamental. He heard the door open, watching as she stepped out from behind the white door. She looked beautiful, clad in some spandex shorts that fit her bottom nicely and a big sweater. It looked like a merch sweater of some sort. 

Y/n had a cute little bounce in her step, her hair bouncing a bit too. She and Harry had been on the best terms. They texted almost every day following him getting her number. She got to know him a bit better. She paid attention to a lot, she was an observer. The way he typed and formed sentences was very pleasing to the eye, at least he didn’t have terrible grammar. She reached the car, giving him a smile as she got in the car.

“How are y’love? Hair looks nice.”

Y/n smiled, attention to detail was always nice. They had also joked multiple times about her secretly being a lion cause she’d sent him a selfie after a particularly long day at work the day before. You could see the tangles and how frizzed it was. Harry thought it was adorable.

“Thanks, I’m good, at least it's brushed this time, right?”

He laughed. It was a nice sound.

“Any thought to where you’d like to go?”

Y/n hummed, thinking a bit.

“I was thinking ice cream, it’s rare that London has had this many sunny days, I’m wondering if we should be scared.”

They both laughed, agreeing on ice cream.

“Y’want the aux?” Harry offered.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Y/n hooked up her phone, going to Spotify and smiling as Hey Jude played through the speakers. She and Harry sang along ridiculously off-key and talked the entire drive to the tiny ice cream shop. Harry stopped the car and got out. So far, Y/n wasn’t bad. In fact, she was great. Her happiness radiated through the car, he bets it's hard to be in a bad mood around her. She’d opted for no makeup and Harry liked that. He loved girls with and without makeup but it was a gesture he appreciated, even if it wasn’t for him. 

Y/n looked up at the options, she didn’t particularly care for a lot of it, she didn’t want to eat something that had too much sweetness, she’d get a tummy ache. Harry had ordered Moose Track ice cream while Y/n ordered Ben and Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake. This was typically her go to unless she was sad, then she buried her sorrows in Cherry Garcia.

They didn't even sit down before they were chatting. Conversation flowed easily between them. They could go from talking about their day to talking about childhood. It was nice, there was no pressure to come up with a topic. If there was silence as they at it was comfortable, the ice cream shop wasn’t very full, it is on the outskirts of London, so they didn't have to worry about paparazzi. They talked about their favourite bands, people they looked up to, fashion choices, just about everything that came to mind. It was nice, Harry and Y/n singing to their heart's content to the Queen flowing through the shop, Y/n even getting up and using her spoon as a mic. Harry hadn’t felt this nice in a while.

“Then he turned and there was a garden snake and I’ve never heard a fifty-year-old man scream at a higher pitch than him.”

Y/n finished off her story, she and Harry had been laughing their asses off for about an hour, they’d been there for about two. 

“This is nice, love hanging out with you.”

Harry’s words held sentiment that made Y/n’s heart burst. 

“Same.”

Y/n replied, laughing as he made faces at her. This was easy. No pressure, nothing was forced, it was genuine first date bliss.

“Oops.”

Harry smirked as he took his spoon, putting a bit of chocolate on her nose,

“Harry.”

Y/n whined dragging out his name. He laughed, leaning forward. He kissed the ice cream off her nose watching as her cheeks tinted pink, it was adorable.

“You asked for it.”

next thing Harry knew there was ice cream on his nose now too, except she didn’t kiss it away, opting to take her finger and wipe it. bringing the finger to her mouth she laughed, making a face resembling the grinch as she licked her thumb. They didn’t want to leave, Harry would pay to have time freeze and keep this moment present forever. Sadly he couldn’t. They got up, going to the register.

“I’m paying.”

Y/n stated, dismissing Harry’s protests. 

Harry had dropped Y/n off, and there was no doubt he wanted to keep her around. He had his doubts but the small time that they had in the ice cream shop was phenomenal. Was Harry fully over his ex? No. But that was okay. He didn’t have to rush, he’d be just fine getting over her with Y/n’s help. He didn’t need a therapist or a new girlfriend, he needed someone to show him that he could have better. Y/n was better. As long as you two kept talking Harry was sure he’d be over it in no time.

y/n; so plans for our next date? ;)

[perksofbeingaharrie]

Watermelon Sugar (H.S)

@hsogolden here I submit my entry! 

Thank you for bringing up this writing challenge, it’s gotten me back to writing and it’s all because of you! writing for the #FineLineFicChallenge Hope you enjoy my piece of work and come around for some more!

SUMMARY

Harry has resorted to new methods of album writing and Y/N finds out about it just recently. Her reaction and his reaction are nothing either of them expect. 

Warnings: Mature content ahead. Mentions of sex and magic mushrooms ahead. 

Type: Angst + Smut (bc hell yeah baby) 

Word count: > 3k

Also: with this writing I do not wish to promote the usage of mushrooms or any other drug for that cause. This is meant for entertainment and reading pleasure only. Don’t do drugs kids. 

----------

A strange smell emits from the door every now and then that it is opened. She stands outside, a box of sweet snacks clutched in her hands tight as she contemplates her next move. Jeff stands before her, smiling but something about his smile tells her it isn’t very sincere.

“Harry’s just so into it lately.” He utters, stuffing his hands in his pockets while releasing an awkward chuckle.

She smiles, not quite convinced either. “Of course.”

A beat of silences dispenses any conversation.

“It’s just so loud in there you can hardly talk.” He says again, this time out of the blue, looking down at his shoes.

She eyes him up and down strictly, biting her lip to stop herself from replying while nodding nervously.

He chuckles his awkward chuckle into the conversation again. “He’s hardly even visible to one’s eyes – just locked himself up in that little recording cubicle.”

She nods at him again but then decided to put down her stand too. “I – uh, think I’ll just go in, Jeff.”

“You – you want to?” He fumbles, scratching the back of his neck. The sound of him gulping a little too loud puts away all her apprehension to start a riot.

“Yes, Jefferey. Now let me in.”

Jeff has known that when she begins to call people by their full names, it’s better to let her have her away. He has known and realized this at not one but many instances in the time that he has known her for.

She gestures with her eyes for him to move aside and he does, quietly, obediently and only pinches his eyes close tight when her back faces him.

“Oh, and,” She startles him again. “I got some macaroons. Come on in if you want some.”

“Oh yeah, in a bit.” He gives his silly grin again. She sighs, deliberately towards him and turns to walk into the studio.  Jeff pulls his hands out of his pocket and drops his head in them.

The recording studio is warmer than other times. The lights are dim and mellow as she walks in, and what appears to be a layer of smoke encircles the long corridor towards the door of the music room. She scrunches her nose at the smell from before, breathing loudly from her mouth as if suddenly lacking air to breathe.

She takes the trip down the long corridor, her heart taking a beat faster with every step. The uncanny silence does not help either. Her hands are sweating by the time she is standing before the door and she has to wipe them on her jeans. The smell from before has drawn to quite a prevalent waft around her, and the fact that the room is so sound proof adds up to her anxiety.

She braces herself before she pulls the handle down and opens the door.

A big smoke cloud welcomes her after which follows a loud, high pitched voice of her boyfriend.

“Jefferey!” He exclaims.

She stands at the frame of the door with the door wide open and once the dust settles down, her eyes scan the room.

First and foremost, nobody seems to be at work. The bunch of men, Harry’s precious team – Mitch, Kid, Jeff and some new faces are all gathered on the sofa and the floor, lounging lazily in their places. Secondly, if not at work, the men still seem hard at work – one of them holding up a lighter to another’s face, another one rolling what appears to be the cause of all this smell and almost all of them smoking the finely pressed and prepped joint in between their fingers.

“Baby?”

Her eyes blink once or twice before she regains consciousness from having taken in so much in so little time. Harry’s voice appears distant and she takes a while to locate him in the crowd. He is sprawled on the couch, the joint, now almost extinguished, resting between his thumb and index finger.

“What are you doing here?” He speaks again, this time clearer as he sits up straighten and everyone else follows suit.

She realizes too late how livid she must be looking. Her eyes feel dilated and wide while her lower lips hung low in shock. She feels her breathing tighten and her skin warm and all these reactions at once confuse her as to how she should react.

“I-uh, I thought you were working?” Is what she summons to speak.

“Well, this is work, my darling!” Kid Harpoon jumps to his feet and stands in front of her in an excited gleam, covering Harry from her.

Nevertheless, she sees Harry let out an angsty sigh from his mouth and pinch his joint on the ash tray a little too forcefully.

“This is just some mushrooms – magic mushrooms.” Kid holds up his joint in front of her, and its pungent smell makes her cringe and retract from him. “Works wonders to relax you and open up the creativity wind.” He is too happy as he explains her.

“Hey, Y/N.” Mitch calls out to her from his place on the floor. “It’s nothing too serious – we’re just having fun. It’s alright.” He looks over at Harry, before again at her. “You can join us if you want…?”

“Uh, no!” She says it too fast and too loudly. She clears her throat. “I mean, no, no, I just - I just came by to drop some macaroons.” She lifts the box to Kid’s chest.

“Thanks; mind putting them over there?” Harry crass voice comes from behind Kid’s build.

She feels her chest tighten at the tone of his voice. He appears to be absolutely out, sounding extremely slow and tired – almost as if tired of her. She clearly is not desired here.

Gulping, she takes a few steps back towards the table by the door. “Alright. Guess I’ll leave too. Have…fun.”

She places the box by the table and opening the door, she exits the room with a heavy heart.

“Harry, my brother, you’re in deep, deep – “She hears the voice of one of his friends from the inside but she quickly closes the door on it, rushing to leave the place.

***

It’s been an hour since Harry’s home and locked himself in his studio in the basement. She has been pacing in and out of the kitchen, checking to see her pasta cooking well while at the same time looking over to the clock to see if it is getting too late.

Finally, after relentlessly fighting with him and herself, she decides to scoop some pasta for him in a bowl and carry it down to the basement for him.

The studio down below is dimly lit with yellow lights all over, giving a very warm and artsy feel to it. She walks down the steps and pushes open the half-cracked door to watch her boyfriend standing by his laptop, back facing her, testing through the right tune to fit into the melody.

She lifts her hand towards the door and clicks her knuckles against it. She knows he has heard her but he appears no way near to putting away his instrument or turning around to face her. Irritated, she thumps the plate of pasta on the nearest table to her and walks a few steps into the room and towards him.

“What is wrong with you?” She asks in a small voice, tired, arms crossing over her chest and eyes lulling in pain.

He pays no heed.

“Harry!” She takes another step towards him. “Baby-“

“What is wrong with you?”

Suddenly all music is shut off and only his voice and words echo in the room. His turns around to face her so suddenly, and the bitter look on his face makes her flinch and lean away from him. Harry’s eyebrows are pinched together and his mouth turned down in a frown. She loses her sense for a moment and drops the stern hands that were crossed at her chest before.

He breathes through his nose audibly.

“Why are you meddling in my business?”

She is taken aback. “Harry…”

Watching him this seething and offended has her toes tingling with unease. He has been angry a lot of times in the past too – at himself, at her, at the world, but this tone and demeanor just hits different.

“Why?” His voice softens but it fails to soothe her nonetheless.

She tries to revive her voice again. “I-I just came to see you-“

“Fuck, you didn’t have to!” He raises his voice just then, enough to make her lose her cool too.

She lets out a chuckle in disbelief. “Wha- Bu- but I didn’t even say anything!”

“Well,” He begins. “You didn’t fucking have to-“

“Stop cursing-“

“-because your fucking face said it all.” He completes, surrendering breathless.

She has walked a few steps towards him and stands closer to his face, eyes boring into his blazing ones. She feels her anger pulsate throughout her body.

Watching her put up this fiercely against his harshness has his expressions soften up and as he realizes their proximity, he says in a smaller voice –

“You looked disgusted, you did.” He gulps.

She shakes her head, breaking out of her iron face act. Lifting her hands slowly from her sides, she pulls at his wrist.

Somewhere in the moment, she feels his distress. He must be embarrassed, he must feel ashamed and she sympathizes with him.

“No…” she whispers to him, moving closer. “I just didn’t know you were into stuff like this and –“

He breathes heavily through his mouth, turning his face away from her. She regrets suddenly what she said, but the regret comes with another confusion as to why would something like this offend him enough to react this way.

“- and I was just concerned, baby, please look at me.”

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head and looks back at her.

“No, no, no,” He clutches her arms tightly. “Can’t you see I am fine! Why are you worried about me, why are you concerned?”

“Because I love you and I care for your well-being and I wouldn’t want you to get into something that’s not good -“

“Christ!” He drops his hands to his sides with a loud sound. “This is fine what I am doing, alright? It’s not something illegal or wrong, just please, stop.”

She sighs, nostrils flaring. “Then why were you hiding it if it wasn’t something wrong!”

“Hiding? No, I wasn’t!”

“Then why was Jeffery posted outside the studio like a watch dog and not letting me in!”

His face twists in a look of absolute astonishment. “Wha- what? No...” He slaps his hands on his face. “Christ! Because Jeffery is a fucking idiot!”

She moves back from him, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Harry, I seriously don’t know anymore.”

“Fine!” He grabs his jacket from the console and moves towards her. “End of this topic. I have nothing to say to you and we’ll never speak of this again, that’s it.”

Storming out of the room, he leaves her alone muddled with her own genuine thoughts and his stubborn words.

***

She ushers over to their bedroom later that night. They haven’t spoken since the heated argument in the basement – moreover, he hasn’t bothered to leave the bedroom since then and she hasn’t summoned up to go over there.

But her father has always told her to never go to bed angry with someone, and so she can’t think about a blink of a sleep tonight.

She slips through the door to find him sleeping on the bed with his back to her side. Quietly sliding under the covers, she moves closer to his body, his back from one shoulder to another before her standing mighty like a mountain. She hesitates at first but then slowly places her chin on his shoulder, waiting for him to budge or even budge her away.

His body tenses at her single contact, but soon eases again. However, he abstains from showing any reaction in any way. This prompts her and she slides closer to his body even more now, wrapping her one arm around his torso and letting her front touch entirely against his back and hip, clinging onto him like a snail.

“Mmhmm.” She mumbles against his skin, touching her lips to his shoulder and neck in tender kisses. “Harry.”

He deems no reply.

“I think you’re stretching it a bit too much, don’t you think.” She says, lifting her head over his shoulder to look at his face.

“I am not, you are.” He says with his eyes closed and expressions flat.

She snorts, pushing her head against his back.

“I don’t get what is so great about these magic mushrooms thingy that you’re defending it like it’s your child and ignoring me, enough to make me want to cry.”

“Aah ha.” He tuts. “There. There. There comes your judgmental tone again that I do not like.”

She sighs, giving up, tired and defeated. Silence descends for a moment between them. Neither does she make a move nor does he try and look out for her. She remains static as she is, head dropped in anguish.

Harry on the other hand grows wary of the situation. He knows he is hurting her and he himself feels he has had enough of this but his own conflicts and an ego as big as the mountains demands him not to surrender. He himself admits that he can be an arrogant son of a bitch at times.

Suddenly, he feels her stir again. He gulps and anticipates what she intends to do. She runs the tip of her nose against the back of his neck in a pattern, stopping to place a kiss right at the spot where she knows he has him hard. His breathing alters in a minute as she begins tracing patterns with her lips on his shoulder, his body hardening, all ready to give in.

“Sleep with me.” She rubs his fingers along his sides, scratching his skin and threatening to go down below.

He summons his voice. “I am sleeping with you.”

His voice, so devoid of emotions, breaks her strength. He is acting, but she can hardly tell.

“No.” She mewls, snuggling her face to the back of his ear. “I want you to hold me.”

He gulps. “I don’t feel like it.”

Her mouth drops in an exasperated sigh. “That was very rude of you.”

“Well, you were rude too.”

At this point, she knows he has taking full advantage of her vulnerability. She can tell by his voice now that he is having a good laugh too.

“Harry!” She shoves at him, whining. When he doesn’t bother to turn to her and only lets out a sneaky chuckle, she breaks down.

“Okay, fine!” She says loudly. “I am sorry. Do whatever you want to do. I won’t say a word anymore. You were right. You know what’s best for you and when I am trying to have a say in anything, I am intervening, which I should not. So, I will keep shut from now. Alright?”

“Ah ha ha.” He mocks, finally sitting up and turning to her. She looks nowhere near pleased or convinced, but her pouting face has him melting.

He grabs her cheeks and pulls her to him, kissing her lips. In desperation, she moves closer, straddling him and pulls him in a for a full makeout sesh. As his hands travel down to her behind, grabbing her with his full hands and pulling her closer to him, her hands travel to the back of his neck to anchor his jaw as she works her lips on him.

He groans as she slips her tongue into his mouth, the front of his pants tightening to see her so delirious and needy for him. He relays back as she works up on his neck and jaw, her teeth grazing against his skin and making him grab onto her tighter to resist tearing apart her nightie and taking her right then and there.

Finally, with a resolve, he pulls her face to look at her again and they break into a small grin, breathless.

“You dog.” She curses, pulling him to her to stick their foreheads together as they catch their breaths.

“You’ve got to trust me, okay? I know what I am doing and I promise it won’t be anything that harms me, hm?” He tells her, rubbing his hands up and down her sides in a soothing gesture.

“Mmhmm.” She nods, distancing their faces to look him in the eyes. They smile again at each other and her fingers travel up to his face to trace along his features in patterns that he enjoys.

He chuckles, ducking to kiss between her breasts, and for his lips to carry on up till her neck to her face again.

“Do you ever want to try those mushrooms with me?” He asks in a raspy voice, peppering her jaw with his kisses.

She snorts, making a face. “No, thank you.”

Suddenly he pulls her hands away from him and hold them behind her, distancing himself to give her a grave look. She cringes, looking at him with confused shot eyebrows.

“Look at you.” He says, eyes bawling as they scan her face. “You are being rude again!”

He lets her go, falling flat behind on the bed on his back and lifting his arms to cover over his eyes.

She takes a moment to process everything and when she does, her head falls back in a loud groan.

“God, Harry…aah!” Her groans end in squeals when he pulls her back on top of him again, laughing at her reaction.

***

It’s ‘bring in your partners to work’ day today at the studio so the tiny space is filled with more people, talking loudly and drinking from cups as they listen and watch the musicians get to work.

The working men are gathered at one corner, and the other corner all their better halves chat about and watch them at work. Y/N is squeezed between Glenne and Meredith, the happy girl group giggling at their silly talks and pulling pranks at their beaus.

As she finishes her second cup for the evening and makes her way to pour some more, Y/N is crossed by someone carrying a box of wrapped joints in them. She suddenly chokes up on her breath and quickly gives him the way to walk through. With a lighter pace, she reaches the drinks table and turns around to see the culprit – Kid Harpoon, distributing the joints amongst everyone.

All of them throw their heads back and laugh as they accept the joints, lighting it easily with their own lighters in hand. She doesn’t remember pouring herself what drink, but as she slowly gulps it while watching the scene before her, she suddenly chokes up from the bitterness and coughs, drawing attention to herself.

All eyes turn up to her. She smiles timidly, catching Harry’s apprehensive lip bite in her direction, and slowly walks over to where she was standing before. But it is an even bigger disaster up there.

Glenne brings up her part of the joint and takes a long drag, releasing and bursting into a chuckle along with which she pulls Jeffery to her and kisses him. When they are through with their moment, she cheekily turns towards Y/N and pushes the joint towards her.

“You wanna try? It’s relaxing.”

Y/N eyes look up and down from her friend to the joint offered to her. She only begins to stutter a reply when another encouragement comes from somebody else. And then another and another and she is left a mess between all the coaxing.

“Don’t.” Harry’s voice sounds louder amongst all of this chatter. “Don’t force her if she doesn’t want to.”

She looks up to him in anticipation of a consoling look, but he barely turns his eyes up at her, and with a resigning sigh, he returns to the control panel he was firmly stuck to since the beginning.

She gulps, biting on her lips hard.

“Actually,” she suddenly finds her voice the loudest in the room. “I think I’d like to try.”

Everybody in the room hoots in encouragement. She chuckles at Meredith as she feels her hand pat her lower back and gives a shaky smile to Glenne who passes her the joint.

“Darling, darling, darling.” Kid jumps up before her. “You are very brave but still don’t feel coaxed into it. Know that none of us are responsible to what you do after the first drag.”

Everybody in the room laughs, and so does she, heartily.

“Let me help you with it.” Kid maneuvers her around as to how to take her first, going step by step with a side by side demonstration.

She hasn’t looked up meet Harry’s eyes, who now stands right before her as she is about to take her first joint in her mouth. She closes her eyes and follows about as Kid had directed her to: suck in the smoke through your mouth and let it travel down your neck and pinch around your throat; feel the coolness of it, then slowly let it release from your mouth; feel the burn in your chest and leisure in the kick that is felt to your brain and just release all the smoke out.

She opens her eyes and feels like in a different dimension. Her eyes first meet Harry’s, who is standing before her in awe of her first reaction. She looks magnificent – raw and red, shining and golden in glee, her eyes and body loose like overcoming the euphoria of a hearty orgasm. He knows the look; it’s even more dangerous than her sensuous one because she looks so vulnerable and oblivious and that makes him lose control.

“Good?” She feels the buzzing of someone’s voice in her ear. She nods, giggling like a child.

With her eyes still trained on Harry, she takes another drag and melts in the ecstasy of the mushrooms, taking Harry into the state with her.  

All her friends hoot again and the joint is taken from her hands. She feels a pat on her head and laughs at everyone’s reaction, and in a moment that she takes her eyes off of Harry, she loses sight of him.

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

She jumps out of everyone’s grab and makes her way onward in search of Harry. Luckily, she didn’t need to go far as she finds him in the balcony, leaning by the railing with a drink in his hand and looking towards her as if in wait of her.

She grins, jumping towards him. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him, smiling back at her upturned face.

“Why’d you do that?” He asks.

She touches their nose together, whispering to his face. “Because I wanted to.”

Their noses slide against one another, mouths breathing over one another.

“Won’t you ask me how it was?”

He shakes his head at her question. “I could see it.”

“See how it felt?” She asks in a childlike amusement. He nods, chuckling.

She slides her face further towards his, slipping past his sleek cheekbones to his ears.

“I want to do those mushrooms with you, Harry.” She admits in a small voice.

He pulls her even closer to him and buries his face in the smell of her hair, nodding slowly.

“I think it’s time for that.”

In a split, he has pulled her away from the crowd and noise of the studio. He takes along and lighter and a joint on the way and locks the two of them in the small bathroom situated at the back of the studio.

She slides into the space and sticks her bottom to the edge of the sink slab, pulling Harry towards her. Their lips melt in a long kiss, her hands falling back to anchor her weight against the granite slab. He pulls away for a moment to pull out the joint and lighter, placing them in his hands before her. His lips meet hers in pecks, kissing along her cheeks and the trail down to her neck, before meeting her eyes again and grinning giddily.

“Watch me.”

He takes the joint in his mouth, bringing the lit lighter to the end of its length. The joint catches fire immediately and he discards the lighter behind her, puffing the joint in between his lips.

She watches in awe as he takes in a lazy drag, pulling out to breath out the smoke above their heads. Her hands find their way up to his chest as he takes another smoke, watching him with concentration when he releases his breath against her face.

The effect has her gasping and him chuckling at her reaction.

He hands her over the joint next, leaning his lower body to hers even more and supporting his waist by his hands on the counter behind her. She takes the joint, looking him in the eye with a glint in hers and takes a long drag.

When she breathes out, she does it too fast and for long and ends up in a coughing mess. He laughs, patting her head and taking the joint from her again.

He points her to look at him and breathes in the joint. Then, he taps her mouth to open and she does, allowing him to breath the smoke out in her mouth. The slight touch of their lips and the smoke has her skin tingling and she throws her head back in pleasure.

He takes the moment and peppers her exposed neck with his lips, sliding his tongue along the length and scooping her skin at the base with his mouth. She groans, grabbing his hair with one hand and using her other hand to snatch the joint.

She takes one drag and releases, pushing her lower hips to his and grinding her groin to his. They are a moaning mess by then.

He looks up at her face as she takes another smoke, breathing out in his face with finesse. Their lips meet again, senses now all lull and detached as they meet in a sloppy kiss.  

“Your mouth tastes so good.” He says in between the kiss. She moans a reply, the joint falling right off of her hand as they go up to wrap around his shoulder.

He grabs her hips, pushing her against the sink slab and on top of it, spreading her legs enough to stand in between them. He grabs the back of her head and pulls her to kiss him again, sliding his other hand down to the zipper of her jeans.

She slips right off the sink as his palms slides into her panties, fingers finding her wet core with ease. His rubbing and touching rubs off her patience bad as she pushes herself further towards him, grinding against his fingers. Before she can fathom what is next for her, he sinks to his knees before her, undoing her jeans and sliding her panties down her legs. He spreads her legs again, guiding her to anchor against the edge of the sink and dips his head in between her thighs.

Her head is thrown back at the feel of his tongue against her throbbing core. She jitters as his tongue works its way on her, her one hand grabbing onto his hair and the other slipping in between her teeth. She feels her orgasm approach already, the high facilitating the mind-blowing climax that awaits her.

But he pulls away then, standing to his feet and undoing his own jeans. She groans and pulls him to her, kissing his mouth in anticipation.

“Sweet. Like strawbe-rries and other be-rries and wa-termelons and…” he slurs in between the kiss, making her laugh.

She pushes her finger against his mouth and shushes him. “Shh…just fuck me, please.”

“Mmhmm.” He groans against her mouth, eyes half shut. “Feel me in your belly, hmm?”

In a moment, he enters her with a painful thrust. She is thrown back against the sink, her arms coming to wrap around his neck in support. He moans from the throbbing of her core against his skin, encouraging to feel all the way till the bottom. He grinds in a slow rhythm, making every stroke count as she is pushed into her earnest climax in the most pleasurable manner.

The sun rises. She blooms and shudders like a flower under him. Her core drips from the remnants of his touch but he doesn’t stop.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

She feels like a cozy summer evening. She feels like a high he never thought he’d get. And the night goes on and on and on.  

[angelisverba]

golden

in which y/n’s life is dark, but the fae king sees she’s golden.

word count: 12k

pairing: y/n and the Fae King, Harry

warnings: allusion to suicidal thoughts, angst, & a very sad reader.

note: This is my fic for the #FineLineFicChallenge that @hsogolden is hosting. I submitted for Golden! Enjoy :)

It was a known fact, that one isn’t to mess with the Fae. 

Don’t try to communicate with them.

Don’t try to find them.

Don’t do anything with them.

Masters of twisting the truth because they cannot tell lies, the ethereal beings were dangerous in the sense that they cared not for anything but their own interest. If they wanted your lover, they would do everything to take them from you. 

But y/n wasn’t one to listen to the rules. 

Especially one that promised her a better life, at no cost other than to seek it.

Her life wasn’t exactly shit, but it also wasn’t enjoyable. It was bland. And, to put it straight, lonely.

She had no family, and no friends or lovers. Life had made surviving her number one priority, and bouncing from job to job her favorite hobby. The girl lived in an apartment that had her feeling like a heroin addict, and she’d never had a dose of drugs in her life that wasn’t Tylenol. And, well, she had the looks of one; a feral, dead look in her eye accompanied with a malnourished body from eating what her pocket change allowed her to: ramen noodles. 

It was pathetic. She had to shower using a cup because the overhead didn’t work, and she couldn’t sit because the bathtub was full of rust on the edges. Her walls were cracked and at night there was a faint scratching of nails in the ceiling. The sink was missing a knob, the light bulb in the mini-fridge didn’t work, and neither did the one in her room. 

But, she couldn’t complain because it was all she could afford. Y/n was grateful that she had a roof over her head, even if it was infested with rats, and the cheapest, tattered clothes on her back. At least she had food, water, clothes, and a home, right? Even if it was the worst quality and her unfortunate state of mind made it worse?

View it however, she was done. Had been for a long time, but she didn’t really know how to stop, how to live a new life.

Until that night.

        *                                                *              *

                                                   *                                **

It was another lonely night for y/n, and those she usually spent in chic bars she would never be able to afford, sipping on drinks and observing. Learning; mentally taking notes of how rich people lived their lives and all the mannerisms that came with it because maybe, just maybe, if she acted like one, she’d be one. That dainty toss of the wrist, the graceful, hypnotizing tilt of the chin that told a man you were interested.

She didn’t dress like she was going to the bar, which made her stick out like a sore thumb in the high-ceiling, leather-furnished, glass-walled place, and she didn’t drink alcoholic beverages. She sat at the far end of the bar counter, sipping on a glass of tap water the bartender gave her because he pitied her, and watched. That last part didn’t really matter because it turned out, rich people got more drunk than people with less money than them-- a blacked out woman (or three) ending up on the marble floors at the end of their outing. Men never tried to talk to her because she always showed up in ragged jeans and shirts with holes in them, and women wouldn’t even look her way. 

That is of course, until another dead-eyed person walked up to the counter. 

She was a Scottish woman, or maybe Irish-- y/n couldn’t remember much. Only that she talked of fairies prancing and singing around mushroom tops and a fairy king that got angry when she said thank you. Drunken slurs, that were only made more incomprehensible by her accent, spilled from her lips at the first sip of brandy, and at the sound of her foreign tone, y/n’s ears perked to hang onto every word.

“Never in my forty two years of putrid life did I see something like that, and I doubt I ever will again.” The woman said to the bartender. She was wearing a sleeveless cardigan the color of hazelnuts when they’ve fallen off trees, decorated with golden medallions that jingled every time she moved her shoulders. Big, was an appropriate word to describe her hair; voluminous, blown out Barbie waves that plumped at the top of her head and bounced all down her back to end at her hips. Her eyes were an engaging amber color, the kohl black charcoal on her eyelids enhancing them like boiling magma, the reddish-brown shade in stark similarity with the blood-red shade of paint on her thick lips. “Dance with us, to your heart's content, so fun you’ll want to never stop, them little brats tried to get me, they did! If it hadn’t been for the Fae King, well--” she huffed, a jerking movement with her entire body, “-- I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.”

The bartender, a middle-aged man in a flannel with a 5 o’clock shadow sprinkled on the lower half of his face, pursed his lips and rolled his eyes as he wiped down a shot glass with a rag. “Sure as hell never seen a drunk lady talk about faeries before. Santa Claus? Sure, but faeries? You must be on some heavy stuff, ma’am.”

Y/n was staring into the center of her glass, watching the water ripple, strangely comforted by the slow movement of the liquid; her fingers tapped rhythmically at the ridges molded into the edges of the cup. It looked as if she wasn’t paying attention, with eyes cast downwards, but every inch of her was standing on edge, eager for a story. Essentially, this was the reason why she came to these bars when she felt like it, to catch a story; be entertained. Her own life wasn’t enough, she needed more, even if it didn’t belong to her.

“Aye, lassie!” shouted the woman, lifting her glass with a pointed finger towards the lonely girl at the other end of the bar. 

At her loud exclamation, y/n glanced up to see what was the cause of the remark, and found the woman looking at her with a peculiar, interested look in her eye. Y/n twisted to look behind her, oblivious that the woman’s true subject was her. Expecting someone to be standing where the woman pointed, she returned to her original position, confused. 

“Lassie, it’s you I’m talkin’ to, listen to this tube, says faeries aren’t real. You believe me don’t you?”

Because the feeling of humor was so scarce in her life, it had turned into a strange and foreign feeling rendering her useless in how to react-- and while y/n found the woman humorous in her drunken ramblings, she wasn’t quite sure how to express it. A wormy smile played on her lips as she nodded her response, the bartender throwing her a bewildered look because it was the first time he’d seen her interact with anyone other than him.

“Well den, I guess you’ll listen to me, won't you? I’ve gotto tell sumone or I’ll go radge.” The woman throws her head back and finishes what’s left of her drink, wiggling two fingers at the bartender to signal: she wants another. Y/n watches from her seat as the lady hops off her seat, one hand on the counter to keep her standing as she wobbles over in her direction; the medallions on her cardigan tinkling with every swish of her hips. When she stood, the dull heels of her knee high boots slapped against the sleek floor, the noise making y/n jump.

“Listen, here,” she sat on the empty bar stool next to y/n with a labored huff, “don’t you ever go walking round the woods on a full moon. My own mother been telling me that since I was on her tit, and I should have listened.” Her tone was slightly spiteful, and exasperated at her own action. She made the same gesture at the young girl, two long-nailed fingers curling and drawing y/n closer to her, as if she was going to tell her a secret. 

Never go walking in the woods on a full moon.

“The trees- they speak. Got ears I’m telling ya,” The woman’s voice rasped at her hushed tone. “Will o’ wisps are sweet talkers, I’m telling ya!” 

Y/n bit her lip in efforts to keep a building laugh in. The stranger didn’t look at all drunk, she was in complete control of her facial features, and her voice was funky because y/n wasn’t used to the accent. If it hadn’t been for the tell-tale empty glasses she kept generating, one wouldn’t even be able to tell. 

Finally deciding to propel the conversation further, she said, “Is that so?” 

“Swear on the Fae King himself, I do! Told me to find the mushrooms for a good time, coz I was out for a piss half mad with moonshine. Knew what they were doin, they did. I thought they meant those that make ya loopy, shite don’t even know what made me listen to them.” She grumbles the last part to herself, her chin tilting down to touch her chest as she frowns.  

“What happened next?” Y/n asked, propping her chin on the flat of her palm. 

The woman looked up, startled like she’d forgotten there was someone there. “Next? Next…. Next, oh yes!” Crossing her legs, she angled her body sideways to y/n. “Will o’ wisps said to walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms and I did! I did! And, and it got me to the fairy realm. ‘Course I didn’t know until after the king himself told me. But this... this circle of sky opened up-- like,” her head tilts to the side as she thinks of ways to form her thoughts into words. “Like the sky fell and was standing before me. Go through it and find eternal happiness, they told me.”

Walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms. Go through it and find eternal happiness.

As soon as those words left the Scottish woman’s lips, y/n was hooked. A part of herself that had slowly been locked away throughout her pitiful, self-depreciating life, and, that part of her came to life-- it bloomed awake, triggered by the words eternal happiness. An earth-shattering revival.If this woman wasn’t spitting shit, then… this was her chance. 

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Her voice went soft and hazy, recalling the images of a far away land. “It was green… everywhere. And the flowers were alive.” She snaps back into a more solid tone, “They fairies were too-faced little bitches, though.”

Y/n nodded, noting and agreeing. “Tell me more.” 

Needing to further probing, the tales continued. “They tried to get me to eat, to dance. And I nearly did, you know? I would have, had it not been for the king… I’d be dead.” The bartender slid a glass their way, a manicured hand reaching to catch it without turning to look at it. “He saved me from them. He apologized for his subjects actions, even housed me for the night, and escorted me out the next day. Mentioned something about…” Her head cocked, eyes squinting. “A star telling him not to wipe fairy dust against my forehead to make me think it was just a dream.”

Someone in the distance dropped a glass, and a shattering noise was heard; reduced to a meager tinkle. The bartender whipped his towel in anger, and went to see what the fuss was about. 

“He was truly… well I can’t even explain it. You’d have to see it with y’own eyes.”

Y/n tapped her forefinger on the plushy center of her lips three times before saying, “And, what exactly do I have to do to see it with my own eyes?” 

The question simmered in unknown waters while the woman registered what y/n had asked. It was clear; the transition of her eyes going from unfocused and dazed to serious. 

“Why, lass, would you want to find those piece of shites?” Her head bobbled. “After I just-”

“I just wanted to hear you tell the story, that’s all.” Y/n shot to respond, set on getting the stranger to tell her how to get to the fairy realm. Every atom in her buzzed with friction against each other, excited, elated to have what basically a reason to life again. What Wonderland was to Alice, this was to her. 

A rabbit hole.

“Legend goes that if a pure-hearted being leaves offerings for the Fae, the Fae may respond. This is why lil’ tikes always talk about, having dem-- imaginary friends. They’re fairies-- they friend, that is. Fae people show themselves to children because they’re pure. Maidens before their wedding night, if desolate, go missing in the woods because the fairies take them. As for me? They wanted to take advantage of me. It’s process; fickle people they are.” A hand waves in the air, brushing away intrusive thoughts. Y/n leaned further into the woman, lips pursed in interest. “Anyways, my mother, her mother and her mother’s mother, have all had encounters with them after long periods of offerings of home-made foods, and planting flowers in the woods. Slowly, over-time, they gather the courage to show themselves. But, what happened to me was the Summoning of the Full-Moon. And- HEY! ‘Nother one please.” She repeats the same motion from before, sliding back the empty glass. 

“What is the Summoning of the Full-Moon?” Tapping her fingers to attract her attention again, y/n’s eyes follow the woman’s desperately.

“Right, right. Fleet aren’t you?” She chuckled. “The Summoning of the Full-Moon happens when the moon is full, and you drink a glass of moonwater from the past full moon. To get the moon water, just leave out a pitcher of water in clear view of the moon when it’s full, that way, when the next full one comes around, you drink a glass. The moon charges the water with it’s energy, and it’ll give ya’ the ability to see will’o wisps.”  

The bartender slid another glass, and the woman took a swig before continuing. “Will ‘o wisps are spirits that appear as floating blue flames of fire, usually three atta time at first; one disheartening and appearing behind the last as you move closer to them. They guide travelers, y’see? They lead you to what your heart wants the most-- or wherever destiny takes you-- depends on which one is mighty. It all takes off from there.” At her last words, the small glass listed, and slammed back down empty.

Y/n nodded slowly, absorbing the information that was unloaded on her. Moon water. Will o’ wips. But,

“What happens next?”

“It’s up to Destiny and wherever She wants ta take ya, lass.” The woman winked, her long, curled lashes fluttering closed momentarily. “Of course, that is if we’re talking about a hypothetical situation, isn’t it?” 

Y/n was about to give a flustered response, when a man decked out in a black and white suit, with shades, an earpiece and slicked-back dark hair, tapped the woman on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. The woman lifted a hand and dropped her eyes to the floor, directing some but not all attention to the man. An abrupt change in her voice sends shivers down y/n’s spine; the friendly rasp converting into a chilling, demanding scorn. “Tell Alex he’ll lose 30k from his next check if he doesn’t fix this in an hour. I’ll be out as soon as I wrap up the lovely conversation I’m having with this lassie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The man says, nodding and walking the way he came.

Lifting her eyes from their casted gaze, the woman locks with y/n’s curious, seeking eyes, and sees. She understands now. The questioning. The peaking glint of interest.

It makes sense. 

“Play your cards right, child.” The woman sighed, her voice suddenly ages older than she seemed. “Play them right, and you’ll find eternal happiness… but, make one wrong move and you’ll screw yourself over forever.”

Then she got up and left. Feet landing one after the other with a firm stance, and a swagger in her walk that hadn’t been there before.

Strange, y/n thought. How quick her demeanor went from drunk to composed.  After that fleeting thought came a tsunami of questions. What was she doing in the woods? What woods? What dis the woman take with her?

But it was too late because the was far gone, and she was left to sit and ponder the countless outcomes that could come if she were to go through with this. For one, eternal happiness. It’s natural for anyone to try and seek it. Who wouldn’t? Especially y/n, who’d been deprived of dopamine for... well, forever. Her childhood was about as good as her current life. Parents who yelled at each other, and at her, leaving her only company to be the stray cats that would lick the tears off of her cheeks; raspy tongues eliciting giggles from the small girl. It was a treasure, what she had found.

She would be stupid if she didn’t at least try.

       *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

Y/n left her measly apartment on a day where the clouds looked like objects you could pluck from the sky; fluffy, white cotton shapes that overlapped and left small sifts of space where the sun shone through in beams.  All was shadowed with soft colors; rough edges turned tender, perfectly appropriate for the way the giddy girl felt inside. Floaty, heady, and delicate with a skip in her step. Aloof with happiness and a tickle in her rib. She no longer cared about anything. The latter was true. She didn’t even tell her landlord she was leaving, or anyone else for that matter. Everything that belonged to her and truly significant, was inside a wicker basket she tucked in the crease of her elbow. Food, and a blanket because she wasn’t sure how long she’d be waiting for the Fae to respond.

The Fae. 

After extensive research at her local public library, y/n realized how… complex these creatures were. It was no joke was she was getting into, and the Scottish woman has been right. Make one wrong move, and it was over. The ethereal beings had the power to make the rest of her life living hell if she messed up before eating their food.

Eating their food,

was all she had to do

to stay.

Bound by whatever magic they possessed, she wouldn’t be able to leave the Fae realm if-- when-- she bit into something from their world. Like giving your soul to the devil, but instead it was faeries who pranced in delight, not flames. This promise, this reward had restored something in y/n that hadn’t been there in years. Child-like glee, innocence, purity. Call it what you want. But it was there; a fresh sprite in her soul. Restoration of a youthful essence. 

But it was there, and it was back twice as strong as when it previously existed in her. Ignited by the words she drank from her computer screen; early morning rises to the library, and late night walks home after closing time fueled her through two months. The first, she dedicated to attaining a jar of moon-charged water. 

There was a mason jar in her cabinet that she used to eat blueberries and milk in, which was the only portable-type cup she had. The night before a full moon, she filled it with tap water, and set it on her window sill. For the first three hours into the dark, y/n watched the moonlight dance in the water like the aurora borealis. Her eyes would focus and unfocus with possibilities of her future; the possibilities of her eternal future extending from the tips of her toes like the yellow brick road.  Images of dewy meadows and heart-shaped ponds full of lilies flooded her mind. Willow trees and flowers to make flower crowns and tea out of. She wanted it. Wanted to live among the Fae, and wander aimlessly with beauty and prose.

She yearned for it.

Y/n woke the next day with a jar of... water. It didn’t look any different then from when she poured it into the cup, other than the fact that the glass was dewy from the cold of the night. Her fingerprints decorated the sides where she gripped it, and after bringing it up to her eyes for closer inspection, she set it on her pillow, and left for the library.

Her seek of Fae knowledge continued, with more vigor now that she’d acquired the water. Everyday consisted of books, online pages, audiobooks; anything she found she ate up like she was starving for it.

And in some ways, she was.

Swallowing more that could fit in her mouth, y/n came to learn that the Fae weren’t exactly the comforting go-lucky deities she’d come to perceive them as. Beautiful, sure, but not all of them. And certainly not sweet. 

Anything, but sweet. Y/n found that faeries were actually formidable creatures that enjoyed watching trouble develop. Legend has it, that the Fae were those caught in the in-between land at the time God shut the gates of heaven, and Lucifer trapped demons in hell. They could be angels or demons; fallen angels, outcasts, forgotten on the human plane. Belief in angelic behavior is reported, but lesser than the haunting actions, or bewitching incidents. It was a blind treasure hunt, the one she was getting herself into.

However, it she wouldn’t let that stop her. In some ways, she felt entitled to an explanation, a slice of truth; and answer. It would be an act of sadism to derive her of euphoria after she’d lived so, so shitty. She owes it to herself to seek them out.

Even if they could haunt her forever, take her first born, and or make her dance until her feet were reduced to stubs, she needed to look. Anything would be better than her reality.

Her adventure started with the seek of Rowan trees, sacred trees commonly associated with the Seelie court, the lesser malicious group of fairies. If... her expectations are even a fraction real, then she’s set. Good to go. Safe.

Or at least, once she found them she would be safe. The woods before sunset were enchanting, with golden tones littering the leaves and bark with glittering light. Pieces of peach-colored sky peeking through the empty spaces in the tree canopy, shadows dancing on her skin with every giddy step she took. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, only that she was looking for the Rowan trees, and the increasing amount of flowers was a good sign (according to the internet). It had been about an hour since she went off the set trail, the ground growing more unleveled with each step. Squirrels and rabbit would scurry across her way every time a branch cracked underneath her feet, and since her eyes were set on the shrubby part of the trees-- looking for the tell-tale red berries of the trees she was looking for-- the furry animals skittered more often than nought.

Slowly, the sun snuggled deep in the horizon, and the remaining light shifted to created harshly shadowed edges on the trees. This prompted y/n to panic, her searching eyes growing faster in their movements. No, no, no, it couldn’t be dark yet. She hadn’t found the trees yet. It would be dark with....

With no light to light her way.

Light. Small flames of blue light, was what the Scottish woman said the Will ‘o wisps were. And to see them, all she had to do is drink the moon water.

The moon water that was in her wicker basket.

With the last of the sun floating away, y/n hurried to flip open the top of her basket, deft fingers dipping in to wrap around the cool mason jar. She screwed it open, lifting it to her lips and taking two generous mouthfuls of the water. She needed to sip at it cautiously, because the offering acceptance took time, and she’d need more than one night to work this out.

To find her way back to whatever spot the spirits took her, she’d need the water. There would be no waiting at the gates of the realm, given that the faeries were suspicious creatures, and it would take time for them to judge and be comfortable around her; deem her a pure maiden at heart. Hovering in the area where she placed her gift would jeopardize any chance at them accepting, or even considering her entrance into the realm

She would have to be patient. And she would be.

Y/n was full of buzzing energy and she let her eyes adjust to the growing darkness. The sun had gone down completely. The trees reduced to smeared shadows and mysterious shapes. Her skin was victim to a crisper kind of air- the cold having a sharper edge to it in the absence of sun. The moon shone brightly, she could see it through the same spaces where the sun had shown through; a milky-white face in the sky, frozen mid-yawn, and though her light was strong, it wasn’t enough to penetrate through the wood’s thick roof of leaves. 

The path space that formed in the gaps of the trees, was cloaked in a pitch blanket, general figures of branches and trees ghosting in her squinted line of vision. Shivering, she shrugged the quilt she carried onto her shoulders, and it was when huddled into herself when she heard the first whisper. 

We hear you.

It was one voice; one whisper. And hundreds resonating behind it. A small, shy, wispy call out to her, sounding as if it were right at the lobe of her ear. 

Y/n is startled, and she jumps, clutching her fists tighter towards her chest, the basket digging into her hip and chafing on the skin in the crook of her elbow, but she doesn’t pay any mind to it because holy shit it’s happening.

Often reported, the wisps whisper or make high pitched whirring noises to catch the attention of the traveler. This was it. What she was hearing, was the calling. The will o’ wisps.

Her head whipped wildly from side to side, searching for the hovering blue and it’s incandescence. Eyes wide with seeking fervor, lips parted as puffs of air left her lips when her chest came down, y/n felt a rush of adrenaline course through her spine. 

“Who can hear me?”

Suddenly, a flashing burst of electric blue color appeared in the distance, about 10 steps away from her current position. She gasped at the sudden outbreak, her eyes stretching to their maximum diameter. All the inklings of doubt that had seeded themselves in her break uprooted and flew in the wind; gone. Real. It was all real. 

And she was doing it. She was helping herself. Providing to her soul what she couldn’t for years: happiness. The mere appearance of these spheres entities sent a buzz of ecstasy to the center of her core because they were real and she was really doing this.  

I can

I can

I can

Three chants of ‘I can’ tinkled, one after the other, appearing with every she took towards the spirit. Her knees shook slightly, goosebumps prickling on her knees with every movement. Eerily, branches crack underneath the soles of her shoes, and she can feel the dispersion of energy against her feet when the wood cracks. With the lack of sun, and how she’s so hypnotized by the will o’ wisps, she doesn’t see the thick hump of tree root sticking out from the ground, the tip of her shoe catching on it and causing her to fall fly forward and dig her nose in the dirt. The basket gets crushed between the dirt and her hip, the abrupt and uncontrolled pressure eliciting a pained yelp from her. Her hand comes out stiffly from underneath the blanket, rushing to push herself back up and relieve the intrusion. As she’s hissing, the dreamy, other-worldly whispers say,

Oh no

Are you okay?

Are you still able,

To come and play?

Smaller, quieter, different toned whispers echo each murmuring, creating a dizzying, mind-spinning effect. To a certain extent, it disoriented her. But the tender, cooing voices smoothed over her unease and comforter her. Encouraged her, even.

Huffing, y/n dragged her dungaree covered knees underneath her, and sat kneeled for a moment.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She panted, the experience amazing her. “Who are you?” 

She stood again, feeling her dented basket with her other hand while she waited for a response. 

We are messengers of Destiny

We will take you 

To what your heart wants most

Be quick, Your Majesty

They won’t way forever

Your Majesty? Now why on earth would they call her that? Befounded, she walked with cautious steps towards the first spirit, and tried to caress it with her fingertips. She wanted to feel it, hold it. But alas, as soon as her hand got close, it disappeared as quickly as it came, and reappeared behind the other two that were in line. The trio produced a bio-luminescent radiance that would surely stump any scientist who tried to explain the logic behind it. There simply was no other reasoning to the phenomenon, other than it was magic. 

She knew that. Could feel the altered tensions in the proximity of the will ‘o wisps, calmer and still where they were. Beats of her heart pounded where her tongue lay, dry, in her mouth. She wasn’t royalty. 

“Why are you calling me that? Why… why are you calling me your majesty?” Y/n stared intently to the very core of the wisps, noticing the change of color at the center. White flickers of tiny bodily shapes, like the spirits were dancing idly in their own capsule of light. 

Destiny calls you so

Destiny yearns for you

You’re almost there

Be quick, Your Majesty

She didn’t understand. Your Majesty, was a title reserved for royals wasn’t it? She was not one. In the midst of her confused and amazed state, a lineage of wisps appeared behind the third one, creating a long path that went straight and then made an abrupt turn left. Enchanted, she followed in a zombie-like state. This was real and it was happening. It was real because her nose was bitten-raw from the cold and her nails pinched into the skin of her palm. Pain didn’t exist in dreams, and her hip still ached where the basket has pressed against it.

This wasn’t a dream.

Will ‘o the wisps flickered in their formation, bursting away when she came into proximity. The exhilarating thrill of attempting to catch; chasing, is what caused her to let out a squeaky giggle that eventually grew into harmonious laughter. Light, gleeful chortles bounced between the trees, and if anyone were to hear here from a distance they’d surely think the woods were haunted. 

Eventually, she reached the turn, and was set onto a winding, twisting road of curving blue light. Y/n was light on her feet, raising them high and setting firmly on the ground. She began to run. 

She ran and ran until her throat went dry, her lungs burned, and her thighs ached; body begging for a break, heart high on the drug of hope. Every slight twist in the wood only motivated her further, coaxing her towards her end target of… wherever the wisps were taking her. She was so submerged in the task of following that she was quite surprised when she arrived at a clearing; a circular space where the trees curved around, almost respectfully. The wisps made a beeline towards the middle, where they made the same pattern the trees did, forming a circle around a ring of mushrooms. 

It was almost comical, the way the red-topped, white-dotted mushroom were arranged in a circle big enough to lay, sprawled, in the middle. 

You’ve made it

You’re here

Destiny wishes you luck

Stay strong, Your Majesty

And then, they dissipated; flip of a switch and the lights were off.

For two days, she waited. The first night, she layed her homemade thumbprint cookies and honey in the center of the ring, leaving a sweet kiss on the wooden plate, and walked aimlessly until the balls of her feet ached. It wasn’t that far, because she had already done so much walking, and the girl was drained from the events she’d witnessed. Y/n settled in an alcove of tree roots, wrapping herself snug with her quilt but shivering despite her efforts. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but she waited until the morning, wanting to make the food she brought last as long as possible. 

She woke with the faint images of golden petals floating around her, faeries dusting shimmering substances on the top of her head, and a demanding grumble in her stomach. The dirt underneath her hand was soft, dipping in where her the pad of her fingers dug in to push herself up. Instantly, she was met with the feeling of something wet striping up her cheek, a sniffing like noise filtering through her ears.

Blinking, y/n groggily turns her hear, and comes face to face with... a pig. It snorts when it see her move, sitting back on it’s haunches and looking up at her with bunched cheeks so it looked like it was smiling. Y/n’s jaw dropped in shock. Where had this pig come from?

It’s pink skin was a cool contrast in the light of the late-morning sun (y/n was never much of an early riser), and upon closer inspection, she saw the pig was a he. His nose was twitching with interest at the stranger he’s encountered. Ears floppy, bent and jiggling with every call squeal he exhibited, hooves half dug into the dirt. He watched patiently, inspecting and almost waiting for orders. 

“Where’d you come from?” She asked, intrigued at his presence. They both shared a small moment of staring at each other in wonder until her stomach emitted a stale gurgle, pleading for food. The piglet (which he was, given his small stature and clean snout), squealed again, standing up with a jump and walking around in a circle three times, chasing after it’s curly tail before stilling, with his rump facing y/n. He began to walk backwards, continuing until his back legs came up on her lap, and he plopped himself down, tilting his head up with a pleasant smile, while y/n stared at the small creature, astounded.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” She said with a light giggle, reaching with one hand for her basket, and the other to pet the small thing’s head. She might as well embrace him, so she had company. 

The basket was right by her shoulders while she lay, meaning it was now behind her because she had sat up. Clutching the pig so he wouldn’t fall out of her lap while she moved, she twisted her upper body to grab the basket, and the pig adjusted himself, pressing his two front feet onto her lep repeatedly. Making shushing noises, she flipped open the wicker flap, and reached in to grab whatever she found. 

A sleeve of ritz crackers, that she ripped open eagerly, popping the first cookie into her mouth. Chewing, she looked around for the first time that day.

She was surrounded by much, much bigger trees than the ones she was venturing in the day before. Tall, brooding giants; rows and rows of trunks thicker than her wingspan and arching branches casting shadows on those who walked underneath. Might and wise, but silent and still. And intimidating network of roots on the ground mirrored the intertwining leaves above her, so high up she had to throw her head all the way back to see the expanse.

Breathtaking, is what it was. Y/n hadn’t been this connected with nature since that field trip she took with her third grade class to the blooming tulip meadows. She appreciated their presence, basked in the beams of light that shone through and grazed over the grass and moss on the trees. She even stopped eating, transfixed by the image before her, and she would have continued pondering in the glorious, godly image of greens and brown had the pig in her lap not shifted to sniff at her hand. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, glancing down at his curious tilted head. “Want some crackers, too?” Y/n wriggles her fingers into the brown packaging and took out two cookies, setting one on her tongue and extending the other towards the pig. He sniffs at it, his snout twitching, before cocking his head and picking it up with the side of his mouth. The pig gets close to her, placing the flat underside of his chin in the groove of her neck, snorting appreciatively. 

“You’re a cute one,” she hums more to herself, tracing the pads of her fingers on the piggy’s back. 

They fall asleep like that again, after y/n had finished the sleeve of crackers. The girl so calmed by the image presented in front of her, she slipped into a light slumber, the breeze and waving sheets of leaves lulling her eyes closed. 

She spent the day like that, rationing her food, and sleeping, the pig switching positions from her lap, to her side, and eventually by her feet. The thick quilt she had brought stayed on her shoulders at all times, keeping her warm in the crispy forest air. 

Nearing the sunset again, a butterfly landed on the tip of her nose, stretching its wings and tickling her awake. Her eyes fluttered opened when everything around her was lit a golden haze; the tell-tale sign that the sunset was near, and so was the night. The blue butterfly flew away when she took the first breath, and she watched it fly away with hazy eyes, not fully awake and aware yet. 

Y/n jumped when the piglet let out a squeal, and upon looking down, she saw that he had remained settled into her side while she slept.

With a smile on her lips as she placed her hands on her back to stretch, she said, “Well, hello there!” She patted his head, and he leaned into her touch. “You stayed!”

The pig smiled, which sounds ridiculous but his lips really turned upwards, filling his eyes with a glint, and squealed his response. Y/n’s heart warmed at the sweet animal, happy that she had company and wasn’t alone. Her friends, she realized, had always been furry. Animals were the only beings that were ever welcoming of her, treasured her presence, and reciprocated the love she had to offer.

“Will you stay through the night as well?” The girl remarked, scratching behind the piglet’s ears. “I sure hope so.” A sad look took over her face, the corners of her lips pinching downwards as a sudden wave of forlorn thoughts washed over her.

She was sitting in the forest, all by herself, following after a drunk woman’s rants because that it what her dissatisfaction led her to. That’s how much she lacked. That’s how much she yearned for. It goes to show the large chunk that was missing, because she had no second thoughts about doing so. It hurt, knowing no one would worry about her, and that she had nothing to regret leaving.

As if sensing her unease, the pig started bucking up into her hand, his snout blowing onto her palm and tickling her skin. The action made her laugh, her first genuine, comfortable laugh at an act of humor. A deep, belly chuckle that made her cheeks hurt. 

She had learned to laugh again. 

Y/n got up from her spot on the forest floor, and stretched with her arms reaching towards the canopy, fingers splaying and tightening the skin between them. Taking a deep breath, the corner of her lip quirked up in her smile.

Night two was underway and she was ready.

With her furry companion, the girl picked her basket up and began her walk in the general direction of her arrival. It was hard to tell, because it was pitch black when she made it to her spot, but either way she walked far enough that she would need guidance from the wisps to get back on the correct track.

The sun repeated the same routine it had the day before, splashing an assortment of colors on tree bark and leaves, streaking the sky wild orange taints and soft blues to contrast. It was ethereal image, the one she was witnessing. Like something out of a documentary, except she was there, seeing it with her own eyes. 

Her neck was starting to hurt with how much she craned it to see the mesh of vibrancy in the sky, and the piglet alongside her had often bumped it’s small snout on her ankle when she stopped moving to gaze. When night finally came, the moon was a partly eaten up by shadow, her color less vibrant that the day before. But it was fine, because according to research, what mattered most was the first offering on the full moon.

Repeating the same steps from last night, y/n took another drink from her glass, and blinked three times exactly, waiting for the wisps to formulate in front of her.

And they did.

But there was something different about it this time. They were quiet, a change from their past fizz of whisper. Confused, y/n tilted her head and tried to speak to the.

“Hello?”

Silence. Not even the whistling sound of their breaths. The wind had stopped, and as the line of blue orbs created a twisting route between the trees, the hairs on y/n’s spine stood on end. The air was charged with... a certain potential that was impossible to miss. A certain static of promise.

Tonight was the night.

As she walked towards the wisps, her footsteps were accompanied by the soft pitters of her tiny friend, stuck by her feet still, despite everything happening around them. Could he see them too? Was her cold? He probably was. If y/n was cold, then he was too. Deciding to not only warm herself up, she took out her blanket and bent down to pick him up, cradling him against her chest and wrapping the blanket around him as well, to which he responded with a cuddle into her neck.

With purpose in her step, the hopeful girl began her journey, following the marked up path left by the wisps. It was, as expected, longer than the first. She had ensured that she was far enough away before settling down for the night.

Nevertheless, she made it to the blue luminescent ring of red-topped mushroom (like the ones from Mario), and stared. 

It was apparent, that she had no clue what to do next.

“Now what? Tell me what to do?”

The last wisp, placed in the center of the ring, spoke for all the spirits the first time since they appeared that night.

Destiny had spoken once, She will not speak again.

The knowledge you need to open the realm,

is one you already know.

Furrowing her eyebrows, y/n took a moment to digest the message.

She knew? She knew how to open the gate? The extent of her research only described protocol on fairy manners, what they were like, and what to do in the case of an encounter. Never explicitly the steps to open the realm to meet them. Yet, the wisps said otherwise. They claimed she knew the ways to open the realm.

How could that be true… 

The woman looked up, startled like she’d forgotten there was someone there. “Next? Next…. Next, oh yes!” Crossing her legs, she angled her body sideways to y/n. “Will o’ wisps said to walk the opposite way a clock does around the circle of mushrooms and I did! I did! And, and it got me to the fairy realm. ‘Course I didn’t know until after the king himself told me. But this... this circle of sky opened up-- like,” her head tilts to the side as she thinks of ways to form her thoughts into words. “Like the sky fell and was standing before me. Go through it and find eternal happiness, they told me.”

OH. The Scottish woman! The Scottish woman had told her exactly what to do. Walk counter-clockwise around the circle of mushrooms. 

And that was it. 

All she had to do. 

Y/n was in the middle of contemplating if she should do it or not, given she had only presented one offering, when she saw the note.

In the middle of the ring, lay a fist sized scroll that was only visible because the last wisp hovered above it. The pig next to her glanced from her to the script, and skipped over to clutch the script with his mouth, and trotted over to give it to her. 

The wisps didn’t disappear when the pig approached it, but it raised higher above the ground, above her head and just past that; blue light glowing just a bit brighter.

The girl bent to get the note from the piglet, and gave it a small pat on the head before unrolling the thick paper. It had a very quality feel to it, grooves tickling her finger-pads. The slip, not much better than her hand, read,

the pie was delicious. we are most appreciative of it. proceed.

The black inked scripture widened her eyes, sending a shiver up her spine.

Well, that settled her question. She could, proceed.

And she did. Y/n placed the note in her basket, and picked up her small friend, needing the emotional support. Her lungs expanded in a burning breath, bracing herself for what was to come. No turning back now.

She angled herself so her feet were parallel to the mushroom she was near, and began to walk. Please let me in, please please please let me in. I need this, please. She begged mentally. The girl wasn’t sure what would happen if this went wrong. Her hopes were high, and the crash would be devastating.She begged to whoever would listen; whoever was in charge. Please let me in.

Nothing happened, until she passed her third mushroom.

The remaining will o’ wisp began to expand, it’s light turning a lighter blue color, bubbling out and expanding into a concrete oval, growing in size as she made her way around the ring. The pig in her arms was quiet, not affected by what was going on like he saw it happen everyday, but y/n, on the other hand, was having her mind blown. Her lips were parted as soft breaths came out of them, scared to breathe to her full capacity, watching as the color of light went from blue to yellow. The two colors merging in a gradient shift, the orb growing bigger and larger as water expands when spilled on a flat surface.

Fleeting shadows danced through the portal, like the reflection of birds flying over a lake’s surface. 

Y/n picked up the pace on her last round, and a breeze began to blow out her hair. the light from the now door-sized hole turned a golden color; a glittering, metallic shade of yellow that swirled in a spiral at the speed of her steps, dizzying her. The far-away sounds of a child’s giggled resonated through the forest, coming from the golden circle in the ring.

When she stopped at her starting mark at the end of the third rotation, the portal rose higher, higher, higher, and then floated down like a swaying feather in the air, the golden beams of light now shooting skyward.

It came to lay on the grass covered floor, flattening in the area inside the circle of the mushrooms, the gold-lined edge nearly touching the tip of her show.

The front of her face was covered in the golden light, her eyes gleaming in the colored glow. Laughter sounded from it, the sound of music teasingly escaping, low enough that she could hear it over the lapping water noises from the portal.

The pig, still in her arms, began to thrash and squirm, squealing wildly until y/n finally let him go, and he didn’t hesitate to jump in the pool of gold.

“Wait, wait no, n-,” y/n protested, but his curly tail was gone before her hand even attempted to catch him.

After his leap, the portal rippled, and cleared into a calm mustard yellow splashed with... clouds? It was a piece of sky that fell to the ground, just like to woman had said. Without thinking twice about it, she jumped through, just like her friend had done.

Her body was instantly met with a chilling wind, as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes. It was a disorienting feeling of shooting up, and coming back down like she was falling, landing in the same spot where the portal had been, except now it was closed. Her butt ached where is received most of the impact, and y/n groaned as she pushed herself back up, the budging feeling of her basket restricting her arm movement present, but… the weight of her clothing was gone. 

And, when she glanced down at her body, it was confirmed that she was bare.

As in, no clothes, no underwear, no bra or panties.

Y/n shrieked.

Who, when, and how had her clothes come off if she hadn’t taken them off herself? She ignored the fact that she was in the fairy realm to cover herself with her hands, glancing up to see who may have seen her, only to view a landscape unlike any other.

Rolling hills, seemingly endless with giant trees on top of each one, bigger than the ones she had slept alongside, with flower-filled valleys and and a crystalline river that cut a path through a hill and disappeared into an arch of trees. Children with elvish features stared up at her from the nearest valley, blue flowers littered in their hair to match the pink color tinted in their cherub cheeks. Brown ad white rabbits alike roamed around her, does grazed in the meadows. The sun was nestled in the horizon, just barely peeking in the dip of two hills, sky the same glittering golden color the portal had been. Everything was untouched by technology. No building or antenna towers, but homes in tree trunks or underneath giant mushrooms.

The faeries were staring at her. All with features a human would posses, but a certain other-worldy-ness regular people didn’t posses.

They were all beautiful, with full lips and striking eye colors to match their leafy outfits pertaining to their niche. Two of them ran up the hill on which she sat, edgy grins on their lips as they approached her with their hands behind their backs. One was dressed in the fluffy feathers of a peacock, black hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears, curving up at the nape of his neck. The feathers draped over his shoulders and fanned around his arms, ending just at the end of his wrists so the his hands showed; talons in the place of nails. His lips were beak like, the cupids bow dragging over his bottom lip to imitate a bid’s curved mouth. The other man standing next to his was dressed just the same, except that he had no hair and his ears curved like a ram’s above his head.

Suddenly, her pig friend jumped onto her lap, and began the same squealing as before. Urgent and forbidding, pressing his rump back into her, but leaning forwards as if to ward them off.

“You again, Angus?” The one with the ram horns said, quirking his eyebrow into a perfect arch at the same time his tilted in that direction, giving him a graceful yet mechanical look. Intimidating and cold. His voice was equal to the ear-splitting sound of a fork against plate.

The other one spoke. “How’d you get away from Harry this time, you littl-”

“Pias and Rye? You best stop right there!” Another voice spoke, making y/n twist her heard towards where a crowd had formed in the nearest valley. Mostly creatures with childish features, holding fruits of bunches of petals to their bare chests.

There was a woman, with curly red hair and striking blue eyes. Droplets of water seeped from her skin, collecting at the dress she was wearing, which looked like rippling bodies of water floating above her skin, the placed surrounding her most intimate areas a darker color of water, whereas everything else was translucent. A blob of liquid floated near her head; a crystalline globe of water that contained a golden koi fish that moved on its own around it’s companion, swirling around her unruly red coils of hair.

“Well if it isn’t-”

“I’d shut it, if I were you. Just wait until he hears that you weren’t going to follow protocol. Now, leave.” At her emphasis, her grey eyes flashed bright white momentarily, scaring even y/n, but fulfilling their purposes in warding off the other two fairies. They turned around and left with their prides damaged, turning back to look every other step.

The woman turned to look at y/n, her face transformed into a welcoming smile.

“Hello, my name is Marianne, Welcome to the Fae realm.”

       *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

Marianne took y/n to the river, opposite the way the two other faeries left, and clapped her hands to snap everyone's’ gazes away, while y/n listened to every command with no hesitation.

One their way to the river, y/n was covered in monarch butterflies that flew from a nearby bush, arranging themselves like a skirt on her hips, their wings twitching and fluttering with every step she took. Her top half was taken care of by her pig friend, whom she learned was called Angus, which she clutched to her chest like when they walked around the mushrooms.

Marianne apologized for the other faeries’ behavior, and led her into a giant water lily, holding her hand as she stepped in. The large green leaf coasted down the river, giving y/n a proper sight-seeing experience. They passed by tree roots that elevated above the water’s surface, and passed through the center of a hill like a tunnel. The golden skies seemed to place a filter on everything it touched, making it look like the water held diamonds, and the dew on other floating lilies were pearls. Leafy branched from willow trees on the river bank reached out to touch the newcomer, caressing y/n’s bare shoulder’s as she passed. She watched it all happen with parted lips, intoxicated by the luxurious feeling of magic pouring over her; skin coated in remnants of glittering water from the tips of the tree leaves that dipped in water.

So fixed on the trees and their giant glory, y/n didn’t see the stone castle coming into view from behind the passing green hill; the river turning into the castle’s moat, floating alongside the uneven stone walls patterned different colors from time, sun, and water, but magnificent in it’s ancient glory.

The girl noticed Marianne staring at her, and in her embarrassment, she turned around to attempt to compose herself, but her efforts were thrown away when her eyes found the castle. Romantic, rustic walls covered in curtains of ivy that grew all around. Blinking, y/n gasped as the lily pad came to a stop right before the entrance of the tunnel underneath the bridge, and rose to meet it. She glanced down to see they were off the river’s surface, level with the top of the stone arch. Marianne stepped off, her bare feet stable on the path and she extended a hand for y/n to grab onto.

Stunned, she took hold of the woman’s wet grip, and followed after her, throwing her head back to view the entirety of the castle. Windows with no glass carved rows into the walls, allowing sun to stream in to the rooms and halls. The drawbridge lowered for the two guests, dropping with a loud rustling of chain.

Walking across is at, goosebumps possessed her skin, and she felt the shameful, poking sensation of being exposed settle in her breastbone. Castles meant kings and queens; she was being brought to the king and she was practically naked.

Her chest rose, and her stomach filled filled nervous breaths. Her pals became moist against Angus’s furry one, who seemed calm and sated with the whole ordeal. 

Once across the drawbridge, they were met with an open courtyard framed by the castle walls, a cobblestone path leading to an arched entrance, where Marianne followed The courtyard was full of wild grass up to her ankles, stone arches in the middle of the scene, with rope swings and flowers hanging down, ominously still. A bench centered in an arrangement of statues of men in heroic poses holding harps and arrows, a floating body of water in the place of a fountain. Much, much more attracted the girls curious eyes, but Marianne pushed past a curtain of foxgloves, and led her into the castle hall and her view was cut off, dragged into... the throne room.

The throne room clearly because in the center of the sun-lit room, there was a throne covered with wild flowers where the king sat, legs spread and back against the seat as he listened a subject speak.

He wore a red ensemble, by-far the most magnificent of anyone in the room. Transparent garments the color of cranberries draped on the broad expanse of his olive-skinned shoulders, waves of the material hanging loosely on his hard biceps, a tassel tied around his waist to taper an accentuate the strong muscles seen through the garment. The cloth bunched at his groin, and fell in folds around his muscular thighs and down his calves, stopping at his ankles and exposing his bare feet.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of his throne, each finger falling after the other, adding to the powerful aura of his character. Plump lips colored that matched the tone of the nipples that poked through the thin fabric on his chest, mouth arranged into a hard, concentrated line as he listened. Eyebrows dipped just slightly, drawing attention to the vibrant emerald eyes that gleamed in the sun that illuminated his castle. Structured jaw that twitched with the movement of his lips, leading down to the delicate skin of his neck, equally delectable as the rest of him.

Y/n knew he was the king by the tell tale crown that rested on his head. A golden wrap of laurel leaves that nestled on the caramel curls that were pushed back and away from his face.

She wasn’t aware that she was holding her breath, until he glanced up and locked eyes with her. His eyes brought instant relief to her, her body uncoiling, lungs releasing the air their were holding. His lips pulled up into a pleasant smile that made her heart leap and causing one to appear on her face, too. Oddly, she felt safe the instant her eyes landed his, the green sating all of her doubts.

“Marianne? And Angus? Angus is that you?”

Angus jumped from y/n’s arms, landing on the stone floor with a snort and running over to meet the king, jumping into his arms and nuzzling his snout into the king’s face.

The absence of the pig in her arms, left her breasts bare for all to see, and given y/n was transfixed by the king’s voice, smooth like honey with a beautiful scratch that was pleasing to listen to, she didn’t rush to cover herself.

Meaning the king, and the subject he was speaking to, had the time to look at the curves of her chest.

An unreadable look took over the king’s face, and he frowned down at the floor before saying, “You may leave now, Rives.”

The subject cleared his throat, and rushed out at his king’s command. He snapped his fingers, and two of the butterflies on her legs flew up and covered her nipples with their wingspan.

“Your Majesty,” Marianne bowed, and y/n looked over at her before doing the same thing, awkwardly curtsying and the king’s lips quirked at her attempt. “I found her with Pias and Rye. They planned to trick her, Your Highness.”

“Very well, Marianne. You may leave now.” He said. The woman bowed and left without turning back, leaving y/n alone with the king.

A moment passed, ensuring the water fairy had left before he began to speak again, leaning forward on his throne and smiling fully at the human. Y/n instantly took note of the dimple on his cheek, and she blushed at the simple fact that he was looking at her while she was so exposed.

“Oh! My apologies, surely you’d like some clothes wouldn’t you?” He asked rhetorically.

Y/n nodded sheepishly, and crossed her arms over her torso.

“Right, well let’s see.” He stood, letting Angus on the floor with a small pat to his head, and walked off into another archway on the left side of his throne, mumbling “come, come” to get y/n to follow him. She walked behind him, shamelessly grazing her eyes over his back, adoring the way his muscles dimpled his shoulder blades, and hating the way she can’t see the cleft of his buttocks of the strategic bunching of the fabric, the color darkening and making it hard to see through it.

The archway led to a short hall of portraits and moss-covered head statues, before opening to a steep staircase, which the king stepped on, going all the way up and choosing the right branching of stairs from the landing. By the time they reached the top, y/n was huffing and her thighs ached from the walks in the forest.

The stairs opened to a hallway of rooms, and the king entered the third on the right, revealing a sun-lit room. The corner closest to the window was covered in tree tranches, twigs extending and branching along the pink colored wall, small leaves and flowers twisting up to the roof, splaying over the bed to create a net of petals around the fame of it.

He led her to the center of the room, and sat one of the chests. She stood nervously, unsure of where to take her place because she didn’t want to offend him. It was easy to do that with faeries.

“Stand right there,” he pointed to an elevated tree stump opposite of him.

Y/n felt the butterflies flutter wildly at the drastic movement of her knee hiking up, and her ears burned red when she felt cool air blow on her intimate area.

“Now turn to face me.” She turned, and came face to face with the king, who sat with his ankles crossed, and hands clamped between his thighs, back straight.

He removed a hand, and snapped once.

Instantly, the butterflies flew off of her body, and out the window.

Y/n yelped, and rushed to cover herself, forearm over her breasts, palm at her mound.

“M’lady I need you straight so I can adorn you with clothing. I’d have someone else do it, but it’s just me here.” The king said, voice a whisper. His eyes drooped, eyebrows slanting and softening his whole demeanor.

Y/n would have responded, said something to protect her modesty, but she was just too out of it. Her brain running on autopilot by the events that had occurred, that she went pliant under his orders and obeyed. She wasn’t even ashamed anymore. 

The king’s fingers moved along her figure from a distance, twiddling across her body, and as he did so, a milky glitter grew upwards from the tree stump, wrapping around her calves and up her thighs, tightening just lightly at her hips, and resting snugly up her torso. Setting on her shoulders, she blinked slowly at the finished product, her tongue too tied to attempt a dreamy woah.

He had dressed her in a silk toga, the material so light it felt like she was wearing nothing.

“There we go!” He cheers, another small smile gracing his lips, melting y/n.

“I am most appreciative, Your majesty.” She bowed her head respectfully, her hands coming to fold at her navel.

“It is alright to say thank you. M’trying my absolute best to dilute a lot of the negative stigma around my people, but with fools like Pias and Rye it’s nearly impossible.” He stops, shaking his head to himself before looking back up and saying, “And you can call me, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry, my name is y/-” before she could finish her sentence, the Fairy King interrupted her with a green flare of his eyes, heat radiating off his translucent cranberry ensemble, licking her skin with warnings of heat. 

“I don’t want to know your name.” He said, his voice changing from jovial to demonic.  His eyes pinch closed, and his shoulders tense, momentarily reeling himself back in, and the licks of heat turn a soothing cool. “Please, not yet.”

Harry sounds nearly broken, pained by the restriction.

“I-”  y/n started. She collected herself, taking a deep breath before saying, “I understand.”

His eyes opened again, and uncertain fire blazing in the green of his irises. “Do you? Do you really?” Harry’s tone is mocking, angry. He’s mad, but not at her and she knows that. Deep down inside her, she knows this is him baring himself, this is him slipping her a piece of information, and she’s grateful they get to start off an a truth slate, but not at the way he’s presented himself.

He’s got no right to talk to her that way, she feels.

“Yes! I do understand! It’s the reason why I’m here!” She fires back at him, her nostrils flaring, and eyes wide. By the time she’d finished with her aggravated statement, her chest is heaving.

Both go quiet, the revelation heavy between them. Harry realizes that one, he’s been extremely rude, and two, he and this girl may be more alike that he thinks.

“Why are you here?” He asks, his face doing the thing again, there his eyes droop downwards like a puppy’s when it’s begging. Soft. tender.

Y/n takes a deep breath, and begins. “I need to escape. If.. if I stayed even a moment longer I wholeheartedly believe I would have died. Everyday was a mindless drone, and it was eating at me. I came to ask for permanent residence in your realm.”

When Harry doesn’t respond, y/n crosses her arms over her chest, and picks at the skin of her elbow nervously. Her throat closes up and eyes well up with tears. But, she’s not sad. She’s overwhelmed with emotion because for the first time, she’s admitted it out loud; formulated into a coherent thought instead of a general feeling.

The king, touched by her vulnerability, gets close enough to her that so he can uncross her arms to stop the girl from harming herself. This stranger, so unexpectedly placed into his world, understood him. She knew what it was like to go unnoticed; to not get what she wanted out of life. But to risk forever? Is that really what she wanted? 

“I do not know if this much of a wise decision. The rules of my realm are diff-”

Y/n grips at his arms, her eyes pleading and her tone desperate. “Please,” tears slip from her eyes, and neck veins protrude in stress, “You don’t understand. The past day has given me more than I’ve ever received from my life. Do you know much happiness Angus has given me? Or standing on a lily pad while trees touch my shoulders? Let me stay.”

She’s shaking him, grip so tight her nails make crescent marks in his skin.

“Do not cry, my lady,” he begs, voice just barely audible. “You must understand the severity of your words. This lifestyle is not a situation in which you can change your mind when your heart so pleases. The fairy life is forever.”

“I don’t care. I will die, if I go back.”

“Your species will perish either way. Humans are destined to die.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone. At this, y/n drops in a heap of desolation, and places her face in her hands, shoulders shaking her sobs.

Her begging, her uprooting, was all for nothing. Her hopes were crashing, she wouldn’t survive this fall.

The strings of Harry’s heart pull ferociously at him, his instinct telling him he has to help her. He has to. Even if it goes against everything faeries stand for. He was king, he could do whatever he wished

He bent down, his feet bending at the toes in a crouch, and he placed a hand on the girls wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could see her when he uttered the words, “But, I will give you three days.”

At that moment, y/n thinks he looks magnificent. A curl has slipped from the crown’s grip, falling to rest over his left eye, and his eyes sparkle with golden specks of the sun that slip past y/n’s shoulders and his face. Shadows ghost over the left side of his face, accentuating the right side, and y/n sees for the first time, the small moles on his chin, and the bags underneath his eyes. Bags that come from nights of no sleep. 

She knows because she had them too.

“Three days?” It comes out wet, her voice thick with the saliva that had collected in her mouth, and the mucus at the back of her nose.

“A period of time for you to be sure of this choice. A human can go three days without food or water, and I wish for you to have the most time possible. You cannot eat or drink, because by fairy law you are bound to stay the moment it passes your throat. I will not allow a forced decision. This is a choice you must make on your own.” When y/n’s eyes began to fall, the king placed a warm hand on her cheek, drawing her eyes back to him. He needed to know she was sure, and her eyes would let him know everything.

She was sure. She was very sure, and he could see that. More than that, she was even irritated he’d make her wait that long.

“Three days?” She asked

“Three days.”

[tobesobri]

Welcome to the official masterlist for the Fine Line Fic Challenge! I have only included songs that were chosen (sorry to Lights Up and TPWK). The list will be updated as stories get posted from now until February 1st. So, under each song there will be: @/writer: summary/first line of story [LINK TO READ]. These are listed in no particular order whatsoever. 

You can also find every single story on my blog under the tag ‘FineLineFicChallenge’ (or click the link here)!

🌸Key:

* = smut/sexual content

< = less than 3k

> = more than 3k

🏆Golden

@angelisverba​: In which y/n’s life is dark, but the fae king sees she’s golden. [LINK TO READ] >

@brwnskin-bunnyteeth​: Heartbreak, Shakespeare, and bars. [LINK TO READ] <

🍉Watermelon Sugar

@perksofbeingaharrie​: Harry has resorted to new methods of album writing and Y/N finds out about it just recently. Her reaction and his reaction are nothing either of them expect. [LINK TO READ] > *

@strawberriestyles​: Your relationship with Harry is fairly new, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t use a little extra flavor. [LINK TO READ] > *

😚Adore You

@fromyourstrulyh​: Falling for the new intern wasn’t part of your agenda but Harry, the new intern, caught your eye from the very start. [LINK TO READ] <

@wildcherryhs​: Harry isn’t used to being rejected, especially by his best friend. [LINK TO READ] <

🍒Cherry

@goldencherryharry​: After the incident, Sage fled to Europe to avoid dealing with any of it. Now she’s back and confronted with a reconciliation she’s not ready for. [LINK TO READ] >

@slccpybliss​: After Harry gets his heart broken once again, he swears off love, until Y/n and her dog bring him a delicious gift and their friendship along with it. [LINK TO READ] >

🍂Falling

@always-jackedup​: What do you do when the person you pictured your entire life with, suddenly seems to have fallen out of love with you? [LINK TO READ] <

@harryxmac​: Harry turned in his sheets. They were cold. Agonisingly cold. [LINK TO READ] <

@imagine-that-one-thing​: The one where he appears to be a charismatic but a challenging person to understand in a coffee shop, but one night he lets it all out and lets it wash away. [LINK TO READ] >

👶To Be So Lonely

@honeyedrasp​: (a Happier!Series prequel) The heart is a complex organ. [LINK TO READ] < *

💃She

@freakymedecine​: Daydreams and lost love; a fine line in space and time. [LINK TO READ] <

🌻Sunflower, Vol. 6

@blufirre​: Where Harry is caught up in his lingering emotions about Camille. Hasn’t been inspired to write for his new album and a good friend helps him out of his funk. And maybe is under the influence. [LINK TO READ] >

@stardusthes​: The one where falling in love came easy and natural for them but it was inevitable really. [LINK TO READ] > *

@mellowstyles94​: Harry encounters a beauty that reminds him of sunflowers and the summertime. [LINK TO READ] > *

🌙Canyon Moon

@gucciwins​: Harry receives love letters and Y/N doesn’t love anyone more than she loves Harry. [LINK TO READ] >

📈Fine Line

@wonderrdies​: Boy and girl meet. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl live happily ever after. Except boy is Harry Styles and even when love comes easy, it doesn’t come simple. [LINK TO READ] > *

@swcctstyles​: No one ever really realizes how long a minute could be.  [LINK TO READ] > *

@permanentcross​: (One More Time) Breaking up is hard to do, but getting back together is even harder.... [LINK TO READ] > *

[hunflowers]

Fine Line

Word Count: 5k

Requested? Nope, but you always can here :)

A/N: This fic is for the lovely @hsogolden​ ‘s #FineLineFicChallenge and I’m so happy and honored to be apart of it! It gets a bit angsty up in here, so sorry if it tugs at the heartstrings. And there’s a brief wank so enjoy! *nose boops*

No one ever really realizes how long a minute could be. 

Or an hour. 

Or a day. 

Or a month.

Sometimes it seems like time can fly right by, just in a blink of an eye. But, some other times it seems like every second of every minute of every day can go by agonizingly slow. 

This is what life was like for Harry these past ten months. He had his fast days, where he felt okay and like nothing could ever break him down ever again. But, he also had his slow days, where he felt like staying in bed, unmoving, hiding under the sheets was his only option to move forward and on to the next day. It was an internal battle these past months on how to go about his days. Because sometimes the feeling of wanting to do something and wanting to do nothing blurred together and he was stuck on how to live his life.

And it was all because of her.

His sunshine.

His Y/N.

They met a little over two years ago. A mutual friend’s birthday party and the two got a little too drunk and although nothing crazy happened, they still were attached like glue the entire night. When Harry first spotted her across the room, she had this energy radiating off of her that drew him towards her, that tempted him to walk over to her and find out who exactly she was.

After that night, they exchanged numbers, and from then on they’ve been inseparable. Except for now that is. This ten month gap of disconnection was like starting a whole new life, a whole new reality and Harry hated it. But for that little over a year of dating, you could hardly get one without the other.

To the naked eye, anyone could clearly see that they were in love. It was a love like no other, as cliche as that sounds. Harry always had this feeling that this was it. This is what the universe intended, that she was what the universe intended for him to have. It didn’t matter what else fate had in store, just as long as he had her.

Because they were in love.

Well, he was at least.

About six months into the relationship, Harry dropped the L bomb because it finally felt like time for him to address his truest feelings. When she stared at him in shock and silence he should’ve taken that as the biggest sign, but he knew not everyone was the same and that maybe she just needed a little more time to repeat the three small words.

He knew she loved him. He could tell in the way she looked at him and the way she held him when they were sleeping. Heck, she practically said it without ever really saying it. He figured it was just the word that scared her, but that she did love him back. Harry thought that eventually, Y/N would overcome her fear and she would be able to say it and kill the worrisome thoughts that lingered in the back of his subconscious. 

Seven months later and he got tired of waiting. He thought he knew her and that she loved him just like he loved her. But, every time he said those small words, Y/N just nodded her head in return. Every time he said it, he saw something flash across her eyes, like a flinch reaction as if those words hurt her many times before.

He thought he knew her. He thought he knew everything about her and what made her his Y/N. But, it turns out he didn’t. And the only Y/N he knew completely was the one who made no second guesses into spreading her legs, welcoming him to consume her physically.

He felt used. Like the year and one month of being together really meant nothing at all and she was using him as a distraction from whatever happened in her past. He hated it so much. That year and one month Harry devoted his life to this girl, opening up to her about every little thing that changed him into the person he is, yet she didn’t have the decency to do the same, and deep down he hated her for that.

Now he saw himself as this pathetic guy that fell in love so easily with a girl he hardly even knew and he hated her for that too.

But, the thing he hated most was that he really didn’t hate her. All he felt for her was love and it sucked that it wasn’t reciprocated.

So, on February 9th, he confronted her about it. He just had to know what was going on inside that mind of hers because it was eating away at his soul that he thought* he knew his girl, but it seems he didn’t know her at all.

~

Harry was pacing their apartment for the better half of the last hour. Y/N should be coming home soon from work and he had been nervous to talk to her about this issue all day.

He cowered away a lot, telling himself that he didn’t have to worry about it. But, he knew that he just had to get it done with already, that he had to rip the band aid off eventually. And when he finally heard the keys jingling outside of the front door the nerves in him skyrocketed. His breathing picked up and his hands become clammy as this sense of trepidation washed through him. Harry was afraid of what was bound to come and he figured he would be able to shake this soon, but when the front door creaks open and her figure walks through the door, his anxiety meets a whole new level.

Without even so much as a greeting, Harry asked the impending question, ripping that band aid right off.

“Do you love me?”

Y/N’s smile faltered as she stopped in her tracks, letting the door close gently behind her. She tilted her head slightly, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as she watched her boyfriend stand in the living room portion of the open plan apartment, eyes wide with worry and jaw clenched as he tried to hold back his tears.

Placing her bag and keys down softly on the table, Y/N was at a loss of words as he continued to stare her down.

“Harry-”

“It’s a yes or no question, Y/N. Do you love me?”

“It isn’t that easy… I- I don’t-”

“Then make it easy. I told you seven months ago that I love you. Seven months! And this whole time I thought that you just needed some time to say it back because I- I think you love me, but seven months!”

Y/N’s own eyes started to swell with tears as Harry slowly started raising the volume of his voice. She’s seen Harry angry before, but it never had been directed towards her. This time was clearly different as Harry stood in front of her, frustration laced in his features, and anger headed her way. She felt small under his gaze, and Y/N wanted nothing more than to hideaway before this would get out of hand.

“Every time I say it, it looks like you get scared for a split second before basically just shrugging it off. And th-then I realize that there’s something you’re not telling me and then I again realize you’ve hardly ever talked to me. I don’t know you like a proper boyfriend should! I know your favorite color, your favorite movie and your favorite song, but there’s something you’re not telling me about why you don’t love me. And… I can’t put myself in another relationship where I-I’m taken for granted. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I just can’t.” By the end of his speech Y/N could tell he was getting choked up and that hurt Y/N more than anything. 

She wanted to hold him and reveal her deepest and darkest secrets because he deserved to know. He was the proper boyfriend he needed to be. He was everything she wanted and then some. But her past often clouded her judgement and her life and she didn’t know what to tell him or how to tell him, afraid he would run away.

But, it seems to be, doing the complete opposite is what’s driving him away.

Harry observes Y/N, looking for any sign of her finally opening up to him. But, she stood frozen, hands clasped together as tears finally escaped down her cheeks, bottom lip trembling. It seemed like she was fighting some internal battle with herself yet she didn’t say break, just staring back at him.

Harry let out a sigh, hands gripping his hips as his head dropped and his attention was focused on his tattered shoes. All he wanted was something, anything that would indicate this past year and a month wasn’t all a waste. 

But, silence was the only thing that was in the air.

Running his shaky fingers in his hair, Harry looked to Y/N once again, nearly falling to his knees as he saw how heartbroken she was because they both knew what her silence would lead to. He nodded his head in acknowledgment, turning his body away from her and walking to the front door. The spacious apartment suddenly felt really small and Harry just wanted to get out of there.

He heard her follow after him, but she didn’t even call out his name to stop him. He grabbed his own keys from the front table, and quickly patting his pockets for his wallet and phone before he grabbed the handle of the door. Y/N reached out, putting her hand over his, hoping he would stop and let her gather her thoughts and finally speak to him.

She knew it wouldn’t happen, but she hoped.

He looked down to their hands before looking back at her face one last time, speaking one last sentence that tore Y/N apart down to her core.

“I thought you were different.”

~

The last ten months were brutal. Technically it was because of him that timed moved slow, but he knew in the long-run that staying in that relationship would’ve drained him more. He hated thinking that being with Y/N would drain him because he did- does love her more than he can comprehend, but he couldn’t help but feel less exhausted from the loss all of his worrying and stress of being in a relationship.

Except, last night that pit of anxiety resurfaced when he saw her face for the first time in ten months. He couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not because maybe he didn’t want to see her face again or maybe the feeling in his gut was butterflies at the sight of her face again. It was a fine line between the two.

They were attending the same mutual friend’s party, like when they first met two years ago. It was as if it were fate trying to remind them Hey, remember when you met the love of your life in this exact room exactly two years ago, and now everything’s fucked up?

Harry’s jaw clenched as he tried not to break down right there, and he quickly knocked back the rest of his drink he had been sipping the whole night. He wasn’t in the particular mood to let loose the entire time, but now, he felt getting wasted was going to be the only way he wouldn’t think about her.

Although, drinking would most likely make him think of her more. But, he still got the drinks in.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, just like when he first saw her. She lit up the room the moment she walked in, her usual sunshine radiating off of her as she bounced around from person to person, indulging in conversations with everyone that wasn’t him. He knew she wouldn’t talk to him because he can only imagine the pain he put her through when he walked out, but something inside wished she would at least glance in his direction. Maybe something so minuscule would give him the closure he needed to move on with his life.

Harry got more than what he asked for though when he was in a conversation with the said mutual friend, Jason, and Y/N came bounding over, practically a skip in her step. Mid sentence, Harry stopped talking when Y/N embraced Jason, wishing him a happy birthday. When they separated, Y/N’s eyes met Harry’s, and to Harry it felt like time stopped completely.

“Hi, H.” The two syllables that fell from her delicate lips sent shivers down Harry’s spine, and he didn’t know how to respond. The easy way clearly would be to just say Hello. Curt and straight to the point and simple enough to hide the quiver in his voice. 

But, he was an idiot and he didn’t say anything. He pursed his lips, fingers gripping the glass he was holding in a tight hold, as his mind swarmed with memories revolving around this angelic woman. She sent him a small smile before walking past him, gently patting his shoulder as she greeted the next person she laid her eyes on.

Once she was out of his sight, Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, looking to Jason and quickly regretted it as Jason gave him a weird look. “Dude, what was that?”

Harry shook his head and shrugged exasperatedly, trying to think of an answer for himself. “I have no idea.”

Silence dawned over them despite the fact that there were plenty of people chatting amongst them and music echoing around the house. Harry looked to his feet, slowly closing his eyes in disappointment, wallowing in self-pity as he’s thinking of all of the things he should’ve done or said in those few seconds because he was sure he would never get the moment again. 

“Listen,” Jason spoke up, gaining Harry’s attention, “these past however many months, Y/N’s been… working through a lot of shit. I think it would mean a lot to her if you talk to her and I think it’d do both of you some good to talk. She hadn’t told me directly what’s been going on but I’ve heard stories and… it’s a lot. Go talk to her.”

Jason grabbed Harry’s shoulders, turning his body in the direction of his ex-girlfriend. And in that moment Y/N started laughing at whatever this girl said, eyes crinkling, eyebrows scrunching, and dimple forming as the biggest smile beamed on her face. Harry determined that feeling in his stomach to be those butterflies as he stood completely entranced by her and her heavenly laugh.

He took a deep breath and made his way over to her, trying his hardest to not make a fool of himself like tripping over random furniture. When he got closer, Y/N could see him through her peripheral, and for a moment, she wanted to break down.

These ten months were hard for Harry. But, it didn’t compare to how rough it had been for Y/N.

Walking in to the party, immediately her eyes had locked on to Harry’s figure and it took everything in her to not walk right out. Seeing his face was hard, considering the last time she saw it, she felt anger and sadness all in one. She couldn’t forget the fact that he left her and it was fucking rough to see him again. She was surprised at herself for greeting him like she did, because the rational part of her wanted to ignore his existence for the whole time they were there. But, she supposed her subconscious and the also giddy feeling of seeing Harry again took over.

When he stepped next to her and her friend, she tried her hardest to keep her composure, looking up at him through her lashes. Y/N’s friend got the message immediately, walking away once she sensed the tension between the two.

“Hello, Y/N.”

Y/N bit her lip, bringing her arms up to her chest and crossing them, feeling exceptionally small stood next to him. She waited for him to say something else, not having it in her to start up a conversation. Despite being in a year long relationship, this ten month separation made it as though they were strangers meeting for the first time.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair, which it seems had been cut since the last time she saw him. Little curls started developing at the ends of his hair, and if they were together, Y/N would be drooling at the sight and running her own hands through the soft brunette hair.

“Can we talk?” He questioned, gesturing outside to the back patio that overlooked the vibrant pool in the backyard.

Y/N huffed, glancing down to her shoes and softly kicking her foot up, shaking her head mildly before looking back up at him, a small scowl on her face. “No.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he really wasn’t all that surprised. He knew this would be a long shot, but he would hate himself more if he didn’t at least try. He nodded his head slowly in acknowledgement, not wanting to dwell on this any longer and turning around to walk away.

“How’s tomorrow?” Y/N said softly. Harry whipped back around, now really surprised at this. He almost didn’t hear her because of the speaker that happened to be right next to them, but it was as if his ears were in tune to her voice, hardly ever missing anything she said.

“Uh- yeah… Tomorrow works for me. Tomorrow’s good,” Harry rambled, not able to stop nodding his head. 

These nerves suddenly shot through him at the prospect of sitting down and finally getting to talk to Y/N. But, he couldn’t deny how happy he was either. When he turned around to walk away, he couldn’t help the small smile that etched onto his face.

And because of the thought of seeing her again, she was all he could think about for the rest of the night. Whilst still at the party, even though they stayed out of each other’s ways, Harry couldn’t help but look in her direction every so often, admiring her, now no shame in his body.

He felt he was going crazy, but he again didn’t have any shame. Not when it came to her.

He especially didn’t have any shame later on, when he was alone in his apartment, moonlight cascading into his dark room being his only source to see anything in front of him. He hastily pushed his jeans down his thighs, falling backwards onto his bed, his back flopping onto the soft surface of his mattress as his hand crawled down his abdomen and into his red briefs.

Harry tried to pleasure himself the way Y/N used to, inching her fingers down his navel until they grazed over his pubic hair, the tips of her fingers gently touching his length before her dainty hand would fully encompass his girth.

Small whimpers began to move past his lips as he continued to imagine Y/N was doing this and not him, but again, he had no shame. But, perhaps that was the alcohol running through him.

That was a lie. It wasn’t his first time picturing Y/N when wanking, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last either. 

Feeling extremely restricted, Harry hooked his fingers into his briefs, pushing those and his jeans fully off his body and then grabbing the edge of his shirt and pulling it over his head, all in three seconds flat. 

His cock slapped his stomach and he hissed at the sensitive feeling of the cool air hitting him, contrasting the heat he felt inside his body. Again wrapping his hand around his girth, he slowly jerked himself, spreading the precum that leaked from his tip down his head. He pictured Y/N hovering over him, giving him soft eyes as she worked her hand quicker, then putting him inside her warm mouth, running her tongue over his tip, lightly sucking him deeper into her mouth, eventually getting him to graze the back of her throat.

The idea had Harry a squirming mess, hips thrusting into his fist, his other hand tugging on the roots of his curls as his moans increased in volume. 

He should have an ounce of shame running through his body. But he doesn’t. And at that moment, as the familiar feeling of his balls tightening courses through him, he definitely didn’t.

Harry also finishes a lot quicker than normal, so he should feel shame. 

But he doesn’t.

❊ ❊

They met at a diner the next day. Sort of a brunch ordeal.

Harry got there first, which wasn’t surprising at all. Y/N tended to be late for everything and anything, sometimes even for work.

The waitress came over a total of three times asking if his plus one would be there soon or if he just wanted to order already. He denied every time, sipping on his coffee, glancing between his phone and the door every few seconds.

About fifteen minutes had gone past their original time and Harry slowly started losing hope. He didn’t want to lose hope, but even this was beginning to get too late for Y/N and he figured she just didn’t have the guts to tell him she was backing out.

Just when he goes to put his jacket on, he hears the bell chime over the door sound once again and he looks up to see if it were actually her this time. 

It was.

She looked out of breath as her hair was all askew from the wind outside. He saw her eyes dart around the room before finally landing on him, more towards the back. 

Watching her take a deep breath, she held eye contact with him as a tiny smile planted on her face and she quickly walked over to his table.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushed, plopping down onto the chair across from Harry. “I managed to oversleep past my alarm. I know I look like a wreck but I literally woke up ten minutes ago before I drove like a maniac to get here, so keep your comments to yourself. Also, I forgot my phone in my rush to get ready and... I forgot my wallet… But! I will pay you back I promise. I’m literally such a mess right now.”

Watching her ramble on and on had Harry feel like nothing has changed between them. She was a talker, Y/N, hardly ever keeping her mouth shut, and that was one of the reasons Harry adored her so much. But, the reason they are where they are is because she just didn’t talk about anything important.

“Don’t worry about it. I was gonna push to pay later anyway,” Harry shrugged, taking the final sip of his coffee before his cup was empty.

Y/N gave him an unimpressed look, before rolling her eyes and opening up her menu. The waitress came over now for the fourth time, a smile on her face as she saw Harry was finally accompanied by someone before jotting down their orders and walking away.

Harry and Y/N attempted to make small talk but when that didn’t really work out for them, the tension around them slowly started to strengthen, which was weird for them. But, neither of them had any idea of how to go about this. 

Y/N fidgeted with the ends of her hair before sitting up straight in her seat, hands slapping down against the table, panicking Harry as she gave him her dirtiest glare. “I’m gonna rip the band aid off, and start this off with a fuck you.”

“What–”

“Look, I know what I did wrong, I didn’t… talk to you like a girlfriend should do with their boyfriend, and I get that you must’ve been frustrated with me. I get why you left. But, you didn’t even try to hear me out–”

“Y/N–”

“Do not! Interrupt me, I’m on a roll. Harry you made me feel like that year was completely wasted because I was going to talk I just… needed to do it on my terms. Not yours. So, fuck you.”

Harry was stunned to stay the least at her sudden outburst. He must’ve looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of what to say back, and then he snapped back.

“How was I supposed to know you were gonna talk? You didn’t talk to me so how was I supposed to know? I get how I left was shitty but… I couldn’t stand by anymore and feel like you were using* me–”

“I wasn’t–”

“Hey! I don’t interrupt you, you don’t interrupt me. I told you I love you and seven months after that I still got nothing. It honestly felt like talking to a brick wall and I couldn’t do that to myself anymore. I’m sorry but it’s true.”

It was Y/N’s turn to go mute, processing his words through her mind as rapidly as possible, all while trying not to break down in this small diner, a few people around them already staring at them.

Y/N blinked away the tears threatening to spill, biting at her bottom lip, trying to gain her composure a little bit before she finally gets to talking and answering the many questions he has. 

“I– Please, don’t think I didn’t love you. I did– do? I don’t really know right now but I fully did then. I knew I loved you about three weeks into the relationship actually because… well in those small three weeks you had proven to be so completely different from my previous relationship and I felt so, so safe being with you.

It’s just, my ex he told me he loved me and I believed him but his love wasn’t… love. It was abuse and I fell for it. I put my heart and soul into loving him and he spit that back in my face every time he laid a finger on me in the wrong way or when he said something so awful.” Y/N took a shaky breath in, eyes falling to the metal table between them, not having the confidence to look Harry in the eye anymore.

“W-when you told me, I wanted to scream it back in your face, but my mind held me back because I managed to convince myself that no one was going to properly love me like I-I deserved and all I deserved was the pain my ex put me through. I was so scared you were going to take advantage of my love like he did so I never had the courage to tell you. And – And I’m so sorry Harry.”

Taking her hands into his own, Harry could feel the way her body was slightly shaking and his broken heart almost shattered into millions of little pieces at the sight. “Y/N… you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m sorry I was an ignorant prick.”

“No, no, you didn’t know because I didn’t want you to know. You don’t have to say sorry. I’m saying sorry because even though I felt so safe with you, at the same time I didn’t feel safe enough to want to tell you anything. I’m sorry I put you through that pain and for not telling you and making you think I was using you.

I went to therapy for a while, really figured my shit out and put my ex behind me and learned to love myself again. My therapist she’s… she’s an angel; she really knew how to put me back together.”

Harry gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, using his other hand to wipe away the tears that began to cascade down her cheeks. Without realizing, Y/N leaned her cheek further into his touch, relishing in the familiar feeling of his comfort.

Y/N definitely was different from ten months ago, and he could tell that therapy had worked wonders for her. It was one thing to open up to him, but the way she was so comfortable in doing so, not worrying about what he was thinking at all made Harry feel at ease.

It was clear he was still so in love with her, it made him sick. He can’t tell if he’d ever stop loving her.

Sniffling a little, Y/N retracted her head from his touch, eyes boring into his once again, and this time felt different. This time they weren’t strangers who hardly knew one another.

They were Harry and Y/N again.

“I didn’t mean to start this off so aggressively, by the way. I take back my fuck you’s and I’m replacing them with thank you. If it weren’t for you leaving my ass, I don’t– I don’t think I’d ever get better, or become the person I know I should be. Thank you, Harry,” Y/N spoke softly but sincerely, now giving his hand that was still connected to hers a small squeeze.

Harry shook his head, countering her statement, “There’s literally no reason to thank me. You can say fuck you, I can handle it. I’m a big boy. All of that. . . bettering yourself is because of you not me. I’m just happy you’re happy. It’s always been a good look on you.”

Y/N laughed slightly, shrugging her shoulders while feeling a slight twinge of heat dance across her cheeks.

Soon their food was placed in front of them, and they both looked like they could eat for an entire village. All negativity was washed away, all tension was thrown out the window, and there was nothing in the air but love as they laughed over stupid shit, shoveling food into their mouths.

Both of them could tell deep down, that despite their past, they were gonna be okay.

They’ll be alright.

[gucciwins]

Canyon Moon

Harry receives love letters and Y/N doesn’t love anyone more than she loves Harry.

Word count: 5685

A/N: I started this story three different times and the other two are sitting in my drafts unfinished. I had a vision for this and then as I was writing it would die. I was in a deep hole but I have made it out. Canyon Moon is special and I love her so much. Everyone give her some love, she is underappreciated. Thank you to @hsogolden​ for allowing me to partake in the #FineLineFicChallenge I love this story and I hope you do as well. 

Please let me know your thoughts

Hope you enjoy! xx

The sun was shining, and the neighbor’s kids Alex and Max were laughing as they rolled around in the grass together. Harry smiled, looking over at them as he made his way to his car. 

“Good morning Mr. Styles.”  

Harry turns around as he was opening his car door and as he hears someone approach and greet him. It's the mailman, Greg. He’s an older gentleman with a big friendly smile and kind brown eyes. 

“Morning, Greg,” Harry responds cheerfully. “How’s Irene, has she got the roses planted?”

“Oh, she’s doing well. She has a bit of a cough, but nothing a chamomile tea won’t heal. Our son came by and helped her. They are looking beautiful.” His smile is so bright.

“I’ve only got one piece of mail for you today; it seems,” Greg says, reminding Harry of the original reason for his visit. “Seems it came a long way.” 

At those few words, Harry’s green eyes light up. Greg knows it’s one full of love. Harry is given the letter but doesn’t look down at it until he bids Greg goodbye, and he’s sat in his car. 

Harry is quick to open the letter, not bothering to see who it’s from because he knows only one person that loves sending him letters. As he slips the letter out of the envelope, a picture falls on his lap. He doesn’t think twice and picks it up, turning it around. Harry smiles at the photo of a woman with her arms spread open wide sunflowers standing tall and beautiful behind her. That’s not the most beautiful thing in the picture, no it’s the smiling woman that makes Harry’s world turn. 

His lady is in Amsterdam; more specifically, she is at the Van Gogh Museum surrounded by sunflowers that don’t shine as bright as she does. Harry brings the photo to his lips and gives it a quick kiss. 

My darling Harry (I was tempted to say sunflower),

I’m in Amsterdam! It’s beautiful, and I am taking many pictures, don’t you worry. The camera you gifted me is helping tremendously; I didn’t realize how lousy my last one was. You always know best. I’m thankful for you, still. Why am I in Amsterdam, you are asking. Well, I’m here to write about the famous Van Gogh and the masterpieces he created because this will be going up on his birthday, but you already know that because you read all my writing. My biggest fan. I miss you. I know it’s my job, but it’s not easy missing you. I found this bakery it was amazing but nothing compared to you. If anything, it made me want to jump on a plane and have you bake me one of everything. Missing those famous cinnamon cookies right now. 

The sunflowers had me reminiscing. Do you remember our first date? I went to pick you up in my old beat-up car named Betty. I remember being nervous, walking up to your front door. I kept repeating in my head don’t trip as I was walking up the stairs. I knocked twice before I heard a loud thump, and you yell shit. It honestly calmed my nerves. Then they all came back when you opened the door and stood in front of me wearing a cashmere solar system sweater with black pants and beautiful boots. You looked out of this world (tell me you’re laughing reading that). Then you started turning red because you looked me up and down and saw me in black sweatpants and an old over sized red Malibu crew neck with beat-up old skool vans. “I’m pretty sure I told you to dress down because we were going to be painting.” Then you responded, “uhh...you make me nervous. I changed my outfit five times and forgot you told me how to dress.”

At that moment, I wanted to reach up to kiss you, but I felt that would have scared you off (I was wrong). Then I remembered I had something in my hand and immediately thrust my hand forward. I shoved sunflowers in your face, and your response was to hug me because no one had ever bought you flowers. We then proceeded to enjoy a fun painting date on the beach. You pointed out my moon in my painting of the ocean instead of the sun. You didn’t question it; you just told me it was beautiful. I know you remember all of this (at least I hope you do). I just miss you. It’s lonely, but I love my job. Remember, I love you more. I love you more than the moon loves coming out at night. I’ll be home soon, darling.

Love Y/N,

Your fiance xx

Harry smiled down at the letter and wiped his tears. These love letters kept him going and, for some reason, made your love even stronger. It was the best first date he had ever gone on. He knew at the end of the date that Y/N was the one for him. 

Harry is ready to go to work but has to let his lady know he received her letter. 

Amsterdam letter was a sweet treat this morning, won’t even need to have my morning danish. 

Well, I’m glad it made it to you safely. 

I do need you to eat a treat in my name. I’m missing out. 

I’ll have a scone in your honor. 

That’s a beautiful picture you sent. I can’t believe you were hiding that from me. 

Got to keep you on your toes ;)

I’m going to bed. I have an early flight tomorrow

Safe travels, my love. 

Thank you. I love you xx

I love you xx

Harry tucked his phone away and felt his heart tightening in his chest. He lets out a deep breath, knowing he needs to relax. Harry just misses her. It’s hard; her job keeps her away, but the good thing is Harry’s bakery keeps him busy. 

“Morning, boss, man!” Sarah greeted him as soon as he walked through the back door.

“Hello Sarah, what’s on the agenda today?”

Sarah picks up the paper in front of her and looks it over quickly. “Kevin’s dinosaur birthday cake. It’s a red velvet cake.” 

Harry nods. “I got it. Who’s mending the front today?” 

“Jimmy and Tam.” 

“Will you head out front during lunch rush?” Harry asks, knowing how busy they get because of their croissant special. 

“Of course.” 

Sarah looks over at Harry, who has a smile on his face as he hums along to the song playing from the speakers. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” Sarah finally asks.

Harry grins, not being able to stop himself from sharing. “I got a letter from my lady today, that’s all.” He says, trying to shrug it off. 

“You get those all the time!” She exclaims. “This was different, tell me why.”

 Harry stops gathering his ingredients and looks over at Sarah. “She retold the story of our first date. Told me little details I didn’t know.” He smiles, thinking back to the letter sitting in his car. “Reminded me of how far we’ve come.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet.” Charlotte butts in as she walks in, holding an empty box that she begins to fill with treats. From danishes to chocolate croissants. “Please let Y/N know I miss her and that she should stop eating pastries from all over the world. It hurts my feelings.”

Harry laughs. “I’ll be sure to let her know.” 

With the conversation, dwindling Harry gets to work because he knows he has a busy day ahead of him.

~ ~ ~

It's a Monday morning when Harry receives another letter. 

Harry rolls out of bed late after staying up, talking to his love for hours. If he had to choose between sleeping and talking to Y/N, then sleep be damned. She's met up with a friend from what she's told him. After leaving Paris, she found Alfie and decided to travel together since they happened to be going the same way. It comforted Harry, knowing she had a friend at her side, but he wished it was him instead. 

Harry made his morning tea and warmed himself a muffin. He was taking in the quiet of the house, and it reminds him of how much he hates it. He missed when Y/N would play music so loud he thought his eardrums might burst, also missed the smell of slightly over burnt pancakes, but most of all he missed her rolling over in bed and laying her head on his chest and softly tracing his swallow tattoos to wake him up from his sleep gently.  

Harry walks into the kitchen and makes breakfast. He's in the mood for pancakes and a good cup of coffee. As he waits for his coffee to cool a little, he steps outside to collect the mail. A grin spreads across his face as he takes a step inside, abandoning the light bill for the time as something far better has arrived. 

It's a little crumbled but no rips. The letter feels light in his palm but heavy in his heart for the words contained inside. There is an address from Paris under Y/N’s name. 

Hi darling, 

I'm in Paris sitting outside on the balcony and eating my weight in macaroons, and I feel sad. I look out and see how pretty the Eiffel tower shines at night and how you'd love to view it. I'm surprised we have never come to France together. What a shame. You would put the Eiffel Tower to shame with your beauty. Harry, I see the moon standing high and I tell her all my secrets. All the ones I want to say to you. I keep thinking back to a time under the canyon moon. I remember telling you how upset I could never see the stars and their constellations and learned all about them because if I couldn't see them, then at least I wanted to know all about them. Then two weeks later you rent out a big cabin up in the canyon of who knows where and you let me tell you all about the stars. Then you looked at me and said I shined brighter than all of them. All it took for me to say I love you. I'm still not sure if you cried, or it was the reflection on the stars in your eyes, but I swear your green eyes never shined brighter than they did that night under the canyon moon. I'm sorry, I'm not coming home yet, but I hope you know I never forget where my heart is. 

I love you xx 

Love,

Your future wife

Harry smiles down at his pancakes. That date was perfect. It was the one where Harry knew she was the woman he was going to marry. Harry thinks back to how open they both were that weekend together. Once he got back home after dropping her off, although he didn't want to say goodbye but had to because they both had to go to work, he called his mom. The conversation was Harry gushing about Y/N and how she was the one. He also let Anne know that she had a big sweet tooth, which was a big plus in his book. 

Harry wants to call Y/N, but she had let him know she would be busy the next following days but would text him when she could.

 It's moments like these where Harry wishes his love didn't have a job that kept her away. It's selfish of him to ask her to stay and give it up her dream job for him. He'd never forgive himself if she did it. 

Harry has never in his life been so conflicted. He wanted to be selfish, but he couldn't for the sake of her happiness, but what about his?

~ ~ ~

It's been a shitty day. Harry got to work late, and Charlotte wasn't able to come in because she was down with the flu. Sarah had the week off because she was in England attending a cousin's wedding. It was Javier, the newest employee and him against the world today. Harry hates to admit it but he felt everything he baked tasted and looked bad. It was so bad that he handled the register, and Javier was sent to the back and baked the day away. Harry decided to close two hours early because he was beat and he knew for a fact so was Javier. He sent Javier home with a box of pastries and 75% of today's tips that sadly wasn't much either.

Harry knew he needed to let off some steam and decided to go to his gym where he'd do some running, and if his trainer was there, then a bit of boxing as well. To Harry's luck, the gym closed because there happened to be a problem at the front desk that caused the entire gym to lose power. Harry went home upset and in need of cuddles. 

He wanted to talk to his love but honestly had no clue where she was or what time it could be. He hadn't made an effort to speak to her this past week, seeing as they got in an argument, and it was all his fault. He didn't expect it to escalate, but it seemed he had run short that day. 

He currently wasn't making an effort, and Y/N was. He was just acting like a dick because he was stuck in his head wishing he could hug her and apologize. She sent extra pictures of herself, sent more I love you texts. Heck, even Anne called him to let him know that she was getting loads of pictures and was worried about Y/N. Harry knew she was doing that because he wouldn't answer her texts, and she was close to spiraling. He knew today he would send her a long message begging for forgiveness. Then hopefully, she'd tell him a story, and he'd drift off to sleep to the voice of an angel.

Harry arrived home and wanted to head inside but made a stop at his mailbox. He placed the keys in the yellow bowl by the front door. He was about to drop the mail as well when a stamp caught his eye. It was an international stamp of the moon, and Harry knew one person who used those. He didn't bother checking the information and ripped it open.

I'm sorry.

I know when you get this, our fight will be water under the bridge. (this is me being optimistic) I didn't expect us to argue about my job, it's my love, and I worked hard to be where I am. I know it's my fault; it always seems to be my fault. I'm the one making you wait at home alone. I'm the one not offering any support. I might be doing you a favor if I walk away, but I'm selfish I could never let you go. I'd let you leave me, but I'd never push you away. You're my best friend. I know you're hurt but so am I. I promise harry, I'm almost home before you know it you'll want me gone by how much time we spend together and I never let you leave the house. It sounds perfect to me. Do you remember our first big fight? I'm not even sure what we were fighting about, but I was sure you were about to walk away from me, so I did it first. I ran out the door and sat in my car and cried. I didn't even have the power to drive away. (it was also my apartment I ran out of.) You stayed up there crying as well. I think I knew if I turned that car on and left you, it would be the end of us, and I wasn't ready for that. I took a deep breath and marched my way up to my apartment. You sat on the floor with your eyes closed — a picture of us in your lap. I remember taking a deep breath and walking towards you and held my hand out. I thought I had been holding it out for the longest time but was only ten seconds. You grabbed it and pulled yourself up; I remember the cold metal of your rings meeting my hand, and I just wanted to cry, but I also was a woman on a mission. I turned out the door, and you followed, holding my hand tighter. I walked up to the roof, never letting go of your hand. I laid down on the blanket that I had left there, and you followed. We laid their hand in hand for hours until you scooted over and put your head on my chest. I ran my fingers through your hair and just began to tell you all my useless science facts. Slowly we talked it out, and at that moment, I knew I could never let you go. You are the best thing in my life. 

I love you xx 

Sincerely,

A girl in love missing you like crazy

Harry finished reading and found himself against the door. He's so stupid, of course, she'd take the blame. She's excellent at pointing the blame to no one but herself. This was all him and he had been acting like a jerk. She had been looking for reassurance that they'd be fine, heck she believed they'd be alright by now. She believed in them, and Harry didn't believe in himself. 

Harry picked himself up and sat on the couch. He pulled his phone out, and without thinking twice, he clicked the call. It rang and rang and rang until it got to voicemail. He deserved that he felt. He tried again, and after the second ring, he heard a faint hello. 

"Hi, love," He whispers before speaking up. "It's Harry." 

He waited a few seconds and heard no response. "Lovie"

"Sorry, hi. I was sleeping, got out of bed, or I would have fallen back to sleep." She told him like it was normal for him to wake her in the middle of the night. "Are you okay, did something happen?" She panics quickly, knowing it must be a little late there. 

"Everything's fine, nothing to worry about. Well, everything is not fine, and gosh, I'm just frustrated, and it's all my fault." 

"Harry, baby!" She says a bit louder to stop him rambling. "Slow down; I'm not sure what's wrong. Help me understand so I can help you."

"I ignored you for no reason, besides not being able to get over my pride, and you sent me this beautiful letter." Harry takes a deep breath to stop his tears, but it's no use. "You say you're selfish and take all the blame, but we both know it was my fault. I keep pushing you about your job, but you never once said anything about mine, especially when I stay there for hours, perfecting a recipe and standing you up."

"You make it up to me by bringing me sweets" She decides to input, hoping it will get a laugh out of him.

"I'm serious!"

"As am I, Harry." He hears the frustration in her voice. "I've missed too many date nights. You stay home or you state late at the bakery. You don't go out as often with your friends because everyone is always with their partners. It's killing me that you're unhappy."

"Stop," Harry begs, afraid of where this conversation could go.

"Am I selfish, Harry?" She dares to ask. "I want you, but I also want my job, but I fear there might come a time where I might have neither."

"I swear I will always be here. Look down at the ring I gave you." Harry wipes his nose softly. "It's a promise of forever. A forever I only want with you."

She doesn't answer, but Harry knows this is forgiveness. 

"Is this part of our forever?" She questions. 

"It is, a forever, we'll tell our children and grandchildren about."

Harry goes quiet, and so does Y/N. They bask in the quietness and hold on tight to the future they have together.

"I'll be home soon, darling," She promises. "I love you."

"I love you."

~ ~ ~

Harry! Darling!

I just had the best phone call! I am amazed and shocked. Oh, honey, I forgot to mention I’m in Rome. You know how much I love it here. I swear I still want to marry you in Italy. (Please think about it.) I had the pleasure of going to this gallery opening for this artist who’s making his significant return, and it was beautiful. His work, I feel, speaks to you. He’s also very handsome but don’t worry he is also very much taken. (no one ever looks as good as you do) I didn’t get the chance to speak with him because he doesn't like interviews, but I got on well with his girlfriend, who I chatted up because of a painting he did of the night sky in Italy with a big moon and girl looking at it from her balcony. I asked how much, but it’s not for sale. (bummer, think it might be special to them). Darling, I’m coming home. Soon I promise. Before you know it, I'll be running into your arms at the airport, and I won't even care about the PDA. I miss you. Say hi to Sarah and Lottie for me (winky face).

I love you xx

Sincerely,

Your love

Harry laughs out loud in the middle of reading the letter. She says the craziest things, and sometimes he is crazy enough to follow along. Getting married in Italy sounds like a great idea, also a bit impulsive. His mom wouldn’t be opposed, but he knows her parents would be. 

Harry reads it over and is surprised to see that she didn’t address what the phone call was on. I guess he would have to ask her during their next phone call. 

Harry arrives at his bakery and smiles at Sarah, chatting up the regular Mitch. Harry knows she tries her best to get him to crack a smile or laugh at a joke, but he never does. At least to Sarah's knowledge, he doesn’t. Harry has seen him smile down at his drink every time she turns around or walks toward the back. Harry knows it's only a matter of time before Mitch cracks and allows himself to pursue the baker. 

Sarah approaches Harry with a smirk on her face. He looks away and walks away from her. 

“Harry, I haven’t even said anything yet.” She gasps in disbelief.

“You act as if I haven’t known you for years.”

“This has to do with-” Harry is quick to interrupt her.

“Nope, if you talk about her, I won’t get any work done, and it’s about time I go sign some checks.” 

“This is important!” She yells.

“If it’s important, she’ll let me know.” 

Harry shuts his office door and gets to work because this paperwork that was piling up was not going to do itself.

~ ~ ~

I'm going home. 

I'm not sure when you’re receiving this, but I’m waiting for the phone call that follows because this is the first you hear about it. I'm estimating it to be a week from when I sent it so I should be home in two weeks. That’s crazy, just know I'm crying as I think about it because I can’t wait to feel those strong arms wrapped around me. I can't wait to have you naked for the next few days (wow! I really wrote that) I can't wait to visit the bakery and eat everything you’ve been making. I swear if I come home to a bunch of people in our home because you wanted a welcome home party, I will drive myself back to the airport and get on the next flight out of there. I just want you in your birthday suit and the bed (the wall or couch is fine if we don’t make it).

I'm going home. 

Sincerely,

(soon to be) Mrs. Styles 

~ ~ ~

Five days.

Harry has to hold on for five days; then, he’ll get to see his love. 

When Harry got the letter, he stood there in shock, reading it over and over again. Once he read it for the ninth time, he set it down on the kitchen counter and rang the person who was causing him to feel like his heart would beat out of his chest. 

Harry spent the first ten minutes, crying asking Y/N if she was serious. He knew the trip should have been about a whole month longer. The rest of the call was spent each in their separate beds, no clothes, lots of filthy talking, and sweet, beautiful moans that neither of them wanted the moment to end. 

Harry was very distracted at work. He put salt in the flour for cupcakes instead of sugar. Thankfully, Charlotte caught that, or it would have been much worse later. Sarah tried her best to convince him to go home and relax, but Harry knew if he did, he would go crazy. The result being Harry was allowed to knead the dough and do paperwork in his office.  

Today, he would be doing more paperwork because it was necessary when running his own business, he just didn’t believe it when many people told him about it. Harry enjoyed it for some strange reason.

Harry stopped in front of the back door and admired the light blue color he was convinced to paint by no other than Y/N. The hand prints make him smile. His employees put their hands all around. When first painting, he just wanted to add some color to it, but she argued they needed a little more. She grabbed the yellow paint and opened it carefully. She pushed it towards Harry, gesturing him to put his hand in. He does so no questions asked, then she guides it to the middle of the door and puts pressure on it. He pulls away and smiles at his long fingers. Harry grabs her hand gently places a kiss on her knuckles then dips it into the paint. He brings her hand very close to his print and presses it against the door. It’s sweet and loves that Javi, Lottie, Jimmy, Tam and Sarah have theirs on as well, it signifies his family here at his bakery. 

Everything reminds him of her, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Harry enters and finds out he is locked out of his office, which is weird because it locks from the inside. A note slides out from under reading H, head to the place where we first said I love you. Harry knows it’s from her, but why would she send him up there. She is not supposed to be home until five days from now, so what exactly can she be planning; nevertheless, Harry leaves knowing Sarah will take care of the bakery and sets off to the canyon. 

~ ~ ~

Harry makes it to the small cabin he rented for the weekend they spent at the beginning of their relationship. He turned the note over, and it gave him this exact location. The sun is beginning to set, and it paints a beautiful picture one he wishes he could paint if only he were a good artist. 

He walks to the front door and finds another note. It says, Head to where we looked at the stars. He rounds the house and makes his way to the large backyard that has a beautiful ocean and mountain views. From a distance, he makes out a large red blanket surrounded by too many pillows. Harry could dive right on top and have a soft landing. Harry sees a small picnic basket and another note on top. Before he can read it, a song he’s never heard starts to play. It makes him smile because he may not know the song, but Y/N does, although she denies it; he always sees her singing along to these unknown songs.

“How about a picnic.” 

Harry turns around quickly and stares. He looks at her in disbelief. 

She’s here. 

She stands there wearing black sweats, a plain white t-shirt that most likely is his and worn-out white vans. 

Harry’s green eyes scanned her up and down his mind not believing she was there. Harry is quick to notice he’s crying when he blinks and feels water run down his chin. 

“I was hoping for a hug or a kiss, but staring is also acceptable.” Y/N jokes. 

Harry breaks out of his trance and runs up to her. He cups her face gently with both hands and holds her close. It’s pleasant and calming, finally being together after being apart. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it just as quickly. Instead, he leans down and connects his lips with hers.

It’s two missing puzzle pieces coming together to become one. 

“I love this welcome!” She says with a massive smile on her face. 

“You’re here.” His first words to you. “Five days early.” 

“Well...I’m right on time. My letter arrived to you a week later than I expected. You were excited and told me you were counting down the days and booked the whole week for us. I couldn’t crush your excitement even if it were to tell you I’d be home sooner.” She explains. 

“I’m very much surprised, but I don’t have the week off.” He pouts. 

“You do!” She assures him. “I went in this morning and worked everything out with Sarah. She’s got a soft spot for me. No one seemed to mind you’d be away for two weeks. Said it would be good for you.” 

“You’re sneaky” He laughs. “I love it.” He kisses her cheeks repeatedly.

She gasps and slaps his shoulder lightly. “Why did I have to find out with Lottie that Mitch and Sarah are finally dating?” 

Harry stares at her, confused. “Catch me up; last; I knew he was still pining for her from afar.” 

She shakes her head, no. “No, they looked really cozy this morning like a long hug and a kiss on the cheek.” Y/N sighs dramatically. “I wish I had a chance to ask her, but that can wait.”

Y/N pulled away from the embrace and walked towards the blanket. “Come on, darling.” She looks at him from over her shoulder. “I’ve got lots of kisses to make up for.”

Harry hums in agreement. “Something else you need to make up for that requires little to no clothing.”

Y/N laughs and squeezes the hand she’s holding. “All in good time.” 

Harry lays down first and sighs over how comfortable it is. Y/N is quick to follow, and Harry pulls her close and gently rests her head on his chest.

“When I arrived here, I thought you were going to have me stay here for the next few days alone until someone would arrive and murder me.” Harry shares with a small laugh.

“A bit dark, my darling.” She shakes her head at his thoughts. “I was thinking of having you arrive, and the whole thing would have been filled with guests and food for our wedding, and you’d have to marry me instead of waiting until autumn of this year, but I thought it would give you a heart attack.”

Harry’s heart starts beating faster. “You would have married me today,” Harry states, confusion in his voice. 

“Today, tomorrow, yesterday. I’m ready to become your wife.” She sits up. “I’m ready to settle down, finally get that cat or dog that we’ve been dying to get.” She looks up to the stars and smiles. “It’s time we really focus on us and move forward.”

“We’ve always been moving forward.” Harry is sitting up now, confused, and concerned. 

Y/N moves and sits on his lap. She cups his face gently and smiles at the beautiful face she had to look at from a phone screen for too long. 

“We’d stop moving when I’d go away to travel and do my writing. It might not have felt like it, but it truly did. We’d have movie dates through a computer screen, and it’s not the same as being together cuddled on our couch because I can’t hear your slow chewing so you don’t miss something important or when I give you massages because the bakery has been crazy. We-I deprived us of the little things in our relationship, so I felt it was right. I took our future back into our hands and we can move forward together.” Y/N grabs his left hand and strokes his ring finger where one specific ring should be. “I’m done traveling. I got a new job. I’m starting this autumn. I promise the only traveling I will do is with you by my side.”

“You quit traveling and being a journalist for me.” 

“I mean yeah, Professor Styles has a nice ring to it, don’t you think.” Y/N is laughing at how in shock Harry is. “Did you think I would spend the rest of my life traveling?”

He nods his head and hugs you tight. 

“My darling, my place in this world is right next to you.” 

He grabs her chin and guides her face to his. “I love you,” he whispers against her lips, before closing the distance between them and giving her a soft kiss. 

Y/N and Harry didn’t expect to make it work when they first got together because they were on two different paths, but through the guidance of the canyon moon, together they would go on to live a life full of joy, laughter and the driving force of it all, love. 

 ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading! Come talk to me about Canyon Moon here

Happy Birthday Harry  🌙

[sunflowerstache]

Falling

What do you do when the person you pictured your entire life with, suddenly seems to have fallen out of love with you?

Word Count: 2.4k A/N: This is a piece for the wonderfully amazing beautiful @hsogolden​ Fine Line Fic Challenge! Thank you so much for putting this together Bri, it’s been so fun to read different interpretations of the songs! This one shot takes place in my Another World universe (you can find the fit here!) And this will be part 1/2 So I promise there will be a continuation of this hahaha but yeah I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

~~~

When you’re in the thick of it, surrounded by people chanting your name and screaming back the emotions you’d spent hours - months even - trying to perfectly articulate, making a name for yourself seems like the most important part of life. When you’re standing on a stage, in front of thousands of people who spend their hard earned money just to hear your deepest thoughts and watch you pretend to know how to dance, it awakens something inside you, makes you feel like you were born to entertain. That all the sleepless nights crying over failed attempts and constant rejections were finally worth it once you got to watch your art touch the lives of others. You hear children all over the world talk about it; aspiring to be famous when they grew up. Especially in today’s world where at the click of a button, the lives of any celebrity was at your fingertips.

But when you finally decide to take that plunge and reach for the stars, no one warns you quiet enough of the darkness fame holds. Because sure, people all over the world hold your art close to their hearts and you get awards and your fans love every part of you, but they also criticize, put down, and invade your entire life. No longer are you able to be a person who interests and hobbies; instead, you must fit into whatever size box the world has built for you. You can’t say certain things, wear certain clothes, or be seen with certain people. Because that’s how you end up on the cover of People Magazine with the whole world questioning your personal life.

The photo angirly stared up at you from the coffee table, nearly burning a whole in the side of your face while you avidly tried to avoid looking at it any longer. His familiar glazed over eyes, eyes that you had been on the receiving end of dozens of times, had taken up tracing the patterns of someone else’s cheeks, his fingers learning the curves of her back while they climbed into the dark car. Long gone were the perfectly manicured curls you had given him in the shared bathroom of your home, and instead in their place, the locks you had grown to love over the years, were flowing every which way, from her hands no doubt. If you were in a cartoon, the miniscule moment in time, captured and frozen, would have broken the short table as soon as you placed it down, the weight behind the click of a camera.

“Seems like not even their History together could keep ex 1D members turned lovers Harry Styles and Y/N L/N together. Harry was spotted outside ‘San Vicente Bungalows’ with a mystery woman… who wasn’t his longtime girlfriend and mother of their child, Isabella age 3. Trouble in paradise?”

These were the moments you wished someone had warned you about all those years ago when deciding this was the career path you wanted. You wished someone had sat you down and prepared you for the heartbreak of seeing your personal life being exploited for a quick buck. Sure, you had seen it happen to countless celebrities, but when it’s not happening to you, it doesn’t seem like a real thing that hurts the parties involved. Because if the rumors were true, then they ruin a relationship, and if they aren’t true, then those involved have to overcome the public scrutinizing their decision to stay together.

And Harry had never given you a reason to think this would happen. From the moment you met him, it wasn’t hard to see just how wonderful of a man he was. The morals he lives by and the levels of kindness he tries to spread to everyone he comes in contact with. He was more than anything you ever thought you’d end up with, and the best father to your daughter that even your wildest dreams couldn’t conjure up. But sometimes, things happen, and you can’t control them.

You thought you had prepared enough, but the second the front door opened, the feeling in your fingertips began to fade away. Every word you had strung together in your mind to help you calmly talk your boyfriend, had fizzled into nothing, and you were left with nothing but panic. This had never happened to the two of you before, and figuring out how to navigate this conversation without coming off as accusatory was nearing impossible.

“Hey baby! Sorry, I know I know I said I’d be back like an hour ago, but God, you wouldn’t believe the traffic right now! I stopped by that bakery to make it up to you though, you know, the one with the deluxe muffin things you both love?”

Not once, in all four years of your relationship, had the sound of Harry’s voice made a shiver run up your back in anything less than a pleasurable way. But sitting on the sofa while listening to him move around your kitchen, it only made you want to be sick - and you didn’t know if it was because you truly believed what was in front of you, or because you were so nervous to ask about it.

“Where’s B anyway? Usually runs right up when I open the door.” he laughed.

“With Steph.”

“Oh shit, yeah today was their Universal day, right? Surprised we haven’t gotten any videos yet.”

“Hmm.”

You knew it was only a matter of time before he started questioning your responses. Typically when he got home, both you and Bella wouldn’t leave him alone, hounding him with kisses and remarks about your day to try and make him jealous of what he missed out on. So, you sitting and not giving him much of anything was bound to raise some suspicions.

“You alright, love? Quiet today.”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Just sound like you’re a little down. We can stay in tonight, just cuddle and watch-”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know why his words got cut off. The coffee table was in his direct line of view as he made his way into the living room and you’d left the magazine right on top of everything, in perfect eyesight of anyone entering the room. He’d come from a day at the studio with Kid, clad in one of his usual recording getups; loose blue jeans and a colorful sweater. His hair was just getting to a point that you dearly missed, the curls just beginning to cover the tips of his ears and a light stubble growing on the very end of his chin. A true look for a recording rock and roll artist. And you wanted to smile at how cozy he looked, to curl up next to him and love on him while you had the house to yourselves, but when you looked at him, you could only picture her.

“Y/N….”

“Did you sleep with her?”

You never meant for the conversation to start like that. You wanted to ease into it and remind him that you love and trust him, but the little part inside of you, the part of the girl who had been so hurt in past relationships and worried everything perfect you currently had would soon come crumbling down, thought otherwise. The words left your lips so quickly you didn’t even have time to second guess them. But it was almost like he wasn’t surprised by your questions at all. Instead, his shoulders sagged and his attention left you and focused on the floor while he walked to sit in front of you.

But he didn’t respond.

He didn’t even look up from his lap. He just fiddled with his fingers, intertwined and resting on his knees, knees that were brushing up against your own due to the close proximity of your bodies. The lack of eye contact was enough to lead you in the direction you never thought you’d have to think about.

“Harry. Did you sleep with her?” long gone was your quiet question, instead the loud sob of a plea left your lips.

“I - I don’t know.”

Never in a million years did you ever expect to have heard those words fall from Harry’s mouth. He was someone you trusted with every bone in your body and was the only person you could ever imagine a true future with. The person you looked forward to telling all about your day, who you would rather soak in a bath with than go to red carpets or galas. He was your person, yet here he was, demolishing every ounce of confidence you had in your relationship.

“...you don’t….know?”

“I - no.” he sighed, finally looking up at your eyes. “I was out with the guys and we had a lot to drink, we thought we finished the album, and were celebrating. I just - I didn’t stop when I knew I should have and - and I don’t remember the rest of the night.”

“When was this?”

“Beginning of the summer. After we got here from London.”

Rage replaced any former sadness when you heard his words. “That was three weeks ago Harry!”

“I know.” he was acting like a sad puppy with his tail between his legs. If it were any other circumstance, you’d be trying to comfort him and make the painful sadness in his voice go away, but you could only focus on how angry you were at him.

“Three weeks! What, were you just not going to ever tell me? Just pretend it didn’t happen and let me go on thinking everything was fucking fine and dandy?” he’d never seen you this angry, and being on the receiving end of it was sure to be disturbing, but how else were you supposed to act after hearing the love of you life potentially slept with someone else?

“No! No, obviously I wasn’t going to keep it from you but -”

“Obviously nothing, Harry! I had to find out that you slept with someone on a bloody magazine cover!”

“I didn’t sleep with her!”

“You don’t know if you slept with her! There’s a huge difference, Harry!”

How someone could even begin to rationalize what he potentially did was beyond you. You couldn’t fathom spending so long with someone and throwing it all away because of one night out with your friends. How you could disregard not only someone you claimed to love, but also the precious little girl that was created out of the love you shared.

“Five years, Harry. We’ve been together for five years, did that mean nothing to you? Did all the time we spent together mean nothing? The things we’ve seen together and secrets we shar-” you hadn’t cried so hard in a long time, but there was no use trying to bottle it all in. He deserved to see what his choice had done to you, and by the way his head was being cradled in his hands, you knew it was hitting him.

“Maybe that’s just it! We’ve been together since we were eighteen, Y/N! Maybe I’m fucking bored!”

When you woke up that morning, the thought of having to deal with the tabloids wasn’t something you even remotely thought would happen, but you could get through it, you always did. For years, they tore you and the band down, picked apart every decision you ever made and spread blatant lies, but you always got through it. You could get through it because you knew everything was a lie and you had the people you cared about most on your side.

This time, you didn’t even have that.

How were you supposed to combat the media and their hateful words, when the person in question was basically admitting they had fallen out of love with you. That every minute of the last five years meant nothing because they were now bored. Over all the intimate moments you shared and words you can’t take back. That pretty much signified the end, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The shock of what he said must have come crashing down on him, because instantly, he was trying to move closer to you, to grab your hands and make you look at his pleading eyes.

“No! No no no no, listen to me, Y/N, that wasn’t -”

But you couldn’t listen anymore. You’d had your heartbroken more times in the last twenty minutes than you had in years, and you couldn’t handle anymore. It was a feeling you had promised yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t put yourself through again, and even if the person before you was the man you had given your entire heart and soul to, you wouldn’t wait around for him to feel the same thing.

So, you pushed his hands away.

You pushed away all of his own emotions, all of his pleading for you to come back and listen to him, and you walked away. If being in the public eye for so long had taught it anything, it was that you deserved more than what was given to you at times. Just because everyone around the world seemed to think they had a say in your life choices, doesn’t mean you should disregard what you know is best for yourself. And standing here, listening to the man you loved more than anything, say that he may have fallen out of love with you, wasn’t the best for you.

“Baby please, I’m sorry! You know I didn’t mean that.” the tears on his face were apparent even without turning around, the thickness of his voice doing enough explanation on its own.

“Do I, Harry?” you whispered, turning around so bleary eyes could meet. “Because I thought I knew everything about you, but I never thought we’d end up here.”

Without saying a word, you wiped your cheeks and made the decision to put yourself first. If you stayed any longer, more words that couldn’t be taken back would be said, only burying you deeper and deeper in a whole neither of you wanted to be a part of. You’d never been one for walking away when things got tough, because letting things fester always made it worse. However, this was something you needed time away from.

And there was no one to blame but Harry and his wandering hands

[fromyourstrulyh]

Adore You

Summary: Falling for the new intern wasn’t part of your agenda but Harry, the new intern, caught your eye from the very start. 

Word Count: 2.1K

a/n: Helloooooooo!! First off, a massive thank you to Bri @hsogolden​ for letting me be a part of this challenge. This is such a fun project for me to write and I enjoyed it so much! Also, give some love to my betas @oh-honey-styles​ and @youresogolden-h​! They are the sweetest in supporting my story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it! ☺️

You woke up to the continuous shrills of cars honking outside and the usual morning chaos that is rush hour just outside of your apartment. The curtains that shielded you from the world outside of your cozy bubble gently swayed and danced to the slight winter breeze outside. You rubbed your throbbing head and groaned, thinking back to the numerous glasses of wine you had just hours ago. You blinked your eyes open and sat upright before you took in the scene around you. Clothes from the night before were scattered in your room, and pizza boxes were yet to be discarded on your floor. You mentally scolded yourself for not cleaning up last night. You tumbled out of bed and immediately got to your routine: eat breakfast, brush hair and teeth, somehow come up with a decent outfit before you leave for work, which is arguably the worst part of your routine considering that you run into your neighbor, Tommy, daily.

“Morning! How are you doing?” he asks. Great. Time to fake a smile...again.

You respond, “Doing fine, thanks. Going to work as per usual.” You force a smile, hoping he doesn’t see the disappointment because you were so close in avoiding him this morning. An awkward silence loomed over you and Tommy while you felt the air becoming thick from all of the awkward tension, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of that elevator.

You respond, “Doing fine, thanks. Going to work as per usual.” You force a smile, hoping he doesn’t see the disappointment because you were so close in avoiding him this morning. An awkward silence loomed over you and Tommy while you felt the air becoming thick from all of the awkward tension, and you wanted nothing more than to get out of that elevator.

“Ah. I’m er-...running a few errands for the day then I will be free  around 6. Maybe you w-wanna do somethin’ by then?”

Before you can respond, you hear the elevator ding, indicating that it reached the lobby floor of your apartment building. You shout “Sorry! Can’t! Bye!” and bolt out of the elevator and into the morning traffic outside. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in for a long time, relieved at the fact that you don’t work in the same building as your neighbor.

When you arrive at the office, you immediately noticed something off about it. Usually, not many people are at the office so early in the morning when, in this case, you see a huge crowd gathered around the cubicle next to you. 

That’s strange. Why is everyone there so early in the morning? They’re usually not here for another couple of hours; besides, the cubicle hasn’t been used in months since our last employee was fired.

And then it hit you.

Your boss told your company you work at about a new intern coming to the office a couple of weeks ago. He seemed ecstatic to bring them in, which took you back considering that he had never been this excited about a new intern or employee before. You had never heard your boss give so much praise in a new member to the company’s team before. You didn’t pay much attention to it because you didn’t think they were that important, despite you being an intern yourself. You insisted to yourself these interns come and go, so you never gave yourself a reason to give any attention to the new interns. You knew you were expecting another intern...you just didn’t think they were coming in...today.

You slowly walked to your cubicle and towards the crowd. Once your coworkers see you approaching them, one by one they gave way, giving you a clearer view of the cubicle they surrounded. The man who was sitting on the chair of that cubicle beamed as soon as he saw his new cubicle buddy. His brown curls framed his face perfectly (almost too perfectly) and you couldn’t help but notice the shirt he wore for the day: a yellow and white paneled button-down shirt. Hm. How bold. This man thinks he has style though yellow is his color. It’s not something you haven’t seen before but you couldn’t help but look at it just a little longer. Maybe it’s because of the golden cross hanging in the middle of his chest. Maybe it’s because you’re really looking at his chest and the slightest hint of what looks like a swallow peeking from just underneath his shirt. If only he could reveal more of it… No. You just met the guy and you’re being unprofessional! Before anyone could notice your ogling his broad chest, you glanced down at his brown flared trousers and his pair of what seems to be scruffy white Vans. 

You heard someone clear their throat a little and you looked up at the new intern to see that he was looking right back at you, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he was surprised.

“Hi. Name’s Harry. ‘S nice to meet you,” he says while putting his hand out between you guys for a handshake. 

“Y/N,” you mutter while returning the handshake.

A few weeks have passed since you first met Harry and you noticed there was a different vibe lately when you were around him. Every time you were around him, you were (and still are) so hyper focused on how fast your heart beats, your palms go all sweaty, and how you stutter over every word that comes out of your mouth. You never felt that way before about anyone and it all felt new to you. Is this what it’s like to be in love? Oh god it’s like high school all over again with this stupid crush.

You figured the best way to figure out your feelings once and for all was to go to the restaurant just a couple of blocks from your apartment. You invited Harry to test things out. You somehow convinced yourself that you could be around him and not think about him in a way that is considered unprofessional. It’s for the best, you insisted.

Everything was going well so far. Your night with Harry was going so much better than you anticipated until a familiar voice exclaimed...

“Y/N! Hi!” 

Wait. It can’t be.

To your horrifying surprise, you look up to find Tommy walking in your direction. Shit.

You tried to think of ways to avoid interacting with Tommy. Seeing him at your apartment complex is one thing...but this is a completely different story, one that you’re not willing to see how it would end. Not with Harry sitting right next to you. 

You turn to face Harry and you murmur, “Harry, I need you to do me a favor and just follow my lead.”

Before he can take a glimpse at Tommy and form any response, you crash your lips against his. 

And as quick as you initiated it, he was as quick to respond by kissing you just as hard.

Wrapping his arm around your back, he brought you closer to him. And as if you weren’t close enough, you looped your arms around his neck, making sure he doesn’t escape. Your lips passionately danced with his, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be. The feelings you tried to confine for so long came flooding back like a tidal wave.

“Y/N! What are you do- er...oh okay…” you heard before you heard Tommy walking away from your table. When the coast was finally clear, you detached your lips from his, opened your eyes, and unwrapped your arms from his neck, but the two of you remained close to each other.

“I-I’m so so sorry. I- uh...I shouldn’t have done that,” you stammered.

“‘S okay. Actually quite liked it,” he whispered back.

“No, I-I...should’ve asked you first if you were okay with that.”

“Love, it’s alright. Really.”

Love. The way the name just tumbled out of his mouth made it sound like so...so natural, like it belonged to him, only for him to say. It was music to your ears and you only wished him saying love was something you could hear on repeat.

You weren’t sure if it was just the alcohol or because you two were so close, but you were suddenly enchanted by the green with golden specks in his eyes. You thought it reminds you of a lush and green valley you could see from a distance. It is a paradise you didn’t mind getting lost in.

“Eyes...pretty…” you blurted. Your eyes went wide after realizing what you said and you immediately averted his gaze, hoping he doesn’t notice your reddened cheeks. 

Harry smirked with that stupid dimple you love so much popping out. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you really do,” you giggle, “I might be insane for saying this but I get so lost in your eyes. Would you believe it?” You look up at him to see him looking right back, patiently waiting for your attention.

“No. I can’t believe it,” he mutters.

You frown. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been lost in yours. For so long now.”

You look hard for any indication that he’s joking but his softened features in the dim lights of the booth at the restaurant and the sincerity in his voice say otherwise. 

You almost swore you saw Harry quickly glance down at your lips before meeting your eyes again. You couldn’t blink, afraid of missing a mere second of this moment. You felt your hands become clammy and you wiped them down on the jeans you were wearing for the night.

When you finally closed the gap and pressed your lips against his for the second time that night, it was almost as if time slowed down, like the world blurred out of focus because your feelings for him felt so crystal clear. His lips tasted of lime and mint. Anyone else would think it’s a strange mix but you couldn’t help but want more. It’s intoxicating. You couldn’t help but wonder: why does it seem so wrong yet feel so right? You moved impossibly closer to him and you buried one hand into the baby hairs on the nape of his neck and tugged ever so slightly. He moaned in response, the vibrations suddenly awakened your entire body.

You weren’t aware that your eyes were still closed as you were still processing what happened and what you just did, the taste of your strawberry lemonade and the mint from the gum Harry chewed on hours ago was still lingering on your lips. Oh no...what if he didn’t like it? What if it’s not what he wanted?? Fuck...I should’ve made sure he was okay with that first. Fuck. You were afraid he was angered by what you just did but after what felt like an eternity, you finally blinked your eyes open to find a pair of green ones staring right back. Even under the faint lighting in your booth of the restaurant, his pupils were still gleaming. You immediately avoided them, instead focusing on his chest which turned out to be even worse. The button down he wore for the night was almost completely unbuttoned, his broad chest exposed with the intricately drawn butterfly tattoo on his stomach peeking out. You felt his ring-clad fingers cup your jaw and tilt your chin up, making you look into his eyes again. His hand never moved from its place on your jaw, the cold sting of the metal from his rings sent chills up your spine. He moved even closer to you, his lips just barely grazing yours. Glancing down at his lips, you took note of how red and bruised they look from your lipstick that tinted his lips and the kiss you shared moments ago. You felt your heart racing again, the heightened adrenaline from the alcohol running through your veins. The waves of nervousness you always felt were coming back. The next thing he says is barely a whisper...it’s said so softly, so quietly it was as if it was just the two of you, stuck in your own bubble that is now being shared with Harry. His voice was gravelly and raspy, and you felt your body heat up from his tone. It sent shivers up your spine, making you wonder what he has in mind and you knew you were ready for whatever he wanted with you.

“Why don’t we take this back to my place, love?”

[SCREAM WITH ME ABOUT ADORE YOU HERE]

[harryxmac]

Falling

MASTERLIST

i poured my soul into this, and im so proud, hope you like it :):)

in which, its based on Harry’s song, Falling.

Falling

I'm in my bed

And you're not here

Harry turned in his sheets. They were cold. Agonisingly cold. They were once filled with your combined warmth's, creating a sense of home for the both of you. Harry remembers when he’d curl up to you on a cold morning, to hear you whimper and snuggle in closer to him. The cold of what once was your pillow engulfs his face as he breathes in, desperate to find a trace of you, to prove that you were once here. Now he’s met with nothing. Your shampoo no longer lingered, your perfume hadn’t stuck around for the long term. 

He was in a lift the other day, a woman was wearing your perfume. A perfume he had decided was undeniably yours. No one could wear that perfume around him and him not be reminded by you. 

And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands

He’d had too much to drink when your last argument occurred. For a man who barely drank, he sure picked the wrong night to do so. 

“I can’t Harry, this isn’t anything to do with yeh being drunk, I’m just done” 

Harry reaches to touch your arm, to caress it, to gently plea not to walk out the door, not to leave him here, alone and not with you.

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

He didn’t mean to say it. He’d blame it on the dutch courage he had drank that night, but he knew that saying that was one of the worst things to say to you, especially in a moment like this. There was no truth to his words, the only truth from what was said, was the drunken slur.

And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage you left

A bag. Filled to the brim with things he left scattered across your apartment, t-shirts, socks, a charger, his mug, all the things you couldn’t bare to see. Small reminders of the man who had your heart, but no longer truly had it. A spare t-shirt still hung in your wardrobe, just to have one thing of his. Harry can’t bare to touch the bag that sits in his walk in wardrobe. He bets they smell of you. He bets your tears have dampened a shirt or two as you placed them into the bag, he hates the way he made you feel. If he could take it back, oh if he could take it back.

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

You had pieced Harry’s heart back together once. The one person he could rely one. If he was down, or out. You were his rock. He was once the person that knew everything about you. From the day you had at work to your deepest secrets and your most raw emotions. Now, he’s religiously checking your socials, begging for just a bit of information to feel just a little closer to you, but you’re so far. He doesn’t like this him. This ‘what if she's at that coffee place?” him, this ‘I need her more than I need myself’ him.

What if you don't talk about him. What if he’s the boyfriend you want to desperately forget, never to be spoken about. What if the less you talk about him, the more you forget? Will you forget the lazy Sundays shared with coffee and the slow lazy sex, or the walks along the California beaches, dark skinned and bright hair that glistens in the sun’s rays. What if you forget that?

You said you care, and you missed me too

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you

Your note, attached to the bag you had left on his doorstep, was a reply to his own. You did miss him too, and you care, more than should. You heart aches at telling the man who had ever so easily broke  your heart into tiny pieces that you cared and missed him, but you did! Who are you to lie?

You had found his journal when tidying once. Leaving it on the side to give to him later, he found it and asked you to read it. Page after page was a song, songs about you. The way you made him feel with the deepest kind of love. How he was completely in love with you, completely and utterly infatuated with you. But now they seem like distant memories and something so surreal that you don’t even know if you even were truly there.

And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe

And it kills me 'cause I know we've ran out of things we can say

He hasn’t visited it. He can’t. He’s never not been in there and ordered you a coffee. What was he to do? But when he does, they’re out of coffee. He finds it a little hilarious in a weird twisted way, because it's like you and him. You’re out. 

He can’t stand that you’re out. Because, whilst you have run out of things to say, there’s so much he needs to say. Like he’s sorry, and he loves you.

And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again

He’s convinced that you don’t need him. You don’t him to reach things from the very top shelf anymore, you don’t need him to help you put his or yours bedsheets on, you don’t need him to help you with the food shop or take a shower (if you were feeling naughty). 

He’s deluded, you need him. You need him more than he’ll ever know. You need his soft chest to lay on of an evening, because you can’t sleep like you used to with him, you need him to give you a cuddle after a long days work, you need his lips and his laugh and the way he always knew what to do in any situation. You need him.

What am I now? What am I now?

What if you're someone I just want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

What is he now? He’s no longer part of the duo that once was Y/N and Harry. He’s no longer himself, he's just a shell of a broken hearted man, he’s empty and his love tank is empty. He needs you, as much as you need him, you and him need to be full of one another.

You need the security of one anothers love. You do talk about him. How caring, loving, observant, patient and kind he is. Your girls time is filled with how you feel about Harry and how you heart bleeds for him. For a girl who once didn’t believe in the one, you do now. But do you always end up with the one? Or is that just a myth, do you have to let ‘the one’ go. Go and do his thing, live his life?

As he scans through your social media, he feels a sense of butterflies in his tummy, he falls in love with you smile over and over. He loves your smile. He loves knowing that a few of the photos on your Instagram were taken by him and your smile was as a result of him. He falls in love with you, but he also falls in emotions in knowing you’re gone. You don’t want him anymore.

Or so he believes.

#FineLineFicChallenge @tiostyles

[lightskinrry]

SHE

Daydreams and lost love; a fine line in space and time. 

a/n: guess a bitch is back!!! sorry for the elongated break,,, I'll make a lil post about this and what happened to part two of if you're good... in a bit!! but for now, I hope you guys enjoy this little piece I wrote for the #FineLineFicChallenge hosted by the wonderful @tiostyles​ 💗

also..... I wrote this while I was really fucking high lmaodjnfks let me know what you think and im sending y’all so much love and good vibes as always x N 

Word Count: 1128

“In the beginning it was hard to tell where the sky began and where the ocean ended. It was deep and blue, and pink and orange and golden. It was the sun and the moon. It was crazy, insane, colourful and sad. Sometimes. It had a taste of strawberry and acid. It was intense and beautiful. Disgusting and painful. It was a glory in the night time and a wretch in the morning. I never understood why. Maybe because she was like the sun; shining, blinding, warm. I couldn’t look at her too long. 

She never seemed real but I could touch her, I could feel her, I could hear; when she laughed, when she cried. She never really cried, she’d pull away from me for a second, look away in the distance and close her eyes and she’d ask me to close mine. I would and I’d hear a melody and the wind, as if her sorrows were fading with the music, flying away in the sea. 

The sand was always hot and she would always bury her feet in it because they were ugly or because they were cold. Her skin was smooth even the hair on her legs and the ones on her low belly. She was soft and feral. She never stayed. I didn’t want her to, she was my secret. My little treasure that I kept to myself. And I think of her every day I do not see her. And I’m hoping she’s not lost forever, gone forever. You can only take so much rejection and heart break before it’s time to let go. But I could never let go. It was poisonous, infectious, sick. I feel like I was always drawn to her even when I didn’t knew her and sometimes I wonder if I ever knew her.

She said I was funny, beautiful and handsome. She said I was arrogant sometimes. She said I never knew what to say. She said I wasn’t alone in my head. She said she felt like herself around me. She said if I wasn’t British, she’d think I’m crazy. She said she loved me. Did she? Did I made it up when she said she loved the sea? Did she?

I remember the first time I saw her. As soon as she walked in the room it was electric; the atomes in the walls started shaking. She was walking on water. She was god. And it was the first time that I felt truly understood by somebody. I never felt that way before. Not ever. She liked to touch my hair and kiss the mole on my face. She’d listen to me sing sometimes, she once said that my voice was like soap and I never got it. The trails of colours she saw coming out my mouth made her think of rainbows. She explained to me once that it was funny that we called them rainbows cause it never rains here and even less bows. 

She was a bad kisser, she never opened her mouth enough and she’d always laugh when she kissed me. She told me it was because she was ticklish in the mouth. Her lips were soft and she always told stories of a time we never knew. Every night when we laid in the sand under the moon and the water would brush our toes, I would turn around and look at her look at the sky. She was nice. Sometimes we’d sleep here. Once it hit me; I was out there with her under the sky, on the beach and I was like “Holy shit, that’s what the movies are like”. It was like a fucking rom-com. She loved to dance, she loved it, she’d dance all the time. On a Tuesday, we started dancing and we never stopped. It was a endless spiral of her hair floating around and her hands on my hips.

The only time we slept in my bed, I couldn’t find her in the sheets but I could still smell her perfume the next morning. I was heart-broken. Not because she wasn’t here but because I couldn’t tell if she was ever here. It felt lonely. I wasn’t ready to be lonely again. Maybe that’s what started all this. Maybe the timing never worked and the clock stopped on us before our last dance. It felt like losing a love I never had and somehow it was worst than if I had it. 

She never said goodbye. She left nothing behind. 

Sometimes I’d see her in dreams where we live on the beach, and she sleeps in my bed and I pretend she’s still here in the morning. 

Sometimes I’d think about her smile in the middle of the day and wonder where she is. If she was a vision, I wish she would’ve stick with me. I wish I would’ve gone mad with her. 

I wish I would’ve gone with her. I wish…

I saw her last night, in the club in Malibu. Maybe it was the lights or the music, and no-one else saw her. But I saw her from afar and she was dancing and laughing. And I ran to her like I always do in my dreams but I couldn’t tell where the dream ended and where the reality began because when I woke up in my bed in the morning; she was here. 

And I pinched myself three times and I touched her hair and I couldn’t move because I was scared she’d vanish if I did. So I laid there for hours, watching her sleep. She was peaceful, so deep into slumber, I could hear her breathe. I could see the rays of sun drawing forms on her brown skin; golden patterns moving across her back, spelling my name from time to time. It felt like I stayed there for days before she woke up. When she turned around, I saw her eyes; sad and empty like she gave herself up just to be here with me. Just to fulfil my need for company. She said she loved me. She meant it. She said she wish she could stay but she belonged to the sea. So I set her free. I let her go. And sometimes I still hear her melody and that means she’s crying and other times I see her in my dreams and that means she’s with me, somehow.”

I looked up at Mitch for a second, playing the guitar. I took a long breath and I told him, “She lives in daydreams with me, now.”

He just scrunched his nose and scoffed. “Those mushrooms are fucking strong, dude.”

[wonderrdies]

fine line

summary: Boy and girl meet. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl live happily ever after. Except boy is Harry Styles and even when love comes easy, it doesn’t come simple.

disclaimer: this is my first harry fic ever so... how terrifying. also, it is pure self-indulgent garbage and I Frankenstein-ed the shit out of it a dozen times so y’all are gonna have to forgive me. let’s do this. (btw thank you to @hsogolden​ for this challenge; there’s nothing quite like a goal that makes you force yourself to write)

warnings: some fluff, some angst, a tiny bit of smut and a whole lotta nonsense. 

word-count: about 6,000 words

“Come on,” She yells up the stairs. “Daddy’s here!”

“Coming!” the four-year-old yells back, sock-clad feet hitting the stairs with a muffled thud. 

“Jamie,” Harry calls, not as loud as they are. He knows his son can’t see him, but surely he can hear his voice; it’s not the biggest of houses. “Don’t run down the stairs. It’s dangerous.”

A quiet and frustrated okay, Daddy is heard in the background, and both the adults smile softly. Jamie’s a cute kid. 

“I’m dropping him off at my mum’s and I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s Tuesday night. Don’t you have a song to write or whatever?”

“Can’t really miss my girl’s birthday, can I?”

She laughs, surprised, and the sound of it reminds Harry of the shy girl he met at a bar all those years ago. “It’s not my birthday yet, H.”

“Still,” Harry takes a second to look behind her and check on their son, who’s putting on his shoes while his backpack and a few toys are scattered around him. “Need any help, mate?”

Jamie mutters an agreement so She shifts in the door to let Harry in, and his own face stares back at him from a bunch of family pictures all over the shelves. He kneels beside his child and starts mindlessly tying his shoelaces, turning his attention back to her.

“You should dress up.”

“Harry,” she scoffs. “Is that an insult?”

“Nope,” he pops the p just as he finishes with Jamie’s shoes. “Get your stuff, Jamie. Let’s go see Nana.”

“Can we get milkshakes?” 

“Sure, mate,” but She’s glaring at him. “Tomorrow, when it’s not so late, though.”

“But Daddy—”

“Tomorrow, baby.” She interrupts. With a kiss on their son’s brown curls, she says: “Go wait for Daddy in the car. And behave at your Nana’s. I love you.”

Jamie walks away with a “Love you, Mommy”, stuffed kitten under one of his arms and his half-closed backpack hanging on the other. Harry bends over to pick up his other toys but She stops him with a gesture. “Don’t bother, H. I’ll clean it up once you’re gone.”

“I was gonna take them with us.”

“It’s just one night, he won’t miss them,” She pauses. “Too much.”

“Guess mum will just have to entertain him, then,” he drops the toys on the couch and smiles at her. “Be ready, huh? I’ll text you when I’m near.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Let’s get a drink. For old time’s sake.”

She nods, looking suspicious. Then his fingertips brush her cheek and her eyes soften.

“Let’s just not get wasted on a school-night, okay?”

“We’ll be alright, love,” he says, kissing the soft cheek he just touched. It feels like home against Harry’s lips. 

                                    ------------------------------------------

7 years earlier…

Harry doesn’t notice her for a while. They’re both sitting at the bar counter, only one empty stool between the two of them, but the lighting is dim and the girl looks as closed off as one can get; stiff posture and hair hanging over her face while she stares straight ahead into the liquor shelf behind the bartender. Up until that point, she could be furniture for all he cares. 

Tonight, up until that point, he had been reveling in his loneliness. Harry wasn’t one to enjoy being alone much, but after months of touring, family holidays, and being surrounded by more people than he can even imagine at any given time, he got the appeal of listening to his own thoughts for a while. Even if it made him a little restless after a few weeks of it. Even if he caught himself with his mouth open, about to make a random remark on the cute bartender or the questionable music at least twice. Even if he bounced his leg nonstop and grabbed his phone every five minutes, pondering on who to call for company. 

So maybe he wasn’t reveling in the loneliness anymore. But he had dressed as ordinarily as humanly possible without wearing jeans (there were no pearls or high-heeled boots in sight) and was drinking beer instead of a Cosmo, blending in. He had to make the most of it. What could he tell himself that he didn’t already know? Maybe, Harry thought, I’m just not that interesting. If he couldn’t stand to spend half an hour hanging out with himself, had people been lying to him? He could feel the spiraling begin. 

And then his song starts playing.

At the sound of his voice coming from the speakers, she turns her head. Her hair moves away with the movement, the corner of her lips twitching as if she’s about to smile. She doesn’t, but that’s when Harry notices her. The girl’s mouth moves and he’s pretty sure that if he were just a little bit closer, there’d be a faint whisper of stop your crying, baby, it’s a sign of the times. He wishes he could hear it. 

He continues to shoot sideway glances, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by staring. He’s not sure he wants to be noticed, either. She’s a pretty girl singing along to one of his songs; there are many of those. He doesn’t really want to make a scene. But then again, what’s the chance that this woman won’t turn her head at all for however long they’re there?

Before he can worry about that answer, it happens. The bartender is cleaning the end of the counter to Harry’s right, and she shifts to order another drink. As soon as she does, their eyes meet. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing a baseball hat or a beige knitted sweater and black slacks, she knows he’s Harry Styles. The more the thinks about it, the more self-conscious he becomes. Of course he’s hiding something; who wears that kind of outfit to a bar?

“Hey,” he softly says. He’s not sure how this will go, but so far it feels better than trying to entertain himself. Better than wondering.

Her hand shakes around the glass, empty except for the lime and melting ice, but her voice doesn’t quiver. “Hello.”

“Can I get your drink for you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he calls over the bartender. “Can we get another of what she’s having? And a Cosmo.”

What the hell, he figures. It’s not like any of the few middle-aged people in tables around them will see a pink cocktail and suddenly wonder “Isn’t that…?”. Either they recognize him or don’t. When the bartender nods, he turns back to her.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

She shakes her head no. 

“America?”

“Not the United States, no.”

He’s about to guess Canada, even if her accent doesn’t sound like that at all, and make a fool out of himself when she says: “I’m not a native English speaker. I teach English back home.”

“Really!” his excitement is the first thing to get a smile out of her. It kinda throws him off for a second; it comes and goes quickly, but her whole face changes around it. Looking away for a second, he notices that their drinks are about to be ready. “Can I —” Harry gestures to the stool between them.

The girl nods, and he comes closer. Their knees touch when he sits. 

“Are you here for work?”

“No,” the side of her mouth twitches again. “What about you?”

“I’m home. Just taking some time off.”

“At this time of the year? Sounds like a cool job.”

It’s a bad joke, but he plays into it anyway. “Meh,” Harry shrugs. “It pays the bills.”

“Good for you,” she laughs quietly. “I got this trip for my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday!”

“It’s not today.”

The bartender places their drinks on the counter, the liquid sloshing around a bit, and a little bit of her gin and tonic spills over her hand. “God,” the bartender says. “Sorry, I’ll get—”

“Don’t worry,” she smiles as if to say it’s okay. Then she licks the back of her hand and then her lips. Harry moves uncomfortably in his seat.

“So,” he says once the bartender leaves, taking a sip of his Cosmopolitan. Way better than that shitty beer. “Am I the first or last person to wish you a happy birthday?”

“First. I’ll turn twenty-two in two days.”

“It was an honor to get it wrong, then.”

“Not very subtle, are you?”

He blushes. Actually blushes. 

There’s a silent beat where she seems torn between laughing awkwardly or just straight up bolting out of the room, but the girl settles on chugging her cocktail while Harry stutters. 

“I’m —” they start at the same time. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t —” he stops himself from saying he didn’t mean to flirt. He did mean to flirt. Harry just didn’t mean to be so shit at it. So he settles for: “I just noticed you singing along.”

She brings her drink back to her lips, as if asking for some time to think of what to say, but half a cocktail isn’t enough to hide her smile. He’s staring so intently that she tips the glass towards him and genuinely asks “Do you want a sip?”

Harry just shakes his head no.

“Um, yeah,” the girl starts. “I’m a big fan of yours— your work, I guess.”

“Did you go to any of the shows last year?”

“I couldn’t,” she admits. “But I’ve seen some videos. You looked like you were having fun.”

The comment makes him smile. “I really was. Where are you from? Didn’t I go to your country?”

He realizes then that he sounds pretentious. Maybe she just didn’t want to go to the fucking concert; why is he questioning this stranger as if she’s missed his sweet sixteen? Maybe she’s not even a fan and just heard his single on the radio once. God, what a disaster.

The girl looks embarrassed, like she can’t believe she’s telling him this but won’t shy away from speaking. She tells him the name of her country and explains that she doesn’t live anywhere near the big cities where he played, so she couldn’t afford the trip.

“But if you’re ever passing by again…”

“I’ll let you know,” he says. She laughs quietly, but Harry isn’t really joking. He can see himself texting a nice girl and asking her to come and watch him sing. He’s certainly more impressive up on the stage than here, doing whatever it is that he’s doing right now. “Are you traveling by yourself?”

She hesitates to answer and it makes him cringe. “I sounded like a creep, didn’t I? Jesus. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“Don’t worry about it,” and there it is again, the wide smile that changes her face. Out of all the things Harry Styles could do to charm a woman, acting socially inept isn’t the one he figured would win over a foreign English teacher that hangs out at random London bars for middle-aged couples on awkward dates. But here they are and the more he fucks up, the more she looks relaxed. 

Harry decides to take what he can get. “I guess I haven’t been getting enough practice talking to strangers lately.”

She’s still smiling, not as wide but just as bright. “I’d probably want a break from people too if I were you. I got here yesterday and I’m already done talking to strangers. I knew it’d be hard to get around in another continent but this is a whole other level; I can’t walk two meters without asking someone for directions.”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Is Google Maps not doing it for you?”

“Shut up,” she chuckles. “Data is expensive abroad, y’know? But to be honest, I’m so fucking obtuse when it comes to maps. The thing is pointing one way and the next I know, I walked miles in the opposite direction. It’s much easier to have an actual person telling me where to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, licking his lips after finishing his drink. He sees her eyes flicker down to his mouth for a second, just like his did a few minutes ago. “You have a point.”

“I do?”

“Not really. I just didn’t want you to feel bad about being a confused old lady.”

That makes her laugh, and Harry feels his heart skip a beat. It’s nice to know she thinks he’s funny.

“But you can’t really be a confused old lady, right? Being a teacher and all.”

Like she said, not subtle at all. But he wants to know more about her.

“Bold of you to assume that most teachers are not confused old ladies, but,” she too finishes her second cocktail, pushing her empty glass away from her and closer to the one Harry just left on the counter. “I’m just a confused masters-student trying to look less confused so my students won’t give me shit about it.”

“Do you like it? The whole academic thing and teaching.”

Her smile is soft around the edges, and he can see the drinks catching up to her. “They have their moments, both working hard to understand the things I’m interested in and helping people learn another language. It’s all hard but worth it,” she’s quiet for a second. “Like most things in life, I guess. What about you?”

“Do I like being an academic?”

She rolls her eyes. “Your job, silly. Is it hard but worth it?”

“I guess it’s like yours in the sense that it helps me understand the thing I’m interested in, too.”

“Music?”

“Me,” he answers, and there is that laugh again.

“God,” she says, voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm. “I hate rockstars so much.”

“Don’t we all?” he sees her staring at their empty glasses, so he offers to buy her another drink even though she looks sleepy. Harry figures he’ll drop her off wherever she’s staying so she doesn't have to walk around alone and drunk. 

“I don’t think I can do another one,” she says. “But maybe we could share it? I can definitely deal with half a drink. And I’ll pay for it.”

Before he can say anything, she calls the bartender over and orders another Cosmo on her tab.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, referring both to paying and asking for a cocktail she knows he likes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he thinks it’s probably the fifth time she’s said that in not even an hour. Huh. “God, isn’t it stuffy in here?”

He doesn't think so, so it’s probably the alcohol, but he agrees while she shakes off her coat. When the girl turns so she can hang the fabric over her bar stool, Harry can see, among other quotes and drawings on her arm, the words sweet creature above her right elbow.

“Nice tattoo,” he comments, feeling weirdly proud. It’s not like he doesn’t know hundreds of people get the words he sings on their bodies, but this is different. It’s like trying to know more about someone and realizing, somehow, you already do.

“Which one?” she asks. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over it. It gives her goosebumps. “Oh. It’s a nice song.”

“Why did you get it?”

It makes him feel like an annoying interviewer, trying to get a meaningful answer that isn’t necessarily there. But he’d still like to hear what she has to say.

“I’ve heard I’m not one of those,” is her answer. His hand drops from her elbow.

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told I’m not the sweetest creature,” the smile is gone. She shifts in her seat as if just realizing an old bruise is still tender to the touch. 

Before he can decide between asking more about it and risk her thinking he’s a nosy asshole or just give his uninformed opinion and claim that’s bullshit, a Cosmopolitan is put on the bar between them. 

“Thank you,” she says to the bartender. He’d thank them too, but he’s staring at that suddenly serious face, wondering what else is there to know about that tattoo. About her.

“Doesn’t it become a reminder, though?” Harry asks, and she looks back at him, not understanding the question. “The tattoo. Doesn’t it remind you that someone feels that way about you?”

“Yeah, I guess” she takes a sip of the drink and slides it over to him, their fingers touching in the process; it’s only for a second, and her hand is gone before Harry can understand why he wishes it wasn’t. “But I got it so, when I think of how he saw me, I would know I’m the one who gets to say what I am or am not.”

Harry is curious but doesn’t really know what to say to that, and it shows. She cringes.

“I always do this, you know? I drink and start getting all sad and telling people about all sorts of stuff no one wants to know. I’m sorry, Harry.”

It’s the first time he’s heard say his name. It sounds good on her accent.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and it makes her smile because she realizes he’s been paying attention. 

They share one more drink, and Harry pays for the third Cosmo of the night. By the time they’re finished with it, both of them are giggling and he has one of his hands on her bare knee. After the slightly-awkward oversharing, she proceeded to point out how a couple on the dark corner of the bar seemed, judging by their uncomfortable silence and resentful faces, to be on the brink of divorce. Harry asked her, mostly joking, if she had been around a lot of divorcing couples; she chuckled and then commented on how a dude sitting by the restrooms was probably fingering his girlfriend under the table. She never said no or proved to know about his family by asking him the same thing back. 

But now the whole divorce thing was long forgotten. She and Harry had spent the last hour making up the most obnoxious stories about other customers and whispering them to each other, bodies getting closer and closer every minute.

“You know what I want?” she mutters. Between being shorter than Harry and slouching on her seat, her lips don’t reach his ear, so he can feel her breath on the side of his neck. He shivers.

“What?” he asks in the same low tone, eyes glittering with mischief and tipsiness. 

Her left hand grips his bicep while she practically purrs: “I really want a milkshake.”

From the way his drunken-self gasps and moans God, yes, she might as well have said that she really wanted to suck his dick.

They pay for their drinks, shared or otherwise, and leave the bar. There aren’t many people out on the street at 1 a.m, but Harry still pulls his hat down a little. 

“So,” she says. “Should I get us an uber? Where do British people get milkshakes? Is it far?” 

“I’ll just call a driver.” 

She looks taken aback. “Like a private one?”

Harry nods. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

And he is. She stumbles into the car along with Harry, sluggishly laying her head on his shoulder after closing the door.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he murmurs against her hair.

So she does.

                                   ------------------------------------------

Between dinner, a few drinks and all the talking, they had already broken the not-staying-out-too-late rule. Turns out that rehashing a few days’ worth of parenting, teaching and music producing is time consuming even when you’re not having this much fun.

“One more?” Harry asks, pointing to her empty gin and tonic glass, the shadow of laughter still on his lips after a solid fifteen minutes of her getting progressively more aggravated about a student that “couldn’t, to save his own life, make anyone believe he read The Color Purple”. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Share it with me?”

“Sure, love.”

He orders another cocktail, and She smiles at him even while thanking the waitress. 

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” She replies, still staring shamelessly. It’s easy after all these years. “You just look really good.”

“So do you.”

She shrugs, and before he can say that she really does look beautiful and that he wishes he could prove to her just how much he thinks so (which is a cheap but sure way of making her blush), the waitress places the new cocktail between them.

“God, that was fast,” She mumbles, impressed.

After She takes the first sip, they both start at the same time. “So—”

They giggle, but since She begins sipping again, Harry speaks.

“We’ll both have a couple of months off during the summer, so I was thinking… You could go home.”

“Yeah, I should start planning once the semester ends, I’m just so—” She sighs, and Harry understands. 

“I figured you could go and spend the first few weeks, or even the first month, back home while Jamie and I do our thing.” She looks like she’s about to interrupt him, so he holds up a hand as if asking her to wait. “Hear me out. You go home, spend time with your family or your old friends or, y’know, yourself, because — and don’t even fight me on this — I know you need your alone time. And after you’ve had your break, we’ll meet you there and hang out until you need to get back to prepare for next semester and I need to sort things out for the tour. You can even go somewhere else by yourself before going home or we could do a family thing before coming back to the UK if you and Jamie want to. How does that sound?”

She doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t even smile. She just keeps looking at him while sliding the gin and tonic glass across the table so he can have his share. Harry takes two big gulps and waits for her to speak.

“I don’t—” She stops herself. “You thought of it all, didn’t you?”

“I tried,” he laces his fingers through hers. “So you wouldn’t have to. But, y’know, it’s just an idea. And I thought it’d be better if I brought it up early so we could plan everything properly and, in case you didn’t want help paying for them, the plane tickets wouldn’t cost you an arm and a leg.”

Still silent, She looks down at their joint hands.

“Thank you, H.”

“I didn’t do anything, love.”

He touches her chin so that She’ll look him in the eyes.

“I love you,” Harry whispers. 

She doesn’t have to say it too. He knows. 

                                   ------------------------------------------

6 years earlier…

“Hey, love,” Harry whispers from the other side of the phone call. “How are things?”

She smiles a tired smile up at her dark ceiling at the sound of his voice. “Things are…” The smile fades, replaced by a shaky sigh. “Things are fine, H.”

She means things are like they have been for as long as she can remember. Difficult. A shit-paying job where she feels like a failure most of the time, too much school work, family drama and all sorts of friendship insecurities. There are good days of course, but today just isn’t one of them. She didn’t want to ruin his call, the only silver lining of the night, by complaining. So things are fine. 

“What about you? Is everything good over there?”

“Everything’s great. Had some really good wine earlier today, reminded me of you. You would’ve loved it.”

“Bet you were in a villa, feeling the breeze on your hair, staring at a gorgeous canal or some fancy shit like that,” she jokes.

Harry laughs. “Yeah,” is his answer. 

Oh.

“I kinda wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

“About what?”

She sits up on the bed, her room quiet except for the shifting of her body over the clothes she took off but didn’t bother to fold before laying down after work.

“You should come,” he answers on the phone. 

“What?”

“To Italy.”

“Baby—”

“Come on, love. You always wanted to travel here. Come meet me.”

“Harry,” she sighs. “You’re insane.”

She can picture his face falling just by the sound of his voice. “Why?”

“It’s the middle of September; I’m working, I’m studying. I can’t even afford it. Do you need any more reasons?”

Harry sounds frustrated when he answers, and it brings tears to her eyes. So much for a silver lining. “You can take a day or two off, right? Or just stay the weekend. You know I’ll pay for your flight.”

“Baby,” she takes a deep breath, trying to not let her annoyance show. “I’m almost finished with my master’s; I won’t get it done by missing classes. And yes, you’ll pay for my flight, but that’s not the only expense that goes into traveling and I won’t depend on your money. You know this. We can go when there’s a holiday here. Or mid-December, when the semester is over. I’ll have saved some money by then. I love you for thinking of me but… I can’t, H. Not now.”

He mumbles something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I didn’t hear you,” but she knows he did it on purpose. “Can you say that again, please?”

“I said you’re making up excuses.”

‘You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious! You won’t even try.”

“How am I supposed to try? Either I can or can’t go. And I can’t.”

“You won’t even consider it,” his voice is filled with disappointment. It makes her blood boil.

“Harry, you sound like a child. Listen to me. Even if I went only for the weekend, I’d waste almost an entire day flying back and forth. We wouldn’t even have twenty-four hours together.”

“Don’t you think that sounds better than not being together at all?”

“I bet it does sound better for you, sitting your ass in a gondola, eating your rich-people cheese with your snobby friends, thinking of lyrics about fucking a girl that second-guesses putting you before herself while said girl is out there, flying to you so she can have a hug and a kiss and pretend that everything is fine.”

She’s crying by the time she stops talking, and she knows he can hear it. While she sobs, mostly angry but also starting to regret saying anything at all, he doesn’t say a thing. He could have stopped breathing altogether, considering how quiet the other end of the line is.

“Harry?” she half-pleads, half-scolds. “Talk to me!”

“I’m sorry,” his voice is uncertain, like he can’t quite figure out what to say and how to say it. “I guess I— I miss you. I’m being a prick.”

The weigh on her chest doesn’t go away with the apology, because she doesn’t know if he understands. And she just called his friends snobby and said she pretends to be happy. God. But she can’t say she’s sorry too because she won’t stop crying. She’s just so tired.

“Love,” Harry says, firmly this time. “Don’t cry, it’s okay. Have some sleep. Drink some water. We’ll talk properly tomorrow.”

“No,” she hiccups into the phone. “Wait. I’m—”

“We’ll talk, I promise,” she thinks he’ll hang up then when he hesitates, but he speaks again. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

The line goes dead. She cries herself to sleep.

                                   ------------------------------------------

"God," he pants against her bruised neck.

“What?” She teases. “Are you getting too old for this?”

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, still breathless. “I’m barely in my mid-thirties.” He pushes the sheets away and gets up, looking down at her naked body sprawled across the bed; if he wasn’t so tired, he’d be horny again. “Want some water?”

“Yeah. Thanks, baby.”

He walks out of the bedroom wearing absolutely nothing, which is one of the perks of a child-free house. By the time he’s back with their water, She’s wearing his teal button-up and brushing her teeth, messy natural hair framing her face.

“H,” she calls from the suite’s bathroom, speech slurred because of the toothbrush. She spits before continuing, “Can you sing me a song?”

Harry chugs his water and lays back on the bed, waiting for her without saying a word. 

“Can you?” She asks again, climbing on the bed in all fours, hovering over him. “Can you?” A whisper against his mouth. But when he leans over for a kiss, she falls to the bed, suddenly grinning, and hugs his side. “Come on.”

“Such a tease,” he mumbles, already hugging her back and tangling his legs with hers.

Harry starts singing quietly, voice still a little rough even after the water, and he can feel her smiling lips against his chest.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you…

“How romantic,” she says quietly once he’s done.

“That’s me, only doing the best for my girl” he says smugly, which makes her laugh, but then he turns serious. “I love you, you know?”

“Love you too, H.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

                                   ------------------------------------------

5 years earlier…

The paparazzi call her name on screen. There are not many of them, but it disturbs Harry nonetheless; three or four photographers outside a restaurant, just waiting for her and yelling at her once she walks out the door. She looks nervous in a way Harry can imagine other people not noticing, fidgeting hands and a fast walk. But her face is serious and dismissive while she walks straight ahead.

“Are you Harry Styles’ new girlfriend?” one of them asks from behind the camera.

Harry pauses the video, telling himself he needs to ask someone on his team how the hell they found out who she is just by a blurry picture taken through his car window a few days ago when she’s not even on social media, which is true. But he’s also not sure he wants to hear her answer. He checks the time under the video; it was posted less than an hour ago. He should call her and ask if everything’s okay, but he just presses play again.

“No,” she answers right away. Harry feels like he’s sinking.

Why the fuck did they not discuss this before she moved to England? What was he thinking when he resisted PR’s involvement? They should’ve planned for this, coordinated answers, made up their minds so he wouldn’t feel sucker-punched and she wouldn’t be thrusted into the spotlight with no warning.

“You were in his car last Monday!” someone says, as if telling her she’s a liar.

She doesn’t bother responding to that. They keep calling her name.

“What are you and Harry, then?”

She’s almost down the subway’s stairs and there’s not many seconds left in the video, so he’s not too worried about what happens next. Harry looks at his phone, expecting her to disappear from the frame so he can text her and ask her to come over so they can talk, so he can hold her and make sure she’s not freaking out. But she slows down, considering the person’s question. She turns her head to a camera somewhere to the right of the video he’s watching, curls falling down the side of her face. 

Matter-of-factly, with amused eyes but no smile, she says: “Soulmates.” And then she’s down the stairs and the video ends.

Harry stays very still. Text notifications appear over and over, more than one person saying the same thing: apparently they found her on her university’s website, where she’s listed as a doctoral student. He doesn’t open the messages, though; doesn’t even breathe until there’s a knock at the door.

Everyone else just rings the bell or asks to be buzzed in. It’s her.

Harry walks to the door, bare feet sliding on the wooden floors, and opens it. She’s standing in front of him dressed in the same black skirt and pink sweater from the video, hair messy around her serious face.

“H,” she starts. The sound of her voice relieves most of the pressure in his chest. “I—”

He doesn’t let her finish; just kisses her like he would kiss a soulmate. She steps forward, dropping her bag and closing the door with one hand while the other busies itself holding onto the soft cotton of Harry’s worn T-shirt, the feeling of his tongue against hers making her dizzy. 

They stumble into the couch, her hips sitting on top of his, breathing heavily against each other’s lips. Harry takes longer than necessary stripping her of her sweater, gripping every inch of exposed skin as if he could keep it to himself. “Harry,” She whispers, asking him to hurry. The pink fabric falls to the floor and his right hand instantly pulls at her hair, her back arching so he can get one of her nipples on his mouth. “Harry,” She breathes out again, tortured, and a careless move of her hips makes them both gasp. The hand that’s not tangled in her hair squeezes her tight so hard they’re both sure it’ll bruise.

“Lay back,” he says before sucking on her other nipple, teeth grazing her skin and making her grind into him with more purpose. Despite his words, Harry doesn’t move so she can do what he’s telling her to. “I want to—” he bites her shoulder, hard, “see if—” sucks a mark into the side of her breast, “you can move like that on my face.”

She moans at his words, his mouth, his hand on her hair, tightening by the second.

“No,” she licks her lips, but never finishes the thought. Her hand drops to the one he has on her tight and squeezes it. “Can you—”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, letting go of her thigh. His hand disappears beneath her skirt, and she can feel him pushing her panties out of the way. He swipes a finger against her so lightly she can barely feel it. “Is that what you want?”

“More.”

She lifts her hips, trying to get more friction on his hand. “Come on.”

Harry slides one finger into her, then another. Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp, and she feels like she’s stopped breathing altogether once he fucks into her fast and hard, thumb brushing against her clit.

“Kiss me,” she whimpers, riding his fingers frantically, the sweat dripping down her torso sticking to Harry’s T-shirt.

Their mouths meet at the same time he squeezes a third finger into her. She moans against his lips and holds his waist under his clothes, seemingly undecided between tugging at his shirt or his belt.

“H, let me,” she murmurs the words into his lips, still pulling at his clothes. 

“No,” he sounds as wrecked as she does, which is saying a lot. “Cum for me first.”

Harry stops moving his hand, tries to tease her, but she barely seems to notice, moving so desperately that he hits all the right places without even trying. With a sob, she squeezes tight around his fingers and rides out her high while clinging to Harry for dear life.

Her head falls to his shoulder, face hiding behind her hair and in his neck.

“Good?” he asks, voice raspy, wiping his soaked fingers on the side of his pants. 

She doesn’t say anything for a second, just breathing hard into his skin, then sobs again. Not with pleasure. 

“Love?” Harry questions in worry. “What’s wrong?”

Her body starts to shake in his arms, tears mixing with the sweat on his T-shirt’s collar. He calls her name, scared out of his mind with what this could mean. Did she come here to say she couldn’t do this anymore? He didn’t let her say a thing before kissing her. He should’ve listened, should’ve waited, should’ve asked her what ‘soulmate’ meant when it couldn’t mean ‘girlfriend’.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, hugging him closer even though there’s not any space between their bodies. 

“What are you sorry for?” he asks quietly.

“I know this is freaking you out. I just—” and then she’s sobbing again.

“Talk to me,” Harry begs.

“I love you so much, H,” he could feel the but at the end of the sentence.

“I love you too…” he swallows before asking, “Is this about the photographers? Are you upset they were around? ‘Cause we can fix that.”

She looks up at him, the tip of their noses touching. With furrowed brows and swollen eyes, she mumbles, “You gonna have them killed or somethin’?”

He’d laugh if he could. “Not really. I’ll do something, though. Whatever it is you need me to do.”

She rests her chin on his shoulder so he can’t look her in the eyes. In a whisper, she asks: “Can you freeze us in time?”

“What?”

“I’m scared we’ll lose this,” She confesses. “I’m so in love with you, Harry and I— I don’t want us to be boyfriend and girlfriend the way I’ve learned it, owing each other and the world explanations and parts of ourselves. I want us to choose to love each other every day because we can’t help but do so — a forever that looks like the way you offered me a drink, the way you flew out to meet me after our fight and promised we’d do better, the way you kissed me today; like it’s not simple but it’s easy. ”

Harry stays silent for a while.

“I’m sorry if it makes no sense,” her voice shakes. “I think I’m just desperate not to lose myself in you while getting to keep you and— I don’t know, it doesn’t sound as reasonable as I thought it would.”

He whispers her name.

“Yeah?”

“Being with you forever, one day at a time, sounds reasonable to me.”

                                   ------------------------------------------

“Do you want to marry me?”

“What?”

“Marry me, love,” he laughs softly. “Do you want to?”

She’s silent, tear-filled eyes staring up at him.

“You know how I knew it was time?” Harry asks, still in a low voice like they’re somewhere sacred. Home. “We built a family out of a promise we didn’t even have to make. A while ago, even before Jamie, you told me we shouldn't owe each other, and it’s true. I won’t ever ask you for anything you haven’t already given me, because that’s how you love me too. But I’ll ask for this because it’s ours and I know it’ll stay this way.”

They’re both crying, and her shaking hands try to wipe away his tears.

“I want to,” She says. 

That sudden bright smile takes over her face like it did both years and minutes ago. It doesn’t take him by surprise anymore. 

[wildcherryhs]

𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨. ❞

𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭: harry isn’t used to being rejected, especially by his best friend.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫+𝐚/𝐧: this is for the fine line writing thingamabobmajiggything. i’m also really good at mediocre shit so enjoy my mediocre shit. cussing is most definitely ahead. this is really short, i’m sorry? i tried? also every time i listen to adore you, this is like how i interperate the song so y ee t. i might write a couple more chapters/parts to this depending on how i feel about it. 

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: harry x plus size! best friend! fem! reader

—

It all started with that damn Christmas party last week. 

She had worn the matching Rudolph sweater to his reindeer ears headband, a duo that no one would ever doubt. Her hair was in her face and hiding her blushed cheeks every time he joked about standing under some fake mistletoe. And her lips were plump from the constant drinking of punch, the pineapple soaking it’s acidity into her skin and making her look nothing but kissable. Harry was suffocating the entire night and even had a thought to himself that strangling himself with the hanging lights would be more comfortable than this. Anything but this. 

Because Harry realized for the first time that night that he was in love with Y/N. His dear, precious Y/N that he’s known over the years and has endured every part of his successful journey with him. Y/N was his best friend in the entire world and that was something that would never go away. He trusted her in everything he did. 

However, over the past few months, he’s gotten closer to her in a way he never thought he would see himself doing. Their late-night conversations weren’t just for shits and giggles, no. They somehow grew intimate with him, and he felt so transparent and real. The only girl to ever make him feel like he wasn’t just another human being. Y/N gave him everything and made him feeling everything all at once. That’s when he knew he was royally fucked. 

A groan left his lips as Harry covered his eyes from the light above him, shielding himself from the outer world as well. The studio had been empty for hours, and he thought it would be best to stay behind after the others left to just think. It only made him bury himself further in the hole that he had dug. Just as he was about to sit up, the sound of a knock on the door jolted him back to reality. At the door stood the janitor, Gary, who was in his fifties, holding a vacuum looking rather confused.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t think anyone else was here. I can come back later,” he started.

Harry shook his head, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “No, no. You’re completely fine, I’m sorry for holding you back from your job. Let me just grab my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” 

Without giving Gary the time to protest, he began to pack up his lyrics and jacket, even throwing away some of the others’ trash from dinner. Little did he know that his face was scrunched up in concentration, eyebrows furrowed and lip tucked under his front teeth. It was clear that he was deep in thought and that made Gary questionable.

“I don’t mean to pry, but son, you look troubled.” Harry glanced up as he spoke, freezing in his movements. Was it really that obvious the damage he was causing himself? As he sighed, Gary nodded and pulled back a seat from the table in the middle of the room. “I have some time, ya know. It looks like you need someone to talk to.”

For a split second, a genuine smile placed on his lips and he cautiously took a seat as well, folding his arms in front of his chest. It was silent for a moment as he tried thinking of what to say. His lips pursed every time he thought of what to say only for him to go into a frown, finding himself stuck. Why was it so hard to admit he was in love with Y/N? 

The janitor sat back in his seat, inspecting the other male rather closely before he nodded slowly. “You’re in love. It’s complicated, but you’re in love and don’t know what to do.”

Harry was stunned, to say the least. This man who he had never met before in his entire life was able to describe exactly how he was feeling in one statement as if he was an open book. He could only sit in shock with his eyes wide at the older man, trying to come back to reality. Gary took this as his chance to continue.

“All you teenagers today treat love like it’s some scary thing like once you close your eyes it will disappear. Horse shit,” he started, shaking his head. 

Harry scoffed for a moment but Gary only smiled. 

“Kid, I’ve lost so many people in my life. These are people who I loved with all my heart and yet they still left. I never stopped loving them, and I don’t plan on it. If you’re feeling this way because of love, then you’re only hurting yourself. It deserves to be heard and to be celebrated. The more you hold it inside, the more unhappy you’re going to be.” 

Harry could only nod at the wise words being spoken by someone he’s only known for five minutes yet had the audacity to call him out on his bullshit. He felt like he was trapped inside his own mind but the advice from Gary was making him feel liberated in a way, almost reassuring him that everything was going to be alright no matter what the outcome would be like. Harry glanced up at the janitor to see him already leaving the room, and he panicked for a moment.

“W-Wait, how do I tell her?”

Gary shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she already knows. Just confirm it.” he laughed lightly.

Harry half-smiled at the advice but then smirked slightly, standing up to grab his stuff as well. “By the way, I’m not a teenager. I’m twenty-five.” 

Gary continued on his way out the door with his back facing the younger boy, his own smile upon his lips in a way a father would smile at their kid. 

“Then act like it.”

--------

Before he could stop himself, Harry was standing in front of the familiar sand-colored door that had a shitty, dollar store Christmas sign taped to it. It was the same one she put up every year despite how out of shape it was getting over the course of time. He could feel his heart racing against his chest in a way he never thought he would experience. He’s performed in front of thousands, if not millions, of people and this was still more frightening to him. However, Harry knew he had to do it. He had to do it tonight before it was too late. Or he would never forgive himself. Harry rung the doorbell with a shaky finger, deciding that if she asked why he was shaking it was because of the winter evening. 

Within a matter of seconds, Y/N stood in front of him in her loose-fitting clothing, which was actually an oversized band shirt and some black leggings. Her hair had been tied back to prevent it from getting in her face as she made her annual Christmas sugar cookies. But, the look on her face was priceless because why would Harry be here so late at night and in this weather?

“Harry, what the actual hell?” Y/N fumed, pulling him inside immediately to shield him from the cold December night.

She slammed the door shut and began to brush off some snow from his arms as he just stood still, admiring her caring actions so closely. Harry stared at her from his height, being around a foot taller than her, and felt himself grow even more in love with her. Just the way she always cared for him, the way how she rushed to make sure he was warm-

“Harry, I asked you what are you doing here?” Y/N chuckled, moving some hair from his face. 

That’s when he fucking lost it.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

There was a moment of silence before either spoke once more. Harry’s eyes were wide at revealing his own secret and Y/N froze in place, spacing herself between him with a good foot of distance.

Harry... loved Y/N? Of course, they would love each other, they were best friends! That’s why it had to be the reason and the only reason. She smiled warmly and nodded at his statement, taking it lightly as she only thought of it platonically. I mean, her whole friendship with him she’s had to keep it platonic in fear of ruining anything between them. So, whenever he said things like this, she would just embrace their friendship even further knowing he could never love her. At least that’s how she perceived it.

“I love you, too, H. You’re my best friend!” she giggled, shaking some more snow off of his body before turning to leave to the kitchen.

Harry looked at her with confusion, tilting his head to the side. For the first time, he actually questioned if there was something genuinely wrong with Y/N. Did she not just hear him confess his undying love for her? And she just walked away? What the fuck?

“I made some tea, do you want some?”

Harry followed her into the kitchen and scoffed. “No, I don’t want your fucking tea.”

Y/N stared back at him with just as much shock as earlier, his language turning cruel in just one second. She gave a face of annoyance, a hand on her hip as she replied in a sassy tone, “Well, damn, you could’ve just said no.”

Harry sighed heavily. “I said I was in love with you, Y/N. I love you like a best friend too but I really, really love you. More than a best friend should.” He spoke rather softly on the last part, stepping closer to her almost as if needing her touch.

Y/N laughed it off. “You can’t be serious.” Was all she said, a fit of giggles erupting from her only to turn into deep chuckles. However, when she opened her eyes from her little fit, she could see Harry standing there looking as honest as ever. It was something in the way his eyes looked at her, taking in every inch and curve and imperfection and viewing it as complete art. His body was aching to be near hers, reaching out and holding onto her waist that was always so soft and fun to grab, which he meant in the best way possible. She had shape and he loved it; God did he love her body. Harry was so in love it fucking wrecked everything in him. And Y/N could see it all unfold right before her in the kitchen around 1 in the morning on a random December night. Harry Styles was most definitely in love with her.

He leaned in, nuzzling his face into her neck as he brought her in close. She was so warm already and he felt like a snowman defrosting in front of a fire. Y/N shivered and almost reciprocated his movements only to push him away slightly, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she scoffs and Harry is only more confused as his face scrunched up at her rejection. 

“You can’t be in love with me, Harry. I’m me. I’m your best friend that stays home from parties because I’d rather be alone. I’m the type of person to call in sick from work just to get some extra hours of sleep. Harry, I don’t even make it to school on time because I’m either having some like panic attack about school or I’m thinking about dropping out. I am not the girl you should be in love with and I don’t understand how you could love me when I don’t even.... when I don’t even love me.”

Harry felt something in him twist in pain, almost like the self-hatred she felt for herself was causing him to physically feel ill. How could she feel so unwanted? So unloving of herself when all he ever did was let her know how much she meant to him? He knew that loving yourself is one of the hardest things to do but he just couldn’t understand it, not in this situation. Not when Y/N was such an amazing person. It made him upset knowing that’s how she viewed herself because to him she was so much more than she could ever imagine.

He felt the need to speak up against her words only for Y/N to push him away once more. 

“No, I don’t want to hear what you have to say. Harry, you can’t be in love with me. I’m not the girl you need in your life right now and honestly, I hate you so much for telling me this. Why did you tell me this? Why now?” she pushed, anger beginning to rise in her. If he was so in love with her, what changed about telling her tonight? Why couldn’t he tell her before? Y/N couldn’t even realize the amount of hypocrisy at the moment as she continued to rage at her best friend.

Harry laughed at her words. “You’re mad at me for telling you how I feel? Wow, that’s a first. You really do astonish me, Y/N. You always have.” he chuckled but something about it wasn’t sincere. “I don’t think you quite understand what I’m trying to tell you here and it’s so frustrating- God, you’re being so frustrating right now.”

The two shared a stare of intensity, anger evident in both of their eyes. Y/N was too prideful to even let into Harry’s feelings and to let him know she felt the same. She continued to hold herself back however Harry was pulling her into him, almost like two waves fighting against each other in the ocean and meeting together as one. He would never stop colliding with her until she realized what he was saying to her was true. Even if she didn’t love him back, Harry just wanted her to know that what he was saying was true. Why was she making this so difficult?!

“I would never lie to you, I mean, I would never lie in general because that’s not me. But, lovey, I would never lie to you.” He was so gentle with his words that it somehow sparked the fire in Y/N.

Tears had spilled onto her reddened cheeks, her hands reaching up and wiping furiously at the mess he had made. Y/N just felt all of her emotions outweigh her as she let go of the grip she was holding inside. Everything came pouring out and Harry couldn’t be more welcoming to the open invitation of her vulnerability.

“Harry, I can’t let you love me. Please, I-It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, but I can’t let you be with me. I’m a mess of a human and I can’t bring that onto you. I love you, too. I always have.”

Harry felt his heart swell in his chest at her words, both in sadness and in joy. She had just confessed that she reciprocated the way he felt about her and he couldn’t be happier. He reached forward, despite her pushing him away, and held onto her like before however, he wasn’t going to let her escape as easily. His forehead pressed against hers, shushing her as she crumbled against him, their bodies being able to mold into each other so easily after all of the years of being together. It was home to her; Harry was home. Her cries turned to muffled whimpers into his chest, her arms wrapped tightly against him, knowing that she wanted this just as much as him. 

“Please let me love you.” was all he whispered, his own eyes forming with tears.

Y/N could feel how close they were in that moment and could feel his heart beating faster by the second. Despite wanting to close her eyes and avoid confrontation, she knew she had to be open. She slowly began to nod her head but she knew that Harry would want a vocal response. So, as her lips parted, she swallowed roughly and responded with a shaky breath. 

“O-Okay,” she whispered back.

Harry broke into the biggest grin, lips reaching down to be met with hers. Immediately he felt ignited from his feet all the way to the top of his head. He was on fire, the hair on his arms rising from the shock that was cast upon him. Harry was overwhelmed with affection, a feeling he could finally come to understand and appreciate. Y/N had never been kissed like that, and somewhere inside of her, she knew it only proved they were meant to be. Soulmates would be an understatement for their case. It was like the world was made for them in that exact moment in time, and no matter what history was made on that day, they would always end up together one way or another.

Like it’s the only thing they’ll ever do. 

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Falling.

@tiostyles​ is doing a fic challenge that I decided to participate in. Enjoy!

The one where he appears to be a charismatic but a challenging person to understand in a coffee shop, but one night he lets it all out and lets it wash away. 

Two Years Ago.

The BoardWalk Coffee house has a golden luminosity to it as the sunlight peeks between the silvery clouds and gleams in through the oversized windows that overlook the bay area. The sea looks somnolent as it rests in the dawn glow, but by this evening it’ll be transformed into a courageous and powerful ocean as the storm rolls in.

There he sits, with his notebook and pen accompanied by a cup of coffee which is a great contrast compared to the smoothies he has been sipping most mornings. His head tilts to the side, and he taps the pen on the journal with his lip chewed between his teeth. This morning, he looks like a rigid mess. His hair tumbles around his face, he sports a manlike, five o’clock shadow and his eyes that are a bewitching, tourmaline-green are a sullen loam grey that appears as if they haven’t slept in a few days. He appears different today; he looks like a miserable outcast which is unusual; he resembles a charming yet complex man with eyes that have the same startling prominence as a mountain stream. Whenever his eyes glance over at me while he scribbles and turns the sheet in his journal, they have this a-gleam with delight to them that although brand a hole inside me— they’re the portals to his soul— a soul I would like to get to know in a curious and intriguing way. 

I taste my warm coffee with the harmony of the ocean shattering against the shore. I can’t help but be charmed by the man in front of me with each word he writes. I wonder each day what it is he does each morning; is assembling at the coffee place the first thing on his list of things to do in the morning? Or is it the last? 

He catches me as the kind to be up before the sun rises and in bed just as it sets. There is something about him that makes me question so many things about him, such as how he takes his coffee and smoothies, and why he always leaves a twenty-dollar bill on the table even if he doesn’t buy a beverage. Most of all, I wish to understand his thoughts he is penning down on the paper and whether he is scribbling in cursive or print. I can only imagine his penmanship is as captivatingly engaging as he is. 

I shake my thoughts aside and shift my eyes back to the scripted words of the book at the edge of my fingertips— a book I have run my fingers down the spine of so many times and never began reading until this morning. 

My 

“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” An unusual yet familiar voice distracts me.

I glance away from my book to view the enigmatic man who perches at the table across from me is shadowing over me with a petite grin. 

“Excuse me?” I gaze at him, noting the fact that for the first time this morning, there is a lustre to his eyes and a tiny smile beginning to paint across his lips. 

The man chuckles to himself and signals towards the work of literature resting in my left hand, “Your book.”

I nod my head, “Oh, I see… How simple of you to quote such a well-known quote, I expected more of you.” I point out the fact he strikes me to be complicated, but he stays on the safe side with what he recites. 

He raises a brow and becomes speechless for a minute. For a moment, I become fearful that I have overstepped and wounded his feelings, but my thoughts dwindle the moment he opens his  mouth again to speak, “If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.”

“Huh, so you correct me. Maybe you are complex after all.” 

“Why do you think I am complex?”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug. “Just how I observe you. Are you going to introduce yourself or are you going to remain a difficult mystery for me to solve?” I question, watching as his lips curve up into a smirk. 

He grows withdrawn for a moment, his eyes gazing at the book in my hand while his own hand has his notebook tucked away firmly. 

“For someone so quiet, you’re very outspoken.” 

“Ouch, easy there, could say the same about you,” I gesture towards his notebook. “I can bet that notebook can tell me more about you than what you ever could.” 

I don’t need him to tell me I am right; I know I am right with my comment. 

“The name is Harry,” he chuckles. “And you’re right,” Harry admits shyly and modestly. 

I take a swig of the last of my coffee and I place the cup back down on the table. “Care to join me, Harry? I am due for another round.” I gesture towards my empty coffee. It has been a long few days, I deserve the second coffee for my struggles.

“You’re okay with that?” Harry cocks his head to the side, waiting for my response. 

I’m not sure why he seems hesitant, perhaps it’s him being a gentleman or maybe there’s a part of him that doesn’t have much trust left inside him. He looks like something or someone has destroyed his dispositions and he doesn’t know what to do with himself or what to believe. “I just invited you, so yes. Why do you ask?” 

“People do it differently here. Never quite know where I stand.”

I nod my head, “Ahh,” I sound. “Yes, you’re the outcast, I figured that out, where are you from?” 

Harry grins and shrugs his shoulders, “I will leave you to ponder that while I get coffee,” Harry flicks his head to the barrister before he saunters over to the counter to order our drinks, leaving me alone with my book and my wandering thoughts. 

I can determine he is an outsider, he does things differently compared to everyone else around here. The way he leaves the coffee shop amuses me, he does it in a graceful manner yet he is hurrying out as if he needs to beat the rush, but there is never a rush at the hours he is here. To be honest, we are usually here in the dead hours of the coffee place. 

Although his accent is a blatant giveaway, he is not from this small town in South Carolina; he resembles the person who carries a piece of each place he goes to. He doesn’t appear to be the sort who can stay stagnant in one location, he has to always be moving and discovering new places to call home, even though the home he is looking for isn’t a place or four walls; Instead, the home he’s looking for is within someone else. 

Harry places a coffee down on the table and slides it closer to me with a smile. “Thank you.” 

Harry nods and takes a seat across from me. “Figured out where the outcast is from? Or do you need a hint?” 

“You’re arrogant,” I point out as I take the coffee cup with my hand and swirl it around. “Your accent gives it away. But something tells me you spend little time in the UK.” 

Harry nods his head, agreeing to both statements, “Observant.”… “I spent time in Cali before I came here.” 

“Why’d you come here?” I question. The words seem to cut him like a double inch blade, and if I didn’t know anteater there’s something he’s trying to slip away from, but no matter how much he tries to flee, he never will until he admits what caused him to leave. 

Harry’s eyes flick between my gaze and the notebook at the edge of his hand. 

And there it is, there’s the answers. The answers to my questions lay in black ink, scribbled between the fine lines of the journal.  

“I didn’t want to fall into old habits.” 

“May I ask what you mean?” 

“I needed new scenery. I write songs about the same things; I’m well aware I write too many songs about–,” Harry trails off and grows silent. He takes a sip of his drink, leaving us lingering in silence. There it is—his old habit. 

I allow the silence to linger before I take a moment to grant us to get back to what we were doing before he sat over here; I read my book, and he nonchalantly opens his notebook, feeling comfortable enough to pat his pen against the paper. 

He distracts me with every piece he crosses out with each harsh sigh. “What has you worried? You seem tired and frustrated, lay it out for me.” 

“Excuse me?” Harry raises a brow. 

“You heard me. Let it out; tell me what’s running through that mind and maybe it’ll stop you from crossing our every damn line you write,” I gesture towards the notebook that is taking the pain of his heavy hand. He can only cross out so many words with black ink before it consumes him. 

Harry glances at me and he cocks his head to the side. “Have you thought about if you’re someone you want to be around?” 

“Don’t turn this into something about me.” I see right through him. I see what he’s trying to do. He’s turning the tables because speaking of himself is too much. 

Harry swallows hard, almost as if it’s too hard to come to terms with his thoughts. “What if I’m someone I don’t want around?”

I glance at Harry, beginning to piece together the man who sits in front of me is falling apart. A complex man who seems well put together is falling apart right in front of me. The lines he scribbles out aren’t just lines, they’re the words he can’t figure out how to express, the words he is thinking but is too scared to say out loud. He is scared the lines he is writing describe the person he is— or the person he doesn’t want to be. He fears being someone he doesn’t want around, but if he doesn’t show self-acceptance of himself, nobody will. 

“What if you are someone you want around, but you’re too scared that you aren’t fitting into someone else’s depiction of you?” I question, causing Harry to grow quiet for a moment and ponder on what I have said. 

“You’re a therapist, aren’t you?” Harry challenges, beginning to read me in the same way I am reading him. 

I shake my head. “Not quite.”

“What do you do?” 

“You like to put the focus on me, I see,” I comment. “I just finished my masters in Art Therapy and finished my teacher trainer education. In the fall I will start my classes and until then, I work at the hospital doing Art Therapy," I inform Harry of what I do, “So, care to answer my question? Is your problem you don’t fit into someone else’s idea of you? An ex-girlfriend?"  

Harry glares at me and he closes his journal with a rough sigh. I can discover in his eyes he doesn’t want to answer the question, he doesn’t want to admit it to himself that the problem isn’t him, it is who he surrounds himself with. He is like the missing piece to everyone’s puzzle, but he can’t fit in every single puzzle as perfectly as he would like. 

Harry clears his throat before he nods his head, “It’s like I lost myself with her, but I found myself at the same time… I sometimes wonder if I am someone I don’t want around… Especially when I think of her. But, that is a story for another day, will I see you here tomorrow?” Harry asks. 

I shake my head, “No, I am suddenly going to stop my routine and decide to go to the burger joint next door,” I sarcastically respond, “Yes, I will be here, with my book," I gesture towards the book on the table. 

“I will be here with this," Harry holds up his journal, flashing me a smile before he saunters away from the table and leaves. 

Today.

The house has been quiet for the last hour and a half, dead silent since Harry got off the phone. At least once a week he gets a phone call, one that he loves but also dreads at the same time. Without a doubt, the phone calls tend to send him into a bit of a downward spiral. After the call, he closes himself off to the world, falls down his own rabbit hole and resurfaces once he comes back to his senses. 

I wrap my cardigan around the front of my body as I step outside onto the porch that leads to the private boardwalk. I glance around, unable to see Harry. I step off the porch and walk down the stairs. I follow the pathway of the private boardwalk that is lit dimly by a few lights. At the end of the boardwalk, I reach the sand and I take off my shoes, allowing my feet to catch the coldness of the sand. I follow the light of the moon that flawlessly glistens off the darkened water of the ocean. The beach waves break against the shore in a calming manner, and the slight salty breeze sweeps through my hair. I glance towards the right of the boardwalk and there he sits, in his familiar location. He’s sitting with his guitar in his lap, his head bowed down as he strums a couple of chords. 

I wander closer to his figure, the sound of the ocean harmonising ideally with the chords he is strumming. “You okay out here?” I softly ask, taking his attention away from the melody he has been playing. 

Harry nods his head, “Yeah,” Harry lets out a sigh as he gazes up at me, the glow of the moon lighting up his eyes, “Guess you heard, huh?” Harry questions, referring to the argument he had over the phone. 

I don’t listen in to his phone calls, sometimes it is difficult not to hear what is being said when he is unquestionably unsettled and angry; it is hard not to take note of Harry pacing the floorboards and wearing them thin. Distance is tough on him, and it is even more arduous on his family, specifically his sister. For the last few months, the two of them have ended most phone calls in anger and bitterness. Their relationship has been tight but what strains them is Harry’s lack of wanting to go back home. 

“I heard you get upset, are the two of you still unable to find a middle ground?” I ask.

Harry shakes his head, “Her and I can’t have conversations, she wants me in London but I don’t want to be there.”...  “And it kills me ‘cause I know we’ve ran out of things we can say.” His words come off heartbreaking, he is hurting and there is nothing I can do. “What if I’m someone I don’t want around?” Harry asks the same question he asked me when I first met him at the cafe. 

The path Harry has travelled hasn’t been the easiest of paths, the man I met in the cafe was heartbroken, lost and swimming around his own thoughts wanting an escape but not knowing how to. He was trapped in his own emotions and thoughts, and to a certain extent, he still is confined sometimes. He falls, he falls into his old self and sometimes he falls into what he doesn’t want to become. He falls into the idealistic picture others sketch of him— he tries desperately to be the person he wants to be— but sometimes the person he becomes is someone painted by others. 

I take a moment to kneel down in front of Harry, the cold sand spreading around my knees, “Keep your head above the water, Harry. You’re not drowning. You are the person you are meant to be, you are the creator of your own self. Things will be okay— this song,” I gesture towards his guitar that he has been carrying with him a lot, playing the same few chords, “This song you have been working on, it’s what you’re battling. Why?” 

Harry shrugs, cocking his head to the side as he loosens his grip on the guitar before he allows it to sit on the sand. “I can sit here and tell myself that everything is fine, but at the end of the night, I’m down and I am out; I can’t stop myself from falling into old habits of needing the acceptance and clarity of others.” 

“What are you looking for?”

“What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?” Harry whispers, the vulnerability dripping from his lips, his past relationships, distrust and let downs taking a toll on him as brushes his thumb over a chord.

I give him a small smile, “There’s a fine line,” I draw a line in the sand, “Between who you are and who you think you are, what’s important about yourself is who you think you are, do you know who you are?” I raise the question, gesturing to the side of the line where he sits before me, his eyes staring at me. 

By now, he should be used to my cross-examinations that tend to cause him to think deeply about not only what I am saying but also what he is thinking. Some of my lines he uses in his lyrics and the lines I practice on him are the ones I overhear him singing or the ones I happen to catch a glimpse of. He is musically talented but sometimes he takes for granted the power of his own words. “You will always be someone I talk about, but that means nothing if, on your side of the line, you don’t believe it.” 

“How… How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“You just— you have a bloody way with words that changes the way I think.” 

I shrug my shoulders, “I know you well,” I respond, “But you need to stop drowning yourself in these disagreements you are having with your sister, stop comparing yourself to who you used to be with your ex and focus on yourself. And finish the damn song you’re writing, you’re driving me nuts with it,” I gesture towards the guitar and Harry can’t help but chuckle to himself. 

“I have finished it…” Harry trails off. 

I let out a sigh, well aware of what is to come next, “But?” I draw out the short word, there is always a but involved when he trails off his sentences. 

“It’s raw and vulnerable.”

“That’s what makes it real, it’s what makes you human.” 

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, “You won’t be pleased.” 

“Why?” 

“Well,” Harry begins, “It’s about—” Harry can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. 

He doesn’t have to. I already know who it is about. I have heard a few of the lyrics passing by when he is humming and writing, I know she is the reason why the song has lyrics, and I know I am the reason why the song is being finished. As much as the song is about her, it is equally as much about me, the one who encourages him to write his feelings, even if they’re about the past and about an ex-girlfriend.

Writing and most forms of art come from deep down. They come from the experiences of both good and bad. Sometimes, without these experiences, we don’t form into the person we are meant to be, sometimes, without these experiences, we don’t create the Art that we were meant to. I, of all people, am aware of how each experience participates in what is created and what colours of the pallet are used. 

I let out a sigh, well aware of what is to come next, “But?” I draw out the short word, there is always a but involved when he trails off his sentences. 

“Have you called her?” I challenge.

“Who?” 

“Your ex, the one the song is about.” 

Harry shakes his head, “No, that would be disrespectful to you.” 

I understand where he is coming from, it isn’t every day your current girlfriend is more than okay with you calling your ex and mending old fences, but in this sense, I think he needs to mend before he can be free. He is confined by the broken fences and he can’t figure out how to escape and breathe without looking back. “Harry, the only way to move forward and become someone you want to be around is to go back home and face it all. And get that final closure that only you can get when you face what you’ve been avoiding. That includes your ex.” 

“I don’t want to go home. My life is here now. I don’t want to go anywhere without you,” Harry’s voice trails off into a whisper, almost as if he feels defeated and weak. “I-I don’t want my ex.” 

“I know you don’t want her, but what you have been hiding from needs your attention. Set yourself free, mend what has been broken.” I pause for a moment. “I have an idea,” I smile and Harry looks at me, unsure of what I have in mind. 

“I love you, but we are not painting any wall of the house again a new colour,” Harry informs me, reminding me of the time I made him channel his emotions through the paint on the wall in my art room. 

“Write a letter, you don’t have to use her name, write a letter and everything you feel, fold it up, then we will throw it into the ocean and let it go. You will let go of the past, you will set yourself free as the ocean washes away the hurt and the pain, the water will wash away the letter but cleanse your soul.” 

Harry stands to his feet with a broad grin spread across his lips, he takes my hand, tenderly drawing me up to meet him. He doesn’t say a word, he keeps his fingers laced with mine and guides us away from his guitar on the sand and invites the two of us closer to the water’s edge. 

Harry’s the first to allow the water to was over his feet and I stand in front of him, hesitant. “It’ll be cold.” 

Harry nods, “That’s how you know you’re still feeling. Trust me.” He encourages and I take the small steps forward, allowing the water to wash over my feet. The coldness takes over my body and rushes through me as I take a deep breath. Oddly enough, he is right, I am feeling. I feel the coldness wash over my feet and wash through my body in a cleansing way. 

Harry reveals the paper in his hand that has the lyrics to the song he finished, “Every song has an end which makes room for a new melody,” Harry crumbles up the paper in his hand before throwing it into the water where it dances between the waves. Harry takes a breath and again flashes me a smile before he looks down at the water at our feet. “I am falling, I have been falling, but in the most electrifying way. As the water cleanses my soul and I release my past, I welcome my future with clarity,,. Will you marry me?” He gets down on one knee, disregarding the water soaking his pants as it washes away the part of him he has been holding in. 

I never thought the falling outcast would be asking to marry the lonely one.

[brwnskin-bunnyteeth]

Golden

A/N: Here it is!! About 2K of gibberish and longing. Hope y’all like this!! I did this as part of @hsogolden ‘s #FineLineFicChallenge. Sorry for the late entry! :-)

summary: heartbreak, Shakespeare, and bars

When she first met Harry, Y/N didn’t know what to make of him. The bar was dark, starlight shining down on a local performing spoken word, the population focused most on the performers and in booths, her friend waving her toward her barstool. Taking in her surroundings, admiring the various vintage posters and shirts that decorated the walls, the exposed brick and homely booths, and the brown-haired bartender that was currently chatting up her friend. 

His hair, curly, a golden brown mess on top of his head, hands decorated with green and yellow nail polish and a spattering of rings, a gaudy dress shirt thrown on them. 

She’d been friends with Dahlia long enough to know that Harry was an ex, someone that she didn’t connect with romantically but claimed he was her “shag soulmate”. But there wasn’t much that she knew about him, just that they were merely friends with benefits at the moment, an arrangement that was largely on hold as long as Dahlia stuck with her current fling. 

His hand reached out to her as she sat down, a dimple appearing on his face, “ ‘m Harry.” 

“ Y/N,” she said, as her hand dwarfed under his large grasp, his fingers calloused, his eyes boring down into her as he nodded and repeated her name as if he were reciting ancient text and couldn’t mess up the pronunciation. Dahlia simply rolling her eyes, ordering a cocktail and shots, and jumping into a work story. 

Harry would join in here and there, chuckling at them. 

 And at times, he’d center his attention to her, head in hand as he intensely listened to her talk, his attention unwavering as cupid’s bow smites at her weary heart. Other moments, he’d be zoned out, listening to the slam poetry and serenades being played by locals and his hands would break the bubble they’d place around themselves whenever he was particularly enraptured. 

 Dahlia would later recant his behavior as normal, that he’d always been so impassioned and affected. Describing him as sensitive and dreamy-eyed.

 The night ended uneventfully after the last of the patrons mulled out at 1 am. Harry calling a cab as he and a coworker closed up. 

Her head full of dizzying thoughts when she was given his number, “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends, better to get this away with”, wide-eyed and just drunk enough to only be able to reply in a stuttering thanks as she drove away. His hand wriggling at her yellow cab, a faint dimple dotting the left side of his face, the sky clear and starry-eyed.

  Waking up, Y/N was greeted with, “ ‘til next time, good night xx. ” to her “ got home safely “ text. They’d only known each other for a night and he already had a hold on her. 

A nice cold shower brings her back to reality, as she scrubs his green eyes and cologne out of her system. His curly brown hair and easy smile invading her senses, butterflies flying about in her chest. It’d been so long, desire and infatuation feeling new and unnatural in her body. But she couldn’t let herself have a girly crush on a man like him, someone as enchanting as him—especially not one who regularly shags her friend. 

Anything romantic was just a figment of her mind, obviously starving for affection and latching onto anyone remotely nice and endearing. He was just a nice guy, one who kept an agonizing gaze on her face whenever she spoke, one who smelled really nice despite working a whole shift at the bar. There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing worth getting attached to.

And yet, it was like her body was punishing her for being away from him, dealing with withdrawals after only meeting him once. Chest hurting as she thought about him.

Two weeks would go by and she’s still thinking of him. She passes by his pub on bus rides and a second always comes where her fingers swipe to his number, yearning to feast her eyes on him again. 

Aphrodite herself would soon take pity on her state this night, Y/N unaware as she walks up the theater steps. Her mood, however, is morose when the night begins. Anxiety eats at her from the inside out, hands wringing as she avoids familiar faces in the theater hall. 

Large posters don the walls, the face of her ex spread out in colossal laminated fashion and staring down at the floor. 

It has been three months since Y/N’d seen him, her heart just as heavy as the day he left. It felt silly, still affected by his frame, still as love-sick, still as devastated. 

He looked good, he was doing well. Memories of auditions and line readings, of all the frustration and dedication and late nights, flood her and she can’t help but be delighted for him. He’d been working hard for so long, and securing a lead role in this play was a dream of his. 

Her ticket arrived after the fight, from when her presence was expected and assumed. And at first, she just ignored it; still too heartbroken to acknowledge his presence without tearing up. But she’d been preparing for this event for so long, too much of her energy wasted on him and this play, that it felt absurd to not at least go and see the damn thing. Even if she wasn’t attached to him anymore, even if she wasn’t even keen on theater. 

Y/N can feel eyes boring into her, a chill moving down her figure as she enters. At this moment, she can tell she’s not going to get through the night without at least one drink if she planned on staying placid. Too many of his friends, his family, and his coworkers occupy the space, people she hasn't spoken to for far too long. She wondered if any of them knew about what happened or if they missed her or if she was even welcomed anymore. 

The bar offers some relief; ordering a chill mojito, she admires the marble counter and intricate chandeliers on the ceiling, her eyes nervously looking around. And when her drink is placed in front of her, she reaches into her wallet, but her actions are interrupted when a familiar voice and ringed hand put some money down.

“Let me take care of that for you, bunty.” 

Y/N can feel her heart jump all the way up her throat, gasping up at his frame and meeting his sparkling emerald eyes for the first time in weeks. She can feel her face warm up, heart beating as he peers down and wraps an arm around the back of her barstool. All she can do for a second is gape and gasp out a small objection, “Harry I-”

But his hand comes up, shaking his head, “No, nope”, dimples protruding as he continues to smile at her. “I’ve got this” he simpers, ordering his own drink and leaning in as other patrons squeeze by to grab a drink before the show. His voice turns sincere, low, when he takes a full hard look at her, “You look nice, really like that color on you”

And she wants to admonish him, wants to push his money away, wants to question his behavior, but his scent envelopes her—feeling fixed under his gaze. Tension fills the air and she’s drawing her eyes over him as well. 

He’s wearing a red patterned vest with an embroidered oxford shirt collar peeking out at the top with the sleeves folded; his pants wide-legged and grayish-blue, loafers brown and heeled. His hair is parted in the middle, and his facial hair has grown, nails painted watermelon red and bright green. Several rings occupy his hands, and a pearl necklace winks at her from his neck and she breathes out a light, “So do you” before chasing her drink. 

He’s laughing now, music to her ears, and she wants to bottle it up and save it for later. The two of them take another glance at each other, grins on their faces, silence falling as they take sips of their drinks. 

The play begins after they make their way to their seats, the objection of her despair taking the stage. Seeing him for the first time in weeks affects her more than she realized it would. 

Y/N knew heartbreak. At age 13, she experienced her first. As a cruel joke, the second hottest boy in her grade level pulled her to the side and kissed her, called her sexy, all for a dare, to win $40 for kissing a pig. He’d stolen her first kiss, playing with her emotions for forty fucking dollars. Her first reaction was to kick him in the nuts. And it gave her some relief, but tears still stung her cheeks, his pain doing nothing to soothe the heartache he inflicted on her.

She spent the rest of the night hiding in the bathroom, too ashamed to tell her parents, too broken to even speak of the incident. Weeks later, a new boy from New York tells her that he fancies her, well all she could do was laugh. How could someone as cool and cute as him like her?  Her heart hardened then, the first of many betrayals. 

So when she met Benji, she let herself settle, let herself be taken in by the conceited prick who didn’t deserve her love. They’d been together for almost two years but had known each other longer, Benji’s mom running a daycare next door. And she’d loved Benji, still did. 

But, sitting there next to Harry, a thought occurred to her. Here is Benji, performing and doing an amazing and inspiring performance in front of industry folk. The fruits of his labor were finally blooming. Yet, she had little to show for those two years. It felt like a waste of her time, her youth. All of her focus was on him, not her. 

She felt disgusted, her eyes wetting up and shooting daggers in his direction, his eyesight blinded by the stage lights. She thought she’d gone through the worst of it, that she was done crying, and yet tears threatened to fall down her cheeks—-stomach churning and leg antsy. Why did she drag herself down here? What did she think was going to happen? Was he supposed to realize that he was wrong for cheating on her, for dumping her, and welcome her back in? Was that really what she wanted?

The Shakespearean play continued in the foreground, Y/N slipping into what felt like a panic attack. Her heart dug at her chest, her feet propping her back up and leading her through the double doors. 

The lobby is empty, one patron sitting at the bar, the play muffled but continuing in the background. Y/N feels the cold air and is granted with relief, head still spinning with negativity. Not a minute passes before the orchestra is unmuffled, the doors opening and showcasing Harry. He chases after her, concern on his face. 

She feels embarrassed, embarrassed for him to see her like this, embarrassed to have made a scene. She turns to tell him to leave her alone when she’s engulfed in his arms, head resting on hers. 

“You alright?”, his voice whispers as his arms rub her back, earnestly trying to calm her down. He’s looking at her, his eyes looking her up and down, trying to identify anything concerning. She’s humiliated, clutching onto his body like a toddler, internally deciding if she wanted to tell him everything. When she looks into his eyes, her lips detach from her teeth, and she tells him as much as he needs to know. 

While she explains everything, he’s nodding, his face serious as his hands continue to rub her shoulders and back. He squeezes her tighter, his eyebrows furrowing as he takes in everything. He’s so quiet that Y/N can’t help but feel as though she shared too much. That he was only pretending to care, being a friend of a friend. But then he’s grabbing her shoulders, voice tight, as he speaks up, “Y/N, he’s a dick. He’s an absolute prick, and he doesn’t deserve to be cried over. I’m so sorry he hurt you like that.” He’s letting out a breath, anguish appearing on his face, as he continues, “you are not hard to love. the right people will love you because of who you are, not despite you. you're worthy of that love, and I don’t know if I should be the one to give that to you, but I like you. And I’d like to try and be the one to give that to you.”

Harry’s gripping her hands now, the weight of his words affecting her as she searches his face for any deceit. She tries to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish, pursing her lips as she gathers her bearings. “Harry, that’s...I don’t know what to say.” 

Mind racing as her mind begins to warp and twist his words. She’s rejecting his statement, mind unfurling and rejecting him.

He can feel her pull away, can see her do the mental gymnastics to reject his words, wracking his brain for some way to convince her otherwise. “I get that you’re scared. Rightly should be. But, you deserve happiness. I want to help you get over this talentless jerk. Wanna mend your broken heart.” 

His hands move to her jaw, bringing her closer and boring into her eyes, “I know I’m acting pathetic, bunty, you’re just so striking that I haven’t been able to go a day without thinking of you. You’ve got me under control, have since you walked into my bar. I can’t imagine the thought of anyone else when I’ve got you right here.”

The air is charged, their bodies close to one another, eyes faced squarely on each other. Y/N can feel her heartbeat out of her chest, hands trembling on his biceps. His face is backlit by the golden chandeliers of the lobby, the only other sounds either muffled or clinking glass bottles. 

He’s right, she’s scared. Scared of getting her heartbroken all over again, of being used by yet another man in her life. And yet, she wants to give in. His green eyes are tracing her features and she’s never before felt as snug and protected like this. 

The space between them closes and his nose slides against her, her eyes fluttering closed before softly responding, “I don’t know what to think. You’re so bare, so frank, that it’s scary. How do I know that you won’t do the same as him?”

Harry kisses her. He presses his lips against hers, their bodies pressed closer than ever, eyes shut, as they both enjoy the moment. Harry kisses her like his life depends on it, her jaw in his hands. He kisses her like no one else has ever done. She’s breathless as she chases after him, want increasing by the second. Arms reach his neck and pull at his hair, his grip on her back as the kiss deepens. 

Every fiber of her being is telling her to stop, that she shouldn’t trust him, that he’s just another smooth talker. But she can’t stop. His intoxifying taste has pulled her in, too drunk on his words and actions to even care anymore. 

Pulling away, his lips follow, until Y/N is pushing him back. Her hands rest on his shoulders as the two share moony-eyed looks. Catching her breath, thumb reaching to rub off a bit of her lipstick from his lips, Y/N drops her hands to his. She pulls his arm, his body following after her as she heads for the door, eyes hooded, “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

Harry smiles, dimples jutting out, as he nods and pulls her in for one last knee-wobbling kiss, as they head out the door and into the golden sunset. 

[tobesobri]

With Harry’s new album released (and assuming we’ve all had time to listen to it), I thought it would be a great opportunity to collect a bunch of stories from various writers on tumblr to celebrate it. So, for this challenge, if you’d like to participate, you’ll be writing a one-shot based off of one of the songs from Fine Line!

how to participate:

choose (1) song off of Fine Line you’d like to base your story around (it can be as literal or abstract as you want; it can be based off of one single lyric in the song, just the title, or the whole thing; it can be based off of a music video or live performance of the song; it can be literally any type of plot you want as long as it somehow connects to the song)

fill out this form with both your song choice and your tumblr URL where you’ll be posting your story (if you want me to post your story on my blog, pls message me!)

write your story! you do not have to wait for me to get back to you, as long as you fill out the form before the deadline, you’re good!

post your story on your blog and use the tag #FineLineFicChallenge and tag me (@tiostyles) so I can easily find your story!

what are the rules?

the title of your story must be the song you chose (you can also have a subtitle if you want)

you must fill out the form to enter no later than December 26 (11:59pm PST). If you don’t submit a form, your story will not be included on the challenge masterlist and I will not reblog it to add it to the tag on my blog (sorry i’m just trying to keep things organized 😬)

you need to have a brief summary (1-2 sentences) of your story. You can include this when you post your story, or send it to me.

your story has to be Harry-centric and at least 1,000 words (no maximum)

and finally in order to be officially included in this challenge, you have to post your story on or before February 1, 2020 (11:59pm PST).

🌸click the read more for more information, but I hope to see a lot of writers getting involved and creating wonderful things from this album! thank you if you choose to enter and I can’t wait to read what you all come up with! (if you have any questions, send them here.)

other things to know:

multiple people will be writing for one song because I think it will be interesting to see how everyone interprets the songs differently.

you can collaborate with others on your story, either as co-authors or beta reading.

you can post sneak peaks to your story on your blog if you want.

if you’d like to change your song, you have to message me about it! If the song you end up writing about doesn’t match what’s on the form you filled out, it will not be included. so. just message me if you want to change it!

if you enter and for whatever reason end up not being able to post your story, don’t worry about it! I want this to be fun so please don’t stress over it!

if you need any help along the way (if you need a graphic to go along with your story, if you need someone to bounce ideas off of, if you need someone to read over your story, etc.) please feel free to message me at anytime before February 1!

i will be creating the masterlist after the form closes on December 26 and will publish it as soon as the first story is posted (it will have the list of songs and then your URLs with a link to your story and eventual brief summary)

it’s pretty much all up to you guys, you can write anything from like a college AU or even a more simple boyfriend!harry OU or literally demon!harry if it somehow fits lol but basically, it doesn’t need to be super complicated, I just want to do something to celebrate the album among the writers here on tumblr and have a collection of all sorts of stories. so have fun with it!

things not allowed:

rape, explicit sexual assault/harassment

explicit physical or emotional abuse (to clarify, this doesn’t mean you can’t write an argument, but I do not want to see toxic relationships being glorified)

explicit details of suicide or self-harm

there might be more, so if you feel unsure about something, please message me!

if you have any questions about anything please message me! there might be things I left out so don’t hesitate to ask!