YOU FLOWER, YOU FEAST

“Maybe we get out of here early?” You whispered in Harry’s ear, causing his body to perk up. He hastfully nodded his head and led you to the door.

Your pace only quickened as you raced up the stairs of your dorm room building, hand in hand. As you fumbled with your keys to unlock your door, Harry kissed every square inch of your neck.

“Laila’s not going to be here right?” He asked in between kisses, referring to your roommate.

“She’s still at the party…but we don’t have all the time in the world.” You replied as you opened the door, making sure to lock it behind you.

His lips were immediately on your as the lock on the door clicked.

He turned you around, pushing you onto the bed with a gentle force that made you gasp. The red dress you wore clung to your skin as he yanked it up, exposing you to the coolness of the room. His hands traced the curve of your waist, his thumbs hooking into the lacy thong that barely covered your dripping pussy. He pulled it down your legs, tossing it aside.

He dropped to his stomach on the bed as his eyes took in the sight before him, your legs shaking with anticipation. Harry leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed the inside of your thigh. You whimpered, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. His tongue flicked out, tasting your sweetness as he moved closer to the center of your need. He took his time, teasing the sensitive skin around your pussy, making you beg for more.

As his tongue touched your clit, you gripped his shoulders, stopping him. "Wait," You panted. "You wanna grab the grab the camera"

A cheeky smile spread across Harry's face as he pulled back. "My little slutty girl," he murmured "Always thinking about the fans, huh?”

You bit your lip, unable to resist the urge to watch him as he stood up and grabbed the o camera from your bedside table. You knew it would take a few minutes to set up the tripod and get the perfect angle, but Harry looked too good to not capture him. The bulge in his black jeans was impossible to ignore, straining against the fabric as he moved around the room. You could see his excitement growing with every step, and the anticipation was making your stomach churn.

Finally, the camera was ready, the red light blinking at you from the corner of the room. Harry crawled back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he positioned himself between your legs. He leaned in, his tongue tracing the outline of your pussy before delving in like he was starving. You felt like you could melt into the mattress as he ate you, his mouth and tongue working in harmony to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you rocked your hips to meet his eager mouth.

He stopped, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing smirk. "You're going to have to be quiet, baby," he whispered, his voice thick. "We are still in your dorm room, remember?"

You nodded, a mix of excitement and embarrassment flushing your cheeks. Harry leaned in and kissed you deeply. He pulled away and whispered, "But I know how much you like it when they can hear you."

You pushed him off of you and sat up. Harry's eyes stayed in you with surprise and intrigue as he took in your newfound assertiveness. You slid off the bed, the white cowgirl boots making a satisfying sound as they hit the floor. Though they gave you a little confidence you slid them off and threw them aside. You strutted over to the camera, your hips swaying with each step, and turned it on. Your red dress clung to your body, your nipples hard and visible through the fabric as you faced Harry with a sultry look.

"Why don't you hold this for a while?" You handed him the camera. You watched him, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you, the lust in them making you even wetter. Harry took the camera, his grip tight as he looked at you through the viewfinder. "You want to show them how good of a little slut I can be for you?" You whispered, your voice low and seductive.

With a smile and a nod from Harry, you straddled him, your knees pushing into the bed on either side of his hips. Your red dress hiked up around your waist, giving him a perfect view of your bare pussy as you reached down to unbutton his jeans. You slid your hands into his boxers, gripping his cock firmly. It was already hard, the heat of it pulsing against your palm.

He groaned as you began to stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate. His eyes never left yours, the camera forgotten in his hand as he took in the sight of you, dressed but still open and exposed to him. You leaned forward, your breasts pressing against his thigh, your ass up in the air, and took his cock into your mouth.

You could feel him swell in your mouth as you worked him, your tongue swirling around his tip as you sucked. The taste of him filled your mouth, making you want to moan around his length. But you held back, knowing you were supposed to be quiet. Instead, you let out little whimpers of pleasure, muffled by his cock, that seemed to drive him even more wild.

His eyes were heavy with pleasure as you deep-throated him, your hands playing with his balls. His grip on your hair tightened, guiding you faster, pushing you down further until you could feel his cock hit the back of your throat, his breath becoming heavy.

But just as you felt him get to the edge, you pulled away, leaving his cock covered with your saliva. You straddled him again, this time with your dress still rucked up around your waist. He watched as you took his cock in your hand and positioned it at your entrance. Without a word, you sank down onto him, taking him inch by inch.

His hand immediately came to your thigh to guide you through your slow motions. Without even realizing it, your whimpers became louder, moans began to leave your mouth. "What did I say baby?" You ignored his demand for your quietness, his cock feeling too good inside of you.

Instead you lowered the straps of your dress, letting your braless breasts become exposed to him (a part of you thinking they may even distract him from your increasingly loud moans).

Harry's eyes slightly widened as he took in the sight, his cock twitching in response. You began to bounce on him, your tits bouncing in sync with your movements. His hands shot up to cup them, his thumbs brushing against your sensitive nipples as he filmed you.

You leaned forward, taking his hand and bringing it to your mouth. You sucked on his thumb, your eyes never leaving his as you did so.

As you watched his face express how much pleasure he was in, you felt the need to up the ante. You pulled off of him. Almost causing Harry to protest until he saw the determined look on your face.

You leaned forward, taking his cock and placing it between your tits. You started to titty-fuck him, the wetness of your pussy smearing across your skin as you did so. His moans grew louder as you squeezed your tits together around his cock.

You knew that this was a move that always got him off (and your viewers definitely appreciated it as well), so you made sure to keep it going until he was right on the edge. But you didn't stop there. You leaned down and took his cock in your mouth again, sucking hard as you continued to pump him with your tits. Harry's hand found its way back to your hair, pushing you down further as he started to thrust up into your mouth.

“So fucking good, Y/N. Perfect girl.”

You felt him get closer and closer to the edge, but just as you knew he was about to cum, you pulled away. Harry groaned in frustration, his hand slipping from your hair as he tried to catch his breath. You gave him a wicked smile as you lifted yourself up. You turned around and straddled him again, this time, you were facing away from him.

You hiked up your dress, revealing the perfect roundness of your ass, and slammed back down onto his cock. Harry's hands shot out to grab onto your hips to keep you steady. You leaned forward, placing your hands on the bed as you began to ride him in reverse, the camera capturing every bounce and jiggle of your ass.

"Going to be the star of the show tonight, hmm?" Harry murmured, his voice tight with need. You didn't answer, your mind focusing on your body and his pleasure. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, and it made you want to go even faster. But you held back, enjoying the slow, torturous pace.

You heard him place the camera on the nightstand, pointing towards you and him, so he could have more hands on your body. Your pace quickened dramatically, almost like a reward for him for choosing to focus on you.

Though, your body began to tire quickly, your thighs burned, your thrusts became slower and shorter. Harry could see your weakness spreading.

“Where’s my confident girl? Getting tired?” He teased in a dominant way, causing you to mentally roll your eyes.

“No…just teasin’ you.” You mumbled, fully knowing you were lying to him. He caught on and grabbed your stomach to slowly lean you back onto him.

You succumbed, pressing your back into his chest and he held you in place. His hands found your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples until you were crying out. The camera sat just above your head, recording every moment of your passion. You looked over your shoulder, watching him watch you, his eyes filled with lust.

You reached and grabbed his hand, bringing it down to your clit. "Want you to make me feel good," you whispered, your voice soft but thick with innocence and desire. Harry's eyes never left yours as he began to rub your clit in tight circles, his other hand still kneading your breast. Your hips began to rock back and forth, fucking yourself on his cock as he pleasured you.

“God, Harry…I love it so much.” You moaned out.

“Yeah, baby? Like fucking yourself on my cock?” His lips brushed against your ear, you kept your eyes pinched closed and nodded your head.

The sound of your moans filled the room, no longer muffled by the need for quiet and discretion. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, and you could feel the tension building in your core. Your moans grew louder, turning into cries of pleasure that echoed off the walls of the small dorm room. You have lost full control now, letting Harry and his thrusts control everything you did.

You felt the bed shake beneath you as Harry picked up his pace, his breathing turning ragged as he neared his own climax. The pressure was building, and you could tell he was getting close. But you weren't far behind. Harry's grip on your hips tightened, his own moans filling the room as he drove into you deeper and harder.

You leaned back into Harry's embrace, his hands roaming your body as he whispered dirty encouragements into your ear. "I know, baby...let go. Let that pretty pussy squeeze my cock."

The friction of his fingers against your clit was too much. You threw your head back and screamed out your release, your body shuddering with the intensity of the orgasm that crashed through you. You felt Harry's grip tighten, his own moans becoming more erratic as he felt your walls clench around him.

"You okay?" Harry asked, his thrusts halting to comfort you. Your head nodded in haste as your body was able to quickly recover from the powerful orgasm.

"M'gonna flip you over sweetie, get a shot of your pretty back with my cum on it."

You nodded, feeling a thrill run down your spine. He carefully flipped you onto your stomach, your dress now bunched up around your waist. You felt his cock slip out of you with a wet sound, and you knew he was close. Harry's hand as it gripped the base of his cock. You slowly started to grind your ass against him, slow circles on his thighs to help encourage the thrusts from his hand.

"Fuck, Baby," Harry groaned, his grip tightening on your hip. Your whimpers continued though you were not receiving any pleasure.

He painted your back with his cum as his release came. He watched it dribble down your spine, mesmerized by the sight, he reached for the camera. He adjusted the angle, capturing your ass still glistening from your own arousal, then panned to your painted back. His cheeky smirk grew as he took a step back to film your entire body.

"Maybe I won't clean you up," Harry murmured, his voice low and full of dark promise. "I'll just keep you like this, with your pretty wet pussy and my cum on your back, for everyone to see." You laughed and lightly kicked his leg.

He turned the camera off, deciding to go against his idea and grabbed a rag to wet in the sink before coming over to clean you. Once his cum was clean from your back, he helped you and your knees, which were beginning to sore, flip onto your back. As he continued to clean you up, your body became light and your eyes were heavy.

“Tired from all the riding you were doing?” Harry asked, your tired eyes staying closed as you laughed.

“I haven’t done that much work in a while.” You joked. Harry threw the washcloth into your dirty laundry and leaned forward to brush your hair away and kiss you.

“I know, the little pillow princess is all tired out from taking control.” You both chuckled as Harry continued to soothingly run his hand in your hair. “Let's get you out of this dress, cowgirl.”

Tags:

“Harryyy.” You said, drawing out his name. “I wanna keep kissing you.” You tugged on his shirt, hoping to get back to where you were and leaned down to kiss his neck.

“We can keep this on.” He whispered, gesturing to his phone, you both stared at each other for a moment. He leaned over to place his phone on the nightstand, propping it up against his water bottle, the camera pointing towards the bed. “Is this okay?”

You slowly nodded your head, “You’re not going to go around showing this to all your frat buddies, are you?”

“Hell no, this is only for me.” You knew he was telling you the truth, not only because you trusted him, but because you knew he wasn’t wasn’t the stereotypical frat boy—going around showing intimate photos of his girlfriend to everyone.

You leaned down again, going back to kissing him, his hands immediately finding their way back to your ass. He flipped you over, still being careful in the smaller bed. His hand traveled up your shirt, feeling every inch of your chest.

As he began to lift up your shirt you stopped him, remembering the camera pointed at the both of you. “Are we going to keep recording?” You smiled, looking up at him.

“We’ll do whatever you want, baby. Do you want to keep recording? Get your pretty face on camera, taking my cock?”

That was the first time you made a sex tape together. And it definitely wasn’t the last.

It was almost three times a week that you would film yourselves. There was something about it that was so exciting and sexy. It was a deeply intimate and vulnerable moment between you two and filming it to watch over and over again made it much more fun for some reason. It was very casual though, you weren't worried about getting certain shots, about anyone viewing it, it was just two University students filming themselves for fun.

Until it wasn’t.

You couldn’t remember who suggested you upload the videos to PornHub, but you do remember sitting on his bed in his frat house, watching the video slowly upload to the website.

“I can still cancel it, if you want to change your mind.” He reminded you.

But you didn’t cancel it, you both watched it upload with no regret in sight. You stared at the video for minutes, watching the view count. When the number went from 0 to 1 you both jumped. Someone just watched you two have sex.

Though it wasn’t your initial intention to make money from this, when you woke up to 100,000 views on your first video, after going to bed with under 50, and 20,000 subscribers, it wasn’t a conversation you could avoid. You were two broke students who needed extra money…and now you could get that by just having sex.

“I mean it’s not a bad idea…we’ve already made 100 dollars, for one video.” You said, pacing back and forth in your dorm room while Harry sat on your bed. “I guess I just worry about people finding out…our friends, our parents…that’s the only thing I worry about.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Fuck ‘em.” He shifted to the edge of the bed and grabbed your arm to pull you closer. “We’re making good money just off one video, we’re not showing our faces, it would be a wasted opportunity. Who cares what other people think, assuming they’d ever even find out.”

“I know……but we can’t tell anyone, if they find out, they find out, but let’s just try to keep it a secret as long as possible.”

Harry gave you a kiss, letting his lips linger on yours for a moment, until he moved to your jawbone, then your neck.

“Plus, I’ve been enjoying having these…..watching my pretty girl get fucked whenever I want…and you’re so good on camera, you’re a natural. You’re pretty moans…pushing your beautiful tits together, I want people to watch us, knowing I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”

So you continued making videos. You still weren’t worried about the quality, it was the only art form where people were quite content with quantity over quality.

You still didn’t show your faces, only shooting videos from the neck down as he fucked you in missionary, setting the camera up behind you as you were riding him, and yet, people loved it.

You were getting millions of views per video with thousands of comments…people were actually taking the time to create an account and comment on a porn video for you guys. They loved how gentle Harry was with you while also being dominant, how he praised you, gave you the best aftercare, sometimes even stopping before his orgasm to cuddle with you and help you come down from yours. They loved your moans and how you knew how to be a perfect mix of sweet and sexy.

Comments (1.3k)

User497063848:

i’ve never commented on a video before but i created an account just to let you know how perfect this video is 👍

KeeponWorking0527

I need a relationship like this. You two are perfect.

cherryangel444

he is sooooo hot,,,she is very lucky

Keepcumming8742

→ HE is the lucky one she has such a perfect body

It wasn’t long until you felt like porn celebrities.

You were constantly being featured on the home page, people in your comments were begging for more videos minutes after you just posted…but most of all, they were dying to see your faces.

“I mean…it’s not a horrible idea, and a lot of people are demanding it.” Harry pointed out, as you debated whether or not to reveal your identities.

“But it’s also something we can’t take back…once our faces are out there, they’re out there forever.”

“That’s true…but is that such a bad thing? We'll make so much more money if we use our names and show our faces, that we'll be rich enough to just disappear if we end up regretting it.” Harry replied, knowing that pornstars who had a face to their content make way more money than anonymous performers. “We could buy a house in the Italian countryside as retired pornstars.”

You laughed as he outlined your future together. “This is something you’ve thought about a lot?”

“Of course I have, the only thing I’ve been worrying about since we started dating is how we’re going to comfortably spend the rest of our lives together, and we’re making a fuck ton of money…this is the only time that weight hasn’t been on my shoulders.”

You looked at him softly, not knowing he had been stressing over your future together. You would be lying if you said your life hadn’t improved once you became sex workers. Not having to worry about tuition, food, finances after graduating, you felt liberated.

“Let’s show our faces then.”

For your next video, not only did you show your faces but you upgraded everything. You went from iPhones to a professional camera and microphones, capturing the perfect shots and noises of each position.

You decided to film in Harry’s bedroom at his frat house while all his friends were at some party at a sorority. You could be as open and loud as you wanted. You swapped out Harry’s gray and navy blue sheets for some pretty florals that matched well with your lingerie.

Harry set up the camera on a tripod at the side of the bed as you waited on the bed, sitting on your heels. Once he hit the record he walked over to you, his hands immediately finding your hips and pulling you close.

“Tell me if you want to stop, or if you need a break, whatever you need.”

You nodded and smashed your lips onto his, eager to make your video. His hands roamed your entire body to highlight each feature for the camera.

“You look so sexy, I love this set.” He complimented you, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

“I figured I needed to wear my best for the special occasion.” You cheekily replied, pulling him down with you as you threw your bra aside and layed down on your back.

It wasn’t long until the camera was off the tripod and in Harry’s hand, filming you as he hovered above you, running his hands up your stomach and kneeding your breasts.

“So perfect.” He whispered, admiring your body.

His hands slowly fell to your panties, hooking his fingers in the waistband and pulling them down. Teasing you, his fingers danced around your pussy, but never touching where you wanted him to.

“mmm, please Harry.” You whined, trying to roll your hips into his fingers. It felt odd to say his name on camera, which you had previously avoided doing.

“Okay, baby, I’ve got you.” He finally slid two fingers inside of you, causing you to let out a heavy breath and continue to roll your hips as he curled his fingers upward.

“So good, Harry.”

Your fingers found the waistband of his briefs in between your legs and pulled them down. As his cock sprang out you grabbed it and started to slowly jerk him off.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask, looking up at him and the camera.

You both definitely played up your sexuality when you were filming, because you knew how porn worked, but what made people like you so much is that it was still natural and realistic, it never crossed the line of being theatrical.

“Do you need to ask, pretty baby?” You gave him a satisfactory smile and shifted to where he was sitting on the bed, still holding the camera, and you sat on your knees in front of him.

You grabbed his cock again, using your mouth and lips to lick and kiss along his entire shaft. Your eyes stayed on him, and the lense of the camera, most of the time, giving them a seductive look.

“Such a perfect cock sucker.” Harry ogled, switching between looking directly at you and through the camera.

Your mouth found his tip, preparing him and yourself before lowering your mouth down repeatedly. You moaned as you pleased his cock, another thing your viewers loved. From your very first videos they would comment how you seemed to love Harry’s cock by your repetitive hums and moans as it was in your mouth.

FranksPH1985

Listen to how much she moans while his dick is in her mouth, she looks so perfect.

lovelylovely<3

her moaning every time he praises her as she sucks him 😩 you are such a cute couple!! 💞

User29394682031

She sucks him off like it’s her favorite pastime. Lucky man.

You eventually found yourself back on the bed, laying down in the same position you were prior, laying down on your back. This time, you held the camera as he laid down in between your legs.

He peppered kisses on your inner thighs until his mouth found your clit, giving an initial lick before lapping and sucking at it. Your free hand grabbed his hair, gripping and pulling as he pleasured you.

“Oh, fuck, Harry, that’s so fucking good.” You cried, lifting your hips up and down, unable to stay still.

“Yeah? You like your pussy licked sweet baby?” You moaned in response. He lifted one of your legs, pushing it to your chest to get better access as his motions sped up.

“Need you to fuck me, please Harry.” You said after a couple minutes, knowing you wouldn’t last much longer, but wanted to cum on his cock.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

He got off the bed and grabbed the tripod, placing it on the other side of the bed, focused on you two.

“Flip over, let me see you on your knees.” He requested in a dominant tone, helping you flip over.

He dragged his cock up and down against you as a way to tease you, which worked. You whimpered out impatiently, causing him to lay a light slap to your ass.

“Be patient baby, you’ll get my cock eventually, no need to be a whiney girl.”

He finally slid himself into you and pushed his entire length in, causing you to slightly wince. His pace was very quick from the get go, causing a string of long moans to repetitively leave your mouth.

“Uh huh, fuck Harry…please keep going.”

He stayed quiet, focusing on slamming his hips into your ass. You struggled to hold yourself up as he pounced into you, both your arms and legs almost giving out at his fast pace.

Your stomach began to churn, a familiar warmness beginning to fill your stomach. Then suddenly, right as you were nearing your orgasm, his thrusts drastically stopped, causing your breathing to hitch. As he started to move again, his thrusts stayed slow, feeling like there were minutes in between each one.

Taking matters into your own hands, after silent whines didn’t work, you started to back yourself into him, hoping to get as close to your orgasm as you once were. Harry immediately stopped you, roughly grabbed your hips and pulled you into him, bottoming himself out in you.

You cried out as you felt his long cock reach the deepest it could go.

“Shhh, shhh, stop baby.” He told you, leaning down to wrap an arm around you and talk in your ear. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me fuck you how I want? Or do we need to stop?”

“I’ll be good…please, I was about to cum Harry.” You complied. He gave you a kiss on the cheek before leaning back up.

“I know baby, I know. We’ll get you there.”

After continuing working on an extremely slow pace from behind, he turned you around, so you were still on your hands and knees, but now facing him. Taking your chin in his hand, he looked down at you.

“Can you suck my dick again?” He kindly asked. You almost laughed, this was one of his ways he liked to edge you, roughly work on you until you were so close to climaxing, then take all the attention off you. You can’t say you didn’t mind it, it made the orgasm 10x, and your viewers sure didn’t mind.

“You’re so mean.” You sarcastically said, trying to hide your smile.

“Oh, I know, so mean.” He replied, pouting his lip.

You grabbed his cock again, giving it all your attention, knowing that would get him back to fucking you sooner. Your ass stayed in the air, almost as if you were trying to entice him. And it definitely worked as he leaned forward to move his cock farther into your throat and to grab a handful of your ass.

Once you couldn’t take it anymore, you kissed up his abdomen, coming and crawling toward him.

“Please Harry.” You begged, leaning in to kiss him with your pouty lip. “I’ve only asked nicely, and I’ve been good.”

“I know you have baby, you’ve been so good. Why don’t you lay down for me, hmm? On your back.”

You didn’t hesitate. You placed your back on bed and opened your legs as if there was no time to waste.

“Let’s grab you a pillow, make sure you’re comfy.” He grabbed a pillow and placed it under your head. Once you were finally situated, his thrusts went back to a steadily fast past.

Harry placed one of your legs on his shoulder, holding the other one at his side as he watched your breast bounce at the rhythm of his thrusts.

“So fucking pretty…I love watching you.” He admired you. You didn’t reply, letting your repeated moans speak for themselves.

“Harry, ‘m so close.” You cried out, arching your back.

“Let go baby, wanna feel you squeeze my cock.” He encouraged you.

You reached back, grabbing a fistful of your pillow and letting your mouth fall open in pleasure . Your stomach twisted again until you reached your peak, your orgasm erupting through you. It was almost like you blackedout from how powerful it was. You squeezed your eyes shut as all the sound around you was shut out.

Your breathing was heavy as you came down, like you had just run 5 miles. Harry’s pace slowed again, letting your now sensitive body rest.

“Need a break, baby?” This was the question he always asked after bringing you to an orgasm, knowing they could be quite powerful. It was something both you and your fans found endearing (and hot).

cycybaby1999

notice how he immediately checks in on her after she cums? 🥺 take notes men!

CherryLoved

The hottest thing a man can do is give you aftercare before he finishes. Y’all are so perf. 🫶

He pulled himself out of you, laid beside you and pulled you into his chest. He gently rubbed your back and rested his lips on your head.

“My legs are so shaky.” You noticed, smiling into his chest.

He chucked, looking down at your trembling limbs. “Poor girl,” He kissed your head and continued to help you come down. You felt your eyes become heavy, Harry’s now steady heart putting you to sleep. “All done?” He questioned, still rubbing your back.

“No, no, I wanted you to cum on my face.” He chuckled at your blatant vulgarity. “I thought it would be a good shot for our face reveal.”

You kneeled back down on the floor as Harry grabbed the camera again. You spit in your hand and began rubbing his shaft, using a mix of your spit and cum to get him off. The camera picked up Harry’s heavy, now unsteady, breathing as his orgasm approached.

He freed one of his hands and held the back of your hair before cumming all over your face. He took a moment to let the camera capture the white fluid that laid on your lips, cheek, and forehead.

After Harry gave you his sweet aftercare and stopped filming, you both cleaned up before getting back into his bed.

“That was so perfect, baby.” He complimented you as you rested against his chest, wearing one of his shirts and his sweatpants. “You still want to upload it?” He asked, clarifying once again.

“Of course, I think people will really like it…At least I did.”

Three days later, the video was uploaded and quickly became your highest viewed video, and the comments overwhelmingly positive.

Finally doing a face reveal!!! | HARRY & Y/N

CherryLoved

OMG??? YOU GUYS ARE WAY HOTTER THAN I IMAGINED?!?!

User29394682031

Never thought I’d see this day. Very hot.

lovelylovely<3

you guys are sooooo cute 😩😩😩 im going to love watching you even more now!!!

cycybaby1999

damn girl, you are so gorg !!!

FranksPH1985

Big day for horny people.

You would open your computer every morning and read all the wonderful comments you were getting, which motivated you to make more and more videos.

“This is crazy…we’re going to become sex fiends after this.” You joked as you sat in his bed.

“So not much will change.” He joked back.

As you continued to read through each comment, your phone dinged from the nightstand. It was a text from your roommate.

Laila

Are you and Harry pornstars?

Tag List!

“so,” you say, lips curled into a glossy smile as you look down at the crowd of people. of your people. your fans all screaming and cheering as you giggled quietly. “i wanna do something tonight that i haven’t done before,”

the screams are overwhelming, for a moment you have to pause, blinking against the soft pink light that had fallen across the stage.

“you all know i’ve been writing songs for a while…” you trail off, winking at the camera before you, “and sometimes not all the songs i write make it into the albums,”

the screaming gets louder, you could see two girls clutching each other in the front row, tear dripping down the cheeks. a large sign in their grasp that read ‘release juno or we’ll kidnap harry’

“but… there are a couple songs that have been leaked that i know you all enjoy,” you laugh, “so, london tonight, please, enjoy tonight as i sing ‘juno’ live for the first time !”

the backing track began to play as a spotlight suddenly fell on you, you stuck your earpiece in. shielding the sound of the screams as you brought the microphone to your lips.

don’t have to tell your hot ass a thing oh, yea you just get it

your backup dancers all surround you as you prance around the stage, a mix of choreography and just letting loose as you sing your little song. eyes locking on the box where you know harry is currently watching you.

whole package, babe, i like the way you fit

you find yourself giggling as you sing, while this song had been leaked on the internet months ago harry had never heard the full song. he knew bits and pieces but for the most part you had kept it hidden. and with how chronically offline your boyfriend was it wasn’t hard to not have him know about this song.

you couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿

harry loved watching his girlfriend perform. adored the way she looked on stage, all flirty smiles and fluttering lashes. clad in little outfits of glitter and lace, looking like an absolute dream while he stood and stared. completely enthralled by her.

it had been a while since harry had got the pleasure of watching you on stage, but right now you were all he could think about. his lips twisted into a stupidly loving smile as he listened to you talk to the audience about singing an unreleased song.

the song started out gentle, a little flirty and fun, but the more you sang harry’s jaw began to drop.

his pretty little pop star girlfriend dancing around the stage singing about him… about what she wanted to do to him.

oh, late at night i’m thinkin’ bout you, ah wanna try out my fuzzy pink hand cuffs?

he grinned, remembering the day you had walked into the bedroom, face glowing, a pair of fluffy pink hand cuffs in your hold.

“look what i found,” you giggled, swinging them around your fingertips. harry laughed, sitting up and running a hand through his mess of curly brown locks.

“you wanna handcuff me, pretty girl?” he asked, raising a brow that had your cheeks flushing, bottom lip sticking out slightly in a pretty little pout.

“i was actually hoping you would use them on me,” you said, a grin suddenly appearing on your lips.

harry had you on the bed in a matter of seconds.

i know you want my touch for life if you love me right, then who knows? i might let you make me juno

you winked at the crowd, kicking your leg up in a little flick and harry felt himself harden beneath his jeans.

he had watched juno for the first time with you, it was one of your all time favourite films and after you started dating harry you had forced him to watch every movie you deemed unmissable. but in all the times he had watched it he had never imagined you up on stage like this.

telling the world that you might let him fill you up and round your stomach with his baby. he had to bite back a groan.

one of me is cute, but two though? give it to me, baby

you and harry had talked about having children before, it was something you saw in the long run. a future dream that you wouldn’t dare touch during such active careers and touring that had you two apart for months at a time sometimes.

but you were there, singing about it. a smirk painted on your lips and harry could swear you were looking right at him.

harry wanted to tear that little outfit from your body and fuck you full of his cum until he was sure it had taken.

wanna try out some freaky positions?

he watched as you did a little run before dropping to your knees along the platform that lead you into the crowd.

have you ever tried this one?

you were on your knees, as though you were straddling someone, and he watched as you fucking bounced, swinging your arm around like a cowgirl holding a lasso before you winked.

harry was so fucking gone.

his dick was rock hard beneath his jeans, straining uncomfortably against the fabric as he watched you brush a hand through your hair, flicking back a mess of curls and giggling as you continued to sing.

before harry you had never ridden anyone, it was something you confessed late one night after one too many glasses of wine for the both of you.

that night you had bounced on his cock so prettily. tears streaming down your face, as harry held a tight grip on your hips, guiding you as you gasped and winked at the fullness of his dick plunging straight against your cervix.

“fuck, pretty girl, look so gorgeous riding my cock,” harry groaned, leaning up and latching his lips around one of your pert nipples that had you clenching around him.

“feels so good,” you whimpered, rocking your hips, chasing that delicious release that crawled up your spine.

“made for this, baby, made to ride cock,” harry groaned against your tits, “come on, wanna see you come all over me, pretty, fuck,”

your head fell backwards, gasping with pleasure as you tried to keep a steady rhythm, but with barry so deep inside of you, you couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, all you knew was him.

“harry,” you cried as the man slowly began to lift his hips, meeting your thrusts, and in a few moments he had you creaming all over his cock. sobs escaping your lips as he spilled deep inside of you.

adore me hold me and explore me mark your territory

as you sang, you trailed a finger down the side of your neck and leading down your body to your thighs. exactly where harry loved to litter your body with his marks. adoring the way you looked with your thighs covered in crimson. 

tell me i’m the only, only, only, only one

you were a possessive little thing, you always had been. since you and harry had made it official you hated seeing him with anyone else, always clinging to his arm and making sure everyone knew that he was yours.

and he remembered the first time you had said this to him.

“tell me i’m the only one,” you hissed, head against the mirror as harry pounded into you, hips crashing against yours in the bathroom of a very nice restaurant. “tell me,” you begged, tugging at harry’s hair and making him look into your glossy eyes.

“you’re the only one, baby,” harry swore, thumb slipping down to your clit, swirling it in a way that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “only one i want here with me, only pussy i ever wanna fucking fill,”

“not her?” you asked, referring to one of harry’s exes who just so happened to be in the same restaurant as you during a celebratory meal between harry and his team after his album release.

“never, i only want you, baby,”

adore me hold me and explore me i’m so fucking horny

harry’s jaw dropped, and you were grinning, doing the impression of thrusting before laughing and jumping up and running off.

he was so fucking horny right now.

he couldn’t believe you hadn’t warned him about this. he couldn’t believe you had written this. and he never wanted it to fucking stop.

you make me wanna make you fall in love

he was so, so, so in love.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿

“you are fucking insane,” harry hissed. his cock buried deep inside of you. your head was lolling against the pillows of your bed in the hotel room, plush lips parted and coated in droll. “singing that song, not telling me, getting on your fucking knees like that. fuck!”

“thought… thought you’d like it,” you whined, bringing your legs up around his waist. holding him close to you as he thrusted into your weeping cunt.

“liked it?” harry asked with a chuckle, bringing one of his hands up and grasping your cheeks in his big hands, “fucking loved it, baby, seeing you on that stage. singing about how you want me to fuck you full of my cum, get you pregnant,” he groaned.

“harry,” you sobbed, “please,” you begged.

“what is it, pretty girl?” he asked, “you want that, huh? want me to fill you up?” you nodded rapidly, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“you are releasing that song,” harry whispered in your ear, “and next time you perform it i want my cum to be dripping out of your desperate little cunt,” he told you, placing a kiss on the shell of your ear. “you want that, baby?”

“yes, yes ! harry please,” you wept, gasping for breath and harry continued to drill into you.

you were definitely releasing that song.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿

first harry fic since i was about 14 so hope you liked this. honestly guys after what happened to liam i have trauma bonded myself back to harry as a way of coping.

“Yeah?” Her voice comes from somewhere upstairs.

“Have y’seen my keys?”

“Yeah, up here!”

When he enters their bedroom, he stops in his tracks. He sees her sitting on the end of the bed in a sports bar and her jeans unbuttoned as she bends over to tie her shoelaces—well, trying to.

“Hey, hey,” Harry quickly goes to her struggling fingers and begins tying the laces himself. “Be careful, my love. Squishing my baby in there.”

“Yeah well, tell yeh baby that is he could stop pressing down on me bladder,” YN plops down on the bed behind her with a huff, her arms spread out. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“She can’t help it, darlin’.” One of the many late night conversations (debates) they’ve been having lately is what they think their baby is going to be. Harry’s wishing for a girl while YN’s very adamant about them having a boy. “She’s growing big and strong in there,” He places his hands gently on her belly and coos, “It’s that right, my sweet girl?”

“Stop,” She laughs once his kisses on her taut skin begin to tickle from his facial hair. She pushes his head away with a playful shove, “Stop, you’re smothering him.”

Once he’s finished securing the laces into a bow, he stops to question, “You gonna take a walk around the garden again, baby?”

Being housebound by choice can come with its downsides. So to avoid the inevitable cabin fever that has already begun to bubble up inside of her, one of the ways she keeps herself sane is taking walks around their private villa. There’s truly nothing like strolling around the property filled with giant trees, bushes with various flowers growing the perimeter, and feeling the summer sun on her skin. 

The time off has been very much needed, but if she were speaking freely, she has to admit that she’s getting bored.

YN lifts up her hands towards her husband and he gently helps her stand up on her feet. 

“No. M’joining you today.”

Her words make him physically pause.

“You sure?” He hesitates. As much as the thought of having her by his side again excites him, nothing is more important than making sure that she’s comfortable. With her going out, it increases the possibility that someone can not only recognize the two, but figure out that her belly is getting bigger with their child growing. 

They aren’t ready to share the news with the rest of the world yet, but when they do find out, it's going to be on their terms.

“Yeah. I want to.” She puts her hands on her belly and the smile she gives him is enough reassurance, as is. “Wearing one of yeh hoodies can be big enough to cover him. And as long as I don’t hug anyone, I think I’ll be alright.”

He leans down to press a kiss to her lips, sealing the deal. Before he pulls away, he mumbles against her lips, “Her.”

“Just go get my bag, Styles,” she laughs, eyes squeezing shut when he feverishly presses kisses into the crook of her neck.

And oh how the fans immediately take notice—not of her belly, but of how sweet Harry’s being on her. It’s been a while since the people have seen him with his other half and if they didn’t know any better, it seemed like he hadn’t seen her altogether in weeks. He constantly has an arm around the tops of her shoulders and will press a kiss into her hair when walking down the cobblestone pathways. The one time he lets go of her hand is to buy her a small bouquet of flowers from the local vendor. And it would be silly of Harry not to see his wife’s pregnancy cravings kicking in when they pass by a gelato shop. And it would also be silly to be surprised when he has to switch cones with her when she suddenly likes his flavor better.

And there's something so glowly, so radiant about her that the people can't quite put their finger on it.

After putting their errand bags in the car—they almost forgot the reason for going out—Harry goes to open the door for his wife but pauses when he sees the look on her face. He sees how her eyes scan to somewhere in the distance with the tiniest furrow of her brows, her eyes beginning to squint. He doesn’t even try to hide the amused look on his face and instead leans a forearm on the vehicle as he patiently waits for what’s to come. Her nostrils widen a bit, “Do you smell pastrami?”

Harry can’t hold back his laugh. Being in shape for a two-year long world tour was a must. Since then, the couple has maintained a fairly healthy lifestyle—moreso Harry while YN still likes to enjoy a bit of junk food every now and then. Yet, it’s been a while since she’s indulged in something like a beefy, greasy sandwich. 

Yup, definitely pregnancy cravings.

The inevitable comes sooner than later as they turn their attention towards the two ladies saying their names. Harry—already taking in a breath to gently decline the request to take a picture with the two fans—is interrupted by YN’s sweet acceptance. 

The couple stands behind the two ladies as they take a group selfie. Thankfully, YN has her flowers to discreetly hold in front of her belly as she gives the camera a smile. But before they depart, YN asks them where’s the best place to get a pastrami sandwich in the area.

Yeah, pregnancy cravings for sure.

.

.

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies  @cacapeepee @thurhomish @armystay89 @be-with-me-so-happily

His tattooed arms and hard-set jaw are quick to catch the attention of a few girls passing by, whispers slipping past their pretty lips and Harry can’t help but smirk to himself. He knows the effect he has on women, specifically their nether regions and he’s known to use it to his full advantage.

But being unbelievably good-looking and a known Bad Boy doesn’t always get him what he wants. Which is why he’s scuffing his feet as he walks into the Administrator’s Office of yet another prestigious college. He’s still confused about how he got here in the first place after losing his scholarship back at NYU, but he supposes it probably has something to do with the fact that his Aunt is the Dean of the place.

He knows he’s getting unfair treatment, that others work their fucking asses off for this place to even look their way, but he’s not exactly bothered by it. He’s getting what he wants for half the work and isn’t about to bitch about it.

“Harry Styles. I was told to come here and get my schedule and key.” He huffs out, solid arms folding over the high desk in the reception and the young girl behind it stares up at him for a moment. 

She’s completely caught off guard, saliva stuck in her throat at the sight of him and she shakes her head and stares back down at her computer, typing away and trying to compose herself.

Harry can’t help the arrogant smirk that appears on his lips. She’s pretty, really pretty, actually. Big brown doe eyes and long wavy hair. Her skin looks soft, lips plump and glossy and he wonders what they’d feel like wrapped around his co—

“Harry Styles as in… Cathy Styles’ nephew?” 

And there it is, the question of the day. He purses his lips and nods his head, noticing the way her pretty eyes light up and she beams a bright smile. “You’re all everyone’s been talking about.” She tells him, bottom lip caught between her pearly teeth and Harry grins, condescending.

He leans forward a little, raising his brows just enough for it to be suggestive and with a ducked head and a low voice, he tells her, “It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

And he’s pretty sure he can hear her gushing beneath that stupid fucking desk.

Her cheeks brighten beneath the layer of makeup painting her skin and Harry’s eyes trail from her face to her chest. He bites at his own lip at her perfectly round tits just spilling out of her blouse and he wonders how that wasn’t the first thing he saw.

Before he can say anything else, his name is being called in an all too sharp and familiar tone to his Mother and he stills, turning with a sigh. Catherine Rose Styles stands across from him with an unamused glance and arms folded across her chest. She’s in a pantsuit that Richie no doubt got her for her birthday this year and her long hair has been cut short since the last time he saw her.

“Hey, Auntie Cathy.” Harry grins. 

Though he’s smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world, his heart is stammering in his chest because she’s the one who will make or break his future, and though he won’t admit it, he’s not prepared to be deemed a failure by his own family.

“Harry.” She greets, voice stern but he knows she’s trying to be professional, knows she really just wants to scoop him up in her arms and he’s thankful for the former.

Cathy eyes the receptionist sceptically and clears her throat. “Danielle, close your mouth.” She quips and the girl blushes bright red, staring at her computer screen and sinking further down in her chair a little.

An amused smirk tugs at the corners of Harry’s lips and he follows his Aunt out of the reception and into her office. It’s fairly sized, a big bay window behind her desk that looks out to what Harry presumes is the quad. Her walls are decorated in a few certificates and diplomas and there are at least five bookcases that stare back at Harry, almost mocking him for not being able to pronounce the titles even if he tried.

“Glad you showed up.” Cathy begins, taking a seat behind her desk.

Harry watches her for a moment, the way her perfectly manicured fingers point to the chair opposite her and he lets out a short huff of breath and takes the seat.

“Didn’t really have a choice,” he grumbles and he knows he’s being sour. 

Cathy gives him a pointed look—the same look his mother gives him when he’s said something he probably wasn’t supposed to—and folds her arms over the top of the desk.

“You can cut out the attitude, I’ll tell you that right now.” She tells him, voice calm and expression void. 

Harry isn’t sure if that’s scarier than her being angry or disappointed, but he knows he doesn’t want to find out.

He sighs and rolls his head back, pinching his eyes closed. He knows that his Aunt is stubborn and strong-willed, something she and Richie share very clearly, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise to Harry but he can’t help but feel he’s at home again, being moaned at.

Catherine Styles is not a force to be fucked with. She’s lethal when needs to be and still knows how to have a good time. She was the troublemaker out of her and Harry’s father growing up, and maybe that’s why Richie sent him to her because he knows she can relate to him and maybe talk some sense.

She watches her nephew for a moment as he tries to calm himself down. He isn’t angry, they both know that. But he’s fucked off and tired and just wants to get on with whatever the fuck he needs to get on with. Cathy gets the hint when he rolls his head back down to face her, eyes a little darker than before and if she squints just hard enough, she’s sure she can see them glossing over.

She swallows back what she wants to say and reaches for a sealed, brown envelope, twisting it and her fingers gently push it across the desk so Harry can reach it. 

He furrows his brows at her. 

“It’s your schedule and campus map. I already got you the books you’ll need. The receipts are in there, you just have to pick them up from the library.” She explains.

Harry’s frown only deepens when he pulls out the map and receipts and a little silver key falls out, clanking against the table and the plastic of the little keyring bounces as it does so. He picks the dainty thing up between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting it like he’s never seen one before.

The little trinket is white, Greek blocked writing in the centre of it. ZΘΨ. Harry lets out a humorous chuckle and dangles the keyring in his Aunts face. 

“You’re housing me in a Frat house? You sure that’s the best decision.”

He’s grinning, knows exactly what kind of parties and girls that can be found at Frat houses and he thinks he might’ve hit the jackpot and his Aunt is too naive to see it.

“It’s not a Fraternity, and I’m not babying you, Harry. You get three strikes, and you’re out.” She tells him, snatching the key from his grasp and throwing it at his chest. 

He doesn’t feel the impact as it sits in his lap, and all he can do is raise a brow.

“Now go to the house and get yourself settled in, I have a University to run.” She tells him, and just like that, he’s back in his Jeep, key in his hand and he stares at little Greek fraternity symbols for a moment too long. 

He doesn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, it’ll be great chances for drunken parties and getting his dick sucked, but on the other, he’ll have to live with other people and something about that just doesn’t sit well with him.

Nevertheless, he follows the map Cathy gave him to the destination of his new temporary home that she’s circled with a bright red marker. The little roads that surround the campus are quiet for this time of day, and Harry begins to wonder just who he was going to be moving in with. One thing was for sure, he can’t handle any fucking jocks. No way.

It’s even quieter when he pulls up outside of the house, and his Jeep is drowning in its enormous shadow. He can tell it won’t just be him and a couple of other guys, and he knows his Aunt is already cackling to herself at the thought of his face right now.

Harry groans and kills the engine anyway, rubbing a hand through his tousled hair. He’s pulling his keys out as he opens the door, hurling out of the Jeep and slamming it shut.

He wants to delay this whole process as much as he can, but the air is getting colder and Harry would much rather be inside than stuck in the cold and the rain when he notices the looming storm clouds above him.

With a huff, he rounds the back of the Jeep and pulls the trunk door open. He’s hauling out three duffle bags of clothing to start with and tugging out his slick black guitar case. He holds the bags in one hand and gently places the case on the curb, closings the trunk and picking it back up.

He’s kicking his booted feet against the ground as he slowly steps onto the path. The veins in his arms are protruding from the weight of his things, and he’s fairly certain his biceps might actually tear through his shirt at any given moment.

The closer he gets, the more the house looms over him. It’s bigger as he walks the steps of the front of it, and the whole ordeal is just a little more daunting than it was when he was sitting in his car.

Harry doesn’t do neves, never has and likely never will. When he was growing up, his mother always told him ‘nerves mean you care’, but as he approaches the front door, he feels something unfamiliar in the pit of his stomach.

He’s sure it isn’t nervous, though. Blames it on the fact that he hasn’t eaten in over seven hours and his mothers’ persistent warnings just an hour before he left for this hellhole. He’s not upset with her, never could be, but he wishes she stood up for him more when his father sent him away.

He knows it was a long shot to move to New York for college, and he knew it was a matter of time before he lost his scholarship and got kicked out. It all came tumbling down and Harry was willing to stay put but when his father showed up and dragged him back home, he had no choice but to listen and attend Mildred University. .

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the chatter from the inside of the house, and it’s only when he looks up from his feet that he finally notices the front door is open and a tall blond and short brunette are standing by the threshold.

The blond clears his throat and Harry sets his bags and guitar by his feet on the porch. “Harry, right?” He asks and Harry nods his head with slightly squinted eyes.

Niall Horan, a history and economics major, holds his hand out in greeting and offers a grin. “Niall. Nice to meet you.” Harry eyes his hand for a moment before nodding his head a little and shaking his hand.

“Yeah, you too.” He’s weary when he speaks and his eyes soon flicker to the short brunette by his side. 

She’s got a cute button nose and soft brown eyes, long straight hair and half of it sits in a bun on top of her head. Harry can’t help the cheeky grin that sneaks its way on his pink lips and he sees the way she blushes under his gaze.

“I’m Maisee.” She introduces herself with a little wave. She’s nibbling on her red-stained bottom lip and her dainty fingers play with the sleeves of her tousled blouse that’s tucked into her denim shorts.

He nods and swipes his tongue out against his lips. “Harry.” He repeats his name, momentarily forgetting Niall is still standing there until he clears his throat again and Harry finally acknowledges his presence for more than just twenty seconds.

“You want some help with your stuff?” He offers, pointing to his bags and Harry nods, watching as Maisee wanders off, grinning back at him over her shoulder.

Harry bites his bottom lip and grabs his guitar and other duffel bag and follows Niall inside his new home. 

“Don’t get any ideas with her. She’s great, and all, but she’s bad news.” Niall tells him gruffly. Harry hums, not really taking the information in, too busy looking around.

The walls are a light, dusty grey and aesthetically white and black furniture decorate the emptiness. He’s shocked at the cleanliness of the home and with furrowed brows, he follows Niall through the foyer and into the equally clean kitchen.

“Dude, why is this place so clean?” Harry asks, nose slightly scrunched up when he notices three more people in the room. 

He’s standing beneath the archway as everyone stops what they’re doing to look at him. Niall sets his bags down beside the centre island and lets out a soft laugh.

“That’d be Y/N.” Niall laughs out. 

He rounds the island and searches through the fridge for two beers, handing one to Harry who takes it thankfully and pops it open. He frowns and takes a sip.

“Who’s that? Your maid?” He quips and he doesn’t mean it rudely, for once. He’s curious as to how a Frat house is so clean and organised, and by the looks of Niall, he doesn’t seem one to have his shit together.

Maisee laughs from her place at the stove. She’s stirring a large pot of pasta and Harry presumes that maybe she’s on lunch duty. Is that a thing in this house? 

“No, she’s a student and she lives here. Her OCD flares up sometimes so this place is always spotless.” She explains, not bothering to look over her shoulder and Harry can’t help but frown to himself over her sudden sense of coldness.

“You mean… girls… live here?” He asks. 

He knows he sounds like some hormonal teenager but he’s more than shocked that his Aunt would allow him to live in a house with a practically endless supply of pussy, whenever he wanted it.

“Yeah. It’s only Y/N, Maisee, and Raegan,” Niall begins to explain, pointing to the blonde that sits at the table, head in a book. She waves a hand over her head, looking up for a couple of seconds to offer Harry a smile.

He nods his head in affirmation and looks back to Niall. “Then there’s us guys. Me, you, Dean,” he points to the guy that’s reading a magazine. His hair is styled back into a quiff and he’s wearing skinny jeans and a shirt.

“There’s Mackey, he’s at a class right now. And Oliver is on a grocery run.” Niall explains. 

Harry takes a moment to nod his head. He knows there’s no use even trying to remember these names, knows he’s not going to be talking to them much.

“Where’s Lily?” He asks as he eyes the group. Ah, wrong already. Niall stifles a laugh and shakes his head, noticing the death glares that Raegan seems to be sending him over the top of her book.

“Her name is Y/N.” She corrects him, brows slightly scrunched and as quickly as she interjected, she returns her attention back to her book. 

Harry raises a brow at her boldness, then he realises that none of them actually know who he is and maybe he’s a little relieved about that.

“Y/N is at work. She picked up a double so she should be home for about 10 p.m., in the meantime, let me show you to your room.”

//

It’s 11 p.m. and Harry’s all unpacked in his new bedroom. The walls are bare and his closet is only partly full, but he’s unpacked. He’s got his laptop set up on his desk and he’s made his bed to the best of his ability. His toiletries are in his bathroom and the steam is still pouring out of the room from his shower twenty minutes ago. He supposes next time he’ll open a window.

He’s dressed in a pair of gym shorts, laying back on his bed with his back against the headboard and his acoustic guitar sitting in his lap. He’s strumming softly at the strings and he thinks he might’ve found a melody until a soft tapping on his door stops him from following the feeling.

He sighs and places the guitar in his bed, quickly tugging on a black t-shirt and pushing back his wanton curls when he opens the door to her.  

She’s pretty, he supposes. Her hair is thrown in a ponytail and her rounded eyes sparkle as they stare up at him. She’s got full lips and a little crook in the bridge of her nose. Her face is void of makeup save for a little mascara and brow powder, and Harry can see the little blemishes that scatter her cheeks.

She’s short, too, Harry reckons no taller than 5”7 and her left front tooth slightly overlaps the right. She’s got that good girl look about her and for once, Harry’s not interested in corrupting it. He raises his brow and she drinks him in. 

He’s tall and lean, muscular, she’s sure and his biceps are begging to tear through his shirt. His jaw is sharp and skin clear, and his lips look so soft and pink. What gets her most, are his curls. They’re fluffy and wild and she can’t help but want to run her fingers through them.

Maisee told her he had a bad boy vibe, but right now, she can’t see anything other than soft. 

“Welcome to Mildred University,” she greets him softly, and he’s pleasantly shocked by her voice. 

It isn’t as sickeningly sweet as he had thought. It’s a little raspy and velvety at the same time and completely unexpected to Harry.

“I’m Y/N.” She introduces herself with a hand out for him to take. 

He does, hesitantly. Her skin is soft on his and she beams brightly up at him, despite just having worked a fourteen-hour shift on three hours of sleep and a slice of dry toast from this morning. Not to mention she still has to study for her test tomorrow morning.

“Harry.” He greets, smiling through pursed lips and she releases his hand. 

She smells like flowers and if it wasn't for the florist apron covering her front, he would’ve thought she'd been laying in a field all day.

“You work in a flower shop?” He quips, and suddenly she’s so cliche. 

A good girl working in a flower shop, what a surprise. Y/N stills at his tone and retracts her hand, fiddling with her fingers and she retracts her gaze from his face.

She clears her throat and looks back up at him. “Yeah, gotta pay the bills somehow.” She jokes, trying to lighten the mood, but she knows he’s probably going to be a dick about it and tease her.

He nods. “But we’re all living here for free.” He retorts. 

Y/N sighs and closes her eyes for a moment. Yes, they’re all living there for free. Maisee’s father is the owner of the building and promised her and her housemates could live free of charge, providing there’s no complaints or drugs.

She scratches her forehead. “Yeah, but we have cars to pay for, groceries, books, supplies… you know.” She trails off and Harry can tell by the way she doesn’t look him in the eye that she’s hiding something. 

“And besides, I like flowers.” She tells him and this time her voice is a little harder and there’s a tick in her jaw.

Part of him wants to tease her and he isn’t sure why. Maybe it’s just his inner dick showing but the way he’s speaking to her makes the young woman feel uncomfortable and she feels so unworthy to be under his gaze.

He’s not bothered, really. But his Aunt's words continue to play in his head and he knows he has to keep out of trouble and not start upsetting people. Three strikes and he’s out, and he isn’t about to get his first one on his first night here.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say hello,” Y/N concludes, her stomach breaking into an uneasy herd of elephants and she’s sure she can taste the bitterness he’s protruding.

She spins on her feet before he can say anything else and Harry watches her disappear into the room next to his. Great, he thinks. We’re neighbours. With a huff, he kicks his door closed and bounces back on his bed, guitar sitting back in his lap as he plucks inspiration from nowhere.

From the other side of the wall, Y/N let’s out a breathy sigh and closes her bedroom door. She’s leaning against it as she tugs off her apron and unties the hair band in her hair. 

She struggles to calm her breathing and she isn’t sure why. She’s used to being intimidated by other people, but he’s doing it on a whole other level. Her body feels hot and her cheeks are flushing, and she’s certain she can feel a wetness between her legs.

“Cut it out, Y/N.” She tells herself, shaking her head and taking another deep breath. She’s stripping her clothes when her phone goes off and she quickly picks it up as she steps out of her shoes.

Maisee: Total hottie right?

Y/N giggles at her friend and she can’t help but nibble on her bottom lip. She’s running the water of her shower, waiting for the temperature to heat up as she quickly texts Maisee back.

Y/N: Gonna have to agree on that one lmao

Y/N: Don’t get any ideas, though! He’s our roommate and you can’t go whoring around with him, it’ll make it awkward for all of us here :/

Maisee: You’re only saying that cause you secretly wanna hop on that dick. God, you’re such a slut!

Y/N stifles out a laugh and shakes her head, phone thrown into the bed and she climbs into the shower. The water’s hot on her aching body and she takes her time to let the water run over her.

Her puffy nipples pearl beneath the hot water and she runs a hand through her hair, brushing it from her face. She feels hotter than before, chest heaving and she cups the swells of her breasts before her hands slowly travel down the expanse of her stomach, and she can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like if his curls were ticking her skin like her fingers.

Harry stills on his bed at the sound of a strange noise coming from the other room. He frowns, resting the guitar against his nightstand and slowly makes his way toward the wall opposite him.

He can hear the shower running and he knows it’s Y/N. He’s about to roll his eyes and wander off when he hears a soft groan and sharp intake of breath. His eyes widen and cheeks flush and he hears Y/N let out another shaky moan.

She’s showering and she’s touching herself. Harry gulps, entire body heating up and he’s not sure if his mouth is watering or if it’s growing dry. He feels a twinge of something familiar between his legs and by the time he looks down, there’s a small tent forming and he’s straining in his boxers.

Oh fuck.

//

Y/N Y/L/N is a people-pleaser. She doesn’t know how to say “no” and often finds herself swallowing back her discomfort to put others well -beings first. She’s always been like it, gets it from her mother, so it’s no surprise that she’s been dragged into yet another one of Maisee’s brilliant ideas.

“And you’re not skipping out halfway through, either.”

Y/N sighs to herself as she stacks the red solo cups. It’s Friday afternoon and her and Maisee are getting the house ready for Harry’s surprise party tonight. A week has passed since he moved in and after a little planning and cash spent on drinks, it was well and truly underway.

“I’m not gonna skip out. I already told you.” Y/N speaks softly, though she is wondering if maybe she’ll be able to sneak off toward the end of the night so she can get a head start on her paper due next Wednesday.

Maisee already seems to know what she’s thinking and she takes the plastic cups away from her fiddling hands. “I mean it, Y/N. As much as I love you and your anti-socialness, you need to get out a little more. And besides, I invited Chris, so you have to come.”

And just like that, Y/N’s gaping at her best friend. “Why did you invite Chris!?” She shrieks and Maisee lets out a scoff like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Um, ‘cause he’s into you… duh.” She frowns, twisting the bottle of liquor on the counter to read the names.

Y/N frowns to herself and lets out a shaky breath. “But I’m not into him. He freaks me out, Mais,” Y/N argues but she knows her pleads are falling on deaf ears. 

Maisee waves her off and shakes her head. As much as Y/N loves Maisee, she doesn’t love her attitude right now.

“He just likes you,” she argues back and Y/N has to take another deep breath in an attempt to shake off the anxiety that she can feel crawling up her chest. 

It’s typical Maisee, really. She knows how Y/N struggles with her anxieties and she’s always been one to show her the “tough love” side to it, and in the past, it’s worked. But now, all Y/N can feel is her chest caving in and her hands growing clamming and she knows she’s on the verge of a panic attack.

“One… two… three,” Y/N finds herself whispering under her breath, bottom lip quivering. 

“Blue,” she whispers, eyes darting around the room as she searches for three blue things. 

Mackey’s book, couch pillow, Harry’s shirt. She stills. Harry’s shirt? Harry. 

“Harry.” she squeaks out, hand reaching to smack Maisee in the side.

He’s standing in the doorway, dark hair tucked beneath a baseball cap that Maisee thinks looks like pure sex. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Harry! What are you doing here?” Maisee giggles out breathlessly. 

Y/N fights back the need to roll her eyes at her best friends whorish antics and Harry nibbles down on his lower lip.

“I live here… remember?” he jokes half-heartedly and she almost gushes at the sound. Y/N clears her throat and subtly nudges her friend’s side. 

“Thought you had classes till seven?” Y/N interjects, though she knows there’s no real use in lying about what they’re doing.

“Got cancelled.” He shrugs, wandering into the kitchen and grabbing a deep red apple from the fruit bowl. 

Y/N watches as he takes a bite out of it and lets out a sigh. She isn’t sure if she’s thankful she’s able to stop secretly setting up his party, or if she’s angry that he didn’t come home sooner.

“So… what’s all this?” He asks, hands gesturing to the mass of alcohol and party food and all Y/N can do is stare at his stupid head and wonder why he’s hiding his hair under that stupid cap. 

Before Maisee has the chance to fabricate a story, Y/N is blurting out that it’s his surprise party. Harry’s quirking a brow and taking another bite of his apple when Maisee sends her friend what can only be considered a death glare, but Y/N doesn’t exactly care. 

She doesn’t want to go to the party and she’s hoping that maybe Harry will force her to call it off with that stupidly charming smile.

“A party sounds fun.”

//

It’s warm and it smells. Y/N’s tucked herself in the kitchen the entire night as she’s kept away from the ruckus of horny college students. She’s got a cup of lemonade in her hand and she tries to fight back the urge to run upstairs and lock her door behind her.

The party has been in full swing for well over two hours now and Y/N is more than eager to leave. She hasn’t seen Harry since earlier this morning and she isn’t even sure if he’s actually here. Maisee is off with her second guy of the week and Y/N isn’t sure where the rest of her housemates are.

She’s been avoiding Chris all night, running out of the room whenever he enters it and she knows she’ll have to face him at one point, but that won’t stop her from trying to delay it. 

“Aye, Miss Y/N Jane, what are you doing here all on your pretty lonesome,” a husky voice booms through the kitchen and Y/N looks up from her cup.

Oliver and Mackey come bolting into the room, arms around their shoulders and they struggle to hold their drinks and keep their stability. Y/N’s heart warms at the happiness on her friends’ faces and she giggles to herself at just how far gone they seem.

“Too loud out there,” Y/N shrugs, welcoming the warm hugs that the young men give her. 

Mackey and Oliver Belford: aka, the hottest twins on campus but the brothers Y/N wishes she had. They both circle her and hold her close until she’s squished between them.

“Want me to make them be quiet?” Mackey asks, ruffling a hand through his golden locks and Y/N stifles out a laugh and shakes her head. 

“S’Okay, Mack. You two should go back in there, though. Go have fun!” She tells them and though they don’t mind staying with her, they wander off anyway and blow a kiss as they leave the room.

“Aye! Mackey, Olly!” Niall shouts out to his friends from across the room. 

He’s wearing a green tee with little holes decorating it and a pair of skinny jeans that sit low on his waist. The twins approach him with grins, hollering out greetings to the tall curly-haired man with them.

Harry’s having a good time, and to say he’s surprised is an understatement. He’s got a beer in his hand and a light blush to his cheeks. He knows it’s from the alcohol and the attention he’s been receiving all night, and he’s already got his eye on a pretty little brunette that’s been eye-fucking him from across the room for the past thirty minutes.

“Boys,” Harry greets them, and it’s like he’s known them for years. 

Mackey works with Harry at the garage on Thursdays and Saturdays, while Oliver majors in music and is tatted up to his shoulders, something Harry took a quick interest to and it wasn’t long before he was friendly with all the guys in the house.

“Styles, let me tell you something,” Mackey slurs as he slings his heavy arm over Harry’s shoulder, “I think you’re pretty cool, for a bad boy, and that little piece of ass over there is totally begging for it.” He snorts out a laugh and Oliver can’t help but shake his head and frown at his brothers choice of words.

Harry hums and sets his drink down on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. He’s enjoying himself, and maybe it’s because of the alcohol or the fact that he knows he’s getting his dick sucked tonight.

“Bro, I can’t believe you’re from Holmes Chapel and we’ve never met before. I used to visit my aunt every summer there.” Niall laughs out. 

He and Harry have grown closer over the past week, learning that somehow, they have a lot more in common than they thought.

They’re both into music, both like beer and parties. They share other smaller interests, too. Niall likes bikes and Harry fixes them. Niall likes tattoos and Harry has plenty. It’s definitely a blooming bromance and for once, Harry isn’t all that mad about it.

He’s kept to himself, aside from spending a few hours hanging out with Niall here and there. He supposes maybe one day he’ll open up a little more to him, but for now, hanging out in the present is enough, and he isn’t ready to drag his past into things.

Harry shrugs and stifles out a laugh, not wanting to tell him that he was in with the wrong crowd and was the reason for so many headlines that met the papers. 

“Guess our paths just never crossed,” he agrees, and he’s thankful for that. It’s only been a week and Niall is already more solid than Harry’s previous ’friends’.

“Gonna go grab some pizza.” He tells them, offering Niall a pat on the back and a tight-lipped smile to the twins. 

Harry weaves through the groups of people he doesn’t know, paw-like hands coming up to push back his hair. He breathes out a small sigh as he enters the quiet kitchen. The surfaces are smothered in splattered pizza slices and sticky alcohol and the thought of cleaning it in the morning gives Harry a brief headache, but he’s sure Y/N would have a whale of a time.

He’s unsure as to what his problem is with the girl but something about her irks him. No one is really that well put together or polite and kind. 

He hears muffled voices and hums from the utility room on his left as he wanders to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water, no longer in the mood for pizza, (not that there was any left anyway). 

He laughs to himself under his breath, the couple in the room no doubt too eager to wait until they’re home, and Harry’s about to leave the kitchen until he hears a desperate whimper and he stills.

He’s not so sure if it is a bunch of horny college students anymore when the pleas of “stop, I mean it,” come out louder and clearer, desperate and serious. His eyes widen and for a moment, his heart stops, but the second a heartbreaking sob sounds from behind the door, he’s kicking it open before he can even think.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

There’s a blond dude hunched over a young woman he’s got cornered against the sink. Her hands are frantic as she tries to push him away but she doesn’t have to try much longer when Harry tears him off her and sends a quick jab to his nose. It isn’t until the woman looks up that Harry’s stomach drops to the pit of his stomach.

Y/N.

Niall comes bolting into the utility room, eyes frantic and he quickly pieces together what just happened. He dags Chris out by the scruff of his neck when Raegen and Maisee come racing through the door, standing on either side of Y/N as they escort her out of the room and up to her own.

Harry watches as they pull her away, catches sight of her wet cheeks and mascara smudged eyes. She’s shaking with terror and embarrassment and Harry has to stop himself from calling her name or pulling her into him. As he turns around to the kitchen, a large crowd has formed and the music’s stopped.

He feels sick, completely and utterly disgusted. Guilt sits just as heavy in his stomach — slightly ashamed to have been so rude to her previously. That initial dislike to Y/N has quickly began to dwindle when he finds himself angry at everyone gathering around the scene. 

Harry lets out a growl and that once carefree persona is long gone. “What the fuck are you all looking at? Party’s over!” He roars out and he isn’t sure if it’s in anger or something else. 

The partygoers are quick to scramble and suddenly, he’s left alone with his thoughts and a completely trashed house.

Niall, Mackey and Oliver are locking up and making sure everyone left, Dean passed out on the couch with a bottle of wine cuddled into his chest and Harry wonders for a moment how the whole ordeal hadn’t woken him. He supposes he still has a lot to learn about his roommates.

He takes to the stairs, jaw set hard and he’s almost certain there’s steam oozing from his ears and nose. All he can think about is her. He’s desperate to know if she’s okay, if he hurt her… but he doesn’t know what he’d do if he had. His shoulders slump as he walks down the hallway, eyes widening when he sees both Maisee and Raegen leaving Y/N’s bedroom with pursed lips.

“Is she okay?” Harry rasps out and he doesn’t know where this sudden hesitation and worry is coming from. 

Maisee looks up at him with a slightly tilted head, like she’s trying to read what his angle is. 

Raegen sighs and shrugs. “She just wants to be alone.” 

Harry frowns. “So you just left her? After what just happened?” he quips, voice raising before he can even process what he’s said.

Maisee squints at him, wants to know what his deal is and Harry is quick to notice her attitude toward him. 

“Sorry.” He quickly apologises for his tone, and it’s yet another thing he can’t seem to understand why he’s doing. 

The girls walk past him in silence and Harry watches as they both enter their own bedrooms, closing the doors behind them.

As he turns his head, he stares at Y/N’s door. He doesn’t know how long he stands there for but after a few minutes he can hear her cries through the thick wood and he just wants to scream.

She’s shaking as she sits in the corner of her room, and she tells herself she’s being stupid, that she shouldn’t be so upset about this. But she is, she’s fucking distraught and she has to remind herself that she has every right to be. She was violated and she doesn’t even want to fucking look at herself.

Harry stands there until her cries quieten down to silent sobs and his fists clench by his sides. He forces himself to move, to turn on his heel and go into his bedroom that’s right next to hers. He pretends he doesn’t hear her crying herself to sleep. Just like she pretends she doesn’t hear him leave his room an hour later to clean the house for her.

//

He’s sweating.

There’s dirty oil smothering his bulging biceps and his short sleeves have been rolled up, sitting on his shoulders. His hair is a mess, slicked back with gel and sweat but the girl in the sunflower dress thinks he looks like sex.

He’s meant to be working, refitting an engine, to be exact. He isn’t, though. Instead, he’s chatting up Corina, his boss’ niece and if it wasn’t for Mackey working across the garage, he’d have her bent over the table with that pretty little dress hiked up her waist as he pounded into her pussy.

She’s perfect, he thinks. Gorgeous skin, innocent eyes that he knows will be the death of him, and the most mind-blowing hourglass figure that he can even make out beneath her loose fitted dress. He can only imagine how juicy those tits must be.

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his clear arousal toward the young woman, and if anything, he makes it clear as day when Mackey looks over and the tall boy is pressing himself against her, a taunting smirk on his lips as he whispers something filthy in her ear.

Mackey shakes his head and clears his throat, supposes he should probably help a brother out. “Yo, Harry,” he calls out, watching as Harry looks over Corina’s shoulder to see him. “Go take your break. I got it down here.”

He doesn’t bother hiding his grin as he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into the building, giggles slipping past her lips when he guides her into the bathroom.

He’s shoving her against the door, lips hot on her neck and she sighs out in sweet relief. Her skin tastes like strawberries and Harry can’t get enough, swears it’ll be the death of him. She tugs on his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp, knows they’re gonna be untamable, but at this moment, he can’t seem to care.

His hands snake down her sides and to the hem of her little sundress before he’s hiking it up around her hips. Corina’s breaths are shaky in his ear as she licks the shell of it. Harry’s fingertips graze against the silky skin of her thighs and all he wants is to have them wrapped around his head.

He’s panting and she’s barely done anything. His fingers feel the soft cotton of her panties and she’s soaked through already. He fights back a smirk as she pulls away to look up at him, gorgeous brown eyes batting away and she sinks to her knees with a smirk of her own.

Harry nibbles down on his bottom lip, the anticipation almost becoming too much as she fumbles with his belt. He throws his head back and takes a deep breath. He needs this. It’s been too long and if he doesn’t have a pussy or pair of lips wrapped around him in the next ten seconds, he’s gonna burst.

It’s like she gets it, though, like she hears his thoughts and she runs her soft, wet tongue up his throbbing shaft. He’s big. Thick and the perfect length and her pussy is pulsing just looking at it. His tip is red, sore and angry, and all she can do is pepper kisses to it as she drinks him in.

She’s pulled his jeans and boxers down just enough so she can scratch up his thick thighs. Her plump lips tickle at his balls, sucking them into her mouth and she swirls her warm tongue around them, and Harry’s seeing stars. Knows it’s over for him when she releases with a pop and sucks up half his cock like a pro.

He’s fucking her face, holding it in place by her blonde locks and she doesn’t even gag when he hits the back of her throat. He’s completely gone, can’t tell his left from his right and he swears to God he’s gonna die and this is the best way he could ever fucking imagine.

She’s taking him like never before, slurping and lapping him up. Harry’s head is thrown back, eyes rolling and he feels like he’s going to explode. “Holy shit,” he pants out, beads of sweat dotting his hairline and he’s seeing stars.

Harry’s fingers thread through her hair, shoving her head closer to him until his cock is snug down her throat and her button nose is pressed against his naked pubic bone. 

“Ah, shit,” he cries out as she swallows around him, coming up for air.

She’s grinning up at him, eyes watering and plump lips swollen and soaked. Her own saliva is smothered across her chin and a string of it connects her lips to his tip. His cock is soaked too, completely fucking drenched and he wonders how tight her pussy would feel.

“You like that, baby?” Corina purrs up at him, long, dark lashes fluttering and he bites back a moan, doesn’t want to let her see him so fucked and vulnerable. 

He’s gnawing on his bottom lip, groans bubbling in his throat as she sucks him back up again. She moans around his shaft, tongue swirling on his underside of his cock and she pumps what she doesn’t want to fit in her mouth.

Harry’s hips are jutting into her face, eagerly chasing his release and she’s coaxing him on; sucking harder and pumping faster. He’s a spluttering mess, vision clouded and dotted with white lights and he’s coming. He’s coming so fucking hard, Corina struggles to keep it all in her mouth.

His arousal drips from the corners of her lips and Harry watches with blown eyes, jaw slacked. She’s still staring up at him, grinning as she swallows everything he gave her. Harry whimpers, taking a shaky breath and tucking himself back into his pants.

Corina giggles and licks up what slipped past her mouth, raising back to her feet and leaning into him with puckered lips. Harry grimaces and pulls back, dodging her kiss like his life depends on it and she sinks back to her feet and stifles a laugh.

“Oh, you’re one of those,” she quips, and Harry can’t help but scoff. 

He leans back against the walls, head rolled to the side slightly and Corina just wants to mark up that pretty neck. Shame she doesn’t get to. She squints, like she’s trying to read what’s on his mind, but it comes back blank. 

“My number’s in the books. Call me.” 

And just like that, she’s spinning on her heels and strutting out of the bathroom and out of the garage completely, hips swaying like she didn’t just suck the soul of his dick.

He stays there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and wrap his head around what had just happened. Just when he’s about to leave, Mackey is standing at the doorway with arms folded over his chest and a knowing smirk.

“Fuck off, Mack,” Harry grumbles out a laugh, fighting back the blush that sits on his cheeks. 

Mackey shakes his head at the young man and guides him back into the garage, throwing a greased up cloth at him and Harry gets back to work.

//

He’s getting frustrated. The notes don’t flow together and he can’t get the damn melody right. It’s 2 a.m. and Harry’s a mess. He’s not sure why he’s sacrificing his sleep to play around with his stupid guitar, but he really thought inspiration would strike. It hasn’t.

He stops his strumming and lets out a sigh, his stomach churning and he hears it gurgle silently. With a huff, Harry throws on a shirt from the ground and makes his way out of his bedroom. The hallway light is on and he can hear soft, yet frantic tapping as he makes his way down the stairs.

He rounds the corner when he notices the kitchen light on and papers sprawled around the island, and his heart stops a little. Y/N sits with a furrowed brow, AirPods shoved in her ears and she’s gnawing on her bottom lip as she types her fingers raw. Her hair is braided back and she’s got a stupid, slimy looking facemask on and she hasn’t noticed Harry’s presence.

He’s tempted to turn around while he still can, avoid her the way she’s been avoiding him for the past week, since that night at the party, but she catches his head of curls from the corner of her eyes and she’s pulling out her earphones and offering a soft, yet nervous smile.

“Hi,” she breathes softly, and it feels like it’s the first time he’s hearing her voice again. 

He’s not sure why he’s so bothered that she’s been avoiding him. And maybe he wouldn’t be bothered if it was under other circumstances, but he’s been silently worrying and treading on eggshells for the past nine days and he fucking hates it.

“Hi, yourself,” he tries to make it playful, to ease the air that’s suffocating them in the room and she breathes out a stifled laugh. 

Harry sits opposite her, watching the way she chews on the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit, he supposes. He can’t figure out what’s going on in her head.

“What are you doing up?” Y/N finally asks, and her voice is just as velvety as he remembers. 

She’s trying not to make eye contact, doesn’t want to deal with the awkward tension between them both. Never had been good with confrontation. Harry seems to get the hint, and like magic he’s willing to forget the whole thing.

He shrugs, “I couldn’t sleep,” and he’s got his chin propped up in the palms of his hands as his elbows rest on the counter. His hair is curling around his ears and at the nape of his neck again and Y/N just wants to brush her fingers through it. She doesn’t, though.

Instead, she nods her head and gently pushes her laptop screen down so she can get a better look at him—like she’s making up for the nine days and three hours that she hasn’t seen him for.

“I have some camomile tea in the cupboard. I always find that helps me with sleeping, you can have some, if you want.” She offers with a tight-lipped smile and picks at her nails. 

She struggles to look him in the eye, terrified he’s going to bring up the night of the party and she isn’t sure she can handle that. She hasn’t spoken about it to anyone. She’d like to keep it that way. 

“Why are you always so nice to everyone?” 

He can’t help but ask the question that’s been stuck in his head since he met her. She’s silent for a moment, a little stunned because no one’s ever asked her that before. She’s just nice. That’s who she is. She doesn’t know anything else.

Y/N shrugs. “I have no reason to be unkind,” and Harry can’t help but frown at her words. 

Part of him gets it, though, somewhere deep down, but the more conscious part of him doesn’t.

“Haven’t you heard of ‘kindness is weakness’?” He asks with slightly raised brows and she falls into herself a little, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. 

Y/N doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want to mutter out an answer and she’s too stuck in her head, wondering if Harry had meant to backhandedly call her weak.

“I guess I’d rather be weak than an ass.” She shrugs, and this time, Harry isn’t sure if she meant to backhandedly call him an asshole. 

He sees the hint of a teasing smile on her lips and he can’t help but chuckle whole-heartedly, knowing she’s only playing, but he’s also sure part of her is being truthful.

Harry squints at her. “Why are you up, then?” He quips and he tries to keep it light and playful. 

Y/N lets out a shaky laugh and motions her hand across the surfaces. “I have a poetry essay to write, and I haven’t quite finished annotating everything,” she explains briefly, worried her talking will bore him and if she’s honest, she quite enjoys his company.

He hums and nods a little, about to say something when she speaks again. “And I heard you playing, you’re really good. You should see Professor Lennon about joining his class.” She smiles brightly, so bright that she misses the way his face hardens and jaw sets.

Y/N doesn’t stop talking, though, doesn’t hear the alarm bells in her head or see the way his face turns an angry shade of pink. 

“You were listening to me?” He asks, stuck in complete disbelief, and Y/N isn’t sure if his expression is one of anger or embarrassment.

It’s the former.

“I mean, the walls are thin, of course, I heard you,” she explains and before he can get a word in, she’s rambling again. “And you’re really good! I don’t know why you put up this hard front, you should be pursuing music, not keeping up this bad boy look.” She speaks, and Harry can’t help but see red.

How dare she tell him who he is and isn’t.

“You don’t know shit about me, so back the fuck off.” He spits at her, and he doesn’t miss the way her face drops and shoulders slump. 

He doesn’t care. He spins on his heels and ignores the frantic calls of his name and eager apologies as he bounces up the stairs, anger rolling off him in waves.

Y/N sits in her spot, completely frozen in shock and her whole body jolts when she hears him slam his bedroom door and glass shattering on the floor.

// 

The house is a tip, Y/N thinks. The cushions on the couch aren’t fluffed, the throw blanket over the back isn’t straight and she’s only just deciding that the rug beneath the coffee table is too big for the living room.

The house isn’t a mess. The surfaces are spotless and literally shining from the amount of polishing Reagan had done, the floors have been swept and mopped thanks to Niall, and the throw blanket over the back of the couch is straight.

The house isn’t a mess, Y/N is. She’s snappy and not at all her perky self. It’s 11 a.m and she’s forbidden anyone from walking around the house with their shoes on, and insisted that if you eat, it’s over the fucking sink or not at all. 

She doesn’t mean to be a controlling, raging bitch, but she’s stressed beyond comprehension and she only has thirty more minutes to make sure everything is perfect.

Her Dad is visiting. The one man that Y/N likes to think she doesn’t take shit from, but in reality, he’s the route of all her men-troubles. He’s ignorant, stubborn, filthy rich and, in Maisee’s word, a complete and utter fucking DILF.

Grayson Lee Y/L/N is not only Y/N’s biological father, but also the founder and CEO of GL Trading, one of the most successful businesses in all of the Greater London Area. It’s something Y/N tends not to brag about, and if anything, it’s something she purposely tries to go out of her way to hide.

It’s bad enough she shares his last name, she doesn’t want the entire campus (or everyone she meets, for that matter) to know he’s her father. It’s not that she’s ashamed… exactly. Moreover, she’s completely and utterly disgusted by his presence alone. He’s controlling, manipulative… a bully, and Y/N doesn’t like it one bit.

Harry’s bouncing down the stairs when Y/N rearranges the cushions and takes a step back to inspect their straightness. He’s got on his black skinny jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt. He’s got a hoodie thrown over his shoulder and a stupid beanie suffocating his hair. 

He notices Reagan first, how she’s dusting the tops of the picture frames on the walls. Her shirt has ridden up a little and so has her skirt, the hem of it barely resting below her ass and Harry looks away, eyes catching sight of a distraught Y/N, instead.

“No, it’s still not straight.” She huffs in aggravation.

The apples of her cheeks are growing warm and she’s tugging at the roots of her hair out of frustration. Harry’s never seen her like this and he can’t help but raise his brows in amusement at what she seems to be getting so upset over.

He takes a step closer to her, brows still raised and she stomps her foot like a child, and that’s when Harry decides he can’t hold back a little laugh. Y/N spins around and grits her teeth at the grinning young man.

“What? What the fuck is your problem, huh? Why don’t you fucking help instead of standing there, not doing shit!” 

She isn’t sure where it came from, no one is. Her chest is heaving with anger and everyone stares with wide eyes and slacked jaws. Harry’s fairly certain his head has been bitten off and he’s too much in shock to say anything back.

No one gets the chance to say anything before her shoulders are slumping and she’s rushing past everyone and up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Harry gapes at the spot she was just standing in and lets out a choked noise when he feels his boxers begin to strain.

Oh, no.

He spins around when Niall lets out a sigh and Harry can’t help but raise his brows in amusement again as he tries to mask his arousal. “What the fuck was that about?” he scoffs out a laugh as everyone disperses and Mackey takes the trash out.

Niall huffs and straightens the pillow for Y/N, although he’s quite sure he just made it worse. 

“Her Dad’s coming to visit today,” he explains briefly and Harry isn’t sure why that’s such a big deal and what other information Niall clearly isn’t telling him.

“That’s it? Why is she getting so uptight about the house and that fucking pillow?” Harry asks, completely bewildered and feeling more than a little out of the loop. 

Niall shrugs and spins a little, inspecting the rest of the room to make sure it was up to standards.

“She doesn’t like him. He’s a dick.” He concludes, offering a smile through pursed lips and all Harry can really do is gape at the man. 

Y/N, not liking another human being? That must be a joke. Harry waits for Niall to say so, but he doesn’t. He walks off with a little whistle and goes out to the backyard to help Dean and Maisee pull up the weeds.

Harry hums to himself and takes a deep breath. His pants are growing more uncomfortable by the second, hands growing clammy and he clears his throat. He’s alone in the lounge and the sun’s shining. It’s almost 3 p.m. and Harry has a class in forty minutes. 

He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, wondering if he has time to quickly get himself off and not be late for class. Usually, he wouldn’t care, but his attendance is already falling and he doesn’t want a formal meeting with Aunt Cathy and his parents.

Harry says fuck it and takes for the stairs, bounding up them three at a time. He’s racing straight for his room and misses the way Y/N tries to call out for him to apologise, and he’s unknowingly slamming the door in her face right after.

She wanders off with a sigh and he’s stripping his clothes, leaving them as a trail from the foot of his bed to his bathroom. The water’s running as his cock hardens, chest slightly heaving and he lets out a shaky breath. Stepping into the shower, he leaves the door open and allows the steam to filter through the bathroom.

He’s standing directly beneath the showerhead, scolding hot droplets of water racing down his toned torso, few sitting in the divots of flesh that form his abs. His skin is still a little sunkissed from his time in New York, golden and tan and his cock jumps a little when the water pelts down on him and his rosy nipples are caught in the crossfire.

He’s thinking about her, about the way she scolded him and the harshness of her tone. He’s thinking about how hot she looked with all flustered with a heaving chest. The way her lips seemed fuller and eyes darker. He’s teasing himself at the thought of her whispering dirty things in his ear in that same voice—pinching his rosy nipple between his fingers and giving it a gentle twist.

He wonders what her lips would feel like around him.

His free hand gently slides down his front, softly grasping his rock hard cock in his hand. He seethes quietly, head thrown back as he teases his slit with the tip of his finger, a string of pre-cum connected from his head to the pad of his finger. He swirls his arousal over his length, knows it isn’t enough to get him going but it’s a start.

Harry isn’t sure if he wants to picture her spread out with legs wide or sinking down on her knees in front of him. He’s torn between two of the most orgasmic images he could ever muster up in his dirty little head and for a moment he wonders if he should even be thinking about her at all.

His worry quickly ceases when his mind makes the decision for him and he sees her sinking to her knees, staring up at him through those pretty lashes. He thinks her eyes would be blown, that she’d have this innocent look about her – stronger than what it already is.

Harry slowly pumps himself, sighing out in relief and he pictures her dainty little hands doing it for him, instead. He thinks about Y/N parting her pretty fucking lips for him, thinks what her warm tongue would feel like, her warm mouth wrapped around him. For a hot second, he’s sure he can feel her sucking on his cock, but he opens his eyes and she isn’t there, of course, she isn’t.

He lets out an aggravated sigh and pumps himself harder. His guttural groans bounce off the walls and he’s placing a firm palm against the shower door, steadying himself the best he can. His eyes are shut tight, mind taking over and all Harry can see is Y/N’s dripping fucking pussy just begging to be eaten, to be treated right.

He thinks he can taste her, smell her, and he’s so fucked at the idea of her playing with herself and making him watch. He wonders if she’d touch her pussy and shove her fingers in his mouth, allowing him to taste her, just not from the source.

He’s bucking his hips into his hand, picking up his pace and it feels so good, so good he isn’t sure how long he’s going to last. Harry thinks back to his first day here, to when he heard her crying out in pleasure from the other side of the wall as she touched herself. He wants her moaning like that in his ear, running her tongue up his neck as she fucks herself on his big cock.

He wants her crying out for him, begging him to go faster, harder. He wants to feel her tight little pussy sucking him up, squeezing him like the greedy little cunt he knows it is. He’s losing his rhythm, struggling to keep up the pace and he feels himself throbbing. He’s spluttering out guttural moans, growling in complete and utter ecstasy and soon he’s covering the glass of the shower door with his arousal, painting it with white ribbons.

Harry takes a deep breath, tries to steady himself and get back to reality when he realises who he just got himself off to.

//

It’s quiet, silent, almost. Y/N flicks her salad across her plate, appetite lost the second her father wandered through the front door. Grayson didn’t come alone (not that Y/N expected him to), he wandered through the door with a young blonde on his hip, who Y/N learned was only two years older than her.

“Dinner’s good,” Grayson mumbles with a hand over his mouth. 

He’s dressed in an expensive grey suit and he’s got one of his many Rolex’ on his wrist. Y/N wants to smash it. Instead, she smiles through pursed lips and hums. 

“Yeah, Mum’s recipe. You know, the one she made you seconds before she found out you’d been cheating on her with your assistant.” Y/N replies, tone void of any emotion and she takes a sip of her red wine.

Grayson drops his fork on his plate and glares at his daughter. His plus one, Miley, purses her lips and Y/N knows she feels awkward, and she almost feels bad for her, but then she remembers she’s only with him for his money and she isn’t that bothered again.

“Problem, Grayson?” Y/N makes it clear not to call him her father, doesn’t want to give him the title that he’s done fuck all to earn. That’s one privilege he won’t be given for free. 

“Y/N Jane, watch your mouth,” Grayson warns, dark eyes stern and Y/N glares at the older man, wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to start growing out a beard.

“Or what? You’ll ground me? News flash, asshole, you don’t control me.” She spits, any and all hints of civilness completely diminished and she’s lost her filter along the way. 

Grayson smashes his fist against the table and points to his daughter with gritted teeth, and Y/N’s thankful she didn’t inherit his bad temper.

The noise can be heard from upstairs and Harry puts his guitar down for a moment and tries to strain his ears. He knows Y/N is having a meal with her Dad downstairs, Niall made it very clear for everyone to stay away. 

But now Harry’s a little thirsty and he can’t decide if it’s for water or some tea. He pushes himself up and off the bed, down the hall until he’s at the top of the stairs, leaning down a little so he can hear what’s going on.

“Reel it in, Y/N. You know you won’t get anywhere without me, so I suggest you pay me some respect.” He spits. 

Y/N bows her head and bites back her poison, fingernails denting half-moons into the palms of her hand as she tries to calm herself down.

“I’m already getting somewhere on my own. I got myself this scholarship, and I’m paying my way with my own money.” She argues back through gritted teeth and Harry wants to back her up, knows how fucking hard she works and he’s suddenly desperate to defend her.

Grayson throws his head back with a sadistic chuckle, shaking his head and rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah… and the second you fuck this scholarship up or find yourself with no more money… you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not. You don’t get a fucking choice.” He grits his teeth.

Harry takes a step back in complete disgust and he can tell by Y/N’s silence that he’s hit a nerve. He doesn’t really have time to think before he’s bounding back to his bedroom and climbing out of his bedroom window. He didn’t think to put any shoes on, nor use the fucking door, but he hopes to God he hasn’t got the wrong message.

He climbs down the tree and bends his knees to stick his fall. Harry dusts his hands off on his sweatpants and takes a deep breath, curls an unruly mess. He shakes his shoulders off a little before reaching for the door and knocking three times.

He can hear Y/N pushing her chair out against the hardwood floor, along with her soft footsteps pattering to the door. She opens it, about to greet herself but falls short when she notices it’s only Harry and frowns. She thought he was upstairs.

“Harry?”

“Y/N! Thank God you’re home, I’m sorry it’s late but I’m desperate. I just found out what’s gonna be on the test tomorrow and it’s something I’m so unsure about, and I know you’re an incredible writer, can you help? There’s no way I’m passing this class without you.” He pleads out, and both Y/N and Harry are more than a little shocked at how believable his little act seems.

Y/N splutters for a moment before Harry raises his brow and silently tells her to go along with it. She nods her head and ushers him inside, noticing the lack of shoes as she peers down and she wonders how the fuck he got outside.

“Um…” before Y/N can somehow come up with a way to politely tell Grayson to fuck off, he’s wiping his mouth and standing from his seat, shaking his head. 

“It’s fine, we were just leaving,” he tells them, Miley soon following and Grayson doesn’t bother to kiss Y/N’s forehead goodbye.

Instead, he brushes past both her and Harry while Miley awkwardly follows. Y/N stands there with pursed lips as she closes the front door. Harry watches her intently, notices the way her right brow twitches and he supposes it’s a tell of hers. She clears her throat and wanders to the kitchen, grouping up the half-empty plates from the table.

Harry helps, doesn’t miss the way Y/N looks at him as they empty the dishes and place them in the sink. He’s leaning against the counter when Y/N runs the water, grabbing the sponge and cleaning the plates off with soapy water. 

“I’m sorry, about yesterday.” Harry breaks the silence with a soft apology.

Y/N stills, hands soaked in the sink as she takes in his words. His voice is soft and tender, and somehow, she knows he’s being sincere. She shakes her head and forces on a smile. 

“It’s okay,” she mumbles back, stacking the plates on the dish rack and shaking her hands off.

Harry scoffs and hands her a kitchen towel to dry her hands. “No, it’s not,” he insists. “I was a dick and you don’t deserve that, ever.” 

She’s avoiding his gaze so Harry dips his head and cranes his neck until he knows she can see him. She huffs out a small laugh and finally faces him, cheeks still a little flushed and Harry finally notices the dark circles under her eyes.

“It’s okay,” she shrugs. 

Harry groans and widens his eyes at her playfully. “Stop saying that!” he exclaims, enticing the most beautiful fucking laugh from her lips and he can’t help but grin so happily at her. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she laughs and Harry raises his hands in the air, can’t understand how this smart young woman doesn’t get what he’s saying.

“And don’t apologise! You have nothing to apologise for.” He reminds her, and Y/N thinks for a second, thinks about his complete change in personality and she wonders if this is just Harry when he’s relaxed; playful and kind. She wishes she always saw this side of him, the fluffy hair and flushed cheeks.

“Okay,” she whispers breathlessly as she stares at him. 

Y/N notices a scar on his cheek, wonders if he got it from a bar fight or something a little purer like a childhood battle scar. She wants to rub her thumb over his soft skin and for a split second, she feels her hand reaching out to touch him, but she quickly stops herself.

Harry feels like his apology isn’t enough, that she deserves more. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back as he scratches the nape of his neck and clears his throat. He points up to the ceiling and scuffs his feet against the floor. 

“I’m gonna uh, go back…” he trails off and he doesn’t know why he’s being so awkward.

Y/N giggles out a laugh and nods her head, shoulders light and she doesn’t feel as tense anymore. 

“Goodnight, Harry.” she smiles softly, twiddling her fingers and Harry’s stomach does a little flip at it. He smiles and nods. 

“Night, Y/N,” he whispers, turning around but looking back at her over his shoulder.

He makes his way upstairs with a silly lovesick grin and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. He feels relieved, thankful. And it shows on his face when he pounces on the bed with a grin, heart thumping in his chest and he hopes to God maybe she feels the same, he just doesn’t know why.

//

It’s nearing five p.m. when Y/N comes strolling through the front door. She’s got a shit-eating grin on her face and excitement is seeping through her pores. She’s hopping on the balls of her feet as she closes the door behind her, cheeks beginning to ache but she can’t find it in herself to care.

She’s skipping through the foyer and straight into the kitchen when Raegan and Dean quickly jump away from each other. As if Y/N didn’t already know. She doesn’t say anything, can’t really think about anything other what’s to come tonight.

Dean squints at her. “What’s got you all chipper?” He asks and Y/N shies her face into her shoulder for a second before bouncing on her toes and clapping her hands. 

“I have a date!” 

Heads turn her way and Y/N finally acknowledges the rest of her housemates as they gather around her like she’s discovered fire.

“You… have a date? As in Y/N Jane Y/L/N, has a date?” Oliver quips, sheer confusion and disbelief laced in his tone and Y/N tries to not be wounded. 

She scoffs instead. “Gee, thanks, Olly.” 

He tries to stammer out that he didn’t mean it in the way she took it, but when Raegan swiftly jabs him in the ribs with an elbow, he falls silent.

“So….” Raegan raises her shoulders and brows expectantly and Y/N states at her blankly. “Who are you going on a date with!?” She hoots out, arms outstretched by her sides and wonders how her friend is so fucking absent all the time.

Y/N’s eyes ignite up and she grins. “Oh! Uh, Liam, the guy from the bar.” Y/N softly answers and she suddenly feels like they’re about to interrogate her, kill the lights and force her onto a stool. They don’t. 

“Oh, you mean Liam from Psych 101.” Dean clicks his fingers and Y/N nods her head sheepishly.

It’s hushed for a moment. “Wow, really? Liam from Psych 101 asked you out?” He repeats and Y/N feels that little tug in the pit of her stomach. 

Ah, they’re surprised, and by the tone of their voices and looks on their faces, she’s guessing they’re astounded that he asked her out, of all people.

“Liam from Psych 101 asked who out?” a gentle voice quarrels through the room. 

Harry bounces in easily, an airy vibe to his mood. He locks eyes with Y/N for a moment and he offers a tender smile.

It’s been exactly nine days since he played the hero in her time of need, and they’ve spoken every day since. They’re friends, to say the least. And although neither of them are subtle with their lingering glances and sheepish smiles, they’re also both completely and utterly oblivious.

“Y/N… can you believe it.” Dean says, and both Harry and Y/N’s smiles plummet, though both for completely different reasons. 

Harry just raises his eyebrows a little, hopes that they will lift the rest of his face and tug on the corners of his mouth to keep that fucking smile on his lips, though the frown lies heavy and he finds himself struggling.

“You’re going on a date.” He breathes out, nodding to himself as he clamps his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Harry isn’t sure why the new information has plagued him, not when he’s still been seeing Corina every other day and the fact that there is absolutely nothing between him and Y/N that goes beyond the means of a flourishing friendship.

“Like… like a date date?” Niall peeks at his friend.

Y/N shrugs and offers a timid smile, tucking tufts of hair behind her ear and she glows just a little, though she isn’t sure why. 

“So you’re missing movie night?” Mackey finally pipes up, words stifled by the piece of cake he’s just shoved in his mouth.

Y/N purses her lips and nods her head. She feels a little wrong. Movie night has always been her idea and she’s always given the other’s shit if they’ve missed one for whatever reason. Movie night is the equivalent of family night to Y/N, and she feels like she’s about to disappoint her family.

“Okay.” Raegan shrugs and Y/N feels a little load lifted from her shoulders. 

It’s silent again and she can feel Harry’s indifferent eyes on her and she doesn’t quite know why. 

“Um, Mais… will you help me get ready?” Y/N asks softly to her friend. 

Maisee raises her head from the book she was reading, hasn’t bothered to acknowledge Y/N’s news. She’s has hardly spoken to Y/N since the night of Harry’s surprise party, and it’s beginning to bother her. Y/N isn’t sure if she’s done something to upset her friend, she just wants things back to how they used to be. Maisee evades eye contact as she clears her throat and stands from her seat.

“Actually, I’m kinda busy. I’m sure Raegan can help.” She stammers out, surging past the group and leaping up the steps. No one seems to notice the strain between them or the way Y/N’s smile sinks into a grimace.

Harry purses his lips and steps out of the room, silently trailing Maisee up the stairs and he hinders her before she can get into her bedroom. 

“What the hell is your problem?” He quips out quietly. 

She spins and frowns, books grasped to her chest and Harry takes a few more undecided steps toward her.

“Excuse me?”

Harry jeers. “Y/N. What the fuck is your problem with her? Ever since the party you’ve been a no-show when she’s needed you. And back there, you literally blew her off in front of everyone. So what the fuck is your problem?” He’s essentially fermenting.

Harry doesn’t know what comes over him, can’t understand why he’s so hellbent on fixing their friendship. Before Maisee can say anything, Harry’s shaking his head and turning his back to her, stomping off into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

Maisee stands there, dazed. She’s more than a little speechless but part of her isn’t surprised. She’s had an inkling that there might’ve been something going on between Y/N and Harry and now she’s dead certain there is.

He’s right though. Maisee’s been avoiding her. She blames herself, for what happened with Chris at Harry’s party, and she knows Y/N’s too fucking nice to blame her, too. Maisee drops her books off on the desk in her room, staring at the pinboard on the wall. There’s polaroids of them both, Y/N and Maisee, smiling and giggling without a care in the world.

Maisee takes a deep breath and wanders to Y/N’s bedroom, knocking on the open door and taking a step in. Y/N sits on the edge of her bed with a solemn look, gorgeous hair, that Maisee’s always been jealous of, covering her face and she picks at her fingernails. Nervous habit.

“Hey,” Maisee whispers, Y/N’s head snapping up and her eyes are wide, hopeful. 

“Hi,” Y/N breathes and her shoulders raise as hope and love bubble inside her. She just wants her best friend back.

Maisee takes a seat beside her and smiles through pursed lips. “I wouldn’t have come up here if Harry didn’t convince me.” She admits, and part of Y/N appreciates her honesty. She stares at her with a slight frown and somewhat squinted eyes.

“Harry spoke to you?” She asks, and Maisee doesn’t bother to hide the humorous smile on her lips as she stares at the carpet beneath her. 

“Yeah, reminded me of what a shitty friend I’ve been lately,” She chuckles out dryly.

Y/N purses her lips. “You haven’t—” She’s cut off with a sharp scoff. 

“I have, don’t even try to deny it.” She insists. 

Y/N stays quiet, stares at the carpet too and this is the most conversation they’ve had in three weeks.

“I’m sorry.” Maisee’s apology echos through the room and Y/N smiles softly, a little happier now. 

Partly because she already forgave Maisee, the other part because Harry went out of his way to do something nice for her, for no reason. A blush squirms on her faded cheeks at the thought.

“Me too.”

// 

It’s midnight.

Her feet are raw, her jaw throbs and she’s pretty sure her eyes resemble a panda’s. Her heels (that she borrowed from Maisee) are dangling from her fingertips by the straps and the soles of her feet are covered in dirt. 

She’s silent, stealth like. She doesn’t want anyone to hear her sneaking in, nor see that look of utter exhaustion and embarrassment on her face. Her aching toes pad up the stairs, teeth clenched like that’ll somehow keep her movements light and silent.

She thinks she’s made it, that she could be considered for the Secret Service, but she forgets the uneven floorboard outside her bedroom and it creaks, reverberating through the empty hall. She stills for a moment, eyes clutched shut, lips pursed in a fine line like it’ll make a difference.

It doesn’t, and Harry pokes his head out of his door and smiles when he sees the side of her face that’s masked by her hair. 

“Hey… how was your date?” He asks smoothly, running across his face and he stifles a yawn.

Y/N clears her throat and sniffs. 

“Yeah, it was okay.” She mutters, uninterested. Harry frowns and steps out of his doorway and toward her. 

“Just okay? What’s wrong? You sound upset.” He notices, warm hand caressing the side of her cold arm and she finally turns around to him.

She looks absolutely fucking devastated and something about her tottering eyes and quivering lips hurts him. 

“He stood me up.” She sniffles, eyes flooding with fresh tears and he doesn’t have time to think before he’s pulling her into his chest and keeping her close.

She’s wailing into his soft, blue shirt and she feels so bad for ruining it with her makeup, but Harry shows he doesn’t care when he cradles her head snug into his chest and gently coos her. 

“You’re okay, honey… it’s okay.” He isn’t sure where the nickname comes from, he’s never been one to use them, but it feels right, like it was made just for her.

Harry reaches behind her and opens her bedroom door, carefully ushering her inside and she sits on the foot of her bed as Harry detaches himself for her. He suddenly feels aloof. He reaches over and closes the door before making his way into her bathroom, grabbing a pack of makeup wipes from her sink and pulling one out of the packet.

“Hey, shh. Look at me, okay?” He whispers, benevolently guiding her hands from her face and he’s surprising himself with this new side of him. 

Y/N swallows, breath caught in her throat as she does so and she’s so fucking enthralled by his kindness.

He gently wipes under her eyes, removing the smudged mascara stroking her soft cheek with his other hand. She stares at him for a moment, almost disregarding why he’s there, but then she remembers.

“Why am I never enough for anyone?” Y/N whimpers out and Harry quickly realises he’s on deep and untouched territory. 

His mind is screaming at him to run, to get the hell out of dodge… but his heart beats softly and he knows he needs to stay. She needs company and comfort, and he… Well, he needs to know that she’s okay.

“You’re more than enough, honey. Don’t do that to yourself. He’s a dick, okay? He doesn’t deserve you.” Harry comforts her, makeup wipe on the floor as he cups her swollen cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“Y/N Jane, you are the kindest soul I have ever met. You are smart, talented, funny, strong. You are so beautiful, Y/N. I promise you.” His voice is straining like he’s desperate for her to hear and believe his words. 

She does. For a fleeting moment, she does.

And then she kisses him.

Harry’s never been one to get nervous. Never had the experience of sweaty palms and frantic butterflies in his stomach, or a dazed head and blushed cheeks. But all at once he’s experiencing them when her lips meet his. 

His mind is in a frenzy, body still as a rock and he can physically hear his heartbeat in his ears. He moves quickly, though. He cups her pretty little face in the palms of his hands and his eyes gently flutter closed. He’s losing himself in it, in her.

Her lips are sweet… plump and soft and Harry can’t believe he’s kissing her. Y/N threads her dainty fingers through his wispy curls and gives them a generous little tug. He’s seeing stars, his lips are tingling. 

Y/N subtly slides her warm tongue between his lips, the sudden boldness catching Harry off guard and he pants slightly into her mouth. She tastes like cherries with a hint of peppermint and Harry finds himself completely mesmerised by it.

Harry’s hand sneaks its way to the back of her neck, slim fingers twirling her locks and tugging ever so gently, but it only makes her more eager. She’s shifting to the very edge of the bed, fingernails scratching at the nape of his neck and he lets out a soft groan against her lips.

Y/N pulls away, panting with what Harry can only guess to be a dizzy smile and she purses her lips to bite back a soft laugh. 

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” She giggles through her embarrassment and Harry can feel the heat that rises to her cheeks.

He clears his throat, his forehead resting on hers and he nibbles on his bottom lip, savouring the taste of her that’s varnished him. 

“No, it’s… it’s okay.” He tries to assure her, though there’s a thick silence that sits on them as they continue to lean into each other. 

Harry doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. This isn’t like him, he doesn’t do this kind of shit. But it’s her, it’s Y/N and Harry doesn’t want to pull away. He doesn’t want to feel the coldness of her body not being close enough.

The silence becomes unbearable and Y/N really can’t help the bubble of obnoxious laughter that bursts out of her. She’s embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed and she hopes to God that Harry will never tell anyone what she just did.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Her laughter rolls off into waves of soft whines and Harry thinks that she regrets it, regrets him. 

It’s a sudden feeling of red hot fire all over and an unfamiliar sting in his gut. He’s hurt, he just doesn’t understand why.

“I should uh… I’ll go, let you get some sleep.” He clears his throat with a soft smile and Y/N finally pulls off from him, a fair distance between their lips again but she still can’t seem to tear her eyes away from them.

Y/N nods her head and lets out a soft smile, breathing still a little shaky and Harry has to remind himself that he’s not hers. It’s not his job to reassure her, to love her. It’s not his job. 

“Yeah… uh, goodnight.” She stutters out, wiping her clammy hands on the sides of her black dress and Harry clears his throat for what feels like the tenth time tonight.

He leans up on his toes until he’s standing tall once more, brushing off his hands and wandering toward the door. She watches his back as he walks away and freezes when he slowly opens it. 

“I uh, I took your advice, by the way. About Professor Lennon.” He tells her, back still facing her body but Y/N shoots up to her feet and her jaw slacks a little.

“I showed him some music. He wants me to write an original for him, a demo, by Wednesday.” He looks over his shoulder at her and she’s grinning so fucking wide, and Harry is almost certain he can see tears pooling in those gorgeous eyes of hers.

“I’m proud of you.” She whispers and this time, it’s Harry’s eyes that start to water. 

He offers a smile through pursed lips and rushes out of her room and into his. The second he closes the door, his chest is heaving and he can still feel her body on his.

//

It’s noon when Harry leaves Professor Lennon’s room, guitar in one hand and music sheets in the other. There’s a cool breeze casting over the quad and students chatter softly as they study on the grass. Harry’s minding his own business when he notices a loud ruckus of chatter and laughter from a little further ahead.

“Should’a seen her, looked so fuckin’ stupid.” The blond snickers, his friends laughing along and Harry notices something familiar about him. 

Harry squints at him a little longer until it clicks. Liam. He remembers that smug fucking face from when he looked him up on Instagram after leaving Y/N’s room last night.

Harry bites down on his tongue and makes his way over to the small group, their chatter and excitement dying down when they notice the unfamiliar face and Harry offers a feigned friendly smile as he sets his guitar case and music notes down against a tree.

“Hey, you’re Liam, right? The guy that stood up Y/N Y/L/N?” Harry asks, a hint of amusement in his tone and Liam grins, smacking a friend in the chest as he tries to buff himself out. 

He looks so smug… proud, and Harry wants to wipe it off his face.

“Yeah, who are you?” He puffs out his chest and takes a step forward, shoulders rolled back and Harry can’t help but scoff to himself. 

What the hell did Y/N see in this douche? 

Harry rolls his tongue and clenches a fist, swinging it until his knuckles collide with Liam’s nose and he’s stumbling back as he clutches his bloody face.

It spirals from there, punches, kicks, hair pulling. It all goes so fast that Harry doesn’t feel the black eye and cut up cheek and brow until he’s sat in Aunt Cathy’s office and his hands and body are fucking throbbing. He caught a couple of kicks to the stomach, and even though Harry was beaten blue by four guys, Liam still looks worse than him.

Harry smiles to himself.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts and ego that he blanks out the majority of the lecture Cathy gives them. Harry bounces his knee as he chews at the insides of his cheeks and Cathy quickly grows sick of his nonchalant.

“Liam, you can go.” She huffs, head nodding to the door and he scoffs something out under his breath, not giving Harry a second glance. 

Cathy notices the limp in his walk and the way he holds his left arm as he moves and closes the door behind him.

She closes her eyes and sighs. “Strike one.” She tells him, doesn’t need to look at him to know that his stupid smile is wiped off his face. 

She hears him clear his throat and croak out a half-assed apology that she doesn’t care for. She shoos him out of her room just as quickly and Harry’s begrudgingly walking toward his Jeep as he holds an ice pack to his knuckles and tries to ignore the iron taste of blood on his tongue.

He’s proud, that’s for sure. Knows Liam deserved it and Harry would quite happily lay into him all over again. He supposes he shouldn’t, though. He’s earning all kinds of looks from girls as he walks by them. Hungry eyes and pursed lips and Harry supposes they’re just desperate for a good fuck. He growls to himself at the idea but clears his head as he climbs into the Jeep and turns on the engine.

It’s proven a struggle when Harry tries to steer his way back to the house while holding his knuckles and his eye is beginning to close due to the swelling. He makes it, though, just about. He throws the Jeep in park and leaves it on the drive, staggering up the steps to the front door as he carries his music sheets and guitar in one hand.

Once he’s through the door, Harry decides he isn’t going back through it again today. He kicks his shoes off and heads straight upstairs. Harry only assumes the house is empty by the sheer silence of it and he discards his music sheets and guitar on the bed as he makes his way to the bathroom to take a shower.

His knuckles ache when the water cascades down his body, a large purple bruise forming around his eye and he debates whether or not he should go and find Liam to finish the job. He decides against it. He has homework.

Y/N is fuming. Her face is hot and her little hands are clenched into fists by her sides. She doesn’t bother greeting anyone when she gets home, completely ignores them all and takes to the stairs. She bounds up them two at a time, could do three if her legs were a little longer. Her heavy footsteps can be heard as she crashes down the hall, drowning out the chatter from everyone downstairs and Y/N barges straight into his bedroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” She yelps out as she pushes the door open. 

Harry’s got his back to her, pulling his white shirt over his head and he spins around with wide eyes. Y/N’s glare drops and her own eyes widen, watering just as quickly and her shoulder sag.

She covers her mouth with her hands. He’s got a black eye and a cut eyebrow. His sunkissed, tattooed stomach is bruised and her breathing is caught in her throat. Harry drops the shirt on the bed and scratches at the back of his neck, his muscles taut and she can’t look away.

“Harry,” She gasps out as she stretches for him, delicate fingertips pressing on his bruised torso but he pulls away with a hiss. 

Y/N stares at him in grief and drops her hands to her side. “Why did you do that?” She asks breathlessly, her chest rising and falling and it burns her to see him like that.

He stares at her for a while, doesn’t understand why she’s so upset, so worried about him. He supposes it’s because she’s just a nice person, but another part of him, deep down, prays to God that she cares for another reason.

He shrugs, takes a step closer and brushes a strand of hair from her face—doesn’t want her to think he’s being cold by brushing her off just seconds prior. Harry finally gets a good look at her. Summer dress and tennis shoes with that florist’s apron wrapped around her front. Just like the first time they met. 

Harry beams, heart ricocheting. He thinks back to the first time he saw her, how he supposed she was pretty. He looks at her now and sees the stars. Like she’s got this glowing tint around her silhouette and Harry swears she’s the most precious fucking thing he’s ever seen.

“He treated you like shit, Y/N/N.” 

There he goes again, with the Goddamn nicknames. 

She stares up at him like he’s the unknown eighth wonder of the world and she feels like her heart might leap out of her throat any second. 

“Wasn’t going to let him get away with it.” His voice dies off into a whisper.

Their noses are almost touching and neither of them are quite sure how they’ve grown this close without moving. Harry’s still got his fingers in her hair, twirling the soft curls around and she’s unknowingly nuzzling into his touch. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed, feels like she’s on cloud nine and she’s struggling so fucking hard to keep her lips off his and her heart beats erratically.

Harry eyes her, watches the way her lashes gently flutter and he’s about to lean in, about to allow himself to taste her one more time, and then his phone rings. It’s an obnoxious blaring that breaks them apart and Y/N’s eyes look to the bed, reading the name that lights up the screen with the incoming call.

Corina x

Y/N feels her heart sink, knew it was too good to be true. As if someone like him could ever be interested in someone like her. She feels a bubble of hurt in her stomach and she swallows her insecurities, spinning on her feet and leaving Harry alone to stare at the phone on his bed.

He closes his eyes when he hears Y/N leave, a sigh slipping from his lips and he pinches at the bridge of his nose, feels so fucking stupid. He picks up the phone, raising it to his ear. 

“What?” he spits out through gritted teeth, hand in his unruly curls and he tugs.

She invites him over, in that sickly sweet voice that he’s growing to hate lately. But it’s dripping with sex and he can tell she’s wet just by the way she’s breathing down the phone. Harry’s mind falls on Y/N for a moment, wondering if this is something he should be doing. 

But he isn’t with Y/N, they’re not a thing, not even close, and Harry knows he needs to stop himself from imagining them as such.

“I’ll be there in ten.” He grumbles into the phone, shoving it in the pocket of his sweatpants and he struggles to put a shirt back on. 

Harry shoves his feet into a pair of nearby sneakers, grabbing his keys and a jacket on the way out of his bedroom.

He bounces down the stairs, little Harry growing more and more excited the closer he gets to have her lips wrapped around him, but that lovely image is quickly torn from his mind when he sees Y/N speaking softly to a man with a familiar head of hair. Harry frowns, takes slow and easy steps down the stairs and he can smell the cologne he grew up with.

Y/N looks past him and up at Harry, heat on her cheeks and she smiles softly. He notices and spins around, an unimpressed look on his face and Harry gulps, brows still furrowed.

“Dad?”

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Harry.”

// 

Shopping bags smack at their thighs with every step they take, but both young ladies have blocked that out since they walked past Claire’s seventeen minutes ago. It’s quiet for a Tuesday afternoon and Y/N’s quite thankful for it. She’s got her arm linked with Maisee’s as they pass the water fountain and slowly window-shop their afternoon away.

Y/N’s been blabbering non-stop since they left the house this morning. She’s told Maisee all the juicy details of the kiss, the way he held her and touched her. Maisee looked like she was about to combust with happiness and Y/N tried her hardest to calm her friend down, but that didn’t stop her from screaming it at the top of her lungs.

“But, who’s Corina?” Maisee huffs, brows furrowed and Y/N tries to hide her disappointment but it’s no use, Maisee knows her like the back of her hand. 

She pinches Y/N’s arm and gives her a look, a look that tells her to stop comparing herself to someone she doesn’t even know. Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Did he meet her?” she asks quietly, like she’s afraid to mention the mystery girl again in case Y/N bursts into tears or breaks someone’s arm. 

Y/N shakes her head with a sigh instead. “I think he was going to, but his dad showed up,” Y/N explains with a little shrug of her shoulders.

“Is he hot? He must be hot, Harry’s hot… he has to get his looks from somewhere,” Maisee mutters to herself, nibbling on her red stained bottom lip at the thought and Y/N cringes beside her. 

“First of all, ew, gross. Second of all, he’s just… just a dad.” She doesn’t really know how else to describe the older man, other than that Harry’s the spitting image of him.

“Whatever, I’m ninety-three per cent sure Harry’s into you,” Maisee concludes, shoulders shrugging and she’s got that look on her face that says this isn’t up for discussion, and Y/N just sighs. 

“What was his dad doing there anyway?” She asks again as they make their way to the parking lot, swarmed by darkness and sharp headlights of the cars that drive past.

Y/N shrugs again. That seems to be all she’s doing today. 

“Probably because Harry got into that fight with Liam. Everyone knows about it,” Y/N mumbles out, worried that her name is attached to it and she doesn’t want to be associated with what happened, even if it did happen because of her.

“That is a prime example of him having feels for you,” Maisee points out as Y/N digs through her purse for her keys.

She pretends to ignore Maisee’s comment like she doesn’t hear it, but part of Y/N wants to believe her, wants it to be true. She shakes the thought from her head and unlocks the car, trunk popping open and they throw their bags inside.

“Where to? Wanna come do grocery shopping with me?” Maisee asks. 

Y/N looks at her with squinted eyes, knows Maisee fucking hates doing the grocery shop on her own, but Maisee also knows she doesn’t have a choice. Y/N shakes her head as she starts the engine, watches her friend throw her head back with a drastic groan and whine.

“But… my car’s in the garage, remember? How am I meant to get to the store and bring all the stuff back?” Maisee argues, hopes that she might be able to guilt Y/N into it, but she’s not taking Maisee’s bullshit. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m letting you borrow my car.” She grins, pulling out of their parking space while Maisee wails.

//

He’s got a beer in his hand as he stares at the tree at the back of the garden. It’s hot, too hot, actually, and his shirt is long forgotten as sweat begins to pool in the little divots of flesh that sculpt his abs. They sit together in silence, father and son, and it’s eating at Harry… just wants to know where he stands.

After Richie showed up last night, Y/N had left them both to themselves where he gave Harry the Dad Look and sat him down in the kitchen, told him he needs he to get his act together or else. Harry knew the threat wasn’t empty, so it was also no surprise when Richie told him he was staying for a few days to keep an eye on him.

Subsequently, this meant no sex for Harry.

Richie’s sitting beside him, shirt by his feet and he’s got his arms behind his head as he relaxes in the sun lounger. He’s got a full chest of hair, something he always told Harry made him a man when Harry was younger, and sweat begins to glisten on his sunkissed skin. He’s relaxed, a beer beside him and a little smile on his lips, eyes hidden behind his black tinted sunglasses.

“How’s Mum and Gemma?” Harry breaks the silence, voice a little raspy after not speaking a word for over an hour and Richie hums at the mention of his beloved ladies. 

“They’re good. Maybe you’d know that if you called once in a while,” he quips and Harry closes his eyes, knows his Dad is right and nods his head.

Richie feels bad. He shouldn’t, because what he said is true… but he knows his son, and he knows how much Harry loves his Mum and sister. He also knows that Harry distances himself for his family when he feels himself spiralling, or feels like he’s a disappointment. Richie doesn’t tell Harry that’s the real reason he’s here… to remind him he is loved.

“Mum’s okay, she misses you,” Richie says, Harry nodding with a hint of a smile on his lips. 

He misses her, more than anything. And he knows she’s only an hours drive away, but he doesn’t think he can face her. Doesn’t want to disappoint her.

“And your sister… well, she’s sixteen going on twenty-five and I can’t keep up,” Richie laughs out, eyes crinkling behind his glasses and Harry does the same. If anyone were to walk past, they’d probably think they were looking at the same person, just twenty-five years apart.

It’s silent again for a brief moment when their laughter dies down and Harry’s left in his thoughts. Richie chews on his bottom lip, stares at the grass. 

“You gotta get your shit together, Harry.” He mumbles out to his son, doesn’t miss the way Harry’s head whips round to face him but Richie keeps his focus on the green grass across the garden. 

“You want to pursue music but you’re not gonna get anywhere with it if you get kicked out of this place. I’m serious, Harry. What’s going on with you?” Harry looks away.

He thinks about Richie’s words, knows he’s right, like always, and it hurts. It hurts to be the family disappointment. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers out, brows knitted together and he picks at his bruising knuckles, doesn’t wanna look at his Dad and see the sadness on his face.

Richie sighs and sits up, legs hanging over the side of the chair and he leans his elbows on his knees. 

“We’re always going to be proud of you, Harry. You’re my son, and I love you. You just gotta figure out what’s going on in your head. You’re not seventeen anymore. It’s time to grow up.” It isn’t a lecture or a telling-off, it’s advice, solid advice that Harry needs to follow.

He nods and tilts his head, smiles through pursed lips and Richie smacks him on the back of his shoulder in a loving matter. 

“Now enough of this sappy shit, go get me another beer.” Richie smacks him again as he swings his legs back onto the sunlounger and relaxes, Harry’s sweet laughter music to his ears and he can’t remember the last time he heard his boy laugh like that. It’s nice.

Harry’s still smiling to himself when he wanders into the kitchen through the back patio doors, giggling softly when he opens the fridge and pulls out to cool cans of Corona. He kicks the door shut, about to go back into the garden when he hears the front door open and the muffled voice of Y/N call out, “Anyone home? Little help!”

He spins and approaches the door, watches as she’s weighed down by at least twelve shopping bags and she struggles to keep the door from closing on her with the side of her foot. 

“Oh, shit, Y/N.” His eyes widen at her struggle and he quickly places the beers on the counter behind him, racing to her and taking the majority of her bags from her quivering arms.

Y/N sighs out in appreciation and kicks the door shut, shoving the bags to the floor and Harry does the same. She pushes her straightened hair from her hair and lets out a breath, looking up at Harry and drinking him in. God, he looks so good, she thinks and forces herself to look away from his sweating torso.

“You okay, honey?” he asks with a soft laugh, a small smile beaming on her lips and she nods breathlessly, wiping her clammy hands on her ripped jeans. 

“Yeah, Maisee had me drag all this in because I wouldn’t do the grocery shop with her,” Y/N explains and Harry rolls his eyes in the nicest way he can.

“She knows the rules,” he replies and Y/N raises her eyebrows, nodding in agreement but they both know that doesn’t make a difference. 

“You been sunbathing?” she asks with a soft laugh, wandering into the kitchen. 

Harry walks behind her and nods, clearing his throat when he realises she doesn’t see the reply.

“Yeah, it’s nice out,” he says, scratching the back of his neck when he sees her reach up to grab a glass from the cupboard. 

She turns and smiles at him when she gets it, running the tap and she squints her eyes, smile only growing. Harry squints back at her, a nervous smile on his face and he wonders why she’s looking at him like that.

“What?” he asks cautiously and she shakes her head, filling her glass and shutting the water off. 

“Your hair looks good like that.” Y/N grins, eyes up the black headband he’s using to keep his curls from falling in his face and Harry blushes like crazy when he realises. He purses his lips to hide his grin and Y/N splutters into her glass of water as she tries to take a sip.

Harry shakes his head and reaches for the fruit bowl. 

“Oh, you’re so funny, aren’t you, honey,” he teases as he picks off a single grape, throwing it at her forehead and they both shriek when it bounces off and into her glass of water. 

Harry giggles as he walks closer, takes her hand in his that holds the glass. She stares at him as he dips his fingers into her water and pulls out the grape, popping it into his mouth and he smiles.

“Almost as sweet as you,” he mumbles and Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes and splutter out a laugh. 

She turns and pours the rest of her water down the sink but Harry just watches the side of her face as she tries to hide her smile.

Richie watches them both from the patio doors, his shirt back on and sunglasses sitting on the top of his head. He watches the way Harry looks at her, the glimmer in his eyes and the ghost of a smile on his lips. He knows the look because it’s the same look he gives his wife… the love of his life.

Richie clears his throat, decides he’s seen and heard enough and Y/N spins around, eyes a little wide but she relaxes when she sees who it is. 

“Mr. Styles, hi,” Y/N greets him with a smile and Richie nods his head at her. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiles back and Harry watches from across the room.

He reaches for the beers and takes a few steps closer until he’s behind Y/N, towering over her. 

“You comin’?” He asks her softly, feels her side brush against him when she turns and she smiles gratefully but shakes her head. 

“No, I’ve got work in ten and then I’m at the diner until close,” she explains with pursed lips. Harry nods, heart aching and this time, Harry knows what it is. Disappointment.

“Anyways, enjoy the sun. See you guys later.” Y/N bids them goodbye before she slips past Harry and jumps up the stairs two at a time, heading to her bedroom to grab her apron and diner uniform, and she’s out the front door just seconds after.

// 

It’s almost 5 p.m. and Y/N is tired. The flower shop has been quiet, the regular old man Mike coming in at three for flowers for his wife, a couple of party planners and young girl buying flowers for her mother. 

Y/N’s feet are starting to ache but if she acknowledges it now, it’ll make her seven-hour shift at the diner hell. She’s removing thorns from a bunch of roses at the counter when she hears the little bell above the door sound.

She looks up and places the clippers on the counter, a small smile on her lips when she sees who it is. 

“Hi,” she beams, happy to have some sort of human interaction after sitting in the shop alone for almost an hour. 

Richie smiles and makes his way to the counter and Y/N notices the sparkle in his eyes. The same sparkle as Harry’s. 

“What can I get you?” she asks politely, hands leaning on the counter and Richie takes a second to appreciate the beautiful flowers that decorate the shop. 

“I go back home tomorrow, wanna get some flowers for my lady.” He tells her, asks for the brightest and prettiest bunch of flowers she can.

Y/N grins and accepts the challenge, leaves the counter to pick different flowers from pre-assembled bunches and she brings back more than enough to the counter. Richie watches the small smile on her face as she picks and places them together, cutting most down to size.

She’s not like Harry’s normal type, Richie thinks. Harry’s never had a thing for quiet girls before, at least not that Richie knows of anyway. She’s a sweet girl, seems to have her head on straight and he knows she’s serious about her education and life in general. Richie thinks she’s exactly what Harry needs and his heart bursts a little.

“So, how long have you been seeing my boy?” He asks out of the blue and Y/N almost snips the tip of her finger off. 

She places the scissors down and lets out a shaky, breathy laugh. She clears her throat and places the flowers onto the counter, looking up at the older man and he stares at her, expectantly.

“No, uh… we’re not..” she trails off, but Richie raises his eyebrows higher, not buying her excuse. “We’re friends, known each other about two months now.” She defends, though she isn’t sure why she feels so defensive, like she needs to make him believe what she’s saying.

Richie nods and squints at her, humming an “mhm” like he knows something she doesn’t. 

“What?” she laughs awkwardly, heat rising to the apples of her cheeks and Richie just smiles at her, like he’s so proud and thankful, but all Y/N is, is confused.

He shakes his head. 

“Nothing…” She knows he has more to say, so she raises her brows and he huffs. “Just that in all the years I’ve raised Harry, I’ve never known him to use endearing nicknames… and I heard him call you two in a matter of ten seconds back in the house.” Y/N grows shy, sinks into herself a little at his words and she doesn’t know what to do or say.

“Not to mention he looks at you the way I look at the love of my life, but hey, what does an old man like me know.” 

He smiles kindly and Y/N begins to spiral deep in her thoughts, unable to come up with a believable excuse and her mouth runs dry, heart thumping like there’s no tomorrow as she mindlessly finishes assembling Richie’s bouquet. She places it on the counter as he drops a twenty beside it, taking the bouquet in his hands and smelling the flowers.

“Thank you for the flowers, Y/N.” He smiles at her, but she’s completely frozen in her spot, brows furrowed slightly and Richie spins around, reaching for the door when she finally snaps out of the daze she put herself in.

“Richie!” She calls out before he has the chance to open the door, his name a pleasant shock and he raises his brows at her. She scuffs her feet behind the counter. 

“What do you mean Harry doesn’t do nicknames? Why not?” She asks, curious, and the question alone tells Richie everything he needs to know.

He smiles at the girl. “To Harry, nicknames mean attachment, and Harry’s never let himself get attached to anyone.” He explains, voice soft and barely audible but Y/N hears and hangs onto every word he utters. 

Before she can even process them and ask him something else, the door is chiming and he’s gone.

// 

It’s past one when Y/N stumbles into the house. Her feet are completely raw and her legs are frozen after walking home from the diner in a yellow miniskirt. She closes the front door behind her, kicking off her tennis shoes and rubbing the sleep from beneath her eyes. She’s shrugging her jacket off when she hears it from upstairs—the yelling and stomping.

She frowns and hangs her jacket on the wall, small steps leading her to the bottom of the stairs. A tall blonde, well, taller than Y/N, comes bounding down the stairs, her jeans half buttoned and shirt all messed up. She’s furious, red in the face and gritting her teeth. Y/N’s about to ask if she’s okay when she shoves into her and almost knocks her flying.

Harry’s bounding down the stairs just as quick, catching Y/N’s arm before she can hit the floor and pulling her into him. Her palm presses against his bare chest, feels the fine hairs that decorate his skin and she’s overwhelmed and confused. It’s not until she puts the pieces together that she realises the girl is Corina and her and Harry have clearly just ended their night in a different way than planned.

Corina notices the lingering touch they share and the way he stares at her, eyes frantic like he’s making sure there’s not a scratch on her, and she scoffs. She stares at Y/N in disgust, knows who she is and she can’t help but stare at her clothes, blood boiling. 

“Of course, she’s a fucking waitress.” And Y/N’s offended, doesn’t understand what she’s done to get the sharp end of this.

Just as quickly as she spits the words, she’s running out of the door and leaving it wide open. Harry says nothing, doesn’t follow her, just closes and locks the door before turning back to Y/N. 

“You okay? Did she hurt you?” He asks gently, reaching for her again and she shakes her head, cuddling into herself out of coldness and confusion.

“What was all that about?” she breathes softly, doe eyes staring up at him and he’s suddenly blushing, scratching the back of his neck, which Y/N has learnt to be a nervous habit of his. 

“We… got into an argument. I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again.” He admits and Y/N tries to hide the giddiness she gets from his words. He won’t be seeing her again.

“Oh.” Is all she says, wiggling her toes in her ankle socks and Harry rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

It’s awkward, like she came home at the wrong time and saw something she wasn’t supposed to, and Y/N doesn’t know what to do. So she stands there with pursed lips.

“How was work?” Harry asks, breaking the silence and Y/N nods her head. 

She debates whether or not she should tell him she saw his dad, whether she should mention anything about the whole nickname situation. She doesn’t. Instead, she says, “It was okay,” and leaves it like that.

Harry nods his head and they’re back to that stupid silence again. Neither of them can understand why they’re being so weird about what just happened, it’s not like they kissed… again.

“Anyway, I’m super tired, so… I’m gonna head to bed,” she tells him, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder and Harry’s so fucking thankful she’s ending this weird conversation. 

He nods, bids her goodnight as she slowly creeps up the stairs. He watches her up, offers her a wave when she looks back at him over her shoulder and pinches the bridge of his nose when she’s out of sight.

“Jesus Christ.”

// 

There’s nothing worse than having a perfect dream and being abruptly torn from it. Y/N learns that the hard way when her obnoxious phone blares out her ringtone. She blindly reaches for her nightstand, eyes struggling to adjust to the light that filters through her room and Y/N lets out a loud groan, forgetting the field of daisies and the boy that ran with her.

She grabs her phone, accepts the call without looking at the caller and brings it to her ear. 

“Hello?” She lets out groggily, brows pinched and her head sinks further into her duck feather pillow. A screech is heard from the other line and Y/N pulls her phone away from her ear with a wince.

“Happy twenty-fourth, baby!” 

It’s her Mum, she knows it. Y/N grins sleepily to herself, stretching her tired limbs and she brings the phone back to her ear. 

“Thanks, Mum,” she raps out softly, eyes still struggling to adjust to the morning light and her stomach flips.

“What are you doing today? I’m sorry I can’t be there to celebrate with you, honey,” Jane rambles on. 

Y/N knows she’s probably holding back her tears and beating herself up about it, but she wishes she wouldn’t. Wishes Jane believed her when she says it’s okay.

“It’s alright, Mum. And I don’t know… I’m not sure if Maisee’s got anything planned or not,” Y/N shrugs, but part of her kind of hopes they make a small fuss. She wouldn’t mind pancakes for breakfast and maybe take out in the evening.

“I’m sure she does, you know what Maisee’s like.” Jane laughs, considers her to be a second daughter and Y/N laughs too. 

It’s quiet for a brief moment and they both bask in the comfort of just knowing they’re somewhat together.

“I’m really sorry I can’t make it this weekend,” Cindy continues to apologise. 

Y/N sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head and she just wants her mother to understand that she understands. Y/N knows her mother is a hard worker, knows she’s never had anything just handed to her and Jane has brought Y/N up the same way. 

Y/N grew up watching her mother fight for what they had, work seventeen-hour shifts just to make sure there was enough food on the table and to buy Y/N the books she needed for school.

Y/N watched her mother claw her way up the nursing ladder for years, comforted her on the nights she’d come home in tears after losing a patient, cooking her dinner at three in the morning when she got home from a long shift. Y/N was her mothers’ mother and they were each other’s best friends.

“Mum, stop… I’m coming back to Kingston in a few weeks for spring break anyway, it’s okay, it’s just a birthday,” Y/N shrugs it off and Jane knows her daughter’s being completely honest. They’ve never lied to each other and Y/N wasn’t about to start now.

She hears Jane sigh from the other line and a little smile graces Y/N’s lips. She won. 

“Okay, you win. Your card should come in the mail today and you get your presents when you come home. That okay?” Y/N smiles and sits herself up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and she can only imagine the mess her hair must be.

“That’s perfect, mum,” she sighs out.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. I got my final assessment in an hour and I need to get to work. Have a great birthday, baby. I love you!” Jane sends kisses down the phone.

Y/N laughs. “Bye, mum. Good luck, let me know how it goes. Love you!”

They end the call and Y/N throws her phone to the empty right side of her bed, sinking back into her pillow and she blows a few strands of hair out of her face.

Twenty-four and she doesn’t feel any fucking different.

Her morning routine is the same. Y/N gets out of bed and uses the bathroom, washes her face and brushes her teeth, makes her bed and has a quick shower. She dresses in a flowy, yellow summer dress and slips her feet into her Converse. Y/N lets her natural waves cascade past her shoulders and down her back as she fills in her brows and coats a layer of mascara to her lashes.

She’s bounding down the stairs soon after, tucking hair behind her ear. It’s quiet, only soft mumbles in the kitchen from her housemates. Y/N reaches the bottom of the stairs when she notices the lack of banners and balloons. Part of her is thankful no one has made a big deal out of it, but another part of her feels a little disappointed.

Y/N makes her way through the foyer and into the kitchen with a beaming smile, a little skip in her step but no one acknowledges her presence. There’s no birthday cards or a smiley group of friends. There’s no pancakes.

Y/N purses her lips. “Morning,” she mumbles out, swaying on the balls and heels of her feet and everyone mutters out a ‘hi,’ in the most disinterested way possible. 

Maisee’s got her head in her phone as she picks at her cereal. Dean and Raegen are too busy whispering like children with small smiles on their faces. Mackey and Oliver are half asleep on the counter and Harry’s sitting across from them all, earphones in and his MacBook on his lap.

“You got mail, by the way,” Maisee waves her hand to the front door, not bothering to look up from her phone and a very heavy sinking feeling sits in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. 

They forgot about her birthday. 

Y/N nods and quietly thanks her, feet shuffling back to the front door and she picks up the three letters addressed from her.

She stares at them, knows the cursive writing on the first one is from her grandma and grandpa, the one with the writing that resembles hers is from her mother, and the one with the printed text right off the computer is from her father. She’s shocked he remembered.

Y/N shakes her head and takes a minute to compose herself, throws the cards back onto the little entry table and clears her throat. She shouldn’t be upset that her friends forgot her birthday, she’s never liked a fuss made of her anyway, she shouldn’t be upset.

Y/N tugs her sundress down her hips a little, wiggles her toes and wanders back into the kitchen. No one pays much mind to her, save for Harry, who peers up at her with lidded eyes but she misses the curious squint he offers.

She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and bumps it closed with her hip. 

“What’s everyone doing today?” she asks as she uncaps her water. 

She earns a collection of mumbles that she somewhat translates to 'nothing much,’ and Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip.

Harry watches her, notices the harsh disappointment on her soft features and he’s so confused as to what’s going through her head. He wants to ask her, pull her aside and make sure everything’s okay, but they haven’t spoken in four days, since that whole situation with Corina, and he’s beginning to think he’s done something to upset her.

He hasn’t spoken to Corina, either. Blocked her number and deleted her on any socials he had her on. He took his dad’s advice, started a fresh.

Harry’s been focusing on his school work and writing songs for Professor Lennon the past few days and if he’s being honest, he feels good.

“Okay,” Y/N says to herself, pops her cap back on the water and she purses her lips. “Well, I’m going to work. Guess I’ll just see you all later,” she mumbles, eyes downcast and Harry’s almost fucking certain he sees her bottom lip quiver a little.

//

It’s been a shit day, to say the least. The milkshake machine threw up on Y/N within the first ten minutes of her shift starting, and her stupid boss refused to let her go home to change. She’s been verbally abused by customers all afternoon, a bunch of bikers riding through town and trying to cop a feel while she was waiting on them.

She’s felt icky all day and she just wants to go home, shower, and forget about the complete and utter disaster of her forgotten twenty-fourth birthday. She’s close to tears when she parks outside the house and the Nissan stinks of banana split.

Her grandparents called her on her break, wished her love and happiness, and she’s still to hear from her father, but that much is expected. Y/N’s kicking the rubble beneath her feet when she makes her way up the steps to the porch. 

The lights are off and she supposes everyone’s out. It’s 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, there’s no reason for them to be home, and Y/N’s thankful for the chance to cry in peace.

But when she pushes through the door and flicks the light on, there are bodies jumping out from every hidden corner, balloons on the ceiling and party poppers are going off in her face. 

Y/N lets out a frantic scream, hands covering her face and she can hear music and laughter. She squints her eyes open, heart dropping and stomach swirling. 

“Happy 24th, Y/N!” Maisee screams at the top of her lungs, pretty dress holding her hips and Y/N feels severely underdressed. 

Maisee pulls her into a hug, kisses her forehead and pushes her to greet her guests. Everyone’s there. Her friends from her English study group and other classes, a few of Mackey and Olly’s friends that she’s spent time hanging with. It’s everyone she knows and she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Oh my God,” she breathes out, tears in her eyes and she swears she’s about to burst into tears. 

She’s pulled into hugs from everyone, chatting and drinking and dancing and she feels so fucking good, feels the thing everyone says she would. She feels liberated.

“Let me change, hold on,” she tells Maisee as she tries to drag Y/N out to the backyard. 

Maisee rolls her eyes but lets her, nonetheless. Y/N’s running up the stairs with a grin, untying her apron and shimmying out of her skirt in the process. She’s in only her underwear when she closes the door, making for the closet when she sees something on her nightstand.

A bouquet of trilliums sits on the surface, a tall bag of Horlicks beside it and Y/N frowns as she picks up the folded flower card that leans against her lamp.

Happy Birthday….

Saw the flowers and thought of u.

Oh and I used all ur horlicks so here’s a new bag, you were right, I’m out like a light after LOL.

Love, Harry x

Y/N blushes, heat rising through her body and she can’t help but giggle at her gift, but she’s still thankful, nonetheless. She gently places the card back on her nightstand before rummaging through her closet, opting on a black, floral wrap dress and she’s bouncing back down the stairs.

//

It’s been two hours and Y/N’s feeling brave. She’s drinking a little more than she knows she should (three drinks being the usual limit and she’s now on her fifth), but she’s enjoying herself. She’s wedged on the couch between Maisee and the armrest, her head on her friend’s shoulder and Maisee coos her.

“You’re so great, Mais,” Y/N sighs out, eyes fluttering closed and she’s growing even more appreciatively grateful for the little get together her best friend had assembled. 

“I know, baby,” Maisee tells her, a smirk on her lips and Y/N lets out a snorted giggle.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, save for the music and the laughter of the other partygoers. Y/N takes a moment to sober up a little, to sift through her thoughts and she’s only now realising that she hasn’t seen Harry all night and she remembers the flowers on her nightstand.

“Is Harry here?” she asks quietly. 

Y/N feels dirty, like she shouldn’t be asking such an innocent question, and in her hazy state, Maisee nods through a yawn. 

“Think he’s in the yard,” she tells her and Y/N hums.

She waits on the couch for a few more passing moments and nibbles on her bottom lip. She debates whether she should go through with what she wants to do… whether she actually has the guts to tell him what she needs to. But before Y/N can fully comprehend those thoughts, she’s telling Maisee she needs the bathroom and she’s searching for him.

Y/N weaves through her friends and acquaintances, one goal on her mind and she’s eager to tell him. She prays he feels the same, he must do. She can’t stop thinking about everything Richie told her, about the longing looks, the nicknames. Y/N’s certain there’s something between them, she can feel it in her bones.

She makes her way into the kitchen, trying to suppress her beaming smile and she searches for his fluffy head of curls, knows he hasn’t been slicking them back lately, even if they have been avoiding each other since that night with Corina.

She’s on her tiptoes, surprised by how crowded the kitchen is and when she sees that mop of brown curls, her smile grows to twice its size. She can see the tight pink shirt he’s wearing and the black corduroy pants, and he looks good, so good.

Y/N’s about to move closer when the man in front of her, that was blocking her view, wanders off and she can see his pretty face so clearly. But the smile slips from her face just as quickly as it appeared as Harry dips his head down and envelops another girl’s lips with his.

It’s like she’s drowning. Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach, knees tingling and her throat feels like it’s closing in. Everything around her is black and white, everything but him and her. The air is being sucked out of the room and she feels that familiar feeling of impending doom crashing over her.

You’re so stupid, Y/N. He never liked you!

She’s almost panting for air when she watches Harry pull away, a cocky smirk on his lips and the girl beside him looks fucking gorgeous as she tries to catch her own breath. Y/N knows that kiss, knows the way it makes someone’s knees buckle and head grow cloudy.

Y/N doesn’t feel the tears that begin to pool in her eyes, but she feels all self-confidence quickly evade her nerves and she feels so fucking small. Harry feels eyes on him and he doesn’t expect to see a heartbroken Y/N staring right at him.

He sees the pain in her eyes and the little twitch of her lips as they curve into a frown. Harry lets go of the girl beside him, didn’t have any interest in learning her name at the beginning of the night and he certainly doesn’t have any interest now.

He’s focused on Y/N and the way she tries her hardest to give him an encouraging smile, despite the fact that she’s fucking crumbling within herself. She nods her head and spins on the heels of her feet and Harry doesn’t miss the frown that quickly takes over her fake smile before she’s rushing for the front door.

Harry doesn’t say a word to the girl beside him, just brushes past her and follows Y/N. Harry doesn’t know why he chases after her or feels the need to tell her the kiss meant nothing, but he also doesn’t give himself a chance to think about it. He just needs to get to Y/N.

He thinks he’s lost her when he gets to the lounge, can’t see any sign of her pretty black dress or her full head of hair but then he sees the front door slowly swing closed and he stops it before it locks, rushing outside and closing it behind him.

The air is cold, freezing, actually and he can see her shivering as she sits on the bottom steps of the front porch. Harry purses his lips and slowly eases closer to her, sits beside her and stretches his legs out the best he can. She’s silent beside him, too busy staring at the concrete beneath them.

Y/N takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, she tells herself. Harry’s oblivious beside her. 

“I don’t know when I’m next gonna feel confident enough to do this, and hell, maybe I shouldn’t be doing this at all, but I need to. I need to,” she mutters out, brows knitted like she’s trying to convince herself and Harry can’t help but frown in confusion.

She turns around, eyes watering and he gets a good look at her. She looks distraught, but in the most fucking beautiful way possible. 

“Honey… what’s going on?” Harry whispers, doesn’t miss the way her breathing hitches in her throat and his hands are growing clammy and he’s got that uneasy feeling in his stomach again.

“I like you,” she blurts out, eyes wide and Harry blinks. “Like, I wanna be with you, like you,” she’s whispering as her voice dies out from its confidence to uncertainty. 

She can hear her heart pounding heavily in her ears and Harry clears his throat, feels like it’s about to close in on him.

He can’t believe it, it can’t be true. Harry stares at her for a few moments, tries to find any indication that she’s joking, or if it was a spur of the moment thing, but all he can see are insecurities and pure adoration and she’s swaying just a little.

“Y/N,” he begins, taking her cold, dainty hands in his huge ones and he rubs his thumb against the divots of her knuckles. 

“You’re drunk, petal,” he laughs lightheartedly, like he needs to believe that’s the reason she’s saying this… like he doesn’t deserve for her to mean it.

Y/N shakes her head and pulls her hands out of his grasp, standing to her feet and pacing in a small circle. 

“No… I mean, maybe a little, but I’m still honest,” she reasons and she’s in her head again, drowning in her insecurities like every other night.

“But it’s okay, you don’t have to like me back, it’s nothing new. I don’t expect for someone as incredible as you to even glance at someone like me. It just doesn’t ever happen, I should know that by now,” Y/N rambles to herself, let’s her fears and self-doubt feast on her and Harry grabs her hand and gently tugs so she’s sitting beside him again.

She plops down, pout weighing on her pretty lips and Harry brings her hands to his mouth, peppering kisses to her knuckles. 

“Y/N, you are incredible. Not me. I don’t deserve you,” he tells her breathlessly. 

His heart is aching and he just wants to hold her. It’s an odd emotional reaction for Harry, but he doesn’t question it.

“If I’m so incredible, how come no one wants me?” Y/N sniffles, her nose a little runny and Harry’s lip involuntarily pouts back at her. 

She doesn’t expect the impact of his soft lips on hers, but she doesn’t fight it either.

Harry holds her clammy cheeks in the palms of his hands, suckles softly on her bottom lip and Y/N loses all sense of reality. Her fingers thread through his curls as she tugs at them softly, kisses him back with all of her drunken might and neither of them mind the taste of alcohol on the others tongues.

“I want you,” he whispers against her lips.

//

Feedback is always appreciated!!

But you felt it—Harry's stare as you reviewed key terms and quizzed yourself with your professor's review guide. There wasn't any heat behind the stare, it was more of a soft, warm glow. Affection. Harry stared at you with affection, and you weren't sure how to make the responding butterflies in your stomach stop fluttering so intensely.

"You're being a creep," you finally said, shifting in your spot on the couch as if you could physically shake off the weight of that stare.

Harry's brows raised above his blue light glasses, amused by your assessment. You'd never seen him wear them before, but they framed his stupidly beautiful face perfectly. You thought they softened his appearance, made him look less like the overconfident jock you knew too well.

"You really wanna know?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "I don't think you wanna know."

"I asked, didn't I?"

Harry's grin widened before turning back to his laptop. "I just think you look pretty in my clothes. That's all."

His smirk was self-satisfied as if he knew what your reaction would be, which pissed you off even more. Before you knew it, you took a throw pillow and chucked it at his head.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"I look pretty in your clothes?"

"It's a compliment, princess," Harry said. "You would be the one to get pissy over something like that."

You sniffed. "Sorry I'm not at your feet like one of your adoring fans."

"Hey now, I never said I didn't like it. I like this thing we have going on. The banter. It keeps things interesting."

"Whatever."

"Would you rather I said you looked hot? Sexy?" Harry challenged, though his smirk told you he was playing around, laying a teasing trap to see if you'd take the bait. "Why can't I tell the girl I'm sleeping with she looks beautiful in my clothes? That's like every guy's wet dream."

You frowned and picked at your nails, trying to ignore the effect his words had on you. "You're sounding too romantic. Like you're my boyfriend or something."

Closing his laptop once more, Harry set it on the coffee table in front of him and turned toward you completely. He looked too soft, too cuddly, too kissable in his worn gray sweatshirt, his hair extra curly from the shower you shared together earlier. And when he shuffled across the couch toward you, the smell of his shampoo dizzied you, made it hard for you to focus on his words.

"You say that like it would be a bad thing," he said. His voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of weight to it. This was the conversation you and Harry avoided, danced around, hid from, at every turn. You could see it in his eyes sometimes that he wanted to have it, that he wanted more. But you...you just couldn't.

"We agreed—"

"Yeah, yeah. We agreed. Just sex," Harry grumbled as he pulled off his crew neck. "I can haul you over my knee and spank you all I want but I can't say you can't look cute in my clothes. Pathetic, Y/n, really."

You blushed, playfully swatting his hand away when he tried to push your—his—shirt up. "What are you doing? We already did that!"

"Well not-couples don't sit around studying together, so come on," Harry said, smiling as he play-fought you on the couch.

You giggled your way out of your clothes wrapping your arms and legs around him as he kissed along your jaw. "No, don't do that. This is strictly sex between us. Only girlfriends hold boyfriends like that."

"Don't make fun of me," you said, breathless from laughing.

"I'm not making fun, princess. Promise. We're just two people who love to fuck. And study together and train to—"

You cut Harry off with a kiss, fisting a hand in his hair tight enough to make him hum. The slide of his mouth against yours was familiar, practiced, as dizzying as the first time you kissed him. Since the very beginning, it had been easy with Harry. Too easy, too right. You thought it was just the tension between you and him finally snapping in half, that he'd finally pushed enough of your buttons and you just needed to get him out of your system. And then it happened again, and it felt just as good as the first time. Maybe even better. So it kept happening again. And again. Until you were staying over at his place and he had a drawer at yours and he laughed at your stupid jokes and you knew what he meant when he talked about hockey stats and his favorite place to eat off campus.

And now you were here.

You didn't know where "here" was, though. You knew where Harry thought it was, you knew what he wanted beneath all his teasing and joking. But you didn't know what you wanted. Or you did, and perhaps didn't know how to admit it.

"I should go," you whispered after, even though you knew you didn't have to. Harry's body was warm and sturdy beside yours, the hand drawing circles up and down your back and through your hair pleasant, calming. Your eyes were getting tired, blinking slower and slower as your head laid on his chest.

"Yeah," Harry replied, his chest expanding and falling as he sighed. "But I don't want you to."

You didn't either, though you didn't say it out loud. You just nestled deeper into Harry's chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.

And you stayed.

*.*

Harry woke to the sound of his phone buzzing noisily on by his bed. Too tired to make any sense of who was calling him at such a late hour or why, he didn't even bother sending it to voicemail, merely turning over in his bed and dozing back to sleep once the buzzing stopped.

And then it happened again.

That time, Harry did send the call to voicemail, believing it to be one of Harry's teammates trying to pull some kind of prank. By the third call, he was thoroughly annoyed.

"What?"

"Do you not like me anymore?"

Rubbing his eyes, Harry looked down at his phone, more specifically, the caller ID, for the first time. "Y/n? Is everything okay? Why are you calling so late?"

"It's Friday night why do you—hiccup!—why do you sound like you're asleep?"

"Because I was," Harry said, groaning before sitting up in his bed. Running a hand over his face, he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No! Yes! Maybe a little tipsy. The nice bartender gave me a double shot for my drink," Y/n said, giggling to herself.

*.*

Harry woke up some more at her giggling, already reaching for the pair of jeans he'd ditched by his bed earlier. He'd gotten home after an away game earlier and didn't have it in him to go out, not to mention the pile of homework he left for the last minute. Y/n went out with her friends, insisting that she could go a Friday night without hooking up with him. Harry had laughed at the time, but selfishly wished she was with him now.

"How nice of him," Harry replied, trying not to let the idea of anyone flirting with Y/n bother him too much. "So, you're okay?"

"I—hiccup!—I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, you're the one who called me out of the blue."

"Well, I," Y/n started, her voice drowned out by loud noise of whatever bar or party she was at. Then it all quieted as if she was suddenly alone. "I wasn't going to call you, but then I did."

Harry smirked. "Aw, did you miss me, princess?"

"No!" she snapped, perhaps a little too quickly. "No, but I just—I was ready to leave and no one else was and I know it was stupid of me because you're always tired after away games, but I thought—"

"I'm already on my way," Harry said, sliding off his bed as he picked up his jeans off the floor.

"Really? You don't have to. We're not—I mean you're not—"

"Send me your location, princess. I'll make sure you get home safe."

Y/n was quiet for a moment, presumably sending Harry her location while he shrugged into a t-shirt and grabbed his jacket. And an extra one for her, just in case.

"Maybe...Maybe I can stay at your place tonight?"

Harry's heart leaped in his chest, but he didn't let himself get his hopes up. Y/n was drunk, and he might've just wanted to hear the plea, the affection, in her voice. She didn't like him that way, or didn't want to admit that she did. He just needed to be patient.

"Course, princess," Harry finally said. "Sit tight, okay? I'll be there soon."

Skating always brought you clarity. Going through a familiar routine and landing tricks was what made sense. Moving through the music, letting the music move through you, helped you relax.

But today was different. Today you skated around the rink in circles, no choreography or music flowing through you. You skated in a daze, hoping you could leave your thoughts behind you with another lap, but they were as quick as you were as you glided across the ice.

"Y/n?"

Your most persistent thought of all.

You skated one last loop before coming to a stop at the rinks entrance. Harry stood on the other side, backpack on his shoulders and baseball cap covering most of his curls. It was a vision you were more than familiar with, you even knew the slightly concerned furrow of his brow.

"Everything okay? You weren't at the library."

"I—I just needed to skate," was all you managed to say, your breaths still coming out unevenly.

"Oh. Can I join you?" he asked, already shrugging out of his backpack.

"Just like that?" you asked him, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

"Just like that."

Leaning across the barricade Harry kissed your forehead. There was a small smile on his face as he pulled away and gingerly pushed that same strand of hair away.

Because that was a thing you and Harry did now. You'd finally admitted to yourself what Harry had known all along, so now he was your boyfriend. It had taken a moment to wrap your head around it, though your dynamic with Harry didn't change all that much. Not at first, anyway. Until your first date at a bowling alley, then the second at a sushi place in town, then you began opening up about your home life, your family, sharing things with him that you never had before. Now you got extremely jealous when girls came up to him and tried to flirt, and Harry, who wasn't afraid to admit he'd always been jealous when he saw you flirt with other guys, wasn't afraid to scare those same guys off.

You and Harry were finally dating, and it was...good. more than good. It was—

"It was the date, wasn't it? Was it too much?" he asked later as skated beside you, having finally gotten his skates from his locker. Harry's skates were clunkier than yours, meant for speed and agility so he could race down pucks and out skate his opponents, while yours is slim and geared toward performing tricks. You watched them as they glided across the ice as you figured out what to say.

The date Harry referred to wasn't meant to be anything special, not any more special than the others were. But then Harry did what Harry did best and went above and beyond.

He somehow scored tickets to the ballet and surprised you with them and a candlelit dinner before the performance. It was perfect, all of it incredibly perfect. Harry in his suit and tie, different than his game-day suit, you in the fanciest dress you owned—pale yellow and off-the-shoulder, the bodice shaped like a bow.

It was a night filled with hand holding and kisses to your bare shoulder as you observed the performance. The seats Harry got were far from the stage, but you didn't care. You were enthralled by the dancers and the night your boyfriend planned for you, and Harry was just enthralled by you. You felt his stare all night, the same one he'd had since the first time you met, only now you knew what it meant.

Then at the end of the night, he walked you to your door, kissed you, and let you go inside. When you asked why he wasn't following, all he said was, "You have a competition tomorrow. I know you like to be alone so you can mentally prepare."

And that was that. He left, and you went inside and replayed the night in your head over and over and over again. You saw him the next morning at your competition, but you were too focused, all your feelings carefully compartmentalized so you could perform your absolute best. But the second you got off the ice, you thought of him, and only him, and all the ways he made you feel entirely too much and how you couldn't see yourself with anyone else.

It was too much, too many giant feelings to make sense of all at once. So you took some time to yourself the next couple days, and instead of meeting Harry at the library to study like you'd planned a week ago and headed for the skating rink instead.

"The date was perfect," you said now, your eyes trained on the ice beneath your skates. "It wasn't—It wasn't the date."

"So...you blew off studying with me because you...what? You just felt like it?" Harry asked, his voice carrying the slightest edge to it. Your boyfriend was incredibly patient despite your apparent aversion to dealing with your growing emotions. But he was still human, and honestly, you were a little annoyed with yourself too.

"No, I—"

"Then what's going on, Y/n? I know things haven't been easy, but if I'm coming on too strong and we need to slow down, then—"

"I don't want to slow down."

"Okay, then what—"

"I love you!" you said, coming to a stop in front of him. The words just tumbled out of your mouth, and now they wouldn't stop, like a dam had broken inside you. "I've come to the realization that I'm in love with you. A lot, and—and I'm overwhelmed by it and a little annoyed that you've managed to make me feel so much more than I ever planned to, so... that's why I didn't show up. I'm sorry, I just—I love you, I guess, and I didn't know how to tell you. But I also couldn't sit next to you and not say it either."

Harry said nothing for a couple seconds, looking down at his skates, then you, then back down again. Then he began to laugh.

You gaped at him. "Hey—You're laughing at me? I know it wasn't as romantic as you would've made it but, but I love you, you stupid fucking jerk!"

That only made him laugh more, which made you spin on your skates and glide away from him. He called after you, but you kept going, except he was a faster skater than you were and caught up to you before you wanted him to. Harry grabbed you by the waist and spun you around so faced him. He was smiling wide, his nose bright red from the chill of the rink.

"I'm laughing because you got to say it first," he said. "I'm laughing because I have been waiting for the right time to tell you, walking on eggshells for almost two years now, and you just—you beat me to it. That's all."

You blinked. Then laughed a little yourself. "So it was a competition? I won?"

"Yeah," Harry scoffed. "You won. Now stop stress skating and come with me to the library, you neurotic freak."

"Competitive ass."

"I love you," Harry said, using the smile he usually reserved for getting out of trouble or getting what he wanted. It was a smile you pretended you could resist, perhaps more for your sake than his, but now you didn't even try.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not drinking tonight?” Seth commented.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About 5 months.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, “Okay. Thank you, Harry.”

. . .

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. That Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You narrowed your gaze at Erin in warning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I feel so special.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You scrunched your face in confusion.

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

“Why would he be upset?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, “Thank you.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed and buried your face into his clavicle.

“Can I tell you something, Y/n?”

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

“Can you look at me first?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Like I’m in love with you.”

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

“Wha– you… I’m surprised. I… love?”

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

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

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

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

“Well, what do you think?”

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

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

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

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

You nodded and smiled, “Yeah. I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head, “No one else.”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck… yes I do…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Harry.” You whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t you stay the night?”

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

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

He couldn’t have agreed more.

. . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, Mom. You’re the boss.”

You took his hand, “Hurry back, Dad.”

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Because around the time he realizes just what it is that you’ve snuck into his jacket, he’ll also realize that it means you are somewhere across town not wearing any underwear at all.

And he’ll be fucking furious.

But that’s why you did it. It’s what he deserved. After spending all evening torturing you, teasing you, edging you, and taunting you…he left you. Gave you exactly 0 orgasms by the time you went to bed, claiming you didn’t deserve any after being such a brat all day.

In your defense, you weren’t a brat. No, you didn’t exactly do the few things he’d asked of you. And no, you didn’t communicate with him that you were struggling with your essay and feeling stressed and overwhelmed. But you figured an orgasm would help fix a lot of that. Instead, he left you with none.

You felt rather proud of yourself as you subtly and effortlessly dropped your panties into the pocket while you kissed him goodbye. Knowing he’d be pissed and that he’d punish you for it. You secretly hoped he’d pull them out in front of the whole class. Or in front of the other faculty.

Either way, you knew the text was coming. And when your phone pings as you’re leaving your own class, you can’t help but smile. 

You’re in big fucking trouble, little one.

You bite your lip with glee as you head across campus. You don’t answer his message and you certainly don’t apologize. After all, the day is far from through. 

Around four, you return to his apartment. His office hours aren’t over until five and then he has a faculty meeting which will keep him out until seven. It’s hard some days to be away from him for so long. You miss him. It’s even worse that he doesn’t work at the same university you attend, so there’s not even the slightest chance that you’ll catch a glimpse of him during the day. 

It bothers you more than you’d like to admit. And maybe that’s why you like to challenge him. Because at least if he’s upset and punishing you, he’s paying attention. You don’t want to settle into a routine where he comes home, gives you a quick fuck and a kiss, and falls asleep. 

Or even worse…ends the agreement altogether.

You want to know you’re interesting enough to keep around. That you make this relationship worth it for him. He wants to be dominant. And you want to be his submissive. And even if that means getting spanked and edged from time to time…that’s okay.

So, once you get back to his place, you make a plan. He isn’t too upset yet. He needs a push. A gentle nudge.

And you know exactly how to nudge him.

You find his portable security camera, the one he only sets up when he’s out of town and away from the apartment. You bring it into the bedroom and then you turn it on. You know it’ll send him a notification that it’s active and that it’s sensed movement. From there, he’ll be able to open the app on his phone and see everything the camera does.

Which will be you.

On the bed.

Naked.

And touching yourself.

Breaking his favorite rule.

He won’t be able to do anything about it, either. Between office hours and faculty meetings, he won’t have time to send you a chastising text. He won’t have time to warn you or threaten you. 

But he will be able to watch. You know he will. Even if he has to pull it up behind a notebook, his eyes will be glued to the screen and the thought alone makes you giddy.

You set the camera on the dresser, giving him the perfect view of where you plan to sit against the headboard. You strip off your shirt and skirt, but there’s no need to discard of your underwear—he already knows where it is. 

You crawl onto the mattress, and you settle yourself into the collection of pillows. You find your favorite dildo and you spread your legs and you look directly into the lens. 

Then, you smile.

You start slow, first by rubbing your clit, and settling into the sensation. Praying that Harry is somewhere watching right now. Then you start to tease yourself. One finger…then two. Slowly thrusting them into your cunt until you can add a third. The sounds are wet and delicious, and you moan his name even though he can’t hear you.

When you finally work yourself up to the dildo, you’re shaking. It doesn’t take long for you to cum—twice. Making a mess on his bed and on your thighs that you don’t exactly plan to clean up just yet. And after a quick break…you go back for round three before finally tapping out.

And once you’re through and feeling rather victorious, you wait.

However, waiting proves rather difficult once eight o’clock hits and he’s still not home. Then eight becomes nine and you don’t even have so much as a text. 

And you realize not much later that he’s turned the tables.

Not only does he have the upper hand, but he’s using that hand to squeeze you out. To make you sit and sweat and bite the ends of your fingernails. He wants you to realize that he’s won. Even after everything you did today, he’s still won and he’s going to continue winning and you are undoubtedly fucked.

So, when the door finally opens about fifteen minutes later, your heart drops to your ass.

He strides in rather calmly. He tosses his keys into the bowl by the hallway. He slips off his large coat. He loosens his tie. And then he heads to the bar for a bottle of scotch.

He pours himself a drink and he doesn’t look at you as you sit on the sofa and wait anxiously for his reaction. He doesn’t offer you a hello. He doesn’t glare or even smirk. He keeps his back to you, and he takes two very deliberate sips.

Finally…he turns around.

He leans against the counter and begins to roll his sleeves up to his arms. Then, he crosses them over his chest, and in a gentle murmur says, “Hi.”

Desperate to please and to move the scene along, you scoot to the edge of the couch and place your hands in your lap. “Hi, Sir.”

He hums. Soft. Amused. “Sir, hm?”

You nod. “Yes. You are Sir, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he echoes. “But you certainly didn’t treat me like one today, did you?”

You resist the urge to smile. “What do you mean, Sir?”

He pushes off the bar and takes one step closer. Then, he reaches into his pocket and pulls your panties free, dangling them from his finger. “Why were these left in my coat today, little one?”

“Oh…were they?” You bat your lashes. “Oops. I guess I forgot where I put them.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He takes another step. “And does that mean you were in class all day without any?”

You shyly glance toward your lap. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“…yes, Sir.”

“I see.” He puts them back in his pocket. “So, like a little fucking whore, you paraded around campus in nothing but a short skirt with no goddamn panties just to piss me off?"

"...yes, Sir."

"Did you touch yourself during class?"

You blink up at him. "I thought about it. But I waited until I was in my car during lunch."

His expression grows harder. "So you touched yourself twice today. Without asking my permission for either one."

"That's right, Sir."

"And you wanted me to find your panties while I was teaching, then, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“To mock me.”

“No, Sir.”

“No?”

You shift and offer him your best pout. “I only wanted your attention, Daddy.”

“You have it.” He nods his chin at you. “But that’s not all you wanted, is it?”

You clear your throat. “What do you mean, Professor?”

He reaches now into his other pocket, pulling out his phone and hitting a few buttons before flipping the screen toward you.

And there you are. On the bed. Writhing, moaning. Coming.

Harry looks at you. “You went through quite a bit of trouble to make sure I’d see this, didn’t you?”

You bite your lip.

“In fact, not only did you want me to see you disobeying my rule, you wanted to rub it in my face. Wanted me to get caught watching you in front of all my colleagues and students.” He clicks the phone off. “Isn’t that right?”

He wants your honesty and even though you’re tempted not to give it to him…you need to see him upset.

You straighten up and look him dead in the eye. “That’s right, Sir.”

He leans back and studies you. He’s fighting a smirk now, but that mischievous green gives everything away. “Because you wanted my attention.”

“Yes.”

“And this is how you thought you’d get it.”

“Yes.”

“And how is that working for you so far, little one?”

“Pretty well, actually. You’re here, and you’re pissed, so…”

He leans closer. So suddenly, in fact, that it makes a breath catch in your throat and your eyes pop open.

He rests his hands on his knees and stares right through you. “Fine,” he agrees in an almost devious purr. “If you want me to punish you, darling, I will. In fact, I’d like nothing more than to bend you over my knee right now and feel your skin grow hot from my hand.”

You swallow.

“And then, once you’re fucking soaking my trousers, I’ll sit you down and return your generous favor.” He smiles. “And you…will thank me for every single spank and every single orgasm. The only words I will hear out of this mouth are, ‘Yes, Sir,’ ‘No, Sir,’ and ‘Thank you, Sir.’ Is that understood?”

You nod sheepishly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He straightens up. “You know what to say if you want to stop, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me.”

“Yellow or red.”

“Good. And what’s our safe word if you’d like to pause the dominant, submissive relationship and just be us?”

“Sunflower.”

“Good girl.” He reaches for your chin, pinching your cheeks tight between his fingers before forcing your head up. “What’s your color right now?”

“Green, Sir.”

“And you understand that my punishment is not a reward for this behavior?” He grips you a touch harder. “Just because I’m giving you what you want doesn’t mean I approve of the means in which you got it?”

Your lashes flutter as you nod in his hold. “I understand…Sir.”

“But you’re not the least bit sorry…are you?”

Slowly, you shake your head.

He smiles to himself before dipping down once again until his lips are only inches from yours. “I plan to change that.”

Your stomach flips.

With that, he releases you, and nods toward the bedroom. “Go. Wait on the bed. I’ll be in when I feel like it.”

You don’t waste another second. You run toward the bed and you sit on the edge and you wait like a good girl. You obey him because you know how badly you want what comes next.

He takes his time. He has another drink. Slips off his shoes. Maybe even answers a few texts. Then, after he’s finished teasing you, he strolls into the bedroom.

He says nothing as he takes a seat beside you on the mattress. He hardly even looks at you. His expression is stoic—unrelenting. The way it always is when he’s slipping further into the punishing dominant role. 

“Come,” he says, and pats his thigh. 

You do. You crawl over his lap and lay your stomach over his knees, bare ass eager and waiting. 

He squeezes your hip. “Are you ready, little one?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He smooths his palm over the curve of your left cheek before there’s a sharp smack to the right. 

You jolt, sucking in a quiet gasp. “Thank you, Sir.”

You hear him hum appreciatively. He does it again to the other side this time. Hard. Firm. 

“Thank you, Sir.”

Again and again. Sometimes on the same side, sometimes in a specific pattern. He goes until you’re nearly numb and tears are pooling in your eyes. The same way arousal is pooling between your legs. Exactly the way he wanted.

Because it’s not the pain that does it for you. It’s his pain. It’s the knowledge that he trusts you enough to do this. And you trust him enough to let him.

He wants to take the time to punish you and make you a better submissive. And even though you annoy him and challenge him, he wants to keep you around. He isn’t going to lose interest.

But most importantly, he enjoys it just as much as you do.

By the fifteenth spank—with a few moments of rest in-between—you’re raw and undoubtedly very warm. Despite his slight anger, he makes sure to caress your skin and show it a bit of care along with the abuse. He listens closely for your safe word, and he only continues once you’ve thanked him. A sign that you’re coherent and still present in the scene.

After a couple more, he stops. “Tell me again why I’m doing this. Let me know that you understand.”

Through a few sniffles, you manage to answer, “Because…I disobeyed your rule.”

“And?”

“…and I disobeyed you.”

“And?”

“I went to class without any panties.”

“Mm.” He seems to huff to himself. “What else?”

“I could have embarrassed you in front of your students and colleagues.”

“And?”

“…and I’m not sorry about any of it.” You glance over your shoulder. “I’m a bad submissive.”

“You are,” he agrees. “Quite possibly the worst. My sweet angel became my little devil overnight all because she’s an attention whore who needs Daddy to constantly put her in her place.”

He reaches for your jaw again and forces your attention on him.

“Is that what you are, darling? A greedy little slut who throws a tantrum anytime her dominant stays out late? You have to disrupt my life, my work, and my students because you’re so cock-dumb and desperate?”

Your heart is racing. The degrading comments make your insides wrench in the best way as you squeeze your thighs together. “…yes, Sir.”

“I provide for you,” he continues, pinching your cheeks with a rather unrelenting grip. “I care for you. I work hard to make money just so I can spend it on you. And what do I get in return? A disobedient little fuck-toy that can’t follow a single goddamn rule. All because she couldn’t tell me she missed me.”

He pulls you up until you’re sitting and your ass begins to throb in pain as you’re forced over the rough fabric of his trousers.

“Tell me you missed me,” he demands sharply. “Be a good girl for once and tell me what you really need.”

“You,” you breathe. “I need you, Professor. I missed you. I wanted you around.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner, huh?” He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck. “Why did you play games with me?”

You pout. “Because I like playing with you.”

He scoffs. “You’re a brat. You’re a fucking brat and you need to be broken.”

With that, you’re nearly shoved off his lap as he moves to one of the dressers to search for something.

Handcuffs.

You already know what comes next and even though you know you won’t like it…you can’t help but feel just a little excited.

“Move to the headboard,” he says. “Hands on the bars.”

You scoot into position, wrists firm against the poles as he tightens the cuffs and makes sure they’re nice and snug. 

In this position, he can do anything he wants. He can fuck you, he can taste you, he can have both holes at once. And you can’t do anything but let him. 

Once you’re where he wants you, he gets off of the bed, and begins to unbutton his fancy shirt.

You enjoy the show. In fact, you practically drool as you watch those long, nimble fingers pop each button on the way down. The way the fabric slides against his tan, tattooed skin before dropping down his arms and onto the floor. The way he tugs on his belt before undoing his pants and letting those go as well.

And there he is. Clad in nothing more than his briefs, that beautiful, gorgeous body on display. He puts in quite a bit of time to keep up his appearance and stamina. If he’s not teaching and he’s not with you, he’s at the gym. He runs, he does yoga, he plays basketball. He’s a very fit man and you honestly can’t believe how lucky you are to reap the rewards of his hard work.

Your lips part, ready to call for him. Your eyes feel heavy with lust and your legs are practically trembling. You part them in anticipation as he drops his briefs and puts a firm hand around his cock.

He strokes himself a few times before he grabs his phone. You stare like you’re in heat and maybe you are because fuck, the way his tip is so red and swollen and absolutely delicious. And his hand, his glorious hand. Nothing has ever looked so good. The way he squeezes and pumps. The way his thighs flex as he walks back toward the lounge chair in the corner of the room to sit. The way the tattoos move with every thrust.

You blink. “Wait…what are you doing?”

His eyes snap to yours. “Did I say you could speak?”

“…no, but—”

“Excuse me?”

You exhale sharply. “No, Sir.”

“No.” He leans back, one hand still around his cock while the other rotates his phone until he can watch the screen clearly. “What I am doing is returning your favor.”

Your brows furrow.

“See…you wanted to touch yourself. Without me,” he explains almost smugly. “You wanted to torture me. When I couldn’t do anything about it. When I couldn’t touch you or feel you or taste you. So, I’m following your lead. I’m letting you watch. I’m letting you see everything that you’re missing.”

And you realize then. You understand. You understand and you fucking hate it because this is so much worse than what you were imagining.

“Harry…Harry, wait—”

He clicks his tongue and shoots you a startling look of waning. “What did I say?”

You whimper. “Sir, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I made a mistake. I was just…I missed you and I—”

“I don’t care,” he says before he hits a button on his phone and the speakers come alive with the sound of your voice. “You get to watch me while I get to watch you. And it’s a shame. Because now I have to waste it on myself instead of filling that sweet pussy the way you love.”

You whine again but it’s lost beneath the sounds of your pants coming from his phone. He doesn’t look at the real you. He looks at the disobedient version on the screen. The one with spread legs and a rather pornographic moan that almost embarrasses you.

He fists himself in the kind of way that makes every glorious muscle in his arm flex and tighten. It’s cruel how he makes you wait here, calling his name. Unable to do for him what he’s doing for himself.

“Look at you,” he exhales, lashes fluttering as he stares at your performance. “Stretching your little cunt with your fingers. Bet it felt good, didn’t it?”

“Yes…yes, Sir—”

“Did you think of me, little devil? Did you think of my fingers when you were fucking your little pussy. Did you pretend they were mine?”

You nod so fast, your head aches. “Yes, Sir.”

“I bet.” He squeezes the tip and hisses before moving back down. His chest is heaving, skin practically glowing beneath the lamp beside him. He’s beautiful like this. Jaw clenched and thighs spread. “I imagined your voice when I was in my meeting, watching. Didn’t have the sound on…but I knew. I know your sounds. Play them in my head on a loop.”

You yank on the cuffs and you don’t care that they’re cutting into your wrists. What he’s doing hurts so much more.

“And that fucking dildo,” he continues. He groans softly and his hips lift. “Yet another toy you aren’t meant to use without me. But there you are. Taking it so well. All the way, hm? Like it’s nothing.”

You need him to look at you. He’s so close and you just…you need him to put his eyes on your body and see the way you’re dying without him. It’s warm in his light and you think you might disappear if he doesn’t look at you just once before he finishes. 

“It’s such a shame,” he murmurs. “Such a shame that you’d rather have silicone than my cock.”

You sniffle. “Daddy, no—”

“And if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. For the next week, if I decide you get to cum, I’ll use the toy. And then I’ll let you watch as I finish myself off alone.” Finally, he looks up, and you want to wilt. “Or maybe I’ll use a toy, too. Maybe the fleshlight we got.”

Tears dance down your cheeks. You wish he was inside of you right now. Fucking you, stretching you. Pressing down on the bulge in your belly so you can really feel him. His hand is nothing compared to your pussy and you both know it.

“Professor, please—”

“Uh-uh,” he tuts. “No. You don’t get to cry. You don’t get to beg or feel sorry. You asked for this. You wanted to hurt me. To be punished and be noticed. So, I’m noticing you, darling. And what I’ve noticed is that I’ve been far too lenient with you.”

You squeeze your thighs in an attempt for relief, but it does nothing and he knows it.

“See, I thought you were good.” He rests his head back against the chair, overcome with pleasure, and you know he’s trying hard to hold out. “I thought…that when I asked you to do something, you did it. That if you needed me…if you needed to cum…you talked to me. You followed our rule and you obeyed. But clearly I don’t punish you enough if you think slipping your panties into my coat is a fun little game.”

“Sir…Sir, I don’t, I’m—”

“Or maybe they’re just the wrong sort of punishments,” he barrels on. “What you really wanted was to be spanked and tied up. Maybe even wanted me to use my belt, hm? Be rough with you? Make you cry? And I gave it to you. Because I’m a good dominant. But I need to be a better one. And a better dominant makes sure his submissive learns her lessons.”

You try to sit up. Catch his eye again. Plead with him. Because you don’t like where this is going.

“Starting now, your punishment will hurt. It will teach. If you so much as roll your eyes when I speak to you, I’ll have you sleeping in the guest room until you can fix your attitude.” He glances over his phone screen and hums when he sees you finish. “And if you try to pull another stunt like you did today, you won’t get to cum at all, and I might even send you back to your apartment.”

The tears feel hot as they drip down your chin. “Daddy…”

“Tell me you understand,” he demands of you now. “Tell me that you hear my rules. That you plan to obey them and respect them the way you need to obey and respect me.”

You’re tempted to throw a tantrum. To thrash and cry and beg, but you know it’ll only make things worse. So, you make a quick motion with your head, and whimper, “Yes, Sir.”

And your submissive reply is what tips him over the edge. He cums—hard—and with a rather lewd moan before spilling all over his hand, stomach, and thighs. 

You hate it. He was right, it is wasted. Staining his skin instead of yours. To be washed off and disposed of instead of slipping down your throat or filling your cunt. A cruel, sadistic punishment that he seems to enjoy.

And he still doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t acknowledge your pain. Pretends you’re not even in the room. Instead, he grabs a washcloth from one of the drawers and cleans himself up before coming over to you. So there’s no chance you’ll get even a single drop.

He sits on the bed beside you and looks down. He pinches your chin—softer this time—and makes your tear-filled eyes look at him.

“I expect you to follow these rules, little one,” he repeats gently. “And I expect you to understand why you’re being punished. I don’t do it to hurt you. In fact, it hurts me more than it hurts you. Having to send you away or use a toy instead of giving you my cock? That’s not what I want. But it’s what you deserve. And I have to be a good dominant and make sure you learn your lesson.”

You try to nuzzle yourself closer to his hand and he smiles. “I do understand, Daddy, and I’m sorry. Just…just missed you.”

His expression softens now and he seems gutted. “So you said. And I’d like to know what I’ve been doing to make you feel so neglected so that it doesn’t happen again.”

You shake your head quickly. “Nothing, Sir. Just…your hours have been later. And sometimes I have a lot to study. And by the time we’re both finally home, we have to sleep. And then I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

He coos and reaches down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Oh, darling. I know life is a bit hectic right now. And I haven’t called to check-in as much as I should, have I?”

You sniffle. “You have. But a check-in doesn’t replace the real thing.”

“I know.” He leaves a kiss to your cheek now. “I’m so sorry, my love. With the end of the semester, I’ve got so much grading to do, and so many final projects to oversee. There’s a lot of discussion happening in our department, and I’ve been pulled in a lot of different directions. I’ve been absent and neglecting one of my favorite priorities. And for that, I’m so sorry. And I will try to do better. Can you forgive me?”

You smile and nod as quickly as you can. “Always, Daddy.”

He chuckles. “My good girl. But you know that just because I haven’t been as present doesn’t give you a right to act out, yes?”

“…yes, Sir.”

“And I expect you to talk to me in the future if you’re feeling like this?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Do you have any questions for me?”

You nod again. “Can you please hold me?”

His smile feels like a breath of spring. “Of course.”

He undoes the cuffs and takes careful hold of your wrists. He grabs some calming salve from the nightstand beside him and applies it to the slight marks on your skin, just to make sure you’ll be all right and won’t feel any more pain. And once it’s on, he pulls the covers back, and tucks you both in.

You feel good in his arms, your cheek against his heart. There’s still a very prominent ache between your thighs but you know better than to ask him to relieve it. This is part of your lesson. He’ll make it up to you later—even if he only uses a toy to do so. But it won’t even matter because it’s him. And you’ll take anything he gives you.

The slight scruff on his face scratches your forehead as he rubs it against you to make you squeal. And you feel so happy now that he’s your Harry again. The man you feel safest with. 

“Harry?” you whisper after the room has gone quiet.

“Hm?”

“I really am sorry about the panties. I didn’t want you to get caught.”

He laughs softly and kisses your temple. “I think if anything, it would have given me points.”

You grin. “The girls would have been so jealous.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“I do. You’re hot, Professor. I don’t have to be your student to know all of your students want to fuck you.”

He glances down with a smirk. “All of them, hm?”

“Every single one. Have you seen yourself? Have you seen what you wear? And your hair and that beard and those eyes—”

“Okay,” he murmurs, and cups your cheek. “You’re very sweet, darling. And maybe you should give me your panties more often so I can remind everyone who I belong to.”

Your heart skips. The word belong means something more to the two of you than it might to anyone else. As his submissive, you do belong to him.

But he belongs to you, too. You belong to each other. This is a partnership—a relationship, no matter the dynamic. And the idea of him flaunting your claim on him makes you giddy.

“Daddy?” you whimper.

“Yes, little one?”

 “Can we please change the subject before this gets any worse for me?”

His brows furrow. “Worse?”

You shift your legs between his and his eyes widen when he feels the smearing of arousal against his thigh. 

“Ah,” he breathes before smiling. “M’sorry, honey. Know it must really ache, hm?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And after all this edging, it’d probably feel so good to cum, wouldn’t it?”

Another nod. “Yes, Professor.”

“Mmm.” He kisses you. “Too bad. Maybe next time, yeah?”

You groan but you do kiss him back. Because you know that next time…

He’ll make it worth it.

Hehe this was fun and I am so down to explore them more later if we ever want!!! THANK YOU FOR READING 😭💞

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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Harry blinks. 

It’s very on brand, despite the way she’s sure one of the baristas has definitely twisted around from the dishpit, side eye discreet …but there. And in the barista’s defense, she couldn’t even blame her for eavesdropping on the sordid contents of their public discourse. Y/N isn’t going to turn around and look. 

In Harry’s, he didn’t exactly shout. 

The man across from her takes a slow sip from his latte. Good latte, very good latte. 

She can’t help but admire his varying assortment of rings as he cradles the cup, irises winding from the blocky, golden S to its chunky counterpart, the H. So many times she’d admired those hands, those ring-clad fingers traipsing over bare skin, just the tips meddling over abdomens and winding circles around navels. Those digits sunk into the hair of his partner, tangled into the roots as he manually bobs her head over his cock. Those fingers twisting over the pink tip of his shaft, lining it up before his hips pump. Those long fingers splaying over cunts, swiping a thumb to ogle in front of the camera. 

There've been so many instances where Y/N had wondered the significance of that H and that S. And it’s been really quite simple all along.

Should I call you Tiger in person, then? she’d tapped out over the LED keyboard, days prior when they’d only been discussing the prospect of a meet up. Days prior, before she’d flown out for an on-camera collaboration, to bask in the sunlight of California, to enjoy overpriced dirty chai lattes and oddly promiscuous dialogue in the corner of a cafe. 

I think I’ll just take Harry when the cameras aren’t rolling x, RideTheTiger had messaged back. 

Anyways, it’d probably be a sleazy, poorly-executed one liner (and consequently, a horrifically red flag) in possibly every other circumstance, but this isn’t a first date and RideTheTiger has, thus far, been the furthest thing from sleazy. Even paid for her dirty chai latte, practically shouldering her out of the slot at the register. Pulled her chair out for her, asked about her traveling fares prior to delving into said anal topic. It’s all been fairly gentlemanly. Very business-partner-coffee-meeting. 

“No condom,” Harry tacks on, like it’s clarification for the raw segment of raw anal, as if it actually needed some sort of clarification. 

Y/N takes another sip. Damn good latte. 

“I like it,” the young woman tells him, clearing her throat on this edge that implies she’s mindful of her volume. Somehow, even as a freelance pornstar, she still hasn’t quite managed to get over the awkward degree of shame that a public setting incites. “I like the...” 

That barista is definitely fucking peering over.

“…The mess,” she settles on, because anal creampie doesn’t feel like a term to be said with her whole chest over a guava pastelito. 

For a short moment, Harry just watches her, jade roaming and the corners of his mouth slowing seeping into a simper, like he knows brazenly discussing anal creampies in the middle of a cafe — not quite packed, but still a cafe — has her kind of squirming in her seat. He takes another drink. 

“She’s got airpods in,” the man tells her eventually, forest-y irises jolting to something behind her head — the barista that’s clattering about behind the counter. And if she’s listening in, she’s probably going to go home and find one of them online, or ultimately both, and probably subscribe. 

The tension in her shoulders melts away the longer he grins at her over the lip of his lid, dimples indented in the flesh beside the upturned edges of his mouth. It’s just what they do for a living. It’s just sex. It’s just talking about the sex they’re going to have on camera. 

There’s bells and whistles to it, too, but it beats sitting at home and answering phone calls where angry customers screech all tinny through the headset and don’t comprehend the words, “Sir, if you can’t use your inside voice and talk to me like a civilized human being, I’m not going to be able to resolve your issue.” For Y/N it is. At least she gets a couple of orgasms out of this. 

“Sorry,” she tells him, shoulders slumping, “I think I’m still not— I get …weird talking about it in public settings.”

Tiger gives her this careful look over, eyes amused. 

“S’okay, I understand. If you’d rather get into the details back at mine, I’m okay with that.” 

“No, no,” Y/N protests, motioning out with her free hand, almost like her frigidly humiliated disposition will turn him off from collaboration, “No. It’s just, like. Sex work— it’s— it’s 2024. Nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Harry blinks. He gives her another one of those slow, knowing grins with his strawberry mouth. 

“No, seriously. We can get into the …rough drafting in a more private setting.” And then he takes another casual, horribly nonchalant sip, “I get it.” 

The man splays back against the chair, the hand not clutching at his beverage laid against smooth bamboo varnish, the nails there neatly manicured and painted with a soft shade of green lacquer. Y/N wonders what that particular color would look like with a glimmering top coat after he’s sunk the digits in between her thighs. She casts her gaze back up to his face. 

“I just figured I’d ask because we exchanged tests last week.” 

Clean as a whistle, RideTheTiger, (appropriately renamed in her contacts as Harry Tiger OF collab), had messaged on a Tuesday afternoon. That text was tailed with an HDR attachment of paperwork detailing his clean-as-a-whistle results, for proof. And the polish on his nails, fingertips gripped over the edge of the sheet, had been a pretty sky blue in the picture. 

She’d wondered the same thing, then; what OPI’s Rich Girls & Po-boys would look like glazed with a sheen of her slick arousal. 

He’s just a fuckable man, Y/N thinks, sat back in his chair like discussing sex work scene scripting is a normal mid-day affair, soft dusting of stubble coating his jaw, curls swept up off his forehead. His white tee shrouds the swallows and the inky butterfly she’s seen flexing over his tummy, the laurels that seep into the deep cut of his v-line, but it does very, very little to hide the artistry that litters his arm. 

That same arm she’d seen in videos, wrapped in pumped muscle as his fingers had worked his partner to the brink of bliss at a merciless pace, plush mouth shaping over some sort of filthy croon, dimples indented. Those same hands cradling over his counterpart’s throat with a gentle squeeze, that same thumb swiping messily over his partner’s bottom lip. Those same eyebrows with a crease carved between their furrow, those same curls in sweaty, disheveled disarray from the incessant rake through of his hands as his cock got swallowed up by a pretty, swarthy-skinned brunette, or maybe a blonde. A curl that’d flopped over his forehead in those videos, hardly hiding a rivulet of sweat that’d dripped from his hairline, is neatly tucked back under designer shades, now. 

Designer shades he’s bought with his dirty porn money, because despite his spiffy, clean boy, seemingly innocuous demeanor, RideTheTiger is dirty, dirty, dirty. 

Because under his warm smiles and his twinkling jade, there’s an alter ego that lives on the internet. One she’s all too familiar with. 

It makes her chest sort of flush under her sweater. This is happening. This is going to happen. 

The chair creaks a little when he sits up, clearing his throat, “I didn’t want to assume, but. I mean— I’m sure you’ve seen, like, my tips. Is it …odd to say I’m a fan of your content?” his gaze slowly settles from his drink to her face, smooth baritone almost …bashful as plush pink splits into a beam and his words catch on a laugh, “Is that …weird?”

Y/N knows exactly what he’s referring to. They’d been two mutuals subscribed to one another, chunks of profit migrating from inbox to inbox. It’d been like a volley, electric currency bouncing through the expanse of the internet, racket to racket, account back to account, pinging notifications striking on uploads behind paywalls. Only then, Tiger was just a man behind a screen. Tiger wasn’t sitting at a table in front of her, and they weren’t discussing the crude elements of the video they were going to shoot together. 

“Not at all,” Y/N clears her throat and pairs it with a side-to-side shake of her head. 

She’ll never admit that she’d touched herself to the solo session that’d popped up in her DM’s behind a paywall only last week, an automated promotion sent out to all subscribers. The one where he’d been sat in one of those lush, swivel-y chairs in front of his computer, firm thighs splayed and ringed hand tugging over his leaky cock. The camera angle was broad enough to capture his eye contact with the lens, the way his front teeth would nip at his bottom lip, the way the column of his straining throat would go on show as he’d tipped his head back with a groan. 

She blinks, staring ahead as she remembers the way cum had painted all the way up over the panting butterfly. Harry grins from across the table. She half-expects him to brazenly admit he’s done the same to her content. So far, she’s concluded that he’s quite unashamed. 

“Makes it easier to fuck, right?” Y/N says, beating him to the punchline. 

He makes this face then, tipping his head, eyes widening and blinking playfully, mouth curling like he’s appalled by her brazen admission in said public setting. Before the young woman can get flustered by his teasing, he sits back and lets his features relax into something soft.

“Yeah. It does.” 

Harry doesn’t tell Y/N she should wear a plug on the day that they calendar in for shooting. Not while they’re in the cafe. In fact, he waits three whole hours until the very precise moment where she’s using her apple pay at a drive through for the notification banner to swipe down. 

When Y/N steps into his entryway, there’s a wilting cactus stemming from a ceramic basin next to a bowl of keys and varying knick knacks. There’s a pair of dice in there, too. 

“This is Tim,” Harry introduces, unprompted, motioning to the withering plant in passing. 

Y/N nudges with her chin like a sort of acknowledgement, tailing him through the hallway, where a neat array of three framed, abstractly artistic renditions of Kama Sutra positions line the segue. She’s half convinced that the doggy one follows her movement like one of those oddly unsettling renaissance portraits. 

“Very nice.”

It’s a Thursday, and they’ve determined today to be the day that they collaborate. She’s wearing the plug, and she tries to ignore the anticipation curdling in the pits of her tummy as she tails him to the lounge. 

“I think I overwatered him, honestly,” Harry tells her, aimed over his shoulder, “but I can’t bear to part with him.” 

He’s wearing gray sweats, and he’s definitely opted to go commando, if the imprint of his dick when he pivots to face her is anything to go off of (though, whether he’s ditched underwear for the sake of the shoot or solely for comfort, Y/N isn’t sure). All she’s really, actually sure of is that she urgently needs to unglue her eyes from the outline of his cock. 

“D’you want a drink or anything? I mean, I don’t like to do any alcohol before shoots, but if you want, I have seltzers in my fridge.” 

He’s all soft attire — the sweats and bare feet padding over tile, curls a little mussed and swept back. A white tee coats his torso with a cartoonish bee in the center. The words ENJOY HEALTH, EAT YOUR HONEY circle the little piece of outlined artwork in blue. His nails are still green. 

Y/N clears her throat. “Do you have water?” 

“F’course.” 

The kitchen is beside the lounge, and he tells her, as he makes his way over and opens a cabinet to cull a glass, “You can have a seat if you’d like. Figured we’d get the details down before we start filming.” 

His couch is an onyx leather, its form like one of those fancy ones from a 1970s inspired catalog. Y/N sinks into the cushion. She crosses her legs. Uncrosses them. Behind her, the fridge whirs in the kitchen as the water pours into the glass. She’s admiring his fireplace when he stretches the beverage out to her.

“What are we feeling today?” the man winds around to the bend of the sectional, flopping back against the cushions with a sigh as his cotton-clad thighs splay, “…Slow and romantic? Something a little more rough?” 

“Used and abused,” Y/N responds, surprised she manages to keep her cadence as even and nonchalant as she does. The second the statement escapes her, though, she takes a long sip from her glass and hides her simper behind it. 

“Used and abused,” Harry parrots, sitting up a tad as his hands seek new homage from their priorly relaxed splay over the back of the couch. His palms smooth down the fronts of his thighs, instead, and he gives her this little grin; something mischievous that lets his dimples wink alive. “I think I can work with that.”

Yes. She’s certain he can, based on his track record of deviously, deliciously rough content. Three weeks ago she watched a video where his partner was laid out on a table, duck-taped limb to limb, and Y/N had watched his hand — rings removed — roam her body with such delicacy as he drove forward into her. It was all up until the point where the same hand had snaked up around her throat, and then he’d brought it back and smacked her right across the side of her unsuspecting face. It’d sent his partner’s head snapping to the side, and a wave of heat riding through Y/N, coursing through her blood as she’d flipped the vibrator between her thighs to a higher setting. 

Yeah. He can work with that. 

“Since we’re going with that route,” Y/N blinks out from the fog of memoirs circling back to Tiger’s hands exploring and pinching and delivering blows. 

Tiger is much more subdued in this setting. 

“Let’s talk things you’re into, things you’re not so into.” 

The young woman gnaws into her cheek to bridle her grin. “Um. Anal’s a go. Obviously.”

Harry nods, mouth friendly, “Okay.” 

Y/N deliberates. She takes another sip. Harry waits patiently. His green bores into her, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, pupils climbing up to the ceiling as she contemplates. She cocks her head.  

“…Face-fucking. That’s nice. I like dirty talk. I like getting my hair pulled. I like a little bit of pain. You know, like. Spanking. Face slapping, but not, like,” the edges of her mouth cave up, “MMA level—“

The joke culls a huff of soft laughter from him. He nods. 

“Just. General manhandling is good with me,” Y/N tells him. 

Harry nods, his fingers interlocked over his spread knees, and then he sits up a tad. 

“Alright. If we’re going with face fucking, I’m a fan of the trusty tap-tap-tap,” he tells her, motioning with his left palm and patting over his thigh in a series of three as he speaks, “If it ever gets to be too much and you can’t say it, just tap three times, yeah? Just like this.”

Y/N nods. She takes another sip. For a moment, Tiger still has his forearms braced over his lap, but then he sits up a little more. 

“And then when you can say, if anything’s uncomfortable, if you want me to do anything different, just let me know. Doesn’t matter if the camera’s on.” 

Y/N crosses her ankles. She uncrosses them.

“S’all about authenticity. Y’know,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over the plush of his bottom lip, “I don’t wanna be throwing you against the wall or choking you if it doesn’t feel good, even if it looks good on camera. If you’re a clit girl, we’ll play with your clit—“

Her thighs press together.

“If you’re a g-spot girl, we’ll focus on the g-spot.”

She swallows. 

“The throwing against the wall and the choking,” Y/N doesn’t bother hiding her simper as it grows, “Those are good with me, too. And— clit stuff. Yeah.” 

Tiger is hot. Fire hot, like lava coursing and bubbling over rigid stone, even in his soft attire with his soft curls and his soft smiles. He’s got these eyes that feel like they bore through her clothes, but it’s not in an uncomfortably hungry way. 

“What do you… what should I call you during the shoot?” 

His strawberry mouth curls a little. 

“I hear Tiger a lot. M’fine with whatever besides Harry on camera. …If you wanna get a little more into roles we can do Sir. But s’all up to you.” 

It feels like he’s just got this effect — this intense gaze that makes her tummy swirl. It’s not innately an odd shift, going from this entirely professional discourse to soft touches roaming up her sides once they’re in the bedroom. 

It’s the setting for their shoot, and she finds that he’s already got a camera set up on his dresser. One of those that opens up and has a little screen piece that swivels to show what’s currently recording. Harry trails over to it, toggles with the little screen, and, she assumes, begins recording. 

There’s a shag rug by the bed in cream. Y/N eyes it as Harry tugs his shirt over his head, as he makes his way over. Tiger is fire hot, but his touch skims her arm like testing the waters at first. His palms cups her face, the pads of his fingers grazing the sides of her neck, close to her nape, and then his cushiony mouth finds her own. That’s testing at first, too. It’s not a chaste, innocent first kiss by any means, but his mouth is gentle, at first. His hands aren’t hard, and his mouth slots against her own with a kind of tenderness. When her fingers tease up at his waistband, fingering at a warm line of skin between his sweats and his t-shirt, his mouth morphs hungrier. 

“Just—“ Y/N manages between searing kisses as his fingers work the seams of her shirt apart through button-work, “—-jumping right into it, huh?” It’s probably not the sexiest thing to say from the get go of the camera rolling, but she’s honestly still got bits of nerves coiling up in her. This is RideTheTiger. This is happening. She’s going to fuck RideTheTiger. 

Another short kiss, this one she can feel the cushiony pink of his mouth curving up into. 

“Sorry,” Harry amends against her mouth, lips ghosting wetly against her cupid's bow, and the word sounds sort of amused.

And then he’s manually spinning her and marching her over to the dresser, where the camera is set up, her stumbling, rushed gait steadied by the firm press of his thighs from behind as he walks her, colossal hands cupped over her arms. 

“This—” he starts, an introduction blatantly made for the lens, and her pulse stutters when his palm slides up and across and cups over her throat warmly — not quite squeezing, but just there. His other hand explores the expanse of her silhouette from the waist down, pads of his fingers roaming over her tummy, “—is the infamously naughty Birdie.” 

Her veins thrum with something, something hot when the ringed digits traipse to the button of her jeans, just looming over. 

“Can I take these off?” Harry murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tips of his curls tickle at her temple, and she knows he asks it low enough that it’s meant for her. She knows the camera will pick up on it anyways, too. 

“Yeah,” the agreement falls out meshed with an exhale, and her head tips back against his shoulder as his fingers do deft, impressively one-handed work at quick discarding. 

The other hand fondles at one of her tits, only covered with fabric for so long before he takes advantage of the opening he’d made along the line of buttons, pulling at one side for the pink polka-dotted cup of her bra to come out on display. This is all very pro-level disrobing. Y/N decides that when Harry multi-tasks, popping the button of her denim through, pinching at the zipper and tugging down, all still with his other hand caressing over padded flesh at her chest. Ultimately, though, both hands make their way to her hips, and his digits wriggle under either side of her waist band to strip her jeans off, until they rest at about an immobilizing mid-thigh, with an unceremonious yank. 

“I’m Tiger,” Harry talks again, finally, after what’d been a silent moment of apparent concentration, his chin ducked into the nook where her shoulder and her neck meet. 

The man’s fingers toy up under the hem of Y/N’s shirt, wandering over a bare sliver of skin between the top and the line of her panties before they climb the buttoned suture and make work there. 

A chill rolls down her spinal cord, stemming all the way from the nape of her neck, the back and underside of her skull, when Harry declares, almost like she’s not even there, his voice a low and heady baritone, “But, she’s going to call me Sir, and we’re gonna play a little rough with her today, because that’s what she asked for.” 

He’s mid her panting ribcage when the tone in his dialogue switches. It melts from sultry and low to something mirthy when the man sighs and huffs against her neck, like the rounded latches are a long-time nemesis, “Buttons, buttons, so many buttons.” 

Y/N can’t curb the surprised laugh that bubbles from her in response. Her hands rise from her sides (where they’d prior been pretty glued, mostly out of awe and the raw sort of submission manhandling incites), and her forearms brush against his own warm skin as the pads of her fingers shakily work over the stitch he’s on. Harry makes an amused sound into her skin as the corners of her mouth curl up. 

This is real. These are the real moments, the ones that she’s ogled so many times from the other side of the screen, caught on camera mid an otherwise entrancing, perfectly choreographed session of picture-perfect fucking. Like the one where he’d spit and it hadn’t landed where he’d wanted it to, or the one where his partner had spent so long in an angle with her hair over her face and his palm cupped over her mouth, that by the time he’d let up she was spitting out stray hair that’d sunk in past her lips, like a cat with a hairball. Soft laughter had bloomed from the both of them when recognition had dawned, and he’d fingered over her tongue to help her as they’d switched positions. It makes sense why Harry never seems to edit those moments out. 

Authenticity. 

Y/N hopes he doesn’t cut this fragment of the video out. 

“Sorry,” the young woman tells him, her voice garbled with giggles. 

His hands snake up from under her own and they’re the one to pop the final button through. A chilly ring brushes the inside of her wrist. The top separates. 

“There we go,” Harry says, tone colored with enthusiasm, and the way his fingers grip up under the cups of her bra, four for each, and tug abruptly, letting them rest under her freshly-bared tits, kind of, sort of gives her whiplash. 

“Teamwork,” his thumbs slip under either side of her underwear and slink those down until just enough is showing for the eye of the lens. 

Her gaze flits to the viewfinder, and the little icon of her denuded silhouette, pressed up against his chest, one swarthy, inked arm tucked over her ribcage and the sight of his other, ringed digits skimming lower, down her tummy, has her squirming in his grasp. Harry sponges kisses to the side of her neck, and then those ring-clad fingers slide between her legs. Every melty muscle in his arms grows wide awake and tensed like fucking stone. It’s only for a second, before he draws his index and his middle digit, splayed into a blissful V, across either side of her clit. That’s when she liquefies like putty in his hands again, humming softly. 

“…And we’re gonna play with her arse,” Harry tacks on for the camera, almost like it’s an offhand afterthought and not the entire basis of the scene they’ve etched out. 

Y/N laughs, but it melts off into something soft and whimpery when the V lingers and drags. 

“Would you like that?” Harry murmurs, nose tucked into her hair — another comment where the volume implies that it’s obviously meant to be shared between just the two of them — his mouth ghosting over her earlobe and his hand climbing up the ridges of her ribcage like a ladder, “Hm? You want me to play with you there?” 

When his palm expands to rest over the gap between the caging of bone, the space extends out on a breath and she rocks in his touch, hips rolling back subtly. “Mhm.” 

It’s not something he fails to pick up on. The pads of his fingertips expertly toggle at the clasp of her bra — honestly, she’s ludicrously impressed, not only by his keen recognition of the frontal clasp, but this seemingly innate, deft ability to discard clothing pieces with one hand. The straps relax and slip down her shoulders the second the cups fall free and apart. 

“Mhm?” Harry mimics; a low, teasing hum. Y/N thinks then, that this little, patronizing repetition thing he’s got going on could be categorized as a kink in and of itself. 

The palm that’d settled over her diaphragm slinks up to grope at one of her tits. 

It’s kind of game over from there. 

There’s something hard and solid digging into the small of her back, and the longer he spends fondling between her thighs, the longer he spends swiping his thumb over her nipple, the more heat teems to her core, like a glowing warmth that seeps and pulses. The more sure Y/N becomes that his fingertips are definitely culling that top coat she’d pictured all along, enhancing the color there with glinting excitement. 

“There’s a good girl,” Harry purrs when her legs spread a smidge more in response, despite the way they’re nearly glued together with the immobilizing squeeze of her waistband resting mid-thigh. 

The tip of his nose burrows into her hair and grazes at the skin on the side of her neck when his head ducks, fingers sneaking further until the pads press to explore where she’s gushing. His index and his thumb work in tandem to pinch at a nipple and tug. 

And then his tongue licks a practically searing stripe right beside her jugular, and his words send air over wet skin to soothe the flame, “…Getting my fingers all wet, aren’t you?” 

Gameovergameovergameovergameover.

Shelosesshelosesshelosessheloses.

Another burst of air over the wet skin, the soft creak of a chuckle — that’s what reminds her that she’s definitely not breathing. 

Fuck. Y/N sucks in air with a chest tensed like metal armor. His teeth nip over her earlobe. 

And then RideTheTiger slides his slick fingers out from between her legs, coaxing (when she sags in his grip like a marionette that’s had its strings snipped), “Why don’t you give them a little spin and show them the pretty plug you’ve been wearing for me, pet.”

Touch, touch, touch. When Y/N pivots for him, turning her backside to the camera, his mouth brushes the crest of her cheekbone. His warm pecs go flush with her own chest, his palms settle on her love handles and the insides of his rings stipple chills to combat the heat of flesh on flesh. He sponges a kiss to her throat when the young woman throws a glance back to the little screen and shakily presses her palms to the globes of her backside, pulling the flesh there apart to show off the pretty end, silicone petals cradling the shape of a rose. 

That’s when he kneels, cheek pressed to the side of her thigh, when he casts his gaze to the plug with that telltale furrow to his brow bone that she’s seen caught on camera so many times. That’s when his teeth burrow into the pillow of his bottom lip, when he brushes a nearly tentative touch over the plug with the tips of his fingers. That’s when Harry nudges at it and jade bounces from the pallid pink plastic to the shape of her jawline tensing above in response, mouth growing mirthy. 

Nothing prepares her for the way he praises, almost like he’s in awe (and nearly too low for the camera to catch), “So pretty.”

A crease works in between her own eyebrows when his index and his thumb pinch over the plug and twist. And then he lays his thumb over the base and pushes, lightly, as if it can go any further. He draws the pad of his index over the hilt of the plug almost thoughtfully, and then tap-taps in a pair of two that makes her roll her lips into her mouth

“Don’t move,” Harry instructs, after a moment, sneaky, devious fingertips withdrawing altogether. She’s holding her breath again. Y/N readjusts her grip. 

“Just like that,” comes his croon from below, undeniably heady and entirely responsible for the warmth churning between her thighs, “…Just like that, little bird. Show it off, baby.” 

Little bird hits her like a fucking freight train. 

It’s just a play on words, a moniker he’s melded from her stage name, her online personality. It’s been all of, maybe, six minutes — a generous consideration for the timeframe — and he’s already managed to morph her porno pseudonym into a pet name with his soft murmur. 

She’s so focused on the ironic way that such a delicate thing off his tongue makes something so violently carnal stir within her that the young woman doesn’t even notice that he’s been sat near her thighs for a solid second, unspeaking and untouching, besides the paste of his warm cheek beside the press of her hands. 

It’s a suspiciously mischievous sort of silence, but Tiger is no secret-keeper, not when he pats over the back of her leg, a one-tap gesture, and rises to announce, one third amused and two-thirds smug, “Thumbnail.”

The admission is so crude and unexpected that it draws a peal of sputtering laughter from her, feigned indignation meshing with mirth as he rises from the floor, all cocky with an unfairly alluring curl that’s strayed from the rest and flopped to lay over his forehead. 

“You want to use my ass as your thumbnail?” 

Muted raspberry breaks its relaxed line to curve up, obviously self-satisfied and obviously unashamed. Y/N doesn’t think she’ll ever quite keep up with the casual nature of Harry’s mannerisms, not when he hums and his grin splits further, twisting around her to daub her jaw with a kiss.

“…And not my pretty face?” Y/N blinks.

“Last I checked—'' Harry tells her, fingers raking through her roots and palm cradling at her scalp in a way that coaxes chills to bud and roam down the nape of her neck. The digits twist her hair into a bun until his palm is squeezing at her hair all bunched like a flower blooming in reverse, “—You were here to be used and abused, per your request. Not to ask questions.” 

Despite the way he cranes her neck back with the motion, the way it has her jaw unlatching and a surprised exhale full of want escaping, despite the way he drags his teeth down her neck in a line, nipping, Y/N manages to keep her voice impressively even. 

“You don’t want my pretty face painted with your cum as the thumbnail?” she baits, throat bobbing on a swallow. 

He bites. 

At first, his lashline narrows a smidge in obvious inkling that the brazen words have affected him, but then he tips his head and his smug beam morphs more sluggish, more pleased than amused. 

“You want my cum painting your pretty face?” 

“Mm,” Y/N hums in agreement when he turns her head to paste a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” 

His tone is suggestive as he manhandles her over onto the fuzzy rug she’d admired before things got all murky with arousal and …cinematic. Y/N twists in his grasp until he’s nudging her onto her knees with his hands. 

And his voice is low, easy like a sigh, each note interlaced with nonchalance and seemingly effortless power, “Let’s see how good you suck cock.”

Before Harry shoves his waistband down, though, he stuffs a hand into his pocket and culls his phone. He gives her this look down from behind it, thumb tucked behind gray elastic.  It’s this wordless, expressionless sort of seeking; all good? Y/N nudges with her chin, lashes fluttering. Tiger toggles over the screen one-handed, and her eyes flit to the uneven pull at his sweats — if only for a second — that showcases bare skin and the cut of a V-line on one side. As he nudges the sweats off to rest under his balls, the phone pings. It’s the sound of a notification — he’s recording. 

His dick is pretty. Pretty in pink with a prominent vein on the underside and a soft dusting of neatly trimmed, dark pubic hair over his pelvic bone that his happy trail had foreshadowed, and his tip is a ruddy shade that matches the tint of his mouth. She’s seen his cock before, obviously, but ogling it in person rather than as a conglomeration of pixels is a different sort of experience. He’s always looked big on screen, the sheer size of him with a fist over his shaft always implying it. But he’s big. Big enough for two of her hands to cradle over his cock comfortably with the head peeking out from her grip, digits never quite meeting in the middle. Y/N spits into a palm before wrapping it over his shaft, eyes flickering up front under her lashes to meet the lens of the camera. 

“You’re so big,” the young woman admits after a moment, irises bouncing from her grip to the phone looming over, and she drags her tongue over her other palm to cup over him with two like it’s proof. 

And Harry strokes over the side of her scalp, almost like he’s wordlessly scratching a dog’s ears in praise, a soft, pleased huff escaping through his nostrils and his lips shaping over a smug sort of beam that never really unseals. 

Almost tentatively, with her eyes still bouncing from the lens to his cock and back, Y/N leans forward and drags his tip over her tongue. Harry sighs in response, fingertips still hovering at her roots. She purses her lips and lets saliva dribble from her mouth onto his head messily, swiping over the wetness with her thumb, and then she strokes down his shaft with two hands as she wraps her lips over him and draws a circle with her tongue. The subtle, although sharp, inhale she earns in response to the motion has her batting her lashes up at the camera.  

“You’re not shy at all, are you? Not in front of the camera,” Harry says after a moment. 

He’s so obviously bridling a hiss when she drags her tongue up under his leaky tip, his front teeth lodging into the pillow of his bottom lip and brows furrowing. Despite the phone cradled over her face, the young woman still has enough room to observe his. Y/N bats her lashes coyly, pupils flitting back to the camera as her mouth opens to showcase the view of her hands working in gentle twists while she drags his cockhead over her tastebuds. 

“…No, you’re not that shy, little girl that you were in the cafe at all.”

She seals her lips over his tip, hollows her cheeks, and hums. 

“…All prim and proper,” the fingertips that’d scraped over the side of her scalp trail to the back of her head, “…Didn’t even wanna say you liked cum dripping out of you. Didn’t wanna let everyone know that you’re a little anal whore.” 

The words coax her to clench over the plug. 

“…S’okay, baby,” Harry tells her after a moment, “I like that you’re a whore on camera for me,”and then the hand that’d cradled over the back of her skull encourages her own palm to slowly unwrap and fall away as he curls it over his shaft to guide it’s aim. 

Y/N pulls off, and Tiger smears the tip over her spit-slicked, swollen mouth. It parts, and Harry traces over the open seam of her lips like he’s applying lip gloss. 

“Please,” the young woman says, mouthing over his tip, almost inaudible. 

“Hm?” 

“Please,” Y/N repeats, and the drag of his tip slides over her bottom lip on the s. 

Harry inhales from above. He doesn’t immediately give her what she wants, instead opting to draw over her cupid’s bow as he tips his head, voice quiet and still somehow full of a dominant edge. “So polite. You wanna taste more of my cock?” 

The young woman nods, eyes tipped up, and he smears his cockhead over her mouth again. Harry’s teeth nudge into the plush of his bottom lip before he directs, “Stick your tongue out for me. I’ll give you a little taste.” 

And he does. He grazes her tongue with it the moment it’s on show, basking in her soft breaths puffing out against him and the sweet sight of her gaze, unwavering. 

“S’that good?” Harry asks, mouth curling at the (currently) brazenly lewd young woman at his feet, “What you wanted?” 

And she just nods up at him. Despite the way she wants more, the way she wants to close her lips around him and keep twisting her grasp to watch his seams split in ecstacy, Y/N motions lightly with her head. A little sound escapes the back of her throat when he drags the tip of his cock back over her top lip and sighs. 

“You really are such a little whore, aren’t you?” Harry says, tracing along the open seam of her lips with the tip and dragging it over her tongue again, “Give me a pretty smile. Show me just how much you like it.“ 

His words melt off into a rumbly hum when, as he draws over the border of her bottom lip and takes his cock off her tongue, her pretty teeth slowly seep shut and the corners of her mouth form something absolutely overjoyed. Her head cocks, and she grins up at him. All innocuous too, if it weren’t for the head of a cock smearing over the edges of her smile. His thumb slinks out from the hold he’s got over his dick to graze with the pad at the shiny white of her top teeth. 

“Good girl.”

Somewhere around there is when her teeth part and his thumb mingles onto her tongue. Then, the young woman wraps her lips over the digit and sucks. The tension of her cheeks hollowing over his finger in the silence is cut short with a ping — Harry turns the camera off and flings the phone somewhere in the direction of the bed. There’s no definitive thump behind her, so Y/N assumes the man makes it. She hums and pulls off of the digit with a pop and a giggle. 

Dimples pluck alive beside his smile. “Something funny?” 

“No,” the young woman clears her throat, the apples of her cheeks still emphasized and round with her apparent amusement, “Nothing. It’s just.” She blinks up at him, “…Surreal, sort of. Your dick’s just as pretty in person as it is on camera.”

Tiger cocks his head and swipes over her bottom lip with the tip of said dick. She’s quite good at stroking his ego. 

“Thanks. That’s sweet, darling.”  

A furrow works between his brows as her tongue peeks out to daub at the lingering head. “You watch a lot of my videos?” 

And the admission comes almost hungry, with no remorse, “Mm. Touch myself to them.” 

That’s when his brows crease more, when heat swells down through the trench of his tummy and teems up the underside of his balls, where they drive taut at the words. 

“Christ.”

Blown jade bouncing from her lips to the contact of her own eyes and back. Eventually, he swallows and directs, “Tongue out.” 

When she displays it for him, jaw wide, those shambles splinters of composure seemingly fuse. The Harry that emerges nearly gives her whiplash. 

“You touch yourself to my videos?” Harry coos, and the words are coated with so much condescension that Y/N is sure she’d be humiliated in any other circumstance. 

Her tongue twitches under his cockhead. The man looming over swipes that same, leaky tip over her taste buds, and his grin broadens into something like a borderline sadistic Cheshire cat. And then he’s leaning over a smidge, cock still angled over her outstretched tongue, opposite hand fondling under that, at her jaw, and squeezing at her cheeks. 

“That is so—“ emphasizing the words with the slap of his tip against her tongue, Harry grits out, “—fucking—“ another tap that has her uselessly lolled tongue jolting and a garbled little sound wresting from the back of her throat, “—cute.”

Y/N blinks up at him, one hand uncurling slowly and falling away as he nudges the back of her head to swallow more of him in past her lips. 

“Why don’t you use that hand and play with your little clit for me? The way you do when you’re watching me.” 

She makes a muffled noise around him as he sinks in further, and her hand traipses between her poorly, poorly splayed thighs. 

“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, though whether the praise is directed at the way the tips of her fingers pry between her legs or the way she blinks wetly over his cock as she takes more of him into her mouth, Y/N is unsure. “There’s a good girl. Look at me— yeah. Fuck.” 

He holds onto either side of her head, long fingers splaying over her skull, and the young woman splutters when his tip prods at the back of her throat and teases at her gag reflex. The tip of her nose grazes his happy trail, so all in all, it’s a solid effort in one go. Harry holds her there for a moment, relishing in the squeeze of her throat over him as she fights sputtering more, and a throaty groan rips from his vocal chords before his fingers tangle into her hair. That’s when he yanks her off. 

Her chest is already rolling in pants, and the way his palm collides with the fleshy area of her cheek nearly launches her lightheaded headspace into overload. The blow isn’t loud, and it doesn’t really hurt, but he does it a second time, palm grazing over the same fragment of skin. It’s the hand that doesn’t have any rings, and Y/N’s mouth curls up in borderline delirious bliss, teeth unsealed and lips swollen and saliva-daubed. Tiger coaxes a moan when he goes for it a third time. But this time, his hand snakes to palm over the column of her throat and squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Harry tells her, thumb cruising over an inch of skin, “Such a slut for it.”

Her pulse thunders under his grasp. It’s almost like his touch pries the nearly animalistic giggle off her lips. She’s still beaming open-mouthed, and her voice is raw when she beckons, “Yeah—“

And then there’s a ragged gasp and subdued sort of gag, coated with surprise, when Tiger nudges her face forward and unceremoniously shoves his dick back down her throat, his brows pinched.  

“Get that mouth back on my cock.” 

Her hands find his thighs, just wavering over them, curling and unflexing as her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Don’t close your eyes. Look up at me. Look up at me— there you go,” Harry cooes when, despite every instinct that coaxes every muscle in her face to clench and tense, Y/N follows his directions and blinks up at him through a watery sheen. “Shit.”

And then he’s hauling her off and she’s gasping for breath, only for a short moment before he slides back past her jaw until her chin is flush with his sac and he’s pulsing in the warm confines of her mouth. Her lashes flutter. A devious kind of laugh bubbles from him, breathy, and low, and short when the heels of her palms press into the sturdy muscle beneath his laurels. Except this time he doesn’t yank her all the way off for a third time. He holds her there for a second, swearing softly at the view, and then tugs her off until his tip’s on her tongue and pumps back in. It’s a subtle motion — testing, like he’s observing her reaction, really assessing her comfort levels with this. He does it a few more times, as gentle of a motion as it really can be until she squints her eyes shut and muzzles a cough, blinking up at him rapidly through the blur. 

Harry swipes a thumb under her eye, where a rivulet leaks, praising almost in a whisper as she practically vibrates at his feet, “That’s it.” 

Another second to gasp in air, and then he’s fucking her mouth, brushing her gag reflex with every drive forward and every pump out. Y/N sort of loses herself in it — in the fingertips burrowing into her roots, in the huffs and groans that escape him, in the warm muscle beneath her touch, in the way his dick slides down her throat. It’s quite nice. RideTheTiger is fucking her mouth, and it’s nice.

“Look at you,” Harry hums after a while, the hold on the back of her head firm, and she blinks at him all teary-eyed, gagging around him as her chin presses flush with his balls. “So sloppy. Made my nice joggers all wet.” 

Drool pools down her chin, and strings of it dangle from his balls and sully the fabric further. She bats her lashes up at him, and tears slink off from her waterline. Her fingers flex and relax over his thigh, never quite loosening the tension there fully. The man swipes the thumb on his free hand under her eye, where inky black has smudged off from her lashes, and the lewd, left corner of his mouth tips up lopsidedly. 

“You’re such a pretty girl when you’re making a mess,” and then, to nail the demeaning compliment home with the most heady, joyfully smug tone, “Yes you are, little bird.”

His sluggish grin morphs into a borderline pornographic lip-bite then, and he cranes his neck back with a throaty hum, fingers tensing and relaxing, before his digits ultimately tighten in her hair and coax the young woman off. She coughs like she hasn’t breathed in ages, 

Y/N doesn’t know how she gets up to her feet. It’s a lightheaded clamber, coaxed by Harry’s fingers tugging at her hair, his hand on her arm, his definitive, “Get up.” Somehow, though, she manages, despite the fact that her jeans are still half-on, and Harry steadies her and makes her dizzy all at once when his mouth presses hungrily to hers. One hand cradles the side of her neck and the other braces her at the hip. It’s a heated kiss, like Tiger doesn’t mind that her chin is coated with spit, or that the same spit smears over his own jaw as their mouths connect. Y/N nearly trips over her own feet as he walks her, backwards, into the general direction of the bed. The mattress meets the backs of her knees and his hand (which has, since settling on her hip, mingled up her side and cupped over one of her tits) sends her toppling back against the sheets. Harry nearly snickers at her look of indignation. Instead though, he tucks his fingers up under her half-down denim and tugs until her pants are off and she finally, finally has the ability to spread her legs. He tosses those onto the rug, and Y/N watches Harry finish disrobing, kicking the gray sweats into a rumpled pile beside her jeans. 

The camera is still rolling on the dresser, and it’ll keep rolling. It’ll keep rolling when he sinks his face between her thighs, it’ll keep rolling when he pulls the plug out and nudges his fingers in, when he slips his cock into her cunt and then, eventually, switches to her other hole. Or maybe it’ll go in an all different order. Tiger cradles her by the hips and repositions her roughly. The lens doesn’t catch the way she’s all shimmery between her legs with want from its angle, but Harry does, eyes glued there as his fingertips trail featherlight up her thigh and back down. 

A crease works in between his brows like he’s contemplating something, and then he pats the same fragment of flesh he’d been caressing and instructs, “Flip over.” 

Y/N tips over to her side and then rolls onto her tummy, but when she clambers onto her hands and knees Harry beckons, “Where are you going, little bird?” He sighs, warm palm grasping over her ankle and yanking her back towards the edge of the bed, just until Y/N is splayed and forced to shimmy her way back into a pretty arch. “Hm?” 

His hand is still gripped over the joint when the other climbs up the back of her naked thigh, skin on skin petting softly there. “Where are you going, little girl?”  

She’s going to implode. She nearly does when his colossal palms cup either cheek of her backside and spread. He hums like he’s pleased. 

“Which hole should I fuck first…” Harry ponders aloud from behind, but it all feels sort of rhetorical when he nudges over her tightest, little hole, pressing like he’s teasing a breach with the tip of his digit. 

She thinks he must be using his other hand, too, because the pad of his thumb drives a circle over her puffy, spit-slicked clit. The ring of muscle flutters. 

She’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous starting, but the people Carla had hired all shared the same values on work and life. Y/N knew she’d be in safe hands. The company is small but slowly growing. It allows for every employee to get to know each other and everyone to remember that together, they can be successful. Y/N had been at the job for two years and, with time, brought new coworkers. 

There is Estrella, who loves to talk to you about astrology, ironically enough. She states that the invisible string theory is real and that if everyone tracked it, they would notice just how small the world is. 

Carmy has a tough exterior, but once anyone gets him talking, he never stops. He loves chatting about his family and his pet Pitbull named Daisy. 

Maeve is petite, and every other month comes in with a new color in their hair. Y/N enjoys it when everyone in the office places bets on what it will be. 

Tatum is from Scotland and loves to remind everyone when they all go out for drinks on the weekend. 

Chessy is the only one who works remotely, but when she comes in, she is always laughing in the office. They also all get a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables from her garden. 

Overall, Y/N knows she had the best coworkers and wouldn’t change her job for the world, but as their company grows, so does the need in their team. The newest hire is Harry Styles, who has come in as a computer technician to help develop their website and also help with any internal security. Honestly, all she knew was that it was a complex job. 

Harry was on the quiet side. She tried to start conversations with him, but he always seemed to brush her off. At first, Y/N wondered if she should take it personally but soon learned he did that to everyone. Even though he didn’t open up to them, they still invited Harry to join them. 

The thing was, he rejected all their dinners. Y/N loved going to a Korean BBQ Maeve introduced them to, and Harry claimed not to eat meat (not that she didn’t think it wasn’t true. Chessy was vegetarian, after all.) They would go to a bar and share a few drinks when they knew they would all be having a long weekend off. Harry always claimed he had an early morning. It didn't matter if they offered to meet earlier. Y/N’s favorite nights were trivia nights that happened at a local brewery. Y/N was a beat, especially in history. Harry declined, and this one hurt her the most.

 Everyone would ask Harry to join. 

Karaoke. Can’t hold a tune.

Bowling. Too loud. 

It seems there was an excuse for everything.

Everyone began to stop inviting him out, and while Y/N didn’t enjoy being told no, she would send notes to the office with the time and place of what they would be doing. She’d always keep an eye on the door, but Y/N went home disappointed each time.

The thing was, Y/N was determined to make a friend out of Harry. She soon learned large public settings must be overwhelming for him and decided to find a new way to approach him. Everyone took lunch at the same time in the office except for Harry. Sometimes, they all ate at the sub shop across the street. Most times, Y/N brought food from home, and she cooked. While she liked eating out, Y/N preferred a home-cooked meal. She caught Harry taking his lunch half an hour later than her and used that to her advantage. 

They had a conference that always remained empty as everyone preferred the main lounge. Harry went in there every day for his lunch hour. One day, Y/N walks in, smiles at him, and sits as far away as she can. She made sure to only be there for ten minutes. The next day, she stayed for twenty and wished him a nice lunch when she left.  

Slowly, Harry begins to spare her glances, but Y/N keeps to herself until the day she sits across from him. 

“Hi, Harry. Is it okay for me to sit here?” 

No answer. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” 

He fidgets with his fork. 

“I saw a lime bike out front. Did you ride that today?” 

Harry looks at her briefly before staring back at his plate. 

“I’ve always wanted to try one, but I’m honestly scared of being hit by a car. Chessy lets me ride hers when I go down to visit her. She’s got beautiful trails. You’d probably enjoy it.” 

Y/N thinks that’s enough for today and excuses herself. She doesn’t realize Harry noticed she didn’t take a bite of her lunch. When she goes back to her desk after using the restroom, she finds three chocolate chip cookies sitting on her desk. Y/N rushes to try one, doesn’t even think of who delivered them or that a green-eyed man was standing right outside waiting to hear her reaction. 

With time, it seems Harry is coming to appreciate Y/N’s presence. He has never expressed it, but she knows because he nods when he agrees to something she says or tightens the hold on his fork when Y/N shares something upsetting. Y/N had not gotten more than two words out of him. At this point, Y/N felt like Harry knew everything about her; all she knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair always looked soft. 

One day, after many lunches together, she finds Harry reading a book. Y/N knows he might want quiet, but her curiosity gets the best of her. 

“Any good?”

Harry looks up and grimaces. “Think it’s really boring.” 

Y/N laughs because she wasn’t expecting that response. “Then put it down.” 

He shakes his head. “Don’t like not knowing the ending.”

Y/N shrugs, “if you don’t like a book, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture of it all. Skip to the end if you're curious.” She understands she spoke too much and excuses herself. 

The next day, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, but this time, a new book is in his hand. Y/N bites back a smile. 

“What’s this one about?”

“My sister recommended it,” he defends. 

Y/N isn’t halted by his harsh tone. “What’s it about?” 

“Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice.” He shows her the book cover. 

“Like the movie?” Y/N asks.

Harry laughs, and Y/N feels successful. His laughter rings in her ears. It’s a lovely sound, and she wishes to hear it more. “Yeah…I like the movie.” 

“Me too,” she gushes. “Do you think I’d like the book?”

He frowns, “if you like Jane Austen.” 

“Might have to pick it up next time I’m in the shops.”

+

Their interactions are solely during their lunches but sometimes spills out during work. Y/N seemed to have an issue with her computer and radioed IT. She needed to submit her document, but her desktop appeared to freeze whenever she opened a new file. Harry knocked on her door, and she welcomed him in. Y/N explained the issue, and Harry was quick to get to work. It was only a few minutes when she noticed that her document was open and her computer wasn’t having a meltdown.

“Thank you so much, Harry!” Y/N cheers, knowing he saved her. 

Harry shrugs because it’s his job. “You have a nice photo.” He’s pointing to her picture frame on her desk. It’s a picture of her and a dog in Iceland at the end of her hike. It was taken back when she was nineteen years old. 

“Thank you. I took that on my first solo trip.” She bites her lip, hoping Harry takes the bait. 

“Where to?” He asks curiously. 

She silently cheers, “Iceland.”

“Is that your dog?” 

“I actually found him mid-hike and took him back with me. I hoped to see his owner on the trail, but there was no luck. He didn’t even seem worried. Once I returned to the car park, his owner was there. After that hike, I decided I liked the company of a dog and returned home to adopt Tutter, a Jack Russel Terrier who loves to play fetch.”

“Why isn’t Tutter on your desk?” 

Y/N feels her face flush, “now, don’t be mean. I love my son, but that trip taught me I can do anything I set my mind to, whether alone or with company.”

Harry gives her the slightest smile. “I-I learned Italian because I always dreamed of having an Italian home.”

Y/N’s eyes brighten. Harry is opening up to her, and instead of pushing, she offers more of herself. “I’ve dreamed of visiting. The Amalfi coast is my dream to swim in. Silly, I know,” she brushes off, trying to downplay her excitement. 

Harry doesn’t let her. “You’ll make it.”

He finally excuses himself. Y/N is happy for the rest of the day because she realizes Harry is allowing her in.

+

September means the preparations for Halloween have begun. It starts with little things, from coasters and mugs to the occasional treat. One day, a tiny spider sits on his desk for a second. Harry believed it was real until it began to glow purple. Harry kept it on his desk next to his sticky notes. He doesn't do anything about it; there’s no need. By the second week, the office is entirely decorated. Harry admits a few decorations have scared him, especially the skeleton in the corner of the restroom.

It’s a quiet day when he’s walking by the break room on his way to the secluded office to have lunch when he hears people talking. Harry pauses because he hears Y/N’s voice mixed in with everyone else. 

“But it seems like he doesn’t like us,” Harry hears quietly. 

“It’s hard,” Y/N defends. “You’re all extroverts. It can be overwhelming.” 

Harry knows she’s trying for them to understand.

“But Carla is all about unity in the office. This is a concern.”

“It’s not, Carmy.” Y/N shuts him down, clearly upset she had to defend him.

Harry decides he’s heard enough and decides to eat lunch alone in his car. He’s thankful it was a sandwich and nothing he had to heat up. For the entire lunch and the rest of the day, all he thinks about are the words of his coworkers. 

Y/N looked for Harry, excited to talk about a book she started, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have been concerned, but it’s clear no one saw him since before lunch. She wishes Harry could confide in her even if a fraction of what she shares with him/ 

The next day, everyone walks into the office at their usual time, everyone making their rounds together to the break room to prepare their coffees and store their lunch in the fridge. When Y/N walks in, she sees her coworkers huddled around the table and peeks around them to see what has captured their attention. There on the table is a box of Halloween cookies from a bakery uptown with a note attached. 

Enjoy - HS

Y/N lets a smile take over her face. She knew Harry cared about them but understood why he finally did something. She tells her coworkers they owe him an apology, and they all agree. Y/N makes sure to head to Harry’s office and thank him for the cookies. Harry tells her it’s nothing. She bounces away to her office, where Estrella, Carmy, Maeve, and Tatum are standing outside her door. 

“Can you come with us? Feel like he likes you.” Tatum tells her. 

Y/N sighs and tells them to follow her. Once again, she knocks on his door, and they all file in when he welcomes her in. Harry looks at them confused. 

“Uh, is there an issue?” Harry asks, concerned. 

Carmy starts, “we want to apologize if you overheard us yesterday.” 

“Right,” Harry sighs, knowing it might be a good time to share with them. If he trusted Y/N and she trusted them, he knew he could also start to. 

“It was wrong of us,” Maeve continues. “Y/N raves about how smart and nice you are, but we don’t get to see that. We’re sorry.” 

Everyone else repeats the sentiment while Harry looks at Y/N, who offers him an encouraging smile. She must know his anxiety is through the roof. 

Harry takes a deep breath, “right, uh.” He looks down at his shoes, untied lace on his black Adidas. “I struggle with social anxiety and new environments. It’s better than when I was a kid, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed even more when being the new guy.” 

“No worries. We get that,” Tatum expresses. “Estrella gets bad migraines.” 

“Don’t air other people’s personal stuff,” Y/N reminds them. 

“We’re sorry,” they offered one last time. “Thanks for the cookies.” 

After that, they hurried out while Y/N stayed behind. 

“I wanted to apologize,” he begins.

“You don’t–” Harry cuts her off. “You’ve made me feel comfortable.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “Not enough, it seems.” 

“It can just be too much sometimes.”

“I-I get panic attacks.” Y/N shares, surprising herself. “When I overwhelm myself, it can happen. It’s uncommon and has not happened at work, but I understand.” 

“Thank you for sharing,” Harry tells her honestly. “Lunch?” 

“See you in a bit then.”

+

Through September, Y/N and Harry have lunch together every day. They read together, Harry more into classic literature, and Y/N loving to devour a juicy romance that has her pausing every few minutes, trying her best not to scream because the love interest brushed hands. Some days, Y/N will do a sudoku game while Harry does the daily crossword. Y/N likes to solve the Wordle of the day and most times asks Harry for help if she fears she might not get it. Some days, Y/N brings in her laptop during lunch because she is behind and needs to catch up. Harry reminds her to relax. He knows it’s easier said than done, so he tells her about the book he’s reading or asks about her dog and the snacks he eats. 

Before she knows if they’ve made it to October. One of the best months of the year. Y/N loves planning events, and this is one she wishes Harry would say yes to. She knocks on his office door, and Harry freezes, staring at his computer screen. He glances at the calendar; it's the first Monday of the month, and Harry knows they’ve planned a fun event. 

Harry is practicing his excuse when Y/N walks in with a bright smile, wearing a “Great Pumpkin” shirt with Snoopy and Charlie Brown. She has told him it’s her favorite movie to watch during the month and “The Conjuring” Harry wasn’t sure how the sweetest girl he knew could handle a horror film like that. He had told her she was fearless.

“Hi, Y/N, pretty shirt.” 

Y/N looks down at it as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. She beams at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry!” 

Harry asks how her day is going and shares how there was traffic on the way down and how she didn’t have time to stop by her favorite coffee shop because there was a line out the door. “Pumpkin spice isn’t even that good, H. I mean, it’s okay, but I wanted my coffee.”

He laughs at her pouting and promises to make her one during lunch. She perks up at his mention of their shared time together. 

“Speaking of our time together. We plan to go to a haunted pumpkin patch in the next town over if you want to join us. It’s two weeks from now, so it's the 21st.” Harry could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t think he could say no to her.

“Everyone is going?”

“We invited everyone, but only Carmy, Estella, Maeve, Tatum, and myself are going. Carla was not for it. Dan is warming up to us but still says no. Though he did agree for trivia next week.”

Before he can stop himself, he says, “yes.”

“You will?” Y/N answers surprised. 

“Mhm…uh, it sounds like fun,” he says unconvincingly.

Y/N’s smile brightens, “I’m not hung on haunts, but they’ve got amazing apple cider you’ve got to try with me.” 

“Happy to join,” he tells her honestly. “Let me know the ticket cost or if we need to purchase our own.”

She nods eagerly. It’s clear Harry has just made her day. 

+

The day comes faster than he’s ready, and while a part of him is excited, Harry feels his nerves will get the best of him. Y/N had told them no one was dressing up in costume and even went as far as to send him a photo of her outfit to assure him she wasn’t playing a joke with him. She was wearing bell bottoms with a Mickey Mouse in a pumpkin shirt. She told him it was his favorite to wear each year. 

Harry knew it would be cold, so he wore a simple Halloween shirt in his closet and loose-fitting jeans. His jacket in his car he knew would keep him warm throughout the night. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone (only Y/N) but also wanted to look nice outside of the office for once. When Harry parked, Y/N told him she’d wait by the entrance for him, and he couldn’t miss her as she had a cute pumpkin headband on.

It seemed Y/N spotted him, too, because she rushed towards him. “Hi, Harry,” she greeted with a cheery smile.

“Hi, you look lovely,” he offered her a small compliment that made his hands sweat.

“You’re too sweet. Come on, we were waiting on you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along to where everyone else is. 

Everyone offers their greeting, and he receives a few compliments on his tame outfit. It’s an old Halloween shirt he got at a vintage shop in New Orleans five years ago. His sister went on a trip and asked him to join. Harry could never say no to her. 

Harry notices everyone begins to drift off into conversations, but Y/N stays by his side. He takes the time to admire her as she looks around at all the decorations. There are a lot of people, but it seems they are heading to the pumpkin patch. There are stalls selling sweet treats, and he keeps in mind to buy Y/N a cider, remembering she mentioned loving it. Harry has always thought being in a relationship to be intimidating. He loves love but struggles to put himself out there, to allow someone else to get to know him, but here is Y/N, who managed to worm her way into his life, knocking down all of his walls. 

Harry likes Y/N.

It’s something he took a long time to figure out, but when he realized the excitement of seeing her each morning, he looked forward to it. He let it consume him, but he had no idea if she could feel the same way. 

“Did you drive here, Harry?” Y/N asks, breaking their silence. 

“I did,” he answers. 

“Do you think you could maybe take me home?” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I came with Tatum, but she’s been wanting to take the time to connect with Estella, if you know what I mean,” Y/N gestures to them kissing on hay bales. 

Harry had no idea that there were feelings between them. “I can do that, Y/N.” 

“Great!” She cheers gratefully. “I owe you an apple cider, then.” 

Y/N eagerly walks them to the stand, and before she can pay for both, Harry slips the kind older lady a twenty walking away with their drinks. Y/N stays behind, shocked, but quickly catches up, pouting at Harry. “Harry, I was going to pay.”

He shook his head, “my mum would have my head if I let you pay.”

Y/N bends her head, careful to take a sip of the warm drink. “Well, thank you.”

Maeve bounces over to them. “Hi beauties, we’re ready to start if you all are.” 

Harry eyes Y/N, waiting to see her response. Y/N offers her friend a large grin, and Harry agrees he’s ready. He throws away their ups, and once he finds Y/N with the group, he slithers to stand behind her. Y/N offers him a tense smile as the group tries to decide who will lead. 

“I can go in front,” Harry offers, sensing no one wanting to make the first move. Everyone thanks him and heads to the first maze. Y/N informs him it’s once based on the catacombs in France. 

“There’s a movie based on the catacombs,” Y/N shares as they walk together.

“As Above So Below,” Harry says. “It spooked me.” 

“You’ve seen it,” she laughs, holding onto his arm for a second, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s a good one,” he agrees. 

They fall into silence as the chatter of their coworker fills the air. Harry sees Y/N get fidgety, but she’s smiling as she leads the way to the short line. “I’m actually really nervous,” she tells Harry. 

“We’ll be fine. I got you,” he assures Y/N.

Harry extends his hand, and she accepts it. He intertwines their fingers and pulls her along as the line moves slowly. Y/N does her best not to think about the feeling of his hand, but it fits perfectly between hers. She feels her hand begin to sweat and wants to pull it away, but Harry has a firm grip on her. 

“Is it okay?” Harry nods, gesturing to their hands. 

“Safe, uh, I feel safe.”

The worker asks how many, and Y/N peeks behind Harry to tell her six. Harry is grateful Y/N knows when to take charge because while he can lead a scary maze and knows everyone is dressed in costumes, he still feels nervous speaking to strangers. Harry squeezes her hand once in thanks. She gives him two quick squeezes in return.

Harry guides them in. Y/N lets go of his hand to hide behind Harry, her hands on his shoulder as she peeks behind him. There is a group ahead where she can hear the people in front screaming, which allows her to prepare for the scare, if that is even possible. 

Her eyes widen in amazement as she takes in the darkness of the building. Everything is covered in black cloth. She can see the spots where actors will jump out. Y/N mumbles an apology to Harry for holding on to him tight. Estella is behind her, screaming at everything that moves. Harry steps through the curtain, and she feels her hold on him loosen. As she is stepping closer to reach him, a man screams in her face, making her rush forward and propel Harry into a wall. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Y/N apologized repeatedly as Harry rushed them to finish the maze. She felt her heartbeat in her throat and knew she needed to calm down. One look at Harry, and he rushed her to a dark corner, not concerned about their friends. 

“Y/N? I’m okay. You’re okay.” Harry tried assuring her.

She repeated it in her head. They were okay. They got out of the dumb maze, and Harry wasn’t hurt. It took her a few minutes to realize she had a panic attack. Y/N had not even felt it coming and didn’t think a haunted house would trip her into one, but with all the overthinking she had been doing, it made sense it led to this.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Y/N bashfully looks away from him. She can’t believe she embarrassed herself in front of him like this. 

“No apologies,” he brushes her off and doesn’t ask her any questions, only to ensure she is okay. 

They rejoin the group after ten minutes by the looks of everyone's sympathetic smiles. She knows they saw her freak out, but they’re her friends. She knows she’s in safe hands with everyone, especially Harry.

“What’s the next maze?” Y/N asks cheerfully. 

And so they continue on. 

The next maze is much smoother than the first. Carmy leads, tucking Harry and Y/N in the middle with Tatum and Estella in the back. That order seems to comfort Y/N for the next few mazes. Each worker makes her scream but then falls into giggles when Harry traces comforting shapes on her hand. It takes her mind off these scarers trying to get her to scream and instead focus on the gentle touches of her crush. 

While doing the mazes is fun, Y/N is soaking up talking to Harry in line. They’re in a new environment where they do not need to discuss work. She feels free to ask him anything, but sometimes she is unsure where to start. Y/N doesn’t know if she wants to hear about his weekend plans or ask him about his favorite movie or who his favorite Muppet character is? 

Talking to Maeve and everyone else is easy because she’s gone out with them. She knows them personally, but with Harry, he always kept that guard up, and now she’s unsure what to do if he decides to keep it up. 

To her surprise, Harry always starts the conversation with her. Harry shares about a new show he started watching and how it makes him anxious for the main character when they do something out of character. When he asks Y/N if there is a show she recommends, her mind goes blank, and the first thing that comes to mind is “Fleabag.” 

“It’s the saddest but most comforting show I have ever seen,” Y/N gushes. 

“With Phoebe Waller-Bridge?” 

“Mhmm…the second season has Andrew Scott. Irish treasure.” 

“Paul Mescal,” he adds. 

“Hozier.” 

“Saoirse Ronan,” they say in unison before falling into fits of giggles. 

“You’ve got taste, Styles.” 

“As do you.” 

The line moves, and they change conversations to talk about the best musicals they’ve seen. Y/N swears “Waitress” is the best thing created, but Harry tells her “Moulin Rouge” is his favorite. Y/N loves how easily the conversation with Harry seems to flow. He feels like a long-lost friend. Someone who once was in her life has now found his way back to her. 

Not only is he getting along with her, but everyone is getting to see the Harry she had come to know. The one who makes cheesy jokes and loves to hear every detail of the story being told. It turns out he and Maeve frequent the same record store. There’s a Stevie Nicks vinyl Harry is on the hunt for, and Maeve promised to keep an eye out for him. Tatum learns Harry can play guitar and asks him to show them sometime. Something he agreed to with pink cheeks. Y/N knew tonight was a big step for Harry, and she was glad everyone made him feel comfortable.

As the night was coming to an end, the maze lines got shorter, and the more Y/N screamed. It made her laugh right after, but still not her favorite part of the night. Before the cold can settle in, they all call it a midnight night. Tatum and Estella head out hand in hand. Y/N can’t wait for the details of that on Monday. Carmy is telling Harry a story, so Maeve uses the opportunity to remind Y/N to make a move.

“It’s now or never, girlfriend.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please don’t pressure me on this.” 

“Y/N that man is, head over heels for you. If I was antisocial this is not an event I would ever do. Unless someone I fancied asked.” 

Y/N toes her food in the sand and, in a low voice, asks, “do you really think he likes me?” 

Maeve smiles, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her eyes. “That man lit up every time your eyes were on him. I don’t know Harry as well as you do, but I can notice a guy with a crush from miles away. Trust me on this.” 

Y/N backs down, relaxing, “okay.” 

“Good. Now text me when you get home. Carmy’s got me.” Maeve gives her a tight hug and then pulls Carmy away from Harry. 

He walks over to her with a shy smile on his face. “Have a good time?” 

“The best,” she tells him. “Though I might need another apple cider. Think my heart needs it.”

“By all means, lead the way.” 

After getting one last warm apple cider, they reach Harry’s car. It’s an electric car because he’s conscious of his environmental impact and knows one person can go a long way into the future. Harry opens Y/N’s car door and waits until he sees her seated and buckled to close her door. As he gets ready to drive off, he turns on the heater, knowing if he’s cold, Y/N must be too. 

The car ride starts off quietly, Y/N guiding him every so often when to make a turn. Y/N sees her favorite coffee shop and knows she is almost home. “That was fun,” Harry starts. “I’m happy I went.” 

“Mhmm…it was a good time. Glad you joined us,” she tells him honestly. 

Harry notices at a red light that she’s fidgeting with her hands and thinks he might still be cold. “Do you need me to turn up the heater?” 

Y/N shakes her head, “no, sorry, I’m fine.” 

Harry drives down a few more streets when Y/N tells him to turn left. “It’s the third one on the right.” 

He parks right outside her driveway. From here, he can see her decorations hung up. It’s decorated charmingly. It’s clear no scaring would happen here. She’s got two pumpkins outside her door. One has stars carved all around; the other is a cat on a witch’s broom. Bat lights are hanging up the railing of the steps. She even has a few inflatables. His favorite has to be the one of Mickey Mouse as a vampire.

“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciated it.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Harry gets out of the car and opens her door. 

“Let me walk you up.” 

Y/N feels her cheeks burn and leads the way. 

“We’re planning trivia soon,” Y/N says, testing the waters. 

“Hmm…only if you’re on my team.” 

“We would all be on the same team,” his flirting going over her head.

Harry’s face turns pink, “uh, right.” 

She laughs, placing her hand on his bicep. “Only joking.”

Y/N pulls him in, whispering good night, except when she pulls away, she locks eyes with his emerald eyes, and it’s like she’s in a trance. She feels herself leaning in closer, and before she knows it, Y/N presses her lips to Harry in an airy kiss.

She pulls back, shocked. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “I-I should have asked.” 

“Ask me,” he pleads. 

“What?” Y/N isn’t sure if she heard him correctly. 

Harry doesn’t care anymore. He raises his hand to rest on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” 

She feels how close he is. She can feel his breath mixing with hers. “Yes.” 

When their lips meet, Y/N swears she feels time stop. Harry is starting slow as he begins to learn what she likes.  Y/N places a hand on his chest, needing to have a secure hold as she feels him take her breath away. Her emotions are all over the place. His lips are smooth as they move against hers in a dance that feels like they’ve done a hundred times before. Harry deepens the kiss, pushing her up against the door, making Y/N grab a fistful of his shirt, not wanting him to pull away. Y/N lets herself get wrapped up in all her feelings because she knows that a kiss this special means it won’t be her only one, and she finally allows all her feelings to pour into the kiss. 

Y/N isn’t sure how long they spent kissing outside her door. It seems she’s lost track of time since she got a taste of Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she mutters against his lips when she feels him begin to pull away.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he promises. 

“Too far.

Harry laughs, “you can call me tomorrow when you wake up.” Knowing she likes to sleep in, he would rather not wake her up. 

“Okay,” she whispers in defeat. 

“Good night,” Harry takes a step back. 

Y/N bites her lip and gives him a wave. “Do you want a kiss goodbye?” 

Harry can’t say no.

+

Monday morning, Y/N walks in with a large smile. It makes everyone stop and stare. She makes her rounds, wishing everyone a good morning, and saves Harry for last. 

“Hi, Harry.” She chirps. 

“Morning,” he answers timidly. 

Y/N pouts because he didn’t even look at her. She wanted to see his beautiful eyes. “So I was thinking…” she trails off. 

Harry turns, giving her his undivided attention, and Y/N’s smile widens. “How does a date sound to you?”

“A date?” He echoes. 

“With me,” she giggles.

“Best thing I've heard all day.”

Y/N claps her hands together, “wonderful.” 

“How does this weekend sound?” 

“Too far,” she teases. “Saturday?” 

“I’ll pick you up,” he promises. 

“Good. Good.” Y/N lingers by his door. 

“Yes, love?” 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but doesn’t look away from him. “Are we still on for lunch?” 

Harry gives her a dimpled grin, “I’ve got a new book for us to discuss.” 

"You ready to go?" Harry asked, sliding his hand over Y/n's and unfurling her fist.

Her face was set in a scowl as she looked over at the boys she'd been speaking to. For the most part they got along great, Niall specifically. They had a sibling-like relationship and often teased one another, but Niall must've said something about figure skating, and that was one thing that would make you public enemy number one in Y/n's eyes. And if she was already grumpy? Harry met his friend's gaze and tried to send a clear message with his eyes: Cut it out.

Because Y/n could throw a punch, and while she was significantly smaller than his teammates, she had a mean right hook.

Y/n gave Harry a nonverbal grunt that she was ready to leave the rink. But she did lean into the tiny kiss he placed on her cheek, which was something.

"Yeah, Harry, take your girl home. I think she's on her period or something."

"Excuse me?"

"Okay, time to go," Harry said quickly, pulling Y/n away from his teammates and sending one final look at Niall.

As they walked to the car, Y/n handed her keys to Harry unceremoniously and slipped her hand out of his to cross her arms over her chest. He could practically see the steam coming out of her ears, so he let her stew in her bad mood for a little while. She must've had a rough training session, which could mean she messed up a lot or hardly at all, but Y/n was an extremely tough critic, so it was hard to be sure of which one if he wasn't there to watch.

Y/n's arms stayed crossed as they drove back to his apartment. Harry was fine with it, knowing the grumpiness wouldn't last. It normally didn't with Harry, a fact that he was extremely proud of. Except when he rested his hand on her thigh—close to her knee, he wasn't trying to start anything—she shook it off and shifted so her body faced the window.

"What was that for?"

"For being friends with neanderthals," she muttered. "Especially that one."

"'That one' is your friend, bub," Harry said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. "And wait—does that make me a neanderthal?"

"He was out of line. And no," she said, still facing the window, the last part almost an afterthought.

"I'll make sure he apologizes," he promised.

Harry leaned over at a stop light to kiss Y/n's temple. She didn't shrug him off or push him away, which was a good sign, though Harry now had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on. He didn't say anything the rest of the drive, happy to let his girlfriend be grumpy for the rest of the drive. As long as it wasn't directed at him, he was fine.

When they arrived, Harry shouldered both of their bags and handed her the keys to his apartment. "Go ahead and get in the shower. I'll meet you in there in a few minutes."

At that, he could practically see Y/n's grumpy facade start to crumble, but she nodded wordlessly and trudged up the stairs. Harry followed suit, setting their bags down and rustling through his small kitchen, trying to remember where he kept the emergency stash of her favorite snacks.

He realized that it was probably Y/n's time of the month. She became particularly moody around then, and it only took a couple minutes for Harry to put the pieces together. Should Niall have said anything? No, but the fact that he was right probably pissed Y/n off even more.

Harry grabbed a few things before heading down the hallway, the sound of water running growing louder as he got closer to the bathroom. He headed to his room first, setting Y/n's snacks and a couple other things down before kicking off his shoes and leaving to join Y/n like he promised.

"Need some help?"

Y/n was just standing beneath the spray coming from the shower head, not washing her hair or her face, the first steps in a detailed routine. She shrugged as he stepped into the shower, his hands smoothing over her shoulders before kissing the top of one gently.

"What's hurting?" he asked, continuing to snake his arms around her to hold her close.

"My boobs, my back, my ego, and I have the worst cramps," she huffed, but Harry detected the slight shift in her voice. Now that they were alone, she was trying not to cry. "He should try playing his precious sport while his uterine lining is shedding."

"I know," Harry said, reaching for the shampoo she used and squirting some in his hand. "Scalp only, right?"

Y/n nodded, some of the tension leaving her body when he started massaging the shampoo into her scalp. He worked slowly, trying to let the day wash off of her, murmuring to her and kissing parts of her body occasionally. When the actual bathing part of the shower was over, Harry turned Y/n around to face him, his kisses becoming more drawn out, sensual. His hands were soft, but firm, trying to knead away the soreness in her breasts and back.

Y/n sighed, eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into his touch. Both of them could feel him growing hard, it was hard not to give the circumstances, but neither of them said anything about it. Harry wasn't really focused on himself at the moment.

"Want me to use the shower head?" he asked.

Y/n shook her head. "I want you."

"Yeah?"

Peeking one eye open, she said, "Don't be so smug about it."

Harry chuckled softly and reached a hand up to hold one side of her face. "Me? Never."

For the first time all afternoon, Y/n grinned, but it quickly turned into a frown. "We can't."

"Baby, we're in the shower."

"Still, I think it's gross." But even as she said it, she moaned when he began to kiss her again.

They had this debate every time Y/n was on her period, but Harry always managed to find some way around it. For her sake, not his. He knew they both wanted to, but Y/n never believed him when he insisted he didn't mind if she was on her period. His solution was usually the detachable showerhead, but she didn't seem to want that this time.

"Here," Harry said, an idea sparking. He sat down, the tiles cold against his skin as he brought Y/n down with him. She didn't follow though, staying standing, her arms crossed over her body. "Would you get down here? I promise I won't even look. See?"

Harry covered his eyes with one hand, then raised them to show that his eyes were closed underneath.

"You promise you won't look?"

"Won't even watch you come, which is arguably my favorite part," Harry said, only half teasing.

He kept his promise to keep his eyes closed, so he couldn't tell if or when Y/n decided, though when he felt her settle over his lap, he had a pretty good idea. She draped herself over him, tucking herself close to him when he was fully settled inside her. Harry couldn't tell if she just wanted to sit like this or if she wanted more, but all he got was a contented sigh in his ear, which didn't really help.

"Okay, you can go now," Y/n said after a few minutes had passed, voice soft and a little slow as if she'd just woken up from a long nap.

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. "I have to keep my eyes closed and do all the work?"

Y/n only nodded, not moving from where she was tightly hugging him. Harry was amused, but not all that surprised. She despised the term, but Y/n was without a doubt the textbook definition of a pillow princess. She had a pretty tough exterior, but once they were alone, she melted, becoming more needy and letting Harry take control. She liked being praised for taking all of him and behaving for him. His good girl, Harry once called her, and after she lit up from it, he called her that anytime they were intimate. He thrived off of it, Y/n's eagerness to please and the way she let him have his way with her.

Harry maneuvered himself a little, earning a few gasps and whimpers from Y/n. When he finally found a good enough position to hold her while not slipping on the slick tiles, he nudged the side of her cheek with his nose.

"I need at least a kiss first." He was keeping his word, so his eyes were still shut, but when Y/n slotted her lips over his and gripped the wet curls that were pressed to the nape of his neck, he grinned, focusing on the sensation of her kiss. With his eyes closed, Harry felt everything. Every shift of her hips, every clench she made around him, it was almost torturous, but he held off driving into her until he thought she was ready. "Thank you, bub. Be as loud as you want, okay?"

That only made her squeeze him tighter, and Harry took that as his signal to get started. It was slow as he tried to find the right rhythm, listening closely to how Y/n was reacting. Usually he was able to tell by the little faces she made, but he went off her sounds and how hard she squeezed her arms around his neck.

Harry murmured in Y/n's ear the whole time, letting her know how good she felt around him and to touch herself however she wanted. By the end of it, she was all molten limbs and tired, satisfied eyes, kissing all over his face as he smoothed back her hair. Harry gave her a couple minutes to come back down from her high before he helped her stand back up and let her get dressed while he showered properly.

Later that night, Y/n was sleeping in Harry's bed, a heating pad strapped to her back while she stayed tucked into his chest. They'd watched a couple movies and eaten her favorite snacks, and at one point Y/n crawled into his lap to ride his thigh when she claimed she needed another orgasm. Harry was happy to give her one, happy to let her use him how she liked, though he had to help her hips along after a couple minutes.

All the grumpiness from earlier was gone. She had nothing but kind words and sweet nothings and little jokes she mumbled to him as they continued watching a show they started together, which was when she promptly fell asleep. Harry was right behind her, he just had to send a text first.

Y/n's ballet training is at 8am on Wednesday. Be there.

Harry had promised Y/n Niall would apologize, and he couldn't think of a better way than his friend struggling to plié. He didn't need to add or else or any other kind of threat. It was unnecessary. Niall had pissed off Y/n, and he knew Harry would make him pay if he didn't make it right.

After sending the text he set his phone down and settled deeper into the pillows. Y/n shuffled around a little, then murmured, "Little spoon."

Still, the apartment is quiet. Not even a rustle or cough to guide you. 

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand to a point, bristling with unease as you make your way to the kitchen. “Har?”

However, the small space is empty. Nothing but a bowl of freshly popped popcorn to greet you. It sits on the counter almost mockingly, offering you no insight as to where Harry might have disappeared to.

You begin to frown, now whirling around in search of clues. “Harry, this isn’t funny anymore. Okay, I’m cold, and I want you to come back to bed.”

Nothing.

And then…a door creaks. A shrill, sharp sound that makes you flinch as you turn toward the offending noise with a glare.

But all you find is a collection of coats hanging inside the small closet by the front door. 

You huff. “Harry, seriously. You got me, all right? I’m scared.”

Suddenly, you feel a large presence looming just behind you. Brushing up against your back as you gasp and spin on your heel.

You come face to face with a large, white mask. The eyes and mouth cut out in an exaggerated drip, as if mimicking a panicked scream.

And you’d be tempted to scream yourself if it weren’t for the familiar, woodsy notes of a cologne you’d recognize anywhere. 

“Tell me, mama…” comes a graveled, husky voice, “…do you like scary movies?”

 Playing along, you gasp quietly and begin to back away. Staring at the tall, masked man with terror until you suddenly hit something else hard and firm. Stopping you directly where you stand. 

It’s another chest, somehow just as sturdy and unrelenting as the first. This stranger is masked as well, the panicked expression almost condescending as it leers down at you. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Smirking, you offer them both a playful glare. “Okay, all right. Very funny, you two.”

For a moment, the two hooded figures merely stare at you before the first one rips off the mask, revealing that comforting head of curly, brown hair beneath.

“Come on, sugar…we wanna hear you scream,” Harry purrs, grinning deviously as Asher removes his hood as well.

“You wanna play psycho killer?” the man beside you hums, but he’s smiling as well, making you laugh.

“God, you guys are so annoying,” you huff, teasingly shoving at Asher with your elbow. “Where the hell did you get these stupid outfits, anyway?”

Harry’s fingers outstretch for your stomach, tugging on your shirt until you’re wrangled into his arms, face squished against his neck. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispers mischievously, nuzzling his nose along your forehead until you squeal. “That’s the fun of Halloween.”

You snort. “Sure. Who were you even supposed to be, anyway?”

He begins to lean back, eyes wide and expression shocked while you blink innocently.

“Ghostface,” Asher says, stepping closer. “From Scream?”

Glancing over the masks in their hands, you shrug. “Never saw it. Wasn’t really into horror movies growing up.”

“Aww, were you scared, sweet girl?” Harry murmurs, ghosting his lips along the shell of your ear. “Scared the big, bad, bogeyman was gonna get you?”

“Well, he kind of did,” you tease, glancing over your shoulder while he grins.

“If you wanna stab him, I won’t blame you,” Asher calls, tossing his mask toward the sofa. “I’ll even hand you the knife.”

You and Harry both laugh as Harry tightens his holds on your waist and tugs you back against his chest, chin tucked just over your shoulder. “Maybe that’s what we should do tonight, hm? Stay in, bake some cookies…maybe do a little screaming of our own?”

You smile through a scoff. “Sounds romantic.”

“It could be,” he coos, mouth reattaching to your neck as Asher grins. “Could get all cuddled on the couch…keep you warm on my lap…hold you when you get scared.”

And the idea is tantalizing, made even more enticing by the sound of his voice. “Guess that does sound nice.”

“Yeah? Promise I won’t let anything hurt you,” he breathes, the soft trickle of his exhale sending shivers down your spine. “Won’t let anything scare you. Keep you safe in my arms. Always.”

“Always,” you repeat in a soft sigh, heading rolling back against his shoulder. Succumbing to his seduction. 

You feel his large hand crawl up from your hip until it can rest over your chest. Cupping your tit firmly in his strong palm before kneading it tenderly. “Is that what you want, mama? Wanna stay here with me?”

You hum weakly, eyes glazing over as you look toward the second-in-command watching you by the kitchen.

Asher smiles softly, nodding once as it to reassure you. 

And you do feel reassured. So endlessly content to be in their care. To be loved on by the most wonderful man in the world. Bogeyman or not.

Then, Asher clears his throat. “All right, troublemakers. You two have fun,” he says while heading for the door. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, yeah?”

 Confused, and slightly disappointed, you straighten up, watching as he walks down the hall. “Where…where are you going? You aren’t staying?”

He shakes his head. “The boss gave me the night off,” he tells you, tossing a smirk toward Harry. “And I figured you two could use an evening alone.” 

It’s a thoughtful gesture. One you aren’t quite sure how to feel about. After all, you’re rather used to him. His face, his voice, his comforting nature. You imagine you’ll be worried about him while he’s gone, even if he’s more than all right.

“Okay,” you finally answer, smiling gently to show him you understand. “But you are coming back, right?”

He grins. “Don’t I always?”

With that, he grabs his keys, throws you both a wink, and disappears from the apartment. 

Leaving you and Harry alone at last.

You turn around giddily and snake your arms around his neck. “All right, Mr. Bogeyman. What should we do first?”

He pretends to mull this over. “Hm…think I might have an idea.”

Suddenly, he’s bending down, grabbing onto your legs, and hoisting you over his shoulder. 

You squeal in confusion as he traps you in his hold and carries you to the sofa. Ignoring your playful swats to the back of his head until he can drop you down onto the soft cushions and chase after you.

He slots his body between your thighs, settling his hands beside your head as he gazes down at you. And there’s something fierce and animalistic in his eyes. Reverent, almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. 

“Har,” you gasp between breathless chuckles, “what the hell are you doing?”

He hums quietly before dipping down to brush his nose with yours. His soft, brown curls sweeping across your forehead. “I missed you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, fighting a coy grin. “How could you miss me? I didn’t go anywhere.”

He’s quiet as he reaches for your mouth, allowing his thumb to sweep across your pouted lips tentatively. “Don’t care,” he whispers. “Still missed you. Missed all of you.”

“Yeah?” Your voice betrays you. Quiet and wavering with a rush of adoration you can’t seem to tame.

“Mhm. Wanna make up for it.”

“Is that so?” You arch from the couch until your chest can knock against his. Subtly pleading with him to touch you. “How?”

He allows his finger to slip between your lips. Fitting in your mouth almost perfectly as you circle your tongue around the warm digit and hum gratefully. “You tell me.”

You take a moment to think, sucking on his thumb with fervor while he watches you with an intent focus. Seemingly enthralled by every inch of you, especially the way you become so submissive to his taste.

“Kind of like what you said earlier,” you admit quietly. “Think it’d be fun to have a movie night with you.”

“Yeah?” He begins to smile. “Thought you didn’t like scary movies.”

You shrug. “No. But I like you.”

His expression softens as he slides his finger from your mouth.

“Besides, we never get to play house,” you point out. “Might be fun, just this once. Do some baking, snuggle up on the couch. Stay in like an old married couple.”

“Yeah,” he repeats, a bit fainter this time before he sighs. “You know I’d marry you in a heartbeat, mama. Give you everything you ever wanted. The white picket fence and the little house in the suburbs. Work a 9 to 5 and have tons of babies and debt.”

You laugh, knees squeezing his hips. “I know, but you know I don’t want that. Not right now. I’m happy with how things are.”

“Really?” He doesn’t sound convinced. “You’re really okay with a life of being moved, and taken, and hidden, and threatened?”

You glance over his face, reaching up to brush at the dark hairs of his brows. “I am okay with any life…as long as I get to live it with you.”

He releases a strained breath, surging forward until he can rest his forehead against yours. “Oh, sweet girl. Always, always, always.”

And you know he means it.

You kiss him. Press your hands to his cheeks and kiss him so hard, you both feel dizzy. 

You’d stay here forever, you decide. Right here, just kissing him. Give up everything; eating, breathing, sleeping…just to remain in his arms.

His heartbeat against yours.

“All right,” he finally murmurs, releasing you in an effort to return the air to your lungs. “Let’s make those cookies, hm?”

He wrestles you up and chases you to the kitchen. Retrieving the ingredients while you get the oven ready and prep your space.

You’re a good team. Even when baking, and you feel an abundance of adoration for the man handing you balls of dough. 

You laugh as he flicks some flour at your cheek, and he smirks when you whip him with the edge of your hand towel. 

Once the cookies have been pulled from the oven and placed onto the counter to cool, Harry takes your hand, and leads you toward the bedroom. 

He pulls you down onto the bed and helps you get situated under the covers before flipping on the television. Scrolling through the horror section until he can find the one he’s looking for.

With a coy smile, he glances over. “Are you sure?”

“S’just a movie,” you say. “How bad can it be?”

He grins a bit wider and hits, “Play.”

A phone rings before the camera pans to a young Drew Barrymore. She sports a young, blonde bob and white sweater, and her voice is as bright as a ray of sunshine.

Harry is instantly enthralled, staring at the screen with wide, entertained eyes as his dimple pops free.

He mouths along with the dialogue as though he’s seen the movie at least a hundred times. And soon, you find yourself watching him more than the screen. The way he lights up with certain jump scares, or scoffs when a particular character is on screen.

It’s rare he gets this excited. In fact, the only thing he tends to show this much passion about…is you.

And he’s so happy right now. So relaxed and carefree. Content to be in this bed with you, his arm around your shoulder as you rest your head on his chest. Humming at the way you trail your fingers along the dips in his ribs.

Before you know it, you’re crawling over his thighs, and settling on his lap. Hands around the back of his neck, lips against his. Moving with a synchronicity that can’t be taught. Only felt. 

The movie is long forgotten as his tongue laces with yours, fingers digging into your hips to trap you against him. Groaning softly at the way you nip his bottom lip and move your kisses down his neck.

“Sugar,” he exhales, lashes fluttering shut as he quickly puts the film on pause. “What are you doing, hm?”

“What does it look like?”

He smirks and tightens his grip. “Thought you wanted to watch the movie.”

“And now I’d rather watch you.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

He brings a hand to your hair, brushing the strands behind your ear before cupping your cheek. “And what would you like to watch, mama?”

You can think of a plethora of dirty responses. Ones that would surely make his jaw clench before he gave you everything you ever asked for. 

Instead, you find yourself struck with another idea. 

Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, grazing his soft, warm stomach that quivers beneath your touch. “Might have had an idea.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, kissing across the curve of his shoulder while your palms meet his chest. You linger over his pecs before squeezing them, brushing your thumbs over his nipples.

He sucks in a quiet breath, and you feel his eyes staring straight through you.

“Want you…to go back…and put on that mask,” you whisper, dragging your lips up toward his ear. “And then…I want you…to fuck me.”

His breath hitches. “Really?”

Another nod. “S’not so scary when it’s you. It’s even kind of…sexy.”

His hand returns to your hair, squeezing the back of your neck gently. “Sugar, are you sure? I don’t ever want you to associate pleasure with genuine fear. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

You lean back to catch his eye, smiling softly. “I’m sure. That’s the whole point. When I know it’s you, and I know I’m safe…it’s so much hotter.”

He studies you closely, almost as though unconvinced. “We’ll still use our system, yes? Yellow to slow down, red to stop.”

“Yes,” you agree, wiggling a bit over his lap to feel the way he hardens beneath his jeans. “Please, Har?”

His pupils grow hazy with lust – blown out and wildly addicted. But he hesitates, nonetheless. “Need you to promise me, mama. Need to know you’re gonna communicate with me the whole time.”

“I will,” you repeat eagerly. “I will, I promise. Just…just go put it on. Please?”

A moment passes as he sighs and caresses your face once more. Almost as though wanting one last bit of tenderness. “All right, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pulling you down to kiss you. “Anything you want.”

You giggle against his lips.

With a pat to your thigh, he clears his throat and nods his chin at you. “I’ll go grab it and put it on. But when I come back to this room, I want you in nothing but your panties, and sitting on the edge of the bed. Is that understood?”

You feel your body ache with a need that can’t be tamed, stomach folding in on itself as you nod and scramble off his lap. “Yes, Daddy.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he stands, and makes his way for the other room. Leaving you to obey his request.

You tug your shirt up and over your head before discarding it somewhere on the floor. Your sweatpants are next, flicked from your ankles toward the chair in the corner before you brush your hair back, and take a deep breath.

You can feel the way your thighs clench together. The damp spot already growing beneath the cotton fabric of your underwear as you crawl toward the end of the bed. Waiting almost anxiously for him to return.

You appreciate that he doesn’t judge you for your strange request. And you absolutely love him for being willing to play along. Even if it means you won’t get to see his pretty face.

You hear his footsteps echoing between the hall as he approaches. Making your heart leap into your throat before a dark shadow slips into the room.

The mask is familiar to you now. The white, ghostly expression surrounded by the black hood. You can’t see anything behind the eyes. Can’t even see his pretty, pink lips. But you know it’s him. Can tell just from the way his body moves.

You straighten up, hands in your lap as the masked man seems to study you.

His head cocks before you hear a recognizable hum. “Obeyed me very well, darling, didn’t you?”

You nod fervently and tug your lip between your teeth. “Yes, Mr. Ghostface. Always.”

You hear him chuckle, perhaps amused with the nickname. And when he doesn’t correct you or scold you, you assume he likes it. “Is this what you wanted, mama? Wanted me to fuck you…just like this?”

He’s moving closer. A slow stride as if stalking prey, and your insides feel fuzzy as you swallow. “Yes.”

Another hum before he comes to a stop just in front of you, glancing down while a gloved hand reaches out to brush along your jaw. “My sweet girl. You’re trembling. S’that how bad you need it?”

He’s right. You can hardly get a coherent response out as you push yourself into his touch, silently begging for more.

He releases your face and lets his leather-covered fingertips find your nipple. He tweaks it – hard. Enough to elicit a gasp and have you arching up into his palm.

The mask leers down. Offering you no other inclination as to how he’s feeling besides the obvious condescension you can hear in his voice.

“Promised to take care of you,” he murmurs, groping at your chest a moment more before releasing you. “So that’s what I’m gonna do. Take my cock out.”

To accompany his instruction, he nods down toward his hips. Encouraging your hands to travel toward his dark jeans as you begin to pry them open.

You’re nearly drooling as you slip your delicate hands into his briefs to pull him free. Instantly whimpering deep from the back of your throat as you scoot closer and slide your palm up toward his leaking tip.

You hear a subtle hiss from behind the ghostly face before he’s stepping closer. Pushing himself into you.

Then, he nods once. “Go ahead, mama.”

Without needing further instruction, you surge forward, and drag your tongue along the underside of him. Tastebuds coated with a familiar taste that reminds you of certain safety and lust. 

You use the tricks you know he enjoys the most. Licking at the dark veins before moving up and forming your lips around him. Sucking just enough to tease him before trailing your mouth down the length. Making his hands flex beside him.

Then, one of those hands travels to your head. Sprawling out across the back to keep you close and offer you a bit of comfort and encouragement. Not hard enough to hurt you or take away your freedom, but enough to excite you. Make you eager for his approval.

You take him into your mouth. Simpering at the way he groans and slightly twitches against your tongue. 

His gloved fingers disappear into your roots. And they tug to remind you of his appreciation as you swallow around him. Allowing him to hit the back of your throat before you draw back.

“Shit,” comes his gravely reply. Making a dark wave roll straight toward your cunt. “That’s it. S’fucking perfect, sugar.”

The praise spurs you on. Makes your head spin and your legs squeeze together. You need it – need more of it, need all of it. You need to make him proud, make him cum. Make him lose his goddamn mind because of the way you treat his body.

You go faster, suck harder. Bob your head just enough to make his entire body tense with an immeasurable type of pleasure. One that makes him moan your name before bucking himself into your mouth.

You can’t help but gag when he reaches the back, and he’s quick to pull back. Providing you a moment to breathe.

“Sorry, mama,” he hisses, moving to swipe his thumb across your lips. Collecting the bit of drool that drips from your mouth onto his glove. “M’sorry. I’ll be more gentle, I promise.”

But you shake your head. “No, I…I like it. Like that you feel good.”

And you can’t see it, but you imagine he’s smiling. “Is that right, dirty girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He seems to groan to himself before he guides his cock back to your tongue. “Then make me feel good, darling.”

You do. Give him everything you have. Hollow your cheeks around his rather large cock and suck until you both see stars. You take as much of him as you can, almost until your nose reaches his stomach. But you can’t quite fit him all the way, and he seems amused by your efforts.

“It’s all right, mama,” he calls, squeezing your neck once. “Know it’s a lot. Already being so good for me. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

You frown, settling for keeping your focus on his tip and letting your palms brush at his balls.

When he notices your pout, he tugs on you again. “What did I say? Need you to talk to me or we stop.”

You pop off long enough to answer, “I’m okay, Mr. Ghostface. Just wish I could do more.”

But you hear a sigh before he steps closer and guides your chin up. “Believe me, sweet girl, you do more than enough. M’already close and I’m nowhere near through with you yet.”

You smile at this. “No?”

The masked face shakes. “No. You wanted me to fuck you, darling, and that’s what I plan to do.”

You drop your hands to your thighs, nails curling into the skin as if to brace yourself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He begins to squeeze your jaw. “So why don’t you crawl back for me. And spread your legs, let me see.”

Within an instant, you’re moving toward the pillows. Settling down onto the blankets as your thighs slowly pull apart to reveal your covered cunt.

And in this moment, you wish you could see his face. The blissful expression he always seems to wear when he gets a good look at you. He loves the way you drip for him. The way your little clit gets swollen with need as your legs shake and your stomach quivers.

And he also happens to love this particular pair of panties. The tiny, pink ribbon that sits on the front. The way it taunts him and calls to him. The way it’s almost innocent in nature despite what lies beneath.

The masked man begins to follow after you. Hands and knees burying deep in the duvet as his head cocks and his attention seems to fall to your cunt.

“Pretty,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. His hand outstretches, thumb finding the ribbon before he begins to drag it down. Pressing hard into your pussy to feel the dips and warmth leading toward your hole. “Oh, sugar. Did I get you all worked up?”

You nod weakly as you watch his finger land over the obvious wet spot along the fabric. Whimpering gently at the faux sympathy in his voice.

“Must hurt, hm?” he coos, beginning to circle the area with a bit more determination. “To be so untouched? So desperate?”

You nod quicker this time, making a louder, more pitiful noise. “Please, Daddy. Need you to make it better.”

A sadistic chuckle slips beneath the mask before he’s reaching for the lacy waistband. “All right. Gonna make it better.”

He slips the material down your legs and tosses them into the room behind him. Discarding them quickly before laying his palms against your thighs and pressing them into the bed. Keeping them open and spread exactly the way he likes. 

The dark leather around his large hands makes you swallow. You quite like the feel and the sight of it. Knowing that it’s Harry behind the dark façade. And knowing exactly how much he loves you.

“Please, Mr. Ghostface,” you beg quietly – sweetly. “Need you to fuck me.”

His touch constricts, digging into the soft skin of your legs before he’s reaching for his cock. “I will, sugar. Gonna make you scream.”

He scoots forward, guiding the crown toward the weeping hole between your thighs. Prodding at it once, then twice to coat the tip and make sure you’re ready.

But you’ve become a mess of whines and pathetic gasps. His name and a string of pleas that follow before he smacks his hand down your leg to silence you.

“Patience,” he scolds, rubbing the glove over the mark he left. “Daddy’s gonna do it on his own time, understood?”

You pout again but nod. Accepting his condition as you reach for your chest to squeeze your tits in your hands. 

And even without being able to see his eyes, you know he’s watching. Enthralled and mesmerized by the way you arch into your own touch and moan softly.

You pinch your nipples before groping at the flesh a time or two more. Lashes fluttering shut in blissful ecstasy while the space between your legs grows wetter.

You hear him curse before he begins to push in. Recapturing your attention and claiming your pleasure as his own.

And it’s at this moment that you wish you hadn’t asked him to put on that stupid mask. Because you want to kiss him, more than anything. Want to see his face, see his beautiful lips as he drops them open with a low groan. Want to nip at his jaw and leave marks down his neck. Want to tangle your fingers in his curls and tug until he whimpers your name.

Instead, you stare at the face of a ghost above you. Which isn’t so bad. After all, it’s still wildly arousing as he sinks into your cunt with a practiced precision.

Instantly, you toss your legs around his hips and hook your ankles near his ass. Pulling him in deeper while he sucks in a sharp breath and bottoms out.

You hold onto each other for only a moment. The cold face of the mask brushing against your cheek as you shiver and subsequently clench around him.

“Sugar,” he warns, but it’s mixed with a lewd moan. “M’not gonna last long if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry,” you gasp, although you’re anything but. “Just feel really good.”

You feel a hand on your ribcage, squeezing as though to show some sort of affection. “Good,” he murmurs before pulling back and pushing back in. “Cause it’s all for you, mama.”

You arch from the bed as he begins fucking into you, hard and slow. Hitting spots inside you that are so deep, you think you feel your stomach flip. It’s incredible the way he uses your body. The way he knows it, works it. Works himself into it. Plunging himself inside your pussy until the sounds of your arousal echo between your ears.

You glance down to watch, loving the way you can see your drip on his cock, the way it coats your thighs, coats the blanket beneath. Glistening in the soft light of the room and from the TV in the corner. 

He’s grunting from the force, slamming his hips into yours while you gasp out his name. 

Leather-clad fingers land on your chest. Effortlessly brushing your own hands out of the way as he takes you in his palm and harshly gropes at your sensitive breast.

It looks pretty in the glove. Dangerous, in fact. The slight sting makes your eyes roll back and your body shudders with pleasure while Harry begins to pick up the pace. Fucking into you quicker as he begins to chase his release.

Suddenly, he’s tugging on one of your legs to return it to the bed. Once again pressing it hard into the mattress at an open, spread angle to find that position he wants.

You whine as you’re manhandled, bucking up from the rush of euphoria when he finds a particularly pleasurable spot. 

“Oh, sweet girl,” he exhales, drawing back almost all the way before sinking in to the hilt. “S’a lot, yeah?”

Your head moves up and down wordlessly.

“I know,” he hums, rhythm beginning to get sloppy. Uncoordinated and rushed, like he’s nearing his release. “Shit, I know, mama. M’gonna cum…and then m’gonna make you cum. All fucking night—”

You cry out at another wave of something sweet before he’s grunting in your ear and twitching inside your soft walls. “Har…Harry, please—”

“I know,” he repeats, gritting the words between clenched teeth. “I know, I’ve got you. Always got you—”

“Please, please, please—”

“M’right here. You’re okay. Won’t stop. Never gonna stop—”

“Daddy—”

“Fuck, yes. S’a good girl, keep still. Just like that—”

He cums. Suddenly and almost without much warning, and it’s strangely addictive. Spilling inside of you until you squirm almost violently at the sensation. Chasing after the need as he empties himself into you before pulling back.

You’re surprised by the abrupt shift, wondering almost sadly why he’s leaving you so quickly when he’s just barely finished.

But the answer soon comes in the form of his hand reaching up toward the mask to rip it from his face. Revealing his flushed cheeks and blown-out pupils as he tosses it aside and surges forward.

His mouth attaches to your pussy before you can even speak. Sucking and licking and drenching his chin in both of your juices. 

It’s smeared across his mouth and nose and cheek like a painting. Making such a beautiful face even that much more alluring.

“Har,” you whimper, reaching for the curls now at your disposal. They’re slightly warm and sweaty from being covered, but it feels good. Almost erotic, and you pull until he moans against your cunt. “Fucking missed you—”

“Yeah?” His grin is devilish as he glances up just long enough to meet your eye. “Good.”

He nips at your clit before swirling his tongue around it and sucking it into his mouth. He presses and pulls until your head rolls back and your focus finds the ceiling. Your thighs burn from the way you thrash, and your toes are curling deep into the covers. 

Nothing can stop you. Nothing can stop him. It’s everything, everywhere, all at once. A rush of endorphins and adrenaline and pleasure and lust and love and adoration.

And you cum harder than you think you ever have. You lose time. Lose almost every one of your senses. You can’t see or hear anything beyond soft murmurs of Harry’s voice, calling to you. Saying something you can’t decipher.

You scream out his name until your throat is raw. And it goes for what feels like hours. Perhaps it’s only seconds, but it feels immeasurably longer than that. 

He holds you through every second. Hands on your hips to keep you against his tongue while he kitten-licks at your pussy until you’re gasping for him to stop. 

He does, but only after he’s decided he’s finished. That you’ve given him all you can and that he’s cleaned up his mess. 

Then, he rises up, and comes to you. Pressing his mouth to yours and kissing you harder than he has all day. You taste everything, but you mostly taste him. And the way he loves you.

He only stops once. Leaning back to catch your eye, brush his thumb across your cheek, and whisper, 

“Fucking love it when you scream.”

~ Mine Masterlist

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Since deciding on moving in together once their respective leases expired, (Y/N) had been making a point to spend more time with Sarah while she was still so close. She didn't want to get in the way if Harry was trying to do the same. 

"No, no, I wanna talk to you, 's alright," he assured her, "How was your day?" 

It was still sweet to (Y/N) the way that she could text him all day long, telling him everything about her day, and he still would ask her a question like this. He told her once that he likes hearing her voice, even if he already knows what she's telling him. 

"It was alright," she said, rolling to lay on her back, looking up at her ceiling, "I turned in that paper that I was working on last weekend, so that's all done. The library was super quiet today, though, I almost fell asleep in the philosophy section." 

A small laugh sounded from Harry. "Did y'really?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, a smile curling her lips, "Elizabeth had to come entertain me. But, what about you? You did that big piece today, right?" 

"Yeah, the thigh piece," he said, voice thick, "She was a nice girl, but I had a headache by the time we took the first break. She liked to talk a lot. M'hand's been cramping since lunch." 

A pout landed on (Y/N)'s lips. She hated hearing about those kinds of details from Harry's job. She had always figured it was so fun and glamorous, easy and fulfilling. She had never thought about the physical toll of drawing and shading and designing all day long. 

"Oh, no," she hummed, instinctively rolling her wrist and curling her fingers as if she could take his pain from miles away. "Did you take anything to help?" 

"Kind of. Mitch and I have been relaxing since he got home." 

She knew exactly what that meant. Though Harry tended to keep this specific hobby of his separated from her, set on the back burner away from the time he spent with her, she knew better. Besides, she had found that little bag in his dresser months ago, she wasn't completely clueless (of course, he did have to explain what she had found to her, but that was a different story). 

That would explain why time seemed to be moving a little bit slower on the other end of the phone, and the boisterous laughter Mitch was sharing in the background. 

"Have you been smoking?" she asked, voice quiet. She always felt a bit silly bringing this up to him, unsure of what terms to be using and what meant what exactly. 

"A little bit, yeah," he affirmed, "Sorry. I didn't know you'd be calling. I wouldn't have if I knew you wanted to talk tonight." 

Shaking her head despite the fact he couldn't see her, (Y/N) rushed her protests. "No, no, don't be sorry. I don't mind, you know that. As long as you're happy and you guys are being careful." 

"Always am, baby." 

A heat bubbled in her chest at his words. While he never did it around her, there were times that she called him or he FaceTimed her before bed when he was under the influence and his voice drawling just a little deeper, sitting heavier in his chest, hit her just perfectly. She could imagine the way his eyes were a bit hooded, his tongue sticking around his words, the easy smiles that spread across his face for no other reason than he liked the feeling. 

She wondered what he looked like in the act. Was it like the movies with lavender smoke and pieces of blown glass with intricate details? Or did he make his own little rolls, hanging from his lips like a cigarette? 

Mitch's loud laugh on the phone brought her back to reality, blinking her back to her room and Harry's static on the other end of the phone. Harry gave a muffled response before his own laughter joined his best friend's, the sound drawling and breezy. 

When he returned to the phone, she could hear the lingering smile in his tone. "I think Mitch found a movie for us to watch, love." 

"What is it?" she asked, feeling the end of the phone call nearing. She would have to settle for spraying the stuffed bunny he gifted her for Valentine's Day with a sample of his cologne for her to cuddle for the night. 

"I don't even know," he laughed, "but, I think 's gonna be funny. I think 'm gonna have to make us food, though, so I don't think I can talk for much longer." 

"That's okay. Have fun with Mitch and I'll talk to you tomorrow, right?" 

"Right," he affirmed, voice soft, "Sleep well, lovebug. I'll call you during my lunch." 

"Okay," she sighed, fitting her cheek against her pillow, "I love you." 

"I love you more, baby," he cooed, "Goodnight." 

An exaggerated kiss noise sounded through her phone, pulling a loud peal of laughter from (Y/N)'s lips. He never really did that when he was around his friends, only putting on the show when he was calling her in private. She thought it was very sweet. 

"Goodnight," she laughed, pressing the red button before she became too spoiled with his shenanigans and tried to keep the call going. 

Setting her phone on her nightstand, she snuggled into her comforter, a throw blanket covering her body instead of her duvet. Pulling her studded bunny from the fringes of her bed, (Y/N) nestled her cheek against the soft fluff. The sown still smelled of Harry's house from the last time she had spent the night, bringing her back to what he was doing in her absence. 

The mystery surrounding his activity of choice for the day is what flicked her curiosity. She'd seen a few movies with marijuana being an uncredited character along with a couple of books with the high feeling being described, but she had never been exposed to anything substantial in real life before she moved away from her parents. Even then, she still hadn't experienced more than the herbal scent that inevitably clung to apartment complexes so close to a university campus and the few bleary eyed classmates she had to work with. 

Specifically, she wondered what Harry was like when he was in that state. Those classmates of hers always seemed disconnected, tired, and in their own head. Was Harry the same way? Did he act the way he did when he drank a little bit too much wine? Or was he wild and excitable like those in the movies? Or sleepy like she had read in her books? 

What would she be like? 

The idea followed her behind her shuttered eyes, her mind going a bit floaty the closer she sunk into sleep. 

—————

"Sarah, have you ever... smoked weed before?" 

The words felt silly falling from (Y/N)'s mouth. Was that even the correct term? She didn't know, but she kept her attention on the food she was making in front of her, hoping Sarah wouldn't notice. 

"Yes," she answered with a suspicious drawl, sweeping through the apartment with a laundry basket on her hip, "Why?" 

(Y/N) only shrugged. "I don't know. I've just been thinking about it." She paused, tipping her head. "What does it feel like?" 

"Smoking?" Sarah pressed. 

"Yeah," (Y/N) chirped, feeling shy that she was even breaching this conversation. "Or, like, being high. Is it like the movies?" 

"A little bit," Sarah mused, folding her laundry on the dining room table into neat piles. "It's not as dramatic or crazy, but it can feel that way sometimes. It depends on the person. Everyone's different." 

Rolling her lips, (Y/N) nodded her head. She chanced a look over her shoulder at her friend, slowing her stirring. "What are you like?" 

Sarah shrugged, a crease between her brows as she thought. "I haven't smoked in a while, but I used to get really tired. It always depended on what kind we had, but I usually got really tired." 

Is that what Harry did? Did he get sleepy, like some of her classmates? Did he nod off during the movie he and Mitch watched the other night? 

"When was the last time?" (Y/N) asked, hoping Sarah didn't cut her off. She was genuinely curious, she hoped she wasn't prodding and poking past her welcome. 

"Maybe a year ago? Could have been longer," Sarah answered. "I was with Mitch so it wasn't too long ago." 

Fixing her attention back on the stirring of the soup she was making for their dinner, she tried to act casual as she spoke. "W-Was Harry there, too?" 

"Harry?" 

(Y/N) could hear the smile in Sarah's voice as she realized where (Y/N)'s curiosity was stemming from. She never tired of teasing just a little over how in love she was with her Harry. (Y/N) only hummed a confirmation, keeping her voice to herself. 

"He wasn't there the last time, but he did used to smoke with us sometimes," Sarah explained, sounding a little too amused as she spoke, "Why?" 

Shrugging, (Y/N) pretended as if she wasn't intrigued at the info Sarah could share. "No reason really. Was it fun? With Harry and Mitch and all?" 

"(Y/N)," Sarah sighed, her voice floating through a smile, "C'mon." 

Stopping her distracting task, she turned to face Sarah who was looking at her with that knowing smile she somehow always had when it came to (Y/N)'s secrets. She was an open book as her friend could tell. 

"What?" (Y/N) feigned nonchalance as if she hadn't already been caught. 

"Did Harry say something? Is that why you're asking about all of this?" Sarah poked, her features set in a gentle tease. 

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth she canted her head, eyes dropping to where Sarah's hands had stalled her folding. "Not exactly," she started, "He just... I don't know, I called him the other night and he was with Mitch and they had been smoking, he told me. I know he's done it a few times since we started dating, but I've just been thinking about it since then." 

Sarah hummed, nodding her head as she listened. "I get it," she said, "I know he doesn't do it around you or anything, right?" (Y/N) only shook her head. Popping her hip with a furrow appearing in her brow as she cast her mind back in search of answers for (Y/N)'s previous questions. "I wouldn't say it's exactly like the movies," Sarah continued, "But it depends on the person and the strain, and things like that. I usually get pretty tired and hungry, Mitch is like the movies sometimes—loud and everything is funny—, and Harry gets really lovey and lazy. None of us really make much sense, though." 

(Y/N) tried to picture it. Lavender smoke in the air, Harry lazing about with hearts in his eyes, Mitch laughing about nothing, and Sarah passed out in the corner with a pillow under her cheek. A pinch appeared between her brows as she tried to see where she would sit amongst those characters. 

"What do you think I'd be like?" 

Blinking, Sarah brought her gaze to her friend. She pursed her lips as she took in (Y/N). 

"I don't know. It's not the same as being drunk, so I don't know if you'd be as excitable." Sarah contemplated for a moment longer. "I don't really know, honestly. Are you thinking about finding out?" 

She could only shrug. A similar anxiety she felt around alcohol before she broke that barrier still surrounded this, if even a bit heightened given the fact the substance was still very much taboo in her life. There were so many scary, over-exaggerated out there about marijuana, along with the fact that it was still very much taboo in (Y/N)'s life. The use of it seemed to be something that was only done in private and kept as a secret for some people. She was worried that if she found out why, she would regret it. 

Though, there were those puffing thoughts in the back of her mind that begged to differ. It couldn't be that bad. Harry, Mitch, and Sarah were three of her favorite people in the whole world. They weren't devilish burnouts with a one-track lifestyle taking them down the drain, like horror stories and PSA's liked to project. They were good people who sometimes indulged in extra relaxation when they had the chance and the mindset to do so. There was nothing wrong with that. 

"You could ask H, if you wanted. You know he'd answer anything you wanted to know." 

"I know," (Y/N) drawled, unsure despite the fact she knew Sarah was telling the truth. "You don't think he'd be annoyed or anything? I know he keeps it all separate from me for a reason, so I don't want to make him upset." 

Sarah leveled her gentle gaze on (Y/N)'s face. "I think he does it because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. It's different than drinking wine with him and things like that, so I bet he just doesn't want to scare you." 

(Y/N) shook her head, "He couldn't scare me, though. He's too nice." 

"To you," Sarah clarified, her smile soft and teasing, "You know he just worries about you and all of that. You wouldn't upset him if you wanted to know more about anything he does."

He did love teaching and showing her things, she knew that. 

"I'll think about it," (Y/N) settled.

"Good," Sarah smiled, grabbing her stacks of folded laundry, "Is dinner ready?" 

"Almost," (Y/N) chirped, adding a little bit of extra seasoning to the pot, "I just need to add the noodles. It'll probably be ready by the time you're done putting everything away." 

Sarah gave a small cheer, stacks of clothing now rehomed in the laundry basket to be returned to her room. "Thank you," she sung, "We should watch that yacht show when we sit down, don't you think?" 

Perking up at the suggestion, (Y/N) quickly nodded her head. "That sounds perfect!" she smiled, mellowing some as she turned her attention to her swirling soup base, "And, thank you for answering everything, by the way. It always helps me." 

"I know, that's why I do it," Sarah settled, reaching out to squeeze (Y/N)'s arm gently before she swept away. 

Left in the silence of the kitchen with only the simmering soup, (Y/N) felt a little bit lighter. Some of her questions were answered even if she had more she wanted to hear from Harry directly. More than anything, she was a little enamored at the idea that Harry was loving and lazy under the influence. She already had a small idea given that she had seen how easy and bubbly he became when he drank, but she'd never seen him really slow down the way she pictured it in her head. 

She wanted to see just how lovey he became, if she was being honest. She already had the privilege of experiencing the affectionate side of him, she wondered just how much higher that volume would be kicked to if he had been smoking. What if he really did have hearts in his eyes?

The thought brought a quiet smile to (Y/N)'s face.

Maybe, she really would have to ask him. 

—————

"What are you thinking for dinner, my love?" 

(Y/N) puckered her lips to reciprocate the small kiss Harry gave her as he traipsed by the couch. Her eyes followed the broad of his back as her made his way towards the kitchen. With her hands folded on the arm of the sofa, she rested her cheek on her forearm, kicking her legs up behind her as she watched him.

"Whatever you want, I'm okay with," she told him, voice soft and easy. 

"Yeah?" he prodded, looking over his shoulder as he washed his hands in the sink, "Even if I didn't feel like making dinner tonight and decided to order sushi instead?" 

"Sushi?" (Y/N) bubbled, "From the new place?" 

Harry nodded, dimples thumbed into his cheeks. "I figured we could try it out tonight, if that was alright." 

"Yes, please," she beamed, her grin only widening when came around to join her in the common area after drying his hands. 

His lip ring bobbled as he matched her smile, using a gentle hand to push a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "Why don't you pull up the website for us while I put my sketches away, and find what y'like. Then we'll order, yeah? 

Despite the long hours he worked at the shop this past weekend, he looked as gorgeous as ever to (Y/N). He lacked eyeliner after wiping it off as soon as he made it home, but his eyes were still the star of the show against his creamy skin. A fresh bee tattoo stood out on the column of his throat, the mosaic wings following the line of his jaw amongst the rose bush filler he had inked across the skin. With the way he stood over her, she got the perfect view of his spiraling curls and the cut planes of his face complete with his glimmering nose stud and lip ring. 

She nodded her head in a lovey daze. "I can do that." 

Amusement flickered in his eyes as he looked down at her. He dipped to her level to press a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, moving away to gather the art supplies he was working with, "I'll be right back." 

Pulling out her phone, (Y/N) searched up the restaurant up while her mind was still on Harry. 

While the questions she had for him were still in the back of her mind, it was too easy to become distracted with him. They weren't apart for a long time by any stretch of the imagination, but even spending a long, four-day weekend away from one another allowed enough fondness to grow between them to keep her mind from wandering very far from what was right in front of her. Besides, Harry barely let her get a word in since she stepped foot in his home, having tugged her to his bedroom with his lips pressed to hers, only breaking for breath. 

She'd ask him at some point, she was sure. If she had the mind to after dinner. 

Browsing through the menu for a few minutes, (Y/N) found the rolls she was interested in, picking things she had a feeling Harry would like and finding other little gems on the website that she would mention in hopes of getting his opinion on. She searched through the site, trying to find an option to order online with no luck, the browser rerouting her to the main page every time she tried to plug into the ordering site. 

"H?" she called, realizing he still hadn't come back from resetting his utensils. 

"Yes?" he answered back, still in the bedroom, "What do y'need, love?" 

Instead of responding, she stood from the couch and moved towards his room, brows knitted and phone screen bright in her hand. "The website isn't working—it won't let me order," she explained, stepping over the threshold to his room. 

Lifting her head, she saw him standing at his dresser, back to the door with his head angled down and hands fiddling across the top of his dresser. He looked over his shoulder at her, his hands slowing. 

"Give me a second, and I'll take a look," he told her, "I'm still cleaning up—forgot I left some things out." 

"Oh?" she sounded, stepping towards him with her phone being slid back into her pocket, "Do you want any help?" 

Growing close enough, she peered around him to see what he was working on. Instead of spotting the graphite and colored pencils she figured she'd find, she instead saw tiny green buds splaying across the wooden surface with a pair of loose pieces of thin paper and a tall black canister. Harry worked quickly to clean up the mess, majority of the green flakes having been scooped up and replaced in the container though he was struggling to wrangle the remains back into their container. 

"'S alright," he murmured, shifting just enough to cut her view of the space, "'M almost done." 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she rocked on her heels as she stayed put. Before she could think better of her words, they were already spilling from her mouth: 

"Is that weed?" 

She cringed at the sound of her voice wrapping around something so outside of her vocabulary. It sounded better in her head.

Harry's hands slowed, stilling before he looked over his shoulder at her. A sliver of his workspace was once again revealed at the small shifting. 

"What was that?" he pressed, his question seemingly heavy between the two of them. 

She said the wrong thing, didn't she? (Y/N) dropped her gaze from his, settling on the new bumblebee on his neck instead. 

"I ask if that was your... you know," she trailed off, hating the sound of her floundering almost more than just saying the word outright, "That's weed, right?" 

Feeling Harry's gaze trail over her, (Y/N) tried not to squirm. 

"It is, yeah," he muttered, "I didn't realize I left it out. 'M sorry."

Darting her eyes up to match his once more, she tipped her head to the side. "Why are you sorry?" 

Turning away from the dresser entirely, Harry faced her directly. He gave her a small shrug. "I don't like leaving it out when you're here. I meant to clean it up before y'came over, but I forgot." 

"You know I don't mind," she reminded him, "You don't have to be sorry." 

A gentle smile curled his lips, only a single dimple in his cheeks as he looked at her. 

"Thank you, love," he started, "Let me clean up, I'll wash m'hands again, and then I'll—" 

"What does it feel like?" 

(Y/N) could feel her skin simmering in embarrassment as her tumbling question fell from her mouth before she had a chance to police the words. Everything she had been too distracted to ask him came flooding back then, unable to be stopped now that she saw the opportunity. 

"Sorry," she peeped, realizing how abruptly she had cut him off.

He waved her off, "'S alright." He watched her with attentive eyes, catching each of her expressions and minute movements. "What does what feel like?" 

There was no going back now, she figured. 

"Being high," she peeped, "What does it feel like?" 

While he didn't seem to understand where her line of questioning was coming from, or understood her sudden curiosity in his private hobby, he didn't dissect any further. 

Harry rolled his neck, pursing his lips. "It's different for everyone," he started, much the same as Sarah had, "It depends on the kind you smoke, too." 

"But what does it feel like for you?" she rattled off, her words coming quick. Her hands were a busy bundle at her waistline, looking at him with curious eyes. 

A small tug on the corner of his lip had a lopsided smile sparking on his mouth. "It depends, like I said, on what kind, but I usually like it best when m'hands hurt. It helps numb it long enough for the cramping to go away," he mused, "But, other than that, it makes me tired—but not enough to sleep. I jus' want to do nothing but sit and eat. I also get very touchy; lots of cuddling with pillows and whining about not being with you." 

He had to have known that his last comment would get her lips splitting into a sheepish smile, (Y/N) dropping her head to fix her gaze at their feet. It was still a little wild to her that Harry thought about her as often as she did him, even when she wasn't right in front of him.

"You feel like that every time?" 

"Mostly, yeah," he shared, "Sometimes I feel like sketching, or I fall asleep right away. Back when Mitch and I would go out a lot, I used to be really hyper—doing stupid shit because I wasn't afraid of anything. I've definitely calmed down since then." 

"Oh," she sounded. (Y/N) couldn't imagine Harry being reckless, getting himself into trouble that way—but, this was the same man that apparently received his first tattoo at a mechanic's garage by a very amateur artist. He was capable of anything, she guessed. 

"Why do you want to know, love?" he asked, tipping his head with a spiral of his curl falling over his shoulder. 

She attempted to act as nonchalant as possible, giving a shrug of her shoulders despite her lips being rolled between her teeth. "I don't know," she answered, "I've just been thinking about it, I guess." 

"Yeah? Is that all y'wanted to know?" 

While there had to have been hundreds of questions that could come to mind, everything from what he and Sarah meant when they specified reactions were based on the strain or kind of weed that was being consumed, to what skunks vs. dank meant when it came to the herb, she didn't know where to start. Though there was one thing she was wanting to know, beyond just the details of what it would be like to see a clingy, lovey Harry. 

"What do you think I'd be like?" she asked, her words coming out in a rush before she could rethink them.

Harry's gaze was warm on her face as he examined her. Amusement sparked in his eyes. 

"I don't know, but I have a feeling you'd be a little bit like Mitch," he explained, "I think you'd be excited about everything. But, I'd hope you'd be a little like me just because I like the idea of you being clingy and warm, too." 

She liked that idea, too. It was easier this time to add herself to the picture of Harry, Mitch, and Sarah, superimposing herself at Harry's side with her own hearts in her eyes and her hands tangled with his. (They could sneak kisses, too, if she caught the bug of no fear like he used to have).

"Could—Can I—... I think I want to try, if that's alright," she stuttered, unable to find the right words before just letting something roll off her tongue. 

Harry's silence was heavy between them, the lilypad of his irises setting on her. "You want to try smoking?" 

Starting with a soft nod, she tried to find that reckless bubbling that had carried her this far. "I think so, yeah." A beat passed. "If that's alright." 

When he didn't immediately say anything, she chanced a peek up at him to find his eyes fixed on her, gentle and melting as he took her in. He opened his arms for her when he caught her eye, his features softened and warm. "C'mere." 

(Y/N) all but fell into his arms, his chest warm and solid under her cheek. She looped her arms around his middle, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxed into him. He worked like a shot of lavender incense and chamomile tea for her, the perfect thing to settle her in moments like these. 

His hand spanned over the planes of her back, fingertips massaging the knots of muscle and ladder of her spine. He rubbed over her form in a soothing circuit between her shoulder blades, his opposing hand an anchoring weight on her waist. 

"Y'really want to try it out, love?" he prodded her gently, his voice rumbling under her cheek. 

"I think so," she mumbled, finding it easier to speak now that she was there to hold her instead of watch her.

"When did y'decide that?" 

"The other day, I think," she explained, "After we talked on the phone." 

He hummed, the sound reverberating in her ear. "What made y'think y'wanted to try something like this?" 

Harry always liked to talk her through things like this, she found. It made it easier for him to understand her thought process, he'd said, helping him be honest with her if he worried she was making a choice that might hurt her later. He never lacked patience when it came to guiding her through new experiences. 

"I don't know," she answered honestly, "I just want to know what it's really like. I've only seen a couple of movies and read a few books, but I want to know what it would feel like for me. I don't think it could be so bad if you like it." 

Nosing at her hair, she could feel the smile that had spread across his lips. "'M not always the smartest though, baby. You know that." 

She let out a small laugh at his griping. "I know, but I trust you. If you really don't think it would be good for me, I know you would tell me." 

A pause settled between them. 

"You don't feel like you have to, right? Jus' because 's something I do sometimes, I don't expect you to feel comfortable with it or want to do it with me." 

"I know," she responded, voice resolute, "I just want to try it at least once. If I don't like it or anything like that, I won't do it again." 

After a lingering moment, Harry drew her away from him, peering down at her with a soft gaze. "If you're sure, then we can try it whenever y'want. Jus' let me help you, and I'll be there." 

An impulsive flicker lit through her system. She was on a roll, why stop now? 

"Can we try it tonight?" 

Harry looked at her with widened eyes. "Tonight?" 

(Y/N) nodded her head. "I don't have class until the afternoon tomorrow," she started, a plan coming together, "Do you have to go in early tomorrow?"

His smile was lopsided as he shook his head, likely following where she was going with this. "No, I don't." 

"We could stay up, then," she rattled off, "I could try tonight, and if anything goes wrong we can sleep in a little in the morning." 

Amusement filtered through his gaze. "I didn't know we were having a sleepover," he teased her, dipping his head until his nose nudged against hers, "Y'want to stay the night with me, baby?" 

Her skin hummed as (Y/N) fought the urge to hide herself in his neck. (She acted as if he hadn't been fingers deep in her just a few hours prior, their mouths welded together and her legs around his waist)." 

"Harry," she whined, curling her fists in his t-shirt to keep from pulling away, "I'm trying to be serious." 

"I know," he crooned, tipping his chin to peck a soft kiss to her pouted lips, "And, 'm listening. We can try it out tonight, if y'really want to. But, I think we should eat first, yeah?" 

"Yeah," she repeated, giving a slight nod of her head, "I still need help with the website, though."

"Right," he murmured, pulling away, "Since I don't really need to clean up anymore, let me take a look." 

With that, (Y/N) handed him her phone, telling him about the confusion she felt with the links and the rerouting and all, but her mind was somewhere else. Flicking her gaze around his shoulder, she saw the mess he was leaving out for them to take care of later. The small green buds sparked that familiar kind of nervous excitement that she'd grown accustomed to when it came to new things Harry was planning on teaching her. 

She just hoped she didn't make a fool of herself.

—————

"What did you think, love? Good, right?" 

Taking their dirty utensils—including the pink chopsticks he gifted her for Valentines—Harry spoke over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen.

(Y/N) sat pliantly on the couch, tummy full of the variety of sushi rolls they sampled for the night, along with a new favorite miso soup that she was surely going to be craving as the week went on. "So good. I think my favorite is still the spicy salmon one with that seaweed salad on top." 

Harry laughed from where he stood, surely remembering the way she had practically taken that roll for herself, hoarding the pieces to allow only one bite for him. "I really liked that one, too. We'll have to go back again soon, yeah?" 

"Yes, please," she chirped, looking over the back of the couch as he made his return. 

While the food was a delicious distraction for the night, (Y/N) had still marinated in the idea of what would be coming once she finished and they were settling for the night. The mess he'd left on his dresser was waiting for them, loose papers and all. 

"Ready?" he asked, coming to stand at the end of the sofa.

Was she? She wasn't sure, honestly. But that uncertainty was outweighed by the curiosity and bubbly jitters she had since Harry had agreed to help her. 

Before she had a chance to answer and take his hand, Harry spoke up again, "Jus' to get ready for bed first, baby." 

"Oh," she sounded, nothing more intelligent coming to mind at the moment, "Um, yeah. Then we'll...?" 

He cracked a smile at her hesitancy to name the activity that she had brought up. "Yes, we'll do that afterwards. You'll probably feel more comfortable in some pajamas and your face clean." 

Though she felt a bit silly at the way she had built up a moment that hadn't quite arrived yet, she understood his logic. Besides, if she turned out to be like Sarah, she wouldn't beat herself up in the morning if she did all of her skincare now, and not when she was already inches from sleep.

Taking Harry's hand, she followed after him as he led her to his bedroom, a small duffle bag of hers that stayed here was already sitting by the bathroom door. A change of clothes, and minis of her most essential skincare needs were packed away inside, making it easy for her to spend the night impulsively when she wanted to. 

(Just then, the reminder that she wouldn't be confined to a single bag when they moved in together made her more giddy than before. Soon, she'd be sharing a whole closet with him, a bathroom, and a home. She couldn't wait).

(Y/N) went through the motions of getting unready with Harry standing behind her in the mirror. More often than not, as she brushed her teeth or patted a balm into her skin, her eyes wandered to his reflection. Once or twice, when she was caught, he gave her a sly smile with glimmering eyes. But, when he didn't catch her, his attention on his own task, she was left to allow her mind to gill with imagination. 

She was reminded as she ran her eyes along the cut of his jaw, the plants of his features, and the high points in-between, that he would be stepping behind the lavender veil with her. His previous conversation with her had only revolved around her and what she wanted out of this experience, straying her mind away from the fact that he was going to be a part of the package. 

What would he look like with smoke pluming from his mouth? Would his lilypad eyes go glazed and red? She wondered if his hands would feel any different gliding over her skin, if his lips would still feel as pillowy against hers. 

The thought had her cheeks warming, a sheepish smile forming around the toothbrush between her lips. 

Harry finished before her, stepping out of the bathroom to give her privacy to change into her pajamas. "I'll wait for you out here," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her head. 

Closing the door behind himself, she was left alone with the chilled tile under her socked feet. Glancing at the mirror, (Y/N) found herself fresh-faced with wide eyes and a slight swell to her lips from the amount of times she rolled them between her teeth. Blinking, she wondered if she would look any different to Harry after she pulled the smoke into her lungs. 

It was with rushed hands that she dressed into her sleep clothes (really nothing more than a pair of tiny shorts she would inevitably kick off in the night, and a shirt she had stolen so long ago from Harry that it was hers now), almost slipping her top on backwards before she righted herself in the mirror. Stepping out of the washroom with her laundry being dropped atop her duffle for later, (Y/N) saw Harry once again at his dresser.

This time, he looked to her with an easy smile, his hands working over the surface before him.

"Better?" he smiled, lip ring bobbing. 

"Mhm," she hummed, moving towards him in slow strides, "What are you doing?" 

Turning back to face his hands, he told her, "Jus' getting our things ready. Do you want to watch?" 

A pinch creased her brows as she went towards him. Peering around his shoulder, she saw him working with one of the loose papers from before and a small pile of crushed up greenery. 

"What do you have to do?" (Y/N) only had a vague idea of what all went into preparing for a session like this. 

Smiling down at her, his ministrations slowed now that her attention was placed on his hands. He sidestepped just enough to allow her an unobstructed view of his work. "I figured we'd stick with a joint this first time, so I've got to roll one up for us to use." 

Looking at it now, while she didn't have much knowledge of any of this, she could see familiar pieces forming. The paper would be rolled and twisted with the bud inside, Harry flickering a lighter at the end like a cigarette when it was ready.

"How do you do that?" she muttered, stepping that much closer, feeling as if she were a child pressing their nose against the glass separating them from gallons of ice cream. 

A huffed laugh fell from his lips then. Lifting his arm up, he beckoned her to stand between his chest and the dresser. "C'mere." 

Slipping into the small space he freed for her, the heat of his chest could be felt against her back. Though she caught whiffs of it before, now the herby, earthy smell of the bud was right at her nose, wafting through the air and clinging to her skin. Right in front of her, Harry worked around her, his fingers deftly working through his supplies. 

"First," he started, "You've got to keep the paper flat out and put one of the filters at the end." She watched as he pulled a tiny white piece from the canister, setting it at the middle of one of the short ends of the paper. He kept it stable when he reached for the ground up weed that he had piled in the lid to the container, a small mound he pinched at before sprinkling the chunks in a line across the paper. "We've got to fill it up enough so there's not any air bubbles between," he explained as he worked, his arms hovering above her shoulders as he created their joint with the ease of experience. "This part’s always a little hard for me," he told her, to her surprise. 

"What do you mean?" He could have fooled her.

"'S hard to pack it in like this," he elaborated, his voice dull as he concentrated, "M'fingers are too big, so I've got to be extra careful that I don't mess it up." 

Honing her gaze in on his digits, she had to keep herself from tipping her head to the side and falling victim to the sight. She could see it then, she figured, watching as he tried to pat everything as tightly and precisely as possible. His fingers definitely were too big. 

"Oh," she sounded. 

A breathy laugh came from behind her, the exhale twisting through the hair on the top of her head. "Would y'do something for me, love?" he asked, finally packing enough in as tightly as he could before he started folding the ends of the thin paper. 

She gave a nod, now too transfixed on his hands to speak with an even tone. 

"Would you give this a lick for me?" he asked, "We've gotta seal it up before I can twist it all up." 

"Like, the paper?" she clarified, eyeing the open flap he was presenting to her with the joint grasped carefully between his fingers. 

Harry hummed a confirmation. "There's glue on this edge like an envelope. Gotta make it sticky, then I can close it up for us."

"Um, okay," she muttered, placing a steadying hand on his wrist as he brought the almost-joint to her lips. 

Parting her mouth, she swiped the tip of her tongue along the very edge of the paper. It didn't taste quite as artificially sweet as a regular envelope, but then again, everything was coated in that dusky scent that the herb folded inside held. 

"Thank you, baby," he told her, pulling the joint from her lips as he did the closing motion of sealing the edge to the roll. She watched as he did the final step, twisting down the free edge into a tight swirl before he presented it with the filtered end between his fingertips. "All done." 

In front of (Y/N) was the stereotypical joint that she had seen in the few films that showed as much. The paper was translucent in the way that she could clearly see it was filled from the inside with dark, green flakes. The filtered edge was tapered down into a small funnel, leaving the head of the roll trumpeting out, thick with the ground up weed. 

"That was fast," (Y/N) muttered, wanting to reach out and touch, but too scared. 

"I've gotten pretty good, I can't lie," he joked with her, pressing his lips to the back of her head. A paused settled again before he spoke to her, his head still dipped down as he murmured, "Y'still feeling alright, darling? Still want to, or do y'want to go to bed and watch a movie instead?" 

Examining the joint in front of her, the thick scent of the weed surrounding her with the heat of Harry's chest at her back, she nodded her head. "I still want to." 

Dropping an arm to wrap around her waist from behind, Harry hugged her to him for a moment. "Grab a jacket then, and we'll go out back for a second, yeah?" 

"Outside?" she asked, turning in his hold. 

"Don't want it stinking up the house, right?" He looked at her with a raised brow, already stepping towards the closet in search of his own coat. "We'll be fast, baby, 's alright." 

(Y/N) supposed he was onto something, realizing that she had never been struck by the heavy scent like she would figure if he had smoked in his bedroom. As long as no one complained, it wasn't a bad idea to head outback for a second. It would be nice to take in deep breaths in between the smoke too, she figured. 

With a set of slippers on her feet, and a thick hoodie on her body, she followed Harry out the back door, ending on the back patio. He sat on the stoop at her feet, patting the space next to him. 

"Warm enough?" he asked, moonlight waning above their heads. 

Snuggling closer to his side, she nodded her head. "I'm alright, thank you. Are you warm?" 

Despite the unzipped jacket on his form and the thin t-shirt underneath, Harry gave her a small smile. "'M good, baby." 

Flicking out a lighter and the joint from his pocket, he sparked the flame with a flick of his fingers. 

He ran the spark over the trumpeted tip of the joint, his face warming in the firelight glow. "We'll take it easy tonight, yeah?" he murmured, concentration on his hands, "I don't think it'll take much to get y'there, so we probably won't finish this but we'll save the rest for another time if you want." 

She watched as he rotated the edge of the joint over the flame, evenly burning the tip. "Are you not going to have any?" 

"I will," he assured her, "But, I want to make sure I can take care of you. I won't be having too much." 

Having a deja vu moment, (Y/N) was reminded of how it felt to be sitting in his lap as he fed her wine, keeping his own head clear while he let her run wild. 

With the end of the joint glowing a warm orange, Harry put the lighter away. He ashed the very tip away, revealing cool lavender smoke twisting through the air with a heady scent clinging to the particles. 

"Want the first go?" he asked, tipping the roll towards her in an offer. 

"No, no," she answered immediately, "You first." 

His smile was lopsided as he agreed, pulling the joint to his mouth. She watched as he tucked the filtered end between his lips, taking in a shallow inhale with the fiery end glowing to life. His chest expanded as he inhaled. He only pulled the roll away from his lips when his chest was puffed with smoke, a lingering second passing before he exhaled, plumes of dancing smoke drifting through the air. The heavy, thick aroma of the weed surrounded them. 

(Y/N) couldn't pull her eyes from him as the smoke seeped from between his lips, a thin, violet filter hazing his features. The moon above seemed to catch each particle, drowning the scene in cool toned shades, muted and closed. 

She waited for something to change in the way he looked, the way he acted. When the only thing he did was turn to her with a blink, once again offering the joint to her for a try, she wasn't sure what she had expected. 

"Do y'think y'can do that?" 

Her brows creased. "Do what?" 

Amusement molded his features as he tipped his chin towards his offering. "Taking a hit," he stated, "Inhaling, and everything." 

"I-I think so," she answered, carefully pulling the roll from his fingers. She hesitated before taking it to her lips, nervous to replicate his actions while he watched. "Do you feel any different?" 

His smile was warm as he shook his head. "No—probably won't be too different tonight. I've built my tolerance pretty high, so I'll be fine." 

"Oh," she sounded, feeling the slightest bit disappointed knowing that she wouldn't get the full experience of seeing him for what he was under the influence. Maybe sometime she could convince him to let it go. Focusing back on the joint, she stared intensely at the thin ribbon of smoke falling from the tip. "How do I inhale?" 

"Jus' breathe in, baby," Harry laughed, throwing an arm across her shoulders. He tucked her against his side, warming her through her layers. "Only take a little bit at a time, though. And, if y'need to cough, jus' let it happen. You'll be alright." 

Though it was only a few tiny rules, it felt like so much to remember, to keep track of while she was trying something so foreign.

"Wh-What if I take too much?" she muttered, worrying now the longer that she let it keep burning. She hoped she wasn't wasting everything he'd done for her. 

Harry paused, rolling her question around his head before answering. "You'll be alright," he assured her, "Jus' don't want you to take too much, or anything, that's all." 

The idea of taking too much scared her more than the other rules. She didn't know what too much was; how would she know if there was too much in her lungs, how would she know if she needed to pull back? 

"Can you help me?" she murmured, worry lacing through her tone. 

"I can hold it for you if you want?" he offered, though his option didn't seem so concrete as she had hoped. 

"You can't do more?" 

A small silence sat between them when he didn't answer right away. She looked to him, finding him looking at the joint between her fingers with a contemplative crease between his brows. 

"I might have an idea that we can try," he started, flicking his gaze to match hers. "Y'trust me, right?" 

Her nod was immediate. 

A small smile folded his lips as he took the joint from her hand. He brought the roll to his lips, taking in another deep inhale with his eyes fluttering as his chest expanded. The cherry brightened as he pulled in the smoke. As soon as he pulled it away from his mouth, he spoke to her in a muddled voice, a small streak of smoke escaping through his nose. 

"C'mere." 

(Y/N)'s eyes rounded out in confusion. She was already right here, right?

The arm Harry had thrown across her shoulders slithered around her form until his palm came to a cradle on her cheek. He pressed forward then, his lips parting just enough for (Y/N) to get the hint. 

He wanted to kiss her.

Fluttering her eyelids to a close, she leaned forward in an attempt to meet him halfway. Harry, with his hand on her cheek, stopped her short, a small distance left between them. 

With her eyes opening to slits, she found him looking to her with his own gaze trained on her lips. His tender hand on her cheek shifted until his thumb was resting in the full of her bottom lip. Tugging just slightly, he parted her pout into a small gape. Harry ripped his head, leaning just that much closer with his pursed lips. 

(Y/N) held her breath, her own mouth parted open as she felt soft plumes of smoke fan over her lips. His lips just barely grazed her own, pressing against the soft pillows as the smoke ghosted over her tongue, heady and thick.

Pulling away just enough with smoke still twirling around his features, he told her, "Breathe in, baby." 

His voice was still heavy in his throat, emulating the way he spoke in the morning. The detail gave (Y/N) something to focus on as she instinctually closed her mouth as if biting down, the smoke now contained to a thin veil between them. He kept his hand steady on her cheek as she inhaled the way she saw him do, her chest bloating as she filled her lungs with the gifted smoke. 

While she didn't feel the burning in her chest that she thought would accompany the smoke, she instead felt a thick heat in the back of her throat. She tried to mimic what she had seen Harry do, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a moment before exhaling, but she couldn't keep up when she felt her eyes begin to water. 

Unable to handle it much longer, (Y/N) released her breath in clumsy pants, embarrassed to be reacting so intensely right in Harry's face. Though, all he did was stay steady in his spot by her, thumbing at her chin and coaxing her through it. 

Tipping her head down, she finally coughed into her sleeve, eyes watering as she went with his hand falling to the slope of her neck. 

"'S alright, baby, jus' let it out," he murmured, his voice a gentle soothe, "You'll feel better in a second, love." 

By the time she regained her breath, there was a slight glaze over the back of her throat—not quite a tingle, but not entirely normal. Harry tipped his head down by then, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth with his palm spanning the shelf of her collarbones. 

"Y'alright?" he murmured, ever patient when he pulled away to match her eyes. 

Nodding her head, (Y/N) swallowed around her odd throat. "Was that alright?" she croaked, wet bottom lashes grazing the height of her cheekbone.

A fond smile molded Harry's features into soft curves. "Y'did jus' fine, lovebug. So proud of you for not getting scared," he praised her, thumb running over her warm skin, "Feels a little weird doesn't it?" 

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she nodded her head, watching as he ashed the joint they had probably let burn for just a touch too long. "Really weird," she told him earnestly, "My throat feels funny, but that's all so far."  

"Yeah? Want to keep going?" His eyes skated over her features, taking in every reaction, every minute stretch of her muscles. 

While she was sure there was something that would hit soon, she still felt comfortable enough to take a little more from him. (Y/N) answered with a small nod. 

"Same way we did before?"

Remembering the feel of his lips glancing across hers, the faint brush of the tip of his nose over hers, she could feel her skin simmering. "Yeah," she answered, hoping he thought the breathy quality of her voice was a lingering side effect of her coughing. 

He didn't look entirely fooled when that sly smile touched his lips. "Alright," he said, bringing the joint back up to his lips, "We'll do a couple more, then I think you're done, baby. That alright?" 

"That's alright," she murmured, "Thank you." 

This time, watching him taking in the long drag, (Y/N) knew what to expect when he turned to her. She allowed him to hover close enough that he was almost kissing her as he blew out another plume of smoke for her to inhale. When she took her time filling her lungs with the smoke, Harry tipped his head and smeared his lips over her cheek, kissing down her neck. 

She had more confidence this go around, coaxing herself through as Harry held her. That thick feeling in the back of her throat intensified as she closed her eyes, her chest expanding under her borrowed hoodie. 

"Doing good, baby," he murmured into her ear, pulling away to match her gaze, "Go ahead and breathe out, love. I think you're good." 

Following his direction, the lavender smoke twirled between them. Sucking in clean air, she filtered out her lungs. This time around, opening up her eyes to look up at the moonlight and the stars blinking over the inky canvas, things felt different. There was a bit of lethargy to her movements, even in the darting of her gaze. Her limbs felt as if there was extra weight attached, something heavy that slowed her before she even had a chance to move.

It was an odd feeling, something that she'd never experienced before or had anything of comparison to, but it wasn't unpleasant. She'd even say she liked it so far.

Harry seemed to pick up on the fact that she was edging into new territory as he watched over her, eyes sparking from amusement. "One more?" 

"Yeah," she settled, her lips feeling looser the more she sunk into the moment, "One more." 

"Wanna try by yourself?" he asked, taking his own small puff from the joint before he was angling it towards her. 

"Not by myself, no," she argued, still scared to be in charge of her own dosing. 

"I can hold it for you if y'want—take it back when you've had enough," Harry offered, letting a cloud leave his lips as he spoke. 

"Okay," she nodded, taking on his offer. 

"Open," he instructed, setting the filter of the joint between her lips, "Then jus' suck in, okay? You'll be able to feel it in the back of your throat, so stop if you've had enough and I haven't taken it back yet." 

(Y/N) wrapped her lips around the filter, taking in Harry's directions with absent ears. She couldn't imagine he wouldn't be able to catch herself and her intake before he did. 

Emulating what she'd seen from him before, she sucked in, her cheeks hollowing just enough to show off the shape of her cheekbones. The back of her throat warmed, embers igniting in a low burn. This was more than what Harry had given her before, but she didn't mind. This would be just enough,she figured.

At the perfect moment, Harry pulled away prompting her to breathe out the final cloud of smoke. He asked the joint once more, a small pile of grey dust having collected at their feet. 

A few huffed coughs fell from (Y/N)'s lips, unused to the feeling of gathering the smoke directly from the source. Harry wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side as she eased through the final intake. 

"How do you feel?" he asked her, voice low under the moonlight. 

Looking around, (Y/N) tried to find the answer to the question. 

It was an odd feeling, she decided. She felt both light and heavy at the same time, her head in the clouds with her body entirely anchored to the ground. Prickles poked at her skin, her limbs their own entity as she brought her hands into a bundle in her lap. 

There was no other way to describe it other than the fact that she felt high. 

"Good," she answered simply, "Different." 

"You'll get used to it, my love," he murmured into her ear, pressing a soft kiss to the space just before. 

"Do you feel different?" she asked, her voice heavy in her dry throat. 

"A little," Harry explained, stubbing out the cherry of the joint, "But, I think 's time we get inside before either of us freezes, don't you think?" 

"Yeah, yes."

It was when Harry let out a small huffed laugh that (Y/N) couldn't contain her own laughter. A loud peal fell from her lips. She wasn't even sure why she was laughing. That only made her laugh harder.

—————

"That is so funny," (Y/N) giggled to herself, clenching her hands in the fabric of her top lest she forget they were there. "Harry, did you see that?! It was funny!" 

He was back in the kitchen, working over the stove with a pot of noodles boiling away and a cheesey sauce working on the other burner, leaving (Y/N) to watch this movie all on her own. 

"Which part, baby?" he asked, his rumbling voice sounding farther away than she remembered. 

(Y/N) blinked, watching the brightly colored animated characters go across the television screen. "The one that was just on! With the cat on the piano!" 

How could he not have been paying attention? (Y/N) had never seen something so entertaining before, if she was being honest. This had to be her new favorite movie—she just needed to remember what it was called. 

"Oh," he sounded, "I did see that, sorry, lovebug. It was very funny." 

"Good," she responded absently, craning her neck to look over the back of the couch towards where he stood in the kitchen, "I'm so hungry, H." 

"I know," he laughed, looking at her with his skin seemingly glowing and the smile of a prince. "'M almost done, okay?" 

"How close is ‘almost’?" 

His smile only widened at her line of questioning. (Y/N) mimicked that look without a thought. 

"About five minutes. Can you wait that long?" 

"I'll try." She couldn't help the pout that took her features. She had told him she was hungry what felt like hours ago, and she still was waiting for food. He wouldn't even let her help either, but she could argue that she would have eaten already if he just let her follow him to the kitchen.

Raising his brows, Harry fixed his attention back on the television screen. "Oh, look. The little cat is back, baby." 

(Y/N)'s attention took a one-eighty as she did the same to face the TV once more. Harry was right, the kitten was back on screen. She didn't want to miss this. 

The high had hit her at full force only minutes after Harry had taken her inside, setting off a firing squad of so many different feelings (Y/N) had never experienced before. She had so much energy, but at the same time she wanted to sleep. She wanted to kiss and hold her boyfriend, but also had to make a point to remember where her limbs were. She wanted to eat and drink as much water as she could, but couldn't find the attention to do either of those things. In the back of her mind, she even debated on writing some for the course paper she needed to work on before the midterm exam next month—her mind swirling with ideas, but they were all out of order. 

How she decided on watching a movie instead of any of her other raucous ideas, she wasn't sure, but she was happy with the choice. This way, she was able to wrap up in the soft pink throw blanket that she left in his bedroom, sink into the new feeling, and make out with Harry when he was done cooking.

(It had really been Harry's prompting and prodding that led her to the conclusion that yes, she wanted to watch a movie and cuddle up with him while she ate, but he was happy with letting her assume it had been her own choice).

Time moved in mysterious ways since the high had hit, making it hard to decipher if it had been five hours or mere five minutes before Harry came to her with bowls of pasta and a buttery warm sauce poured over top. 

"That looks so good, H," she bubbled, overjoyed at the sight of food, "Thank you so much!" 

"You're welcome, baby," he smiled, "Do you need more water?" 

"No, just—Hold on." (Y/N) stumbled over her words, organizing her thoughts as steadily as she could and ultimately failing in favor of reaching towards Harry.

The second he settled into the cushion at her side, she had his jaw cradled in her palms, lips puckered and pressed against the corner of his mouth. A laugh bubbled through his lips, his smile felt under her kiss. 

"I missed," she laughed along with him, pulling away to watch his eyes light up and creases form around his smile, "Sorry." 

"'S alright," he beamed, cheeks still cradled in her palms, "Jus' slow down and try again." 

Though she didn't exactly have the wherewithal to follow his directions, she definitely tried her best. This time, she felt as if she went slower as she leaned in, pressing her lips to Harry's. He reciprocated her affection in soft kisses, (Y/N) melting the longer she reveled in his touch.

Her skin practically sang everywhere he touched her, taking her back to her wonderings of if there would be something extra to their affection while under the influence. That prickling that she had felt in her limbs just when the smoke started taking effect, now only occurred when he ran his fingertips over her skin or held her hand in his. The buzzing made her smile into the kiss, the pinpoint tickling under her skin.

"What's got you so smiley, hm?" Harry asked against her mouth, pulling away despite the tender hold she had on his cheeks. 

She beamed up at him with an easy grin, a rose colored glaze over her vision of him. "I just like touching you," she told him, "It tickles." 

He raised his brows in reaction, biting back a smile. "It tickles?" 

Watching the clear amusement on his face, (Y/N) couldn't help her own smile from turning into bubbling laughter. "Uh-huh," she barely answered, everything else dissolving around her laughter. 

"Now, why are you laughing?" 

Harry's investigation only proved to make the entire moment funnier to (Y/N) as she doubled over. Snuggling into his chest, she clung to him with her laughter muffled against his shoulder. "I don't know," she giggled, barely sure that the words even left her brain. 

"Oh, lovebug," he crooned, wrapping his arms around her, "What am I going to do with you?" 

A contented smile landed on (Y/N)'s features as she settled down. She burrowed against him, smushing her cheek on his shoulder and bundling her arms between their bodies. "Love me." 

The tip of Harry's nose skimmed the top of her head. "I already do that," he told her, words fanning across the strands of hair crowning her. 

"I love you too," (Y/N) answered simply. 

The cryptic sense of time she held struck once again when Harry drew away from her. Her body had relaxed into his as if she had napped on him for hours, but she could have been nestled in his arms for a max of three minutes for all she knew. 

"Are y'still hungry? Or do y'want me to save your noodles for later?" 

With that, (Y/N) swore her mind had been blown. "You brought me food, I totally forgot!" Twirling too fast for her brain to keep up, she was almost dizzy by the time she saw the bowl of pasta Harry had set in front of her, complete with salty cheese layered on top just like she asked. "That looks so good, H! Thank you." 

Harry gave her a small smile. "You're welcome, baby." 

A minute sense of deja vu niggled in the back of her head for just a second, but (Y/N) chose to ignore it in favor of twirling her fork through the spaghetti noodles.  

Had cheese always tasted this good? 

—————

"Harry, are you listening? This song is beautiful." 

"I know, love. 'S perfect, huh?" 

The drawl of Harry's response had (Y/N) peeking up at him. She found him lying with his eyes closed, mouth parted in a small gape, though his hand on her back never slowed the soothing circle he had curated.

"Are you tired?" (Y/N) whispered. 

A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth at her question. "A little. Are you?" 

(Y/N) paused, evaluating herself to give him an honest answer. "Yeah. A little." His heartbeat was set to a soothing pace under her ear, slowing into a steady rhythm as if urging him to sleep. "Are you almost asleep?" 

Though she could see his eyes were closed and his breathing was coming in soft puffs, Harry didn't slack on the duties he had taken on for the night. Since pulling her to bed and setting a playlist to softly sing through his bedroom, he had kept his cuddling hold on her firm and anchoring. He answered her every time she spoke to him and even crawled his way to the bedside table to skip the song whenever she started to whine over the melody. 

"A little," he smiled, his voice a deep rumble, "Are you?"

Another pause. "Maybe," (Y/N) answered honestly. She could fall asleep right now if she wanted, but she also wanted to keep listening to music. 

Harry hummed, his chest vibrating under her cheek. "Is there anything y'want before y'get sleepy? More water or a snack?" 

What did she need before she could peacefully fall asleep? 

Blinking her gaze up at him, she took in the tip of his nose, the curving pillow of his cupid's bow and the creamy texture of his skin. 

"A kiss? Please?" 

At that, Harry cracked his eyes open to peer down at her. "Y'haven't had enough of those yet?" 

"Never," she answered, completely honest. Harry still plucked a smile onto his lips at her response. 

"Can't blame you, darling—me neither." 

Shifting between the sheets, Harry used his free hand to cup (Y/N) cheek and tip her chin as he dipped down. He sealed his lips over hers in a loving kiss, nothing more than a soft pressing of their lips. She swore she could feel every ridge, every dip, every plane of his touch, catalogued to her memory though she hoped she would recall it in less fuzzy detail. 

"Love you," she murmured between breaths, immediately planting her lips across his once more. 

Harry smiled into the contact. He broke the rhythm of her kisses even further when he drew away, ignoring the way she chased after him with a craned neck and puckered lips.

"I love you too, lovebug." His eyes scanned over her features not for the first time that night, though something softened in his gaze. "You had a good time tonight?"

Walking through the lavender veiled events, everything was just a bit hazy and herbal, (Y/N)'s smile only grew. 

"Uh-huh," she beamed up at him, feeling herself settle into him that much more, "Thank you for showing me." 

Thumbing at the height of her cheekbone, Harry surged forward to press a delicate kiss to the bridge of her nose. "'M happy y'feel good, darling. That's all I want when we try new things." 

"I'm always happy when I'm with you." 

(Y/N) blinked as she saw his face light up with a bubbly smile, creases appearing by his eyes, dimples thumbed into his cheeks, and a slight flush over his nose. 

Had his smile always been that pretty?

—————

Harry decided she'd had enough after she finished her fifth run-through, quickly jogging down to the edge of the rink before she could skate out to the middle again. He leaned over the barricade and kissed the top of her head. This close to her, he could see her rosy cheeks and heaving chest, a sign that her routine did wear her out, despite making it look so effortless.

"You were phenomenal as usual, baby," Harry said while he gathered her things.

"I bobbled a landing and my timing was off for a whole four counts," was her reply.

Harry frowned, not pleased by her recent negativity. Any athlete could be critical of their ability, but Y/n seemed uncharacteristically hard on herself lately, and he had no idea why. "Everything okay?" He asked, shouldering her duffle bag as they walked away from the rink.

"I'm fine."

She certainly didn't sound fine, but Harry decided not to push. Not now, anyway. Changing the subject, he said, "I got an email from the recruiter. I should be receiving my contract soon."

Excitement didn't even begin to cover how Harry had been feeling lately. Last week, he'd met with an agent of a minor league hockey team, one that was a feeder to an NHL team. He expressed their interest in Harry moving to the east coast after graduation and join them for spring training. And after giving it some thought, Harry accepted.

He was over the moon, thrilled that years of hard work was finally paying off. He'd made his passion into a career, and had the potential to really make a name for himself. Life couldn't have been better.

But where Harry seemed to be flying high, Y/n seemed stuck. She was happy for him when he told her the news, had gone out to celebrate with him that night. But something felt off between them. Harry couldn't put a name to it, but he just knew.

"That's great," Y/n said with no amount of enthusiasm in her voice. Harry tried not to take it to heart, she was clearly in a mood from her practice. She was under a lot of pressure too, he reminded himself, and sometimes had a knack for not knowing how to express herself with words.

"Is there something on your mind? You've been quiet recently," he said, hoping he wasn't overstepping her delicate boundary.

Y/n shook her head as she approached her car, sliding into the driver's seat without a word. Harry couldn't help but feel more and more like there was something on her mind, but he let it go again.

Before pulling the car out of the parking lot, Y/n rested her hand over his and leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"It's okay. As long as you know you can talk to me about it."

Her throat bobbed, but she nodded, then turned her focus toward the road. Harry filled the silence with rambling. He talked mostly about the NHL, about his contract and where he wanted to live and how everything was happening so fast.

So caught up in trying to break the tension, he didn't notice Y/n's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

*.*

"Styles! What the hell are you doing? Focus up! Let's go!"

Harry rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily during the brief pause in the game. His eyes flicked up to the stands, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but he didn't see the one he needed the most.

Despite being recruited by a minor league hockey team, Harry was probably having the worst game of his life.

Not one pass connected, he was letting second-rate players get by him, and he'd spent more time in the penalty box than in the actual game. Nothing about this was right, and still all he could do was look for Y/n.

She wasn't there, and even though things had been weird between them recently, he was still surprised. When she wasn't at a competition of her own, Y/n came to every one of Harry's games. It had started out as Harry wanting to impress her, maybe show off a little, and then as time went on and they grew closer and their relationship became more than two people having sex in secret, he wanted her to be there just because it felt good knowing she was watching him play. All his nerves floated away when Y/n was sat in the stands, sometimes in his jersey, cheering him on.

And of course there were times when she couldn't come, but this wasn't one of those times. Y/n had purposely not shown up. He knew they'd fought before the game, but he didn't think she would abandon him just to be petty. They were past that now.

His sole focus should've been on the game he was playing, but instead his mind kept drifting to the fight.

Harry could feel Y/n pulling away from him. He finally felt like he was getting everything he wanted—a spot on a minor league hockey team on the east coast that would eventually lead him to the NHL, graduating with semi-decent grades thanks to Y/n, and of course being with his dream girl. At first, she'd seen him as some douchey athlete that was only good for one thing. He remembered seeing her for the first time their freshman year, performing tricks on the ice that he'd only ever seen on TV, and when he whistled and clapped loudly—perhaps a little obnoxiously—after she'd finished, she'd rolled her eyes at him and told him to fuck off.

It was love at first sight.

Harry had been so careful around Y/n. He played by her rules and followed her lead, trying not to let the comments about them not dating get to him too much. He liked their initial dynamic, finding it funny when he got under her skin because she made it so easy. It became a kind of game, this push and pull that was fun and exciting and eventually led to their arrangement.

He knew that she cared about him on some level, he just needed to bide his time and show her he wasn't who she thought he was. Not entirely, anyway. And when she finally did, and they became more than just people who screwed around, everything was perfect.

They'd been through so much together. Y/n pushed Harry to be better, and he worked with her to master new tricks and nail her routine. There wasn't anyone else who understood his level of commitment to hockey, but she did, and that just made him love her more.

So when he got the call offering him a spot on the minor league team, Y/n was the first person Harry told. She'd been happy for him, and he was over the moon, his mind already making a million plans—where they'd live, her coming to his games, him helping her find a new rink to train at. It felt like the doors to a new and exciting world had opened for them, but she then she started pulling back, and Harry practically watched as that door slammed shut.

Harry pushed himself to focus back on the game, on the hockey stick in his hand and the ice beneath his skates. He felt like it took more effort than it should've to get his head back in the game, but his team managed to pull out a win, and he managed not to get benched before it happened. That didn't stop his coach from ripping him a new one in the locker room, but Harry sat there and took it, shaking his head and promising his piss poor performance would never happen again.

Exhausted both physically and mentally, he trudged out of the locker room and toward the parking lot, debating whether to take the bus home or call an Uber. Even in his senior year, he still didn't have a car, but Y/n was usually there to give him a ride home. To their home. Moving in together for their last year of school seemed like a no-brainer, and it had been amazing so far, though the last week had been kind of a disaster. Harry could feel the tension between them growing, but every time he asked Y/n about it, she'd say she was fine even though they both knew everything was not fine, and the cycle continued. He wanted to be excited, he wanted to celebrate the success he'd managed to create for himself, but he felt rather deflated instead.

To Harry's surprise, Y/n was waiting for him in the parking lot. He didn't hesitate putting his gear in the trunk and coming around to sit in the passenger seat. Y/n leaned in to kiss him immediately holding onto the sides of his face fervently.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry for not being here tonight and I'm sorry for acting strange, and I'm sorry for—"

"Y/n, what's going on with you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Can we wait until we get home to talk?" She asked. I want to be able to talk to you properly, and I can't if I'm driving.

When Harry nodded, Y/n must've deemed it enough. She peeled away from the rink, silent tension filling the air between once again. It had been following them around all week.

That ended tonight, though. He didn't care how much Y/n hated confrontation or hard conversations. They couldn't move forward if they didn't move past this roadblock first. Harry loved Y/n more than he ever thought possible, and stubborn as she was, he knew she loved him just as much. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter how hard she tried to fight him on the way down.

*.*

"Y/n, you know I would be ecstatic if you'd told me you qualified for the Olympics. This is a huge step in my career! Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am! God, Harry, I am."

"Then why are you pulling away from me? I feel like I can't be excited about this around you when you're the one person who should understand how this feels."

"I can't do this. I can't have this argument with you," you said, trying to step away from him.

Harry was quick to grab your hands in his, keeping you from walking away. "What aren't you telling me? Do you want to break up?"

"No!

"Do you not love me anymore? What? What is it, Y/n?"

"God, I didn't—I didn't ask for this," you cried, feeling like a damn had burst inside you. It was out now, and now you had to see it through to the end. "I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I wasn't prepared to love you this much. You're the one who wanted to take things further, and now you're—"

You're leaving me, you couldn't bring yourself to say. You really were happy for him. All of his dreams were coming true, and he had an ambition that matched yours, which made you love him more. And now that ambition was taking him far away from you, and you weren't handling it as well as you thought you would.

"Y/n—"

"I'm happy for you, H, I'm so happy for you that I could burst. And maybe even a little jealous," you joked, though there was some truth to what you said. "But I guess I just...I guess I didn't expect to love you this much. And I don't—I don't know what to do because you're going soon and I'm..."

You had no clue, and that alone was terrifying.

At the start of all this, you never imagined falling in love with Harry. He drove you absolutely insane, and despite your physical attraction to him, you kept your distance. But he kept doing these things that made you like him, and eventually care about him, and finally made you fall in love with him. It just wasn't something you saw coming. Love was definitely not on the brain when you met Harry.

Because you knew this moment was inevitable. The moment when one of you would be given an opportunity you couldn't refuse and would pull you away from each other. Once upon a time, you thought you would be given your dream job of a lifetime—competitive skating and hopefully the Olympics—but somewhere down the line, skating stopped bringing you joy, only pressure and anxiety. And now Harry had his dream job on the other side of the country, and you were left to flounder and wonder how you would survive waking up without him next to you.

"You're making it seem like it's a bad thing that you're in love with me," Harry said quietly, but the low tone of his voice didn't hide anything. You knew he was getting upset. After all the avoidance the last week—on your part—yours and his emotions were coming to a head.

"It's not! It's just that you're leaving!" you said, resisting the urge to run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And all week you've talked about how excited to get out of here and leave this all behind and start a new chapter in your life. I mean, would it kill you to act like you're a little torn up about leaving?"

It was so selfish, and you knew it was. It was why you'd been avoiding Harry, this conversation. Harry had every right to be proud and ecstatic for leaving to play in the professional league. He worked so hard, pushed himself farther than anyone you'd ever met, except for maybe you. Your pain was clouding your good sense, and now you'd shown just how horrible you could really be.

You couldn't look him in the eye after saying what you did. Even if it was how you felt, you still felt ashamed for raining on Harry's parade. "Y/n—" he tried to say when you hastily wiped a tear from your eye.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry," you said, getting up from the couch and scurrying off to your bedroom.

Flopping on the bed, you pulled the covers over you, trying to hide from everything happening around you. It was too much. Your senior year was supposed to be fun and full of unforgettable memories, not arguments and heartache.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Harry slipped inside. He slid into bed next to you, and you didn't fight it when he rested his face in the crook of your neck. Because despite everything you were feeling, this was all you really needed.

"I'm not leaving you behind," he murmured gently. "You mean too much to me."

You sniffled, and Harry pulled you closer to his chest. "You're going to be thousands of miles away."

"Says who?" he said, kissing your cheek. "Who says you aren't coming with me?"

"And do what?" you huffed, even though the thought slightly lifted your spirits. "Be one of your...puck whatevers and follow you around like a puppy? I need a life of my own too."

You were being stubborn and argumentative and you both knew it. There was some relief in knowing Harry wanted you with him, but you also didn't want to just move because Harry was. You needed purpose, you needed to feel like your life had some sort of direction in it. But it was unfair to put all of that on Harry, and you didn't know how to express how you felt without sounding insane, so instead you said nothing, and that obviously went over brilliantly.

Harry chuckled. "See, because you just said how in love you are with me, I can tell that you're frosty attitude is just an act. Now turn over and look at me."

You reluctantly turned over, brow furrowed exaggeratedly because you couldn't cross your arms over your chest. It used to infuriate you how easily Harry could get under your skin because he knew you so well, that he knew just what to do or say to pull you out of a bad mood. In this moment, you were thankful. He could see past all the harsh words and see to the root of the problem. You'd said some things that were perhaps out of order, but Harry understood. Despite everything, he understood.

"You've worked just as hard as me, Y/n. I want to be there for you the way you've been for me. You can achieve your goals too."

"I just...I don't know if I want to achieve them anymore," you said quietly.

It was the first time you'd said it out loud. Since you'd learned to skate, there had only been one goal: the Olympics. Getting there wasn't just a matter of training, it was about devoting your life to your craft, it was barely having a life outside of training and competitions and giving all your time to winning. And after spending nearly your entire life doing it, you felt yourself slowly burning out. You'd go through your routines flawlessly, but your heart wasn't in it. All you could think about was the future—the next competition, the next training session, the next qualifier. It took seeing Harry so happy about being drafted to the minor leagues to realize the fire had gone out in you. Thinking of Olympic qualifiers and training and affording coaches and costumes and picking the right music only filled you with dread when you should've felt joy.

"Oh."

"But I don't know who I am if I don't have skating."

"You don't have to compete to skate, you know," Harry said. He rested his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your temple lightly. "You can c—"

"Oh God, don't say coach," you groaned. "It's perfect. You'll be a hockey superstar and I'll be the washed-up figure skater who couldn't handle the pressure of being an athlete and wound up coaching instead."

"I know you're being like this because you're scared, and that's okay," he said. "But I'll help you find a new dream, Y/n. I promise."

You had to blink away tears because your heart couldn't take how much he cared about you. "Even when I've been a complete bitch?"

"You haven't been. I'm sorry if you felt like I was leaving you behind. I guess in my mind we would always be together, no matter where we ended up."

"God I hate how much I love you sometimes," you grumbled while flinging yourself on top of Harry and holding him tight. "It's too much, you're too much, and I can't stand it—"

"There's a compliment in there somewhere, right?" Harry asked, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Sitting up, you perched yourself on him, your legs straddling his waist. Dipping down, you made sure your noses were brushing, but you didn't close the distance. Not yet. Your heart was racing simply because Harry had been so kind to you, because he knew you so well and said exactly what you needed to hear. It felt ridiculous to know that there was a time when he pissed you off so much you saw red, that his teasing remarks and cocky grin grated on your nerves. Now you didn't want to imagine a life without him.

"I'm sorry for saying all of those things," you murmured. "I really am proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do."

Harry's hand reached up and threaded through your hair, his fingers gentle as they passed over your scalp. "I know you are. And I mean it, Y/n. I'll help you. I know you love to skate, we just have to find a way to channel that into something else. If not coaching, maybe performing?"

"What? Like Disney on Ice?" you asked skeptically, your nose wrinkling at the thought.

Harry shrugged as his hand dipped beneath your shirt to stroke your back. "You'd be a cute princess."

"With my luck, they'd make me a tree."

"Then you'd be the cutest tree there ever was."

Shaking your head, you nudged your nose against his again. "Can we hit pause on talking about the future? I just want to be with you here. Right now."

"Course," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked grin. "And then maybe we can circle back to you being my puck whatever."

"Shut up."

"Make me!"

The children were finally asleep. It had been the entire routine of homework, bath time, bedtime prep, laying out their outfit for the next day before each of them got a bedtime story. They'd gotten back late from a soccer match and selfishly gotten the kids fast food on the way home because Y/N couldn't even think about cooking.

Her own stomach had growled loudly while cleaning up the kitchen, and Harry had laughed under his breath before giving her an innocent look when she grumbled at him for the action. It was these sort of things, the domestic and somewhat unromantic aspects of having a life partner that had surprised her with how much she loved it.

It was easy. Having Harry around made everything more fun, more bearable even at the tough moments. He had always been a good partner despite their tiffs, and that hadn't seemed to change in their 10 years together.

When he had insisted he finish cleaning while she took a shower, she had finally given in and let the hot water relax her muscles, the lavender body wash aiding in the experience before she applied lotion and pulled on a fresh set of pajamas. That was famously one of Harry's shirts and a pair of shorts that could pass for underwear.

"Made us food." He said as she walked into the kitchen. It was pasta. One plate of pasta. She gave him a look as he walked over to the dining table to place it down next to her glass of wine- has she mentioned she loved him?- and sat on the chair, spreading his thighs before patting his lap. "C'mon, mama. You're sleepy and showered. Let's share."

Y/N simply did as told. Too tired to fight, she collapsed on his lap with a hefty sigh, feeling him scoot the chair further in and bring the fork to her mouth to feed her the first bite. Alfredo pasta. Creamy, rich, and something they'd definitely be having as leftovers tomorrow.

"Guess I did alright?" He laughed at her moan, the clean fork falling back to the plate to get himself a bite.

"Mhm." She confirmed before swallowing, watching as he chewed the food before nodding. Yeah, it was exceptionally good. Out of the both of them, it had always made her grumble that he was the better cook- but now she was reaping the benefits.