FavHarriesfanficrecs

After reading through the first chapter, her throat ached less than it did the first time, she only messed up one word, and, this time, no coughs or snores interrupted her. While she was taking a sip from her water bottle, soft applause from the sparse crowd began, waking up the homeless man who had fallen asleep in the back row. It was a little louder today, a tiny accomplishment she’d convinced herself was important.

“I think we’ll open it up to questions, now,” the book seller prompted, nodding toward the crowd, where a few eager hands leapt up into the air. “Yes, the gentleman in red.”

Standing up, the young man tugged nervously on the hem of his red sweatshirt, a college logo stitched across his chest, pushing up his glasses as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, um- I’m an aspiring author myself, and I was wondering, what was the hardest part about getting your book signed?”

Charlie offered a pinched smile at the stranger, recalling her agent’s advice. The crowd's going to be mostly stragglers, people looking for a seat or people who want to know how to get their own books published. They’re not going to ask about the book, they don’t care about your book, they care about their book. At the time, the advice felt harsh yet realistic, and that was exactly why she had chosen Janet as her representation, so she would give her the hard truth. But Charlie had underestimated her warnings, a hopeful flutter that she would be different, that her debut novel would be an instant success. The childhood dream of a best selling book, of ending up on the New York Times’ Best Seller’s List, of having captivated the entire world with her story was a difficult one to let go of, at first. Reality’s harsh slap was still hard to face.

Fifteen stops into her book tour and she still hadn’t been asked a single question about her book.

“Well, personally, I thought the hardest part was selling the story. Publishers aren’t going to want to publish your book, you have to convince them that they want to publish your book. I’d recommend taking a course in sales, just to be safe,” she joked. Charlie had workshopped that one on the road between trips six and seven, having been asked some variation of the same thing over and over. If she were going to be answering the same questions, she might as well have her fun with it.

No one laughed.

“I’m already in business school,” the stranger deadpanned, his face scrunching in confusion.

“Right,” she nodded. She'd have to keep workshopping that one.

Hands shot back up in the air, more questions people want answered about their stories, their writing process, their struggles in getting published. While she sympathized with them, familiar with how it felt to be on the other side, she wanted more. She wanted questions that dug deeper into her character’s motivations, she wanted fans that asked about her writing process or about her inspirations, she wanted people who cared about her story an inkling as much as she did.

Years of work, countless late nights spent over her typewriter, careful with each letter pressed, weaving together the story of Ruby Wright and Jonathan James, old schoolmates who revisit the haunted house that plagued their morning walks to school. Both of them get trapped inside, having to relive their worst childhood memories until they can work through them and escape.

After mailing in her first draft to her publisher, it then took another year of back and forth with their in-house editor, tearing her story to shreds, removing segments she had lovingly crafted, using multiple bottles of whiteout to erase her hard work, scrubbing the whole book until it was unrecognizable. They knew better, though, she told herself, while reading one of the final drafts of her story which only retained half of the original work. If she wanted to be successful, she had to follow their advice. The final project ended up feeling like a shell of the story she had originally made, a doppelganger of her work, familiar but with an undercurrent of something foul and wrong. Yet it was still her baby, her precious, little child, and in the end, she was proud of herself for publishing it.

“Hi, um, my name’s Felicity,” the next person said, waving as they introduced themselves. “Which authors would you recommend reading?”

Again, Janet’s voice rings in her head. They don’t care about your answers, they just want to be told they’re reading the right things.

“I recommend reading anything you can,” she encouraged, her fake smile wavering a bit at the answer, “from Kurt Vonnegut to Stephen King to Kathleen Woodiwiss, anything's good so long as it gets your brain flowing.”

The guest sat back down, satisfied with the sanitized answer.

While Charlie was laying in the uncomfortable motel bed the previous night, she ran through the list of questions she wished she were being asked, rehearsing the answers she wanted to give. What section of the book was the hardest to write? The scene where Ruby had to watch herself lash out at her father the night before he died. What was your inspiration for the story? The book’s an attempt to solve a childhood mystery. Growing up near a haunted house, she wanted to brag, she always wondered what was inside. If you could change one thing about the book, what would it be? The romance at the end, the one thing she regretted letting her editor talk her into. But they said a woman-written story was a harder sell without romance, that it was expected of her sex, so she complied, manipulating the two leads into some corny romcom knockoff version of themselves.

Pointing towards the back, the book seller leaned to the right to make eye contact with her intended target, her beige cardigan slipping off her shoulder. “And you, sir, in the blue jacket in the back?”

He doesn't even stand. “Yes, I had a question regarding Ruby’s decision in chapter 28.”

Instantly, Charlie perked up in recognition, her spine straightening as she twisted in her seat, trying to get a good look at the first person to talk about her book. He knew the character's name and that was enough to make her believe she had a fan. Plus, that deep accent lured her in like honey to flies. “Yes?”

“Up until that point, Ruby had been very honest, almost obnoxiously so, but when she sees an opportunity to escape without Jonathan, she chooses to leave him behind, and at no point does she show remorse for this choice, nor do we see her face any consequences. Are we supposed to read Ruby as an unreliable narrator or did you forget about her entire character halfway though?” As soon as he's done asking, he leaned to the side, his smug face appearing behind one of the other attendees.

Harry Styles, one of the literary reviewers for the New Yorker, was currently sitting in at her author meet-and-greet, interrogating her on her story.

Most authors hoped to avoid the wrath of Styles' strict star system, his thoroughly scathing reviews known to tank a career before it began. And published just that morning, it was her turn to face his judgement.

Waking up extra early to avoid the New York crowds, braving the chilly dawn, she had picked up the brand new edition, the glossy paper crinkling between her fingers as Charlie read what he thought about her book.

This debut novel is hopefully the last time we'll be subjected to Charlotte Hewitt’s boring ideas and trite endings. Hewitt jumps around from scene to scene, never allowing the audience to just sit with the characters and get to know them, thus making them resemble shallow husks of people. Instead of making the audience reflect on their past, it leaves the reader with the question of why should I care? Why should I care to follow a couple of whiny twenty-somethings who spend most of the novel navel-gazing at each other instead of working through their childhood trauma like the book promises? The true horror isn’t in the house, it’s the sloppy writing within this book. ★☆☆☆☆

One hundred words is all it took to kill her career. If she had known it would be so easy, Charlie would’ve written them herself.

She hadn’t yet paid the newsstand for the magazine, and she wasn’t about to pay $2 to own this thorough ass-beating in print. So when the newsstand owner was helping another patron, Charlie had turned around, ripping out the page when a bus passed by, using the loud engine to cover up the sound of her crime. Then she stuffed the magazine back on the rack, crumbling the torn page between her fist and hiding it in her pocket. She hung around the stand a while longer, hoping she came off as inconspicuous before heading back to the motel, where she read the review until she had it memorized.

The worst part was she didn’t disagree. When she had first finished writing her book, she had been so eager to get it published, to finally realize her dream, it was only now that Charlie realized just how much of her story she had given up. She recalled the plotlines she dropped in favor of a romance she didn’t want, little moments that she was told bloated the story too much despite the details she thought they provided. Ruby’s addiction, for example, a trait that had to be erased in order for the book to sell, so she’d been told.

She almost cancelled the event today, wanting to wrap herself up in the shame of her first review instead of facing another lackluster crowd of disinterested readers. Until her emotions shifted.

Who the hell was Harry Styles? Why did he hold so much weight over her book? Who even reads the New Yorker? So what if he didn’t like it? If he couldn’t see the layers of depth she weaved into the story, it was his loss. That frustration built into something sharper, stronger, a surge of undue confidence powering her to get out of bed, put on the businesswoman attire her agent insisted she buy (It'll make you seem more professional!), and attend her book signing with her head held high.

Sitting in that cherry red plastic chair, staring down at the man responsible for her career death, Charlie felt all that frustrated energy return.

She recognized him from the tiny headshot they printed next to his review, smiling as if he was proud of his work, proud of his rating, proud of the decimation of her book. He’s wearing that same smile now, framed by his thick mustache, goading at her with a raised brow. His hair was cropped short up top with more length at the back. For a pompous asshole, he wasn’t dressed like one. With a blue windbreaker zipped up all the way, a pair of Wayfarer sunglasses sitting atop his head, he looked like he’s prepared to go to the gym, like his decision to ruin her event happened on a whim. His jeans were distressed with wear, the color washed out and the ends frayed. It was his shoes that broke the casual illusion, though. Leather loafers donned his feet, and not the fake stuff Charlie bought from thrift stores, real leather.

Someone cleared their throat, the crowd growing wary as Charlie sat there silently. Janet’s words rang through her head. If someone gets angry, or bored, just respond neutrally and deflect. We cause problems, we don’t sell books.

Charlie blinked once, twice, buying herself some time, trying to come up with an answer, completely unprepared to defend her book in front of an audience. “I-um…” she stalled, tugging on the sleeves of her blazer before clearing her throat. “I think it shows how sometimes, our um,” she swallowed, starting over. “It shows how, in certain situations, people can be pushed to a point of breaking… parts of themselves th-that they thought were um… really important to them. We’ve all gone through… something like that, right?” She nodded, like it would add more levity to her answer.

“Sure, but,” he argued back, sitting up in his seat, “Ruby is rewarded for this behavior. Jonathan still loves her even after she almost abandoned him to die, no question?”

Sensing the brewing tensions, the bored crowd grew more interested, looking between the two of them.

“Maybe Jon um…” she paused, waving her hand around to try to make an answer appear. “Maybe Jon is more forgiving than you give him credit for. Let's move on to someone else,” Charlie nodded at the book seller, who had also become enrapt with their dispute.

“Oh!” she squeaked, running a hand through her brunette waves. “Yes, that's right, more questions.” She clapped her hands together, like a teacher getting her students' attention.

No hands raised. Harry's questions broke the illusion that Charlie knew what she was doing. They didn't want to take advice from a bad author. The longer the silence remained, the more awkward and embarrassed Charlie felt, shifting nervously in her seat.

Then an arm in the back, with a blue jacket sleeve, tentatively lifted into the air, his smirk barely restrained.

The book seller looked back to Charlie, wide-eyed before turning back to the audience. “Yes, sir?”

“I had another question regarding chapter 16. Unless, of course, Miss Hewitt isn't interested in answering my questions,” Harry said, placing a hand over his chest in a mockery of insult, offering her a foxlike smile.

Swallowing down the insults she wanted to yell at him, Charlie held back her eye roll as she nodded her head. “Go on.”

“You said Jon is more forgiving?”

“Yes. Next-”

“But chapter 16 is him dealing with the fact he hasn't forgiven his mother for walking out on him and his dad, and then Ruby abandons him, and that doesn't affect him?” Harry questioned. “Why not?”

The real answer was because the scene had been deleted, discarded to streamline the romance ending her publisher wanted. When the story was first written, it was a moment of testing their friendship, showing a relationship pushed to the very brink after a very tense fight. But when the romance had been added, the fight had been dropped in favor of a sex scene her publisher had insisted on. What had meant to be a commentary on the limits of friendship and loyalty, had become, as Harry pointed out, a completely out of character moment for an otherwise honest do-gooder like Ruby. She remembered the note her editor left in the margins, a red pen slashing through the pages. Don't need all this, it's going to bore them.

“Well, the point of him going through that was so he could learn how to forgive his mom, so that's how he can forgive Ruby.”

“That doesn't come through in the writing.” He shook his head. “The book feels too rushed, like it's racing toward this ending it hasn't earned.”

“According to you,” she mumbled too loudly, the words slipping out.

Surprised intrigue flashed across his face before a bite of laughter came out like a scoff. “Excuse me?”

Clenching her hands together tighter, Charlie stared down at him, her gaze blazing with simmering rage. “Did you ever consider that maybe you’re not the target audience of this book, and that’s why it didn’t connect with you. It’s not a story meant for those who are, y'know, devoid of human emotions.”

A susurrus of laughter bubbled among the crowd, covering their mouths in an attempt to mask the sound, to make sure they didn't miss anything. Their entertainment did nothing to soothe Charlie’s anger, though, fury radiating off her skin like steam.

“Oh, so you want people without brains to read your story?”

“No, I want people who have empathy to read it.”

“Yet, you don’t give empathy to your characters,” he challenged. “If you wanted people to empathize with Ruby, you should’ve made her a real character, not this infallible, selfish person who gets rewarded for her shitty behavior.”

“And what would you like me to do about that now,” she nearly shouted through her clenched teeth, scooping up the bits of her remaining professionalism to tack on a pointed, “…sir?”

Harry looked around the room, at the audience who was drawn into every syllable, enjoying the fight like it’s prime time. Lifting his shoulders in an arrogant shrug, he said, “Write a better book next time.” Then, he stood up, and walked away, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. He couldn't even do her the courtesy of leaving. Instead, he lingered around the book shelves, perusing through the aisles like he was going to buy something, straggling close enough to overhear the silence he had left behind.

Charlie’s body vibrated with furious shame. The crowd, without their provided entertainment, lost their interest once again, their attention waned, looking for something new to preoccupy them. Harry had convinced them that she’s a fraud, their already low opinion of her had stooped even lower. That public beatdown was certainly not going to convince anyone to buy her book.

The kid in the red sweater got up and jogged after Harry, pulling a small notepad out of his pocket, nervously handing it over to him. Charlie watched as Harry nodded with a smile, looping the pen across the blank page before offering the young man a handshake.

She couldn't fucking believe it, he was giving an autograph at her book signing.

“Um… I think…” the book seller stammered, scrambling to think of what to do next, but Charlie was already standing up, walking off the platform, her kitten heels clicking on the wood. “Um… we’re going to take a ten minute break and then we’ll have a table ready for autographs with the author if anyone would like to snag a copy-”

Charlie made her way to the back of the book store, entering into the Employees Only room, where she had previously stashed her purse. It was no movie star green room, but applying her hot pink lipstick in the finger-streaked mirror, she had felt something akin to that level of stardom, deluding herself that this event would be different, this would be the one to change everything.

In a way, she wasn’t wrong.

Tearing through her faux leather handbag, her hands brushed over old gas station receipts, gum wrappers, and a bunch of other trash she always said she was gonna deal with but never did. When she still couldn’t find her cigarettes, she gripped the bottom of the bag, where a large crack ripped across the fabric, turning it over and shaking out all of its contents, letting her things spill onto the linoleum as she searched for the carton. Eventually, it tumbled out, landing on top of the pile of garbage, the cellophane wrap making it appear shiny in the fluorescent light. Grabbing the box, she opened it to reveal all that remained were the old, spent filters.

“Dammit,” she cursed, throwing the box across the room, clattering uselessly on the ground. Leaving the mess where it lay, she headed for the exit, leading into an alley between shops, hoping she could find a stranger who’d be willing to bum her a cigarette.

Charlie hated thinking about how many strangers she owed for their past generosity. The publisher wanted to spend as little money on this book tour as possible, so all the costs fell on Charlie's shoulders to pay. Still, she was determined to do whatever it took despite the hardships. Traveling on the road by yourself sounds fun until you're living it. It wasn’t living in motel rooms and surviving off of fast food that was killing her spirit, it was this constant feeling of waiting, of being stuck in the same loop, wondering when something was going to change.

Her days consisted of waking up on a lumpy mattress, letting the shitty free coffee brew while she showered, brushing her teeth at the same time. Then she’d be out on the road, her Aviators blocking out the harsh sun as she drove across America in her Ford Pinto. The windows would be down because the AC was broken, the state map would be laid out across the passenger seat, held down by cassette tapes and greasy fast food bags, and Charlie would belt out Heart’s new single every time it came on the radio, her voice discordant with Ann Wilson’s. Whenever she'd stop at gas stations, she’d have her fingers crossed that she’d have a dollar to spare so she could buy a pack of Pall Malls. More times than not, she wouldn’t. Thus began her ongoing streak of asking strangers, relying on sheer dumb luck that she’d find some kind soul generous enough to be willing to part with one.

Of course, she wouldn’t be so lucky today.

“Hey.” The accent that had lured her in earlier, now scratched along her back like nails on chalkboard. Leaning up against the wall, cigarette dangling between his lips, was Harry Styles, again.

“You fucking dickweed!” Charlie slammed the door shut, stomping over to him with an accusatory finger pointed at him. Without an audience, she felt free to truly rip into him. “What’s your fucking problem, dude?”

“Whoa, I don’t-” he tried to interject, but she didn’t let him get another word in.

“Who the fuck do you think are? Who died and made you the fucking king of literature? Do you get off on ridiculing people in public, is that it? How often are you doing this shit, huh? Stalking people whose careers you just ruined and then harassing them in front of an audience just to get your rocks off. You’re fucking sick dude, like mentally or something.” He raised a finger, but she continued. “No, and y’know what else, the idea that you're some fucking paradigm of reading, like if we don't please the Book Overlord, then-then our careers are fucking over? That's it, game over, man? Who gave you that authority?” Harry breathed smoke out through his nose, making her itch stronger, only frustrating her more. “And what do you know about writing a book, huh? You only write a paragraph- a hundred words a week, and you think that's an accomplishment? Middle schoolers do that for homework, okay? And just because you think my book is shit, it doesn't mean I do. It doesn't mean someone else won't like it, so who gives a shit what your opinion is? Because who the hell even are you?!”

His brows raised, Harry’s face was otherwise unchanged as he looked down at her, not swayed a bit by her rant. Plucking the cigarette from his lips and releasing a thick plume of smoke, he asked, “Are you done?”

“Blow me!”

“Anything else?”

Releasing a forceful breath, Charlie crossed her arms across her chest. “No.”

“Okay. Can I say something?”

Eyeing the cigarette between his fingers, she bit her lip then sighed. “Only if you give me a cig.”

Harry shook his head, taking another pull. “It's my last one, unless you feel like sharing.” With a smirk, he breathed out the smoke slowly, teasing her with the slow exhale of swirling, grey clouds, extending the half spent drag to her.

Charlie took it without thinking, her need outweighing her pride. The smoke bloomed in her lungs, extending throughout her body in an instant relief of bliss, closing her eyes as she savored the burn. She took her time releasing the smoke from inside, making it linger, unsure of when she'd next feel its gentle embrace. “Go ahead,” she said in a wispy voice, smoke weaving around her teeth as she spoke.

He watched her for a moment, transfixed as her lips curled around the cigarette again, wrapping around the same spot where her lipstick had imprinted into the paper.

“Did you actually forget about Jon’s abandonment issues-” Charlie rolled her eyes, already dreading giving him this much allowance. “-or did your editor tell you to get rid of it?”

Her head quirked to the side, looking him up and down, considering whether to answer truthfully or not. “Why?”

“Because if you forgot about it, then you’re a bad writer. That’s fixable, at least, you could take a class or something,” he said, taking his cigarette back. When he stretched out his arms, Charlie caught the curve of a tattoo jutting out past his watch, concealed by his sleeve. “But if you let your editors convince you to remove a crucial plot point, then that’s worse.”

“Worse how?”

His brow twitched knowingly, catching onto what she wasn't saying. Staring her down, his eyes hardened as he said, “It means you’re spineless.”

Charlie's jaw dropped, taking a step back from him. “Excuse you?!”

Nodding his head, Harry said, “Yeah, you let someone else tell you how your story should be told, published it in that sloppy state, and expected to be praised for compromising like a good, little girl.” He sneered at the last bit, his face scrunched up in mockery. “Well, news flash, you don't have the talent to hide your mistakes and you apparently don't have the backbone to fight for your ideas either, so getting out now, before you make a real fool of yourself, is for the best, really.”

“H-how dare you?!” Mouth agape, Charlie scrambled to come up with a rebuttal, some defense of her book, but he had her dead to rights. Back then, she justified it, telling herself that once she was published, then afterwards, she could write books the way she wanted. Once she was established, she could argue back, fight for the story she wanted to write. But that was all assuming she’d even get that far. “You don't… you don't know me.”

“No, but I know a million people like you,” he pushed back, “who settle, who let others tell them what to do, and they expect that by following all the rules, they'll be handed everything they ever wanted just like that.” He snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. “Without going through any suffering, or struggles at all.”

“You have no idea what I've been through-”

“No, but I can tell you what your book says about you. You think we should forgive everyone and hold hands singing Kumba-fucking-ya, like it's an episode of ‘The Brady Bunch’ or something. And if I'm not the right demographic, then you might wanna drop that scene with Jonathan's rippling abdominals, that's not exactly kid appropriate.”

With a groan, she snatched the cigarette back. “God, don't remind me of that scene.”

“See, that's what I mean!” he exclaimed, laughing when she glared up at him through her lashes. “You shouldn't be upset that a scene exists in your book.”

“Oh, and you're such an expert?” she said sarcastically, speaking around the drag.

“That's what my paychecks say.”

“Then why haven't you written your own book? If you think it's so easy, why stick to writing reviews?” Lifting her hand to her mouth and faking a gasp, Charlie took on a mocking tone. “Is it because all you're good at is criticizing others and you don't have any original ideas of your own?”

Harry scoffed, though something unpleasant twinged across his face. “For your information, I am writing my own book. I just don't want to rush it.”

Charlie let out a harsh clap of laughter that echoed off the brick walls. “So you're paid to criticize people who are doing the very thing you're too scared to do yourself. How ironic. No wonder no one can live up to your standards, you can't even meet them yourself.”

“Now hang on,” he growled, but Charlie didn't give him the space to argue.

“No, y’know what, thank you,” she said, grabbing his hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Truly, I mean that, thank you, it means so much to know that I've accomplished something you won't. You've really turned my day around, so thank you for that.” Pulling one last hit from the cigarette, she flicked the remainder into a nearby puddle, letting the rest of it degrade in the water. “If you’d like a book signed by a published author, feel free to stop by, I'll be here until 6.” Smug and self-satisfied, she turned to go back into the store, her head held high.

“You're still just a spineless bitch!” Harry called after her, scowling as his last cigarette disintegrated in the water.

Grabbing onto the doorway, she gave him an arrogant smirk. Resorting to name calling meant he had no rebuttal, it meant she won. Victorious, Charlie parted from him with, “And so are you.”

The pointed tip of Charlie's kitten heels pinched her toes together with each step, making the walk back to the motel agonizing. Charlie would have to hope she could find the time to stop by a thrift store before her next stop, hope she'd have enough money to buy some shoes that actually fit, to make her walk of shame from the book store less excruciating. She'd hate to have to call her mom again and ask for another loan, no matter how often her mom reassured her it was fine.

After leaving Harry in that alleyway, Charlie had felt like she was walking on air heading back into the bookstore. For the first five minutes, that elation carried her through the empty signing, eventually sliding back into that sour emotion she was used to, and wallowing in it for the remaining hour. Usually, she'd use the free hour to imagine a different outcome, one where her headshot wasn't from the JCPenney's photo studio, one where her publisher believed in her story enough to finance the book tour, one where she didn't have the time to think of what-could've-beens.

Once again, no one stopped to ask for an autograph, no one bought her book. At this point, it seemed the only people who owned a copy of her book were herself, her mother, and Harry Styles. She wondered if Harry should even count, since he didn't buy the book, it was sent to him for free from her publisher, a special copy delivered to him. Knowing how strongly he felt about the story, she wouldn't be surprised if he had already burned it, banishing her work to hell.

Now that her uninterrupted hour was up, Charlie was headed back for the motel, for another restless night on an uncomfortable bed, the drone of the television rocking her to sleep.

Except she couldn't get Harry's words out of her head.

Write a better book next time.

You're spineless.

His harsh commentary clung to the crevices of her brain, rooting themselves in the grooves, sowing more seeds of doubt. Charlie had always figured that getting published first would be the hard part, that if she could surpass this one roadblock, that it would be smooth sailing from then on. She believed getting her name out there was most important, that she could focus on the quality later, once she had established herself. Harry's perspective made her question her beliefs.

Would it have been better to fight for the version of the story she wanted to be told? Had she blinded herself with the gilded allure of fame and fortune only to sacrifice her vision?

Maybe her plan was flawed, not as thought out as she had once believed, but it was too late to be worrying about the mistakes she might've made. The book was published, it was already out there, there was nothing she could do about it now. What she needed to focus on was getting Harry's obnoxious accent out of her head.

So when she turned onto the street where her motel loomed, instead of turning in and locking herself away for the night, keeping the cockroaches on the ceiling company, she detoured over to the even seedier looking pub across the street, the flickering neon sign calling to her like a moth to a flame. Stained glass windows adorned the top of the building, high enough to not risk breaking during a bar fight, dark mold crowding around the edges. Years of vomit stains littered the ground, long since baked into the concrete, their crude smell revived under the hot sun. Smoke wafted out from the door as someone slipped out, fisting some change from their pocket as they stumbled over to the payphones on the corner of the street.

Charlie knew the only way she would be able to afford a drink or two was if someone took pity and bought them for her. Sneaking off to the side of the building, she fished out her compact mirror, assessing her makeup with a critical eye underneath the overhead light. Her foundation had started to melt in some places but the low lights of the bar would help to cover that up. Reapplying another layer of lipstick, she made sure none of it spread to her teeth before flipping her head back and forth, causing her curly hair to poof out more. Tugging off her blazer jacket, she pulled out the additional shoulder pads she had added on with velcro, stuffing the puffy fabric down the front of her dress, adjusting her breast to make the enlarged curve appear more natural. Satisfied with her enhancements, Charlie patted her bolstered breasts for good luck and headed inside.

The pub carried the exact level of grime Charlie was looking for. Dusty fingerprints collected on top of the jukebox, something sticky on the floor clung to the bottom of her heels, and the man at the bar looked as if he’d been working there all his life. There was a permanent haze of smoke, the smell thick as she walked through it. Most of the patrons were older men with graying beards and burgeoning beer bellies. They were nursing their second or third drink, inebriated enough to become pliable in Charlie's hands. Here is where she would find someone who would make her forget all about non-existent book sales and asshole British reviewers.

Casting a glance around the room, she looked for her target, the man she could temporarily woo long enough to get a couple of free drinks when she spotted an all too familiar face, and his stupid blue jacket draped across the table.

In the back of the pub, hiding away in a booth, Harry leaned in to whisper to the older woman sitting next to him, her manicured hand covering her mouth as she giggled. His fingers were already weaving into her dyed red hair, twirling the wispy strands to pull her closer into him. They were sitting so close together, they were passing breaths between them. Her leopard print dress was so tight on her body, her large boobs squished up against her chest in a ridiculously obscene way, and Harry kept unsubtly peeking at them.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Charlie muttered to herself before storming over to his booth, raising her voice so she could be heard over the Billy Joel song booming from the speakers. “So what, you're actually stalking me now?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“No, this is some serial killer shit, like what the hell is wrong with you?” Turning to the red head beside him, Charlie gave the older woman a warning. “You need to watch out for him.”

“Don't talk to her,” he snarled but Charlie ignored him. Stuck physically in between them, the woman's head swiveled back and forth, trying to keep up with both conversations.

“He's been following me around all day, harassing me-”

“No, I haven't!”

“He's seriously disturbed!”

“Shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you dick!”

“You’re the one who followed me, creep! I was here first!”

“Yeah, probably waiting for your prey to show up!”

“Is there a problem here?”

Spinning around, Charlie found herself face to face with the bartender. His long white hair was tied back in a ponytail, his shirt was completely clean of any stains, and his glare was as sharp as the knife on his belt, his thumb grazing along the handle in a quiet threat.

“We’re fine, Cliff,” Harry said with a tight voice, his finger tapping impatiently against the table, suddenly aware of the crowd that was watching the whole altercation.

Cliff crossed his arms across his chest, giving them all a disapproving glance. “Well, I suggest we all decide if we wanna shut the fuck up and buy a drink or if we wanna get the fuck out of here.”

"Yeah, I think I'm going to leave,” the red head said, grabbing onto her purse straps as she stood up. With a pointed look, she knocked her shoulders in Charlie's, leaving behind a trail of her powerful perfume.

“Penny, wait.” Harry called after her, but she was already making a beeline for the door, not bothering to look back. Releasing a sigh, he hung his head dejectedly.

“And what about you, miss?” Cliff asked, turning all his attention onto Charlie. “Are you staying or going?”

“Um…” Licking her lips, Charlie looked around the bar, avoiding the gaze of everyone watching. She could pull out her wallet, dramatically count up all her spare change, make a larger spectacle than she already had, but she had been embarrassed enough for one day. “I'll um…” From the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry shift in his seat, only making her embarrassment sharpen. She sighed in defeat, looking down at her feet. “I'll be goi-”

“Get her something cheap and put it on my tab.”

Charlie didn't dare look at him, pursing her lips to hold back the curse on the tip of her tongue. Did he believe swooping in to save her like a knight in shining armor was supposed to win her over, that it was going to make her forgive him for earlier?

Cliff uncrossed his arms, raising a bushy brow at Harry. “You mean you're actually gonna pay your tab?”

“I mean, eventually,” Harry shrugged, a friendly smile pulling on his lips. “C'mon, Cliff, I owe her.”

“Now that I believe,” Cliff said with a deep chuckle. With the bartender put at ease, the regulars returned to their own conversations, complaining about the humdrum of their lives or repeating jokes from last night’s episode of Cheers. Cliff patted her shoulder as he passed by, “Anyone who keeps him in line is welcome here.”

Shuffling in her spot, Charlie remained standing, pretending to play with her purse strap, pretending to be interested in the music transitioning from Billy Joel to Roy Orbison, pretending Harry's stare wasn't burning into the side of her head.

“You could say thank you.”

That made her turn around, scowling at him. “And you could be less of an asshole.”

“And I could change my mind about the beer,” he threatened. When Charlie offered him no rebuttal, he indicated to the seat across from him in offering, moving his jacket off the table, and into the empty space beside him.

Not willing to put her drink at risk, Charlie repented, sliding across the vinyl seat. “… Thank you.” Her feet knocked into his as she slid across the bench, but he said nothing about it, taking a sip from his own beer.

Cliff returned, only remaining long enough to twist off the top of the chilled Budweiser bottle, before returning to the bar. Charlie had an easier time thanking Cliff than she did Harry, sounding much more sincere in her gratitude. Lifting the bottle to her lips, the alcohol doesn’t even burn her throat on the way down.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Harry pulled out a new box of cigarettes, tearing the cellophane tab off. Charlie couldn’t stop her gaze from following his hands as they plucked out a fresh drag, bringing it up to his lips, making her skin feel itchy with need. Trying to curb her desire, Charlie took a long swig of her drink, waiting for the buzz to kick in, to muddle her desires. His thumb flicked across the lighter, sparking to life as he lit the cigarette. The smoke unfurled from the burning tip, floating up towards the light above. Charlie tracked its movement as it stretched, swirling in the lampshade before dissipating.

Still, Harry says nothing, occasionally swiveling his head between the cigarette in one hand and the beer in the other. Charlie tapped the table with her nail, antsy for him to say something, anything! He didn’t even offer her a pull from the cigarette, hoarding the cancer stick all to himself.

While waiting for him to do something, she watched him through the cigarette haze. In the soft yellow light, his harsh features had softened. The pale green eyes that had accosted her from across a room with a burning passion had simmered, dragging over her with mild interest. When his rosy pink lips wrapped around the filter and he breathed in the nicotine, his face slimmed marginally, making his jawline appear more defined. Then he brought the bottle up, his facial hair shaping around the lip of the drink. He wore a black knit sweater, the collar of a button down sticking out the top, a much more refined look than his jacket advertised.

Charlie wasn’t sure how long she sat there, how long she entertained his ignorance, how long she remained his silent company before she started to feel like a fool. She found herself asking what she was doing here? Why was she giving in to him? Was he just wasting more of her time, and if so, why?

Eventually, she sighed, reaching for her belongings laid out beside her. “Well, thank you for the drink, but I think I’m gonna go-”

“That scene when Ruby sees her mom in the hospital, and for a moment, her mom becomes her grandma? Was that just to show the repeated cycle of death or did your editor cut something there?”

Charlie’s eyes shot back up to him, a feeling reminiscent of that hopeful flutter in her chest from the signing beating in her chest again. It was indescribable, the instant connection she felt with him when he mentioned details from her book, her story tethering them together, like a secret amongst friends. His knowledge of something that existed only in her head for so long, something he and only a handful of other people knew about, made her feel like he knew an intimate part of herself. “You… noticed that?”

“Of course I did. I read the bloody awful thing, didn’t I?”

The back and forth was going to give her whiplash. He played with her feelings like a cat, baiting her with questions about her story to keep her around for long enough to ambush her with his criticism. “Is it impossible for you to keep your thoughts to yourself?”

Bringing the cigarette to his lips, he flicked his eyes up to her as he inhaled, his cheeks sucked in, elongating his face. Releasing the smoke with a barely contained smirk, he raised a brow as his heated gaze ran over her body before locking back onto hers, his shoulders lifting casually. “Sometimes.” He let the word hang in the space between them, let it marinate in the tension, before shifting his gaze. “But, seriously, the hospital…”

She didn’t want to answer him. There had to be some trap he was laying, ready to snap and make her doubt her writing skills but then she asked herself When will there be another opportunity to talk about my book? So, Charlie conceded. “Yeah, that was meant to show that Ruby's repeating the same patterns as her mom. She doesn't want to be like her mom, but her mom didn't want to be like her mom. There was going to be this throughline about addiction running through her family and I wanted to have Ruby see herself in the hospital bed, but uh…” Charlie paused, before begrudgingly admitting, “…my editor said to drop it.”

“Really?” Harry asked incredulously, a laugh tacked on at the end. “Who the fuck is this editor and why the hell did you go with him?”

“I didn’t choose her, she’s my publisher’s editor.”

“And who's your publisher?”

“Pony Club Publishing.”

He huffed out a breath of smoke. “Never heard of them.”

She was long used to that answer, along with giving her usual response. “They're a small publisher from Iowa focusing on uplifting new voices-”

“No, I'm saying, I haven't heard of them, which means you’re wasting your time being signed with them,” Harry said. “You’re better off getting signed to one of the big publishers before My Little Pony Publishing goes out of business.”

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, that sounds nice, in theory. But it’s not so simple,” she explained. “They have to want to sign you.” Talking about it brought up those hurt feelings, the months of rejection letter after rejection letter. As the rejections piled higher, she wondered if she should quit, her dreams unachievable, her writing subpar. When the letter from Pony Club Publishing came in, eager to publish her work, Charlie thought she was finally about to make her dream a reality.

Harry shrugged, unmoved by her explanation. “Doesn’t sound that hard.”

Lifting her beer, Charlie pressed the chilled bottom to her forehead, hoping it would help cool the angry heat rising in her body. “Sure, yeah, y’know what, you’re right, I wasted months of my life trying to get my book published when I should’ve just gotten signed the very first time. Thank you for the advice.”

“I’m pretty sure if you had dropped that shitty romance, it would’ve been picked up sooner,” he said confidently.

She laughed mirthfully, cocking her head to the side. “Shows what you know. The publisher insisted on the romance ending.”

“Are you serious? Is your publisher allergic to good ideas?”

“Careful, you almost said I have good ideas,” Charlie pointed out, finishing off her drink.

Again, he shrugged. “Never said you didn’t.”

Charlie barked a laugh so loud, it rang out throughout the whole bar, making Harry blush furiously as people turned to stare at them. “You made an absolute fool of me, ridiculing me in front of an audience, telling everyone I’m a shitty writer-”

“I never said that.” He took a deep sip of his drink nonchalantly.

“You said I should write a better book.”

Swallowing down his beer, he hummed, nodding his head. “Yeah, better than whatever the hell it was you published, but the idea itself was sound.”

That made Charlie pause. The first compliment her book received and it was wrapped in utter contempt.

Harry took her silence as permission to continue. “When I read your synopsis, I was hooked,” he said. “I wanted to like it, but then it sucked, like really, it blew chunks.” Charlie's face drooped, annoyed with his constant need to attack. “And yet, I still keep thinking about it, like there’s something just beneath the surface that I’m missing. Turns out, there is, but you let yourself be talked out of those interesting ideas and cowered to your publisher, even though I can't think of a single other book they've published.”

His argument made too much sense. Charlie had been so excited to be signed, she ignored a lot of warning signs and she had complied all too willingly. Never once had she considered they had no idea what they were doing. Because Harry was right, what other books had they published? Charlie remembered the promotional material they sent once she agreed to work with them, with a list of names touted as their other clients, proof of their success. But as she racked her brain, none of the names were familiar, not a single title recognizable.

“And that's why I'm waiting to publish my own book, so I don't make rookie mistakes like that.”

Just like that, all her self-pitying vanished. Harry wasn't being helpful, he wasn't earnestly offering her advice, he was just being a dick!

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, is that the excuse you tell yourself? Y’know, it's really fucking pathetic to act all high and mighty about people making mistakes while they do the very thing you're too scared to do yourself.” His smug smile disappeared, his dimples melting back into his cheeks while he glared at her. “You're such a fucking hypocrite, criticizing the people who put themselves out there, who actually share their stories, all while you pretend like you're holding onto this bullshit literary ‘masterpiece' that no one is going to read, because you don't want to face the re-fucking-ality that your book might ‘blow chunks’ too.”

“It’s not going to blow, because-”

“You don’t know that! And you never will if you never publish it! But that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Charlie propped her arms up on the table, leaning closer to him, her voice dropping low into something threatening. “It’s safer to not get it published, because in your mind, it’s a fucking hit, it’s an instant best-seller. And even though you try to talk yourself down, and say that you’d be satisfied with a couple of sales, so long as people really enjoyed the book, there’s the possibility it doesn’t. There’s the possibility that your book doesn’t sell a single copy, that no one gives a shit about it. But, so long as you don’t publish it, you can remain in the fantasy that you’re a better writer than you actually are.”

Harry’s eyes blazed with fury, his nostrils flared with each deep, fiery breath that forced itself out. He sat in his booth glaring at her from across the table, frozen in his rage.

A sense of pride bolstered Charlie’s mood, feeling a smidge better having put Harry in his place. Satisfied with herself, Charlie grabbed her purse, lifting the straps onto her shoulder, before shuffling across the bench seat.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?”

“To the bathroom,” Charlie answered. “And I don't trust you to not go through my shit.” Seeing the cigarette between his fingers, she let her impulsivity win and she snatched the drag from his fingers, taking a long deep inhale before shoving the remainder into his beer.

He rolled his eyes as she walked past him, into the darkened hallway behind him, dirty signs pointing towards the restrooms. Charlie didn’t have to go, she just needed to steal a moment away for herself, to indulge in the vanquishing of her foe. There were two doors at the end of the hall, the right one closed shut with a sickly wet sloshing sound coming from behind it, and the left one slightly ajar and blessedly silent. Shutting the door, Charlie went to lock it only to discover the lock was broken, perpetually spinning the knob to no avail. Giving up, Charlie threw her purse to the ground, throwing her head back as her lips trilled in exasperation.

The bathroom smelt horrifically bad. A couple bugs fluttered around the light, attracted to the bulbs. Years of pee stained the urinal until the porcelain was no longer white and the toilet looked just as filthy. Fingerprints crowded the mirror’s edge, creating a halo.

Walking up to the sink, Charlie turned on the faucet, wetting her fingertips. Looking at her reflection, she pressed her dripping fingers to her forehead, releasing a little groan at the chilled relief. Droplets fell from the top of her head, cascading down her face, tracing around the curves of her cheeks before falling into the basin below.

What was his fucking problem? And what were the odds that Harry just so happened to come to the same bar that was across from her motel? He seemed to be close with the bartender, implying some kind of friendship. Honestly, she was surprised he was capable of making friends. And why did he keep pretending to be interested in her book? Did he really think she had good ideas or was that just a lie? Her mind ran through a million thoughts per minute, trying to puzzle the enigma that was Harry Styles.

Running her hand under the running water again, she repeated the motion, closing her eyes, sighing with a moan, when the door slammed open, startling her.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Harry bellowed, storming up to her with a stern finger.

“What the fuck?!”

“Just because you’re book is a failure-”

“Get out of here!”

“-doesn’t mean mine will be!”

Charlie snorted as she spun to face him, meeting his fierce gaze with her own. “Oh, did I hit a nerve?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“No!” he argued, his voice pitching defensively before he cleared his throat. “No, you’re just upset that your book-”

“Jesus, you’re obsessed!”

“-was a fucking disaster-”

“You are such a-”

“-and you’re hoping that I-”

“-fucking coward, dude!”

“-end up just- did you call me a coward?”

“Yes, I did!”

Harry huffed out an annoyed laugh. “If I'm a fucking coward, then so are you!”

“Okay,” she shrugged, unbothered by his insult. “Guess we’re both fucking cowards.”

“You're a coward who doesn’t stand for anything.”

“And you're a coward who doesn't go for what he wants.”

“Really?” he seethed, his teeth clenched tightly, stepping closer, encroaching onto her personal space.

Nodding her head, Charlie smirked up at him, repeating herself. “Yup, you're a fucking coward who doesn't go for what he wants and-”

She doesn't get the chance to finish her sentence because Harry's lips smashed into hers, his lips colliding against her teeth before connecting with her lips. The force of the kiss pushed her, taking a step back which Harry matched, intruding into her space. Charlie took another step and so did Harry, repeating the pattern until the sink basin hit the base of her spine, gasping into Harry’s mouth in surprise.

Charlie was acting on pure instinct, naturally responding to the kiss. He tasted so strongly of cigarette smoke, her addiction felt satiated just from his breath. It made her pull him in closer, trying to inhale every bit she could. Her hands dragged through his cropped hair, twisting the short strands in her grip, keeping him there. She could feel his hands move over her body, curving around her hips, cupping her ass and squeezing at the flesh, making her moan.

Harry went to pull back but Charlie followed after him, dipping her tongue out to run across his bottom lip. It’s not until Harry grabbed her chin, his fingers pinching into her cheeks so hard that she had to let him go, whimpering at the loss.

Blinking her eyes open, she’s confronted with something terrifyingly attractive. His lips were shiny with her spit, his hair disheveled from her hand, and his pupils were blown out, making his heady gaze more intense. Then a smirk pulled on his lips. “Still think I’m a coward?”

She didn't want to answer him, her prideful ego not wanting to kowtow to his smug question. A part of her wanted to slug him, and leave. But when his grip tightened, pressing harder on her jaw, testing her limits, she couldn't stop the whine, couldn't stop the clenching of her thighs, couldn't stop the word slipping out pathetically. “Yes.”

“Oh, yeah?” he taunted, tilting her head to the side. Charlie let him, pliant under his touch. Leaning in, Harry's nose trailed up her jawline until his lips were at her ear, whispering, “What makes you say that?” Then, with a low growl, he nipped at her lobe, teething at the skin before releasing with a hot breath.

Charlie shivered when his teeth made contact, swallowing down the moan that dared to escape her. Her brain fought for her to think rationally, reminding her of who he was, the insults he had thrown at her, but her pussy didn't care about any of that. “Is-is that… is that all you wanted?” she panted, trying to sound like she still had a semblance of control over the situation. “Just a-a shitty little kiss? Or are you still holding yourself back?”

His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, his smoky breath fanning across her collar bone before he clicked his tongue. “Oh I'd love to do more to you, kitten.” Thrusting his hips forward, Charlie gasped at the bulge in his pants that pressed into her pelvis. “Got me all riled up over here. I swear, I've spent half of the day imagining my cock down your throat, just to get you to shut up.” Harry rolled his hips into hers, humping her leg like a dog.

She was salivating at the thought, her own hips starting to move against his, desperately seeking any kind of friction to relieve the ache between her thighs. When she couldn't find any, she petulantly stomped her foot, a weak mewl eking out.

“What is it, kitten?” Harry hiked her leg around his hip, causing her dress to ride up her body, spreading her open more. “You have to use your big girl words and tell me what you want.” Lifting his leg, he pressed his thigh into the open space, forcing her still but the pressure did offer her a modicum of pleasure.

“Y-you can’t-” Charlie swallowed, starting over. “You can’t tell what I want?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Charlie could feel tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She needed some solace from the arousal twisting in her belly. Her hips wriggled, trying to maneuver themselves in a way to rub against Harry’s thigh but she couldn’t find the right angle, just missing where her clit throbbed. There was only one way to get what she wanted, but her cheeks burned at the idea of giving in to him, of surrendering herself to his whims, of rewarding his behavior.

“I… I want…”

“There you go,” he encouraged with a smirk, roving his lips down her neck.

“I want… to come.” She thought she found a loophole, a work around to get what she wanted while maintaining some integrity.

But it didn’t work out how she planned.

“Well if that’s all you want, I’m sure a big, strong, independent woman like you can figure that out for herself.” Harry started to move his leg, he ever so slightly released his grip on her jaw, gradually backing away from her.

“Wait, no, I-” Charlie grabbed his arms, using her leg to yank him back. She felt a flash of fear at him leaving her in the middle of this lust-fueled frenzy. Her breath shortened, her mind ran through a bunch of different arguments as to why she should let him leave, but all she wanted… “I want you to make me come…” She hated how quickly she bent to him, how demanding she sounded, but she couldn’t risk him walking away, so she added, “…please.”

His dimples dipped into his cheeks as he smirked at her begging. “Since you asked so nicely…” he teased, dragging her crotch over his thigh, finally satiating her desires.

Charlie threw her head back as her body surrendered to his touch, sighing contentedly while her pussy leaked arousal. She let him have control of the rocking of her hips over his jeans, letting him set the pace, the pressure. Her clit mashed into the meat of his leg, rubbing against the denim.

“That's it, kitty.” Harry dipped his head to kiss down her neck. “Does that feel good?” Charlie hummed, making his lips vibrate against her throat, the sound echoing off the tiles until Harry stopped, forcing her hips to a halt. “C'mon, kitten, use your words and tell me how good it feels,” he demanded with a growl, nipping at her jaw.

Most of the men Charlie had been with didn't care for her opinion, they'd just manhandle her into their preferred position and have their way. She wasn't used to her sexual partners asking for her input. “Y-yeah, it feels good, feels really good,” Charlie rushed out, willing to agree to anything, so long as he'd go back to ruining her.

“Really good, huh?” Harry hitched his knee, making Charlie bounce on the muscle, her whines coming out in time with each hit. “Now do you want it like this…” Then he adjusted, pressing his thick shaft along her pelvis, causing her to grind on his cock. “… or do you want this?”

The head of his dick brushed over her pulsating clit, her nerves going wild over the contact. Even through her cotton panties and her bright colored tights, the weight of him pressed on her sensitive bud. She could feel herself slipping, her hold on reality loosening, relinquishing to the pleasure as it spread throughout her body. Closing her eyes, her brain started to shut down, succumbing to Harry’s thrusts.

Until Harry pinched at her chin again, redirecting her gaze to his own. “C’mon pet, don’t get dumb on me now. Tell me how you want it.”

She blinked up at him, her mouth flapping uselessly as she tried to come up with an answer. Charlie never had to tell a man how to pleasure her, they usually made their best guess, pumped themselves a few times and then finished, leaving Charlie to sort herself out once they had left. Yet, here Harry was, insisting she be an active participant in her orgasm. Maybe foreplay did exist outside of Penelope Neri’s books.

“Um… I-I-I like it um… when you um…” She couldn’t say it. Her tongue got all twisted up as she tried to speak, unable to say the words aloud. It was one thing in writing, putting down the dirty thoughts in her head onto the page, the keys typing out each filthy word, imprinting them onto the paper, but to speak it aloud, to ask for it, to beg for it, that was a humiliation Charlie hadn’t expected to face, especially after all the embarrassment she’d already been through today. She swallowed thickly, casting her gaze down in shame.

“You’ve got it,” Harry encouraged her, nudging his nose against hers. “You like it when I… do this?” Rolling his hips, he rutted into her, the head of his cock playing with her clit.

Moaning at the movement, Charlie nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I like that.”

“Tell me why.”

With an irritable whine, Charlie shook her head. She didn’t want to narrate her pleasure, she wanted to get lost in it.

“Tell me or I stop.”

It was an effective threat, the mere suggestion made her knees weak. Reaching back, Charlie braced herself on the sink basin, gripping onto the porcelain for support. “I-it feels good when-when you um-” Clearing her throat, she powered through her discomfort and made herself continue. “When you hump me and-and-and you rub up a-against me.”

“Like this?” He gave her a deep, slow thrust, languishing himself over her clothed crotch. Her body shivered as his shaft prodded at her clit, her hips shook with their own desire. The tease was nice but she needed more if she wanted to come. As if sensing her needs, Harry said, “If you need something, kitten, you gotta ask for it.”

“More,” she pleaded.

“More what?” He wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

“All of it!”

Tutting at her tantrum, Harry shook his head. “You can do better than that. Do you want it slower…” Pulling his hips back, he demonstrated as he pressed back into her, taking his time as he ran his cock over her. “Or do you want it faster?” Now, his hips snapped quicker, grinding into her swiftly, his pace gradually speeding up before he came to a complete stop. “How do you want it?”

“Faster!” She didn’t even think about it, already addicted to the quick, repeated brushes along her nerves. “And harder.”

Harry cooed at her sudden boldness, his eyebrow quirking. “Oh, does my pretty kitty think she can take it?” Charlie opened her mouth to argue, but Harry gave a few testing thrusts, causing her to interrupt herself with a gasping groan. “Wants it fast and rough, huh?”

Charlie babbled in agreement, trembling with need, eager for his weight, his heat to press back into her. Before Harry gave in to her pleas, he rushed his lips to capture hers, silencing her rambles. When his hips knocked into hers, Charlie couldn’t stop the bucking of her own hips, matching his rhythm until they were grinding into each other. Her moan vibrated against his lips, making him reciprocate, swallowing each other’s sounds.

Dry humping was something Charlie figured was better left to pre-pubescent kids who were too scared to go all the way, for the timid teens who were having their first make out session on their parent’s couch. Turns out, she had been wrong. When Harry drove his hips into her, it wasn’t with the trepidation of a first-timer, it was with expert precision, with the knowledge of how to give, how to please.

Harry pulled back from the kiss and dived in her neck, sucking feverishly on her pulse point.

“Ooo, baby, ri-right there, ah!” Charlie purred into his ear, yelping when his teeth bit down, one hand coming up to caress his hair, tugging on the longer strands at the base of his neck. As she grinded down onto his cock, she imagined how it’d feel without their clothes in the way, how deeply he’d penetrate, how much her lips would have to stretch around his girth. Her pussy slicked up even more at the mental image, seeping through the mesh of her pantyhose.

Harry’s throat rumbled with a growl, releasing her neck with a wet pop. “Jesus, kitten, you’re absolutely soaked. Staining my jeans like a whore.” Charlie went to pull back, abashed by her leaking arousal, but Harry only reveled in it, looking at the growing wet spot on his crotch with pride. “Someone might think you’re into this. That you like being fucked, even in a filthy bathroom.”

The answer was obvious, no matter how much Charlie wished she could deny it. Even if her cunt wasn’t leaving a mark on his jeans, he’d be able to tell from the way her nails dug into his scalp, the way her breathing hitched, the way her hips chased after his, magnetized to him. But how could she expect her body to respond normally when it was experiencing abnormal levels of passion and desire?

So, instead of giving him a response, she smeared herself on him, leaving a bigger trace of herself, making his smile grow.

“Should’ve known you’d be a dirty girl.” Then he was kissing her again, tonguing at her bottom lip.

She opened up to him, dropping her jaw, widening her legs, pulling him in so tightly, she couldn’t feel any space between them. The tongue in her mouth that tasted of beer and smoke, the hands that massaged her ass, the heat of his bulge, everything was building up towards her release. A brief wave of panic washed over her, not used to this intense pressure mounting with someone else around. Should she warn him, tell him about her upcoming orgasm, or would that only make him run? He never said anything about getting her off, or getting himself off, for that matter. He never said what he wanted out of this little bathroom tryst. There was a chance he’d leave her high and dry, that his plan all along was to wind her up and then dip before finishing what he started.

With too much at stake, Charlie kept quiet, rutting against Harry, focusing on her impending climax.

Her hips slowed as she neared her release, but Harry wouldn’t let her slack off, guiding her hips to the rhythm he set, making her keep up with him. He mumbled into her lips, “C’mon kitten, keep up,” before reconnecting their mouths. “Almost there kitty, c’mon.”

She would deny it, but hearing him admit to his own orgasm, admitting to being close, really stirred something deep in her belly. The idea that she was turning him on, that she was making him weak, was exhilarating, thrilling, even.

That was all it took, her body collapsing into a shuddering release as she came, her hips stuttering against his in tingling aftershocks. She grasped onto Harry, his body becoming her lifeline to reality as she crested through her climax. Her chest puffed out with a big inhale that she released with relieved whines, each one timed with the pulse of her cunt. Charlie was used to only experiencing those eye-rolling, toe-curling orgasms with her imported sex toy, but Harry had done so without even getting her naked.

Still in the comedown of her orgasmic high, Charlie chuckled to herself. At the absurdity of it all, of being humped in a bar bathroom by a man who couldn’t stand her. She hadn’t noticed when Harry had stepped away, when he’d started to wash his hands, but she noticed the spot she had left on his pants and the bulge of his hard cock straining against his jeans. “I thought-” Her voice felt unusually loud, breaking through this temporary lull that hung in the air. Clearing her throat, she tried again, softer. “I thought you um…” she indicated towards his pants. “I thought you said you were close.”

Shrugging, Harry said, “I was.” Something in his tone lingered, an awkwardness Charlie couldn’t quite place.

“Um… well, if you need a little help, I wouldn’t mind offering to um-” But she was interrupted by Harry’s laugh, the sound ruthlessly echoing off the tiles.

“Please, I would never debase myself by having sex in a disgusting bathroom like this. You,” he said, indicating towards her, “knock yourself out. But, I have some class.”

Charlie stared at him agape while he dried his hands off, scoffing in disdain. “Are you- are you fucking kidding me? What was the fucking point of all this then?”

“The point is that you scared away my date for the night, and I figured you owed me.” He looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you really complaining that I got you off?”

It was so confusing, it almost made her laugh again. He was right, she had no argument. Was she really going to beg, get down on her hands and knees, and pray until he felt bad enough and let her suck his dick? She’d be admitting to wanting it, wanting to see it, to touch it, to lick it. As he had put it, she had already acted like a depraved slut by letting him have his way with her, she wasn’t about to stoop lower.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your night,” Harry said, heading for the door. “I’m going to get plastered on cheap whiskey since you just saved me about $100.”

“Hey, while you do that, why don’t you go fuck yourself?!” It was cheap, the kind of insult one threw when they had nothing else.

And Harry knew it, scratching at his nose to hide his smug smile. As the door shut behind him, he said, “It’s more fun with an audience.”

Then, he was gone, leaving Charlie alone in the bathroom, the sound of the running sink filling in the silence. Turning around, Charlie looked at her reflection and was horrified with what she saw. Her lips were plumped by Harry’s kisses, her dress raised far above appropriate levels with her whole wet crotch exposed and, moving her hair aside, there was a large red mark on her jugular, a bite that would mark her as taken, like how animals claim their mates. Charlie’s makeup had spread, her mascara bled around her eyes, her lipstick smeared all over her mouth, including onto her chin. Wetting a couple of paper towels, she wiped off the offensive mess and tugged her dress hem down, cleaning herself back into looking publicly acceptable.

The reality of what just happened started to sink in like the stench of the restroom. She had let herself be so consumed by her lust, she gave herself over, practically gift wrapped herself, for Harry Styles, the man who seemed put out to ruin her career. All it took was a stupid kiss and a couple of words, and she had become putty in his soft hands. It must’ve been hidden within the accent, some magic spell he casted to make her ignore every warning going off in her head and succumb to his slimy touch.

But, fuck, that orgasm… When she closed her eyes, Charlie could still feel the ripples of it lingering, coursing through her body. She shivered, whether from the bathroom chill or from the remnants of her climax, she couldn’t tell.

Adjusting her purse strap as she left the bathroom, she planned on just strolling out of the bar, of ignoring the man currently sipping on his drink, already comfortable back in his seat, but her footfalls hesitated as she passed his table.

He was already eyeing her when she turned, a brow raised at her pause.

“If you um…” She didn’t have the luxury of blaming this on any alcohol, her judgement was unimpaired, yet she couldn’t justify what left her mouth. “If you want an audience for tonight for… y’know… I’m in room 1024 across the way.” Charlie lingered for just a moment, waiting for him to outright dismiss her or for her sense of logic to kick in and retract the invitation, but neither happened.

A beat passed, the radio changed to a Pink Floyd song, and Harry just stared at her. Figuring that was his answer, Charlie spun on her heel and headed for the door. If there was a chance for round two, she wanted to be prepared this time.

All her preparation was for naught, it turned out.

As soon as she returned to her room, Charlie ran through the gauntlet of quick beauty routines. She washed her body in the shower, wiping away the sweat and grime, making sure not a drop of water touched her chemically treated hair. Double checking that her pubes were trimmed, she debated cropping the little strip of hair shorter, but decided not to risk turning her landing strip into a parking spot. In the mirror, she played with different hairstyles: up, down, half up half down, in a side pony, she eventually settled with leaving it down, shaking her head side to side to revive the curls. Tugging on the collar of the robe provided by the motel, Charlie pulled it down until it hung off her shoulders, proudly showing off Harry's mark. Then she worried that putting it out on display was too much, too slutty, covering up the bruise shamefully. She stayed in the robe though, not bothering to put on anything underneath. In her mind, she planned this sultry dance where she slowly disrobed herself, ending with a sexy flourish.

Okay, maybe the flourish was a bit much.

She was giddy as she pampered herself, feeling like she was getting ready for a first date. In a way, she was, just the more mature version of it, she thought as she spritzed some perfume between her breasts. Charlie even turned on MTV, singing to her reflection along with Whitney Houston, both of them pining over someone to dance with.

The longer she waited, the more time she spent getting ready, now just having fun with it. More blush, hair fluffed higher, wiping off one color of lipstick and trying on another, puckering her lips and blowing kisses at her double in the mirror. After the fifth song ended, the Genesis music video transitioning into Starship’s newest single, Charlie began to worry. It’d been, what, forty minutes since she propositioned Harry, maybe closer to an hour. Where the hell was he?

After that first beat of doubt, she couldn’t drop the sinking feeling in her stomach. As her giddiness morphed into bitter dejection, her exaggerated makeup now looked clownish, her hair looked like it was defying gravity, and she couldn’t stop asking herself why she was going to all this effort for a man who couldn’t even do her the courtesy of telling her he wasn’t going to show.

Charlie washed everything off, removing all her hard work. She changed into her old high school exercise tee and the last clean pair of high waisted underwear, and changed the channel to QVC. Rummaging through her luggage, she pulled out her secret stash of Cheez Balls, popping open the can as she flopped onto the bed. Later, she could convince herself to pull out her vibrator, let the rabbit ears diddle with her clit, pretend like she wasn’t spending another night alone, but her feelings were still too raw, too demanding. She’d rather work through them now than give herself an unsatisfactory orgasm.

And so she remained for the next hour, passing the night away snacking on puff balls drenched in powdered cheese flavoring, the drone of the shopping channel replacing the silence. It’s when the blonde saleslady is touting off the benefits of some brand new pair of jeans, wriggling her butt for the camera to show off their glute retention, whatever the hell that meant, that Charlie rolled over to her bags. She was too lazy to stand, even as she flung her belongings around her room as she hunted for her toy. Her fingers brushed over a familiar shape, wrapped inside a large plastic bag.

That’s when someone knocked on her door, the wood rattling in the frame.

With her heart beating in her chest, Charlie got up slowly, licking the cheese dust off her fingers, hoping whoever stood outside her door couldn’t hear the creaking of her mattress. She didn’t want to be bothered, especially right now, and she knew better than to open the door at night for a stranger. Opening the plastic bag quietly, she pulled out the jelly toy, her pussy clenching at just the touch.

Three more raps against her door startled her, a small yelp escaping her.

Continuing to ignore them, Charlie flicked the switch, making sure the batteries were still good. Once or twice, she might’ve switched out the dead batteries with the ones in the TV remote, but luckily, she didn’t have to this time, the rabbit vibrating to life. Placing the toy over her clothed crotch, she let the rabbit’s ears prod at her clit, the two prongs coaxing the more sensitive button to appear from within the hood. She liked to tease herself, treat herself to a little foreplay before fucking herself silly on the device.

Again, and with much more urgency, someone pounded on her door. With an annoyed groan, Charlie turned off the TV, stood up, and marched over to her door, lifting up onto her tiptoes to peek out the peephole. The man outside was turned around, so she couldn’t make out any specific features in the dim lighting, but she would recognize that stupid fucking blue windbreaker anywhere.

Opening the door marginally, she stuck her head out. “What do you want?” Charlie demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry spun around, a slow, easy smile blooming across his face. “Hey-” he stopped himself short, pointing at her chest. “Is that… one of those vaginal pleasure toys?”

Sure enough, in her grasp, the purple jelly rabbit was still buzzing. Flicking the switch, Charlie paused the vibrations, still glaring at him. “What are you doing here?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“I came to take the place of that,” he said, indicating her toy. He took a step closer, but Charlie blocked the door, barring him entry. “Oh, c’mon, I brought a peace offering.” Raising his arm, he showed off the tips of two beer bottles sticking out of two paper bags. She couldn’t help but notice how tight his grip looked, the vein on the back of his hand jutting out, imagining that grip elsewhere…

“Well, it’s too late.”

“I didn't know it was a limited time offer.”

“Yeah, the deal expired when you didn’t show up.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“No, too late, I don’t even want to suck your dick anymore.”

“Is that what you were going to do?” Harry’s face lit up like a boy’s. Charlie rolled her eyes, going to shut the door, but he leaned against it, bracing it with an outstretched hand. “Whoa- hold on, hold on, hear me out!” he insisted with a laugh.

Huffing out a breath, Charlie raised her brows expectantly. She hoped his excuse would be worth letting the cool night air into her room, she could feel goosebumps already prickling across her bare legs.

“I’ve been sitting at that shitty little bar all night-” He ran a sluggish hand over his face, his words muffled behind his palm. His gaze shifted, looking everywhere but at her. “-trying to convince myself that I’ve had enough of you for one day.” Charlie’s glare tightened. “But it’s-it’s… I don’t know, I was over there, telling myself ‘Just one more drink and then I’ll go home’, but when I finished my drink…” Throwing his hands out wildly, he shrugged. “I don’t- I don’t know, I didn’t want to go home so then I ordered another drink and I said the same thing but… I’m still not home, am I?”

“Is there a point to all of this?” Her mother would tell her she was being rude for being so callous to him, but Charlie had to remind herself of all the makeup wipes currently sitting in her trash can.

“The point is…” Harry sighed, then looked up at her with a flicker of hope, “I wanna get you off again.”

Charlie's knees nearly gave out, having to grab onto the doorframe to stabilize herself. Blinking rapidly, she couldn't stop staring at him, her mouth creating a litany of shapes without a single sound coming out. She raked her brain for an argument, one single fucking argument to push back against him, a reason to tell him to leave, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate. Her brain’s logic was being overruled by her pussy, the muscles constricting in titillating anticipation. A shiver ran through her, easily explained away by the cold, but, in truth, she was remembering the dizzying orgasm he gave her earlier. Most of the men she had been intimate barely cared about whether she got off or not, meanwhile Harry had made her a quivering mess while they were both clothed. Charlie couldn’t dismiss the curiosity that plagued her brain. She was the one who took risks, she was the one who went for what she wanted, she was the one who was pushing the door open, shrugging as she conceded. “Okay.”

At first, he didn’t move, frozen with shock at her answer. She thought he probably expected her to put up more of a fight, to perform the usual back and forth that went hand-in-hand with these kinds of encounters. Then, Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Thank God,” he muttered in a husky voice. In a blink, he was in her space, walking into her room and kicking the door shut behind him. Stealing her vibrator, he tossed the device across the room, mumbling something about not needing it tonight, before he grabbed her waist and yanked her into him. “I’m not done playing with you, kitten.”

The kiss in the bathroom was full of clashing teeth and prideful passion. As he leaned down, claiming her mouth with his, this one was no less full of heat, but there was a tenderness that was missing last time. There was nothing to prove now, no argument to win, it was pure emotion, raw intimacy.

She reached out for him, her fingers brushing over the nylon in search of the zipper, desperate to remove the godawful jacket. As Charlie tugged it over his shoulders, she rolled her body into his, groaning when she felt the bulge straining in his pants. Eagerly, she dragged her hands down his chest, tracing over the knit pattern until her fingers grazed his belt. Just as she brushed the leather, Harry grabbed both of her wrists, restraining her single-handedly.

“Uh-uh,” Harry teased, nipping at her lower lip. “Not yet.” Using his hold on her, he pulled her along as he walked back towards the bed. Plopping down onto the mattress, he jerked on her wrists, yanking her in between his spread legs, then nuzzling his face into her belly. He panted hot breaths that penetrated through the thin cotton as his hands slipped beneath her shirt. His nails scraped over her flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “I was thinking…” Lifting up the hem of her shirt, he pressed a kiss above the band of her underwear. “…since you have such a hard time asking for what you want, maybe you could let me be in charge, yeah?” Hooking a finger beneath the elastic, he snapped it against her belly, smirking when she flinched, a naughty glint in his eye. “You think you can pay attention and be a good little kitten for me? I promise I’ll be better than your little toy.”

A whine squeezed at Charlie’s throat as she looked down at Harry. She brought her hand up to the back of his head, scratching at the little curls that lifted away from his neck. “Y-you sound so sure… that you can do better.”

“Money back guarantee.”

Charlie laughed nervously, then nodded. “O-okay, I can- I can… yeah.”

“Good, now take your shirt off,” he ordered, a growl rumbling deep in his chest, taking to his role quickly.

She didn’t put on a show as she disrobed herself, deciding he had forfeited any kind of special performance by being late. Plus, he didn’t tell her to, she justified. As Charlie lifted her shirt, Harry’s hands chased after the rising hemline, exploring over the newly exposed skin. When they cupped under the curve of her breasts, he marveled at their weight, massaging at the fatty flesh. His thumb brushed over her nipple carelessly, the featherlight touch making her stiffen. Leaning forward, his breathing deepened, taking long inhales and releasing them in stutters, the warm air blowing across Charlie’s body, tickling at her sensitive skin.

“And now you’re soaked panties.”

Her thighs clenched at the accusation, the wet fabric squelching between them. “I-I-I don’t-I’m not-” she stuttered, embarrassed to be called out.

“Kitten, I can smell it,” he said through gritted teeth, making heat crawl over Charlie’s cheeks. Pressing his nose above her crotch, he took in a deep inhale, then groaned. “God, it’s so thick, I can practically taste it. Now, get these off, I need to see the mess you’ve made.”

Charlie had never seen a man act so feral before. Never before had a man smelled her crotch and reveled in its stench, never before had a man growled into her pelvis, and it made her even wetter.

Pulling down her underwear, she was now completely bare in front of him, releasing a shaky exhale as she stood on display for him. Harry leaned back across the bed, propped up by his elbows, biting his lip as he fully took her in. His gaze lingered over her tits before traveling down to the strip of pubes, directing his sight to her glistening pussy. The laidback stance gave Charlie a chance to look him over, too. How his sweater stretched across his shoulders, how his hands kept balling into tight, white-knuckled fists, and how his jeans stretched over his crotch, his zipper straining.

Harry sat back up, drawing in a breath. “How would you like to earn a drink?” Charlie hadn’t seen when he had stashed the bottles to the side of the bed, probably distracted as he nuzzled into her stomach, but now as he reached over, she remembered his little peace offering.

With a hum, Charlie nodded. Now that he was in charge, she didn’t know if she was allowed to speak, and she wanted to be good, she wanted to earn her prize.

In a deep, breathy voice, he said, “Then get on your knees, kitty.”

Sinking down onto her knees, Charlie’s mouth began to water, preparing to lather his cock with her saliva. Since feeling his cock grinding into her, she wanted to see it, needed to confirm it was real.

But as she lowered herself, Harry didn’t reach for his belt, he reached out and grabbed her arms, suddenly halting her movements. “Hold on,” he instructed, sliding his left foot along the carpet until his shoe nudged between her knees. “Scoot forward, just like that, okay, and sit.” Pushing down on her shoulders, Harry forced her down until her cunt slotted along his loafer. “Now, I wanna see you get yourself off.”

Instead of doing as she was told, Charlie looked up at him with a confused stare. She had to wrap a hand around his calf to keep herself from falling over, her other hand grasping onto his knee. Just as she went to ask him to explain what exactly he wanted her to do, her pussy slipped across the smooth leather, her clit catching on the ridge. Releasing a surprised moan, her nails bit into Harry’s jeans, as she tried to understand what just happened. She hadn’t expected a shoe to feel… good. Charlie glanced up at him nervously, waiting for him to scold her, as if she did something wrong.

“That’s it, kitten. Keep going.”

Her chest tightened as she realized she wasn’t in trouble, that she was allowed, encouraged even, to continue. Sliding along his shoe, the raised edge dragged over her clit, her eyes fluttering at the sensation. Her pussy glided along the previous trail of arousal, smearing her slick over herself. Rocking her hips back and forth, Charlie grinded her clit into the shoe tip again and again. Little groans of pleasure freely flowed out of her open mouth.

"Tip your head back." Harry's whispered instruction cut through her low moans.

Charlie tilted her head, letting her tongue loll out. Harry's finger dipped under her chin, holding her steady as he raised the bottle, hovering it over her lips. Tipping it forward, the liquid flowed into her mouth, cascading over her tongue with the prickly tang of cheap beer. As Harry lifted the bottle away, a couple drops slipped out the corner of her mouth, dribbling down her neck as she swallowed the rest. Charlie went to wipe away the excess, but Harry slapped her hand away, focused entirely on the trajectory of the stray droplets. When the bead ran over the curve of her breast, that's when Harry reached out, massaging it into her tit, painting her nipple with the beer. The ministrations of his thumb over her nipple made Charlie's hips quake, stuttering over Harry's shoe in quick, rapid motions.

"Such a disgusting little thing you are." Even though his words were disapproving, he couldn't have sounded more proud. When Charlie dared to look up at him, he was smiling down at her, his pupils blown out with hungry desire. "Do you like making a mess all over my shoes?"

Rubbing her face along the denim, she nodded, whining in affirmation.

"Words, kitten," he reminded her, "use your words."

"Oh-h yeah, ye-ah I like it." She could hardly remember the question, but she answered as best she could. Her speech came out choppy, interrupted by her pleasured groans as she kept grinding into his foot.

Brushing some of her hair aside, Harry let out a chiding tsk. "In a bar bathroom, on a filthy shoe, hell, I'm pretty sure you would've let me take you in that alleyway. Would’ve let me bend you over a dumpster and fuck you silly like a worthless little slut, wouldn't you?"

"Ye-yeah, I wo-uld!" At this point, it didn't matter what he asked, Charlie would've agreed to it, so long as he kept his foot pinned under her.

"Do you like being played with, being treated like a little toy?"

"Y-yeah, play with-with your toy.” This, Charlie could do, playing into his ego, mindlessly repeating his words back to him so that would keep him going.

“You're not my toy, you're my little sex kitten.”

The sound Charlie let out was an unattractive mix of a mewl and a moan, a primal grunting that made her slap a hand over her mouth, to cover up the egregious noise.

Harry's hand, which had been softly petting her head, grew tight in her hair, giving it a tug in warning. “Oh no you don't. I want to hear all your pathetic little sounds.” Ever so slightly, he raised his foot, shifting it underneath her, making her rock to his rhythm.

Charlie felt like she was losing control of herself. She was used to restraining herself during sex, performing the same girlish routine and pitching her voice like how all the porn stars did. It was lousy but it got the job done, that's what Charlie figured sex was. Now, she could feel sweat pebbling on her lower back as she continued to chase after her own orgasm, groaning with animalistic abandon. With other guys, she would constantly worry about the details, pulling the right faces, arching her back at just the perfect moment. But Harry encouraged her feral behavior, rewarding her for it with sloppy sips of Budweiser.

Pouring her another drink, he said, “There you go, kitten, drink up. Wouldn't want you to make another mess. You didn't even clean up the first one.” To demonstrate, he pinched at her nipple, the old sticky beer stain melding them together. Charlie squeaked when he peeled his finger off, that tingle of pain dissolving into pleasurable ripples that surged throughout her body.

“Oh, I'm close, oh fu-uck.” Her orgasm crept up without warning, brewing low and heavy, the pressure becoming unbearable.

“Aw, is my pretty kitty going to ruin herself on my shoe?”

“Yeah, yeah, oh fuck yeah!” As she rubbed her face into his leg, Charlie couldn't stop herself from biting down on the denim, teething at his pants while whimpering like a dog. It was like she was possessed.

With a violent shudder, Charlie's scream was absorbed into Harry's jeans as she came undone. Her hips jerked back and forth, rubbing her clit over the seam, coaxing the full orgasm out. Panting through her nose, her groans softened into soft, mewling whines. Her senses gradually returned, the first being the dull taste of denim. When she pulled away, there was a wet spot where she had drooled on his pants. Underneath her, Harry's shoe was now slippery with her arousal, and when he moved it beneath her, Charlie slid off, slumping into a breathless heap on the floor.

Harry tucked a finger under her chin, murmuring, “Here, take another sip.” This time he brought the bottle to her lips, the glass rim cool compared to her burning skin. The sweat from her upper lip mixed with the beer, adding a salty twist to the drink. “Careful, not too fast. That's good, kitty.”

After he removed the bottle, Charlie blinked her eyes open, finally returning back to some version of herself. She was still panting, the effects of the orgasm lingering in the very edges of her body. At the slightest movement, her whole body seized up with residual aftershocks, everything felt connected, every motion rigged to set off another. When she went to glance up at Harry, Charlie had to stop when she saw it. The left shoe was saturated in her juices, creamy streaks of her arousal painted across the leather. It didn't look like the same shoe anymore, no longer matching with its twin.

Clicking his tongue, Harry shook his head disapprovingly despite the smirk widening across his face. “Look at the mess you made, kitten. Such a naughty, little thing, ruining my expensive shoes.” He sounded almost joyous, delighting in the ravaged shoe. Lifting his gaze to meet Charlie’s, he cocked his head to the side. “Did you tucker yourself out humping my shoe?” he cooed, his thumb petting along her cheek.

Charlie nuzzled into his touch, sighing as she nodded.

“Does kitty need a break before she lets me fuck her?”

Her eyes shot open, revitalized with a sudden burst of energy. “No, no, I’m ready but um… but I don’t…” Charlie didn’t bring any condoms on her trip, regretting not grabbing one of those safe sex pamphlets that were given out for free at the bookstore. She was on the pill, but it wasn’t just a baby she was trying to avoid. ”Do you have a um…”

“Yeah, don’t worry, kitty. I’ll keep you safe.” Harry pressed his lips to hers, reassuring her with soft pecks. Pulling back, his voice was low and husky, dipping back into his domineering role, as he ordered, “Now get on the bed, and spread your legs.”

The way he could shift from soft and caring into demanding and sexy was disorientating but Charlie followed his instructions dutifully, wanting to be good for him. After scrambling across the mattress, she leaned back against the headboard, pulling her knees up so she laid completely exposed to him.

Harry stood up as Charlie got comfortable in her spot, adjusting the pillows behind her. Reaching up, he pulled his sweater over his head, carelessly tossing the shirt across the room, leaving him in just his white button up. Whereas Charlie refused to put on a show, Harry savored the performance, taking his time to undo each individual button. As the shirt opened, Charlie could make out dark etchings on his body, a hidden collection of tattoos that had both her jaw and her legs falling open. Halfway through, he stopped, the wings of a large butterfly inked into his belly just peeking out, and he lowered his hands to unbuckling his belt. Watching his large hands delicately yet deftly work the buckle made Charlie’s pussy flutter, biting her lip as she imagined him touching her that intricately. Harry unzipped his pants, releasing a quiet yet relieved sigh. Undoing the rest of his shirt, he revealed even more artwork on his arms, practically covered in black ink.

Charlie wasn’t sure where to look, overwhelmed with his beauty. Rounded pecs that she wanted to rest her head upon, defined arms that didn’t bulge with too many muscles, he somehow looked like the perfect balance between soft and firm, toned yet plush. There was no thought going on in her head as her fingers drifted down her body, barely registering when she started to rub at her clit.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself a little too much, huh kitten?” Delirious with desire, all Charlie could do was nod her head. With an endeared scoff, Harry pulled out his wallet, plucking out a foil packet and flinging the silver square at her. “Here, if you need something to keep you occupied, play with that.”

Picking up the condom from where it landed on her chest, she played with the crimped edges, not wanting to take her eyes off of him, especially when his hands dipped into his pants, pushing both his jeans and his underwear down in one quick motion.

When Harry stood back up to his full height, toeing off his shoes as he stepped out of his clothes, Charlie’s eyesight was immediately drawn to his cock. It wavered in the air, fighting with gravity as it raised up, stretching towards the two laurel branches tattooed at his hips. Her head toppled to the side as she stared at it. The tip was burned red, aching and leaking a little. Harry stroked himself, gathering the come to spread over himself, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he squeezed. Glancing up at her through his eyelashes, Harry smirked at the dumb look on Charlie’s face, mesmerized by his large member. “Are you gonna stare at it all night, kitten?”

His mocking tone broke through her dick-induced haze, dragging her eyes up to meet his. With a surge of confidence, Charlie bit down on the foil wrapper, crawling across the bed until she was up close with his crotch. Tearing the condom open with her teeth, she rolled the rubber down his shaft. She was surprised at how warm his cock was in her grasp, her grip fluctuating between light and rough, touching him experimentally. Even as she held it, she couldn’t believe it was real, couldn’t fathom the idea that he was going to fit it inside of her. In some twisted part of her brain, Charlie thought the best way to test that would be to see if it would fit in her mouth. Experimentally, she stuck out her tongue and lapped at the tip, the rubber sliding across. Harry didn’t stop her, which gave Charlie all the permission she needed to wrap her lips around him, suckling on his head.

Harry groaned above her, his stomach tightening as her head bobbed. He indulged her, let her lather him in her saliva. “Greedy little thing, just needed to have my cock in your mouth, huh?”

Moaning around him, Charlie took him in deeper. She could feel his hand resting on top of her, the little pressure he applied pushing her down further, taking more of him in, until his dick tickled at the back of her throat.

“Okay, okay,” Harry said, twisting his hand in her hair to pull her off of him. “You had your fun, now it’s my turn.” Bending down, he went in like he was going to kiss her, but at the last second, he flattened his tongue, dragging the wet muscle up her face. “Just wanted a taste,” he whispered before kissing her for real. “On your knees, kitten.”

Rolling over onto her knees, Charlie propped herself up, arching her back like she’s used to. In her experience, most one night stands preferred this position. The lack of intimacy was the point, staring off into space as someone pounded into her from behind, her partner staring at her jiggling ass the whole time. It was also easier to fake it this way, maintaining a bored expression on her face while she moaned obscenely. And then as soon as he left, she’d flop back onto the bed and let her rabbit finish the job.

She’s looking for it now, trying to find where Harry had thrown the purple toy when she felt wet pressure applied to her clit. The touch was so surprising to her, she hadn’t noticed when Harry had wrapped his arm around her hip, his middle finger rubbing circles over her sore bud. Her body reacted instinctively, pushing back, rocking her pussy towards him, and her elbows shook underneath her, threatening to give out. Then two of his fingers shoved into her pussy, scissoring them through her muscles. That’s when her face slumped into the bed, her back curving even more.

“Jesus, you’re practically presenting yourself, kitten. Like the good little slut I knew you were.”

Charlie’s moans were muffled by the bed spread. This attention on her was unusual. She wasn’t used to her clit aching from exertion, nor was she used to being called degrading names in bed, yet it only made her more aroused. Another orgasm was already twisting inside of her, his fingers running over this one spot again and again that made her pussy quiver.

Extracting his fingers, she heard him moan as he loudly suckled on them, her cunt clenching at the sound. Then Harry grabbed himself, running his tip through her lips. “Ready?”

Knowing that he expected a verbal response, Charlie lifted her head, nodding wildly. “Yes, yes, please fuck me,” she pleaded, her voice pitchy and whiny.

Pressing into her, his cock split her open. Charlie could feel her body tense up at the intrusion, closing her eyes and whimpering at the stretch.

Harry hissed as her cunt clamped around him. “Easy, kitten,” he soothed, his fingers rubbing circles over her clit, making her loosen up. “That’s it,” he said as his cock dipped further in, his sigh twinged with a growl.

The stretch of her pussy sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure, the two commingling into a spine-tingling lust hysteria. Charlie started to push herself back, taking him in deeper. The hurt fed into her desire, chasing after both. “Ooo, Harry, oh fuck,” she whined. “It-it-you just mhm- oh it feels…” Charlie wanted to tell him how good it felt, but she couldn't find the words, couldn't concentrate long enough to form a complete sentence. It's not until he bottomed out, slipping in fully, his hips bouncing off her ass, his balls slapping against her clit, that she blurted out, “You're so big.”

His laugh rumbled deep in his chest. “Yeah? So big and so deep inside you.” To prove his point, he gave a few shallow thrusts, barely moving his hips, just punctuating the same spot over and over. “Taking it so well, just like I knew you would. Fuck, your cunt feels good.” Harry leaned back enough to watch his dick disappear inside of her, the yellow condom coated in Charlie’s arousal. “Look at the mess you’re making, kitty. Such a messy little thing you are.” Harry’s dick glided through her easily as her pussy slicked over him, his thrusts becoming faster and rougher.

The bed creaked with their movement, the headboard banged against the wall, matching their rhythm, but all Charlie could hear was the pants and grunts Harry made as he pounded into her. His balls clapped against her pussy, the wet slapping punctuating each thrust. One of his hands groped her ass, his nails puncturing into the flesh. Charlie’s senses had dulled themselves until all they could focus on was Harry. His cock pulsing through her cunt, his musky vanilla cologne, his sweat dripping onto her back, his cigarette-tinted breath, his degrading name calling, it consumed every bit of her. As her climax mounted, she felt she couldn’t claim it as hers. Her orgasm belonged to Harry, he was in control of it.

“Oh, Harry, I’m-I’m close, oh fuck I’m c-close.”

“I know, kitten, can feel you squeezing me,” Harry groaned, leaning over her to grab at her tits, rolling her sticky nipple in his pinched fingers. “C’mon dirty girl, do what you do best, and make a fucking mess already.”

Charlie cried out as she came, her pussy pulsing while Harry kept pumping into her. Her toes curled, her nails dug into the bedding, and her body tensed up before it all came crumbling down, flowing through her in one great release. She felt her pussy drool, leaking out excess juices, something she had never experienced before.

“Fuck, kitten, fuck, turn over,” Harry ordered her, pulling out of her and slapping her ass to get her to move quickly. It was more of an awkward tumble, collapsing onto the bed and forcing herself over onto her back, and then Charlie was greeted with a glorious sight. Harry had ripped the condom off, wetting his hand with his tongue before he began furiously stroking himself. “Come closer,” he begged through clenched teeth. Scooting closer, she watched as he worked himself over. Sweat beaded at his forehead, his teeth bit into his lower lip, and his stomach seized up with each breath, making the butterfly flutter. Tossing his head back, his breathing stuttered before he groaned, his cock spurting out ropes of come over Charlie’s chest. Harry kept stroking, forcing out all that he could, letting it drip over Charlie’s body. “Fuck… fuck, okay.” Running a hand through his hair, Harry tried to get his breath to settle. Shaking his head, his lips trilling in exhaustion, Harry finally looked down at Charlie, her body painted with his jizz. “I’ll uh… I’ll get you something for that.” Clearing his throat, he walked over to the bathroom vanity, turning on the faucet.

Reality started to set in, now that the sexual fog dissipated. Had that all just really happened? Any doubt in her mind was assuaged by the semen on her breasts, the air conditioning turning it chilly against her skin. Charlie tried to run through everything that had just occurred, piecing back everything that had happened. Grinding on his shoe, admiring his little strip tease, and squirting? She didn’t even know she could do that!

A wet thump next to her head broke her out of her thoughts. Harry had thrown a damp wash cloth at her, just missing hitting her in the face. Still naked, he walked across her room like he had paid for it, bending over to pick up his jacket, not giving a care that he was exposing his asshole to Charlie, who looked away a moment too late. He fished out his cigarettes and lighter, grabbing the ashtray as well, bringing everything back over to the bed.

Charlie wiped away Harry’s come, rubbing away the sticky beer residue as well, before tossing the dirty cloth back over towards the bathroom. Harry sat down next to her on the edge of the bed, placing the ashtray between them, acting as a barrier between them. Lighting up one of his cigs, he passed it to her. She mumbled a thank you, and he only grunted in return, preparing another for himself.

Silence fell over the room. Neither of them knew what to say, too afraid to interrupt this temporary peace between them. Compliments would’ve felt patronizing, and insults wouldn’t have landed as harshly. So, they sat there, naked, side-by-side, breathing in the same smoky air. For a few moments, it was almost nice.

Until Charlie asked the question that had been nagging at the back of her head. “What made you show up?” Harry raised a brow at her, the tip of the cigarette burning red as he inhaled. Charlie rambled on to fill the empty space. “I mean, it took you two hours to figure out whether you wanted to come over or not, what made you decide?”

Blowing out the smoke, he shrugged, his eyes drifting away from her. “I figured I’d never see you again…”

She didn’t know what kind of answer she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t an honest confession like tha-

“And you were a guarantee lay, I couldn’t pass that up.”

Yeah, that made more sense.

“Gee, thanks,” she deadpanned. Charlie stood up then, putting some distance between them. Crossing an arm across her chest, she pressed him as she breathed out her puff of smoke, “What does that mean though, you figured you wouldn’t see me?”

Harry looked at her like it was the most obvious answer. “It’s not like you’re going to publish another book.”

“What?!” Charlie shrieked, accidentally inhaling too much smoke and choking on it, coughing roughly. Pounding a fist against her chest, she hacked up the rest of the smoke, scowling at him with red rimmed eyes, repeating herself in a husky voice. “What?”

“Look, you tried and you failed. Might as well quit while you’re ahead.” He said it so casually, so dismissively, as if he wasn’t telling her to just give up on her dreams.

“Jesus Christ,” she scoffed, running a hand over her face. “Y’know, your opinion is not the only one that fucking matters.”

“No, but at least people actually read the things I write.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please like people actually pay two fucking dollars just to read your shitty reviews.”

“Most people can afford the two fucking dollars.” He glared at her, wagging his finger in her direction as he added on, “And it’s not just my opinion, okay, none of the major publishers liked your work either. You had to go to some tiny little publishing house in bumfuck Idaho that’s probably gonna close down in a year.”

Ignoring his ranting, Charlie stormed over to the bathroom, grabbing the robe that she had hung back up on the wall, covering up her body. If he was going to be an insulting prick, then he didn’t get to see her naked anymore.

“Look, no one can fault you for trying,” Harry said, attempting to soothe his harsh words, trying to make her see his point of view. “But you can’t always make your dreams come tr-” He stopped when his stupid jacket whacked him in the face. Ripping it away, he shouted at her, “What the hell?!”

“Get out!”

Raising his brows, Harry stared agape. “Are you serious?”

Charlie bent over to grab his sweater, throwing it as well. “Yes, I’m serious! I want you to fucking leave!”

Harry scrambled to get his pants on while trying to avoid being hit with any more clothing items, his flaccid penis flopping around as he hopped into his jeans sans underwear. “Alright, alright, bugger, chill out!”

“Don’t tell me to chill out, just get the fuck out of here!” Stomping around the room, she started tossing all his things into a pile, trying to expedite his departure.

Her neighbor started beating against their shared wall, clearly annoyed.

“You’re fucking mental!” he grumbled as he looped his belt around his jeans.

“Y’know, it makes sense why you’ve got such a big dick, it learned from watching you!”

“Thank you. You do realize you just gave me a compliment, right? Or have all those chemicals melted your brain cells!” They were standing so closely, they kept accidentally touching, his hand whacking into her arm, her chest brushing up against his.

The knocking grew louder and more insistent as their voices raised.

“You’re just a pig-headed, ass-clown elitist who pretends like he’s so fucking smart!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from a backwater, trailer trash bitch like you!”

“I bet you don’t have a single original idea floating in that fat head of yours!”

“And your ideas are just the same hackneyed bullshit as everyone else!”

“Shut up!” came a muffled shout from beyond the wall.

“You shut up!” they shouted at the offending wall in unison.

Still shirtless, Harry gathered up the rest of his clothes in his arms. “I’m out of here.”

“Good!” she smiled at him, throwing her arms out to the side. “Run away, like the coward you are!”

As he opened up the door, he accosted her with a hard glare. “You’re never going to be a successful author,” he vowed, slamming the door behind him.

Charlie raced over to the door, tearing it open and yelling after his retreating figure, “And you’ll never be an author, period!” Then she slammed the door shut again, collapsing to the ground in a frustrated, tearful heap.

She sat there seething, willing herself not to cry. That narcissistic asshole was not worth crying over. As much as his words stung, what hurt the most was that awful nagging thought that she allowed this to happen. Charlie had invited him over, had let him into her room, had let him fuck her. She had opened up to him, exposed some of her vulnerabilities, then acted shocked when he turned around and stabbed her in the back. Even before they had been intimate, he had been nothing but cruel to her and she rewarded him for it. How fucked was that?

Standing up on wobbly legs, she trudged over to her bag, rummaging through her shit until she found her notebook. Flipping through, she found her pen, tucked next to a brand new page. Biting off the cap, she sniffled as she sat down on the floor started writing.

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But the room is empty, quiet except for the distant crash of waves outside and the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen downstairs. Of course he pulled away. Harry isn't the type to dive headfirst into something this dangerous without immediate regret. He has rules. Boundaries. A daughter sleeping just down the hall who adores him and trusts you both implicitly. You can already picture the distance he'll put between you today, the way he'll avoid your gaze like it burns him.

Still, the thought of it, the restraint in him, sends a thrill through you that inexplicably settles low in your belly. You're not sure if it's rejection or the delicious frustration of the chase that turns you on more. Man, your parents' divorce really fucked you up.

By the time you pad downstairs in an oversized t-shirt and soft sleep shorts, the comforting smell of coffee and something savory fills the airy beach house: bacon and eggs, Emma's favorite. Sunlight pours in through the large sliding doors that open onto the deck, highlighting the scattered remnants of last night's dinner prep. Emma's already at the kitchen island, hair piled messily on top of her head, scrolling through her phone with one hand while nursing a mug of coffee.

''Morning, sleepyhead!'' she chirps, oblivious as ever, waving you over. ''Dad's making breakfast. I asked nicely, I promise.''

Harry sends her a look of fatherly disapproval that says you absolutely did not.

You smile, keeping it light as you slide onto a stool, deliberately choosing the one with a clear view of Harry. Your eyes drift inevitably toward him. He's at the stove, broad shoulders tense beneath a simple white t-shirt that clings to the muscles you dragged your nails down just hours ago. His hair is damp from a shower, curls tousled, and those grey sweatpants sit low on his hips in a way that feels deliberately torturous. He doesn't turn immediately, but you notice the subtle shift in his posture, the way his hand pauses over the pan.

''Smells amazing, Mr. Styles.'' The honorific feels loaded now, after the way he had you screaming his first name last night, and judging by the way his head tilts like he's in fucking agony, he's thinking of it too.

Harry finally glances over his shoulder, his green eyes meeting yours for the briefest second before flicking away.

''Morning,'' he says, voice even and polite, that familiar low timbre sending a shiver down your spine. ''Help yourself. There's plenty.''

There's no meaningfully lingering look. No secret smirk. Only the same courteous tone he's used a hundred times before. He plates the food with focused efficiency, bacon perfectly crisp, eggs scrambled just how Emma likes them, then busies himself wiping counters and tidying, his movements almost mechanical. The avoidance stings more than you want to admit, but it also ignites something hotter.

You watch him closely while pouring coffee, noting the faint flush on the back of his neck, the tight set of his jaw when your fingers nearly brush his reaching for the creamer. He steps back quickly, muttering something about checking the deck furniture outside, and slips through the sliding doors a little too fast.

Emma doesn't seem to notice, chatting away about her plans for the day, how she wants to spend hours out on the sunbeds soaking it up the early afternoon sun, how she and Andy are thinking of driving into town later for some fresh seafood for dinner.

You nod along, humming in agreement, but your mind is elsewhere. On the way Harry's hands felt last night. On the way he's clearly fighting the same pull you are and how badly you want to make it impossible for him to keep pretending nothing had happened.

Harry returns only to eat quickly and clear his plate with minimal small talk about the weather and how the waves are supposed to be good for swimming. You catch his eye once through the glass doors, letting your gaze linger a beat too long. His jaw clenches visibly.

You head upstairs after breakfast with purpose, the wooden stairs creaking softly under your feet. In the guest room, you peel off your oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, standing in front of the mirror for a moment as you slip into the tiniest bikini you packed for this trip.

The fabric is a deep emerald green that contrasts beautifully against your skin, the top little more than two tiny triangles held together by thin strings that tie behind your neck and back. The bottoms are even more scandalous, high-cut on the hips with minimal coverage in the back, the strings sitting low and delicate, threatening to come undone with the slightest tug. It leaves very little to the imagination.

You adjust the ties carefully, imagining Harry's hands on them later, and a small, satisfied smile curves your lips. Perfect.

Down on the spacious deck, the ocean breeze carries the salty tang of the sea, and the sun beats down warmly on the wide wooden planks. Emma is sprawled on one of the comfortable sunbeds, sunglasses perched on her nose, a book open but ignored in her lap. You join her on the neighboring lounger, settling onto your stomach first, propping yourself up on your elbows so the curve of your ass is prominently on display toward the house and deck area where Harry is working.

The two of you chat idly about university gossip, the latest shows you're both binging, how nice it is to have this whole stretch of summer ahead with no real responsibilities. Laughter comes easily between you, light and carefree on the surface, while you angle your body just so, arching your back a little as you turn the page of your own book.

You can feel the weight of Harry's gaze from where he stands near the railing, pretending to adjust some outdoor cushions or check on the grill setup. He's trying so hard to focus elsewhere, but you catch the stolen glances, the way his eyes drag over the lines of your barely-covered body before he forces them away.

Inside, Harry's mind is a storm of conflicting thoughts. This is wrong. She's your daughter's best friend. But the memories of last night refuse to fade: the way you felt around him, tight and warm and so fucking eager, the soft gasps and whimpers you tried to muffle against your arm. His body reacts against his will, a familiar tightening in his groin that makes him shift uncomfortably and adjust the hem of his shirt.

He knows he should go inside, put more distance between you, but the pull is magnetic. You're doing this on purpose. The little tease. Fuck, the things he wants to do to you right now. He clenches his jaw, knuckles whitening around the cushion he's holding, willing himself to stay away even as his eyes trace the string of your bikini bottoms.

You feel powerful. The rejection from breakfast stings less now, replaced by the thrill of knowing you affect him this much. You sit up after a while, reaching for the bottle of sunscreen, and begin applying it slowly to your legs, your hands sliding up your thighs in a way that feels almost obscene, making the skin there glisten under the sun.

Emma lays beside you, completely unaware, engrossed in her book.

''Mr. Styles, would you mind getting my back?'' you ask casually after a few minutes, glancing toward him with feigned innocence. ''I always miss spots, and the sun's brutal today.''

Harry hesitates visibly, his broad frame tensing as he approaches. Up close, you can see the conflict in his eyes, the restraint warring with desire. His hands are warm and slightly rough as he takes the bottle, squeezing lotion onto his palms. When they make contact with your skin, smoothing over your shoulders and down your back, the touch is electric. His fingers tremble with the effort of keeping it appropriate, but they press firmer than necessary in places, tracing the line of your spine as though he's punishing you for acting out.

''You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,'' he whispers low enough that only you can hear, voice rough with barely contained need as one thumb brushes dangerously close to the side of your breast. ''Prancing around in this fucking thing all day, teasing me like a little slut while my daughter sits right there. Keep this up and I'll bend you over the nearest surface and remind you who you're messing with.''

The words send a rush of heat straight between your legs, arousal pooling instantly. You bite your lip to stifle a smile, pressing your thighs together subtly on the sunbed. You like messing with him.

''Is that a promise?'' you whisper over your shoulder.

The tension crackles in the air between you and Harry, thick and undeniable, as his hands linger just a second too long before he pulls away abruptly, clearing his throat and stepping back.

...

The afternoon sun begins its slow descent, casting a warm golden glow across the spacious deck. Emma's phone buzzes beside her on the sunbed, and her face lights up when she checks it.

''Andy's here! We're going into town for that seafood place we talked about. The one with the outdoor patio overlooking the water, y'know?'' She bounces up excitedly, already gathering her things, completely unaware of the charged atmosphere she's leaving behind.

You wave her off with a bright smile, wishing her a good time, while Harry stands near the railing, offering his daughter a fond smile. ''Have fun, lovebug. Stay safe, and text me if you need anything.''

The moment Emma disappears down the steps, the air between you and Harry shifts. The deck feels suddenly intimate, the ocean breeze doing little to cool the heat simmering between you. You don't waste the opportunity. Still in that tiny emerald bikini, you rise slowly from the sunbed and saunter toward him, hips swaying with deliberate intent.

''All alone now,'' you murmur as you stop just close enough for him to smell the sunscreen on your sun-warmed skin. Your fingers trail lightly down his arm, feather-light but enough to make his breath hitch.

Harry's jaw clenches hard, green eyes darkening as they flick over your barely covered body. You know exactly what you're doing. That bikini should be illegal. He can still smell you from last night, feel how tight you were, and now you're pushing every last one of his buttons. His cock twitches in his shorts despite his best efforts, the restraint he's clung to all day beginning to fray dangerously.

He steps back, busying himself with straightening deck chairs, but you follow, pressing closer, letting your hand accidentally brush his arm as you reach past him for a bottle of water. ''You've been avoiding me all day, Mr. Styles. Afraid you can't keep up?'' you taunt him.

He lets out a low, frustrated groan under his breath, hands flexing at his sides as if fighting the urge to grab you.

''You're going to get us both in trouble,'' he mutters, voice rough with arousal and warning. The struggle is clear in the way his body leans toward you even as his mind screams to pull away. The guilt over his daughter, the age gap, the forbidden nature of it all only makes his desire burn hotter. You push further, whispering filthy recollections of how he bent you over the counter, how full he made you feel, until he's visibly straining against his shorts, breathing heavier, hands hovering like he might finally snap and pin you against the railing.

Just as he reaches for you, fingers barely brushing your waist, the sound of the front door opening shatters the moment. Emma's voice carries through the house. ''The restaurant was closed for a private event! Can Andy have dinner with us, Dad? Please?''

Harry pulls back instantly, composing himself with visible effort, running a hand through his curls. ''Of course, lovebug,'' he calls back, the affectionate nickname warm and fatherly even as his eyes flash with dark promise at you. ''The more the merrier.''

Dinner comes together quickly in the open kitchen area that flows onto the deck. Harry prepares a summery spread, grilled fish with a lemon-herb marinade, a fresh salad with avocado and cherry tomatoes, and roasted vegetables drizzled in olive oil. The smells are incredible.

You try to claim the seat next to Emma, desperate for some buffer, but she leans in with a pleading whisper. ''Please sit on the other side? I really like Andy, and I want him next to me. Pretty please?''

Her eyes are wide and hopeful, the kind of look that always gets her what she wants from you. You sigh and give in, moving around the table so Andy can slide in beside her. This leaves you directly next to Harry.

He plates generous portions for everyone with steady hands, but you notice the tightness in his shoulders as he sits down beside you. The chairs are close, intimate, really, so that your arms brush whenever you reach for your fork or glass. Harry keeps his eyes trained straight ahead, focused on his plate or Emma's animated storytelling about the walk into town, refusing to acknowledge your presence.

The deliberate cold shoulder frustrates you all over again, reigniting that mischievous spark.

Under the table, your bare foot slides slowly up his leg, tracing the inside of his calf, then higher along his thigh. Harry stiffens immediately and subtly kicks your foot away, the movement making the table shift slightly. Emma glances over. ''You okay, Dad?''

''Fine, just stretched my leg,'' he replies smoothly, voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. You're relentless. His daughter is right there. He really should stop this, he knows he has to, but his body betrays him, cock hardening again under the table.

Undeterred, you wait a moment before your hand ventures under the tablecloth. The closeness of the chairs makes it easy, your arm resting casually on your lap as your palm presses against the growing bulge in his shorts, rubbing slowly, firmly, just as he picks up his glass.

Harry chokes on his water and coughs into his fist. Emma looks concerned. ''Dad, are you sure you're alright?''

He nods, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle jumps. ''Yeah, went down the wrong way.'' He shakes his head slightly to himself, trying to stay engaged in Emma's story about a funny encounter at Andy's surf shop, but his breathing is shallower now. You're going to fucking pay for this later. He'll make sure to fuck the attitude right out of you. His hand briefly grips your wrist under the table in warning, but he doesn't pull you away immediately, the pleasure warring with the risk.

When Emma and Andy eventually head into the kitchen to scoop up some dessert from the fridge, laughing together, Harry turns to you with fire in his eyes. ''Cut it out,'' he whisper-yells, though the strain in his voice makes it sound more desperate than he'd hoped. ''Now.''

You just smile sweetly at him, your hand giving one last teasing squeeze before you pull back. The promise of what's coming later hangs heavy in the air as the evening winds down.

Later that night, after everyone has said their goodnights and the house settles, you lie awake in the guest room. The sheets feel too warm, your body still buzzing with unspent arousal and smug satisfaction from the day's games. You listen to the house, heart pounding in anticipation, wondering when Harry will finally snap and sneak in.

The ache between your legs is almost unbearable now, every minute stretching out in delicious, torturous expectation.

The house has gone completely quiet, the kind of heavy silence that only comes late at night by the ocean, broken only by the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore and the occasional creak of wood.

Harry lies in his own bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, every muscle in his body taut with unresolved tension. His cock is still half-hard, throbbing insistently against the fabric of his boxers despite the cold shower he forced himself into after dinner. All day you had tormented him: that sinful little bikini, forcing him to apply your sunscreen, your foot sliding up his leg under the table, your hand palming him so brazenly while his daughter sat mere feet away. He knows exactly what you were doing. Pushing him. Testing him. Trying to break his resolve like some childish game.

You're too young for this. Too close to Emma. He's your best friend's father, for fuck's sake. The guilt gnaws at him, sharp and familiar, but it does nothing to dull the lust burning through his veins. He considers taking himself in hand right here, stroking out a quick, unsatisfying release while imagining your mouth or your tight cunt wrapped around him. It would serve you right, leaving you aching and alone in the guest room, wondering why he didn't show. But his pride wars with his need, and lust ultimately wins. With a low curse under his breath, Harry swings his legs out of bed, pulling on a pair of loose shorts.

He walks silently down the hallway, heart hammering as he passes Emma's door. One wrong sound and his life could be in ruins.

The guest room door creaks softly as he eases it open, the sound loud in the stillness. You're lying there in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, sheets pushed down to your thighs, wearing nothing but a thin tank top and panties, and he curses under his breath at the sight.

You lift your head, a smug little smile curving your lips. ''I knew it.''

''Shut up,'' Harry groans, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He crosses the room in two strides, wasting no time. His large hands grab the hem of your tank top and rip it upward, yanking it over your head with impatient force. The panties follow, tugged down your legs roughly until you're completely bare beneath him. ''You've been a fucking tease all day. Thought you would get away with it?''

Before you can respond, his mouth is on yours in a bruising kiss, your tongues sliding desperately. His hands roam greedily over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples until you whimper into his mouth. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips lower, latching onto one nipple with wet, sucking heat. When you moan softly, his hand clamps firmly over your mouth, muffling the sound.

''Quiet,'' he hisses against your skin, biting down on the sensitive peak as punishment. The sharp sting makes your back arch, fresh wetness slicking between your thighs. He switches to the other nipple, sucking hard and biting again each time a sound escapes you, his eyes dark with unconstrained lust and frustration. ''Look at you. Already soaked and I've barely touched you. This what you wanted? Parading around in that tiny bikini, rubbing yourself all over me in front of my daughter like a desperate little slut so I would come fuck you?''

His words are condescending, each one hitting deeper as he works his way down your body. He pushes your thighs apart roughly, settling between them. ''An older man, your best friend's father, no less. So fucking pathetic and greedy.'' He leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds in one long, slow lick, groaning at the taste.

You're dripping, embarrassingly wet, and he makes sure you know it. ''Pathetic. This cunt is weeping for me after one day without my cock.'' His hand stays clamped over your mouth as he devours you, tongue relentlessly fucking into you, sucking on your clit with obscene wet sounds that feel far too loud in the quiet house.

When your hips buck and a muffled cry vibrates against his palm, he bites your inner thigh lightly in warning. ''Emma's right next door. You want her to hear what a whore her best friend is?''

Harry doesn't let up. He adds two thick fingers, curling them perfectly against that spot inside you while his mouth works your clit relentlessly. Your orgasm crashes over you fast and hard, thighs trembling around his head, screams swallowed by his hand. He doesn't give you time to recover. He sheds his shorts, his cock springing free, thick, hard, and leaking. ''On top. Now. Ride me like you've been dying to all day.''

You straddle him eagerly, sinking down onto his length with a shared groan. The stretch is perfect, filling you completely. Harry's hands grip your hips bruisingly as he guides you, thrusting up into you to meet your movements. ''That's it. Good fucking girl. Take every inch. This is what you've been begging for with all your little games, isn't it?''

Sweat slicks your skin as you ride him harder, the bed creaking softly. He pulls you down by the hair for another messy kiss, swallowing your moans. Then he flips you suddenly, putting you on all fours.

''Face in the pillow,'' he orders, pushing your head down. The new angle lets him drive deeper, hips snapping against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. His hand cracks down in a sharp spank, then another, the sting blooming hot across your skin. ''Teasing me while my daughter sat right there, completely clueless. You're lucky I didn't bend you over the table in front of her and her little date.'' His filthy words trigger your orgasm and he fucks you right through it, your cries muffled into the pillow as your best friend sleeps unknowingly just a wall away.

His groans are guttural when you clamp down around him, the sounds soft yet absolutely wrecked. When he finally nears the edge, he pulls out abruptly and strokes himself once, twice, before pushing back in deep and pulsing inside you in thick, warm spurts.

He stays there for a moment, catching his breath, then pulls out and leans down to whisper in your ear, ''You're gonna sleep with my come dripping out of you all night like the slut you are, got it?''

You hum weakly.

''Stay just like that,'' he says, voice rough as he watches his cum slowly leak from your swollen pussy. ''Don't you dare clean up.'' He tugs his shorts back on, already moving toward the door.

You whine softly, turning your head. ''You're just leaving?''

Harry pauses, then grabs your face firmly with one hand, squeezing your cheeks enough to make your lips pout. His grip is tight, dominant, eyes flashing with an intoxicating mix of anger and lust.

''Are you going to act like a fucking brat after I just gave you what you wanted? Stop pushing me or I'll make sure the next time hurts more than it feels good.'' He notices the way your eyes glaze with submission at the rough handling, the spark of something deeper, and mentally files it away for later. Interesting. He releases you, presses one last hard kiss to your lips, and slips out of the room as quietly as he entered.

You lie there in the afterglow, body spent and trembling, his cum warm and sticky inside you. The house is quiet once more, Emma's room silent next door. Satisfaction settles deep in your bones, mixed with that aching want for more. You drift off like that, marked by him, wondering what he'll do to you the next time his restraint snaps.

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

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About three months ago, the company for which Harry worked had started their expansion, and he was to lead the people transferred to that section of the firm. With the expansion also came new employees, and that’s where you came in.

You had been temporarily hired by the company to weed out applicants, and assist the current HR manager to help with the job interviews.

Harry still remembers that first day when you walked into the office, all nervous and fidgety. He had spotted you through the glass walls of his office, and couldn't physically tear his eyes off of you.

It wasn't until your third day helping in the office, that you actually met Harry. You had no idea what to think of him. Well, besides the obvious, of course. He was ridiculously handsome, and from the way he was staring at you, you figured that maybe he was thinking something like that about you too.

But he didn't talk.

Your first time meeting consisted of nothing but a gruff 'nice to meet you' from Harry's side, and no input in the rest of the conversation whatsoever. It was only a couple days later, when you asked the HR manager about it, that you found out that's just how he was, that he didn't really talk to anyone. From that moment on, there had been a surge of motivation to let him make you the one exception.

Harry was just fascinated by you, and he had no idea why. You were a ball of energy, talking so fast you'd think someone had clicked on your 'sped up' button, and you were chaotic, all over the place. The amount of times he watched you bump into people was impossible to keep count of.

Then, one day, you bumped into him. It should have angered him, the spilt coffee on his pants. But he had an extra suit, and you looked so worried, he didn't want to make you feel worse. You still felt bad, though, so you decided to make it up to him, and started getting him coffee every morning.

By the end of the first week, he looked you in the eyes when he thanked you. By the end of the fourth, he'd ask you how you are and recall things you'd told him. By the end of sixth, he told you things about his life, and by the end of the tenth week, you were having longer conversations with him.

It was difficult to keep up the small talk with him in the beginning. You soon found out that his lone wolf attitude may had something to do with his awkwardness. You thought, perhaps people weren't willing to work through that, and eventually he just stopped trying.

Such a prospect made you sad, and it only motivated you more to get to know him better. Of course, the longing glances, and standing unnecessarily close to each other with his knuckles barely touching your arm, those things helped too.

There was an undeniable tension between the two of you that you found incredibly difficult to decipher. The way he'd let you catch him looking at you gave it away quite clearly, but the lack of any real initiative confused you.

Had you read it all wrong? Did he even think there was something there too?

Unfortunately, there was no way to find out, as your assignment at the company was coming to an end. Today had been your last day, and tonight is a launch party to officially celebrate the expansion of the company.

You were a little sad to leave the company, especially since you really liked the people working there. It is why you are most excited for tonight.

Wearing a long yellow dress—it is your favorite color—you stride into the building. You are mesmerized by all the balloons and how pretty everyone looks. Wearing expensive suits or classy dresses. You immediately realize you might be a bit too happily dressed; everyone is wearing darker colors.

It does make it easy for everyone to spot you, though. By the time you've gotten your drink, five people have already walked up to you. About half an hour into the party, the CEO of the company takes the stage to give a small speech.

"I would like to thank everyone who has participated in making this expansion go as smoothly as it did. Your work does not go unnoticed." He says through the microphone. Everyone claps for a few seconds, and the man waits to go on until it is quiet again.

"Now, I have a special announcement to make. I have wanted to make this expansion happen since I began working for this company in 1988. Now that I finally have, I feel that my job at this firm is done. And so, I have decided to retire from my position as CEO."

Your eyes widen at the speech; you had no idea this was even a thing. By the sound of the gasps and murmurs traveling through the room, you deduce that the news is unexpected for the rest of the company as well.

"It is also with great pride that I present the new CEO of our company, chosen after careful consideration. If mr. Harry Styles could please join me on stage."

Your mouth falls open at the mention of Harry's name, and you are certain you will never be able to close it again when you see him walking onto the stage. He wears a black suit, perfectly tailored to his body, and the sight of him has you concerned that you may be drooling.

The bald man hands the microphone to Harry, who does not look very pleased to be on stage; it almost seems like he is regretting his decisions. Until his eyes meet yours, that is when you see him let out a breath.

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson." He says, breaking eye contact to look at his former boss.

Right, that was his name, Johnson.

"I look forward to leading this company into more successes, and I promise that I will put my heart and soul into it. I have worked at this firm ever since I graduated college and they offered me a job during my internship, and it is safe to say that I have not regretted that decision a day of my life. I have always been loyal to this company, and I will remain loyal to you. Thank you."

You are perplexed. Why did he never tell you about this? You are very happy for him, but you do find it weird. It also makes you doubt again. Did whatever you had been building up the last months not mean as much to Harry as it did to you?

Well, it doesn't really matter, you're gone after tonight anyway.

Once the shock of the news has calmed down a bit, the party resumes as normal. Most people visit Harry one by one to congratulate him on the position, but you steer clear from him. It is no use, after tonight you will probably never see him again anyway.

Time passes, and you think you're ready to go home. There was a file in the office you forgot to sign earlier today, so you head up to do that first. The office is entirely dark when you walk out of the elevator. It's kind of eerie, so you are quick to turn on the lights.

It takes you a few minutes to find the file, since the receptionist placed it on someone else's desk. You find it on your colleague's desk, and walk over to the receptionist desk to sign it. Laying it on the keyboard of her computer, you pray that she won't displace it again, and make your way back to the elevators.

A loud shriek escapes you when Harry suddenly walks around the corner. He covers his ears at the high pitched sound, shocked by how much he scared you. With your hand on your chest you try and steady your breathing.

"Jesus, you scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry, didn't mean to." He says, a bit of worry in his tone. You look up at him.

"What are you even doing up here?"

"I was looking for you." He shrugs.

"Why?" Your eyebrows furrow, that same old tension in your stomach settling like it does every time Harry looks at you for longer than two seconds.

"You've been avoiding me." He answers casually, and you feel your heart drop. You didn't think he'd catch onto it.

"Congratulations by the way, for being the CEO. That was definitely a surprise." There is a bitterness in your tone. It is Harry's turn to frown. He hears the condescension, but his mind can't seem to come to a conclusion. Why are you angry? It's so hard to tell.

This is why he doesn't do people.

"You're mad that I am CEO?" He guesses, and your mouth falls open, much like it did when Harry's new position got announced.

"What?! Of course not! I'm very happy for you." You sputter out. The last thing you'd want him to think is that you don't want him to be happy or satisfied or successful.

"But you're still avoiding me." He repeats slowly. "You know, I didn't tell you about it because no one was supposed to know. I had to sign for it and everything. It's nothing personal."

The painful grip that his potential distrust in you had on your heart releases at the sound of his words. You could have known that it was due to something like that, you work in HR after all. That fact alone makes you realize how invested you unknowingly had become in Harry.

"I...I figured." You give him a weak smile. Harry's eyes search for yours, holding onto your gaze once he has found it. You stay like that, staring at each other for a while until you break the silence.

"I'm heading home. I don't think I'll see you again, so good luck. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."

With much difficulty, you manage to look away from Harry and walk past him. At least, you try to, because halfway through, Harry's hand grabs your arm. You stop in your tracks, looking back at the man who stopped you. The man who has been sending you mixed signals for the past few months.

"D– do you want to join me in my office?"

You refrain from the shiver that threatens to run down your entire body, and nod. Harry's hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he intertwines his fingers with yours before he leads you to the glass doors that belong to him. On your way there, he flicks off the lights, leaving the two of you in the dark.

The city lights light up the otherwise pitch dark office that belongs to Harry, for now. He will be moved to the CEO's office when he starts his new position.

You don't say anything as Harry closes the door, or as he walks to the closet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. You wait in anticipation of what he's going to do.

But then he sits down. He just sits down on his chair.

You stand there, staring at him, utterly confused about this man and his intentions with you, while he obliviously pours the whiskey into the glasses. In that moment, there is a switch inside of you, one that says: fuck it. This is your last day, you need a way to release this pent up tension, and you probably won't see him ever again after this. What have you got to lose? Nothing.

You walk over to the desk and sit down on it, extremely close to Harry. The split of your dress shows your bare, freshly shaved leg, and he seems to notice. His eyes pull to your legs like magnets, and he has to force himself to look you in the eyes as he hands you the glass of whiskey.

You try your best not to smirk at the effectiveness of your plan, focusing on your next move instead. Straight for the kill.

"So, why am I here, Harry?" You ask nonchalantly, taking a sip of your whiskey. It tastes quite strong, and it takes you a lot of effort not to have an expressive reaction to it.

"What?" He asks, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"Why'd you take me here?" You ask again, setting down your glass at the table before moving to stand in front of him. "To admire the view?"

Harry looks out the window, but his head shoots back to you when he notices you're sinking onto your knees in front of him. He thinks he may have forgotten to breathe as he observes the lustful look in your eyes. His eyes travel down to your tits, even more visible from this angle.

"Because I've admired it every day for the past three months." You continue. Harry swallows, frozen by the overload of his brain and the sensitivity of the growing constraint in these pants. "Why don't you take your pants off for me? Just enough to give me your cock. I like you in this suit."

Harry doesn't let another second fly by before he is unbuckling his pants, sliding it down just enough for you to have access to his cock and his balls. Your mouth waters at the size and girth of it, your cunt getting wetter with every passing moment.

You shimmy forward, leaning over his cock and grabbing it with your hand. Harry sighs at the minimal contact, making you feel even more powerful. Looking up at him through your lashes, you ask him one more question.

"You'll hold my hair, won't you?"

With that, you take Harry in your mouth as far as you can, before pulling away from him. A gasp leaves his mouth, and his eyes fall shut as you pump him with your hand while your mouth kisses and sucks on the head of his cock. You begin licking and kissing down his cock, while your hand softly feels up his balls.

Harry feels like he is in heaven already, and he forgets everything around him. It is only when you completely remove yourself from him that he opens his eyes again, and he sees. Catching on quickly, he leans forward and gathers your hair, twisting it around his palm.

Satisfied with Harry's obedience, your mouth attaches itself to his cock again. You take him slowly, teasingly, and move your head up and down. With every movement, you take him an inch deeper.

"Oh, f–fuck!" He groans out when you gag on him because you took yourself too far too fast. You steady your breathing, which is a bit more complicated as you can only breathe out your nose. You resume sucking him off for a bit longer, bobbing your head down a bit faster. The small sounds that leaves Harry's lips, along with his scrunched up face, gives you enough indication that he is approaching his climax.

So you remove your mouth from his cock.

He lets out a whine at the loss of contact. If your panties weren't wet before, they certainly are now. You smile at the state of him; desperate and needy for you. The fact that you've managed to make him fall apart like this makes you incredibly horny.

"I want to take all of you in my mouth, daddy." You tell him, looking up at him with your big eyes. "You'll have to help me."

You went out on a bit of a limb when you decided to call him daddy, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. In fact, Harry's eyes light up and his jaw slacks at the mention of the pet name.

"Shit– anything, sweetheart. Whatever you need." He croaks out.

"I need you to fuck my mouth." You respond sternly, not wasting any time and taking him between your lips again. You push yourself down his cock as far as you can, breathing deeply before moving your hand to Harry's hand, which is holding onto your hair, and pushing your head forward to indicate that he needs to push his cock down your throat.

Again, it doesn't take him long to listen, because Harry's hips thrust forward, his dick gliding into your throat. You moan at the force with which he pushed, and keep your mouth wide open as you let Harry navigate your head.

Once he fully understands that you are allowing him to let him use your mouth, the true fun begins. With the firm grip he has on your head, he pushes you up and down at an ungodly speed. Your jaw is already tiring from its locked position, but you power through it because the sounds that leave Harry's mouth make up for it.

"Fuck baby, such a good mouth. Never had anything like this... Jesus!" He pants out as he begins to thrust up into your mouth, and you feel like you might pass out. Suddenly, he pulls you away from his dick.

You frown, and realize as he is grabbing for a tissue that he is avoiding messing up your face. You don't stand for it, though, and wrap your lips around his cock again just in time for him to come inside your mouth. You take him deeper and feel the way his sperm shoots in the back of your throat.

"Fuck! Shit, shit..." The not so wide arrange of curse words are the only thing Harry is capable of saying as he dumps his load inside your mouth. The fact that you were so adamant about having his sperm in your mouth made his orgasm even more intense.

Your mouth lets go of his cock with an exaggerated plop, and you swallow every last bit of him, grinning at his fucked out face.

"That was... amazing." He sighs, his gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes. You hum in agreement, and get up from the floor as he pulls up his pants. You are about to walk away, when Harry grabs your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." You answer with a smile, but Harry's grip on you only tightens. He shakes his head, his lips pouting.

"No, you need to stay. Let me make you feel good too." He protests. You squint your eyes at him.

"I don't need to do anything."

Harry's eyes widen. "You're right. But just let me make you feel good before you go, please? It's the least I can do."

Your mouth slowly forms into a grin, glad to have him where you want. Well, almost.

"Beg me."

Harry scoffs. "Are you serious? I don't really do begging."

You shrug, smiling at him. "That's fine. My vibrator can get me off too."

You take a few steps towards the door, while Harry contemplates his decisions. However, those were all clouded by the sole moment to please you the second you mentioned your vibrator. The image of you getting off like that is too much to bear. He needs to do it for you.

"Stop." He says. You turn around, and walk back to him as he gets out of his chair and gets on his knees. Grabbing your waist, he pulls you closer, his nose digging into your dress. His hands run up and down your legs, and it is making you weak in your knees.

"Please, let me eat you out baby. I'll do anything to make you feel good. I need to taste you so bad, please let me pleasure you."

You swallow, eyelids ready heavy, as you sigh out. "Alright."

Harry grins at your admittance of defeat, and stands up. He leads you to sit on his desk, your dress hiked up. He removes the stuff behind you, so that you can lean back entirely in case you want to, and waltzes over to his chair.

Spreading your legs, he rolls himself closer to you, and assesses your soaking wet panties. Chuckling, he leans to the side and grabs a pair of scissors, before he cuts the skimpy material from your body. You'd say something of it, but the sight of him admiring your pussy like this is too fascinating to interrupt. So, you keep quiet.

When Harry's thumb suddenly presses on your clit and begins to rub it, you can't help but gasp. His touch feels too good, and that blowjob got you really worked up.

"You have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this." Harry says, marveling at how reactive you are being.

"Me too."

His eyebrows rise up. "Yeah? Tell me more, baby."

You bite your lip, too obsessed with the pet name he's given you. It sounds so sexy coming from his mouth. He awaits your response with bright eyes, lazily rubbing your clit.

"Your arms... I'd think about them so much. And your hands, I'd imagine you choking me with them. They're so big..." You begin, and you know that you could go on for hours if you had to tell him about everything you've thought about doing with him, or doing to him.

Harry doesn't say anything, instead responds with two fingers entering your pussy. You moan at the feeling of his large fingers pumping in and out of you. It feels way fuller than your hand already. His two fingers is the equivalent of your three fingers.

"We can definitely make those fantasies come true..." Harry says softly. "But first, let's make you come, hmm?"

You nod, your head falling back and allowing yourself to fully indulge in the pleasure Harry's giving you right now. You let yourself lay on his desk, wrapping your legs around his shoulders.

"Fuck, that feels good– oh fuck!" You shriek out when Harry tongue begins attacking your tongue after he adds a third finger. He speeds up the movements of his hand to match those of his tongue, and holds onto that tempo until your mind can't conjure up any more words to speak to him.

With the control entirely out of your hands, you let Harry guide you to your orgasm, which washes over your body like a tidal wave. You unconsciously push Harry's head further into your pussy with your legs. With an arched back, you moan at the sensitivity of your clit.

Harry lets you take a minute to catch your breath before he pulls on your arms to have you sit up straight. He is smiling sweetly at you, and your heart warms at it.

"You okay?" He asks, kissing your hands. You nod, trying to ignore the flutters in your heart at the way he is being so gentle.

"Thank you for letting me make you feel good, baby." He says, getting up and leaning into your face. His nose brushes against your cheek as he plants his lips on yours. Your arms wrap around Harry's neck as you kiss him deeper, too caught up in how good he feels and how much you want him.

You're never this greedy. You've never felt like you needed a man's cock inside of you. Like it was the only feasible option. You feel it driving you crazy, and you're sure it is the only reason you say— no, ask:

"Please, fuck me."

The grin that forms on Harry's lips makes you feel like you should regret what you said. A grin like that usually belongs on your face in situations like these. But you need him so bad, you don't really care that you are the desperate one this time.

"Oh, you're begging now too, huh?" He says cockily. You glare at him, pissed that he's acknowledging your neediness and mocking you for it too.

"It's alright baby, I'll give it to you. 'M cock's already hard again from watching you come like that. So fucking sexy..." He says. He pulls his pants down and lifts you off the table, turning you around to the glass windows and pushing your hands against them. "Bend over a bit and speak your legs for me, baby."

You do as he says, biting your lip at Harry's hand that pushes away your dress and roams over your ass. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes himself into you, sighing in pure relief. You shut your eyes tightly at the size of him filling you up.

"Fuck, you feel good baby." He says, slowly beginning to move in and out a bit. You let out a soft 'yes', causing Harry's jaw to clench. He spanks your ass, watching as it bounces from the impact, and his cock twitching at your yelp.

"Perfect fucking ass... perfect fucking girl, aren't you?" He groans, now lazily thrusting into you. He wants to give you time to adjust, but he learns your wishes when you begin to push yourself back into him.

"Ah, I see. Greedy girl wants to speed things up, hmm? Your wish is my command." He mocks, but does speed up his pace. His hands hold your waist as he begins to pound himself into you, your ass shaking at the impact. He spanks your ass again for good measure, obsessed with the way it moves.

You nearly lose yourself in how good it feels, but you know that he can get deeper than this.

"I want to ride you... want to feel you in my tummy." You spit out, hoping he understands what you're saying in your croaky voice.

Harry listens, pulling himself out of you immediately and taking a seat in the chair. You turn around and walk over to him, throwing your legs on both sides of his lap, before grabbing his cock and sinking yourself down on it.

It goes smoother this time, but Harry's really deep now, just like you wanted. The sensation is everything to you, and it isn’t hard to tell how good it feels for him too. Glad to have a bit of the control back, you start to bounce on his cock.

Harry’s eyes travel over your body, fascinated by the way you are moving above him. His hands travel to the straps of your dress and push them down until he can get your tits out of the top part of your dress. He begins to massage them as you keep impaling yourself on his dick over and over again.

"Fuck, daddy, you feel so good... so good for me. Listening to me. Knew this was the best way to fuck you... you love it." You slur happily. Harry nods profusely at your words, jaw clenched and moaning out in pleasure.

"Yes, needed it so bad baby. You're fucking daddy so good..."

You smile at how caught up Harry looks in his pleasure, like he doesn't know what to do with it. You, however, do know what to with it. You grab one of his hands and wrap it around your throat, before you do the same to him. With his hand on your neck and yours on his, you begin to fuck him as fast as you can.

"Ah, fffuck... shit! Holy shit!" He yells out, and automatically thrusts himself up into you, reaching an even further level of deepness you had never thought possible. That along with your hands on each other’s necks, is enough to know that your climaxes are near.

"Come inside me daddy." You pant out, and he does. It is as if your permission set him off. You smile in delight at the feel and knowledge of his cum being so deep inside of you.

You fuck Harry through his orgasm, and even after. He squirms in his seat. "Wait— too sensitive."

"I don't care, I haven't come yet. Don't you want to make me feel good? Have me coming around your thick cock?" You say sensually, and Harry nods. "Words."

"Yes– fuck! I want you to come, please come around my cock. Please, please..." He begins to beg, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Your toes curl at his whiny voice, and soon your juices are gushing all over his cock. Your pussy contracting around him seems to set Harry off even more, as you feel even more sperm spraying out of his dick and into your walls.

You ride out your high until you can't move anymore. You sit there, forehead pressed against Harry's as you both come down from what just happened.

After a minute or two, you decide to pull out. Slowly but surely, you manage to get Harry's dick out of you without hissing too much at the sensitivity of every single body part down there.

You lean against the desk, too wobbly to stand on your own, and you let Harry wipe you clean with the tissues on his desk. After cleaning himself up, he stands up and positions himself in front of you.

"Hey." He says. Your hand cups his jaw and your thumb wipes away the tear that is far down his face now.

"Hi." You tilt your head. The both of you burst out laughing, still surprised by what went down just now.

"That was really good." He says once the laughter has died down. You nod in agreement.

"Good enough for a repeat?"

Harry pretends to think it over, before he responds: "under one condition."

"And what would that be?" You quirk up an eyebrow, intrigued by his vagueness. He smiles at you so wide that you wonder if his mouth might be hurting.

"You let me take you out on a date first."

You roll your eyes, pretending not to be amused as he chuckles at your reaction. But the second you see the look on his face and the sincerity behind it, you realize that he is being quite serious about this request. You bite your lip, wanting to kiss him right then and there.

I don’t wanna hear about him - itslottiehere

Categories: Angst, Friendship, Jealousy

Summary: Based on “Him” the song. It’s a greatly written story about two best friends having feelings for one another but in different periods of time. One of them has already figured out that the best she could do is to move on, and the other is just comprehending that he is in love with her. They’re both challenged by their own perspective of the relationship, trying to do what is best for the other and for themselves.

The silent type - purplecoffee13

Categories : Smut, Office Sex

Summary : Y/n made it her mission to get Harry, her discret and quiet colleague to warm up toward her. On her last night at the office, she make an unexpected move on him that is going to offer her exactly what she wants and more.

You’re so golden - midnightloversmusic

Categories : Smut, Outdoor sex

Summary : The temperature being absolutely unbearable, Y/n and Harry spend the day around the pool hoping to cool off. Sadly, they end up making each other feel even hotter.

Just like the movies - purplecoffee13

Categories : Smut, Best Friends

Summary : Y/n accidentally rented adult movies for one of her traditional movie night with her best friend Harry. If it seems to really amuse him, it provokes something completely different in Y/n.

Nanny makes three - harryhitties

Categories : Smut, Threesome

Summary : Harry and his wife Ava want to give a new mission to their nanny and it as nothing to do with the kids.

Flower 1,2 - jarofstyles

Categories : Friends to Lovers

Summary : A friend of Y/n makes her see harry real intentions and it change everything between them.

Favor 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 - jarofstyles

Categories : Smut, Forbidden relationship

Summary : Y/N has an itch she can’t scratch, one that her boyfriend refuses to touch- so he calls in someone who knows what he’s doing. Harry is a seasoned player of kink, a man of many talents and the perfect person to teach her all about the intricacies and dynamics of the world she had been denied by her lover.

Thirst Unleashed - cherryblossomwriting

Categories : Smut, Lactation kink

Summary : After having their baby, Y/N’s breasts are bursting with milk and Harry helps her relieve some of the pain.

Something Unholy ( Sex club owner) - erodasfishtacos

Categories : Smut, Dom Harry

Summary : YN and Arthur have to adjust their arrangement. The first scene leaves YN hopeless and wondering if she should even come back to the club.

Professor Harry invites a third - gurugirl

Categories : Smut, Inappropriate relationships, Threesome

Summary : Harry is your professor and he's been fucking you since the beginning of the semester but tonight, he's invited another girl to play with you.

Far from sober 1 , 2 - eveningepiphany

Categories : Brother’s best friend

Summary : you’re incredibly drunk, and when you are it comes with you having an obscene lack of a filter. harry being the sweetheart he is, is trying to get you back into your hotel room in one piece. he was not ready for you to be so touchy.

NFWMB 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, - purplecoffee13

Categories : Smut

Summary : Harry is a retired boxer who owns a gym and teaches self-defense classes. He considers himself a strong man, but when a gorgeous innocent woman attends a try-out class, she manages to leave him weak in the knees…

Wet dreams just dangling - swiftmendeshoran

Categories : Teasing, Pre-smut

Summary : Y/n decided to go for a swim after suffering from the heat all day, that’s when she meet Harry, her lounge chair neighbour.

She likes to watch - gurugirl

Categories : Married Harry, Smut, Sharing partners

Summary : Harry and his wife have an interesting lifestyle but when they invite you over for a night of fun you realize you're more into it than you thought you'd be.

Nerdy H - purplecoffe13

Categories : Office crush

Summary : Harry have a crush on Y/n, his co worker, and he’s not necessarily “smooth” but she finds it charming and sweet.

Stay - jarofstyles

Categories : Angst, Fuck buddies

Summary : Harry and Y/n are fuck buddies but he catches feelings and don’t know how to act around her.

Through my eyes - jarofstyles

Categories : Smut, Photograph Harry

Summary : Y/n and Harry are assigned a project together and it takes an interesting turn.

Selfish 1 , 2 - jarofstyles

Categories : Friends to lovers, Angst

Summary : Harry has feelings for his best friend Y/n, but he convinced himself that she’s too good for him. He start giving all his attention to other girls to distract himself but he broke Y/n’s heart on the way.

Thigh riding - swiftmendeshoran

Categories : Mean dom / Smut

Summary : Y/n rides Harry’s thigh and he’s just watching.

Pretty - harstyle

Categories : Friends to Lovers, Angst

Summary : Your best friend might just be the hottest, most gentleman-liest guy you‘ve ever laid eyes on, so it’s a real shame you‘re not “his type of pretty”.

Slip-Up - heartateasee

Categories : Angst, Friends to Lovers, Smut

Summary : It's your birthday, and you and your roommate, Harry, are meant to be going out with friends. However, when you arrive home from work, you discover Harry is otherwise... preoccupied.

Casual - jarofstyles

Categories : Smut

Summary : Harry playing with his lovie's pussy, like caressing her lips and rubbing her clit here and there while they're watching a movie or reading and it's just so casual…

Lessons - eveningepiphany

Categories : Smut, friends to lovers

Summary : Sitting on harry’s couch, he gets it out of you that you have never intimately touched someone else, and he offers straight up for you to learn off him.

Baby Daddy - gurugirl

Categories : Friends to Lovers

Summary : After you have a one-night stand with your good friend Harry and become pregnant he doesn't know for certain that the baby is his, but he has his suspicions.

Piercing - harryhitties

Categories : Smut, Piercer Harry

Summary : You go to get your clit pierced and harry styles is your piercer.

Busy - purplecoffe13

Categories : Smut, Teasing

Summary : Harry has to work on a Saturday, and it leaves you quite frustrated. You settle on a compromise…

Role call - temptress-writes

Categories : Smut, Tension

Summary : Y/n and her history professor.

Intimacy - goldengalore

Categories : Smut, Soft dom!harry

Summary : Y/N hasn't been intimate with someone in a long time, which makes her nervous about having sex with Harry for the first time.

Dilf - gurugirl

Categories : Smut, Age gap

Summary : Y/n meets an older man at a bar and she's not taking no for an answer. Harry likes her persistence.

Wedding Band Cuts - erodasfishtacos

Categories : Established relationship, Smut

Harry genuinely hated when she didn’t travel with the team. It felt like a piece of him was missing. And perhaps maybe, just as important, it felt like a teammate was missing. As much as he hated sharing her with his best friends, it all felt incomplete and he wasn’t the only one that noticed. Asher called out to her on the plane only to be reminded that she skipped this trip.

“Can’t you pay her more, Charlie?” Callie sighed heavily from the other side of the plane.

“I tried,” he rolled his eyes.

“Just take it from Harry’s salary,” Lang suggested. “You overpay him anyway.”

“Hey!” He pouted.

“I tried that too,” Ray called back.

Niall chuckled from beside Harry; he rolled his eyes at his so-called best friend and punched him in the arm for laughing at the joke. “It’s all going to the same place,” Callie grumbled.

“I tried explaining that as well,” Charlie said.

Harry ignored the rest of the team discussing his salary and tried his hardest to focus on anything but how much he missed her. Sitting with Niall was nice but he wasn’t as pretty as his girlfriend. Definitely didn’t smell as nice. He also didn’t snuggle with him (not that he wanted to snuggle with Niall), but he’d grown quite accustomed to her body tucked into his side for plane rides and not having that made him feel a lot colder than the ice rink ever made him feel. He even considered asking Niall to snuggle with him.

His phone pinged with a message from her. Have a safe flight! ❤️

His heart skipped a beat seeing her name scroll across his screen. Like it had been months since he’d seen her and not days. He wanted to answer it, but he knew she probably scheduled it for when their plane was going to take off. Texting her back now meant he would wake her up at one in the morning when she was probably exhausted from her shift at Louis’. He found out months ago that she kept her phone on loud while he traveled at night (in case there was an emergency). Which made his heart ache and he didn’t want to bother her any further.

It really made no sense for them to be apart. It was clearly bad for her health.

But it was fine. There would be time for rest for a four-day stint, and he planned on not leaving the bed. Especially if she was in it. He was itching to get back to her. It was a five-day away game stretch. He missed his bed, his girl, his home rink. Normally she’d have come along, but Louis asked if she wouldn’t mind filling in at the bar because someone else was out.

She worked a lot less at the Locker Room and she was simply too sweet to say no. Harry didn’t blame her. He thought it was kind and lovely of her to help Louis out and he knew she wouldn’t mind. He just missed her. A lot. A ridiculous amount, even. Like he hadn’t spent every day texting and calling her every free moment he had throughout the trip without her.

It was the first time in a long while they’d be apart for longer than two or three days. Harry insisted he could come home partway through the trip for a day if she wanted him to. He broached the idea the day before he had to leave. He was feeling quite crummy about going. Probably because it had been so long since they’d spent so much time apart. Lying beside her in bed with her pretty warm skin against his, made it feel next to impossible that he had to leave her the following day. His dick was already hard from just holding her and he had just finished another round of goodbye sex prior to asking. It felt impossible to go an hour without her legs wrapped around his hips or head and now he had to go five.

“Harry, of course I’d love for you to come home. But that’s kind of a waste of our collective energy. I’ll be working late. You’ll be tired. We probably wouldn’t see much of each other and if we do, we’ll be so tired. It’s probably not worth it.”

“You’re very worth it,” he grumbled into her neck. He tucked his thigh between her legs and flexed ever so slightly.

“Don’t do that,” she mumbled and tugged gently at his hair to pull his face away from her neck. “I know what you’re doing.”

“M’not doing anything,” he murmured innocently without looking up at her. “Just thought y’might be too tired t’go another full round but might need something for friction,” he shrugged one shoulder.

“Harry.”

“Bunny,” he sighed heavily. “I don’t want to go.”

She kissed the side of his head and rubbed her hand down his arm. “You’re silly.”

“Jus’ come with me.”

“I already did.”

He flexed his quad again and she gasped softly. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Rookie.”

“Your thigh is making it hard to focus,” she admitted.

“Good.”

“It’ll go quick. We’ll be busy. Time apart will be nice. More explosive when you come home,” she giggled. He rolled his eyes and slid his hand down her body to find where her body met his thigh.

“I don’t think time apart could make this anymore explosive.”

He was pretty confident he was right, but at the very least willing to find out if was wrong. The plane ride wasn’t particularly long, but it felt longer as he was anxiously waiting for the captain to announce the descent. It felt like it was taking ages; longer than normal. Or maybe it was because after two hours of chaos and raucous behavior from a team of hockey boys in an enclosed metal tube without a pretty Bunny buffer to keep them in check, everyone had fallen asleep on their red-eye flight.

It was just Harry it seemed, scrolling through his phone looking at pictures of his pretty girl. Admiring the main screen background (the picture of her he asked her to send before they even started dating). Looking through messages of how much he missed her.

He was putty to her.

After what felt like a century, he nudged Niall awake as the captain finally let them know they’d be landing soon. Harry’s knee was bouncing like crazy as they landed and the rest of the team slowly woke up.

Harry was sure he wasn’t the only one who heard it, but the distinct sound of a phone dropped to the and slid along the floor of the plane for who knew how long—maybe the entire length of the plane. “My phone!” Callie called.

“For the love of God,” Lang sighed.

“You’re supposed to stow it during landing. How do you not know this?” Asher grumbled tiredly.

“Fuck off,” he pouted and Niall glanced under and around his feet. “Harry is it under—”

“I literally don’t care, Callie. I want t’go home t’my girl.”

“You’re so whipped. We missed her too you know.”

“I don’t care. She’s mine,” and if Callie had a rebuttal, Harry didn’t hear it. As soon as the flight attendants moved the door out of the way he was rushing past his teammates, his coaches and all the other staff.

“See you for dinner,” Charlie called. “Tell her I said I missed her too.”

Harry nodded politely to his, for all purposes, “uncle-in-law.” The only one Harry would entertain about missing or loving his girlfriend aside from him. “See you Coach,” he waved and hurried faster off the plane before Callie had the whole team crawling on the floor to find his phone or someone stopped him for an autograph at four in the morning.

Harry tapped his foot impatiently waiting for his duffle bag and once it was barely in his hand, he was rushing to the front entrance to find his ride. For early morning flights, he always got a driver and always tipped extra well for him to get back to his place as quickly as humanly possible.

As he got out of the car, felt himself breathing easier almost instantly. He could practically smell her perfume wafting from the house, and he was still only in the driveway. His phone vibrated with another message.

Wake me when you get home ❤️ It was clearly scheduled as well, and Harry couldn’t wait to get inside and get his hands on her. He should have been tired. Should have been excited to sleep in his cozy bed but was nearly vibrating with excitement to see her again.

He unlocked the house and dropped his bag, kicked off his shoes and shed his other layers until he was just in his underwear. He wanted to make sure that regardless of what happened in the next couple hours, he had to get himself up before her so he could clean up his mess. He practically kept his eyes closed as he silently padded through their bedroom knowing he wouldn’t make it to the bathroom to wash his hands and brush his teeth if he took one look at her beforehand.

After cleaning himself up just a bit, he returned to the bed watching the early dawn light seep through the blinds. He wasn’t surprised that the sun was also trying to find a way to touch her. It was probably how it got it’s brightness: directly from her. But it was the sunlight that barely crept in that stretched across the room and landed on her sleeping form.

Harry sighed with relief, like it was a miracle she was still there. He knelt beside the bed and brushed her hair back so he could see her. Her pretty face was smushed against her pillow that she was clutching while lying flat on her stomach. Harry smiled and pressed his lips to her temple, and he felt so much better having his lips attached to her. The anxiety he felt while he was gone started to dissipate the moment he caught sight of her.

Harry noted there was nothing on her shoulders. Which was lovely but he didn’t know why she was half-naked while asleep when he wasn’t there. Maybe she was aching too much and had to take care of herself. However, Harry didn’t get a phone call from her or anything to help her with some self-care. It didn’t seem to add up that she would do that on her own.

But the sun was doing him all kinds of favors this morning and was the one that spoiled her secret.

On her left shoulder blade, there it was.

He tugged the comforter out of the way a little more and brushed her hair away from her body. There was some pinkness around the black ink and Harry’s heart was beating fast again.

A pair of hockey sticks crossed at the bend, the handles bent back to form a heart. Within the heart was the number eleven and an HS that overlaid pieces of the eleven.

Either the HS or the eleven would have been more than sufficient. Both were magical. But upon closer inspection he knew he was looking at his own, actual initials.

He realized she asked him for his initials a few weeks prior. It was breakfast and he was making eggs for her. “Initial here,” she said pointing to a green sticky note.

He smirked while pushing the eggs around the pan. “For what? You don’t have t’sell m’stuff for money, Bunny,” he winked. “I’ll buy you whatever y’want.”

She rolled her eyes. “It's a contract that says you're going to love me for forever,” she said with a shrug.

He looked at her curiously, snorted, and set the spatula aside for a moment to initial it without further questioning. “S'no writing on it, Rookie,” he said knowingly.

“You still signed it,” she shrugged again as she walked to the other room.

“Well, I can’t say no t'loving you,” he called.

His jaw fell open nearly unhinged. The possessive, Neanderthalic part of him made all the blood rush right to his groin. He thought he was turned on seeing her fully clothed with his name and number on her clothing. But this was her skin. The skin he kissed and licked while he took his time with her and made her come.

“Bunny,” he whispered and shook her gently. He was mindful not to brush any of the blankets or the comforter (or even her hair) on her sensitive, healing skin. “Bunny, wake up,” he whispered.

“Harry?” She mumbled sleepily her lashes trying their hardest to open.

He felt a little bad waking her, but she was so pretty and his name was on her skin. “Hi kitten,” he kissed her temple. “Wake up.”

“Sleep with me,” she mumbled, yawned, and stretched further into the mattress. “S’too early.”

“Kitten,” he whispered. “M’number is on your skin,” he was glad she was half asleep because she might not notice how tight his voice sounded (he sure could feel it). Was it hot in there? Were his eyes watering?

A sleepy, gorgeous, half-smile spread across her lips. “It’s a good number,” she slurred. Harry could hardly move his eyes from her face, but he was desperate to look at the tattoo like it might suddenly disappear.

He groaned. “Bunny.”

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“You’ve been planning this,” he answered. It was so permanent. Of course, Harry thought they were permanent. He would have a hard time letting her go and didn’t see how he could let that happen to begin with. So, there was no questioning it for him; they were, in fact, permanent. It was decided long before her tattoo.

But this? This was her saying it was permanent. That meant… everything to Harry.

She nodded, her smile a little firmer as she woke up more by the second. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“I love you so much,” he leaned in and kissed her deeply.

She moaned softly against his lips. “I love you,” she whispered.

“You tattooed me on your skin,” he was in disbelief.

She rolled over her and sat up so as not to put undue pressure on her shoulder blade. Her pretty naked upper half was on full display. His eyes dropped to her pretty, hard nipples before he went back to her eyes. “Just want to be very clear: I’m all yours.”

He moaned, grabbed either side of her neck and kissed her again. His tongue wasted no time sliding along her lips. “Open up,” he mumbled into her mouth.

“Let me brush my teeth,” she murmured through closed teeth and her occupied lips. “My breath smell—”

“Shh,” he hushed. “Open,” he ordered.

“At least let me get some water and some medicine. My skin’s a little irritated from sleeping weird—” Harry rushed back to the bathroom to get her what she wanted because as much as he wanted to kiss her and suck her tongue into his mouth, he’d rather die than let her be uncomfortable or in any kind of pain. “I could get—”

“Shh,” he hushed again. He handed her the water cup to sip while he tapped out a couple pills from the bottle. “You got a tattoo for me,” he repeated, still in disbelief.

“I like you on my skin,” she smiled knowingly. “I missed you. I did it the first night you were gone. Eleanor went with me,” she giggled. “And Marc. Michael was too squeamish.”

His chest felt a warmth like nothing he’d ever felt before. He didn’t know how to tell her he was having a heart attack from how much she loved him. He didn’t want it to stop. It was everything he ever wanted and more. He wanted her on his skin too. Immediately. Yesterday. Five years ago, would have been good. Back when he hadn’t even met her yet. Then it would have just been a promise that she was going to be his everything whether he knew it or not. “I have t’get a bunny or something, ASAP,” he warned cupping her face and sprinkling kisses over her cheeks, her forehead, her eyes. “God, I missed you,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have to get a tattoo for me,” she laughed. “I just thought it would be… fun. I couldn’t get it out of my head since the last time you went to a few away games. I just missed you so much. It felt better once it was there. Like it was easier to be apart from you because you weren’t really gone… that sounds silly but... I’ve never done anything like this before and—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, m’gonna tattoo you on my body. Should put your name on my forehead. Your face on my chest, right over my heart. Maybe your signature on my butt,” he smirked.

She giggled and shook her head. “Don’t be silly.”

“M’not sure you understand how perfect you are, Bunny,” he whispered. “M’honored.”

She blushed, her smile shy as she looked into his eyes while he gazed at her, that loving way that he knew made her insides melt because she told him as much. “I love you,” she whispered. “I missed you too.”

He groaned softly, pressed his mouth against hers and finally got his tongue to find hers so he could taste her the way he wanted to when she wouldn’t open her mouth. “Gotta be careful of your back, Bunny,” he warned and pressed his mouth in warm, wet kisses down the length of her throat. “But I want t’see it,” he gently moved away but pulled her so her body stayed close to his, guiding her along with him and kissing her again. While kissing her, he pulled her hair to the back of her head. He searched blindly down her arm with his free hand until he found her wrist and snagged the hair tie off her hand before wrapping it around the twist of hair. He pulled it tight and then turned her around, so her hands pressed against the wall. She had on an actual pair of underwear—not just the thin strip of fabric she claimed to be underwear—they looked like a pair of shorts and hugged her hips the way he wanted to. It wasn’t a mistake—Harry loved it when her pretty bum was on display with hardly anything covering her pretty skin but the idea of what she had hiding behind the green fabric wrapped around her pelvis and thighs was enough to drive him wild after four days of not seeing it.

Harry skimmed his knuckles down the length of her spine, his eyes unmoving from the black ink on her shoulder. “God, you’re beautiful,” his cock was straining against his boxers, and he could only imagine how good it was going to feel to sink into her.

He pressed her gently to the wall. He wished he could put paint all over her so he could leave an imprint of her there on the room for him to look at whenever he was lying in bed. She gasped slightly. Harry figured it was because the wall was cold against her hard nipples and he wanted to lay her down on her back and kiss and suck them until she came but it would have to wait until her back healed.

He kissed her skin again, brushing his lips along the curve of her neck and along her shoulder without the tattoo. He slid down kissing a path down her spine and then pulled her underwear down at the same time, so it pooled at her ankles. He teasingly bit into the fleshy part of her butt and kissed the same spot. “I missed you so much,” he moaned and kissed back up her skin and looked at the tattoo again. His initials literally etched into her skin made him throb. “You’re so hot, Bunny,” he mumbled to himself.

Her breathing was a little erratic. Harry’s lips felt like lava in the best way along her skin. Like little electrical currents zapping him. He turned her by her hips so her right shoulder was pressed against the wall. He knelt down, slipping his boxers down at the same time, and he shifted her left leg so he could press his head between her thighs. Without any fanfare, he wrapped his lips around her clit and sighed heavily—he couldn’t tease her. He missed her too much.

She gasped again while Harry slid his tongue down her slit. He marveled at how wet she was already, and Harry really thought he could die with his head between her leg. He groaned as he licked and slid his tongue into her where he hoped his cock would soon follow.

“Harry,” she whimpered. He moaned again. He was possessive, missed her like crazy, and couldn’t deny how good his name sounded when she was overcome with pleasure.

“S’good, Bunny. You’re doing so good,” he kissed the inside of her thigh. “Y’taste so good…” he licked into her like he was starving and she was the first thing he’d eaten in weeks. His tongue dipped and swirled. He tasted and teased her as much as he could without making her upset. It had been too long somehow in those five short days, and he wanted to make her come hard and fast.

“Harry, please,” she begged.

“Y’gonna come already, kitten?” He asked and continued licking the path he knew she loved because he knew how to make her feel good. Loved to make her feel good. He wanted to make her come a hundred times a day. It felt like magic to be the reason she felt good. She made him feel good all the time she deserved everything Harry could possibly manage to make her feel good. It didn’t matter that he’d only licked into her for a few minutes. If he wanted a hundred orgasms from her, each one needed to be quick. Harry knew what she liked and wanted to give her exactly that. If she came on his tongue in under ten minutes he would be thrilled.

“Harry,” her voice cracked. “I—”

“Come, Bunny, it’ll feel so good,” he attached his lips back to her clit and swirled his tongue around before slipping it back down. He repeated the motion once, twice, and on the third time a cry broke through her lips and Harry moaned as her weight shifted and he could feel her legs shaking around his head. He could feel the pulsing of her walls on his lips and tongue as he worked her through the orgasm. “So good, Bunny,” he moaned. He pulled away from her and settled her left leg back to let her stand. He kissed up her body all the way to her mouth and sighed deeply.

With flushed cheeks, she took a deep breath. Harry knew she was tired—she was probably already tired from work the previous night. He knew she missed him and probably ached to come like that for the last five days. “Your turn,” she offered a little breathlessly and started to kneel. Harry caught her by the elbows before she got even halfway to the ground. She frowned and opened her mouth to protest.

“Bunny, you put your lips anywhere near me, m’gonna come all over you and I really missed your pretty body and desperately need t’be inside you for at least a minute before it happens.”

She blushed and bit her lip. “Just seems a bit unfair.”

“I’ll let you suck my cock as much as y’want after I get to fuck you,” he promised. “Turn around,” he moved her by her hips and pressed them gently into the edge of the bed and coaxed her to bend at the hips. He kept his eyes on the tattoo. “God, you’re stunning,” he slid his hand down her spine again.

“I think I might pass out,” she whispered.

Harry chuckled quietly. He pressed his cock against her entrance and she whimpered. “Relax for me, baby,” he whispered and leaned forward to pepper kisses on her soft, pretty skin. She took a deep breath and Harry slipped into her easily. He moaned loudly grabbing at her hips for leverage and so that he didn’t come immediately.

“Oh,” she gasped turning her head against the mattress and she grabbed at the comforter squeezing it tight between her fingers. “Harry,” she croaked.

“Y’feel like heaven, Bunny,” he was straining to keep his composure because it was very possible that he would explode within one second of being inside her pretty pussy. Gently, slowly, Harry pulled back admiring the feeling of every part of her warm walls suctioning around him. Once all but the head of his cock was inside her, he pushed forward, pressed hard making her moan and she turned almost boneless against the mattress.

“Harry,” she cried.

“I know, kitten. I know,” he groaned. It felt so fucking good. He missed her more than he could describe and being this close to her was like a cure to an illness he didn’t know he had while he was gone. It felt so much better being home and being inside her.

“Harry, please.”

“Please what, Bunny?”

“You… you have to—” she was breathless and slightly incoherent. Harry’s breath was ragged and becoming more uneven with each thrust he was pressed into her. His fingertips were going to leave marks on her hips. His eyes couldn’t move from her tattoo, and it just made him feel harder and hotter. He wanted to fuck her for forever. It would feel so good to stay inside her for the rest of his life.

"Don't you want t'come again? Y'look so pretty when y'do bunny. Think 'bout how good it feels…”

“I already did. You have—”

God, she was pretty. She was way too sweet. Wanting Harry to come first. She was absolutely everything to him. “I will the minute y’come on m’cock, Bunny. I promise.” He was actually hoping that was the case at least. There was an increasingly high chance he couldn’t keep that promise by the second, because she felt so good. Too good. But he was going to try because he really did love the way she let go and surrendered to the pleasure. Especially because of him.

Making her come made him satisfied in a way that was indescribable. It was like scoring a goal when the game was on the line. He felt incredibly smug and good. “Harry!” She whimpered again and he pumped harder into her as her walls clamped around him. He groaned, leaning over her and pressing a kiss just to the side of her tattoo. He was so possessive he was surprised she wasn’t embarrassed by him every moment of the day.

“I love you, so much,” her voice was muffled into the blankets and sheets around her, and Harry was done; how could he not come when she said something like that?

He pulled away from her with a groan, and she somehow spun around and knelt in front of him just in time to take him between her lips and he could fill her mouth. She sighed dreamily as he did and Harry was jittery as he held her head gently cupping the sides of her face. His leg muscles twitched as he let her suck and slurp until it was almost too sensitive. The noises she made were otherworldly… it was difficult to fully relax. It felt like he was going to remain hard or get hard again in seconds.

But she knew him well and already seemed to know that was the case. She slowly backed off and dropped to her bum on the floor.

Harry crouched in front of her with a smile. He held her pretty, delicate face, pressed his lips to hers briefly and then kissed the middle of her forehead letting it linger a minute. She sighed deeply. Then he pressed his forehead to the same spot he kissed and gazed into her eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” she grinned.

“Missed you,” he tugged her up to stand and he was mindful of the sensitive skin tattooed on her back. He sat on the bed and pulled her gently on top of him keeping everything away from her ink.

“I missed you.”

“Don’t leave me alone like that. I had to sit with Niall.”

“Niall didn’t want to snuggle with you?”

He rolled his eyes. “They don’t snuggle the way you do, Bunny.”

She smiled softly and closed her eyes. “Can I suck your dick now?”

“God Rookie, I just got home,” he smiled. “Course y’can, kitten. Shoot me if I ever say no t’that.”

She smiled. “Can we sleep first?”

“Course, Bunny,” she nuzzled and tucked herself into his side the way he thought she would. “See, nothing like Niall.”

Harry heard her pretty soft giggle right before she fell asleep beside him.

--

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As the wind picked up and the night sky tinted purple, the small group of friends retreated from the beachfront to Harry’s rented complex. Lucien and Afia cuddled up close on the sofa as Harry situated the fire. The flames provided warmth and added to the cozy atmosphere, a sensual afrobeat song played quietly in the background. It was a pleasant night, the ocean rocked calmly creating waves against the shore. Harry brought out light blankets to keep everyone warm from the cooling temperature.

“Here y’go,” he mumbled as he placed a blanket over the birthday girls’ lap and handed the extra blanket to Lucien. Harry sat next to the birthday girl, so close that their thighs nearly touched. He kept one side of his thigh covered by the blanket. His arm wrapped around the back of the sofa, his tiger tattoo and others still noticeably visible on his left as his shorts rode up. As Lucien and Afia chatted quietly, Harry was well aware of the birthday girls’ wandering brown eyes, tracing over the dark ink that was engraved into his tanned skin.

“Wh—,” she started quietly towards Harry but Lucien cut her off.

“Oh! We need to sing a proper happy birthday for the birthday girl,” Lucien half yelled, demanding a serenade as if it was his own birthday. “Come on, Harry. You can’t go shy on us now,” he teased cheekily, standing from his spot and wrapping his arm around Harry’s similar frame. “I’ll go bring the cake out if you start singing,” he added with a whisper before venturing through the sliding door.

Harry’s green eyes softened as he coughed into his hand, noticing how her face turned a bit redder when his eye fell to her.

“Oh, you really don’t —,” she started, outstretched her hand in protest.

“Come on, I promised and I keep my promises,” Harry quickly reassured her. Harry stood before her, his frame towering over hers. “It’s no big deal, really. I’d love to sing for you,” Harry cleared his throat, suddenly a little nervous as the girls shrieked with excitement as he started to sing the classic “Happy Birthday” song in a mid - range tone.

Harry kept his eyes on the birthday girl, only shifting when Lucien came through the corridor with the medium sized, heart shaped cake Harry picked up hours ago — fully lit with candles and decorated with pink icing.

“Happy birthday to you,” they all sang, beaming towards her. “Happy birthday to you, love.” Harry finished earnestly followed by a loud cheer.

“Hip hip… Hooray!” Lucien yelled, “go on, let’s see how many boyfriends you have.” Harry’s eyes darted toward him, giving him a warning to rein in with his cheekiness as the pretty, dark skinned girl blew the candles out with her breath.

“Oh, look at that!” Lucien chuckled, “one boyfriend for you,” he joshed when one candle faltered and stayed lit against her breath. Harry noticed the curve of her lips, covered in gloss and perfectly plump as her face settled into a shy smile. He didn’t realize he was staring until Lucien called him by his name.

“Harry, explain the boyfriend thing. The girls are confused,” he chuckled.

“Oh, uhm.” Harry cleared his throat, “Basically in Britain, we joke that if you don’t blow out all your candles that’s how many boyfriends or girlfriends you’ll have that year,” he explained with his hands, his voice softer now. “I — I don’t know, it’s a dumb thing,” Harry added, shaking his head in disbelief that Lucien had mentioned it clearly to tease them both.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Lucien asked, out loud causing Harry eyes to go wide in embarrassment. Harry suddenly became very aware of not only their age difference but possibly the lack of experience she could have. If she was experienced or not — that didn’t bother him. A tinge of curiosity and protection rose in his chest as he wondered secretly though.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Harry defended immediately.

“Oh,” she chuckled nervously, her eyes shifting to her best friend then back to Harry. “I’ve dated before,” she explained slowly.

“That kwasea (foolish) man doesn’t count, babe.” Afia chimed in, kissing her teeth in disapproval.“He was just a waste of time, always playing games with her. She needs a real man, someone mature.” Her friend explained, a small smirk on her lips as she nodded towards Harry.

“Proper wasteman, was he?” Lucien questioned, bringing his drink to his lips. “Nothing like our Harry, here. He’d be a good match for you,” Lucien replied eagerly, causing Harry to curse out. “Harry’s very thoughtful. He rang me on the phone while picking out decorations for you,” he joked.

“Jesus Christ, don’t… embarrass me,” he hissed, “I was just trying to be a good host.” He chuckled but Lucien interrupted again.

“Is that why you went searching all throughout the city for all those prezzies?” Lucien teased again. “Go on, now. You can admit you wanted it smashing for her.”

“Okay, okay,” Harry grinned like he was caught, his hands suspended in the air in defeat. “I wanted it really nice for you,” Harry admitted. He selfishly wanted to make a good impression on her, not only because it mattered to him but also because she deserved nice things.

“I’m having a lovely time, Harry… Really, thank you. It’s been the best birthday,” her hand fell to thigh that was shrouded by the blanket. He wondered if she could feel his skin burn from her touch alone. Harry quickly became acutely aware of his own desires for her touch, his mind and body fighting the urge to get her alone.

“Awww,” Afia whispered quietly to Lucien as the private moment came and passed quickly.

“I’m really glad you’re having a good time. Guess we can thank Lucien for that,” Harry told the group with a dimpled smile.

“Aw, don’t give me all the credit popstar, if you weren’t there it would’ve flopped.” Lucien added, “it’s the dimples and the hair that worked to our benefit, mate.” He complimented as the girls laughed. Harry could feel pretty eyes run over his side profile as he smirked at the compliment.

Lucien clapped his hands. “‘Enough sentimental talk, who wants cake?” He asked cheerfully, grabbing the knife before cutting into it.

The small group laughed and joked as they ate the chocolate flavored cake, Lucien sharing embarrassing stories of his Ghanaian summer holiday. Harry sat quietly, letting the storyteller take the cake, happy to have the attention directed off of him for a few moments.

With their bellies full of sugar and cheeks hurting from laughing so much — Harry noticed the birthday girls’ small yawn as Lucien was on his fourth storytime.

“Tired?” He questioned, “I can show you to your room,” he offered, extending his palm up for her to take.

“Tucking in for the night?” Lucien asked as they stood.

“Jus’ gonna show her to her room, you got the one downstairs on the right. Afia, are you…” Harry trailed off.

“Oh, I’ll room with him.” She cuddled into Lucian more, her legs over his lap. “Stay safe girl, don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

“You too, babe. Lucien — I trust you can handle her.”

“Oh, of course. No need to worry here, she’s in safe hands, aren’t ya lass?” He smirked as Harry pulled her away, guiding her back inside.

“Those two can’t seem to keep their hands off each other,” Harry observed.

“Lucien is in for the ride of his life,” she laughed and followed Harry up the stairs.

“It’s just through here, my room is next to yours too.” Harry explained as he climbed, his hand resting on the small of her back. “There’s the loo,” he pointed and continued to lead her. “And this is all yours,” Harry opened the door to a spacious room filled with soft lighting, a glass chandelier hanging over the bed and fresh linen sheets. “Hope this is okay.”

“This will be perfect, Harry. Thank you,” he watched from the doorframe as she stepped inside. He scratched at the back of his neck, watching as her eyes glanced around the room.

“Oh, and your gifts are here…” He stepped into the room, “jus’ small things,” Harry watched her face change into a big smile.

“You really didn’t have too, oh my gosh. This is so sweet,” her fingers brushed carefully over the pink sparkly wrapping paper, decorated with a white bow. “This is too much, Harry.”

He frowned as his head jerked in disagreement. Harry knew that he could do so much more. He wanted to do so much more. Harry could easily spoil her, he’d done it in the past with other partners but they often viewed his love as transactional. He’d get the emotional support and care, bask in the physical benefits and leave before he could get too attached himself. His career didn’t really allow for a long term relationship, at least he didn’t really put the time and effort needed for one. He’d date someone for a few months, get caught up in work and without the quality time — the relationship would end. His love life was often too complicated but Harry also knew fame wasn’t the only thing that tainted his relationships.

“Not at all,” he smiled, “open them, see if I guessed right or if I’m terribly off the mark for someone I just met.” He sat on the edge of the bed, patting the cream colored duvet.

“Oh, I’ll love them either way. I could never hate a gift someone gave me.” Harry felt the bed dip slightly as she sat close to him with the first gift in hand. As she tore off the wrapping paper, a soft smile appeared on her face. “Aw, Harry. This is too sweet, the pattern is beautiful…” she inspected the kente scarf, the pretty blues mixed the orange and red. “I don’t think I have one this color or pattern so, thank you.” She carefulled tucked the scarf away, finding a few strings of different color beads. The first set — white, gold, clear and brown beads wrapped around a thin white string.

“I got you a more neutral color and some colorful ones because I thought they would look great on your skin tone,” Harry explained carefully. “The lady at the shop, she was so kind… she explained that they are used to track your weight?”

“Okay, go on. You really know your stuff,” she beamed, leaning into him. “Thank you, these are absolutely gorgeous. I’ll have to put them on,” she said with a small grin. “This is so thoughtful, Harry.”

“Jus’ two more,” Harry grinned, grabbing the last two boxes off the table. “Open this first,” he suggested.

He watched as she undid the pink paper, slowly revealing luxurious, homemade shea butter. “This one is with lavender, I hope it’s okay.”

“I love lavender,” she dripped two fingers inside the container, rubbing the smooth consistency on the back of her hand. “Oh my gosh, this smells amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this shop,” she said, looking at the brand tag on the front of the packaging.

“Let me smell,” Harry half asked, his hand gently taking her wrist into his grasp to smell the scent from her skin. “Mm,” he moaned, “smells great on you,” he complimented before letting her hand go.

“Thank you,” she replied before wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. The embrace was sudden and surprised him. “Nobody has ever really been this kind to me,” she explained, “we’ve only met and you’ve done so much for me already,” she thanked him.

“It’s nothing really, I’d like to do more if I’m being honest.”

“This is… more than enough, Harry.”

“Just one more gift then I’ll let you rest,” he placed the small box on her lap. It lacked weight but jingled slightly when she picked it up. Her eyes closed gently as she shook it. “Just open it, promise it looks better than it sounds,” Harry smirked, teasing cheekily.

He watched as her pretty nails ripped open the paper, revealing a small closed box. Her thumb and pointer finger went to open the cover. Inside, a small diamond pendant, square cut with a gold, cable link chain supporting it. A soft gasp left her lips as her brown eyes widened.

“Harry…” she started, “this is too much,” she whispered. Her full lips pouted, looking so irresistibly kissable.

“Never too much,” Harry whispered, his lips rolled into a thin line as he watched her take in the small piece of jewelry. “Do you like it?” He asked, cautiously as he couldn’t read her face well.

“I’m… I’m speechless,” she let out a breathless laugh, “I love it, it’s gorgeous Harry but I — I don’t deserve this, we just met and I don’t… I don’t want to take advantage of your… your wealth and fame,” she rushed out, closing the box.

“No, no. Not at all, love. “ Harry frowned, “please, it’s yours and I really wanted you to have it for your birthday. I saw it and instantly knew it would suit you,” Harry explained. “It’s small, please, take it.”

He observed as she went back and forth in her mind, opening the jewelry box once more as her eyes set on the diamond then to Harry’s green eyes. Before she had a chance to interject, Harry spoke again.

“Let me put it on you, see how you feel then.” Harry carefully took the box from her hands, removing the delicate piece of jewelry from its holder and undoing the clasp. Harry nodded towards the mirror, silently directing her to stand. His tall frame stood at her back, holding the clasps tightly against his rough fingertips. “Move your braids f’me?” He asked, waiting until her bare neck was exposed. Harry thought about brushing his lips against her soft skin but stopped himself. He was careful as he wrapped the chain around her neck, fumbling with the clasp more than once.

“Sorry,” he whispered sheepishly, “you make me a bit nervous,” he admitted just as the clasp secured together. He shuffled his feet back, glancing at her in the mirror. “Suits you,” he said simply, a genuine smile on his face. “Really suits you,” he added.

Her slender finger reach up to touch the chain, her thumb and index finger touching over the diamond delicately. “Thank you,” she turned quickly, embracing him once again. Harry chuckled, a small breath of air escaping his lungs from the sudden contact. His muscular frame felt warm and squishy as he wrapped around her, melting by her scent and touch alone. With one hand on the small of her back and the other caressing her braids, Harry held her tightly.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered into her hair, pressing a soft kiss to her braids before he could stop himself. When she peered back, everything happened so fast. He felt her press up against him, on the tips of her toes and softly kiss his lips. Harry’s eyes immediately fluttered shut at the innocent kiss, his palm going to her cheek before his lips moved against hers. His mouth opened, wet and warm against her tongue as she attempted to deepen the kiss. Harry flinched at the sudden intrusion, pulling back.

“We don’t have to—,” he started, needing to be clear that he didn’t expect anything in return from her.

“I want to, please.” Her voice came out needy, eyes hooded as she gazed up at him. “I like you, Harry.”

“I like you, too.” Harry whispered back, his fingers spread across the side of her face. “I just don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he explained, keeping in mind the previous conversation about past partners and the age difference between them.

“I’m comfortable with a lot,” her eyes dropped to his mouth, looking hungry and seductive. Harry could feel the heat rise between them and every bone inside him was vibrating with desire.

“Yeah?” He questioned, his voice smooth and confident. His fingers that laced around her spine, digged a little deeper, pressing into her bare skin. “What are y’comfortable with?”

“I could… show you?” Her voice trailed off, soft and velvety. With her short frame pressed against his, gently she led him back against the bed. Harry took a seat on the edge of the duvet, his muscles taunting, waiting for her next move. Harry’s green eyes ran over her body as she stood between his legs. “Can I… sit?”

“Please,” Harry said causally, without any rejection. Both of his hands leaned back against the duvet, supporting their weight. His legs spread, his tiger tattoo on full display thanks to the short hem of his shorts. Harry’s eyes settled over the contrast of her gorgeous, deep skin tone against his tan. Her thighs rested against his lap, sitting perfectly snug. The position was much more vulnerable and closer than they had ever been. He watched as her hands ran down the front of his chest to his abdomen, settling there. “Comfortable?” Harry mumbled out.

“Almost,” he felt her adjust, the space between them shrunk as she moved forward. Harry’s back straightened, closing the distance between them as his hand fell to her naked hip. He felt her weight shift ever so gently, settling over him like a blanket. “There.”

“You smell s’good,” Harry complimented. He breathed deeply against her skin, smelling the rich warmth of the cocoa butter she put on after their ocean adventure.

“You do too,” she flirted back, Harry’s lips danced dangerously close to hers. Playing a small game of cat and mouse, their lips would almost touch then she’d pull back an inch.

“I really want to kiss you,” Harry admitted, drunk from her scent, touch and eyes alone.

“Then kiss me,” she told him. He obliged instantly, the kiss started gently, tasting her lips again. When he opened his mouth, his hot tongue collided with her own. The feeling alone set a warmth that went straight to his cock, he reluctantly kept his hips still as they continued to kiss. His hand tightened against her waist, almost pulling her more into him. His bulge in his shorts grew harder against the seam as she began to rock her hips, moaning into his mouth at the sudden contact. As she began to set a steady rhythm, Harry broke the kiss reluctantly — muttering out and breathing heavily.

“Fuck, is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes, please. You feel really good,” she panted.

“You feel so good, baby.” He smirked, “sit so pretty on my cock,” he hummed.

Harry attached his lips to the curve of her neck. He licked the skin there before nipping it with his two front teeth. He felt her shutter against him, a small falter in her movement as he continued to mark her body as if were his.

“Lemme see you, baby” Harry groaned.

The upper half of his body, laid back on his elbow. Harry watched her from below as she grinded her hips on his now - obvious hardened cock. A dimpled grin spread to his face as he forced on the movements of her hips, confident and overwhelming. His eyes faltered on the diamond necklace, shining in the low light.

“Jus’ like that, pretty girl. Take it, take what’s yours.”

Her hands spread against his abdomen, his shirt riding up as her palms pressed into his skin for support. A soft moan escaped her lips as her movements grew more frantic, encouraged by his words and pleasure that coarse through them both.

“Feels so good, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby? Feel good for you?” He taunted.

She eagerly nodded her head, rotating her hips faster and harder against him. His head fell back against the duvet, his vision caught a blurry glimpse of the ceiling as she rode him fully clothed. “Oh, Harry.”

His head snapped to her, a smirk across his face as he watched her lose herself against him. “You gonna cum, baby?” He hummed out, sitting up straight. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her securely against him. He moved his hips against her, feeling the warmth of her body pressed into his.

“Oh shit,” he cursed, “gonna make me cum in my pants.” He half chuckled in realization as she grinded harder against him. The only sounds on the room were their ruffled movement, quiet moans and panting voices.

“Fuck me, oh fuck me, Harry.” She begged, right on the edge of her orgasm.

He almost gave in, right then and there.

Fuck.

“Oh darling,” he groaned out, his lips pressed up against her skin. “I will, baby I will,” he promised. “J—just this for now,” he whispered, “feels so good, you feel so good.” He purred in her ear, his voice cracking as he felt his orgasm near.

“I’m gonna cum,” Harry heard her say before attacking her lips in a very rough manner, he kissed her hard, swallowing her loud mouth as she released. Harry held her tightly, his arm wrapped around her waist as he followed after her. The groan that erupted from his mouth surprised him at first.

“Oh, fuck.” He panted, shirt disheveled on his body as a wet strain began to seep through his short material, noticeable and evident.

“Sorry,” he heard her say, loosening her grasp around him as she moved onto the bed.

“No, no, no,” Harry frowned, “don’t be sorry. ‘M not sorry one bit,” he reassured her, rubbing the skin on her bare arm softly. “Didn’t even like these shorts anyways,” he joked and chuckled softly to ease the tension.

He watched as she adjusted her shirt from around her hips, clearing her throat. “Thank you for… that.” She whispered, finally letting her eyes fall as Harry awkwardly stood.

“No, thank you… I mean, fuck. That was… that was everything,” Harry pulled his shirt off his back, covering the obvious cum stain with the fabric.

“Uh, I’m going to clean up and change. D-Do you want to… ,” he trailed off, wondering how he should ask. “Do you wanna sleep in my bed?” He offered.

“Oh,” she started, eyes wide. “Is… would that be okay?”

A smile broke from his face, “of course, I would like y’there, if you wanted.” He fronted, “it’s just down the hall, I can give you a bit and you can come whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay, I’ll come.”

“Okay,” he nodded, reluctantly walking away from her. As he turned into the dimly lit corridor, he let out a big sigh of relief. “Don’t mess this up,” he whispered to himself.

After flicking the light on, he cleaned himself up. He changed into a clean pair of boxer briefs, washed his hands and climbed into bed. A few seconds later, he heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” Harry said.

A pleasant smile spread across his face as she saw his birthday girl standing in the doorway with a silk nightgown that hung loosely around her frame. Her braids were wrapped up in a colorful, silk scarf that matched the gown.

“Come here,” he patted on the mattress beside him. He eagerly watched as she closed the door, walked over to the bed and climbed in. “You’re so pretty,” his green eyes traced her bare face, ready for bed appearance. His arms opened, a small invitation.

“Thank you,” her face fell in a small amount of shyness that reentered the room. She snuggled against his chest, letting her arm fall around his naked abdomen. Harry’s lips pressed softly against the curve of her forehead, lingering on her skin.

After a long quiet moment, he felt the weight of her body sink against his hold. His arm was protectively wrapped around her waist, his fingertips played with the soft fabric of her gown. He could tell that she was asleep — her breathing evened out, her eyes closed against his shoulder as she laid curled into his chest.

“I wanted to do more,” he whispered. “I jus’… I have a habit of rushing into things like this and I… I don’t want to rush with you,” he mumbled against her skin. “Don’t want t’fuck this up,” he added. He let out a tired sigh, letting the sleep begin to settle over his own body. Right before he fell into a deep sleep, he whispered once more to her.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

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• A short story.

• First chapter coming June 20th.

• Told in Dual POV between both Harry and Frankie.

• Will have medical lingo throughout, but please remember, this is a work of fiction, so some things may be exaggerated to fit the plot.

• This story will touch on some triggering things: an incident resulting in injury, cheating (not between our main characters) and traumatic memories of said incident.

• Please see below for faceclaims of the main characters of the story.

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• Playlist

• One

This is (Y/N) and Joey’s fourth date and she couldn’t be any more pleased with him.

He’s sweet and thoughtful and most of all, he knows how to communicate. That’s a big one. He tells her good morning and goodnight, he tells her when he’s busy and might not be able to get to his phone. He lets her know that this is going well and that he really likes her. He might just be on his way to securing his spot as her boyfriend if he keeps it up.

They met on a dating app, which is probably the easiest way to meet people nowadays, (Y/N) thinks. Most matches that come through are make or break. She can usually tell right away what type of person swiped on her profile and so sure, she’s had a lot of misses and a few guys ghost her but that’s what comes with using the apps. And to think she almost didn’t match with Joey. She almost deleted the app altogether, vowing that she was just going to go out and meet people the old-fashioned way and then the notification came through. He was a charmer right away, asking about her cat that she posted and answering all the questions on her profile just the way she wanted.

He was very kind and very, very nice on the eyes. So, now four dates in, (Y/N) could really see this going somewhere. She almost couldn’t believe she actually made a decent match on the app she was using. She didn’t think guys like Joey even existed anymore.

“So, it’s been a long week. Better now that I get to see you though.” He smiled, reaching his hand over the table to grab hers.

See what she means? It’s like he has some kind of playbook that tells him exactly what she wants him to say at all times. He’s perfect.

“I feel the same. Mine was definitely interesting.” Her eyes rolled the tiniest bit but she didn’t elaborate. Joey would never understand even if she tried to describe it to him. The only way he’d come close to believing her was seeing it with his own eyes and even then, he’d probably never want to see her again.

There was no reason to let the two meet in the first place, so she tried to keep that part of her life very, very, very separated from this one with Joey.

But her phone kept on ringing.

In her defense, she didn’t tell him she was going anywhere tonight, and most times when her phone rings, she answers it. Now that she’s not, she’s sure that he has a pretty good idea about what she’s doing tonight. And plus, he’s probably already tried her apartment.

“Do you need to get that? It sounds important.” He glanced toward her bag at the edge of the table. You could hear it buzzing away even inside the bag and on silent. It’s been going for about thirty minutes. It’ll stop because she didn’t answer and then start right back up again. She would turn off her phone completely but she knew he’d throw a fit.

“No, no. It’s not important. I don’t even know who it is.” It stopped buzzing. And started again. “Probably a debt collector or something. You know, they just keep calling and they don’t even really want anything when you ask.” She laughed it off, snatching her bag off the table and hooking it around her chair instead.

“Sorry about that. I don’t want anything to interrupt us right here so—” She was cut off by the Find My sound playing on her phone, in her bag, probably disrupting the entire restaurant. It was ear-piercing and she can’t even believe he would ever go that far. And she didn’t know that her phone was on his Find My and that just boils her blood because that also means he has her location. “Give me one second.” Trying to smile politely at Joey, she grabbed her purse up and walked towards the back of the restaurant where the restrooms are. There was a long and vacant hallway connected to that going back to the kitchen, so it was absolutely the best place to answer this phone call.

“What could you possibly want?” She asked immediately upon clicking the answer button.

“I don’t appreciate being ignored all day. You know that very well, (Y/N).” He spoke in the same tone he always does. Cold and no emotions seeping through at all. Just straightforward, no room for any type of misinterpretation.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I do have a life outside of whatever you have planned for me, you know that very well, don’t you?” They’ve had this conversation many times and she’s not sure what he doesn’t understand about it yet.

“You need to come home now. Wherever you are, doesn’t matter. Home. Now.”

It was laughable to have him demand her to do anything. Even if he sounded scary and a small part of her internally trembled, she didn’t like to come running. She liked to push him as far as he’d let her.

“We haven’t even made it through the main course yet. And I’m enjoying myself so you’re going to have to wait.” She leaned back against the wall behind her, listening to him huff through the phone.

“(Y/N). It would be in your best interest to leave that restaurant now. Unless you’d like me to come get you myself.”

“I’m almost done. Another hour at most, I promise.” Her tone switched up, hoping that he would understand a little bit that she’s smack dab in the middle of dinner with a guy she really likes. He doesn’t care about the guy part, it probably only infuriates him, honestly. But she was hoping he’d cut her some slack.

“I don’t care. Be home in fifteen minutes or I’m going to come find you. And you don’t want that.” The line cut and she shoved her phone back in her bag and stomped back to her table with Joey, wondering what kind of excuse she’d have to make up this time.

He must have been able to tell by the look on her face that the phone call was bad news.

“Do you have to go? Is everything alright?” He was always empathetic too. He was the perfect guy and so understanding. Hopefully this would all be over soon and she could really focus on Joey instead of whatever this is.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry. Something just…came up. I hate to leave like this. Here’s the cash for mine.” She sat down only to open her purse and get to her wallet but he stopped her right away.

“Don’t worry about it. No need to apologize. I’ve got the bill. You just get to wherever you need to be. Text me when you can and we can set something up for another time.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It was nice having dinner with you again.”

A gem, truly. And now she has to go deal with some other man that acts the opposite. Just because he dares to call whatever this is fate and divine intervention and something that they can’t control.

When she got home, she didn’t even have to unlock the door. Harry flung the door open from the inside and dragged her in by the front of her dress.

“Excuse me! You don’t have to grab me like that! I was on my way in, you fucking psycho.” She batted his hand away and watched the disapproval melt onto his face as he looked her over.

“That skirt is atrocious. I’m not sure why you bothered to wear it in public.”

(Y/N) knows better than to let him bait her into an argument, so she just takes a deep breath and turns on her heel. She knows he only wants her to lay down in bed and that’s really it. But he’s so annoying about it.

“(Y/N).”

“What?” He was standing in her doorway when she turned around.

“I’ve been waiting too long for you. The sooner you lay down, the better for us both. Please.”

She hadn’t noticed when she walked in because she was so angry that he disrupted her. He looks like he always does when he comes to her in the middle of the month. When the new moon hides away and he’s feeling extra vulnerable. He’s supposed to be with his mate until the full moon, which is apparently very hard on him too, but he never really looks worse than he does now.

It wasn’t ideal. It was never going to be. Their dynamic and how strange it is.

(Y/N) met Harry on a trail in the woods near her house. She just needed a breather and might have stepped off the allotted path for just a second, to see what else was out there, beyond the trail. It was a bad idea and she did know she shouldn’t be doing things like that alone. But it really didn’t take Harry long to sniff her out and then look at her like he was absolutely appalled by what he’d stumbled upon.

From what he tells her, he caught a scent two towns over and followed it to the source. The source being her. It was a scent reserved for mates. So as Harry was rushing to find his mate, he never for a second thought she’d be human. And apparently that was a huge deal in his world. It was rare enough that he had to do his own “research” to figure out how to go about it.

(Y/N) honestly didn’t give two fucks when he told her that in the beginning because she thought he was crazy. He spoke about moon phases and how they only had six moons left to mark her as his mate or fate would do as fate does and force the two of them together. And forcing a mate didn’t seem like something he wanted to do. But she was human and it didn’t seem like he liked the idea too much.

At first, she didn’t even believe a word he was saying. Talking about wolves and mates and his pack that he was apparently the leader of. But it didn’t take long for it to start making sense.

Her body felt…different. There was a slight pull to be around him. It was strange. She adored his smell which was even more strange. So much so that she found herself nuzzling her nose into his chest just to breathe him in. She could feel how far away he was. If he was ever too far, pain. Somewhere deep inside of her that felt like she was crumbling from the inside out. It wasn’t something she could really put into words, but as soon as their eyes locked in the woods, it was over for them both. Whether they wanted it to be or not.

This is their last full moon to mark (Y/N) before all their feelings amplify and it all turns into a huge mess. And Harry has been on edge, she can tell.

He doesn’t want to mark her because he doesn’t know what will happen to her. That was reserved for wolves only and as far as she knows, she’s not a wolf and never has been. So they’re unsure how the whole process will go with her being human.

And he’s not sure how she’s supposed to meet his pack. Bringing a human on their territory wasn’t normally advised . At least that’s what he says.

She did some research of her own but most of it seemed out of fairy tales. She asked if he had an aversion to silver and he was on his way to laughing at her by the time the conversation was over with. She asked about vampires because to her the two go hand in hand and he just told her she watched too many movies. None of it made sense. What was real and what wasn’t. She couldn’t be sure anymore after meeting him. And he wasn’t a fan of straight answers so that really made it difficult.

But he tries to explain it to her in a way that doesn’t sound so awful, but all of it does. He sinks his teeth into her neck and they both run away and live out their days on his land somewhere in the mountains. It was inevitable, according to him. So the only thing they’re doing is buying themselves time to get her adjusted to the thought of it. There is no choice in the matter.

The new moon had Harry being a little gentler. He’d ramp back up as the full moon approached but right now, he patiently waits for her to change her clothes and then tucks her into bed just the way she likes.

“Are you comfortable?”

“I guess.” She shrugged, forcing her eyes to look at the ceiling so she didn’t have to watch him pull his shirt over his head and show off his insanely toned upper body. It almost hurt to look at.

He crawled in beside her, onto top of the blankets because he ran really warm, and stuffed his nose into the side of her neck.

“You smell like him.” He pulled back, grimacing.

“I’d really smell like him if you gave me more than five minutes with him.” She rolled her eyes, turning her head away from him.

(Y/N) wanted to live out the rest of her free days as normally as possible. She wanted to go on dates and kiss cute guys and get one last fuck in, but Harry prevented all of that. She couldn’t even stand the idea of Joey leaning in to kiss her much less actually kissing him. It was against everything she was thinking about. She thought she would want to kiss him, he’s cute and sweet. But her body knows something that she hasn’t quite accepted yet.

She wonders why Joey goes on dates with her if she won’t let him get close enough to touch her. But he does. He probably thinks she’s just really shy. And that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“It is not written so it won’t be.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” She felt his nose nudge further into the side of her neck.

“This is our last moon.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’ll be different this time.”

“Apparently.”

“(Y/N).” He pulled back, forcing her to turn to him. “It’s important that we’re together that night. Things will happen fast.”

“What things?”

“Your mark.” His finger brushed over her neck where he said all the other mates have theirs. She shivered every time he touched her. “Both of us will want to be together. It’s best that we’re here.”

“Yeah. Sure. Thanks for the bedtime story.” She pulled the blankets up over her shoulder and turned to her side. He followed, pressing right against her and nudging his nose right back against her throat. Since they weren’t mated, the only thing that stopped the ache was closeness and each other’s scent. It was annoying, as were many things about Harry, but she couldn’t lie and say his presence didn’t feel like a key in a lock or a puzzle piece snapping into place. Like he was something she’d been missing and she finally found it. She didn’t dare mention that to him though.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

****

As it turns out, Harry can be very moody.

(Y/N) thinks it’s mostly the upcoming full moon but she’s not sure what else. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s giggling and awing at her phone next to him because Joey is sending her all these cute things.

It probably is that. He peeked over her shoulder once and grumbled something under his breath that she didn’t catch.

They weren’t doing much today, but most of her plans include Harry. He doesn’t say much but he likes to be near her. So, when they watch tv, he’s pawing at her, pulling her under his arm, and breathing her in.

That was weird, at first. Having him grab her and snuggle her but look so frustrated about it at the same time. It threw her off. But she knows that he’s really only frustrated with the fact that his mate is human. And that she isn’t exactly returning his attention like another wolf would.

And he absolutely hates Joey. Which is to be expected. He’s in the way, technically. (Y/N) keeps holding onto him when she knows it’s not going to last much longer. She doesn’t know why she does, but she does. It will only end up hurting Joey in the long run but there’s just something that keeps her hanging onto him.

“Why do you keep making those noises?” His arm came over her shoulder and across her chest to grab onto her waist and pull her back against his chest. She sat up to reply back to Joey because she could feel how broody Harry was getting. But he pulled her right back.

“What noises?” She was barely paying attention when she leaned her head back against his shoulder, immediately being enveloped by his warmth. Her bed never got cold anymore. It was insane how much heat he put off, but it definitely wasn’t something she didn’t like.

“Laughing like that.”

“Like what?” She glanced over at him, seeing his brow furrowed and his face set like he wasn’t amused. He never seemed to be amused about anything actually. Ever.

“Like that. I don’t know, but it’s making my ears ring.”

(Y/N) could tell he was complaining just to complain. He didn’t like that she was texting Joey, so he had to make it into something it wasn’t. She doesn’t tell him he’s acting insane though. Because she tried that and he only got more insane. It wasn’t worth it to disrupt their quiet morning.

“Okay, well, I’ll stop then.” It was best to compromise with him because he'd get his way anyway. “I can’t believe she just sits with you like that.” She nodded towards Mittens who was sitting on the other side of him, nudging against his leg, demanding he scratch at her head. And he always did.

(Y/N) was once again dumbfounded. Because Harry is essentially a dog and as far she knew cats and dogs did not do well together. Mittens had never even been around a dog long enough to adjust to one so she was sure that she’d want nothing to do with Harry. And since she’s an animal, (Y/N) also assumed that she was well aware that Harry was nothing close to a normal person. But the opposite happened just like it always seemed to.

She was always beside him whenever they were on the couch. She followed him through the apartment. Rubbed all over him when she first allowed him over. He liked cats, he told her when he noticed the expression on her face. And cats liked him. So (Y/N) gave up on being surprised by anything. Stranger things have happened and do happen quite constantly now.

“She doesn’t mind me, I guess.” He gave in to her incessant nudging and scratched her head which in turn caused her to purr like he was the best thing that ever happened to her when (Y/N) pet her all the time. A totally normal amount but she acted like she was starved for attention.

“That makes one of us.” She commented with an eye roll that made him tug on the ends of her hair gently.

“That will change.” He tugged a pinch harder and pulled her back against him again while keeping Mittens happy with pets on the other side of him.

“Joey invited me out next weekend.” She felt him tense behind her and his hand clench around her tee shirt.

“Next weekend isn’t a good weekend. You know very well why.”

“But he wants to take me to the fair. You know they only have it up for a few weeks and this is the last weekend. I’ve never been before.” Her voice got a little whiny and she dropped her phone to turn and look at him. “Please.”

“That’s the full moon, (Y/N). I don’t think you’re understanding just how serious it is.” He kept his tone and expression stern. Yeah, she doesn’t know how serious it is because she hasn’t been preparing since birth for this moment like he has. He hasn’t told her much, just that he’ll have to leave a mark most likely. And while that sounded the least appealing of it all, a tiny part of her felt her skin buzzing whenever he even hinted at marking her.

“I’ll come home early. Before the moon rises. Please?” Her hands came together like she was begging him. It wasn’t like he was that much in control of what she does, she would probably end up going even if he did forbid her. But she wanted to at least ask so he felt like he was in charge. And because he’d track her down and drag her home himself.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. You should be saying your goodbyes to him, not making more plans.”

True, but this would be the last, last time that they’d see each other and she wanted to leave on a good note. But he was right. It would be best to cut ties now and not give him more false hope. (Y/N) just wanted one more night before things changed forever.

“Harry.” Another pout. He looked away from her, his word final, but she scurried into his lap, latching onto him around the shoulders and squeezing. “It’s the last time, please. You know this won’t happen again, so you should just let me.”

“I should just let you? You’re not listening (Y/N).” He huffed like he was frustrated but then grabbed her up under the thighs to drag her closer.

“I want to go. I’m asking.” This time she toughened up her tone. Because if he didn’t say yes, she’d go anyway and she wanted that to be perfectly clear. It didn’t matter what he said because she would be seeing Joey that night, no matter what phase the moon is in.

“You’re impossible.” His eyes rolled and that’s how she knew she’s nearly got her way. “My one condition is I have to come. I can’t be away from you at a time like that and you know it.”

She scowled at him, dropping her head back on her shoulders.

“But Harry!”

“It’s the only way. You’d probably be sick to your stomach if you’re too far away at moonrise and come home anyway. So it’s either I come or your night gets cut short.”

She knew that he was right. It’s happened similarly before. She refused to let him in her bed and she literally felt ill when he was sleeping on the floor beside her bed instead of right next to her.

It came on like a fever. She got chills and felt nauseous. And she knew it wouldn’t go away until he was next to her but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. It didn’t take long for her to be curled up on the floor right beside him. He told her off in the morning and ever since then he’s been in her bed.

“Fine. I guess. We’ll make it work.” She shrugged, not sure how she was going to explain their third wheel to Joey yet. He probably wouldn’t be ecstatic about it. “Thanks for letting me go. You have no idea how happy I am.” Her hands came up to hold his face. It was times like this that she felt outside of her body. Whenever she touched him by her own free will, it was always more intimate than she planned it to be.

Her smile dropped when she met his eyes. It was like they always set her into a trance. They were so green and it was hard to look away once you started. Whenever this happened, the only thing that cycled through her mind was pushing their mouths together. She knows it’s because they’re mates that she feels so inclined to be close to him but it’s moments like this that it really affects her. She could feel herself leaning while he just waited for her to get close enough.

Harry’s gorgeous. Striking even. When she met him in the woods, she thought she was seeing someone not human. Which he isn’t but his features were so perfect she was thinking he wasn’t real. And then he started lamenting about how disappointed he was that she was human and things took a turn.

So whenever they lock eyes, the seconds feel like hours and it takes a long time for her to come back to her senses.

She pushed at his shoulders just as she was a breath away from his lips and then shook her head.

“Sorry, I…sorry.” She rushed out, carefully moving herself from his lap and sitting a cushion away from him. She picked up her forgotten phone and tried to ignore how heavy his gaze felt.

****

Harry growled, like actually growled, when he saw the outfit she was wearing to go to the fair.

“How can you be mad at a jean skirt!” She threw her hands up. He made her change ten times now, lecturing her about how cool it was going to get once the sun was down and how a dress wasn’t appropriate to wear to a fair. She argued that there wasn’t a dress code to go to a fair and he argued back that she’d never been to one so how would she know?

“Don’t you have something more comfortable? Don’t you want to be warm?” He was sitting on the couch, but now his back was straight as he tried to get her to change her outfit for the millionth time. She thought they could compromise since she put tights on underneath, but (Y/N) isn’t sure that Harry would ever be happy with her outfit choice. Mittens perched on his lap giving her the same disapproving look he was didn’t help one bit.

“I’m wearing a skirt and a jacket. Get over yourself before I leave you here. I’d be late if I had to change again.” She rolled her eyes when she turned her back to him and grabbed her purse. She hurried to the mirror next to the door and checked herself over one last time. She looked cute. And cozy. She’d be plenty warm with the flannel jacket she was wearing so all Harry’s worrying is for nothing.

When she brought out her lip gloss to finish off her look, she heard Harry mumbling to himself again. He hated when she put in any effort to see Joey but this would be the last time, so she wanted to dress how she’d normally dress on a date.

“Let’s just go before I call the whole thing off.” He snatched his car keys from the coffee table and waited for her at the door.

(Y/N) told Joey it was best that they meet at the fair. And then she told him how her cousin from out of town was staying with her and she’d feel really bad to leave him alone after he came all this way to see her. Joey didn’t mind either one and she was grateful he didn’t. She didn’t want Harry to have to squeeze himself in the back of Joey’s car because he’d be huffy the whole way. And she was glad Joey didn’t mind her “cousin” tagging along because she wouldn’t have been able to go at all if Harry didn’t come. Joey didn’t know this was the last time he’d ever see her so he didn’t think it was a big deal that they wouldn’t be alone, but (Y/N) was going to try her best to be in a good mood and not pay much attention to Harry.

The fair was pretty from the parking lot. All the lights from the rides and the sun setting, it looked like the movies and she couldn’t be more excited.

“He said he’s at the tables by the fun house.” She said just as Harry parked the car. He shot her a look and sat back in his seat.

“When I say it’s time to go, it’s time. I don’t care what you have to tell him, we’re leaving.” She barely heard him because she was already out of the car and halfway to the entrance of the place.

He caught up quickly and grabbed her by the back of her jacket collar.

“And don’t run off again because you know I’ll find you.”

(Y/N) had to pry Harry’s hand from her waist when she caught sight of Joey sitting at one of the tables people watching. He didn’t see them yet, thankfully, and she made sure to shoot Harry a look before announcing herself.

“Hi, Joey!” He turned at the sound of her voice and immediately stood to hug her. She hugged him back over the shoulders, feeling him give her an extra squeeze that nearly pulled her feet from the ground.

“Hi, (Y/N). Nice to see you.”

There was small talk for maybe two minutes before Harry just had to insert himself into the conversation. He cleared his throat and stood right beside (Y/N), keeping his face neutral.

“I’m Harry.”

(Y/N) just blinked at him and then turned to see Joey’s reaction. He took the rude interruption in stride and reached to shake his hand.

“Right! The cousin. Nice to meet you, man.”

(Y/N) had to elbow Harry in the side to get him to reach out and shake his hand. He did but she knew Joey was probably really aware that he didn’t want to.

Joey bought them all tickets before they got there. For rides, games, and food. (Y/N) couldn’t help fawning over that, because it was nice and because she knew it would grate on Harry’s nerves.

He was trailing behind them as (Y/N) held onto Joey’s arm as they caught up on their week apart. It felt natural, even though she knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, according to Harry. Maybe they’re not meant to date at all. Obviously, but she really does like Joey as a person.

They rode a few rides, like the Tilt-a-Whirl, bumper cars, and the carousel. Harry didn’t ride anything and instead stood at the gate and watched them with a very discontented look on his face. She almost felt bad, but she didn’t really know why.

Harry hasn’t been the nicest since she’s met him, but the pitiful expression he had made her heart hurt a fraction. It was probably the fact that they’re mates that she feels anything but irritation for him. The very idea of what the rest of tonight holds is keeping her in good spirits. And that has nothing at all to do with Joey surprisingly, but all to do with Harry.

Whatever happened to her in the last few months has now turned on its head. It’s like she almost wants Harry to snatch her away from the rest of her life. It didn’t sound appealing when he explained it to her then, but it doesn’t seem as bad when she thinks about it now.

They met back with Harry after the last ride and her stomach growled, but she ignored it. She wasn’t sure what Joey wanted to do yet and while she was going to suggest getting something to eat, she didn’t get the chance to. Harry already spoke up.

“I think it’s best if we eat now.” His eyes assessed her for a long moment before he turned to Joey. “She’s withering away.”

“Oh.” Joey blinked, looking down at her. “You’re hungry? You could’ve said something, let’s go.” He pulled at her hand, heading in the direction of the booths with food and treats. She met eyes with Harry before turning and she shot him a look.

He always knew exactly how she was feeling or what she wanted to an extent that it was annoying. He heard her stomach growl through all the noise and just knew. If she cared for him, she might be endeared by it, but at the moment it just bothered her.

They got in line at one booth and (Y/N) felt really impatient all of a sudden. Standing in line seemed like such a drag and while she was hungry, she just simply didn’t want to stand here with Joey’s hand on her back. It might have only been his hand that was the problem and the more she became aware of the weight of his hand, the more she felt like crawling out of her skin.

She stood straight and turned to him instead of standing beside him.

“I, uh, think I have to go to the bathroom. Do you mind ordering?” She rushed to say, trying to ignore the confusion on his face that slowly turned to understanding.

“Sure. Hurry back.” He smiled so sweetly it almost made her want to swoon. Almost. She feels bad more than anything because he’d never know the truth, he’d just never hear from her again.

“Harry. Come with me?” She nudged his arm. He was already watching her intently when she looked at him to ask. He said nothing and just followed her away from Joey and between the booths to get to the portable toilets.

Which, she was not a fan of, but she still made sure they were out of sight before grabbing Harry by the collar of his jacket and bringing her nose to his neck. (Y/N) felt so out of sorts. Smelling him like an animal. Like she needed it. He stumbled slightly before reaching his arms around her and tugging her closer.

“I feel insane. This is too much.” She breathed, looking up at him now and feeling so utterly helpless. There was nothing she could do. She wanted to be close to him, needed to be. Joey’s hand on her back made her feel like her skin was melting. Not in the way that Harry made her feel like she was going melty. In a bad, bad way. In a way that made her cringe. Because it wasn’t right. This is what Harry meant. This is what he was talking about when he said they needed to be together tonight.

“It will only get worse.” He offered no consoling words, only facts. He held her back with the same ferocity, he was just better at hiding it.

“I don’t want him to touch me.” She shook her head. “It makes me want to drown myself.”

He cracked a smile, bringing his hand up to brush some of her hair behind her ear.

“Good. Are you decent? Can we go back? I’m actually hungry.” He dropped his hands and shifted back the tiniest bit and she came right after him, wrapping her arms around his middle and whining.

“Fine.”

She stood straight only after breathing him in one last time. When she looked over her shoulder, the moon had risen just over the tops of the trees.

It was only a matter of time before this got unbearable and (Y/N) really wasn’t sure how it could get worse than this. She already felt like she needed to be in his skin, she can’t imagine what will happen once the moon is higher in the sky.

Joey was out of line when they got back and sitting with the food order they gave him before disappearing. He didn’t seem weirded out, so he must not know what they were actually doing. There would be no sane way to explain it, Joey would just think she’s a little strange. And she’d really like to avoid that before she never sees him ever again.

(Y/N) focused on the food and let Joey do most of the talking. She kept on asking questions that she knew would get him talking as she started on her cheese fries. They were very filling but she still wasn’t completely satisfied and she knew why, she just didn’t want to actually let the thought flesh out in her mind because she probably wouldn’t be sitting here much longer.

She was up out of her seat when Joey reached to grab onto her hand. There was an awkward couple of seconds as she cradled her hand and took a step toward Harry who was watching very knowingly but saying nothing as he usually does.

“Uh, how about the ferris wheel? Those are my favorite.” She pointed, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth. Joey shrugged before nodding.

“Sure.”

It’s a shame that he’s such a good guy. She hopes that he gets everything he deserves after this.

Harry trailed after them to the ferris wheel. His hands were in his pockets and he looked almost casual for someone who was apparently feeling this just as badly as she was. She glanced back at him, secretly wishing that he was walking next to her instead. But she had to be polite. Only for a little while longer.

They got in line for the ferris wheel and while it was a little longer than she wanted it to be, she didn’t mind waiting. She couldn’t wait to be at the top so she could look down on the entire fair. And then after that, she supposed it would be time to go. Time to turn her life upside down.

(Y/N) isn’t sure how she did it, but she managed to keep Joey occupied all the way up until they were at the front of the line, just waiting on an empty car to get into. She still seemed interested and she entertained all his thoughts and ideas when all she really wanted to do was bury her head into Harry’s chest and pathetically grind away in his lap. It was just a second that she thought about it and then she had to banish it from her mind because she wouldn’t be able to think straight if she thought about that.

Somehow, they got rearranged in line and when the teenager running the ride asked them how many, she said three, forgetting that the ride only fit two people. They were still ushered on and before she realized what was happening, she was buckling herself into the seat beside Harry while Joey was stuck waiting for the next car to come down.

“Sorry!” She called to him and he waved her off.

“Have fun!”

Sighing, she sat back in the seat, careful not to rock the car in any way. While she did like the ride, she wasn’t fond of the seat tilting back and forth too far, so she tried to be as still as possible.

“Is this everything you were hoping it’d be?” Harry spoke up. She jumped when the car moved up a spot so Joey was let on the seat in behind them. She waved when he looked back, smiling like he wasn’t bothered by the seating arrangement at all.

“Yeah. It’s nice.” Not a complete lie, but not that truth either. It was fun until the full moon made an appearance and was lingering in the background every second. She couldn’t think about anything else. She wasn’t sure how high in the sky it needed to be, but it was only getting higher as the minutes dragged by.

“This isn’t your last fair, you know that? You’ll still live a pretty normal life. You can keep your home and your job. It’s only me that will be much different.”

Like he hadn’t already shook things up just by finding her in the woods that day. She’s been doomed ever since then. And that fact that werewolves just exist, like that didn’t blow her mind. She still hasn’t seen him in wolf form but she really doesn’t know what it’ll do to her already fragile state of mind so she isn’t looking forward to it too much. But she knows it’ll come up eventually.

“Yeah. Somehow I don’t think that’s true.” Her hands tightened around the lap bar when the ride started. Taking them up and then over top of the wheel, just to bring them back down and around.

“You don’t see yourself being happy?”

“I mean, it’s a little weird, yeah. But I think if it’s meant to be then it won’t be after a while. I don’t know.” She shrugged, gasping when they reached the top again and she could look at all the lights down below. It was only a second because they were going back down and around again.

“It is meant to be. It won’t be weird in only a short while.” His hand shifted towards hers on the lap bar and just barely touched.

“Yeah, but what about you? You hate the fact that I’m human and pretty much rejected me as soon as you saw me.” Her eyes rolled and then she hurried to look over the scenery again. It hurt her feelings. They obviously had a strong connection despite knowing little to nothing about each other and that part excited her. But Harry didn’t seem to ever be excited about anything.

“What are you talking about?” He turned to her just as the ride jerked to a stop at almost the top, but not quite.

“You don’t like that I’m human. You’d rather be mated with someone in the pack, right? Isn’t that how it goes?”

“That’s not how it works.” He shook his head. “There aren’t many wolves that find mates within their own pack. That’s very rare.”

“Well, you seem so thrilled to be stuck with me.” Another eye roll.

“A mate at all is always a gift. Wolf or human, I couldn’t ask for anyone else to be my mate. This might be all new now, but soon you’ll understand just how grateful I am to have found you and so soon.”

“But I can tell—”

“No. You can’t. A mate is a gift.”

“Then why are you so…grumpy all the time?”

“I’m ready to fuck you. That’s why.” He said it so casually and tacked on a shrug that made her mouth twitch.

“It’s that bad that you have to be an asshole all the time?” That was almost more shocking than all the rest of it. “Wow.”

“It’s just the way it is right now. I’ve been nice enough to you I think.”

“Yeah but it never made me think you want to fuck me. It made me think you were annoyed with me.” She crossed her arms, getting a chill since they were still waiting for other people down below to load and unload. It would probably be a minute until they were able to get off.

“Same thing, isn’t it?”

“No. If you want human girls to like you, you have to be sweet. Like Joey.” Harry scoffed, his arm coming up behind her shoulders. His hand squeezed the back of her neck.

“You’re my mate. We’ll love each other anyway.”

“Love you? I’ve only known you for like, three weeks.” He was talking about things she wasn’t even ready to consider. Love. That sounds like too much too soon.

“Time doesn’t mean much when you’re mates.”

That did little to console her. He did say things would happen fast just as soon as the moon touched the sky.

Her eyes shifted from his face to the moon behind him that seemed much larger than she’s ever seen it. It was bright, the sky was clear, and it felt like everything was falling perfectly into place. It also felt like a fire was starting somewhere deep in her belly. It wouldn’t be much longer now and she knew it.

“I want to kiss you.” It left her mouth before her brain could process the meaning of even saying it. Harry didn’t look surprised, he just shook his head.

“I don’t think your date would appreciate that.” He nodded ahead at Joey who wasn’t paying them any attention and instead looking at the scenery around him.

“He’s not going to look back. Please. I need it and you know it.” She pressed close to him again so their legs touched, their shoulders, their feet. Any way she could get close to him on this stupid ride, she would. At the slightest shake of his head, she was tugging at the collar of his jacket again and leaning her head into his chest.

“Please.”

Part of (Y/N) knows he’s only doing it to torture her. He wants to be right so badly that he would let himself suffer just to prove a point.

If the lap bar wasn’t in the way, she’s sure she’d be all over him. Smelling him and pressing herself as close as possible. She couldn’t wait to leave. She’d probably have to fake sick just to get back to the car. Joey would understand, wouldn’t he?

Her eyes flashed back to the moon. It felt eye level now. Like it was spotlighting right down onto her and transforming something within her now. And then, she felt what could only be described as a gushing. Through her underwear and onto the tights. She really hoped no one would be able to see that.

Harry’s hand on her neck tightened and he huffed.

“Great. You’re soaking yourself already and we’re stuck on this ride for who knows how long.” Like he was the one that was being inconvenienced.

“Shut up. It’s you that won’t let me kiss you.” Her thighs squeezed and she shifted even closer.

“He’s going to see and how are you going to explain to Joey that you kissed your cousin?” It sounded ridiculous when he said it like that. And Joey would certainly look at them like they were insane if he saw in the first place. But she really doubted he would. It’s too much work to turn himself around in that tiny car.

“I don’t care! He’s not going to see. Please,” She pried his hand from his lap and did her best to shove it between her legs. “Anything, please.”

He sighed as if he was being bothered before he pushed his fingers further under her skirt until they brushed the now wet tights.

“Jesus.”

“It’s all your fault.” She gripped his arm and pushed him closer.

“You wanted to come here.”

“You let me. You should’ve used that dumb little alpha voice and told me no.”

“You wouldn’t have listened.” The back of his hand added pressure to the front of her underwear finally.

“You should’ve made me,” Just the warmth of his hand was enough. For now. But she still wanted a kiss. “Kiss me now.” She leaned to nip at his neck and if she knew that was all it was going to take for his free hand to grip onto her jaw and press their mouths together, she would’ve done that weeks ago.

She hoped every single pathetic little whine that she let out into his mouth was muffled, at the very least. Her mouth moved fast, she didn’t want to feel anything slow. She wanted him now, but the very top of the ferris wheel wasn’t a great place to do that. Not with all these people around anyway.

(Y/N) had been too busy with his mouth to worry about his hand between her legs. But when her tights were ripped open at the center, she knew he was probably done playing around.

Then, he just stopped. Because of course he would.

“I’ll take care of you as soon as we’re home.”

“At least kiss me!” It was louder than she meant it to be but there was no part of her that cared.

“I did.”

“Not enough.

“Plenty actually.”

“But, I don’t think I can—” (Y/N) shut her mouth as soon as she glanced to her right and saw Joey in front of them, staring back. He looked confused and a pinch hurt. Before she could find anything to shout to him, some excuse, an apology, he turned right back around and didn’t face them again for the rest of the ride.

“You’ve done it now.” Harry pulled his hand from her skirt and wiped it over his pants leg. The glare she sent him was meant to be angry, but he just smiled at her and rested his arm behind her back again.

“This really isn’t going to plan.” She pulled her hands from Harry’s jacket and sat back in the seat. Everything simmered for a moment. She felt herself pout. It was never meant to be serious with Joey but she knows that he’s still not going to be the slightest bit happy about what he just saw. There’s nothing she can even say that will make an ounce of sense. She might as well just keep quiet and let him say whatever he needs to say, if anything at all.

“He’ll be alright.” Harry brought his other hand to her cheek and gently ran the back of his hand over it. It was probably the most tender touch he’s ever offered to her. She leaned into it without thought and didn’t move until they were getting ushered off the ride.

It’s just her luck that Joey stuck around. She almost hoped he’d ditch them as soon as he got off, but it just goes to show that he really is a good guy. He looked between the two of them with a neutral expression and shook his head.

“You could’ve just told me you didn’t want to go.”

Harry hung back and let her have the space to say goodbye to Joey. (Y/N) really didn’t know what would make it better, she wouldn’t still be here if she were him. She’d be halfway to the parking lot.

“That wasn’t meant to happen like that…” She trailed off, watching him shift uncomfortably and then cross his arms. “I’ve never…kissed him before. I don’t….I’m sorry.”

It was unbelievable to her as well. She really thought she’d be able to resist what Harry claimed to be fate. She tried but it didn’t take long for her to relent as soon as the moon was high enough in the sky. She should’ve listened to Harry and stayed in. That’s a tough pill to swallow.

“Yeah. I’m sorry too. Bye (Y/N).” He turned on his heel and started walking away from them. Harry took his place back beside her and wound his arm around her waist.

“Want me to rip his throat out?” He offered casually, pulling her to face him.

“No. He gets to be a little upset. I mean, we were on a date! Imagine if you saw me kissing him, you’d die!” She doesn’t want to know what he’d really do. It would probably be much worse than that. He tugged her impossibly closer until she was pretty much forced to reciprocate the hold around his shoulders.

“No. He would. Because I’d kill him,” He stared over her shoulder at what she assumed to be Joey. “Now. I think we have somewhere to be.”

Both of their gazes shifted to the moon looming high over their heads and then back to each other.

Harry kept his hand tightly woven with hers as they tried to refrain from running to the car. Rushing, yes, but not running because that sounded ridiculous when she thought about what exactly they were rushing for.

But then he looked down at her with this heated stare as they were waiting for a line of people to cross in front of them on their way out to the parking lot. It burned all the way to her core and she remembered exactly why running was probably a great idea and made the most sense.

Once they both reached the car, as soon as the doors were shut, (Y/N) was halfway over the center console to kiss him again.

“Do you think we’ll be able to leave the park lot?” She said between breaths, only taking as long as it took to say that before pressing her mouth back to his. He didn’t even answer her before dragging her over the middle console and sitting her in his lap.

“I think I have to mark you now.”

Two weeks ago, that would’ve freaked (Y/N) out. She would have been stressing about pain or about what happens after he sinks his teeth into her, if that’s even what marking means.

But right now, nothing sounds better.

“Do it.”

Y/N met Niall under very, very embarrassing circumstances.

Being drunk, delirious over exam stress, and angry at your roommate (at the time) for leaving you alone at a random party you didn’t even want to go to was a dangerous combination for someone as worrisome as Y/N. Someone who was normally planned and poised—who had an elaborate calendar and couldn’t function without a to-do list—a state like that was a precursor to bad decisions and inevitable mortification.

It was fall of 2013. The house party she was at was some sort of frat or something (Y/N couldn’t tell you for sure), music thumped through the speakers, loud and booming, vibrating the paper-thin walls. She arrived there with her roommate—they were meant to remain close the whole night because this was a neighbourhood Y/N had never been to, so she was quite apprehensive. But Bella, being the flakiest person Y/N ever knew, disappeared on her within thirty minutes of their arrival.

When Y/N texted her asking what happened and where she was, Bella sent her a snap of the back of a guy's head, which was more than enough information for Y/N to deduce she’d been swept away by her long-running situationship and there was no hope for them reuniting that night. Alas, she was left to herself, where she resigned to angrily scrolling on her phone and sipping a beer to occupy herself until something more interesting came along. 

Things began to go wrong when Y/N felt the beginnings of a headache prickling the edge of her brain (the most common side effect of exam season in the Y/N Handbook of Life), and she made the stupid decision to consume more alcohol hoping it would help her forget about the pain. Of course, that didn’t work, and normally, Y/N liked to say she was a smart girl, but her decisions were anything but that night. Especially when the headache amplified and she reconciled to just carrying a bottle of liquor in her hand, taking occasional swigs and stumbling about in the crowded, weirdly damp and hot hallway (not one of her proudest moments, really).

She remembered bumping into a lean figure, his fingers immediately wrapping around her upper arms to balance her as she lost her footing and almost fell flat on her face. Only she wished she’d fallen through the floor and been swallowed by the earth when she looked up and realised she was drunk and gross and messy in the arms of Niall fucking Horan. 

Her heart stopped and her mouth fell open in what she thought was dismay, but was actually just nausea, because what followed her shocked admission (“Oh my god, you’re Niall Horan.”) was a bucket load of vomit, which she unleashed on his nice-looking button-up. She tried to bury most memories of that night deep in her subconscious, but the one thing she couldn’t rid from her brain was the look on his face when he realised what was happening—when she continued puking on him for thirty more seconds before passing out on his sodden chest.

That was about all she recalled from that night. The next parts were ones that Niall filled her in on when she awoke.

Apparently he ended up dragging her to the couch, where he stuck by her side and asked whoever walked past if they knew the sorry girl covered in puke asleep on his lap. He claimed mostly people just grimaced and walked away (but Y/N thinks he added that part just to toy with her feelings), and he tried getting into her phone to call a friend or something, but it was the age of passcodes—no face identification or fingerprint to unlock her screen—and Y/N was out like a light, so he wound up just taking her to his car.

He was smart enough to know not to leave a passed-out girl just on somebody’s couch (even if that somebody was his cousin’s little brother whose frat he was at). His conscience wouldn’t let him leave Y/N there all alone, and he didn’t know where she lived; all his attempts to wake her and try to get a response only resulted in her slapping her palm against his face, grumbling at him to shut up. 

That was how he found himself where he was the next morning—asleep behind his steering wheel parked up on a random street with Y/N stretched out over his backseat, snoozing. He thought it would be weird to take her back to his hotel room; firstly, he wasn’t sure he wanted the odd girl knowing where he stayed (he was very careful about protecting his location ever since he found out some fans camped outside of his house last year), and secondly, he didn’t want her to wake up and freak out because she was just in some random guy’s hotel room.

However, as much as he tried to delay the freaking out bit, he was sorely mistaken when Y/N woke up and screamed as she spotted a slumbering Niall slouched over the wheel. Poor Niall was shaken to his core and was startled awake only to scream back in her face. The shrieking had to die at some point, which was when Y/N decided to ask Niall what the fuck she was doing in his car and why he had a massive stain on his blue top that was eerily similar to the one on her dress. 

Niall, however, was a fucking saint and a sweetheart.

Y/N learned this about him when he urged her to calm down and carried her through a breathing exercise so she wasn’t hyperventilating like a madman and gently explained to her what happened the night before and why she wasn’t in her bed and in his backseat instead. He saw as she went through several emotions—anger, at her roommate for leaving her alone at the party; embarrassment, for throwing up all over Niall; gratitude, towards the same man for taking care of her when she was abandoned.

The reality of the situation dawned on her as she acknowledged the incessant pounding headache (which never left her last night but only got worse) echoing in her skull; the morbid aftermath of how much she regrettably had to drink. 

To please her own morale, Y/N ended up begging Niall to let her buy him a new shirt and some breakfast as compensation for what she put him through. At first, he was reluctant—told her he was just being a good samaritan and it was his duty as a respectful young man not to leave a drunk girl unconscious at a frat house. It took about fifteen minutes of convincing and Y/N telling him that if he didn’t let her do this, she would hate herself for the rest of her life (dramatic, she knows, but she never claimed to be a reasonable girl) for him to finally agree to go to the mall with her where she’d “clean him right up and get his belly fed,” like he was a cat or summat.

She directed Niall to her dorm for a quick pit stop, where she grabbed a hoodie for him and a change of clothes for herself, making the effort to look at least a little bit presentable before going shopping with an international popstar.

They went to one of those smarmy stores she normally walked right past to get him a new shirt that looked like the one that she ruined. The purchase made a huge dent in Y/N’s dried-up bank account, but she refrained from saying anything at all—no price tag could ever come close to the amount of trauma and embarrassment she suffered the past night.

For breakfast she treated him to an IHOP platter, and it was then that she understood the saying that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.

It was over that greasy diner table, with a shopping bag tucked by their feet, when Y/N realised how easy it was to get on Niall’s good side. With a stack of pancakes and about four hash browns in him, Niall was opening up to Y/N like she was his long-lost sister or something of the sort. It wasn't every day Y/N was presented with the opportunity to have breakfast sitting across from the Niall Horan from fucking One Direction, so she used and abused the chance to ask him questions galore.

She started small, asking about life in the spotlight, fame, and whatnot—and when he began giving her long, rambly answers, she took that as her sign to dig a little deeper. Y/N was a nosy bitch, and she was bored—she loved the band; she loved their music—she’d regret it forever if she didn’t get any answers to all the questions she’d been wondering since she was like 18. Like what life on the road was like, what really happens in the bathrooms at the Grammys, were all the presents on the Ellen Show real or not; shit like that.

Niall was funny, and he was unfiltered—who doesn’t love talking about themselves for eons when the other person is a willing listener? He seemed more than happy to satiate her desire, eagerly giving her replies and indulging her in entertaining stories he seldom got to share with other people.

 But he wasn’t going to give all his little thoughts and anecdotes out for nothing in exchange, so he drilled into her brain as well; picked at her psyche; asked her all about her degree, how she ended up in that city, what the fuck she was even doing at the party the past night, etc. Conversation with Niall was easy, and Y/N was a simple girl, so she had answers to all his questions, which entertained him enough to continue gabbing away with her as much as his heart wanted.

Y/N thought that was a one-and-done situation—she’d never see Niall again, and the whole interaction would just become a funny story she’d tell her grandkids one day when she was eighty.

What she didn’t expect was for Niall to ask her number as he dropped her back off at her dorm. Even at that point she thought he was probably just being polite. She didn’t think anything would ever come out of it—what would the Niall Horan from One Direction ever contact Y/N for? Especially considering the circumstances under which they met.

But she was utterly mistaken when the following weekend Niall texted her and asked her if she was free to join him and a few mates at a pub that was doing some sort of game night. To her surprise, Y/N was a hit with his friends (whom, before she met, she was expecting were going to be like David Beckham and Selena Gomez or something, but were actually just his schoolmates Jennie and Fred) and Niall really liked her, if his body glued to her side and his retelling of how they met was anything to go off of.

From then on, she and Niall were inseparable.

According to him, they were besties. When he was in her city, he’d swing her a text and see if she was free to see him, and that slowly progressed into him just showing up at her place unannounced with his overnight bag slung on his shoulder. Sometimes they’d go out—try a new food place or go bar hopping with their other friends—and sometimes they’d stay in and watch a movie, order food, and catch up on everything they missed in their time apart.

That’s precisely how she found herself here tonight; sitting on her living room floor with endless pages and books surrounding her, pen marks smudged all over her fingers as she manically highlighted, with Niall sat across from her on her couch. She was balls deep into exam season once more—the last one she’d ever have to go through, for which she sincerely thanked God.

Niall knocked on her door about three hours ago, blissfully unaware of her frazzled state. That’s what he got for never checking with her anymore about what she was up to before showing up at her dorm—a formality he didn’t bother to fulfill for the past year or so. While Y/N rubbed her temples fretting about a chart she couldn’t get right no matter how much she redid it, Niall locked his phone and groaned loudly.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, just take a fucking break! I’ve been here f’ages and you won’t even talk to me,” He exclaimed, chucking a pillow in her direction. Already hanging on by a thread, she barely stopped herself from snapping at him, instead resorting to throwing the pillow back at him, hard, “It’s not my fault you show up to my house unannounced! What if I wasn’t home? What if I had a hot date, or something?” She mused aloud. Y/N could only hope for that last bit to hold any truth—she found no time for romance at all in her life.

Of course, Niall knew this and abused it, “I don’t think you’ve been on a date since that bloke Danny, or what was his name? The one who said he can’t eat pussy ‘cause he’s allergic?”

With that, Y/N’s thread snapped, and a stray highlighter went whizzing in the air to hit his chest, “I’m never telling you anything about anything anymore.” This only amused Niall, who chuckled and sat up and tossed the highlighter back into her ocean of pages, “Not true. You tell me everything.”

“Well, I’m going to stop very fucking soon if you don’t let me focus on this chart.”

“Let me help.”

Y/N gave him a look. “No.”

“Why not?” Niall continued persisting. How he could possibly help her draw the logarithmic scale which even she as a fourth year engineering student couldn’t get right, Y/N was unsure—and where he got the confidence to ask her so blatantly was also lost on her.

“Because I'd like to pass.”

He scoffed. “Wow.”

“Contrary to popular belief, my suffering isn't a spectator sport.” Y/N replied, keeping her eyes on the page. Niall sighed, “Fine, then. I’ll leave you alone—as long as you promise we can get Taco Bell after.” 

“Sure.” At that point, she would have agreed to anything if it meant he gave her a couple of minutes to figure out this godforsaken chart which ate away at her brain. They settled into silence after that, the sound of Y/N’s pencil scratching against the page filling her small living room. Niall scrolled on his phone, lying down on her couch with a leg thrown up the back of it like he owned the damn place. 

The quiet lasted about nine minutes before he began talking again. “Have you got many exams left?” he inquired, dropping his phone on his tummy. He reached across to grab a pencil, which he fiddled with mindlessly. “Three.” Y/N hummed.

“And then you're done?”

“Then I'm done.”

“Like completely done?” He repeated. 

Y/N glanced up. “Why are you asking?”

“Just wondering.”

“Niall.” He grinned, like he knew something and he wasn’t going to let up that easily. Y/N was growing more and more wary of him—this cheeky side was one she was very privy to. Enough that she knew nothing good usually came out of it. “What?” He asked innocently.

“You only use that voice when you're about to ask me for something.”

“That's not true.”

“It is.” She said. She set down her pencil so she could give him her undivided attention. Something told her what he had to say wasn’t going to be the easiest pill to swallow. He attempted to sway away from the topic, beating around the bush as he pointed at her. “See? You tell me everything and you know all my habits.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “What are you plotting?”

Niall shifted upright. “Okay, so. Hypothetically.”

“Oh, God.” She murmured. Lazily, she rubbed her eye with her knuckle. The tiredness she’d been accumulating for the past two weeks was unfortunately now catching up with her as she geared up for what he had to say.

“Hypothetically, if someone had a few weeks off after exams—”

“Where is this going?” Y/N asked distrustfully.

“—and hypothetically, if that someone was incredibly stressed and desperately needed to leave this room before she merged with her textbooks—”

“Niall.” She stated with her eyebrows furrowed, a pinched expression on her face. “Would they maybe consider coming away for a bit?” He said the last bit without meeting her eyes, the first telltale sign that he was nervous, which was an odd thing for her to see as Niall was hardly ever timid. Y/N blinked, “Away where?”

“With me.”

The words caught her off guard. So off guard, her brain struggled to formulate words, lips shaped a soft ‘o’, dumbfoundedly. “With you where?” She managed to stutter after looking clueless for a few seconds.

“On tour.” Niall continued. He shrugged, like he'd suggested grabbing coffee and didn’t just ask her to come hang out with him across the globe while attending the most coveted and sought-after concerts in the world, “You should come for a few shows.”

“A few shows?”

“Yeah.”

“Niall, that's in, like, actual countries.”

“That's usually how tours work.”

She laughed despite herself. She couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation. Y/N was half convinced this was all just her crazy, overworked brain trying to trick her into a scenario she desperately wanted to believe was true but wasn’t actually. “I'm serious,” he said. “You finish exams, you celebrate not having to look at another chart for a month, and you come with me.”

“Niall…” Y/N began. Her tummy was already fluttering at the prospect of his request. It was an insane thing to offer someone who was so painfully normal like Y/N, but the thought of it was exciting, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise. She’d always wondered what life on the road was like, and she was a huge fan of the band whom she’d only seen live one time when Niall gifted her tickets for her birthday last year. 

He tended to keep his work and personal life very separate, so although Y/N had heard heaps about the boys and knew more about them than they probably did her, she’d never actually met them. Niall did suggest many times if she wanted a photo or an autograph or anything, but Y/N was always too shy to accept—what if talking to them wasn’t as easy as it was talking to Niall?

Besides, she really valued Niall, and she didn’t want him to think she was using him to meet the other boys and like, get ins, or something—even though the reasonable side of her knows Niall surely wouldn’t think that of her. She’d heard too many horror stories from him about people using him for fame and money, so she was careful about what she said and did around him when it came to things such as this.

“Whaaaat?” He drawled, snapping her out of her thoughts. He came down so he could join her on the carpet. 

“You can't just casually invite me on tour.”

“Why not?”

Y/N’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Because that's insane!” She exclaimed, hands coming up in exasperation. 

“It isn't.”

“It is for normal people.”

“Maybe. Doesn't change the fact that I want you to come.”

Y/N looked back down at her page, but the chart suddenly seemed a lot less important. Her mind was riddled with hundreds of questions, what if’s and how’s that she had a hard time conveying to Niall.

When she looked at him and the hope on his face, suddenly the idea wasn’t as daunting as it was before. He was her best friend, and he was asking so genuinely; like he really, truly wanted her there with him. Saying ‘no’ to Niall was always a difficult feat for Y/N—if she ever did, he looked at her with so much longing, like a sad kitten on the side of the road—which was exactly how he was watching her now.

“It’ll be like a free, all-expenses-paid holiday. You’ve been working so hard… just think about it,” He said, quietly, setting his lips into a straight line. 

Every second that passed, Y/N felt her resolve shatter more and more. She blamed her exam-driven state for the thoughts spinning in her mind, trying to convince her that the idea wasn’t a bad one, and it might do her some good to get out of the city and far away from the piles of academic books that flooded her bedroom.

Against her better judgement, Y/N agreed to at least think it over. Across from her, Niall looked far too pleased with himself, undoubtedly already filing this away as yet another “argument” he'd won and would gleefully bring up for years to come. 

-

Y/N was fucking nervous.

She kept messing with her dress, seeing how it looked when she tugged it up, then tugging it back down when she decided maybe it was a bit promiscuous. It was a black number with a square neckline that showed off her collarbones and chest, the bodice lacy and hugging her figure in all the right places. This was one of her emergency outfits—one that she could wear any day, any time, and she’d know she looks great in it. 

Her makeup matched—eyeliner smudged strategically and lips painted red—but the more she looked at her reflection, the more her conscience whispered to her that maybe she was doing too much. When she sent a quick photo to Niall asking if she looked proper, he said it was perfect, and she only hoped he was being completely honest with her and wasn’t just saying that so she stopped spamming him with texts.

She paired the outfit with short heels, through which peeked her pedicured toes (which she literally only got done for this occasion) and bits of gold jewellery decorated her skin. Having worn the exact same thing before and gotten compliments galore, Y/N knew she looked good, but again, the nerves got to her, and she was now second guessing even going to this thing.

Four days after Niall made her the offer to join him on tour, Y/N agreed.

She spent those days mulling over the pros and cons, overthinking every bit and playing out imaginary scenarios in her head which were probably way too irrational to ever occur in real life. At the same time, she had to give her exams, and with that stress mixing in with her indecisiveness, her frontal lobe was fucking fried, and maybe that was what led to her finally saying yes to to join him. The decision making part of her brain was so overworked, perhaps it stopped operating entirely.

That was what she told herself—the rational version of her would never agree to something like that on a whim. At least not until considering for at least a month to get her affairs in order. But exam stress brought out another side to her. Someone with a lot less thinking capacity to make good, reasonable choices.

At last, she ended up here; worrying limitlessly about how she looked before she headed out to have drinks with Niall and the rest of the boys, plus some people from their crew. They were due to start the tour next week, and Niall suggested it was a good idea for everyone to go out that weekend to get to know each other a little bit, before Y/N would basically be living with them for the next couple of months.

Absolutely fucking bonkers, she knows—and she hasn’t failed to bring this up with Niall, who told her she’d be great, and everyone was really nice and easy to talk to; that her fears were wholly unnecessary. Hoping that was the case, Y/N gave herself a little pep talk (stupid, maybe, but it was something she saw in an article a few years ago and it surprisingly works) and made her way downstairs where Niall was standing waiting for her by his car.

“Y’look stunning,” He reassured her, leaning against the driver’s side door as she walked over. The cool wind nipped at her exposed legs, making goosebumps pimple on her skin, “It’s weird when you’re nice to me. Aberrant.”

Niall raised his brows, “Would you rather I be mean?” She crossed the hood and settled into the passenger seat, watching him get in soon after. “I rather you be honest.”

“I am being honest.”

“Really?”

He hummed. “Yes.”

“Thank you, Niall, you look lovely yourself,” Y/N plastered on a big, playful smile on her face—one that told the boy she was using humor to cope with her anxiousness for how the night would go. “Mmm. Nah, you’re right. Don’t think the nice thing works when you do it.”

She nudged his shoulder teasingly, trying desperately to act normal and not at all overwrought. Niall gave her a rundown of who would be there as they arrived—Zayn, Louis and Harry—obviously, and then Ben and Paddy who worked closely with them on the road. He kept assuring her that they were all kind and were definitely not going to gag and spit at the sight of her like she thought they would (her brain had no limits when exploring how many ways a situation could go wrong. A curse, really). 

The place they all agreed to meet at had a low profile; so low that Y/N had never heard of it, having lived in the city for nearly six years now. She assumed this was so they could enjoy their time without worrying about getting photographed, which was such a bizarre concept to Y/N—something she never ever had to consider in her entire life, but maybe now was the time to do it. 

And, fuck, it was back. Her mind was reeling again.

What if she got papped with the band while on tour? Would people spread nasty rumours about her? Would they dig into her past and stalk her family, like Niall told her was a real thing that happened? Or would they be kind to her? Y/N was going to lose her mind. No, scratch that—she’d already lost it. She wouldn’t be here if she had even a semblance of logic behind h—

“We’re here!” Niall exclaimed, pulling her out of her thoughts. He parked the car a little ways from a dimly lit building, though Y/N couldn’t see any sign of a bar or anything like that around. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought he might’ve gotten the wrong address, “You sure, Ni?” She asked, warily stepping out of the car. Niall came around to her side, “Yup.” His lips popped at the end of the word, but he was doing nothing to resolve her confusion—instead, interlocking their arms and walking towards an eery, lone door, “Niall…”

“It’s an underground bar. I told you that,” He stated matter of factly. Niall used the right side of his body to push the heavy door, leading Y/N inside where they went down a narrow staircase. “I didn’t think you meant literally!”

Niall merely rolled his eyes, further guiding them through a small hallway, which opened into a warmly lit room, low music drifting through the air, “Just be yourself,” He murmured softly in her ear, slipping his hand down to her forearm and giving her a comforting squeeze. Y/N was too in awe of the place to acknowledge the gesture, looking around with her lips slightly agape.

The place was charming in a way regular bars weren’t.

The walls were made of wide, beige brick, decorated with numerous posters and photgraphs—some promoting music that Y/N recognised, and some that she didn’t. There was a bar that stretched across the right side of the room, with three bartenders serving customers engaged in lively conversation. The lighting was yellow and cast a golden hue, effortlessly making the space more dreamier as it gave way to a circular platform where several private booths were occupied by various parties.

Situated at the very end of the bar table was the group of five Y/N had (by that point) burned into her memory. Embarrassingly, just from afar she recognised some of their features. There was more purpose in their step now as they walked over, and Y/N was doing everything in her power to not fidget with her fingers like she normally did when intimidated. 

“Niall!” They all collectively yelled, arms out wide. Niall grinned from ear-to-ear, immediately getting swallowed into a series of hugs and shoulder slaps. Y/N lingered half a step behind, smiling politely as the group bickered amongst themselves.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Zayn’s tone was teasing and sarcastic as he greeted the boy, “You're late.”

“Twenty minutes late,” Louis corrected.

“Twenty-three,” Zayn said.

“Christ, do any of you have jobs?” Naill replied. A dry laugh escaped his lips, clearly enjoying the banter he pretended to be annoyed by.

This was fine. Totally fine.

She could stand here unnoticed for the rest of the evening, and she’s 100% fine with that.

Her gaze jumped from person to person, finally able to put real life faces to names she only heard about. Zayn and Louis were both gorgeous (how could she ever expect anyhing else), dressed casually in jeans and a tee like they were just a bunch of normal lads having normal drinks at a normal bar. Y/N was still struggling to comprehend the sheer reality of the situation.

Ben and Paddy were engrossed in heavy conversation but broke apart to greet Niall—they were both on the older side, but Niall seemed comfortable with them (and also talked about them heaps when they were alone) so she wasn’t as apprehensive as she would usually be around middle aged men at bars. The only person missing from the table was Harry. 

“Oi,” Niall suddenly said, stepping aside. “This is Y/N.”

The group's attention shifted to her all at once, and her worst nightmare was suddenly coming to life. Y/N smiled as authentically as she could without looking crazy, “Hi everyone.”

“Y/N!” Louis greeted her warmly. “Finally. Nice to put a face to the stories.” He reached out a hand for her to shake; firm yet welcoming. Zayn followed the gesture. Her jittery nerves eased a little bit when they all gave her inviting smiles and soft ‘hello’s—perhaps this wasn’t going to be as awful and damning as she was expecting it to be. 

“Niall's told stories?” Y/N asked before she could stop herself.

“Hundreds,” Ben replied.

“Thousands,” Paddy added.

“Mostly good ones, I hope,” She joked. Thankfully, it landed, and the group chuckled, “Never heard a bad thing about you, love,” Zayn comforted. They’d saved two seats for her and Niall right next to each other, and there was an empty one on his other side, which she assumed was Harry’s, though there was no sign of him at the table yet.

If Y/N was being truthful, meeting Harry was the one aspect of tonight that probably scared her the most.

One; because he was a part of the band, and she was anxious about meeting everyone from the start, and two; because she (perchance) already had a small, tiny, little baby crush on him. This was something she kept entirely to herself—a secret that could never see the light of day.

It wasn’t like a massive thing though—she wasn’t in love with him or anything.

He was sort of her favorite member ever since she knew of the band, and this dated way back to before she and Niall first met. She always thought he had a boyish, magnetic appeal to him; pretty green eyes paired with deep dimples that appeared when he flashed his million-dollar smile. She liked his long, curly hair and his raspy voice which she would melt over when watching interviews or listening to the radio. It was very surface level, to be fair. Mostly physical attraction, which she would will herself to keep at ba—

“What’d I miss?” His voice sent chills down her spine as it came from behind her, causing her to turn her neck and find the source.

If you hooked Y/N up to an EKG machine, she’s certain you’d find her heart stopped beating for the second she first saw Harry, in the flesh—in all his glory. Sure, she’d seen countless photos and videos of him performing, caught off guard, smiling intentionally, looking intently at interviewers as they stumbled over their words to ask him a question; but Y/N was discovering something entirely new as she let her eyes drink him in slowly.

He was unfairly beautiful in person. 

There was something devastating in the way his presence outshone everyone else at the table by a thousand miles. He was tall—taller than she expected, actually, but it did something funny to her stomach as it jumped at the sight of him looming over all the boys. He wore black jeans and a leopard print button-up (if she could even call it that; most of the top was undone) which revealed smooth, tattooed skin that Y/N wanted to run her hands over and trace with the tip of her finger. His hair was down and almost went past his shoulders; soft curls that hugged his ears and framed his face. And his face… fuck, if Y/N wasn’t already sitting, she might’ve been on the floor by now. Hary had strong yet pleasing features—green eyes that twinkled beneath the bar’s lighting; a straight nose which led down to plump, pink, and soft-looking lips which curved around a grin. He had broad shoulders and massive hands, decorated with rings on each finger, which Y/N was tempted to pull off and slide on her own, just to gush over how big they were.

“Sorry,” he said, glancing around the table, “Got caught up talking to someone.” His voice was, unsurprisingly, deep—a warm baritone that was somehow even smoother in person. “We were just getting to know Y/N over here,” Ben said, gesturing towards her with his drink in hand. Y/N schooled her expression into one of cool and calm, masking the fact that she was seconds away from forgetting her own name. She met his gaze, “Hi.”

His eyes dragged leisurely over her body, burning a hot line that ran from her face down to the tips of her toes—like he had all the time in the world to memorise her features. She tried to control her fidgeting under his watch, but it was hard to do so when his mouth curled into a cheeky smirk that had her pulse quickening again, “Hi.”

A painfully simple exchange, yet somehow she felt like she’d forgotten how conversations worked.

“Harry,” He said, the same hand she was just oogling at, now stretched towards her for a handshake. She hoped he didn’t sense her nervousness as she returned it. His palm was cool against her warm, flushed skin, a second of solace before he pulled it back. “Nice to meet you,” Y/N was being polite—cordial—the safest bet to ensure he didn’t start secretly hating her guts like her anxiety convinced her he would.

“I’m guessing Niall prepared you for us?” Harry took his seat next to Niall, patting his shoulder in greeting. 

“He mostly told me you’re all normal.”

“Bit generous.” 

She found herself laughing before she realised, and Harry had a pleased expression on his face when he noticed his effect on her. “Okay, don’t scare her off in the first five minutes,” Louis said, glancing at the group, “She’s still new.”

Y/N immediately shook her head. “You’re not scaring me off.”

“Good answer,” Harry said lightly. Her eyes flickered back to him and he winked slyly at her.

The small act made her cheeks go hot, and Y/N thanked herself for putting on more blush than usual that night to balance out her dark outfit. The universe must have it out for her, the way she melted and got flustered at every small thing he did—or maybe she was being delusional (which is actually the truer and more probable thing), thinking too much into the wink and the grins and whatnot. Y/N took a hidden, deep breath to compose herself.

She was grateful the conversation quickly moved on as everyone began ordering drinks and finger foods. Y/N was playing it safe, so she ordered her trademark espresso martini. Niall told her before they left that he was coming out with the intent to get shitfaced that night, so he went all in and ordered everyone shots and the strongest thing on the menu for himself. The only people who weren’t drinking were Zayn and Harry, who both went on some sort of pre-tour cleanse where they didn’t drink or smoke or eat unhealthy for two weeks before getting on the road, which she thought was admirable considering they were literally in the middle of a bar watching as their friends got looser.

As much as she hated to admit it, Niall was right, and everyone was actually really nice and kind to her. They made jokes and filled her in if something came up about which she had no clue. Louis made sure she ate and drank whatever she wanted and told her she shouldn’t be scared to hold back or anything, as management was going to cover the costs. The music was nice and the people were nice—Niall was a steady presence next to her who kept her grounded, though he was slipping away more and more as he consumed drink after drink.

She should’ve seen it coming, really.

When he began leaning on her body, telling her how lucky he was to be her best friend, and then launching into a ten-minute spiel about a new vacuum cleaner he wanted to buy, which he saw on TikTok and thought was pretty nifty. She should’ve seen it coming when he went to the toilet for the seventh time in two hours, actually, only to return and beg her to play with his hair “like she always did.”

Niall was way past being fun drunk—crossing into the dangerous category of messy drunk, with which Y/N, sadly, had a lot of experience. She realised this when he texted her to help him walk back from his eighth trip to the toilet (ifell cabn we go h o me) and Y/N had to excuse herself from the table to go find her friend, who was sitting hunched over on a random chair outside the toilets. He showed off his pearly whites when he caught sight of her, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had just been defeated by a night out.

“There she is,” he announced, lifting his arms like she was some sort of hero arriving to save him. “My favourite person in the whole world.”

“You say that nearly every time you need something from me.”

“That is not true.”

“Niall,” She warned. He paused, thinking hard. “Okay. Maybe a little true.”

She sighed. “Come on. We’re going home.”

Niall nodded ‘no’ animatedly, “I don’t want to go home.”

“Niall, you’re sitting outside the toilets.”

“Exactly. Look at this place. Memories.” He hiccuped as the last word left his lips and clutched his stomach tightly, all signs pointing towards another unfortunate vomit situation she would do anything to avoid. Her dress was too nice to destroy with the contents of his guts. 

“You’ve been here for ten minutes.”

“And they’ve been the best ten minutes of my life.”

Y/N ignored all protests and leaned down to slide her arm beneath his pits and attempt to hoist him up. The sheer weight of his limp body knocked the breath from her lungs. She was a strong girl, but this was pushing the bounds of her endurance. “Niall,” she groaned. “You’re heavy.”

He hiccuped again, “I’m a man of substance.”

“You’re a man of bad decisions.”

She was halfway to convincing him to take another step, when as she heaved him up, she bumped into a hard body. The scent of vanilla and musk hit her before she even had the chance to look up, and when she did, another wave of silent curses were sent directly to the universe for its impeccable timing. “I’m so sorry,” She hurried to say, still balancing Niall on her arm. 

“S’alright. Let me help,” Harry offered. Before she could protest, he wrapped an arm around Niall’s midsection and helped him upright in one swift motion—like he weighed nothing. “Harry m’buddy… love you, ‘n’ I love your hair,” Niall mumbled. He stuck his face in his curls and inhaled dramatically, “Great smell, mate, wha’ shampoo is that?” He snorted, “Shampoo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N repeated again. She went to Niall’s other side and walked with Harry, who seemed to be going back to the bar. “Y’already said that. Plus, he’s my mate too—think we can share that burden,” He joked, “Takin’ him home?”

Y/N hummed, “For sure. He definitely can’t drive, though.”

Harry only nodded and stopped at the end of the bar that was closest to the exit. “Oi!” He called towards the group. Everyone turned their heads towards the three of them, “M’taking these lot home. Niall’s gone off the rails again.”

The boys yelled their goodbyes from across the room, telling Y/N how nice it was to meet her and how they’d see her again next week for tour. The words made her slightly giddy as she anticipated the weeks to come, but she didn’t dwell on it further—a giggly Niall pulled her from her reverie, “You’re my bestestest friend.”

“You’re my best friend too, Niall,” She replied. Harry used his free arm to push the door open and the cool wind nipped at their skin. Niall always got sweet on her when they drank too much, so she was used to this affectionate side of him. Especially when she reached into his back pocket to grab his keys and he laughed like she was performing the circus before him, “‘least buy me dinner first!”

“C’mon, mate,” Harry mumbled. Y/N quickly unlocked the door and held it open as Harry helped Niall inside the car. Upon the first touch of expensive leather, Niall flopped down across the backseat. “Thank you so much, I love you to the moon and back.”

Harry patted his knee and shut the door gently, “Love you too.”

Once they had him tucked safe and sound in the car, they both sighed. Y/N leaned against the passenger side, “You really don’t have to do this. You deserve to have a good time with your friends.”

Harry looked over at her, “And miss this?”

She followed his gaze to the backseat, where Niall was already half-asleep, completely unaware of the conversation happening around him.

“This?”

“Exactly.”

A laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it. Talking to Harry was easy, she discovered—like it was when she first met Niall. Conversation flowed, and he was funny and witty and dangerously handsome…. the girl had to remind herself to stay in check around him. 

“Let me drive.”

Y/N would have argued with him on that but she was both too tired to do so, and also slightly tipsy herself. Harry was fully sober, and he was offering, so she softly agreed and handed him the car keys. Their fingers brushed and electricity zapped up her arm, flooding her nerves. He got the door for her before rounding the hood and getting in himself, ever the gentleman.

As Y/N settled into the seat, the weight of the situation sunk into her bones. Knowing her, if she dwelled on it too much, she’d probably start hyperventilating (and maybe crying), so she told herself to hold it together, at least until she was alone. A moment later, Harry joined her in the car. He wasted no time in turning it on and Y/N told him which way her flat was. Niall was planning to crash at hers anyways after drinks, so surely he wouldn’t freak out when he woke up on her couch. The soft sound of his snores filled the silence.

So…” Harry continued after a moment. “What’s the verdict?”

“The verdict?”

“On us.”

She smiled. “You mean the band?”

“Yeah.”

She pretended to think about it. “You’re all still normal.”

A quiet laugh left him. He was so fucking cute it drove her insane. She knew this wouldn’t be easy—touring with the band, hanging out with all of them—she expected awkward moments and feeling left out. But this… being in a car with Harry fucking Styles, who looked like a bloody model while doing the simple act of driving, with her cheeks going red and her heart doing sommersaults in her chest… this was something entirely new that she did not account for at all.

“Still sticking with that?”

“Mostly.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Mostly?”

Y/N glanced at him, a little smile on her red-painted lips, “Niall lowers the average.” Harry laughed again (she might be winning in life, actually), shaking his head.

“You asked for my honest opinion.”

“Did I?”

“You asked for the verdict.”

A beat passed. Then he glanced over at her. “Fair enough.”

The rest of the ride was spent with Harry asking her little things about herself—what uni she went to, where she was born, the kind of small talk that came naturally between two people who were still getting to know each other. Somehow, it never felt forced; it was more comfortable—paired with the occasionally loud snore that resounded from the backseat and Harry’s quiet humming of a tune she wasn’t privy to. She didn’t live far from town, so within five or so minutes he was parking up outside her building. 

They worked together to wake Niall enough so he could walk a little bit on his own, and then she guided them inside and up the elevator to her flat. 

It was in that elevator when it hit her—Harry Styles was just about to enter her home.

Suddenly, she couldn’t remember the state that she left it in. When she was getting ready right before going out was generally when it was at it’s messiest, so she knew whatever was waiting behind that door was not going to be easy on the eyes. She prayed he wouldn’t judge her and think her a slob as her key clicked and she pushed the door inwards.

There were a few leftover pages and books scattered on her living room table, accompanied by a candle and an array of highlighters. A stray pair of shorts were on the armrest of her couch, and her TV was still on playing Friends at a low volume (she liked to have something playing in the background while she did mundane things like cleaning, showering, or getting ready. Anything to stop her thoughts from straying into dangerous overthinking territory).

“Sorry about the mess,” she mumbled, moving the mismatched throw pillows from her couch, “Just set him down here.” It took a bit of fumbling, but a minute later Niall was curled up on her couch comfortably, still snoring. Y/N knelt to get his shoes off.

Harry glanced around the room. "Mess?"

Her cheeks warmed. "It's... lived in."

"Looks nice. You’ve a cute place."

She clapped her hands after she was done and tugged her dress down where it had ridden up a bit. “Thank you,” Y/N replied sincerely, “Would you like something to drink?”

Harry hummed, “Water?”

He looked a little odd just standing there in her girly apartment, littered with knickknacks she collected from farmer’s markets, stuff her friends and family brought her from overseas, a polaroid wall of all her favorite moments… it was almost intimate. Y/N pictured this night going a hundred different ways, but this occurring was definitely not on her list.

Slightly jittery, Y/N went into her moderately cluttered kitchen to get him a glass of water. As she walked towards him with the drink, she noted he found a seat on her other couch and was watching her intently—the same heat in his gaze from earlier at the bar when they were first introduced.

“Thanks.”

A beat passed.

“I was curious to meet you,” Harry began.

“Why?” She inquired.

“Niall talks about you enough,” He finished his drink.

“Does he?”

“Constantly,” He set the glass down, and Y/N laid a throw blanket on Niall’s body, biting back a smile as a certain fondness for her slumbering best friend washed over her.

“Hope I didn't disappoint.”

Harry looked at her for a second. “Not even close.” 

Her cheeks fired up again as she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch he was on, and there was this unexpected newfound confidence in here—maybe because he spoke with her so gently, or he made her feel oddly at ease—but she felt like she could share parts of her she seldom did with strangers. “I was very nervous about tonight,” She said softly, pulling her bare knees to her chest. Harry’s eyes flitted towards the smooth expanse of exposed skin for a second before coming back up to her face, “How come?”

“I wanted to make a good impression, y’know? Joining you guys on tour… there’s going to be a lot of me.” Her hands moved animatedly as she talked—another one of her nervous tics she prayed he didn’t notice. “I think having you around will be good.” Harry replied.

Her lips parted slightly. “Yeah?”

He nodded, like it was obvious. “Yeah. Someone who’s nice and easy to talk to,” Y/N smiled shyly, which prompted him to continue. Then, like he hadn’t just made her heart stumble, he added, “Also helps that you’re very pretty.”

Y/N was slightly taken aback—she didn’t expect the conversation to steer in this direction; she always find it hard to take compliments too, so she tried not to stutter over her next words, “Oh. Thank you.”  His expression softened into something teasing, his lips curving into a knowing smile. She was flustered, and somehow he seemed to enjoy this state of her, if the pleased look on his face told her anything. 

“I better get going,” He eventually spoke, saving her from doing something embarrassing, like offering him her life savings or something, for making her feel the way he did. “Do you need a ride?” Y/N asked. Harry stood up and nodded no, Y/N following him as he made his way to her front door, “Thanks, but my hotel’s only a short walk from here.”

Her hands were clasped behind her back when he opened the door, looking down at her, “It was really nice meeting you, Y/N,” He said. There was genuineness in his tone that made a certain warmth spread through her, and she tried to return his sentiment as much as she could, “You too, Harry. Get home safe.”

Once the door closed, the reality of the night finally caught up with her; Harry Styles had been in her flat, called her (very) pretty right to her face, and somehow she was already looking forward to seeing him again. 

-

Y/N was just about the cutest little thing Harry’d seen in a long time.

She was beautiful (of course)—that much was clear to him when he first caught sight of her at the bar that night. He’d ran into an old mate outside the toilet who yapped Harry’s ear off for fifteen minutes when he noticed Y/N and Niall enter the room from afar. How Niall kept such a pretty secret from him for so long, Harry doesn’t know, but he sure grilled his friend about it later when a couple of days passed and the night’s event sobered up.

Niall only shrugged, told him he never really looked at Y/N that way, so didn’t assume anyone else would either, but Harry thought he must be fucking crazy, because who on earth would look at a face like that and not want it all for themselves? It didn’t help that she was timid and soft-spoken, yet smart, considering the impressive engineering degree she was working toward. She was funny too—everyone loved her that night, the boys’ groupchat pinging with texts that chided Niall for keeping her hidden away all this time.

And, fuck, she kept getting all giddy and nervous when he talked to her, and it was doing things to him. Everyone always told him their first impression of him was that he was intimidating, so someone he’s just met being jittery around him wasn’t something new for Harry. Perhaps this time it made a difference to him because it was coming from Y/N—her lips parted and her eyes went round, accompanied by red cheeks when he told her she was very pretty and easy to talk to. Knowing he could make her feel like that with merely his words was a dangerous and addicting rush of adrenaline Harry wouldn’t mind getting used to.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to having her around on tour. Being on the road was one of Harry’s favorite parts of his career—he always loved travelling, and he loves performing, so being able to do those things together with some of his closest friends meant a lot to him. But they also performed with the same crew, the same exact songs to the same sea of people over fifty times, and although he adored it to no end, at some point, it does get a teensy bit repetitive.

So he hoped a fresh face like Y/N being there would bring something new to the tour—something interesting, which kept him guessing and maybe pining, because if Harry was anything after a performer, it was a fucking flirt—and Y/N had already piqued his curiosity more than he'd care to admit. Suffice to say, he was immediately on board when Niall suggested she'd be joining them for the first few months.

When night one rolled around, the team had already flown down to Sydney, Australia. Y/N was technically Niall’s plus one, so she got to ride with the boys in their private jet. It was lovely seeing her again, and lovely to know that she was even nicer than he remembered. He would have liked to talk to her on the flight if Niall hadn’t hogged her for half of it, and the other half she spent snoozing on the seat next to him.

She looked softer than she did the first time—swimming in a big gray hoodie with matching wide-legged sweatpants. Niall warned him that she wasn’t much of a flier so she might have some nerves, but she played it cool when she greeted him (still bashful, still unable to hold his gaze for longer than four seconds). Y/N stayed in the same hotel as them too, though her room wasn't an executive suite like the rest of the band. She was two floors below him (Harry knew this because Niall just about announced it as they all checked in).

They were due to perform tonight; their first show to kick off the tour. The pre-show stress sunk in when after a couple of hours where they all got to relax and catch up on sleep, they gathered backstage to prepare. The band went through their typical rehearsals, sound checks, mic checks, fittings, and whatnot—a routine he was very familiar with, having done this dozens of times before.

All while Y/N sat in the communal room, watching everything with big, curious eyes. Every now and then someone would check up on her—be it him or Niall or one of the crew—to see if she was doing okay, and she’d nod very excitedly. First timers backstage were always eager to learn and in awe of the gears that turned behind the final show; Harry thought it was adorable.

Ten minutes before they were due on stage, everyone naturally drifted towards the wings. While the band went over the setlist and the final cues with management, Harry caught sight of Y/N lingering just beyond them, watching with the same curiosity she'd had all afternoon. She smiled when she noticed him looking, and he returned it before turning his attention back to work. 

The four hours they spent on stage always went by in such a blur. It was a mixture of loud, ear-bleeding cheers, an expanse of signs with funny questions and quotes on it, phones pointed in their direction and interesting outfits someone could only wear to a concert such as this one. There were introductions before they started on their first song, and then gradually performed more upbeat and subtly promiscuous ones which had everyone roaring, making the stadium feel like it was vibrating beneath their feet. 

Every two or three songs, they'd pause to chat with the crowd, read signs, or pull someone into the spotlight. It was Harry's favourite part of the night. Anyone could sing songs on a stage, but these moments made the show feel personal. It was where strangers became people with stories—people who got engaged in the front row, celebrated birthdays, confessed their love, or cried through songs that had carried them through the hardest parts of their lives. 

The backstage crew often watched them perform from a small VIP area to the right of the pit. It gave them ample access to the entire stage, and at the very start Harry noticed a giddy Y/N in the small group of people keenly waiting for it to begin. Throughout the show his eyes found hers, and he smiled when he caught her singing along and dancing, cheering them on, chanting Niall’s name with the crowd when the boys dared him to do a handstand as a bit. 

Performing had always left him buzzing. The adrenaline settled into his veins long before he stepped onstage and refused to leave until hours after the encore. There was nothing quite like the feeling of tens of thousands of voices singing back every word, of feeding off a crowd's energy until it became your own. It made everything feel a little brighter, a little lighter—and, if he was being honest, a little bolder. 

As the show ended and they jogged off of the stage, sweaty yet still quite upbeat, a number of crew people swarmed them. Water bottles and towels were shoved their way while simultaneously someone worked on getting their mics and earpieces off of them. 

Y/N emerged from the hoard of people surrounding them. A small lump formed in his throat when she made a beeline for Niall and threw her arms around him without a second thought, not seeming to care that his grey T-shirt was damp. “Oh my god, you were fucking amazing, Ni!” She said, excitedly.

“Yeah? Glad you came?” Niall replied. He let his hands fall from her waist, “Fuck off you gloat! Had to show off and do a handstand too?” She teased. Harry didn’t mean to overhear—he couldn’t help himself when they were right next to him. “F’course I did.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Your need for attention should be studied.”

As if she had only just realised Harry was standing there too, she turned towards him, and the boy found himself oddly grateful to have her full attention. “Enjoy yourself?” He asked, twisting open a water bottle. A towel was thrown over his shoulder as they all walked towards the communal room where they’d be guided to the tour bus. 

She nodded enthusiastically, “That was one of the coolest things I've ever seen.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re so incredible.” Y/N said it so fucking sweetly and sincerely, Harry could have melted at the sight of her all in a tizzy in his presence—face tinged pink and eyes hazy. This little crush was getting out of hand, and he doesn’t know if he can manage himself any longer, “Keep saying things like that, n’I might fall in love,” He said with a playful lilt. The way her face warmed told him he’d gotten the reaction he was looking for, and Harry couldn’t help the small, satisfied grin that pulled at his lips.

She blinked. “Oh. I—”

“Oi! You’re bunking with me,” Niall called, snapping the moment abruptly in half. Y/N’s eyes darted back to Harry for the briefest moment before she turned to her ever-demanding best friend.

Usually, Harry wasn’t one to hold back from a little teasing, but there was something about watching Y/N lose her train of thought that made it dangerously fun. 

-

Getting high was both Y/N’s favorite thing in the world, and yet also the worst thing she could put herself through willingly.

The first hour was always the best. Her face would get warm, and everything was a little bit brighter; a little bit richer; a little bit funnier. Everything she heard sounded ten times nicer than it normally did and everything she ate was yummier. For Y/N, she got chatty when she was high—if someone was smoking with her, she’d yap with them for hours upon hours, topics ranging from the dumbest things she could conjure up, to deep, philosophical questions about the universe (which would no doubt send normal her into a midlife crisis if she thought about them too much).

In particular, she liked getting high with Niall, mainly because he matched her freak—like her, he was talkative and touchy, but for the most part he was fucking hungry. Somehow weed always made Niall starve like a Victorian child, so he’d drag her to get something to eat the moment they got through the first blunt. Plus, all senses were heightened in that state, and food just tasted so much better than it normally did when you have a slight buzz in your system.

Being high always called for messy, handheld food, like burgers, burritos, pizza etc, and Y/N was a sucker for a good meal and company, so who was she to say no to Niall when he whined at her to sneakily get takeout while everyone else settled down in the tour bus?

That’s how she found herself here—an hour after the show ended and Ben introduced the band to their tour bus, Niall pulled Y/N aside and took out a blunt from his back pocket—where he got it from, he refused to disclose, but he all but begged Y/N to smoke it with him before they got something to eat, “‘cause prancing around on stage hollowed out his stomach to no end.”

So, they zipped themselves up in hoodies, walked ten minutes down to the nearest Burger King and shared a joint in the carpark after placing a pickup order. They were there for a good two hours or so, just talking and eating, laughing at stupid things (an oddly shaped piece of lettuce in Niall’s sandwich that he believed looked like a horse) before they finally made their way back to the others.

It was a night well-spent; the concert was phenomenal, her burger altered her persona into a changed woman, and being with Niall was always easy. Y/N never had to worry about saying the wrong thing. She could be herself, which was something she valued more than she could put in words.

It was late into the night by now, so the bus was silent as they entered it. Y/N got a lot of perks being Niall’s best friend, including (but not limited to) riding in the private jet, sleeping on his bus and getting to stay in the same hotels as him. Hence, it was natural for her to bunk right below his own; a tight space which could barely fit two people (not that Y/N was planning on testing that theory out). She had a little pillow and blanket, and a small space to put her little overnight pouch which had her essentials in it.

After bidding her very sleepy best friend goodnight (another side effect of High Niall™), Y/N climbed into her own bed. 

Now that was when the worst parts of getting high kicked in, and her system went into overdrive. 

Unfortunately for Y/N, she wasn’t blessed with the ‘sleepy when high’ gene like Niall. For her, along with the basic five senses that were heightened, another more dangerous one took control of her conscience.

Y/N was fucking horny.

She sort of expected this to happen though—it usually kicked in about three-ish hours after smoking, and her thoughts would always drift somewhere filthy.

As someone who was generally in control of her feelings (she liked to believe this to be true), this was very risky territory. It was especially worse because this time, to her detriment, there was a certain someone on her mind too…

It wouldn’t take an expert to deduce that Y/N had garnered a real crush on Harry in the very short time she’s known him. Maybe it was because she had a bit of a liking towards him from the very start. Or maybe it was because he looked at her like that—an impish glint in his eye, a smirk on his pretty lips. The way he talked to her probably played a part as well; teasing, and constantly saying things that caught her off guard and made her flush beneath his gaze.

She hated playing the role of the shy damsel, but it was hard to conjure real, coherent thoughts when he was around. Her brain just couldn’t get used to the fact that he was there, and he was going to be there for all the shows, constantly around her, essentially living with her. And he had the fucking nerve to call her pretty to her face, threaten her that he’d fall in love with her if she complimented him again, made her feel all sorts of things—all while being on stage and dancing so wantonly—grinding into the mic, literally grabbing his bulge, smiling cheekily as he sang about sex cleverly disguised as a sweet something.

Y/N huffed an annoyed breath. Not only were her thoughts getting more and more sultry as the night went on, the little space she was in felt like it was closing in on her. Even though she was only in a cotton shirt and a pair of lounge shorts, she was too hot to be in here for even a second longer. Trying to make as less noise as possible, Y/N gently slipped out of her bunk and grabbed the small bullet vibrator tucked into her essential pouch just in case.

She was horny and it was getting out of hand—if she didn’t do something about it, she might genuinely go crazy. Also, from what she could see, everyone was still asleep; the bus was eerily quiet. Surely if anything did happen, she’d be able to get away with a little white lie or something (“No, this isn’t a vibrator, silly! Just chapstick!”).

The lighting was switched to red, matching the leather of the couch as she stepped into the big, makeshift living room. Seats lined the sides of the bus in a ‘u’ shape, looking a thousand times more comfortable than her bunk. A massive flatscreen adorned the wall adjacent to it, and a black curtain was there to separate the area from the rest of the bus if needed.

Y/N pulled it shut and flopped down on the couch. Instantly the cool leather felt amazing against her flushed skin. In fact, it felt so good, a little moan left her lips. Sensation was a big thing for her when she was riding her high, so any small thing that touched her that felt even minimally good, was instantly great. 

What would be even greater, though, is a body next to her, maybe—hands sliding all over her, touching, teasing. Someone whispering in her ear, telling her how nice she felt, what they wanted to do to her. He’d kiss her too—and it’d be the best kiss of her life, actually, ‘cause he had soft-looking lips and a sinful tongue that would loop around hers and trace down her neck, and she’d perhaps feel his curls beneath her fingers; gripping a bit tightly, but she thinks he might like that.

Before she knew it, her vibrator was buzzing and she was pulling her shorts down her legs. Fuck, she knew she was taking a huge gamble, but it sort of added to the thrill. It was also way past midnight and no one was awake, so maybe she’d be fine?

All those worries left her head at the first passing of the vibrator over her aching clit. She was already soaked, given she was thinking about this for so long now. Because of this, the device slipped and slided over her pussy as she liked, and her thoughts (sadly) drifted back to Harry. More specifically, his fucking big hands that could rival the size of her face. She thinks maybe if he tried to choke her, he’d be able to cover the whole expanse of her neck. And if he fucked her with his fingers—shit, they’d reach places she never could on her own.

Would he leave his rings on or off, though? She’d like feeling them against her, YN thinks—a coolness against her leaky hole that’d make her arch and moan, scream his nam—

“What’s this?”

Y/N jumped and yelped, opening her eyes to find a very sleepy (a very real) Harry standing at the edge of the room, by the curtain. Her eyes flew open and her face probably resembled a tomato as she stuttered over her words, “Fuck, I—I was just, umm… I couldn’t,” She breathed deep, still holding her vibrator, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you were touching yourself to me?” Harry hummed. He looked eerily calm for someone who just caught another pleasing themselves to the thought of him—fuck, was she being loud? She probably moaned his name like the idiot she w—

“Y/N?” He repeated and took a step closer. He wore a plain black shirt and plaid pants slung lazily over his hips. “I… yes,” Y/N replied. Slowly, she shut her legs, vibrator clutched tightly in her hands. Lying was probably not the smartest thing to do in this situation, hence why she stuck with the honest version of events—if she did cry his name unknowingly, lying about it would make things more awkward than they already were.

Harry took another step closer, “What were you thinking about?” His voice was heavy with sleep—a slow and deep timbre that sent shivers down her spine. Y/N hesitated. Her thighs pressed hard against each other when he came nearer, now right by where she was sprawled on the couch, “I’m sorry, I thought everyone was asleep.”

“Not what I asked,” He rested his index finger on her knee, circling once before trailing down her calf, “What were you thinking about, Y/N?” Her breath caught in her throat as Harry took a seat by her feet; if she parted her legs, he’d be tucked right where she was imagining him mere minutes ago.

“Just um… about you.” A warm hand wrapped around her calf, rubbing up and down soothingly. “What about me?” Harry held unwavering eye-contact with the girl—the kind that made her heart flutter and pussy throb at the same time. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was asking because he was disgusted or if he was enjoying this. He was always so forward and always teasing her, so maybe this was going to become another anecdote he’d reference just to toy with her? Yet somehow, she wanted more.

“Your… your fingers,” She swallowed the lump in her throat. At the same time, Harry used his other hand to push her thighs apart, “S’this okay?” He asked her softly. Y/N realised he was asking for her consent to do anything further, and the idea of that made her so incredibly giddy, she hoped she didn’t appear too over-eager when she nodded ‘yes.’

As soon as she did, Harry leaned in and kissed her right knee, “Yeah? Don’t stop on my account.” His hand found hers, the one which was holding her vibrator, and he pressed the little button at the end that brought it to life. Slowly, he used his grip to guide her hand down to her pussy, positioning the toy where she needed it most. Immediately, a soft moan left her lips.

“Naughty minx,” He hummed, pushing his hand so the vibrator throbbed against her clit, hard, “Did you want this to happen? Wanted me to find you here, all needy for my fingers and touching this slutty pussy?” Y/N could only arch her back, crying out a whiney “yes.” No other thoughts were capable of forming in her muddled brain when he continued to move her hand with his, “Already dripping,” Harry tsked. 

He used his fingers to gather her arousal that dripped down to her ass and spread it over her folds as Y/N’s thighs threatened to shut around his body. The feel of his hands on her body was so much nicer than she’d pictured—Y/N was half convinced she was dreaming and her fucked-out mind was living this fantasy she created in her head.

But she was brought back down to earth when Harry suddenly removed the vibrator from her clit, bringing it down to her hole. Now this was something Y/N’d never experienced ever in her fucking life. Her vibrator was barely longer than her finger, but it hit places she’s never felt before when he shoved it deep into her pussy on the lowest setting. She mewled loudly and her back left the sticky couch in a big arch. 

Harry came up and hovered over her body, using his free hand to put his middle and ring finger in her mouth. Both her holes were full as he fucked her lips as well as her pussy, shushing softly, “Don’t want to wake anyone else up, hmm?” He reminded her, stroking her tongue. Y/N could feel herself leaking, and she knows if she checked, she’d be a mess down there. Harry appeared to like it, though, as he cooed, “So fucking wet, Y/N,” He used his thumb to circle her engorged clit while at the same time grinded the toy inside of her.

Y/N was close, and she struggled to keep her body still, writhing underneath him. She had to bite down on his knuckles to hold back her sounds, but Harry didn’t seem to mind—enjoying the way her pussy squelched and wetness pooled around his fingers. “G’na come, g’na come,” She muttered around his fingers, a tad unintelligible. Harry understood, speeding up his pace, “So good, you’re so good, Y/N. Such a pretty girl—come for me,” He encouraged. 

Before long, she was coming around the toy which Harry continued to thrust inside of her, his thumb never letting up on her clit. Her body bent into an impossible position as her chest pushed into his, her thighs tightened and her jaw loosened. When his fingers came out of her mouth, they were spit slicked, however he paid it no mind when he continued to help her ride her orgasm. Her body was on fire—a feeling she hadn’t felt before, ever; coming over her body like a scalding bolt of lightning.

It took her a minute to finally come down, “You’re okay?” Harry asked her as she relaxed beneath him. Apparently she wanted more, because she nodded eagerly and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer, “Yeah, yes. Fuck me, please?” She asked him. Her lips were wet and bitten red; her sensitive pussy rubbing against the fabric of his pants, “Y’sure?” Harry didn’t want her to feel pressured into anything, so he made sure to ask, just in ca—

“Yes, Harry please. Been wanting it for so long, been thinking about this ever since the bar,” Post-orgasm Y/N apparently had no self control over her words, because she was saying things rational Y/N wouldn’t even dream of. Harry was more than pleased, though, helping her take his pants off, “Yeah? Fuck—me too, baby,” He whined. Y/N stuck her hands beneath his shirt, squeezing his pecs and running her hands over his tummy, “Perfect pussy,” He muttered. 

His cock sprung free since he decided to forgo boxers that night, and he wasted no time teasing her as he rubbed it up and down her slit. Y/N slid a hand into his hair and pulled, “Please, I need it.” She was so wet that his cock was soaking instantly, yet Harry didn’t slide in—taking his time circling her clit with his tip, tightly. Y/N had to bite her knuckle to muffle her sounds, her own hips coming up to grind against his dick. She could come just from this, she’s convinced, and Harry didn’t let up until she was panting, almost ready to let go when he suddenly plunged into her.

He was big—that was obvious in the way he nestled right against her g-spot after the first push. Y/N felt tears prickle her eyes—he was so deep, she could almost feel him in her belly, “S’it hurt?” Harry asked, kissing her forehead tenderly. Y/N nodded ‘no’, “Uh-uh. Good. You’re—fuck—you’re so big, Harry,” She whimpered.

Harry rolled his hips slowly, “Oh yeah? Too big for this little pussy?” This was punctuated with a full thrust, where he pulled out until his tip rested against her hole, and slammed into her again. A tear slipped down her cheek, “You can take it,” He kissed the damp spot on her face, continuing a steady pace with his hips that had her toes curling and punched small sounds from her throat. 

A massive hand came to adjust her thighs better over his hips and the position opened her up for him further. Y/N could feel him everywhere; in her tummy, where he nudged against her nerves over and over again; rubbing incessant circles over her abused clit; squeezing her thighs, sliding down to her ass; wet, hot kisses against her neck that made her dig her nails into his back.

The second orgasm always arrived faster, and Harry must’ve noticed this, because he resorted to grinding into her pussy instead, making sure he was stimulating her clit inside and out. A thumb hooked into her mouth to keep her quiet. When he leaned back and spat where their bodies connected, Y/N felt the last string snap and she came again. 

The small pit forming in her stomach snowballed into something spectacular; bursting when he flicked her clit beneath his thumb, and red, hot energy sizzled in her veins. Y/N saw fucking stars around his cock which was nothing short of magic in that moment while she struggled to maintain herself, panting—gasping, as she came down and Harry slipped out to release on her stomach. 

He groaned into her ear and buried his face in her neck to hide the sounds he made, but it made Y/N shudder; her whole body vibrating with his voice. Harry came quite a bit. Some landing on her stomach, where he aimed mainly, and some coming all the way up to her breasts. A few minutes they stayed like that—Harry spent, lying on top of her, both of them collecting themselves and catching their breath.

A moment later he emerged from her neck, a lazy smile on his face, “So,” He started, a playful glint in his eyes, “Been thinking about this since the bar?” 

Y/N blushed, pushing her palm into his annoying face, “Shut up.”

Harry giggled quietly, completely unfazed, “Heeey. You’re the one who was thinking about me.”

“I hate you,” She lied, still unable to hold his gaze after all this time.

“No you don’t, you liar.”

-

The following night they performed their second show in Brisbane.

The crowd sang for Harry—chanting his name, cheering him on, some fainting when he waved and blew them a kiss. But Y/N watched with a knowing smile on her lips—they could have the music, the performances, the version of him that belonged to everyone else.

But only she got the one that came after.

And maybe that was the best part. 

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Ko-fi <3

Part 1: Here

Part 2: Here

Part 3: Here

Part 4: Here