Crystal

It was like she put herself in a timeout.

She was being too mean, and she needed to remove herself from being around Harry for a little while (just an evening). She was certain he was going to break up with her or fire her. Either one was bad, but she wouldn’t blame him if he did either of those things because she hadn’t been acting like herself.

It felt like a whole new kind of cranky. Like she was never going to be not cranky ever again. She couldn’t get out of it, kind of cranky. It was most definitely the stress from work and making sure that all her ducks were in a row. It was exhausting and she was worried she wasn’t even worth the promotion Niall and Harry gave her.

Unfortunately, she was taking all her anger and frustration out on Harry too. Fortunately, just at home. If she was cranky at work, she let it simmer and build inside her until she got home where she was simply not good company.

Harry took it in stride. When she confessed to Niall and Louis that she felt like she was being an absolute bitch, they reminded her (very excitedly) that Harry was often a dick under duress, and it was about time he got a taste of his own medicine.

But Harry was so sweet and good to her. He offered to help her with whatever she needed at home or at work whether she was a grump or not. Almost like he didn’t mind. But she could see the slight heartbreak on his face every time she yelled or got mad at him.

I’m going to see Louis She texted as she exited Styles Inc.

Alright, let me know when you’re on your way home. I’ll keep dinner warm. I love you xx

She didn’t even respond and she knew it was criminal not to. 

He was too sweet and it made her crankier that she was being so mean and he just didn’t deserve it. Maybe if she was gone for a few hours, he would pack all her stuff and kick her out. That’s what she deserved. Not the sweet man who was going to keep dinner warm for her and just let him be an emotional punching bag.

At least now she understood how he got his reputation for all those years. No wonder incompetency pissed him off. She wanted to set her office on fire some days over the last few weeks. It was a miracle that anything got done with the level of stupidity she dealt with daily. It wasn’t fair to anyone. Maybe if she wasn’t so stressed, she would have been in a teaching or guiding mood to help employees and interns.

Why couldn’t they just read her mind? It wasn’t that fucking hard.

“Are you alright?” Louis asked, staring at her beside him on the sofa. He had a movie that they’d both already seen a hundred times in hopes it would comfort her and make her less bite-someone’s-head-off-y. She flicked her eyes to him and huffed. He looked away briefly, his eyes opening a little wider. “Did Harry mess up?”

“Would you just stop with the Harry’s-the-enemy bit? He’s perfect. Leave him alone,” she grumbled.

Louis’ eyebrows pinched together and he took his phone out and tapped a few times. He cleared his throat and read a text he received from her yesterday. “Harry is chewing gum SO loudly. I want to rip it out of his mouth and shove it in my ear so I don’t have to hear it.”

Well, it was loud. She even told him it was and made him spit it out shortly after that text. So at least she didn’t reach into his mouth and take it. She wasn’t insane.

That insane. 

Hearing the text back though did register something in her and she was glad Louis was there because he was pretty good at knowing what was wrong with her so maybe he could figure it out. “Something’s wrong with me,” she groaned and rubbed her temples. “I’ve never been so angry and stressed in my whole life, Louis. What is wrong with me?”

“It’s a new job, love. It’s a lot more stress being a boss. Look at Harry.”

“Stop bringing him up.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. I mean… he gets like this too, right? You and Niall are practically prepared for it. You set your clock to it, for God’s sake,” he reminded her. It made her feel the slightest bit better that she wasn’t totally insane. “You haven’t fired anyone… yet,” Louis continued.

She rolled her eyes and slumped further into his couch cushions enjoying the softness like a cloud cradle. Maybe she just needed to be away from him for a little while longer so she could miss him. Maybe she would stay the night. But that would worry him. But that was stupid that he would be worried. How could he ever think she would leave him? She loved him so much. He was so gentle with her. Even when she was being a massive bitch.

He spit his gum out the moment she asked. Didn’t even question why she was so cranky. Just continued working and only looking at her for a moment longer (mainly so he wouldn’t set her off for staring. That had happened a few times recently). “I don’t want to be mean to him. He’s my favorite person.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, shut up, Louis. You know what I mean,” she grumbled.

Louis blinked at her and shook his head.

“What?”

“Nothing, you’re just really feisty with everyone. Even me. Even Eleanor… It’s like you’re… it’s like you’re hormonal or something. Maybe you should go to the doctor. Or see a therapist or something.”

She gasped the moment he said the word hormonal. Louis’s eyebrows jumped sharply up his forehead and his lips rolled into his mouth to keep from speaking further. He waited for her to berate him for suggesting she was hormonal in the first place. It was a rookie mistake. It was perhaps the number one thing not to say to a woman. If she punched him, he knew he deserved it.

Her jaw dropped.

“Oh, shit,” she jumped up and went to the kitchen where Eleanor had a pretty, colorful white board calendar attached to their fridge. She started counting backwards. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she shook her head and rushed to the bathroom. Immediately she knelt in front of their vanity and dug through the drawers and the cabinet beneath the sink. “You guys have never had a pregnancy scare?” She was tearing through every carefully organized box that Eleanor had situated. Maybe Eleanor would yell at her the way she deserved. “I need a test!”

“Do you and Harry keep them?” He rolled his eyes. “Why the fuck would we just have pregnancy tests?”

“For this reason!” She shrieked and covered her face. It made so much sense. There were too many days between now and her last period. She probably didn’t even need the test at all. It all made sense. The anger, the exhaustion, the irritability over silly little things.

“I’ll have El get one on her way home,” he said, texting her immediately.

“Louis,” she brought a hand to her mouth. “I can’t have a baby,” she whispered.

“Why not?” He asked. “You love babies. So does Harry.”

“But…” she sniffled. “I’m so angry.”

“Probably because of the baby growing in you,” he rolled his eyes.

“Louis,” a few tears rolled down her cheeks. How she didn’t know for this long was embarrassing. The fluctuation in her moods, the tiredness, the cravings she had for chocolate…

“Babe,” he smiled excitedly. “You’re gonna have a baby,” he cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “I’m so happy for you,” he pulled her close to rub her back while she sniveled into his shoulder. “You’re going to be the best mum,” he assured her. “It’s just the hormones. It’s just for a little while,” he promised.

“But—”

“No,” he shook his head, pushed her back so he could brush her tears away again. He looked at her with a gentle expression and smiled sweetly at her. “This isn’t you,” he promised. “It’s your little alien taking over your brain,” he grinned. “Glad I figured it out.”

She snorted and rubbed her hand across one eye. “You really think I’m going to be a good mom? I don’t have… a great example.”

“You will be,” he nodded. “I know it. And I will be the best uncle. Which is most important. I’ll fight Niall about it,” he winked.

“When will El be home?” She asked quietly.

“A half hour.”

She sucked her lip into her mouth. “I probably don’t even need the test,” she whispered.

“I know, but it’ll be good evidence for when you tell Harry.”

She nodded. “Okay,” she sighed deeply. “Let’s go look at baby things until she gets here.”

“Now you’re talking.”

*

Harry tapped his foot impatiently waiting for her text to say she was on her way home. Every minute that crept on made him more anxious. It felt like everything he did was wrong. He couldn’t ask her what was wrong. He felt very stuck that he couldn’t fix it.

Dinner wasn’t going to get cold, but he was really hoping she would have at least talked to him by now.

Harry sighed deeply and pressed her name in his recent call log. He closed his eyes as he put his phone to his ear knowing there was a very strong chance he was going to get yelled at. He knew it wasn’t her fault. She was stressed. Really stressed. It was a taste of his own medicine. Constantly making people nervous, miserable, scared for their jobs.

The only job he wanted was being her boyfriend and he was nearly ill about losing the position. “Hi, baby,” she said softly.

He blinked in surprise, pulled his phone away to check he called the right person. “Uh… hi kitten,” he mumbled. “M’jus… checking in. Should I put your dinner away?”

She was silent for a few seconds, and Harry seriously thought she was going to say she was never coming home. That the stress was too much and living with the person directly responsible for her stress was way too much.

“I’m outside, actually. On the swing.”

Harry’s heart pounded so hard he thought he was going to collapse. He glanced out the window and saw her lying on the bed swing. Her feet touching the porch gently pushing her. Her body was flat on the mattress, just her elbow bent to hold the phone to her ear.

Why didn’t she come in to say hi? How long had she been out there?

Harry genuinely didn’t want to go outside. It felt eerie. Like this was really it; he didn’t know if he could have her fall out of love on the porch swing where some of his most treasured moments with her happened. He put his phone on the counter and made sure all the knobs were turned off on the stove before he turned to the door.

He pushed the slider out of the way and stepped onto the porch. She didn’t move, just continued rocking her and the swing softly. The air was warm, crickets, bugs, and chirping birds were still around. It was a beautiful summer evening and he was terrified that his beautiful life he was so fortunate to have was just going to end in ten seconds.

“Kitten, I know you’ve been really stressed,” he started and knelt onto the mattress. It shifted under his weight. He cupped the side of her neck, and it felt almost painful to look at her like this. He almost couldn’t look into her pretty eyes. If this was it, he was going to torture himself by touching her the way he’d missed touching her so much. Her skin was so soft, and she was so unbelievably pretty in the golden sunset light. He started speaking because it was now or never and he had to plead his case. “I know I’ve been annoying you, and I know m’not your favorite person right now.”

“Harry—”

“No, I think this is karma for all the interns I terrified. This is awful though. I just…I’ll do anything. Can I please do something to make this better?” He asked. “I completely understand your stress and I know it’s hard and I want to help because you’ve always helped me—”

“Harry, you don’t understand,” her voice was very gentle, and Harry was grateful that at the very least she was going to be soft as she left him and not the hardened version of herself that he’d been worried about for the last several weeks.

“I do, kitten. I really, really understand and I can sleep in the guest room or I can hire you an intern—”

“Harry, baby—”

“—One that’s just like you so you can get all the help you deserve; anything to make this better.

“Harry—”

“—I feel awful that you’re so mad and sad and I do not regret giving you a promotion. I'm just worried you’re going to hate me and working with me even though it’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ll do anything, kitten. Literally anything to keep you—I could quit, if you want. I can start bringing you coffee in the afternoon—”

“I can’t drink coffee anymore,” she interrupted, finally.

That was actually almost worse than her breaking up with him. He blinked at her in surprise. She loved coffee. Why on earth…? “What?” She smiled briefly, her eyes watered and her lips pursed into a frown almost immediately after. “Kitten,” his heart was aching; like the muscle was begging his brain to make her pain stop. “What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor? Why can’t you—”

Harry couldn’t stop looking at her, so he didn’t see the way her fingers fiddled at her waist and pulled something from her pocket. He didn’t notice when she reached back up to put a positive pregnancy test in front of him.

He blinked a few times trying to make sense of what she was saying without saying it. He sat up and took her with him, so they swayed a little more on the swing with the shift. Harry grabbed the plastic from her hands and stared at the lines trying to understand faster, but his brain was mush. He thought she was going to leave him. Thought she was ill. Nothing made sense. “I owe you a massive apology for being so mean,” she whispered. “But if it’s any consolation, it wasn’t me. It was the baby. We’ll have to parent her for being so mean to you when she gets out here.”

“She?!” He croaked his hands shaking as he held the test in his hands begging his brain to understand faster.

“Oh,” she smiled and put a hand on the top of her stomach. “I don’t know, but I hope so.”

His eyes dropped to the way her hand gently rubbed her stomach, there was no bump or anything. But it didn’t matter. “Oh, thank God,” he sighed with relief and pulled her to him. He kissed the side of her head and squeezed her gently minding her body so he wouldn’t squish the baby.

She giggled. “I’m sorry, Harry. I really didn’t mean to be so mean—”

“No,” he shook his head. “Do not apologize,” he dropped the test behind her and then cupped her face. “I can’t believe I didn’t know,” he mumbled and then peppered kisses along her cheeks and then all over her face.

She smiled, blushed, and giggled again as he made a valiant effort to kiss every inch of her face. “I imagine I would have bit your head off if you asked if I was pregnant.”

He chuckled breathily over her skin and then worked down her neck to continue his kisses. He pushed her back down and dotted more kisses over her body until he got to her stomach. “You were very mean,” he whispered to her body. “I thought Mummy was going t’break up with me.”

“Harry Styles, don’t be ridiculous or I will be mad,” she rolled her eyes.

“Kitten,” he lifted his head to hover over her again. He smiled a real smile that he hadn’t felt spread across his face in weeks. “You are incredible.”

She smiled. “I love you.”

His heart felt healed almost instantly. He missed that phrase coming from her mouth the way it sounded then. Happy. He groaned, like he was in pain for so long and the relief was just too overwhelming. “Please, please, say it again.”

She laughed and pulled him by the neck to her mouth and kissed him hard. He moaned softly, realizing how much he was missing her soft lips on his. He melted into the kiss, traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Eventually he pulled away and she turned his head so she could speak into his ear. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he kissed her again. “And you,” he placed his hand on her stomach and brushed his thumb over her shirt. “Even if you were very mean to us,” he mumbled.

“I’ll forgive her; it’s gotta be hard being conceived in a shower.”

He chuckled, his cheeks burning a little hotter. “Kitten,” he smirked and pushed her hair behind her ear. Maybe it was his imagination, but she looked like she was truly glowing, and he thought she was beautiful, unearthly gorgeous since he saw her pictures, since he met her in person… but somehow, she looked even more beautiful and he didn’t know how it was possible. “Not in front of the baby.”

“Well, the baby is going to have to get used to that very quickly,” she warned, wrinkling her nose with a knowing smile as a blush crept to her cheeks as well.

Stunning. He thought to himself.

“Because now that I know why I was very angry, I think I have to make it up to you. A lot. Like maybe even right now.”

He smirked. “Kitten, you are doing the most incredible thing in the world and you’re sacrificing so much with your body and mind... Y’don’t have to do anything for me.”

She almost pondered about that for a minute. “Well, I won’t lie, it’s going to be for me too.”

He laughed. “Then you can have whatever you want, kitten.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “I guess you better feed us first,” she suggested.

“Excellent point,” he stood from the swing and then scooped her up in almost the same movement.

“You don’t have to carry me.”

“Oh, kitten. Y’went like a whole month and a half or so without me being crazy. Y’better get used to it.”

She smiled, pressed her head to his shoulder as he brought her back inside. She’d let him be insane for the night, he figured. “I think this is it, Harry. We’re stuck together for life now.”

“That’s exactly how I want it, kitten.”

--

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He hums, but it’s tired. Unable to respond with anything more than a grateful murmur of appreciation.

You know it’ll catch up to him tomorrow morning. Might even catch up to him in the car on the ride home. Hit him like a fucking freight train, and he’ll curl into your side and stay there.

He won’t ever have the words to express what’s happening in his heart. Won’t ever be able to wrap his head around the love and loss he feels.

The crowd is still cheering him on in the background. You can hear them singing as they walk out. Most of them are crying. You are, too. The energy in the space is overwhelming. Filled with kindness and sorrow and inspiration.

They’re going to miss him. And he’s going to think about them everyday.

Going to think about how to get back to them.

Everything he does from this point forward will be his offering to them. His need to be close to them. Every note on his piano, every lyric typed on his phone, every late night jam sesh.

It’s always for them. He needs to be with them as much as they need him to be.

His heart is theirs forevermore.

And he will spend the rest of his life offering it to them.

“Come on! I know what I’m doing.”

“No you don’t. You’re sloshed!” Harry laughed, watching you spin around in circles for whatever reason.

“I’m not sloshed… I’M IN LOVE.” You shouted to the universe, and also the unfortunate old couple that just happened to be walking past at the same time.

Before you could apologise, the old man spoke; “I remember when we were like that, Carla.”

You smiled warmly, looking from them to Harry. Harry was already smiling towards you, that spark still in his eyes for you even after 5 years together.

5 years together but only 2 days of being married.

Marriage was pretty happy so far.

“We still are.” The old woman smiled at her husband as they passed by.

You continued to walk off then, walking down the road you wanted to go down.

It was a very small and quaint alley, lots of balconies with hanging green baskets and drying clothes. You looked up at them as you passed by, your trainers padding along on the cobbled floor as you walked.

As you were in your own little world, you didn’t hear Harry sneak up on you until his arms were around your waist and lifting you up in the air to spin you around.

“Harry!” You laughed, your jaw hurting from smiling so much.

“Will you ever learn to listen to me?” He bit playfully onto your exposed shoulder, where the thin strap of your dress lay.

“Never!”

“Is that how marriage works? You being in charge?”

“Obviously.”

He safely set you on the ground and you brushed your dress-skirt down, before twirling around and throwing your arms around his neck.

“What?” He asked, smiling down at your happy face.

“I’m in charge.” You tried to say seriously, but you were too drunk to be in complete control of your face.

“Okay.” Harry gave in, kissing your forehead.

“No, I am. I really am.”

“I know.”

“That means I can control you to do loads of things for me.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Harry asked, even though he was ready to say yes to everything.

“Umm, buy me flowers every day.”

He kissed you then, “Done.”

“Okay,” You blushed, “Hmm. Come on beach walks with me every weekend - no matter how far from the coast we are.”

He kissed you again then, “Yup.”

“Uhh what about…”

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes to anything and everything. Boss me around all day everyday, I don’t care as long as you’re happy, my love.”

“I am. Very happy.”

You leaned up to kiss him properly then, showing him just how much you love him. You scrunched the small hair on the back of his neck and pulled him closer, moving in tandem with each other like you’d known each other a lifetime not only five years.

You pulled away first but quickly moved to kiss his jaw and leading down his neck, kissing and nipping at the skin to give him a hickey.

“Babe… No!” Harry laughed, knowing how much you loved giving him hickeys but never somewhere everyone could see.

“Nooooo.” You whined as he pulled your head away from his neck.

“Baby, you’re drunk and I’m drunk but I know we’re going to be mad at each other if you give me a public hickey. So be good and stop.”

You scrunched your face up in pretend anger.

“You’re annoying.” You kiss him on the lips once more.

“So are you.”

“That’s not very nice.” You feigned shock.

“Aww, are you sad?”

“Don’t taunt me.” You rolled your eyes.

“Lemme kiss you to make up for it.” Harry leaned in to kiss you but you shoved your hand on his face and pushed him away before he could.

You laughed as he pretended to be hurt by your action, but you ran off down the road before he could say or do anything.

He shook his head with a smile as he watched you go, nearly tripping over a cobble stone even in your flat shoes.

“Y/N/N, be careful.”

You stood at the end of the alley watching Harry still standing there with a fond smile.

“C’mon! I hear music.” You urged him.

So he came.

He wandered over to you casually, feeling like he had all the time in the world to spend with you. Every moment of his was now yours and he couldn’t be happier to share them all with you. You. He sometimes couldn’t believe he’d managed to end up with you.

You held out a hand for him and he took it, slinking his fingers through yours.

"I'm good, man. Thanks," Parker greeted, feeling infectiously happy at the moment, "How are you?" 

"I'm doing really well, thank you," Harry (maybe?) said, dimples in his cheeks, "Are y'looking for anything specific today?" 

Shrugging, Parker shook his head. "Not really, just wanted to look and see if I can find something new." 

Harry perked up at the sound of something new being in need, a dark curl falling over his forehead. "We got a bunch of second hand records in the other day. It's mostly older albums, but 'm sure there's something you'd like. Let me know if you want any help or have any questions." 

Typically, Parker wouldn't mind asking a few questions, especially about the more vintage artists and pressings around the shop, but his mind was still buried deep in his phone. "I will, man. Thanks." 

With that, Parker drifted between the shelves that marked out the aisles in the small shop. Huddled between a pair of shelves holding different records and elaborate displays with special edition pressings, he pulled his phone out once again. Annie's thread was still open, her two texts shining in a beautiful, shining, hopeful blue. 

ur going to v's tngiht right ? 

if u want we could go together :) 

He'd never seen a string of letters look so perfect. It was like he was reading poetry. 

His fingers held a tremor as he texted her back. He attempted to play it cool, but of course he wanted to go with her. He would have given anything to enter that party under the label of being together with Annie. 

Sure! I have to do some homework tonight, but I'll be heading over there at around eight. Does that work for you? 

Shooting off the message, Parker felt conflicted about staring and waiting for the messages to be read with another set of preemptive bubbles filling where her next message would be, or locking his phone and not being so desperate for a single text. 

When the receipts didn't immediately switch to show that it had been read with another time stamp, Parker forced himself to lock the screen and shove his phone back into his pocket. Around him, colorful records asked to steal his attention, to put him back on track and remind him why he came to the shop in the first place. 

It was his sister's birthday next week and he wanted to pick out a couple of records for her since their mom was gifting her a player as well. (And, there was an album or two Parker had been looking at that he really hoped the shop carried). Forcing his mind off of his phone, he took his time perusing through the shelfs for anything special he knew she liked before he would start looking through the crates for something vintage she could brag to her friends about. 

Across the space, the bell dinged again, another customer stopping by. 

Instead of the usual greeting Harry offered to all guests, Parker heard a giddy sigh of, "Sunshine!" ring from the head of the shop. 

Lifting his gaze from where he was examining a record cover laden with roses and glimmering gold font, he saw a woman with a beaming smile making her way towards the register area. A plastic takeaway bag hung from her elbow, her hair pulled back with her outfit consisting of a logo'd shirt and black pants. The logo was familiar, from a restaurant deeper in the plaza that had margaritas that were a little too strong but cheap enough it didn't matter. 

"Hi, Harry," she greeted, opening her arms as Harry met her halfway and reciprocated her hug. 

The plastic bag crinkled over his shoulder but neither of them paid the food any mind as they wrapped around each other. Quiet whispers were shared between them, Harry's curls creating a small curtain so Parker couldn't even see what kind of reaction these secrets pulled from the newcomer. 

Instead, Parker only got to hear the sound of her laugh as she drew away from the hug. He felt a bit bad as he kept watching, but even when they shared a small kiss, he couldn't pull his eyes away. 

Harry had mentioned more than once these small details about his wife, interjecting that she loved a certain album, or that she recommended something new to him that he was now letting others in on. Truthfully, with who Harry was—so eccentric, extroverted in an introverted way, and seemingly from a different time—Parker had imagined his wife to be completely different than to who was standing before him. 

This woman seemed... normal. 

Not that it was a bad thing, or that Harry wasn't, but she wasn't draped in lace and gauze with jewels and glitter following her every step. She looked like she belonged in this century. 

He turned his attention back to the record in his hand a split second before she would have caught his stare. Though there was a track list right before him, he didn't read a single word, feeling a bit flustered knowing he had just witnessed what was most likely a private moment between the two of them. 

Parker couldn't help the way his mind went back to Annie. 

Would she visit him during her lunch? Would they embrace like that, without a care? What kind of secrets would she share with him? 

He couldn't help the minute check he made to his phone screen. 

No new notifications. 

Folding his phone back into his pocket, Parker directed his focus back onto his shopping. Meandering back towards the crates, he started flicking through the alphabetized stacks. 

With only a quiet album playing on the shop's record player—something crackly and old he didn't recognize but didn't mind—, he could hear the murmurings of the couple now huddled behind the register counter together. Though he didn't mean to eavesdrop, he didn't particularly try hard not to either. 

Straining an ear, he heard their hushed conversation over the music and quiet rustling of the plastic bag. 

"I can come back later, or save this for dinner," the woman said, "I don't want you to get in trouble, honey." 

"'S fine, dove, really," Harry insisted, his smile audible, "I know him—he's really nice. He won't mind, I promise. If he needs my help, I'll help." 

"But, H—" she tried again, only to be abruptly cut off. 

Maybe it was the romance on his mind, but Parker wondered if the soft sound he heard was another quiet kiss they shared. Harry's tactic to get his wife to let go of the argument. 

"It'll be fine, I promise. I've missed you all day, I don't want you to leave already." 

A plume of laughter could be heard alongside the laying out of styrofoam containers. The scent of warm food drifted through the shop. Parker's stomach piqued at the smell, reminding him the last time he ate was during breakfast. 

Maybe Annie would want to stop and get some dinner before the party. Or go for a late night snack after. 

Harry's wife's laugh pulls him out of the possibilities he was beginning to churn before he'd even received a text back. 

"We spent all morning together before you came here," she countered, her tone a gentle tease. 

"So?" Harry argued, quietly serious under his own joking tone, "'S not enough, and I've told you that before." 

A beat passed, the rustling of the bag filling the moment. "Well, I only have forty-five minutes left of my lunch, so you better make the most of it." 

Another set of hushed conversation sounded, words too quiet for him to hear. Parker figured with the scolding Harry! that left the wife's lips, he didn't really want to hear what had made them go quiet anyway. 

A vibration from his back pocket had Parker practically scrambling to reach for his phone and get the screen to light up.

Annie had texted him back. 

sounds good (: 

if its isnt to late by the time we r leavig we should get food or something 

Parker's heart just about soared right out of his chest towards the record player, the beats wishing to play their own love song in Annie's name. 

They were going to get food or something tonight, just like he hoped. 

Was this love? 

I was thinking the same thing! I'll see if I can finish up any sooner than eight, but I'll let you know when I'm on my way:) 

 There was so much Parker needed to do. 

Now the priority wasn't the set of essays he was planning on editing before he got ready for Vera's. These plants were now shifted, urging him to skip cleaning his apartment and instead rushing home to do his work then agonize over getting ready for the remainder of the evening. The cowlick on the crown of his head that had his hair sticking in weird places after every shower was going to be his prime enemy today. 

Focusing on the records before him, Parker skimmed through before grabbing a Fleetwood Mac album his sister would either love or let become a statement piece about how much of an old soul she was. Turning back to the shelves he reached for a foiled album, the band's name one he recognized but only vaguely through his sister's Spotify. He wasn't familiar with the artwork, but hopefully this was a good one. 

These two would have to do for now. If he needed to find a third, he'd do it later. Annie was waiting for him (in six hours, but the urgency still mattered). 

Taking his tiny stack to the register, he saw the bubbly couple huddled together sharing a container of French fries with their own respective sandwiches. When the woman realized Parker was approaching, she startled in her spot, immediately moving to get their meal out of the way of the register. 

"Sorry, sorry," she said, covering her mouth as she swallowed down the bite she'd taken just as he emerged from the shelves. Harry watched with a fond quirk to his lips though he didn't make any move to assist her move. 

"'S alright, love," he attempted to soothe her. While Harry was always purely friendly and full of a kind and giving spirit, Parker had never heard his voice take on the notes it did now. This man was in love with his wife—everything she did was special to him. 

"I don't mind," Parker jumped in, settling his records on the clear area of the desk, "I get it." 

"See, (Y/N)?" Harry pointed out, though he did begin straightening up and tapping at the register keys, "I told you he was cool." 

The woman—(Y/N), the name said with a reverence—didn't pay Harry's argument any mind, continuing to move their boxes out of the way for Parker. Harry shook his head, his green eyes lighting up with every glance her way. 

"You find everything alright?" Harry asked, sliding the records towards the inlaid scanner on the desk. Before Parker had a chance to answer, he saw Harry's face light up when he spotted the Fleetwood Mac record. "I didn't know you listened to them! Is this your favorite album?" 

Holding up the beige cover, complete with a familiar woman in pointe shoes and an unfamiliar man at her side, Harry looked to him with expectant eyes. 

"Um, this is actually a gift for my sister," Parker explained, feeling a bit bashful now that he let down Harry. "It's her birthday next week, and my mom is getting her a record player. I don't really listen to older music." 

Casting his gaze down at the album cover, Harry pursed his lips. "I guess it did come out in '77—feels like it was only last year, I forget sometimes." 

Parker canted his head. That was one of those things about Harry that had him assuming he was meant to exist long before this time. It wasn't the first time he made a comment like that. 

"If she likes that album," (Y/N) piped up from where she had stepped back to lean against the back counter, "you should get her some Stevie Nicks albums. She'd love them." 

Harry perked up with a smile on his lips, though he stayed quiet as he typed a few numbers into the register before the total popped up on Parker's end. 

"She's the singer from Fleetwood Mac, right?" Parker asked, sliding his card into the reader, "I didn't know she had her own music." 

"She's the best," Harry interjected, his words a clear praise of his idol, "Even if your sister doesn't get into it, y'should still try it out. Y'won't regret it." 

Maybe Annie would like some of this kind of music. They could have a song if they found one they both liked.

The idea had Parker giddy once more, itching to head home and prepare for the night.

"I'll have to come back then and see what you recommend," Parker said, grabbing his carefully bagged records with the receipt tucked inside, "Thanks, Harry. It was nice to kind of meet you, by the way"—his eyes moving to Harry's wife—"He talks about you all the time." 

The smile that stretched along her features was like the sunshine her husband named her after—bright and eclipsing. 

Though they were small, the things Parker picked up between the two had his heart softening in places he didn't know could soften. A love like that must be consuming in the sweetest way.

Annie was all that was swirling through his mind. 

"He does?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes drifting towards her husband. He only shrugged in response, a bashful set to his features with blushing cheeks. 

"See you next time," Harry said, biting back his dimpled smile as he bid Parker goodbye. 

Tossing a wave over his shoulder, Parker drifted towards the door, his precious phone sliding into his hand on instinct. His heart jumped when he saw a text from Annie. 

perf ! excited to see u (: 

His heart rocketed into his throat at the small string of words. Just before he left the shop, Parker didn't think before he was looking over his shoulder and catching Harry pressing a loving kiss to his wife's lips. 

He wanted a love like that. Hopefully, that will start tonight. 

——————

A gentle smile took her features as she shrugged down at him. Harry only shook his head before he laid all of his attention out on her body, dotting kisses down the curves of her form as he moved her skirt to catch on her ankles. Helping her discard the garment, he flung it to join the pile already on the floor consisting of both of their shirts and her cardigan. He didn't waste a moment before settling his eyes on her near-bare form. 

Down to only her bra and underwear, she was a vision in his bedsheets. Her chest was nearly spilling out of her bra from the amount of times he had pushed the cups out of the way to kiss at the swells and leave his mark. Though, what had his attention captured and unwilling to let go, was the sight of her soft thighs spread apart and the pair of pearly, satin panties tucked between—completely mismatched to the rose toned cotton bra she had on. From where he was sitting, he could see a small wet spot decorating the underside, giving away just how eager she was to have him. 

His cock bloated in his pants, urging him forward with a near-drooling mouth. He'd never had his mouth between her thighs before, always a little too giddy to have his cock inside instead. Today could be the perfect day to take his time with her, get to know more of her body and what else he could do to make her float away for him. 

"So pretty, sweetheart," he murmured to her, fitting his hands on the soft curve of her waist, "Prettiest I've ever seen." 

He didn't have to look at her to know that she was biting back a smile, gazing at him with a pair of heart eyes that he never grew tired of. He focused on planting his lips to the soft of her stomach, just under the line of her bra before working his way down. His fingertips grazed the thin sides of her panties, attempting to work them down her spread thighs as he kissed down her body. 

It was when he started pulling down her underwear, hitting a bit of a lag with how drenched her center was that her panties clung to her form, that had Harry's breath catching. He couldn't wait to get his mouth on her.

Before he could get very far, only kissing down to her bellybutton, (Y/N) moved her hands from where they were on his shoulders to land on his cheeks. Her fingertips dipped into the curls on the sides of his head, her grip gentle as she directed him upwards. 

"Just want you," she told him, curling her body in order to meet him halfway and press her lips to his in a distracting kiss.

While he was a bit disappointed to have been pulled off track, he wasn't going to argue with her if this was one of her boundaries for the night. Instead of resuming his trek down her form, he settled on parting his lips just so and allowing her tongue to tangle with his. 

"Y'have me, pretty girl," he murmured into her mouth, helping pull her panties down before fitting his hips between her thighs. 

His disappointment didn't last very long, not when she could feel that wetness he had been craving now pressed against the ridge of his cock. He'd taste her another night.

—————

Throwing his head back, Harry felt a dreamy smile land on his lips as he breathed out a sigh. With his eyes shuttered, he sunk further into the couch cushions with his legs spread and his pretty girl on her knees before him. His hand in her hair tightened, clumsily ensuring no stray hairs impeded her vision. 

"God, sweetheart, gonna make me cum so hard," he groaned, forcing himself to peel his eyes open to get a look at her. 

With her hair pulled back, Harry could see every plane of her face, every shift of her features, and flutter of her lashes. There was a shine to her eyes that always appeared whenever she dropped to her knees for him, glimmering every time she looked up at him through the fan of her lashes. Her skin was warm, cheeks and chin slicked with her own salvia and his pearly precum. Her glossy lips were snug around his cock, only the barest remains of her glitter lipgloss having survived him pushing into her mouth. 

He couldn't help to moan at the sight of her, practically melting into the cushions. Widening the spread of his legs, he pushed her head down that much more with his grip on her hair. Just the very tip of her nose grazed the thatch of hair at his base. She gagged the smallest bit around him, throat contracting while tears collecting in her eyes like stars. Instinctively, Harry went to pull back, allow her space to breathe, but she stayed just where she was with her hands stationed on his thighs, nails digging into the plush skin. She paced her breathing and leveled herself out before she looked at him with her watery gaze. 

"So good, sweetheart, so good" he praised breathlessly, scratching his fingers at her scalp in a soothing run, "Doing so good for me. Y'like doing this for me?" 

With his mouth dropped in a gape and his breath coming out in puffs, Harry could only watch as she pulled off of him. His cock bobbed in her face, slick with her spit, a string of salvia connecting his tip to the pillow of her bottom lip. Her mouth was swollen as she looked up at him, her hands squeezing the flesh of his thighs as she shuffled forward—as if she couldn't be close enough then.

"I love it," she breathed, voice crackling, "I love making you feel good, H." 

Canting his head, the beginnings of a smile touched at his features. His hands in her hair were gentle as he directed her forward just enough to press her swollen lips to his cock. "I know, pretty. Y'always make me feel so good, y'don't even know." 

(Y/N) had the nerve to look up at him bashfully through the frame of her lashes as she puckered her lips against the head of his cock, kissing at him just like he taught. It was like watching his own personal performance the way she gave everything to him in order to make him happy. His own little movie star, he thought with a tense in his abdomen.

He watched as she dragged her tongue along the underside of his length, taking a moment to tongue at his balls like she knew he liked. She took him into her mouth as deep as she could all while he watched as her raptured audience. 

Seeing her face slick with his arousal and blissed out, there was a part of him that wanted to pull her from his cock and to fit his head between her own thighs instead. He hadn't been able to get the thought of going down on her out of his mind since he fantasized over that wet spot on her panties days ago. He wanted to be the one with a swollen pout and slick on his cheeks; he wanted to give everything he could to her, wrap his lips around her clit and dig his tongue inside her. The thought had his cock flexing in her mouth, a blurt of more precum seeping out. 

Maybe he could have both, he thought—he could have her on his face while she sucked his cock at the same time. His hands tightened in her hair at the thought, a moan of her name fell from his lips. He felt breathless when he tried to tell her as much, that he wanted to try something with her before he came. 

(Y/N) seemed to be spurred on by his actions, doing that much more to make him cum down her throat. Before he could warn her, heed her to stop now before he would be too spent to do anything special for her, she readied herself with her nails digging into his thighs, taking him further. He could feel the slide of her tongue over his shaft, the closing of her throat around his tip. Where she couldn't reach, her slick hands came to take care of him. 

"Sweetheart—shit—I—" he choked out, his eyes fluttering to a close despite how badly he wanted to watch her. His hand in her hair could do nothing more than tighten among the strands, every bit of his energy and attention being too spent on the coiling in his stomach.

It didn't take much for him to succumb to the pleasure she was giving, his balls drawing tight to his cock just before he felt the first spray of his cum down her throat. She gagged around him, the tight muscles drawing that much more of a reaction out of him. A melody of moans fell from his mouth, mixing with (Y/N)'s own rumbling ones he felt more than he heard. His thighs tensed on either side of her, his cum mixing with the slick saliva of her mouth. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there with his breath robbed from his lungs, flooding her mouth. By the time he had more on his mind other than how good the warmth of her mouth felt or how deeply he swore he was feeling his release, (Y/N) was doing nothing more than delicately sucking on the head of his cock, licking over his slit. 

With his eyes refocusing in the present, he could see the white remains of his cum on her tongue. The sight had his cock jumping in her hand. The reaction had a small smile decorating her face before she drew away completely, looking up at him with pride despite her disheveled appearance. 

"That was a lot," she quipped, her voice a bit stilted as she dropped her cheek to lay against the cuff of his knee. 

A plume of laughter fell from his lips as he shook his head at her. Raking his fingers through her hair, he rolled his lips between his teeth, still thinking about the fantasy that pushed him so direly over the edge despite knowing he didn't have the energy to execute it anymore (that was thirty-five for you). 

"It was, yeah," he smiled at her, curling down towards her until he was capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Jus' for you." 

"Thank you," she peeped, drawing another peal of laughter from him. 

"C'mere, pretty girl," he beckoned, drawing away just to welcome her onto his lap.

Careful of his softening cock, she settled on his lap with her thighs astride his hips. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into him with her eyes fluttering closed. 

"Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair, dropping a kiss to the crown. 

He could feel the smile blooming on her cheeks at his appreciation. "That's just as much for me as it is for you, honestly," she told him, amusement tinting her tone.

Though he was sure she was trying to get him to laugh with her, the implication had him rolling his neck until his head was thrown back against the back of the couch. His eyes shuttered as he recalled the unfulfilled vision of her sitting on his face with his mouth between her thighs. The idea made his cock ache.

God, he needed to eat her out—and soon.

—————

Harry couldn't tear his eyes off of (Y/N)'s body and the way the shimmering fabric of her dress clung to her form. The short hem fluttered around her thighs, shifting just enough as she stepped through her apartment to show off an extra inch of her skin for him to feast his eyes upon. His cock grew thick in his trousers, the fabric tightening as he attempted to keep his focus on the night's plans instead of making new ones. 

"I'm almost ready. I just need to do a couple more things," she prattled as she passed him by, feet still bare with only a single earring in and her hair half done. 

"Take your time," he told her, barely registering his own words as he swore he could spy the line of her panties through the fabric of her dress. He knitted his fingers together in his lap, a tactic used in hopes of keeping them to himself. 

It wasn't until she passed by his spot on the couch another pair of times, looking a touch more put together with her tiny dress fluttering around her body, that he lost his fight. She had her shoes of choice in hand when she padded by him, saying something about needing a couple of more minutes when he reached out and hooked his arm around her middle. She was stopped in her tracks, looking at him with wide eyes. 

"I'm almost done, I just n—"

"I know, I know," he told her, brushing her off in favor of dropping his hands to the soft give her thighs. "Just let me look at you a little. You've been running around, barely letting me see you before you're gone again—it's not fair." 

Sliding his hands up the hem of her dress, he could feel the goosebumps that pebbled over her skin. The length of his fingers hit the waist of her panties, digits hooking into the line.

Pushing her hand through his hair, she canted her head. "We're already running late, H. I think Tawny's gonna be mad." 

Harry shook his head, dropping a kiss to her plush thigh, his nose skimming the end of her dress. "She'll be fine. Jus' tell her I got sick and I can take care of you instead." 

Peering up at her, he waited for her permission before he would take down her panties and push her dress up. She was rolling her lips between her teeth, her hand in his hair pulsing. 

"We did that a couple of weeks ago, though," she murmured, an apology already swimming in her eyes. 

Shrugging, Harry flexed his fingers on her hips. "They won't notice." 

Releasing her glossy pout, (Y/N) offered him a soft smile before she started shooing his hands from underneath her dress. "You know they will. Let's just go, and we can leave early and come home. If you still want me, you can have me then." 

Harry relented then, drawing away from her core and dropping his hands to a more appropriate station on her legs. "Alright," he petulantly sighed, reveling in the small laugh she rewarded him with, "I suppose I can wait." 

"I'll make it worth your while," she promised, bending down to press her lips to his pouted ones with her hands cupping his jaw, "Let me finish and then we can go, honey." 

"I'll be here," he said, sending her off with a pat to her bottom as she bent to collect her shoes from the floor. 

He couldn't manage to tear his eyes from her as she padded back to her bedroom, folding his hands in his lap with his palms buzzing from her warmth.

—————

Harry's hand sat gently on (Y/N)'s thigh, his palm a cuff around the curve. Opposing his soft touch was the tick that had his jaw clenched shut. His throat bobbed every time he chanced a look at her from the corner of his eye. 

Tawny's get together had been just as eventful as Harry had figured. It was full of wine glasses, "homemade" snacks (she has never learned to throw away her takeout boxes), and bubbling chatter. He learned from Sarah that she and Mitch had started talking about the possibility of babies, Tom and Jenny were going away for a month-long trip to Greece later in the year, and Charlotte was planning on hosting an open mic night at her café (and pleaded with almost everyone to get them to come so it didn't completely flop). He had been little more than (Y/N)'s accessory at times, clasping her hand in his and dutifully following her around as she flounced about and talked to anyone and everyone. He wasn't much in the mood for socializing after shoving down his desires back at her apartment—he would much rather trail behind her, getting an eyeful of her ass and the sway of her hips. 

His mind hadn't drifted far from what he had been desperate to do before having to leave for Tawny's. He was eager to end the night; watching her and giving innocent touches to the small of her back or on her hand weren't enough. It was the worst when she had scooted by him when everyone had migrated to the couch, (Y/N) sidestepping around him as she used his shoulders to steady herself, leaving his face level with the soft of her tummy and just where he knew the line of her panties laid under her shimmering dress. He'd had to collect a throw blanket to drape over his lap afterwards, feigning a want to share with and warm (Y/N) when she settled at his side once again. 

As much as he loved his friends and seeing (Y/N) bubble and chatter among them, by the time the two hour mark approached on their stay, he was ready to get out of there. After a slew of too-long goodbyes and a suspicious glance from Mitch, Harry had his arm around (Y/N)'s waist as they made it out the door. 

That was how he found himself here, not paying enough attention to the road with his pants too tight for comfort. 

"Are you okay? You're being really quiet," (Y/N) murmured by the time they pulled up to her apartment complex, her hand came to rest atop his own. 

He could feel her eyes on him as he steered them towards his unofficial parking spot. "'M alright, sweetheart. Jus' really want to get y'inside." 

Whatever she saw in his darkened gaze had her own features softening, a giddy smile on her lips. "Really?" she chirped, attempting a discreet glance at his lap. 

His lips folded into a lopsided smile as he squeezed her thigh. He leaned across the console, leveling his gaze to hers with a brush of his nose against the bridge of her own. 

"As if you didn't know," he teased, quickly pressing his lips to hers in a deft kiss before he was releasing his hold with a pat to her leg, "Now, c'mon. 'M tired of waiting."

Harry felt a little too smug when she didn't immediately follow, stuck for a moment in her spot with her eyes blown wide. Rounding the bonnet of the car, he met her at her door before she had a chance to push it open. He helped her steady on the asphalt, the point of her heels teetering on the uneven surface. 

Hooking his arm around her waist, he escorted her up the open staircase leading to her apartment. With his mind occupied, thinking about the soft cotton of her panties he had felt up earlier in the night, the trek felt like nothing to him. (Y/N)'s fingers fumbled some as she unlocked her door, surely feeling the weight of his hand on her hip and the heat of his gaze tracing over her profile. 

Stepping over the threshold, (Y/N) turned to Harry as he locked the door behind them, her eyes bright and a bashful smile on her lips. 

"Let me take off my makeup, and ch—" 

Surging forward, Harry used his grip around her waist to press her back into the wall before sealing his lips to hers in an urgent kiss. He was sure she had an idea of what she thought he wanted tonight—another replay of her splayed out on his bed with her legs spread and his cock sinking inside her—but he had a different craving that he doubted she even realized. She melted into his kiss after a lag of surprise, her hands floating up to settle on either side of his jaw. The length of her nails caught on the baby hairs bordering his hairline. 

Parting his lips, Harry deepened the kiss with his tongue swiping out to draw a line along the seam of her mouth. (Y/N) didn't hesitate before matching his intensity, welcoming his tongue inside her mouth with a delicate moan. Slick sounds filled the entryway to her home, matching the parting and meeting of their lips over and over. He didn't care to be particularly composed as he doled out his affection, the twisting of their tongues messy and clumsy with how badly Harry wanted to put his mouth all over her. Every sigh she breathed in his mouth, every drag of her nails through his hair, every heave of her breasts against his chest had him crumbling that much more. 

Trailing his mouth down, smearing his kiss over the curve of her chin to the line of her jaw, Harry followed all the way down the column of her throat. The lower he went, dropping towards the neckline of her dress, he could feel how heated her skin was, chest heaving as she caught her breath through kiss-swollen, saliva-slicked lips. 

He dropped to his knees in front of her, feeling his pulse thrumming as he gazed up at her from his new position. A lopsided smile landed on his lips when he saw the way she looked down at him, instinctively reaching for the curls crowning his head, threading her fingers through the waves. 

"W-We can go to my bedroom, an—" 

Harry shook his head before she could finish. "We're going to stay right here, sweetheart." 

With that, he grabbed one of her ankles and shifted to kneel in front of her. He placed her heeled foot on his bent thigh, working his fingers into the clasp that held the strappy piece around her ankle. Peering up at her through his lashes, he could see how intensely he held her attention doing nothing more than a simple task he'd done for her plenty of times over. A bit of pride had him straightening his shoulders. 

He had her right where he wanted. 

Shucking her shoes off, sending her back to her original height, Harry didn't make any move to get up. Despite the way she tugged at his hair, urging him to stand up and continue with the mess of kisses they had started, Harry stayed right where he was. He could kiss her for the rest of the night if she wanted, but he needed to take care of this first. 

With how hard his cock was in his pants, a blurt of precum having wet the fabric of his briefs, diving between her thighs was going to be more for him than her.

Planting his mouth in a searing kiss on the plush of her thigh, he started a new expedition in adoring the rest of her body he had been so awful to ignore before. Goosebumps raised on her skin as he plucked his teeth against the soft skin. His palms skated up the curve of her legs, following the line of her form just as he had until he was edging under the hem of her dress. He dragged his lips over her thighs, never fully parting from the flesh before he pressed another languid kiss to her skin. 

"Harry," she sighed the call when she felt his nose skim the fluttering edge of her dress, lifting it up with another kiss being placed on the newly-bare skin. 

"Wanna take care of you, pretty girl," he murmured to her, his words dripping over her skin and down the length of her legs, "Always make me feel so good, want to do that for you now. Can I, sweetheart?" 

"A-Are you sure?" she asked, eyes softened and trained only on him. 

His hands plunged under her dress, landing on the waist of her underwear with his fingertips teasing the elastic. More of her thighs were put on display from the lifted fabric, but the front swath hung perfectly over her modesty, concealing her from his eyes despite his best efforts. Harry nosed at where her clit was nestled away out of his sight, feeling her hips tense under his hands. 

"Been thinking about it all week, pretty girl. I think 'm very sure," he grumbled against her, "Y'can't distract me this time." 

Her skin warmed, her pulse bubbling. "I just wasn't sure—you-you've never... before, so." 

Harry shook his head, a frown of disappointment settling on his lips as he gazed up at her. "That's no good, huh. Haven't been very fair of me to not take care of you and eat your pretty pussy out like you deserve—especially since you're always so sweet to me, darling." 

"It's okay," she told him, her bottom lip being plucked between her teeth, "I know you love me." 

Harry's features softened and molded into a tender smile. This time the kiss he dropped on the bare of her thigh was made of nothing but pure affection. "I do love you—very much. Can I show you how much?" 

The eager nod she gave him was the permission he needed before Harry was finally shucking her underwear down her legs. He helped her step out of the fabric before he unceremoniously stuffed them in his pocket. Settling as comfortably as he could on his knees, Harry flicked his gaze up to watch her reaction just before he pushed her dress up.

Her pussy glistened in the light, her lips puffy and soaked. Her fingers in his hair pulsed just before she widened her stance that much more, revealing more of herself to him. While it was far from the first time he'd seen all of her body, this moment felt more charged than any before. 

He truly did feel bad, hearing what she said. He didn't like that she had just assumed she was one of the many that didn't believe in going down on their girlfriend, that it was something he wouldn't even try with her. The assumption was far from the truth and something he planned on banning from her mind after tonight. 

Leaning forward, taking advantage of her spread legs, he planted his lips on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Can't believe I've never tasted you before, love. Y'look so sweet, you know that?" 

"M-Maybe," she answered, her voice a shaky whisper from above, the heat of her gaze following his movements. 

"Maybe?" he teased, skimming his lips that much higher before starting from the beginning on the opposite thigh, "Have you tasted yourself before, pretty?" 

Harry was sure that if he could reach her cheeks, he would have been able to feel the heat bubbling under her skin at his question. "Um, once or twice," she sheepishly admitted. 

His mouth broke into a grin at her admission. His briefs were going to be sporting quite the wet patch if she kept this up. 

"I don't blame you," he mumbled into her skin, reaching the softest part just a breath away from her pussy, "I don't know how y'keep your hands off all day long. I could spend hours right here, darling." 

Inhaling a heavy breath through his nose, he caught the scent of her arousal. He had a hard time dragging his eyelids open afterwards, sinking that much more into the moment. 

Closing that small, teasing distance, Harry offered himself some mercy and planted his lips directly onto her clit. It was a loving kiss, his lips puckered and giving just the way they would have been had he been kissing her mouth. A small yelp left (Y/N)'s lips at the contact, her muscles bunching under his palms. 

Peering up at her through the frame of his lashes, Harry pushed another budding kiss to her clit, this time watching the look on her face. He saw her eyes attempt to close, lashes kissing her cheekbones, with her mouth dropping into a small gape. A pinch appeared between her brows, the same way they always scrunched when she was attempting to concentrate on something. 

The thought had the very corner of his lips plucking into a slight smile. 

After planting a slew of kisses on her clit, feeling her pulse jump against him, Harry dropped his hands from her hips to slide around to the backs of her thighs. His palms cuffed the soft skin, fingertips denting into the gentle curve as he pushed her towards his face, angling her hips just so. Throwing one of her legs over his shoulder, her slit parted to match the splaying of her hips, revealing her flushed sensitivity. Her core was sticky wet, waiting for him. 

(Y/N)'s breath caught at the first spread of his tongue through her slit, matching the rumbling groan that came from his chest. Harry had to fight to keep his eyes from shuttering as he sunk into the moment—into the taste of her on his buds, into the feel of her weight on his shoulder, the pulsing slickness of her opening. Something deep in his stomach was quelled finally after getting his first taste, urging him to indulge more and more now that he finally had what he wanted right in his hands. His fingers pulsed around her thighs, keeping her steady on her feet and pussy presented for him to do as he pleased. 

The flat of his tongue slid through her slit over and over, collecting her wetness and reveling in the heady taste that was her before swallowing. The tip teased her hole, dipping in in hopes and catching more of her taste right from the source. He could feel (Y/N)'s toes curl behind his back, her heel pressing into his spine to urge him into giving more. He smiled around his ministrations as he zigzagged his tongue over her pussy before he focused back on her clit. 

Kissing at the bud, he spoke as best he could without lifting his mouth from her cunt. "Y'taste so good, pretty. Gonna need this every single day now that I've had you," he told her, unsure if this was just dirty talk at the moment. He could imagine a good life where he started every day between her thighs and ended it the same way. His cock jumped in his trousers at the thought. "Can y'give me that, sweetheart? Your pussy every day just for me to have?" 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she sounded, her voice a touch shaky as she braced herself with her grip on his shoulders. "Feels re-really good, H." 

Spurred on by her stuttered praise, Harry surged forward, replacing his lips with his tongue now laving over her clit. It was swollen between his lips as he gave placating sucks to the bud, (Y/N) letting out the softest mewls in response. With her thighs trembling under his hands, he dared to think that if he weren't there to prop her up or the wall offering her balance, she would have tumbled down. 

He wanted to give her something worth crumbling for. 

Diving down from her clit, he followed the split of her spread lips until he was tonguing at her opening. Her wetness had spread to the inside of her thighs, his cheeks, and now the tip of his nose as he wagged the flat of his tongue over her folds. It was just as he wanted her, a little messy, a little clumsy as she learned just how it felt to be taken care of by him. 

Pointing his tongue, he jutted his chin against her and thrust his tongue straight inside her pussy. Her fluttering walls clenched around him, welcoming him in as if this was his cock splitting her walls open. Above him, (Y/N) had gone silent. Peeking at her, he saw her jaw slack, eyes closed, and her chest shuddering with a stunted breath. If his mouth wasn't so busy, he wouldn't have been able to hold back the smug curl of his lips. 

Instead, he wriggled his tongue inside her, tracing along the ridges and curves he was so familiar with in another context. (Y/N)'s hands in his hair came alive then, tugging at his roots. He matched her intensity, stroking his tongue in and out of her hole while he used his grip on her thighs to bring her flush to his face. His cheeks were muffed by her warm thighs, chin soaked in her slick, and nose mushed against her clit. 

"H-Harry, fuck," (Y/N) cried, her voice thin, "I-I—oh my god—I—" 

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Harry asked, drawing away just enough to speak against her puffy folds. "I'll give it to you, jus' tell me what." 

She swallowed hard, throat bobbing as she fluttered her gaze to keep in the moment. "Fi-Fingers, please." 

He didn't bother to answer, instead giving into her want in a heartbeat. With the hand cupping the thigh sitting on his shoulder, Harry reached between her legs and stuffed his middle finger inside her fluttering walls. He thrusted through a handful of times before he added his index, (Y/N) keening at the addition with her head thumping against the wall. 

With her shimmery dress still covering her form, every heaving breath, every shudder of her spine, every tensing of her hips was highlighted in the faux-starlight. She was a dream above him, a sheen on her skin, hair pulled back from her face as if she knew he would want to catch every minute expression she made. His own breath came in ragged puffs, but he didn't care much as he attached his mouth to her clit once more. 

He drove his fingers inside her while he sucked her clit between his lips, giving those same laving licks and soft sucks that had her whimpering in the first place. Her hands in his hair were shocked into a tight, unwavering grip. Her thigh over his shoulder shifted until her calf was strapped across his back, urging him closer and closer, toes curling against the material of his shirt. 

He could do this all night, but he had a feeling (Y/N)'s expiration was coming soon. The telltale sign came in the scrunch of her nose, her eyes clamping shut before she forced them open in hopes of catching every detail. 

"Gonna cum for me, pretty?" he mouthed against her clit, feeling (Y/N)'s muscles bunch at the feeling of his voice vibrating around her. 

A small whine crawled its way out of her throat as she nodded, her mouth in nothing more than a gape. 

"Let me have it, sweetheart," he crooned, "Want you to cum on m'face so bad. Been all I could think about for the last week—don't disappoint me." 

There was that trigger he knew too well. She always wanted nothing more than to be the best for him—his best girl, his perfect love, his favorite everything—she would never disappoint him. (Could never, really, as far as Harry was concerned). 

All it took was a brush of Harry's fingers through her fluttering walls and particularly lingering suck of her clit before (Y/N) was crumbling above him. His name left her mouth as if in prayer, adoration and admiration soaking into the syllables. Her back arched from the wall, pushing her hips that much closer to his face. Harry didn't stop, feeling her walls pulse around his fingers, her clit pulsing between his lips. She grew especially wet, leaving him to lap it all up—just as he had wanted in his fantasies.

Aftershocks rained through her body as she came down, her muscles pulsing at every touch he gave her. It wasn't until she let out a particularly pathetic whine, her hands in his hair pushing him off, did he draw away from her. 

"Too much?" he asked, voice hoarse through his swollen lips. 

"Too much," she repeated in a watery voice. 

His mouth and cheeks were soaked, the tip of his nose and chin also glistening in the light. His hands slid down her form, fingers cramping from how tightly he held onto her. (He hoped he both did and didn't leave any bruises on her skin; he hated thinking about her in pain, but also appreciated the thought of his mark on her). 

While (Y/N) caught her breath, Harry helped ease her thigh from his shoulder, steadying her balance without his form propping her up. He fixed her dress despite there being no reason to hide after what they just did, smoothing the fabric over her hips in a soothing touch. 

"Y'alright, love?" he asked, feeling a little breathless himself as he checked in on her. 

"Yeah," she answered simply, her eyes having fluttered shut. 

Harry smiled at her, standing to the full of his height. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he started her towards her bedroom. "Let's get y'cleaned up, yeah?" 

"Yeah," she repeated. Harry's grin grew wider.

With her eyes hooded and movements lethargic, Harry guided her back to her bedroom. Flicking on the light, he deposited her on the edge of her bed. He watched with an affectionate smile as she flopped back into the mattress, arms falling above her head as she stretched out. 

He left her to her quiet soothing as he stepped into her bathroom. Picking a washcloth from her collection under the sink, he wet it before running it across his face to clean up her remaining wetness. Looking at himself in the mirror, Harry could only shake his head. 

His hair was a mess, raspberry lips tinted to that of a red-ripened strawberry. His cheeks were flushed, the blush reaching over the bridge of his nose and down the curve of his neck. Just as he thought, his cock was still impossibly hard in his pants, hiding a drenched spot on the front of his briefs where he had been leaking blurts of precum while tasting his girl. 

Taking the damp flannel, Harry reentered her room to see her just as he left her. She wordlessly opened her thighs for him when he took up a now familiar position on his knees in front of her. 

"Is it alright if I push up your dress again, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice a low croon in the quiet of her bedroom. "Jus' gonna clean you." 

"Okay," she answered simply, lifting her hips some as he pushed up the fluttery hem.

Harry made quick work of wiping up her arousal that had dripped to the inside of her thighs and his saliva that he had spread over her intimacy. When he touched her clit, hoping it would be so fast she wouldn't notice, he earned a small hiss, her legs recoiling to close around his hand. 

"Too much," she reminded him, a pout evident in her voice. 

"'M sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, compounding his words with a small kiss to the cuff of her knee, "Almost done, then we'll get ready for bed. You're tired, right?" 

"Yeah," she sighed. 

He didn't waste much time finishing up, signaling he was done with a swift kiss to her hip before standing to his full height. 

"I'll grab some clothes for y'to change into, then we'll cuddle up. Does that sound good?" he prattled, looking over her as she laid still stretched out. 

"Wait," she stopped him, reaching her arms out for him. Harry didn't hesitate before lacing his fingers between hers, though she didn't stop before she had tugged him into laying beside her on the bed. 

A plume of laughter fell from his lips, matching the dimpled smile molding his swollen lips. "What is it, huh?" 

Disentangling their fingers, (Y/N) instead reached out and looped her arms around his neck. Pulling him in for an innocent kiss, she nudged her nose against his. "Thank you." 

"Sweetheart, that was as much for me as it was for you. Trust me," he laughed, planting another one on her lips. Thinking back to her hesitancy before he had indulged in his fantasy, he kept her close, his expression sobering some. "But, I am sorry I made y'think I wasn't interested in doing anything like that with you. Obviously, that's far from the truth, I jus' never found the right moment, I guess. We always had something more important we wanted to do." 

(Y/N)'s lips plucked into a bashful smile, surely thinking of all the other "important" things they took care of in favor of spreading her thighs open with his head. 

"It's okay," she offered, looking at him with a flutter of her lashes as she dropped her eyes to his mouth, "I'm happy we cleared it up, though." 

"Me too," he murmured, tipping his chin and catching her mouth in another sweet kiss. 

This time (Y/N) deepened it just enough to get a taste of his tongue swiping over hers. There was no doubt she'd get a sample of what was tucked between her thighs, seeing as how Harry could still plainly taste her on his buds. 

"Are you sure you're ready to go to bed?" she asked once she pulled away, shuffling that much closer to him amidst the tufts of her duvet. 

"Did you have other plans?" Harry's gaze scanned over her features, not missing the way she flicked her gaze down, as if hoping she could catch a glimpse of his lap. 

"Well," she started, bright eyes meeting his, "I don't know if it'd be very fair if I was the only one that got to feel good tonight." Scooting closer, she was able to lift her leg to lay over his hip, his hard cock pressing into the inside of her thigh. 

"I think we could postpone sleep, right?" 

Landing his hand on her waist, he pushed her to lay on her back before he laid himself over her. 

She nodded up at him, attempting to bite back her smile. "I think that sounds way more fun."

It was the spark of giddy light in her eyes, the excitement hiding behind her shy smile, that had Harry's heart skipping a beat. 

Staying up with her was much more fun than dreaming.

—————

“Mumma!” The little shout was from down the hall. Almost immediately her eyes opened, the maternal instinct kicking in before the first syllable left her lips. Carefully, she pulled herself from under Harry’s arm.

Thunder was the culprit. She should have known but she was tired when Harry came to bed and didn’t even notice the loud storm. Frowning, she hurried the few rooms over to the bedroom, a pep in her step because she was a little worried it was something worse than fear of the storm. Opening the bedroom door, she sighed, leaning against the doorframe and putting all her weight on her good leg—because even though it had been over half a decade since the injury, it still ached in the rain. “Hey Miss Petal,” she whispered softly. “S’matter, Violet?” She crept across the room feeling worse by the moment as she adjusted to the darkness—only half-lit by a flower shaped nightlight plugged in along the back wall. How could she have slept through the storm that made the five-year-old so sad?

The little one was frowning too. Not quite crying, but she was definitely watery-eyed. “M’scared,” she pouted.

“Of what, my love?” She asked scooping her into her arms and tucking her little face into the crook of her neck. She was warm and a little sweaty from being so scared. She gently cupped the back of her head, smoothing down her soft brown curls that she got from her father. Her lips brushed along Violet's hairline comfortingly.

“The thunder, it’s loud,” she explained. Her little pout was all Harry. It seemed sinful for someone as pretty as her to frown. She felt the same way when Harry frowned too.

“I’m sorry, Vi,” she hummed and started down the hall back for the other bedroom. Of course, with an achy leg and a child on her hip, she limped back a little more than she did on the way to her room. “It’s okay though. The storm can’t hurt you,” she reminded her. “Daddy and I would never let anything hurt you,” she promised. She would first use herself as a shield, then Harry if necessary. But she was certain if anything came close to danger of harming their daughter, Harry wouldn’t let it near either of them.

“S’wrong, loves?” Harry mumbled sleepily rubbing his eye hearing them enter the bedroom again.

“We’re just a little rattled by thunder,” she explained, her knee touching the bed frame indicating she made it back to her oasis, ready to snuggle with Harry. She slipped back into bed and placed the pretty little girl between them in the middle of the mattress.

Immediately, Harry reached out for his daughter. She was warm, adorable, and a little shaky with anxiety from the storm. She was a carbon copy of the love of his life just one little body away from him. Already brilliant—a little inquisitive genius, obsessed with plants and flowers. A scientist in the making with the kindest heart Harry had ever seen for a five-year-old. “Aw, petal,” Harry kissed her temple and pulled her closer. The thunder very nearly shook the house making her stiffen in his arms. “S’nothing, Violet,” he promised.

Without the nightlight, she had to reach out and feel for Violet's little face. Her finger traced the shape of her eyebrows, brushed her soft, tear-damp lashes, and felt her pouting little lip on her daughter’s face. “It’s loud,” she whispered to Harry. He nodded understandingly against her little frame and pulled her closer to him, snuggling so she pressed up against his torso. With one arm beneath his pillow, it stretched across the bed and grasped for his wife’s hand. “Miss Wildflower,” Harry said softly. “D’you think Miss Petal needs t’hear a story?” He asked.

She twined her fingers loosely with Harry’s beneath the pillow facing the two loves of her life. She smiled into the darkness as the thunder thrummed around them. She inched forward on the mattress and draped her other arm across their bodies. The cocoon of the warm bed and Harry’s protective body was already making the little one very sleepy.

She glanced at the clock. It was a little after midnight. Still plenty of time to sleep. “What do you think, Miss Petal?” She asked.

Harry felt her nod against his chest. “Mumma’s boo-boo,” she said softly.

It was one of Harry’s least favorite stories. He hadn't heard her tell it once since Violet was born. “Not that one, Vi,” he nearly groaned.

“I’ll tell it,” she offered immediately.

“Kitten, honey,” he warned quietly.

“Shh, it’s late. Let me tell it so we can go to sleep.”

“Daddy doesn’t like that story, Mumma,” Violet explained a knowing tone in her voice.

“Is that so?” She asked, wishing she could see Harry’s facial expression. Having seen it a thousand times over, she knew it was that deep set frown that made her stomach hurt with the need to fix it. It was the same one he had when they visited Anne and Gemma for their first Christmas; agonized over a bad dream from one of the first nights they spent together in his childhood bedroom.

“He doesn’t know it,” Violet explained.

“Really?” She whispered in surprise a smirk toying at the corners of her mouth. It was dark, but Harry didn’t need to see her to know there was a smirk on her face. That same knowing one she wore on her lips the day he met her.

Oh, I get it. She had said to him leaning against the door frame of her flowery apartment. Send someone young so I relate to them. Someone that will understand my attitude.

“Maybe we should jus’ go t’sleep, Miss Petal,” Harry warned the little one with the same tone as he used with her mum.

“Not without a story, Daddy,” Violet pleaded. “Mumma will tell it, I always ask her to tell it since you don’t like it.”

Harry sighed, too tired to argue. “Alright.”

Violet rotated so her back was pressed to Harry’s body, caged beneath the arm that previously held his wife in place before the little one woke her. Harry wished he had heard her shout. When Violet came to bed with Harry, they didn’t team up against him and trick him into telling the bad story. Normally Harry left the room. But it was after midnight, and they were snuggled beneath a warm blanket. When he picked her up from her room and brought her back to sleep, Miss Wildflower usually remained asleep—even when Violet insisted on kissing Mumma on the cheek before cuddling into Harry and drifting off to dreamland.

Harry’s whole world was on that bed. There was no way he could leave then. Bad story or not.

She squeezed Harry’s hand reassuringly. “This is the abridged version, Vi. No tricks,” she whispered knowingly to her.

“What’s a bridge? Is there a new part?” She asked, excitement in her voice. With each retelling a new little detail was added—it was usually miniscule. Violet was still young. Truthfully, as much as she had joked about telling their future kids about it when it happened, she wasn’t sure she would ever want Violet to know Harry put a bullet in her—even if it was to protect her.

Many of the new details involved solidifying the clues she left behind for Harry to find and how he figured it out. Like a scavenger hunt. Violet had said when she heard about it. She loved to tell the story. Reliving the joy in Harry’s fearlessness even if he hated the story. She thought he was exceedingly brave, even if he didn’t feel that way. To her it showcased all the courageous and strong attributes Harry had and all the things he would always do to protect their little family.

The thunder cracked causing a little yelp to escape her throat. She snuggled further into her Dad’s body. Harry chuckled. “Means shorter story, petal,” he whispered kissing the back of her soft, wispy hair.

“Okay, Mumma,” she said softly with a frown in her voice.

“Once upon a time,” she began. “I was being babysat by a group of really awful people who didn’t like me.”

Harry snorted. “S’this how y’always start it?”

“Shh, Daddy,” Violet chided. “Except Uncle Niall and Daddy,” she completed the opening.

“Right, except Uncle Niall and Daddy," a brief pause. "I was really grumpy," she whispered to the little one. "They wouldn't let me do what I wanted to do."

"Because of the yucky protocols," he could feel Violet nod against him as if she was there whenever she said she hated protocol.

“Kitten, s'not fair,” Harry muttered in warning. The girls ignored him.

“After Daddy had been babysitting me for months and getting me out of trouble way more times than he ever thought he’d have to handle...we fell in love,” she leaned in and peppered Violet's face with little kisses. The little one giggled while Harry felt a flood of warmth take over his body. Harry liked that part. He smirked, remembering all the havoc and chaos that ensued during the first few months of his new job. Falling in love with her was the easiest thing in the world. “But then..." Harry felt nothing but dread replace the warmth he had previously felt. All the reasons he knew he hated this story were coming. "I overheard a conversation from someone that really didn’t like me,” her voice barely reached his ears she spoke so softly. “I had to tell Daddy to leave me alone so he wouldn’t get hurt.” Harry felt the same pang of hurt and anguish that pierced him the day Niall told him all about the letter she had sent. The one that led to the longest week of his life. That week included beating out the second longest week of his life when Miss Violet had the flu and he wanted nothing more than to rip the illness out of her body and put it in his own. “Daddy didn’t like that,” she whispered knowingly into the darkness. Harry was silent.

“Mumma said you cried, Daddy,” Violet's soft tone was hushed quietly.

“That was a secret, petal,” she reminded her back in another whisper.

“Oops,” she giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes ignoring the little exchange.

Even if it was adorable.

Plus, he did cry.

“The bad guys took me to a place to keep me hidden from Daddy. But Daddy is a really good detective, and he would never ever let me leave him for that long,” her voice was so solid. Even as a whisper. Harry felt his throat close around a lump of emotion. If he wanted to protest the story—which now he didn’t—he wouldn’t have been able to. “So Daddy found me,” she continued. “It was a really scary moment. But I knew Daddy would keep me safe. Do you remember how I knew?”

“Daddy wouldn’t let anything hurt you..." Violet responded immediately. It was practiced. Like a mantra. "He won't let anything hurt me either,” Violet nodded firmly. She already knew this part too. Harry twisted the diamond wedding ring on her left finger below the pillow and tried to push the emotion down, desperately trying to remember that this was the bad story. The one he hated to think about.

But he hadn’t heard her tell the story before.

She made it beautiful. Something so awful and something that broke his heart just to think about—she made it bloom into something wonderful.

It was very typical for his Miss Wildflower.

“I got a really bad boo-boo,” she reminded Violet. Harry squeezed her hand and tried not to think too much about it....even though every once in a while, (typically around the anniversary that he was sure he was the only one between the two of them who remembered), Harry still had nightmares of her losing all that blood in a puddle that made him feel nauseous and broken as if it was the day before.

“But, Daddy fixed it,” Violet sounded like she was telling a secret.

“He always does,” she answered.

Harry really thought he would cry now.

“That’s why Mumma has an owie on her leg, Daddy,” Violet whispered.

“Mmm,” as if Harry could forget. She squeezed his hand and smiled in the dark.

“It doesn’t hurt though,” she promised Violet—but Harry knew she was speaking to him and not their daughter.

“Except when it rains,” Harry mumbled bitterly.

“Daddy saved my life,” she ignored her husband's cranky tone. “Every single time I needed him,” the reminder wasn't for Violet, but for Harry. “So thunder?” she shook her head with nonchalant shrug that neither could see. “That’s nothing. Daddy would and could take on a whole storm for you.”

Harry squeezed her hand unable to form adequate words that he loved her so much for making the story sound like he was the hero when he still, very much did not feel like one.

“Finish the story, Mumma,” Violet yawned almost asleep.

“Daddy and I went to Grandma’s and Auntie Gem played with us. We celebrated Christmas and ate lots of yummy cookies. When I got all better we came home and lived happily ever after. Then baby Violet came along and made our lives even better. Now we tell stories together in the dark to keep the thunder away,” her voice got quieter and softer until Violet didn’t respond, her little breath coming out in soft little pants. “I love you, Harry Styles,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” Harry croaked.

She gave his hand a squeeze before drifting back to sleep.

*

It hadn’t rained in a week and while it was still fairly cold out, there wasn’t any rain in the forecast either. Yet she had been limping for over a week. It was nearly the holiday season, which, as lovely as it was, it was also the dreaded anniversary. It had Harry wondering if this was some brand of punishment he could never fully atone for.

Harry had left The Wildflower in the capable hands of his employees making Christmas flower arrangements for dinner parties and gifts in the form of lovely bouquets. She left her green pen and the stack of Bio-Chem exams on the kitchen table to take a break and spend time with Harry and Violet.

Christmas shopping; the goal was to find something for Grandma, Auntie Gem, and Uncle Niall. But someone kept finding presents that she wanted to ask Santa for...in a second list. Naturally, Santa had a hard time denying the little love of anything she wanted. She was certain Harry had already ordered everything on his phone as she pointed to items in windows and in shops.

Santa loved to spoil Miss Petal.

Harry and Violet were ahead of her on the sidewalk while she limped along. “Mumma,” Violet giggled. “You’re taking too long.”

“S’not very nice, petal,” Harry frowned. “Mumma’s leg hurts.”

“I’m okay,” she promised with a smile catching up. “Just moving slow.”

Harry looked her up and down admiring how beautiful and lovely she was, which made her skin warm every inch of her body. She was sure she flushed a dark red on her cheeks which Harry smirked despite the fact he was disappointed in himself for being the reason she was so hurt. “Is it your new tattoo, Mumma?”

Harry stopped in his tracks turning to the woman that not even his young self could have dreamed of if he had met her when they were young. “Mumma doesn’t have tattoos,” Harry murmured looking right at her as he spoke to Violet.

She smiled. “I was waiting till it healed, love bug, remember?”

Violet giggled. “Oops,” she smiled.

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged at Harry. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

It took every bit of self-control to remind himself that he wasn’t in his twenties. He was a parent with a five-year-old in front of him and he couldn't scoop her up off the sidewalk as he had done so many times on the very road and hurry back to the car to get her home and under her skirt.

*

Their imaginative little girl liked to play and didn’t mind playing alone. She would draw, color, and even read the same story books she had been practicing reading with Mumma and Daddy.

Which was particularly great right then. It allowed Harry to slide his wife’s long skirt up over her hips and examine the plastic wrapping around the circumference of her thigh. Harry felt emotion choke his vocal cords. He pressed his lips together and sniffed awkwardly. “S’that y’got there, kitten?” He asked.

“A garden,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hmm?” His fingers pressed gently around the plastic to get a better angle. He was accustomed to tattoos, knew how to take care of them and mind them so as not to irritate the fresh ones. “Miss Wildflower’s got a garden?” He asked, heart skipping beats as he scanned the array of little stick flowers lining her thigh. There were a dozen or so little flowers. But three prominent ones in the foreground. Most importantly, one flower from where the bullet had left a scar. Petals surrounding the circular mark.

“Remember when we helped Vi draw a flower garden?” She asked.

Harry nodded even though he had drawn so many pictures with Violet, he wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it exactly. Harry couldn’t move his gaze from her thigh. “Is that...my flower?” He whispered.

She smiled; a light, airy laugh fell from her beautiful lips. “Of course, it is, baby,” she whispered back.

He clenched his jaw trying to keep his emotions from bubbling over. He pressed his fingers lightly over the plastic, brushing softly on the scar that broke his heart each time he looked at it. Harry could hear Violet singing to herself—a song she made up about her dolls. His life was perfect. He had the most lovely daughter.

Perhaps he was the first man in history to have the perfect wife. Gorgeous, intelligent, a wonderful mother, the kindest soul, and the feistiest banter when needed. When he still felt crummy about hurting her, she made it better. Every single time. “I don’t know how m'supposed t'keep loving y’more and more, but y’always manage,” he murmured clearing his throat and cupping her face in his hands.

She smiled up at him, bringing her face closer to his brushing her nose against his. “This really handsome guy on my security detail way back when told me once that wildflowers grow and light up the side of the road even if it’s not a pretty road..." she started. "I didn't know you always left when I told that story," she whispered. "You can't possibly still feel guilty about it, baby. I've..." she shook her head. "You saved my life."

"I almost killed you—it would have killed me."

She smirked. "I have never thought this scar was ugly. But I know you hate it. So I hope you think the wildflowers brighten it for you. It glued us together. Brought us our little petal," she smiled listening to Violet's a verse begin louder than the first few about her new doll—a welcome to her toy box.

Harry felt his heart ache like something he hadn’t ever felt before. “I love you, Miss Wildflower.”

“I love you,” she giggled and leaned in to kiss him way deeper than she should have with an alert five-year-old in the room over.

But she couldn’t help it. With the love of her life attached to her lips there she couldn't bring herself to care at all.

--

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Bria plucked up at the question, her brown eyes sparkling in excitement. "Mhm! They called and confirmed yesterday with me, so I'll be in tomorrow morning, first thing!" 

"Are you going to be with the same guy that you had the consultation with?" Mikaela asked, picturing the long haired, heavily tattooed man she had seen when she went with Bria the first time to set up the initial appointment. She almost booked one for herself after seeing him; even the scowl and less than friendly demeanor couldn't detract from his... everything. 

Leaning across the table as if sharing a secret, Bria raised her eyebrows with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. "I hope. I might cancel, if not." 

Mikaela laughed along with her friend, knowing exactly where she was coming from. 

Piping up with a small smile on her features, (Y/N) asked, "Where are you going for your tattoo?" 

"It's not too far from here actually," Bria started, settling her chin in her hand as she spoke to (Y/N) at Mikaela's side. "It's called 17Black." 

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at the mention of the tattoo parlor in a way Mikaela had never seen before. Though she usually came to class fresh-faced and dewy, there was now a glimmer in her eyes that almost gave the illusion of glitter having fallen in her lashes.

"They're the best," she bubbled, her smile wide, "It's gonna turn out really, really good. You said you know who your artist is going to be?" 

"Yeah—um—hold on," Bria muttered, reaching into her bag, "I got his card last time I was in—I think he's the owner, or something." After a moment she pulled out a black and white business card, reading the name off: "Harry." 

Passing the card across the table, (Y/N) eagerly read over the stylized font and the glossy logo on the other side. "He's amazing—you're super lucky, Bria." 

(Y/N)'s smile wasn't one that could be shaken as she passed back the card. Mikaela thought she looked like she was proud, even. (Y/N) was always so reserved, seemingly more comfortable in the background and only chirping up when needed, Mikaela had never seen her so bright like this. 

"Have you been there before, (Y/N)?" she asked, trying to imagine someone like (Y/N) with any tattoos—especially done at a place like 17Black. 

Not that there was a specific kind of person that could have tattoos or that the parlor wasn't nice, but she had a hard time picturing (Y/N) with all her ribbons, pink sweaters, and shimmer flouncing into that building and getting a design inked into her skin. Especially by someone like Bria's artist; she was already shy enough, Mikaela doubted his scowls and curt tone would be anything of comfort.

That left her raising her brows in surprise when (Y/N) happily nodded her head. "Yeah! I only have one tattoo, but Harry did it and it's"—there was a moment something dreamy flashed over (Y/N)'s gaze then—"It's perfect." 

"I didn't know you had a tattoo," Bria interjected, her expression surely mirroring Mikaela's with her own perked brows and searching gaze as if they had both somehow missed an obvious marking. 

"It's really little," (Y/N) explained, settling some in her seat, "It's on my side, like, on my ribs, so people don't really see it." 

"I never pictured you with a tattoo," Mikaela added, "And especially on your ribs. You're brave." 

"Honestly," Bria started, bouncing full brows over her eyes "I don't know how you got through it, especially with him." 

A cinch appeared between (Y/N)'s brows. "What do you mean?" 

"You probably had to take your shirt off for the rib tattoo, right?" Bria prodded, watching as (Y/N) flustered some before ultimately nodding her head, "I don't know how to act around that guy—Harry—with my clothes on, I think I would combust if he asked me to take them off." 

It wasn't hard to see that (Y/N) was bubbling with embarrassment at Bria's remark—though Mikaela did hardily agree. She wondered if (Y/N) felt the same way; it was hard to picture her getting flustered over someone like Bria's artist. There could be that whole opposites attract thing going on for them, but Mikaela could only really see the scenario where Harry would crush the marshmallow that is (Y/N).

"Oh, I don't know," she muttered half-heartedly, trailing off without a real answer, "You know, he's just..." 

"It's okay, I get it," Bria finished for her with a bubbling laugh that had (Y/N) cracking her own polite smile. "He's pretty intimidating, honestly. Not for everyone, I guess." 

With her hands a bundle in her lap, (Y/N) tilted her head, "I wouldn't say that—" 

Not a moment too soon, Professor Rian made his way back to the forefront of the auditorium—something Mikaela wished he would have done a half an hour prior. "Class dismissed. Next Wednesday we'll do our final draft reviews and the finished essays will be due next Friday at midnight. Have a nice weekend." 

"Finally," Bria exasperated, immediately rushing to pack her things just as Mikaela had before Rian had even finished talking.

(Y/N) had done the smart thing and had her things ready to go once they had finished peer reviewing, only having to sling her bag over her shoulder while she quietly waited for the pair of them to get their own shit together. 

It was wild how much more awake Mikaela felt now that class had been dismissed, leaving behind the exhausted state she was lulling into at her desk. Shrugging into her jacket, the mental list of tasks she had to accomplish before her sister, Mira, and her boyfriend would be over for dinner didn't sound so bad now.

"What are you getting, Bria? For your tattoo, I mean," she chirped up, peering around Mikaela as they walked into the corridor, steps in sync with one another. 

"The moon and some stars and stuff on the top of my hand," she explained, "It's kind of hard to describe without a picture, but it's this whole thing." 

"That sounds really pretty," (Y/N) smiled, sincerity in her voice, "Hopefully it won't take too long—I hear the top of your hand can hurt sometimes with the bones and all." 

"It might not be so bad if it took a while, right?" Mikaela piped up, shooting Bria a look from the corner of her eye. Maybe, if Mira and her boyfriend didn't overstay their welcome tonight, she'd go with Bria in the morning and see if her artist had a girlfriend or something. 

(Or was at least open to hooking up on one of the tattoo chairs). 

Leading down the hall towards the main entrance of the building, Bria nudged Mikaela's shoulder. Ahead of them, (Y/N) reached forward and opened the door for the three of them to pass through. 

"Definitely wouldn't be bad," Bria laughed, the chill of the winter air seeping through the sleeves of Mikaela's jacket as they stepped outside. "I don't know, I might even—Wait, oh my god." 

"What?" Mikaela asked, brows furrowing at the abrupt change in her friend. 

Instead of the amused bubbly expression she wore just a moment prior, Bria now looked ahead with wide eyes and gaped lips, her steps slowing over the concrete. 

(Y/N) noticed the change in her demeanor as well, peering around Mikaela as her own features molded into something of worry. "What happened?"

"He's here," Bria muttered, looking straight ahead towards the student parking lot, "That's literally him right there, isn't it? Why is he here?" 

"Who? Who's her—" 

Following Bria's line of sight, Mikaela felt her own words get stuck in her throat when she saw just what had her friend going limp. 

As if summoned, Bria's tattoo artist—Harry—had somehow found a prime parking space in the student lot and was now waiting.

He was ever the intimidating figure with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the hulking frame of the black Range Rover behind him. (Because, of course, he would drive a Range Rover). Even with the chunky black cardigan draped over his form, he didn't look any less imposing than when he had stalked through the tattoo parlor. He perfectly matched his car, all black, tattoos tracing over his skin, including the heavy chest pieces on display from the low scoop of his top. A pair of sunglasses were holding his hair back on the top of his head, with his lips set in a firm line, lip ring and all.

"He doesn't go here, right?" Mikaela blanched. Why else would be here, if not to go to class, right?

(Y/N) looked just as bewildered as they were, a cant to her head as she took him in. "What is he doing here?" she muttered, voice quiet enough to be speaking to herself.

Their small trio stood off to the side, out of the way as the rest of their classmates trickled around them as well as other students meandering through campus. From where they stood, Mikaela could see the way the tattoo artist scanned over the student body, searching for something—or someone.

He didn't come to see Bria, right? That would be crazy, leaning on certifiable—even if he was hot.

Mikaela's eyes widened when she saw (Y/N) wave her hand above her head. What was she doing? Did she not think this was weird that he had showed up to campus when he really didn't have any reason to? 

She watched as he caught sight of (Y/N)'s waving arm and his features almost immediately softened. Even from where they were standing, it was clear to see the tension releasing from his body in a breath. He pushed off from where he was lent against his Range Rover and started towards the building—towards them.

Was (Y/N) insane or something, and they'd just missed all the signs until this moment? Why would she ask him to come over here?

"He's coming over here, what the fuck," Bria murmured, just as lost as Mikaela. 

It didn't take long for his spanning strides to cross the concrete and take him to where their small group had taken root. Seeing him this close again, Mikaela realized her memory didn't do him any justice—he was more than gorgeous. Unfortunately crazy, but still hot. 

Had he always had his nose pierced? Had his eyes always been that green? Had they always been pinned to (Y/N) like that? 

"(Y/N), do you—" Bria started, only to cut herself off when (Y/N) excitedly bounced up to her toes once the tattoo artist was close. 

"What are you doing here, H?" she chirped, familiarity in her voice as she looked up at him.

Mikaela figured she wore the same expression that Bria did, with her eyes wide and brows raised, a fraction away from her jaw dropping as they watched the tattoo artist—H—pull (Y/N) into his arms and drop a kiss on the top of her head.

"Came to pick you up for lunch, if that's okay," he murmured, not sparing a glance their way as he kept the pink marshmallow in his arms. "I also noticed there was an extra jacket lying around my room that I thought was supposed to be with you." 

Sheepishly looking down, (Y/N) shook her head. "I forgot, I'm sorry." 

Adoration was clear on the tattoo artist's—her boyfriend—features. "'S alright, lovebug. I brought it with me so y'can have it the rest of the day, jus' don't keep forgetting it. 'S only getting colder out, I don't want you to get sick." 

"I won't," (Y/N) sighed, looking entirely at home as she clutched his sweater in her hands and fluttered her lashes at him as if he were a king. "Thank you." 

Mikaela couldn't help the simmering of her blood beneath her skin, surely a flush painting her complexion as she thought back to just what she and Bria had been saying during class. They talked all about how hot (Y/N)'s boyfriend was to her face, implied he was intimidating and not her type, and she had even heard them freak out thinking he had come to see them. She was never going to pair with them for peer review again.

(Though Mikaela will give herself credit for not speaking about the lingering fantasy she'd had involving one of those tattoo chairs and Harry's hair pulled back so he could focus). 

"Um," Mikaela sounded, almost cringing at how stupid she sounded from just a single syllable, "I think we should probably go, but we'll see you next week, (Y/N)." 

(Y/N) turned with her expression going bashful. Her boyfriend's hands didn't move from where they were on her waist though he finally looked up from her to see the rest of the world around them. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized as if in reflex. Looking at the man behind her, she started with a shy smile on her lips, "Harry, this is Bria and Mikaela. They're the girls from one of my English classes I've told you about." 

Back was the expression she recognized from when she had dropped by the tattoo parlor. His features hardened some, going less open and easy to read than they had been just a moment ago. He took them in with a stilted smile on his lips. 

"Nice to meet you," he murmured, his gaze flicking to Bria for a split second longer, "Actually, we've met before, right? You're my nine a.m. tomorrow." 

"I am, yeah," Bria said, sounding just as lame as Mikaela felt. It was easy to see Bria was floundering for anything to say before she finally settled on, "(Y/N) didn't tell us she had a boyfriend." 

His smile turned lopsided at that, amusement flickering in his gaze as he looked down at the marshmallow in his arms. "She didn't?" 

(Y/N) looked to the pair of them, biting back a smile as if remembering what was said back in class but deciding it was their secret to keep. "It just didn't come up." 

"Right," he smiled, squeezing her waist just enough to get her bouncing at his side with a short huff of laughter pouring out, "Are you ready to go?" 

"I think so, yeah," (Y/N) agreed, craning her neck to smile up at him before returning her attention to Mikaela and Bria. "I'll see you guys next week."

The pair shared similar goodbyes, hoping they didn't sound as embarrassed as they felt. Walking away from them, Mikaela watched Harry tangle his fingers with (Y/N), slowing just long enough to press a kiss to her forehead before leading her towards his Range Rover.

"We are the most annoying people in the world," Mikaela said, breaking their silence, "We literally said all of that about him to his girlfriend." 

"She's never going to partner for peer review with us again." 

Despite the guilt and bits of humiliation floating through her system, Mikaela couldn't shake off just how sweet it was to see (Y/N) interact with someone like that—especially someone like her boyfriend. They were clearly in love, that much she could tell.

"Oh my god," Bria said, whipping her head around to look at Mikaela with horror stricken eyes. 

"What?" Mikaela asked, taken aback at the sudden urgency in Bria's voice. Was another person they had lusted over to their partner, about to round the corner? 

"I have to see him again tomorrow," Bria whined, "And, (Y/N)'s probably going to tell him what we said." 

At that thought, Mikaela really hoped her sister would overstay her welcome tonight—give her a reason to stay in bed and leave Bria to her appointment alone. 

—————