Grapejuice Bluee🥂

(4) and now I’m covered in you..

She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble and it irritates him more than it should. — a scary situation creates a lot of conflicting thoughts for both characters.. angst (14.3k)

(5) magnificently cursed

She can’t seem to ignore him and he’s rather observant of her.. - angst, little dramatic incident (11.4k)

(6) clover blooms in the fields

She needs help and he just so happens to be the only one available.. - little angst, more fluff (tw: does mention surgical procedures) (12.3k)

(7) crescent moon, coast is clear

She was struggling to let go of her worrying thoughts, but he was determined to help her through it. — there’s some angst & fluff (15.2k)

(8) he’s gonna burn this house to the ground

He has added insult to injury and she gives him one chance to make it right. — bit of angst lots of fluff and dialogue (17.5k)

this series is loosely inspired by the song ivy by taylor swift

more pics // more pics (2) // more pics (3)

part 8 teaser post(with photos)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ playlist *ੈ✩‧₊˚

(just a few songs that inspired this series & what I listen to while writing it :: these are my music preferences so if you don’t like them.. don’t listen) •••slight spoilers so be aware/you can skip over this•••

ivy - taylor swift

lie to girls - sabrina carpenter

my boy only breaks his favorite toys - taylor swift

norman fucking rockwell- lana del rey

right now - one direction

souvenir - selena gomez

something in the way - nirvana

fine line - harry styles

guilty as sin - taylor swift

cinnamon girl - lana del rey

brain stew- greenday

the next best american record - lana del rey

dancing with our hands tied - taylor swift

lips of an angel - hinder

tonight - zayn

small talk - niall horan

iris - goo goo dolls

so it goes - taylor swift

stay over - tove lo

love is a wild thing - kacey musgraves

false god - taylor swift

little freak - harry styles

crimson and clover - joan jett (& the blackhearts)

I can fix him (no really I can) - taylor swift

get stoned - hinder

angel - kacey musgraves

there you are - zayn

nobody gets me - sza

alone - heart

cardigan - taylor swift

lover of mine - 5sos

mateo- tove lo

strong - one direction

Fitting her arms around his shoulders, (Y/N) tried her final strategy. She clung to him like a koala, hoping to somehow disarm him or even squish his hands between their bodies to make him immobile. In the end, when her form was pressed to his, it worked as the perfect distraction. Harry couldn't stop himself before he was moving instinctively and wrapping his arms around her to hold her as she wrapped around him like a vine. She panted in his ear, struggling to catch her breath as he rolled them to have (Y/N) lay atop his chest with their legs tangled. 

"Thank you," she peeped between gasps, feeling flush after the tirade a single question had brought on. 

Harry, with his arms wrapped tightly around her middle and his face tucked into her neck, whispered, "I didn't hurt you or anything, right?" 

She was quick to shake her head at his words, the movement stilted in her own position with her face in his shoulder. "No, just couldn't breathe for a little. I know you were only playing, it's okay." 

Letting out a deep breath, he flexed his hold on her in a tight pulse before turning to press a kiss to her hairline. His lips lingered on her skin, the cool sliver of his lip ring a bright spot against (Y/N)'s heated skin. 

A beat of silence passed, (Y/N) melting in his old before she burst with the same question that had prompted Harry's play wrestling. 

"So... You never really answered me," she drawled, hoping her hidden position in his chest would shield her if he decided he wanted to play around again, "What do you want for your birthday?" 

Harry sighed, his breath fanning through her hair. "Lovebug," he started, amusement and exasperation mingling in his tone, "I did answer you. I don't want anything, you know that. I only want you." 

(Y/N) held back a hmph. What a lame answer. 

"But you already have me." 

"I know," his classic lopsided smile audible in his words, "I have you every night."

A heat raised to (Y/N)'s cheeks that she was sure he felt against his chest. Despite the fact it was clear he had her last night with the minimal amounts of clothing on both of them—(Y/N) in only his shirt and Harry with boxers slung low on his hips—and the mess of sheets and blankets that wasn't just from the mess of hands Harry woke her up with, he hadn't needed to say it like that.  

"But—Harry, I—"(Y/N) floundered, unable to find her tongue through her heart lodged in her throat. 

His laughter rumbled his chest underneath her, the sound ringing close to (Y/N)'s ears. "You're so cute, baby." 

Though her mouth was now dry and her heart pulsed at his mumbled compliment, (Y/N) tried again, "B-but, I'm not a real present. I want to get you something nice like you always do for me." 

Harry finally reared back from the home he made in her shoulder, forcing her to pull back and fall under his observing gaze. The lack of black kohl around his lashes did nothing to soften the intensity of his eye contact, though the moss color of his irises were undeniably tender as they took her in. The lip ring she was very familiar with glinted in the low light that filtered through the cracks in his curtains, a matching hoop to the black ring pierced through his nose. All around him, his hair fanned out in twisting curls, his own form of a messy halo though he had dubbed her to be the angel between them. 

It was moments like these, when she had an unobstructed view of him—of the love of her life—that she couldn't help but be grateful for everything that happened before they met. If her parents had raised her differently, if she hadn't grown to be the person she was now, who knows if she ever would have had this? Had him? 

No matter how many times he embarrassed her with his flirty words or tickled her until her breath was stolen and tears entered her eyes, she wouldn't trade a single second of it. 

"I really don't need anything, darling, I promise. 'M not talking shit when I say you're m'present. That's enough for me. I don't need anything else when I've got you." His voice came out in a croon between them, as if he were sharing a secret only to be heard by her. 

(Y/N) felt her features round out at his words, softening the lines and creases. Her lips curved into a gentle line on her face, tender as his eyes. 

"Are you sure?" she pressed, settling her chin on his chest as she gazed up at him.

"'M sure, love," he said, craning his neck to press a delicate kiss to her nose, "Jus' want y'to spend the day with me, that'll be enough for me."

As (Y/N) melted into his hold, feeling every bit of his warmth through her thin top, she liked that she was enough for him.  

Still, she was going to ask Mitch if there was anything Harry mentioned that he wanted.

—————

Waiting for the waffle maker to beep, (Y/N) did her best to blink the sleep crust from her eyes. How Harry was able to do this every morning without fail was beyond her. Breakfast was nice and all, but sleep was something she savored more than any food that was served before ten a.m.. 

But, this was for Harry, she reminded herself. This whole seven a.m. wakeup and padding across the cold floor in bare feet, was for Harry. Today was his birthday—the first birthday of his that they were spending together—and she was determined to do any and everything she could to make this day special for him. Though she ultimately decided to stick to his request of no presents (mostly, it had been because when she had consulted Mitch, and he had offered her the same answers that Harry had given her; that He said he didn't want anything and hadn't dropped any hints to indicate otherwise), she did have a few tricks up her sleeve that she was going to utilize to the best of her ability. 

If he wanted her as his gift, she was going to be the best little present she could be. 

From the corner of her eye, the bouquet of flowers she had picked up and braved the world for before eight o'clock caught her attention. It wasn't exactly a traditional present, but he got her flowers all the time. She hoped he liked the arrangement, even if there was an extra smattering of pink baby's breath dotted through out upon her request. 

The waffle maker beeped a little too loud for the early morning, making (Y/N) jump in her spot. A heavy sigh was sucked in through her nose, hoping the vanilla scented oxygen would have a hand in hopefully waking her up. Plating the crispy waffle, (Y/N) reached for the few fixings she had grabbed after spooning the batter into he maker. Some special vanilla infused butter Harry had found on one of his grocery trips was smeared on top before a couple of spoonfuls of split raspberries were dotted across. Instead of syrup, (Y/N) added a drizzling of honey to settle in the punched out squares of the waffle, something she hoped he would appreciate since they were out of the regular syrup after he and Mitch had a long night filled with the munchies a couple of days ago. The finishing touch came in the form of a yellow and white striped birthday candle shoved right in the middle.

Now, she had to hope he hadn't somehow woken up through the minimum amount of noise she made all morning and surprise him with his birthday breakfast. 

Balancing the plate in her hands, one of Harry's lighters tucked away in the pocket of her (his) hoodie, (Y/N) danced around Evie as she made her way to the bedroom. The kitten seemed just as excited to wish Harry a happy birthday it seemed (and to probably get bits and pieces of the waffle that (Y/N) knew she would cave and hand out like treats). 

Evie let out a chirping meow as they approached the door, her voice a bright squeak in the middle of the quiet, to which (Y/N) shushed her for. "Not yet, Evie, we'll sing in a minute when he wakes up," she murmured, carefully twisting the doorknob and entering the bedroom she so missed when she had been out and about.

Just as she hoped, Harry was still snug in bed. His head was cushioned by the black satin cased pillow she had done her part to convince him was good for his hair and skin, all the while hugging the one she had slept on and later replaced her own form with when she crept out early that morning. His chest was bare through the black bedding was tugged high to reach the top of his shoulder and shield him from the chill of sleeping alone. His lashes curled and touched the very height of his cheekbones, a crease running along his cheek where he had laid on the pillow wrong, a small gap parting his lips as he breathed in even, deep paces. 

(Y/N) beamed at the sight, her heart thumping in her chest and lungs squeezing as the butterflies in her tummy flew high up. This was a rare sight for her, seeing him asleep. Unless she somehow beat him out and stayed up later than him or managed to wake up before the sun, he was the one that got the view of her sleep-softened form. 

She carefully stepped over the floorboards, aware of Evie skating between her feet and racing her to the bed's edge. While (Y/N) placed the waffle stacked plate on her bedside table (Harry had bought another one soon after he gave her a key to his place, never really saying anything about it other than that she could start leaving some of her stuff there overnight if she wanted), Evie jumped up on the bed and sat close to her dad's face with purrs rumbling through her chest. 

Emulating the kitten, (Y/N) climbed up the bed and sat next to where Harry laid with her legs tucked underneath her. She reached a gentle hand out and brushed Harry's curls from his forehead, fingertips lingering over his skin. "Harry," she crooned, settling a delicate hand on his shoulder, "Harry, wake up." 

A short grunt was all she received in response before he attempted to roll over and smush his face in the pillow that had taken her place in his arms. 

"Harry, no, it's your birthday and I made you breakfast. Wake up, please, H," she tried again, shaking him gently with her grip on his tattooed shoulder. 

Awareness crept into the edges of Harry's features, his breathing breaking the even pace he had curated while his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "(YN)?" he grumbled, voice deep and graveled as he breathed her name.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she whispered, shuffling closer to him with the bedsheets bunching underneath her. She chanced a small kiss to he round of his shoulder, stamping her lips atop the cursive A she now knew represented his mother's initial. 

A lopsided smile plucked at the corner of Harry's lips though he kept his eyes lidded. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, "Is that what's got y'up so early?" 

"Mhm," (Y/N) phummed, absently petting Evie as the kitten made her way to stand on the pillow by Harry's head, her purring growing in volume as she searched for his attention. "I made you breakfast and everything." 

This finally drew a slow blink of Harry's eyes, opening just a crack as he gazed up at her. "You did?" 

An eager nod of her head tossed the stray pieces of hair that fell from her bun into flutter around her face. "I made you waffles with all of your favorite things—but I forgot to grab syrup at the store so I used honey, instead." 

The lopsided curve bloomed into a full smile now as Harry listened to her. Rolling onto his back and effectively displacing Evie from her perch, he stretched his arms high above his head and let the covers fall to his middle. His eyes were sleep hooded even as he fully awoke, laid up in the soft sheets that tumbled closer to his waist the more he moved, allowing the full of his bare chest to be on display. He gazed at her from his spot, lazily dragging his eyes over her form as he noted her borrowed shirt and sleep mussed hair. She felt both exposed and safe under his gaze; he saw everything in her, she could do nothing to hide even a detail, but she also knew he would never love her any less because of anything he found. 

Before (Y/N)'s thumping heart could fly her off the bed, she reached for his breakfast plate and the almost forgotten lighter she had set next to it. Evie scurried to her side now that the food was close, reaching to the top of her tiny toes in an effort to catch a sniff of what she was perceiving as her own meal. 

"Even put a candle in it?" Harry murmured, shuffling to an upright position with his back against the headboard, "You're too sweet, lovebug." 

(Y/N) sang him a quiet happy birthday through a tender smile and flushed cheeks, aware of his gaze on her as she click, click, clicked his lighter to get it to ignite. By the time she finished the short song, her smile had tugged into a frown as she still hadn't been able to get the flame going on the tip of the lighter. A quiet chuckle could be heard from a cross her, Harry's lips in a crooked grin as he reached for her hand. 

"Let me try, baby," he said, warming her hand with his for a lingering second before taking the lighter from her fingers. It took him a single try to ignite the flame before he took it to the wick. 

"Thank you," she peeped, feeling a bit guilty that she ruined his big moment to make a wish and made him do some of the work for his own birthday surprise, "Sorry." 

Harry was quick to shake his head at her mumbled words, "Don't be sorry, nothing wrong with needing a little help. Now, c'mere and be very careful, yeah?" 

He patted his lap with a palm, eyes dropping to the open flame on the waffles as she shuffled over to sit as instructed. Placing his palms on her hips, he helped her with the transition, careful of the plate in her hands as he maneuvered her to sit comfortably atop him. 

"Do you want me to sing again?" (Y/N) murmured once she was situated, her eyes fixed to the wobbling flame. 

A half smile allowed only a single dimple to dent Harry's cheek, a quick shake of his head given in response. "No, baby, y'don't have to. 'M sure m'wish will turn out just fine anyway." 

His gaze lingered over her for a moment as he mentioned his wish, (Y/N)'s skin feeling warm as she noted the path his eyes took down the neckline and slouching shoulder of her borrowed top. Delivering a squeeze to her hips, Harry sucked in a breath before shuttering his eyes and blowing out the slowly shortening candle, the drips of wax falling into a pool of honey (Y/N) was going to need to somehow fish out before Harry took a bite. The doused flame was replaced with the phantom smoke whirling between them. The haze worked as a filter over Harry's features, speared by shards of sunlight breaching the cover of the curtains. 

When he looked like this, she could only describe him as an angel—a miracle. To think this was just the first of his birthdays they would get to enjoy together, with the rest of their lives ahead of them. Just the idea made (Y/N)'s heart hurt and tummy twist into a cocoon for another swarm of butterflies to claim. 

"What did you wish for?" (Y/N) asked, lowering the plate to sit on her lap between them. 

"You know I can't tell you that," Harry nudged her, an amused tilt to his tone, "Nosy girl." 

The corner of her lips tilted in a shy smile, her gaze dropping to the tattoos inked over his collarbones. "Will you tell me if it comes true, then?" 

Her request earned her a kiss on her cheek, the imprint of his lips warming her skin. "I promise, darling," he crooned, his hands on her hips pulsing before joining her gaze on his birthday feast, "Ready to eat with me?" 

"Oh, right," (Y/N) chirped at the reminder, plucking the candle from the waffle to lay on a paper towel she brought along to work as a napkin on the side table. She shifted to climb off of Harry's lap, giving him space, before she was stopped with the grip on her hips. 

"Where do y'think you're going?" 

Brows pinching in the middle, (Y/N) canted her head as she looked to him. "I thought you said you wanted to eat." 

"With you," Harry cemented, ducking his head to be level with her, "So you've got to stay right where y'are." 

"I only brought one fork, though." 

"Didn't know y'were so scared of m'cooties," Harry teased, plucking the utensil from the edge of the plate and cutting into the confection. A perfect bite with a pool of honey in the cube and a half of a raspberry tinting the waffle red was cut away and scooped onto the prongs. His remaining hand on her side squeezed, "Open for me." 

(Y/N) did as told with a flush in her cheeks. Wasn't she supposed to be doting on him today? Since when had her romantic plan of a surprise breakfast in bed devolved into Harry feeding her his birthday surprise? 

He raised his brows as she chewed, cutting off a piece for himself with lazy movements. "Good?" 

Her response came in the form of a hummed mhm, a little too shy to speak in that moment. 

Harry looked a little too pleased with himself as he took his own bite, praises for her simplistic cooking following soon after. He didn't mind sharing half of his breakfast with her, cutting off one bite for her before scooping his own up. He was quiet as they ate, asking her how her morning went without him and if she had any dreams she wanted to share (she'd had one last night where they were driving around aimlessly and Harry wouldn't ask for directions no matter how many times she told him she didn't know how to get to Greenland without an airplane). 

All the while, his attention was very lovingly and liberally served to her in the form of tender eyes and soft smiles. Soft lips kissed away dots of honey that had escaped her mouth and shared the sweetness of the vanilla butter with her in between bites. He was acting as if it were her birthday all over again, no matter the small mentions she made about how he wanted to spend his birthday and if Mitch had anything planned for him that night (the answer was no, as she had learned, Mitch took the wise route of giving Harry a card and a hug last night before going to the apartment for the weekend, leaving he and (Y/N) alone for the next forty-eight hours). 

It was when (Y/N) was rinsing the plate in the kitchen, readying it to be put in the dishwasher while Harry fawned over his bouquet of flowers, that she decided what the rest of the day was going to look like. No matter how hard he tried to squirm out of today, she was going to ensure he had the best birthday ever. 

—————

Harry was officially the king of squirming out of his birthday. All he needed was a crown.

Other than a few phone calls from his family and the boys at the shop, accompanied by texts interspersed through the day, Harry hadn't acknowledged much of his birthday. A friend of his even shared the same birthday and he had called her first and shared his happy wishes for her before he even admitted that yes it was his birthday too, and yes he was having a wonderful day, thank you. 

(Y/N) even managed to take him out (fighting off an afternoon nap especially with the early morning still hanging over her), and no matter which shop or boutique they went to, Harry managed to find something he told her made him think of her and that she should have. She turned down every proposition, but still, it made her nervous she wasn't putting enough emphasis on him. Even when she took him to an art supply store that she had no business being in given the state of the stick figures she doodled in Harry's sketchbook, hard pressed to get him something he could use—even if it was for work—he still managed to find a carton of colored pencils filled with exclusively pink and rose shades that he told her she could keep at the shop and play around with when she was waiting on him on his late paperwork nights. 

"Harry," she finally whined when they were huddled in the back of a record store, Harry on a mission to find a colored pressing of one of her favorite albums they could play tonight on his record player, "Stop." 

Halting in his tracks, Harry's hand still wrapped in hers, he looked at her with raised brows over the dark sunglasses he hadn't bothered to pull from his face in favor of keeping his hand in hers. "What?" 

"Today's supposed to be about you," she said, somewhat petulantly, fighting the pout that threatened the stern set in her features, "Why are you trying to do all of this stuff for me?" 

(Y/N) could already picture the intensity of his green eyes under the shades as he pursed his lips, the very edges of his brows shaping into a pinch she could see around the frames. "I know," he started, "That's why I was doing all of this."

The first crack in her firm facade came in the form of knitted brows as she gazed up at him, feeling the urge to nervously pick at her nails, a habit Harry was working with her to break so she didn't constantly mess with her manicures. "What?"

An easy smile spread on Harry face, his attention falling back to the cartons and cartons of records stacked around them, fingers thumbing through the alphabetized categories. "When we left, y'said it was m'birthday so we were doing whatever I wanted—whatever made me happy right?" 

(Y/N) nodded her head quietly beside him, following along to whatever aisle he wandered down. 

"I like taking care of you, love, you know that," he said simply, flexing his fingers between hers, "So, doing all these little things for you make me happy. Whenever you're happy, I am, too. That's all 'm trying to do today." 

"But," (Y/N) sputtered, unsure how to get around his logic, "W-We're going to your favorite places; you're supposed to find things you like so I can buy them for you." 

Harry gave her simple nod, sliding out a record that she'd been searching for since it went out of stock online months ago. She tried her best to hide the perk in her demeanor when she saw the cover, the blue tinted silver shining in the light. She knew she failed when he tucked the vinyl under his other arm. 

"I am finding stuff I like, but 'm having more fun this way. Everywhere we go is m'favorite place when 'm with you." 

With her resolve now paper thin, (Y/N) used what was left of her conviction, "I don't know, H. Are you sure?" 

That caused a small pause in his walk. He turned to look at her, finally pushing his sunglasses to sit atop is head and push back his curls like a headband. "Trust me, baby, yeah? 'M very sure about this." 

Her eyes flicked to the record under his arm. "Promise?" 

A tender smile tugged at his lips, the curve going lopsided with only a single dimple denting into his cheek. "I promise." 

(Y/N) let out a small okay next to him, her smile facing the ground as she laid her attention at their feet. Whether or not this was another ploy to squirm out of his birthday, she had to trust him, right? 

Besides, she still had the flowers she left him at home and the dinner she had planned for tonight. And, her agenda for after dinner she hoped went on without a hitch. 

So, she'd let him walk her around a record store, picking out things he knew she liked when she knew there was still another present waiting for him at home.

—————

"First y'make me breakfast, then I see y'brought me flowers, and now you're getting dinner delivered? Darling, I think 'm in love with you." 

Harry's words were stamped on the back of (Y/N)'s neck as she hung up the phone with Little House, their favorite Chinese takeaway spot and the choice of tradition for any special occasion between them. He'd come back from changing in his bedroom to find her on the phone, ordering their dinner when he had rounded behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle in a loose hug as she spoke. She was still fairly anxious when it came to making calls like that, always worried she'd order the wrong thing or mess up her words and hear a snicker on the other end (she knew those were silly little fears that meant next to nothing, but they still poked and prodded at her from the back of her mind), especially since Harry usually took on the responsibility of ordering for them like that, so his presence was more than comforting. His declaration of love after pressing the red button to end the call was like her reward for her troubles. 

"I love you, too, H," she murmured, voice soft as she laid her arms over his and squeezed herself against his chest, "I know today hasn't been the most exciting birthday, but I really hope you've had a good time." 

His smile could be felt in the crook of her neck as Harry shifted his hold on her to grab at the soft of her waist. (Y/N) allowed herself to be pulled wherever Harry wanted her, staying pliant as she was turned to face him with her arms and phone tucked between their chests. His smile was tender as he gazed down at her, the softness of the curve rivaled only by the cushy moss coloring of his eyes. His hands were splayed over the small of her back, pinkies dipping into the dimples at the bottom of her spine. 

"This is the best birthday I've ever had, you know that," he cooed, "I love jus' being with you. I don't need loads of presents or parties or whatever y'think I need, I jus' want to spend time with you. And, I think 's special enough that y'didn't nap today and instead watched that entire documentary with me." 

(Y/N) couldn't help herself but fall into his chest, tucking her head under his chin and face in his neck. Though this was how they'd spent most of the afternoon, tangled together on the couch with whatever show or movie Harry wanted to watch playing on the television, it hadn't gotten old. The feel of his hands warming her back and the tickle of his curls brushing her nose was more than comforting, all the while being encompassed in his scent. As much as today was about him, this was definitely something she considered a gift. 

"That was pretty hard, I can't lie," (Y/N) mumbled, a small smile forming on her lips as she spoke. It really was the truth, anyway; it had been Harry who had pointed out how sleepy she became no matter what film or program was put on the T.V. after spending the morning with him, her being the first to fall asleep between the two without fail, even when she promised she'd watch the whole thing.

A lopsided smile curved over his features, a single dimple denting into his cheek as his tender gaze traced her face. "'M sure it was, baby," he crooned, "'M proud of y'for sticking through it." 

Wiggling her arms out from between them, (Y/N) disregarded her phone on the counter beside them before placing her hands on either side of Harry's jaw, cupping the sharp line in her palms. Her fingertips inched into the very edge of his hairline, his curls loose and grazing his collarbones. 

This was the longest she had ever seen his hair, and she loved it. The silken curls were her favorite things to play with anyway, especially when it was Harry who was having a hard time getting to sleep, and the added length made it all that much more enticing to run her fingers through. 

That was why she couldn't help herself before moving one of her hands from his jaw, brushing her fingers through the strands and tucking them out of his face. She curled his hair behind his ear, allowing the low light glowing through the kitchen to dance over the side of his face and touch the dark ink etched into his neck. She could feel his eyes on her as she indulged herself and glazed her eyes over the planes of his face and the highpoints of his features. When her eyes trailed over his neck, it was the blank spots that had stood out to her the most compared to the black ink she was so familiar with.

He had told her once, late at night when he was talking her to sleep after they'd watched a scary movie, that he'd been wanting to get a tattoo dedicated to her. A pair of tiny angel wings he'd had in mind, the design small enough to fit somewhere on his chest or even his neck, he'd said. Now, whenever she thought to look, (Y/N) found herself pursuing the blank patches of skin that she might find one day filled with angel wings that she'd know were just for her. 

"What are y'thinking about, baby?" 

The sound of his voice and the bob of his Adam's apple in Harry's throat pulled (Y/N)'s attention back to his face. She shook her head, a shy smile on her lips at being caught despite the fact she had so blatantly looked him over. "Nothing." 

In true Harry fashion, he delicately pried as he dipped his head and nudged his nose against hers. "You've gotta tell me now, darling. Can't keep secrets when y'smile like that, 's not fair." 

The hand that she had brushed his hair back with, dropped to trace a cautious fingertip over the cords of his neck down to the neckline of his top, very aware of the warmth of his skin and his eyes that documented her every move. "It was just..." she trailed off, unsure of her own words, "Remember that time you said you wanted to get a tattoo for me? The angel wings and all?"

A slowly curling smile took home on Harry's lips. "Mhm." 

"I was just looking, that's all. Seeing if anything changed." 

"You're just checking, I see," Harry mused, ducking his head again to be eye level with her, the green of his gaze outlined by smudges of inky-black liner, "That would be a fun birthday present, don't you think? I could even have you be the one to give it to me. Would never forget something like that." 

(Y/N) practically blanched at the idea of being the one to hold the tattoo gun to his skin. She'd never have steady enough hands, that was for sure. "I couldn't—I don't think—" 

A teasing pout took over his features, "Y'wouldn't want to do that for me? Give me something special to have with me all the time that reminded me of you?" 

When he put it like that, (Y/N) could almost forgive the jagged lines she would no doubt make. Almost. "Harry..." 

He grabbed at her hand that had fallen to his chest, fingers wrapping around her wrist before he tugged it towards his neck again. From memory, he picked a blank inch of space along the column of his throat, the patch of skin left free between the twisting vines of the rosebush that colored his chest. "Not even if I asked y'to put it here? So everyone would see it? So everyone would know that I've got a pretty angel waiting for me at home. I'd even let y'do them in pink, if y'wanted." 

Her mouth had gone dry as Harry talked. He was so good at things like this, easing her and showing her what those kind of things would mean to him, even if she was scared at first. He was the best at talking to her, soothing the biting fears and anxieties that typically followed her. 

Maybe she wouldn't be so bad, (Y/N) pondered. If she was super careful and remembered to breathe, her hand could steady out and Harry might possibly be left with a petite pair of angel wings drawn by her hand that he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

When she didn't answer, Harry kept on, his eyes drawing over her features in tender runs, "Could do what we did for yours: wait for the shop to close so it'd be just the two of us. Could have you sit on m'lap, and I'd tell y'how to do everything, baby. I know you'd be so careful and good for me. I know you'd make it pretty for me, wouldn't you?"

(Y/N) floundered for a response, feeling her eyelids sink low over her eyes, lashes creating a flattering vignette around the vision of Harry. He knew exactly what he was doing, holding her so close she could feel the vibrations of his voice from his chest before she heard him with her ears. 

It was the picture of her sat astride his lap, Harry laying underneath her on one of the tattoo chairs in the private rooms that made her lungs squeeze the hardest. If she allowed herself to creep towards the back of her mind, in this vision, there was no tattoo gun involved. Even less so, were clothes needed in this mirage. She wouldn't need much of a steady hand with Harry gripping her hips and helping her bounce up and down atop him, the only breathing she'd need to focus on would be to suck in enough air to tell him she loved him between the sinking of her hips. 

Kissing the side of her distracted mouth, Harry mumbled against the skin through a smile. "Now, what are y'think—" 

The doorbell rang just before he had a chance to finish his thought. Dinner was here.

A breath she hadn't been aware was stuck in her throat finally worked its way out when Harry drew away. His eyes were still the bright green she was in love with, but there was something lingering in them that she knew a little to well and recognized in the dark of his bedroom. If they kept this up, the birthday present she had been gearing up for was going to be rushed to be shared on the couch. 

"I should get that," (Y/N) mumbled, the words rolling off her dry tongue though she didn't make a move to leave his arms.

"Probably," Harry mused, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Or, I can get it. Y'look a little flustered, baby, might be best if I go answer the door, hm?" 

She knew he was teasing her, the slight lilt to his tone all the evidence she needed. Still, even as her cheeks heated and eyes grew a fraction wider at his words, she liked it. She liked it when Harry played these little games with her; when it was just the two of them and he used that voice on her. 

"Okay." 

Harry's lazy smile transformed into a full grin at her response. His arms around her waist dropped as he stepped away from her. "Go wait in the living room for me, yeah? I'll be back in just a second, baby." 

He left her after patting at her bottom, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. She watched his retreating form, tattooed shoulders stretching the white tatters of his vintage Rolling Stone's t-shirt his mom had sent as a present. The fabric, worn and old, allowed for the stretch and lean of his muscles to be seen through it, each of his movements highlighted by his tattoos.

At this point, (Y/N) wasn't sure if this gift she had planned tonight was more for him or for her. 

—————

(Y/N) watched from the corner of her eye as Harry sunk further into the couch cushion, his eyes drooping in the light of the T.V.. He held a contented smile on his features as he pulsed the arm he had slung around her shoulders. Their Chinese take away was still spread over the coffee table, having finished with the containers over an hour ago though neither of them had the motivation to put the leftovers away for the night. 

She tried to be discreet in the way she allowed her gaze to trace over the lines of his form. Soft lighting from the kitchen seeped into the living room allowing for Harry to be backlit, his profile standing out against the light. His lashes held a gentle curve, the tips fluttering against his brow bone and resting on his cheekbone every time he blinked. The straight angle of his nose allowed for the perfect slope that directed (Y/N)'s eyes to the hills and valleys of his Cupid's bow. Of course, what caught her eye the most, were the pillows of his lips that she knew like the back of her hand. Even with the lack of light draining some of the color from his features, she knew she could pinpoint the exact shade of raspberry pink that tinted his lips. 

Looking at him now, her heart squeezed when she remembered this was just the first of his birthdays they were spending together. She was going to have the rest of her life to see him grow and change and add to the person she loved.

Moving her gaze from his face, she was more than thankful for the tatters of his Rolling Stone's t-shirt as the holes and gashes in the fabric allowed for peeks at his inked torso. The way he was stretched out, legs spread wide, taking up space next to her with the length of his arm thrown over her shoulders, made the lean muscles in his torso ripple and stretch in a reminder of how strong he was—and how gently he conducted himself with her despite that. His tattoos were dark underneath the fabric, enhancing the shadows already blanketing the view of him. Even without the clear strength he displayed and the lean gracefulness that only came from someone who had grown to love the body they were in, the art inked on his skin was enough for (Y/N) to argue that photographs of him should be hung in the Lourve. Maybe even a statue of him to replace Michelangelo's David would suffice. 

Harry adjusted his position on the cushion, a sliver of his abdomen visible as he moved from one of the holes in his shirt. (Y/N) watched as the muscles contracted and shifted under the ink on his skin, ticking a fond memory (or should she say memories) of the just a couple of nights ago when he had her sat astride his lap and he bucked his hips up into her, abdomen flexing and straining as he bounced her on his hips. She swallowed at the thought, daring to allow her train of thought to drift towards what she was hoping he wasn't too tired for tonight. Just like he had done for her birthday those months back, she had something special in mind for tonight. 

(Y/N) hadn't even realized she'd been caught staring—since when had she allowed herself to shift towards him, straying away from the sly sideways glancing she had began with?—until Harry's lips curved into a smile and she heard he gentle rumbling of his voice. "What are y'looking at, baby? Have I got something on m'face?" 

He knew exactly what he was doing, that lilt returning to his voice that spurred a blaze to ignite behind (Y/N)'s cheeks. When he made a lazy roll of his neck, finally looking to her with that lopsided smile on his mouth, she felt her heart skip a beat. So what if he was teasing her and caught her staring? He knew what he looked like, so there's no way he could blame her. 

"No," she peeped, answering the latter question. Rolling her lips between her teeth, she shuffled closer to his side, feeling the heat of his gaze on her face. "I was just wondering if you were tired already," she explained, a very short and clean version of where her thoughts really had landed as she gazed at him. 

Harry's arm around her shoulders flexed, his palm spanning her upper arm with tattooed fingers denting the soft skin. "'M not tired, no," he started, something sly added to the curl of his lips, "Why?" 

(Y/N) shook her head, lips tight as she fought the urge to settle herself against his chest and slant her mouth over his. As much as Harry brought her out of her shell, this territory was still something she allowed him to take the lead on and was harder for her to express her wants and desires as freely as he did. 

But, she figured with that she had planned for tonight, that wouldn't much matter with what she was going to propose to Harry.

"Just wondering," she settled on, picking at her nails that had fallen in her lap.

A dark brow raised over his eyes, a knowing look shaping his features. "Are you tired?"  

This time the shake of her head was immediate and rushed. She was definitely, definitely not tired. 

"Look at you," Harry smiled, taking the initiative to swing his opposing arm around to land on the thick of her thigh before tugging her to him. He curled around her form, ducking his head to catch her gaze. "Two movies together and y'didn't fall asleep during either one. 'M proud of you, lovebug." 

Unable to stop the grin that plucked at the corners of her lips, (Y/N) allowed the smile to stretch over her face. She loved it when he talked to her like that, hearing that he was proud of her, even if its over something silly like staying awake during movies. 

(Y/N) glanced at him through the cover of her lashes. "I didn't want to miss any of your birthday, that's all," she peeped, voice a secret between the two of them. 

Harry hummed at her words, eyes flitting over her features in teasing draws over the planes. "We've still got a few hours left, don't we? Any ideas on how to spend them, since y'don't want to miss anything?" 

As if he didn't already have a plan. (Y/N) knew better, knew he had something cooking up with that inky gleam in his eyes. 

Still, (Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth, dropping her gaze to his tattooed arms, the designs sinking under the sleeve of his top though the lines of his muscles were easy to follow. "I had a couple of ideas, maybe." 

The lopsided grin on his lips widened. "And what were those ideas, love?" 

She felt like a guppy now at his prompting, unsure of how exactly she wanted to phrase what she had planned for the night. Sure, he had done a stellar job of pulling her further and further out of her shell since they'd met, but this was... different. Different than anything she'd asked of him before. 

This whole idea came to her on accident, really. Months ago, she'd come by the shop to drop off Harry's lunch, him having forgotten the bag in the kitchen when he'd left that morning. It was supposed to be nothing more than a couple of minutes, in and out before she headed off to class after sharing a couple of kisses in his office. But, when she had walked in, finding the front room vacated with voices drifting through from Harry's office, she overheard something that made her pause. 

It was no secret Harry was the more experienced out of the two of them, but it definitely wasn't something they regularly discussed—if at all. But, walking into the tattoo parlor she overheard one of the boys (she was about ninety percent sure it was Niall, which didn't surprise her) teasing Harry about how he apparently only "made love" now, gone were the days of his raucous shenanigans and explicit flings. She had crept down the hallway, listening as their words floated out through the small crack left between the door and the jamb of his office. She heard as Harry brushed off their teasing, telling them to leave him alone. It seemed his protesting had only spurred them on, (Y/N) listening as she heard them start again, asking Harry if he remembered back in the day when he was the first to share whatever wild escapades had taken place the night before with details to spare. 

She'd known he'd gotten into some trouble before her, and more than likely toned down a lot of the kind of things he enjoyed before her, but it was different hearing it this way. Harry was always very adamant about how much he loved the things they did together, that he didn't want for anything when he had her kiss on his lips and her pretty body in his arms. Even then, he didn't play into their teasing, only offering half-hearted grumbles and requests for his friends to shut the fuck up, but (Y/N) felt like she was finally hearing about a side of her Harry she'd never learned about before. 

For a split second, the idea that he had these experiences with others before her inspired a lick of insecurity tinted with jealousy before the pit was quickly filled and a different set of ideas replacing that worry. She had all the time in the world to redraw those memories of his, putting herself in place of those previous girls. That was how he figured his birthday might be the best time to put some of those ideas into action. 

Harry nudged his nose against hers, the tip grazing her cheek as he awaited a response. "Y'can tell me, baby. 'S jus' me." 

"Well, um," she stuttered, taking advantage of the lack of eye contact as he buried his face in her neck, "I just... When we go to your room, I want tonight to be all about you. I want to do whatever you want—however r-rough you want to be, I'll do it." 

Once that stuttered word left her mouth, her request for him to be rough, she felt Harry tense. The teasing shapes he was drawing on the curve of her neck with the tip of his nose and the brushes of his lips against the delicate skin halted in less than a second. 

Maybe this wasn't the right thing to ask. 

Pulling back from the home he made in her neck, Harry's eyes were clear and unrelenting as they matched hers. "Y'want me to be rough with you?" 

Swallowing, (Y/N) found her mouth dry now that she had an unobstructed view of his reaction. "I-I want to do whatever you like, in-including being rough if that's what you want." 

Long, slow moments passed where (Y/N) felt more than a little vulnerable under his gaze. The mossy coloring of his irises decreased until it was nothing more than a thin ring around his pupils. The longer he looked at her, she noticed the way something smug lingered on the edge of his lips though he tried to bite it back with the blunt of his teeth. 

Touching his forehead to hers, Harry closed the space between them tight enough to leave just the tip of his nose nudging hers though not near enough to close the gap between their lips. "That's not what I asked you, baby, you know that. I wanted to know if you wanted me to be rough. Don't care if it's something y'think I want, I want to know what you want." 

His eyes were clear and piercing as they met hers, cutting out any chance for her to shy away or find anything other than his attention to concentrate on. His hands were still softly cradling her form, an arm around her shoulder to anchor her while the other hand cupped the soft of her thigh, fingers edging towards her bottom—gentle, like he always was with her. 

With Harry's words floating around in her head, (Y/N) pictured what it would be like for those gentle hands on her body to shift. For his hands to change the way they guided her. The gentle pressing of his fingertips on her thigh could become bruising dents into the soft of her form. The weight of his body pinning her to the mattress under him, keeping her just where he wanted. His hips driving between hers, knocking the breath out of her before she could even gasp his name. All the while, he could still picture Harry kissing her gently, telling her how beautiful she was even as she was ruined. 

Focusing her attention back on the man that was currently starring in her fantasies, (Y/N) realized she hadn't been very discreet in her imaginings. The corner of his lips were upturned in the slightest, his hooded eyes seeming entirely too smug around the ink of his blown pupil. 

"I think it could be... nice," (Y/N) settled on, her words nothing more than a peep between them. 

Harry's lips bloomed into a smile at her word choice. "Nice? Y'think me being rough with you, showing y'exactly how I want you and letting me do anything I want, would be nice?" 

He was teasing her. As expected, a fluttering of butterflies and bumblebees made way through her tummy, knocking against her ribs and punching at the soft tissue of her middle. But, what wasn't normal, was the extra clench of her muscles at the tone he used, the cloying, gently mocking tone that swathed his words and made her thighs clench and insides pulse. 

Maybe it was the butterflies in her tummy or the way he was looking at her so intensely with a teasing shimmer in his eyes, but (Y/N) felt breathless as she spoke. "I-I think so, yeah." 

(Y/N) watched as Harry sucked in a deep breath, his eyes clear and attentive as he gazed as her. Before she could react, his hand that had been settled on her thigh reached up and grabbed at her chin, pinching the curve between his thumb and forefinger as he tipped his head and pressed his lips against hers. 

Gentle as he always was, Harry guided her through the contact, tucking her bottom lip between his two. He sucked on the full of her lip sweetly, the tip of his tongue tasting the swipe of raspberry lip treatment she had applied to her mouth after dinner. It wasn't the kiss she had expected given the circumstances of their conversation, but it wasn't one she was going to complain about. 

That is until Harry's hand on her chin shifted, working over the line of her jaw before finding its way through her hair. His fingers sifted through the strands before he made a sharp fist on the back of her head, hair included. Her head snapped back, baring her neck as her pulse picked up under the delicate skin. A gasp fell from her mouth, the change in his hold more startling than anything painful. 

"Was that nice like y'were thinking?" 

Despite the lightly mocking edge to his words, (Y/N) couldn't help but flutter her eyes closed and nod her head as best she could with a fist in her hair. The brush of Harry's lips against hers that she earned was nothing more than a tease before he pulled away after a breath. Only their breathing could be heard as (Y/N) tried to find her mind, Harry's hand lingering heavily in her hair. He made slow work of unfurling his fingers and allowing the strands to slip back into place. 

"I think," he breathed, dotting a kiss on her chin before the point was plucked between his thumb and forefinger, "we need to talk about a couple of things before we keep going. That alright, angel?" 

Blinking her eyes open, she allowed her chin to level and get a look at her Harry. There was something different in his gaze as he swept it over her features. The green of his eyes was almost completely eradicated around the inky black of his blown pupil, a spark lingering behind them that she'd never seen before. 

Was this the guy the boys had talked about? Was this who existed before she walked into his life?

"Hm, baby?" he prompted her, thumb tapping against her chin through the hold he had on her.

"Y-Yeah," she stuttered, "We can talk." 

A sweet smile bloomed on his features the longer he looked at her, his grip on her chin loosening to a caress before he planted a soft kiss on her lips. "You're s'good, angel." 

She smiled into the contact, comforted by the reappearance of her safe place. "Thank you." 

A breathy laugh was exhaled through Harry's nose as his eyes practically turned into hearts while looking at her. He ran his thumb over the full of her bottom lip, pressing into the pad before whispering for her to c'mon, then, lovebug.

With their fingers laced together, the towed her behind him to his bedroom. As much as it broke her heart, (Y/N) closed the door behind them, effectively cutting off Evie from racing over the threshold and joining in on the cuddling she was expecting. Silence covered the bedroom as Harry tugged her to the bed, sitting himself down first before placing her on his lap. 

(Y/N) settled herself with thighs on either side of his hips, arms wrapping around his neck while Harry's steadied her around her waist. While he was still very clearly wrapped up in what they started out in the living room (the bulge sitting right underneath her was enough evidence), she still couldn't help herself from fawning over him. No matter how blown his pupils were and what the night's agenda held, he was still the most gentle, handsome man she'd ever met and that made her heart beat harder than anything. 

"Hi," she smiled, playing with the ringlets of curls falling over his shoulders. 

His smile was sweet as he gazed up at her. "Hi, baby." 

She couldn't help but hug herself to him at the sound of his affection, tucking herself into his neck with her chest pressed into his. Harry reciprocated her hold just as tightly, fingers braiding behind her back with his chin on her shoulder. 

"Still feeling good about your idea for tonight?" Harry cooed in her ear. 

Sitting in his arms, she got to feel the strength she had been admiring before. Corded muscles cuddled her close to the planes of his chest, blocks of abs pushing against the soft of her own body. She didn't know what he was going to do with his body, with the span of his hands that held her waist or the cradle of his thighs under her body, but she knew that he wouldn't do anything he didn't think she would enjoy or make her feel unsafe. 

"I am, yeah," she affirmed, nodding her head with a smushed cheek against his shoulder. 

"M'brave girl," he praised her, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before drawing away and urging her to pull back. "I've got something new I want to do with you tonight, then, too." 

"Okay," she nodded, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth as she fought to maintain the eye contact she knew he was looking for. 

He shifted his hold on her, his forearm still barred around her back while his other hand pet at her waist in gentle runs. "Have y'ever heard of a safe word before?" 

Her response was a simple shake of her head. If Harry hadn't taught it to her, chances are, she'd never heard of it or understood what it meant if she had. 

Nodding his head, (Y/N) watched as the curls huddled over his shoulders. "Since y'want to do some rougher things with me tonight, I think we should have a safe word or try out a color system," he continued, voice soft between the two of them, "'S jus' something for both of us, to make sure we both feel comfortable and safe. If either of us say our safeword, then everything stops. We go back to cuddling and loving on one another, no matter what we were doing before. Y'can tell me to stop still, no matter what and I'll listen, but this can jus' be something else we have that we can use. " 

(Y/N) listened intently to his explanation, nodding her head as he finished though she wasn't completely clear on all the details. "What's a color system?" 

Harry rolled the question around in his head, tilting his head as if wracking his brain for the right answer. "'S like a stoplight, kind of. There's green, letting each other know we both feel good and that we can keep going. There's yellow, which means we need to slow down, that we still want to keep going but need a breather. And there's red, which is the same as saying stop. No questions or anything, jus' a complete stop and we start treating each other gently again." 

"Oh, okay." The idea sounded simple enough, (Y/N) figured. She liked the idea that if H didn't like something they ended up doing tonight, that he could ask her to stop or slow down. And, she could ask for a breather if need be, though she couldn't imagine Harry doing anything that would push her too far to step out of green territory.

The edges of Harry's lips fought to curve into a smile as she gazed at her. "Yeah? Do you like that idea?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, a nod of her head accompanying the sound, "I like the colors." 

His hand on her waist slid up the curve of her side before landing on the ladder of her ribs. "What's your color right now, then, love?" 

She didn't even have to think before he bounced in his lap (a move that had Harry's thighs tense and grip pulse), "Green—I'm green."

"Me too, baby," he mused before craning his neck and pressing his lips to her, falling back on the mattress and taking her with him, "I'm going to be checking in on you a few times tonight, okay? Whenever we do something new, I want to know your color and make sure you're okay." 

"Okay," she whispered against his kiss, her arms around his neck tightening with the curls tickling the insides, "And you'll tell me if you're not green anymore?" 

(Y/N) felt his smile more than she saw it as he nudged his nose against hers, "I will, angel. I promise." 

Catching her lips in a kiss, Harry took his time working her into the dreamy state she had been in out in the living room, helping her find her pliant state with his tongue in her mouth and hands on her waist. (Y/N) followed after him, lips parted and allowing sweeps of his tongue to run through her mouth with sucks of her bottom lip into his mouth, her chest pressed to his as she breathed in deep runs when she had the chance. 

Her knees were braced on either side of his hips when Harry adjusted his hold and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hang on," he murmured against her kiss before tightening his grip and rolling them over to end with him on top. 

Careful to keep the full brunt of his weight from sinking into her, Harry allowed himself to lean into her form, pining her to the mattress. His mouth on hers slowed to gentle kisses, only the tip of his tongue running along the seam of her lips as he seemingly waited for any change in her response to the heavy handed contact. The only one garnered came in the form of her arms around his neck shifting to allow her fingers to sift through the curls of his hair. 

This what what she had been imagining, she thought as she sighed into the contact; he was being as gentle as ever, kissing her sweetly and reminding her how loved she was by him, with the breath-stealing weight of his body pinning her down to ensure he got to keep doing as he pleased for as long as he felt. She hadn't been thinking when she bucked her hips upwards when she felt his arms looped around her waist tighten and draw an arch into her back. 

A hum rumbled through his chest, her core having pressed right against the ridge of his cock. His kissing turned a touch harsher, something punishing lingering on the outskirts of the contact as he smeared his mouth over her own before pulling away. The heat of his breathing was felt against her skin as he stayed close enough to touch the tip of his nose to hers. "Be good, baby," he told her, his arms around her waist shifting to cup the bones of her hips in his palms, "Stay still and let me take care of y'like y'promised you'd let me." 

Her breathing hitched at his words, the measured pacing she had started with now coming out in a huffed pant through squeezed lungs. "Okay, sorry," she squeaked.

"Don't be sorry," he hummed, nudging her face to the side with the help of his nose, "Jus' be good like I know y'are, yeah?" 

While Harry kissed down the planes of her face, following the line of her jaw before planting a garden of kisses along the curve of her throat, (Y/N) tried to find her head. She'd lost it the second Harry wrapped her hair in his fist on the couch and it seemed to only run farther and farther away every time the stern tone of his voice rang through her head. Velvet covered steel, she thought, affection carrying the words out of his mouth though he made sure to let her know she was going to be sticking to her word of letting him call every single shot for the night. 

It was Harry this time that ground their hips together, his cock pushing against her legging covered core. (Y/N) did her best to keep from reciprocating the strokes of his hips, her thighs tensing on either side of him with her hands in his hair tightening as if to work out that energy that called for her to ask for more from him. 

"Feel me, love?" he murmured, his teeth scraping at the ledge of her collarbone as he dug his hips harder into her softness. 

"Uh-huh," she keened, her mouth falling into a gape with her cheek smushed against the soft of his pillow under her head. 

"So hard for y'already, angel. That's what happens when you're good for me." He praised her as he drew away from the column of her throat. One of his hands abandoned station on her hip, his palm cradling her cheek as he nudged her to face him. His hand still on her cheek, he pet his thumb over the height of her cheekbone, "Ready to give me more?"

He gazed down at her with eyes that reminded her of the tone of his voice: stern steel and velveteen affection. His lips were slicked with spit and shone in the limited light offered by the lamp on the night stand before he trapped the bottom one between his teeth, gaze shifting to where she could feel the imprint of his kiss on her neck. 

Her response came out as an absent hum of confirmation, the noise vibrating through her throat where she could still feel the ghost of his warmth working over the skin. A short smile made its way over his mouth, molding his features into something soft before dotting a kiss on her cheek. He shifted over her, drawing away and leaving her to face the chill without his body covering hers. 

"C'mere, lovebug," he crooned, tugging her along with him until he was sat at the edge of the mattress with (Y/N) following. He pinned his gaze on her as she kneed over the fluff of the duvet, stopping her before she could get too comfortable. Reaching for a pillow that bordered the headboard, he said, "Why don't y'get on your knees for me, baby." 

(Y/N) watched as he placed the pillow on the floor, filling the space between his legs that was left as he spread them open to allow her to kneel between. She swallowed, following his tender-toned instructions as she climbed off the bed and sat back on her heels, knees cushioned by the pillow. With her bottom lip trapped between the blunt of her teeth, (Y/N) gazed up at Harry from where she sat, her skin heating when she found his eyes already pinned to her. 

He towered over her from where he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands spanning the thick of his thighs, black nails gleaming like the matching hoops pierced through his lip and nose. 

"Comfortable, love?" he crooned to her, reaching out and passing his fingers through the baby-fine hairs that fell over her forehead. 

"Mhm," she smiled, leaning into his hand, "Thank you for the pillow."

The edges of his lips curled into a softened smile, his hand settling into a cradle on her cheek. "Of course, baby. 'M going to be a little rough tonight, not mean." 

(Y/N) turned her head in his hand, lips level with the warmth of his palm where she pressed a kiss to the center. The ink of Harry's pupils, though still harboring a heat that was going to take some effort on (Y/N)'s part to extinguish, practically turned to rounded hearts as he gazed down at her. She watched through the frame of her lashes as he curled over, his other hand abandoning his thigh and settling along the line of her jaw.

"Give me a kiss, angel," he cooed to her, bending down far enough that his hair haloed around then with her face cupped between his palms. 

It didn't take much of a thought before (Y/N) complied with his request, bouncing on her heels. She earned a breathy laugh from Harry was fanned over her skin before he sealed his mouth over hers in a soft kiss. He parted her lips gently with his own, allowing her only a taste of his tongue before he was drawing away once again, thumbs petting at her cheekbones. 

"M'angel girl," he murmured before kissing at the corner of her mouth. He unfurled himself from around her, sitting with his hips at the edge of the mattress and his gaze pinned on his love. He only dropped her eyes when he began messing with the fastenings on his pants, fingers working right at (Y/N)'s eye level. 

Watching intently, (Y/N) felt her breathing shift. The air in her lungs suddenly felt heavy as she followed the track his fingers were tracing until the glimpse of white boxers she'd seen before turned into a full-fledged show as he parted his fly and left it gaping. The outline of his cock was clear as day through the straining fabric, precum just beginning to seep out and thin the opacity of his underwear. 

"Understand, angel?"

(Y/N) watched as Harry's hands stopped working, the black on his nails glimmering in the glowing light from the lamp. His tone was deep and graveled as it caught her attention, (Y/N) realizing her hadn't heard a single word of what she was supposed to be understanding. 

"W-What?" she stuttered, looking up at Harry with her eyes rounding out from the hard edges that shaped his features. 

He canted his head as he looked at her, the edges of his lips fighting off a tilt. "Y'weren't listening to me, baby?" 

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a beat, eyes falling from his matching gaze back down to his lap in a fleeting sweep. "I was distracted," she peeped, "Sorry." 

Shaking his head, Harry took her face between his hands, barring her from looking anywhere but himself as he curled forward once more. "Remember what I said? Don't have to be sorry, love, jus' be good. Okay?" 

"Okay," she repeated through puffed lips, nodding her head as best she could in his hold.

Harry indulged himself in a short kiss to her lips before he resumed his position and worked his pants down his hips, budging up until the material sat at the mid of his thighs. "Was telling y'that I want y'to remember that 'm being rough tonight, but not mean to you. We're gonna try something a little different this time, and I want y'to tell me if y'want to stop. Since y'won't have much room to speak, our colors aren't going to work. But, what y'can do for me, is tap my leg three times, and that's how I'll know y'want to stop. Do y'understand this time, angel?" 

Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) willed herself to look away from the tented fabric of his boxers. "Y-Yeah, I do, Harry," she said, nodding her head. It took effort for her to look away from the way his cock jumped as her voice wrapped around his name. 

Breathing stilted but the smug curve of his lips remained as Harry looked down at her with affectionate approval floating in his eyes. "Good girl," he praised. 

Shuffling on her knees, (Y/N) couldn't help herself but draw closer when she saw his hand settle on the waistband of his underwear. Harry's breathy laugh of so eager, falling on deaf ears as she watched the way his fingers curled into the stitched band and tugged and tugged until his boxers joined his pants at the midpoint of his thighs. 

Watching his cock bob against his tattooed stomach, (Y/N) felt just as she did the first time she got on her knees for him. Though his tattoos continued down under his bellybutton, clusters of flora that matched the rosegarden of his chest piece, she always thought the laurels etched into his hips—a pair he had gotten long before he decided to cover his skin—acted as the perfect frame for him in moments like these. The ruddy head stood out starkly against the black ink, the veined underside on display as he further widened his legs for (Y/N) to take her place between before she reached for his pants and tugged them off the rest of the way, leaving him in only the tatters of his Rolling Stones top.

Just as he always did since the first time he had her like this, Harry wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, giving her a show as he stroked over his length in slow runs. (Y/N) knew that if she had it in her to tear her eyes away from the sight of his tattooed hand jerking over his cock, she would find Harry with a smug smile his lips, moments away from teasing her over her rapt attention. 

"C'mere, angel," Harry murmured to her, his hand still stroking with his thumb running over the tip. 

(Y/N) worked on autopilot, shuffling closer to him, tattooed thighs on either side of her head with the slick sounds of his hand running over his cock filling her ears. Her breathing came out in shaky exhales, a blurt of precum bubbling at Harry's tip once she was close enough for the air to fan over the heated skin. 

"Open for me," he directed, voice low and strong. 

Tongue out, (Y/N) opened her mouth, finally sparing a glance to Harry's face from where he sat above her. His cheeks were now flushed, the tip of his tongue pressed into the hoop of his lip ring, the metal bobbing. He looked down at her, attention pinned to the way she heeded his commands as soon as they fell from his lips. Once he caught her eyes on him, the very corners of his lips turned upward in a small smile, her eyes rounded out and mooning up at him with her mouth open just for him. 

"'Member what I told you?" he asked, pressing the tip of his prick into the flat of her tongue, a pearl of precum dragging across the buds in a tease, "'Bout telling me if y'need to stop?" 

(Y/N) nodded her head as best she could without disrupting Harry as he stroked himself over her tongue. She watched as he shook his head, the curtain of his hair swaying at the motion. 

"No," he settled, "Need to hear y'say it." 

He backed off just enough to not allow her the excuse of pleasuring him to stop her from answering him how he wanted. Swallowing around her dry throat, (Y/N) eagerly nodded her head once more, "I do—I remember, daddy." 

His hand stuttered over his length at the sound of the title. "Good girl, angel," he praised, voice strained. 

Harry reached his freehand around to thread his fingers through her hair, bringing her close to his cock, her mouth falling open on instinct. He guided her with a firm hand, though careful to be gentle with the strands of hair in his fist, pushing the head of his prick into the warmth of her mouth. Upon contact, pearls of precum glazing over her tongue, (Y/N)'s eyes fell closed. 

A heavy sigh fell from Harry's lips. As much as (Y/N) wanted to peek up at him, see the gape of his raspberry lips and the pinkened flush to his skin, she couldn't bring herself to leave the land of HarryHarryHarry that puddled in her system as the weight of his cock settled over her tongue. 

If she was being honest, this act—taking him in her mouth—was one of her favorites. Ever since the first time she got on her knees for him, she understood why Harry wanted to spend so much time between her thighs. In an odd sense, she felt comforted by it all; his hands laced through her hair or holding her own, the weight of his fingers or cock in her mouth, and the cradle of his body enveloping her no matter the position. Not to mention the butterflies that ran rampant in her tummy as she listened to his moans and sighs of her name, knowing that she was making him feel as good as she possibly could with nothing else but her mouth and her will to please him. So, she definitely did not mind that this was how he wanted to start his birthday night off with her. 

(Y/N) fell into her rhythm, bobbing her head along his length with her tongue following after in drags over his cock. Harry's hand served as little more than a reassuring weight on the back of her head, his fingers momentarily tightening and shifting in the strands the farther she took him in. Her breathing came in pants through her nose, growing heavier and heavier the longer she sucked him off. Once she felt comfortable enough, her movements easing and becoming more and more languid as she became used to the feel of him sliding in her mouth, she took him further, the very tip of his prick edging towards the tight funnel of her throat with the pillow of her tongue contracting underneath. 

It was then that Harry's thighs tensed on either side of her head, the crown of his prick jumping against her tongue with a strangled call of his favorite pet name for her—angel, of course—fell from his lips. As much of a struggle as it was, (Y/N) pried her eyes open, though still hooded, and peeked up at Harry through her lashes.

She found him with his gaze already fixed to her, eyes inky black and skin flushed with a gleam of sweat collecting on his temples. The tattered fabric of his top allowed for insight into the way his inked chest contracted as his lungs filled and compressed, tattoos dancing over his skin. Gosh, the view from here—sitting under him, saliva and precum coating her lips—as she watched him fall in love with her mouth was something she wouldn't forget. 

As soon as Harry caught sight of her gaze searching him over, something shifted. His hand in her hair tightened. The roots of the strands were tugged in a gentle pull as his fingers flexed, the line of Harry's jaw strengthening as he gazed down at her. 

"Gonna let me be in charge now, love? Ready for me?" he asked her, voice dripping in honey-thick lust and drenched in rocky gravel. Just as (Y/N) was going to settle for a nod of her head to tell him yes, she was tugged off his cock, a slick noise filling the air as the head of his prick popped out of her mouth. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw a string of her spit linking the full of her bottom lip to the tip of his cock, the salvia bowing before dropping against her chin as he drew her back. Her breathing came in broken heaves, lips glossed and eyes wide. Desperate to have him back in her mouth, feel the base of his cock under hands and his tip at the back of her throat, (Y/N) nodded her head in jerky motions. "Ye-Yes, I'm ready, daddy." 

A pleased smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the ring pierced at the edge of his mouth bobbing at the motion. "And what will y'do if y'need me to stop?" 

Through her hazed mind, (Y/N) wracked her brain in search of the vital piece of information he shared not even ten minutes earlier. "I-I'll tap your leg, right? Three times, and that means red—that I want to stop." 

Bringing his free hand that had been wrapped in the fabric of his comforter down to cradle her jaw, Harry wiped the pad of his thumb over her swollen bottom lip, disregarding the spit and precum that pearled over the skin. The curve of his lips turned proud as he gazed down at her. "Exactly, angel. M'brave girl, aren't you?" 

As silly as it was, she felt a bit bashful under these praises as she lent her cheek into his hand. "I'm trying to be." 

Harry only shook his head, the loose curls around his face swaying in agreement. "You are, darling." Before she could utter any kind of protest, Harry folded over himself and pressed a kiss to her swollen lips, the peck innocent despite the fact his naked bottom half was inches from (Y/N)'s face and shining in her spit. 

When he unfurled himself from the cove his body made around her, he gave a gentle graze of his thumb over her cheek before he lent back into that same hand that was now planted on the mattress behind him. That left him sitting over (Y/N) with his hand in her hair and a lazy smile on his mouth. It didn't take much coaxing her for her to follow along with his guiding hand as he tugged her forward, bringing her back to his cock. 

As much as she wanted to surge ahead, take him back into the warmth of her mouth and feel the weight of the head on her tongue and the vine of his vein brushing over her lips, she allowed him to be in charge just like he said. Just as in everything else he did, Harry started gently. He worked her over his length in familiar motions, the same pace she had been curating just moments before. 

It wasn't until she fell into that comforting rhythm with her eyes closed, almost taking over the motions though Harry still had a steady grip on her hair that things shifted. When her lips reached the point where she would instinctively draw back towards his tip, Harry's hand urged her to go a hair further. Her brows knitted together over her shuttered eyes though she allowed him to guide her, making a point to breath as steady as she could manage through her nose. 

With his cock just barely pushing into her throat with the head brushing past the root of her tongue, (Y/N) felt herself tighten up—tummy, insides, and throat alike—before he pulled her back, the makings of the gag that constricted her muscles ebbing away before doing any damage. He took her back to her his tip, her tongue laving over him as she took advantage of the break, breath coming in deeply through her nose as her brows relaxed again.

"Alright, baby?" Harry asked, voice low and strained. She could feel his eyes on her. 

Mouth full, (Y/N) nodded her head, humming an mhm around his length. Cracking her eyes open just a slice, she was granted a view of Harry looking at her with his gaze fixed on where her mouth was wrapped around his prick, his own bottom lip tucked tightly between his teeth. His hand behind him fisted the comforter, muscles straining and dancing under the layer of tattoos on his skin. Every bit of his unrestrained strength seemed to be going into that grip, leaving the hand in her hair stern but worlds more gentle than what he was putting that fistful of bedding through. 

Nostrils flaring as he sucked in a deep breath, Harry gauged her reaction as he urged her forward. "Gonna do it again, alright? Gonna help you take me a little deeper." 

Another hum came from her throat, Harry's thighs jumping on either side of her head. Just as before, he allowed her to get comfortable with a few passes over his prick before urging her to take him deeper, the head of his cock pushing further down her throat. A distracting moan sounded from above her, Harry's voice dredged in gravel and just as breathless as she felt. The nudge of the head at her throat was enough to make her tense up, muscles constricting around the intrusion before she could school herself into calming her reaction. Just as her breath was stolen, Harry steered her back. This time, he pulled her off his length completely, the tip popping out of her mouth, glistening in her spit with swirls of precum shining in the light. 

(Y/N) shifted on her knees, the cushion underneath them dragging over the floor. Mouth dropped into a gap, she caught her breath with Harry's hand in her hair abandoning the strands in favor of sliding over her jaw and cradling her face. As gentle as he was, the second (Y/N) blinked her bleary eyes up at him, she could tell the effort to be so, was taxing. 

"W-Why'd we stop?" she asked, words coming out around her uneven breaths. 

She watched Harry's throat bob as he swallowed, gaze struggling to keep from dropping her to spit-slicked pout. "Wanted to give you a minute. Felt y'start to gag." 

Shaking her head before he even finished, (Y/N)'s brows pinched as she looked up at him. "I don't need a minute," she said, though her ragged breathing begged to differ, "I want to keep going, daddy. I can handle it, I promise." 

It was like a movie, his reaction. Harry's muscles liquified as he took in her response; the tense in his jaw disappeared, shoulders sunk, and bunched arm muscles slackened. Even his eyelids threatened to close on him. His cock had an opposing reaction, jumping against his stomach, taking (Y/N)'s eye for a moment before she urged herself to match Harry's gaze again to let him know she was being serious. 

"Y'think y'can handle me, angel?" 

That earned him a nod in response. 

A whispered curse floated in the air between them as Harry's body came to life again, muscles tight and unforgiving. "I really hope y'can, love." 

There was less than a second for (Y/N) to process his words before he shifted on the mattress, bringing himself to the very edge of the bed and closer to her face. The hand on her jawline snaked a path back into her strands, fingers threading through the hair fluffed on the back of her head. It only took a single nudge from that grip that had (Y/N) smearing her lips in a kiss over the underside of his shaft, nose skimming his length as she worked. 

A shuddering breath wracked Harry's body, his head falling backwards with the curls of his hair falling down his shoulderblades as (Y/N) watched from under him. He recovered slowly as she kissed over the thick vein vining around his cock before meeting the ridge leading to the head, the tip on her tongue swiping over the sensitive skin. 

Though he didn't seem to have the firmest grasp on his control, Harry told her with his best stern tone, "Wh-When we start again, 'm not gonna stop, 'kay? Said y'don't need a break, so if y'decide you do need one, you've got to stick to our rule." 

Her insides warmed at his concern, no matter what, he was always going to be a worrier, even if what they were doing was her idea in the first place. She placed a single kiss to the glazed head of his prick before she drew away. "Okay, H. I understand." 

She knew that was the response he was looking for when his hand flexed in her hair and a breathless smile curled his lips. A mumbled praise fell from his lips, the words being lost on their way to her ears before she was distracted with that same tight hand in her hair. 

It was a routine by now, the way he eased her over his length. (Y/N) welcomed him with a slacked jaw and gaze peering up at him through the frame of her lashes before it became too much—she became too lost, and had to close her eyes. She waited for him, preparing herself with as even of breaths she could take through her nose as he took her further and further down his shaft. The first glance of his head on the back of her throat had her bracing herself with one of her hands landing on his leg, palm on his shin with her fingers digging into his calf. The hand in her lap became restless, clenching and unclenching with nudges of the heel of her palm brushing at the apex of her thighs. 

Harry hesitated in the rhythm he made for her, the pushing and pulling of his hand on the back of her head stilling for just a moment as a shuddering breath sounded in the quiet of their bedroom. (Y/N) peeked her eyes open at that stall, finding him gazing down at her with his bottom lip being worried between his teeth. When his eyes caught hers, lips around his prick and gaze hooded with a shine of her spit beginning to layer over her chin, (Y/N) hummed around him, her own urging him to continue without words. 

That seemed to be enough for the links of his fingers in her hair to shift, his other hand coming to join in the messy strands of her hair. He pulled her off just enough to leave the tip in her mouth as he moved over the edge of the mattress, his legs braced on either side of her with feet planted on the floor. 

(Y/N) didn't realize what he was preparing for until the first thrust of his hips upwards, his cock filling her mouth though her head stayed just where he wanted her. Her spine stiffened at the feeling, the tip of his cock pushing into the tunnel of her throat. Her instincts urged her to pull back, save herself from the jolt of the intrusion, but the soothing weight of his hand made her stay just where he wanted, savoring the pump of the vein lining the underside of his cock. Instead, she shuttered her eyes and focused on breathing through her nose, however shaky the inhales were.

"Oh, fuck," Harry breathed when he felt the snug fit of her throat grow even tighter as he held her there for a beat, hips lifted from the bed. His tattooed thighs were bunched tightly, muscles stiff and unmoving as he fought to keep from bucking his hips any more. "I-I can feel you, angel—so tight. Go-Good girl, jus' keep breathing." 

Hearing him so breathless, struggling over his words just as she was used to doing, made (Y/N)'s confidence soar as he reared back, backside settling back on the mattress and freeing her airways for a moment. Now maybe wasn't the time to pat herself on the back, but it felt nice hearing him praise her for allowing him to guide her into new territory and to please him like she wanted. With that praise floating in her head, she welcomed the next gentle strokes of his hips into her mouth, saturated cock sliding over her tongue before reaching the familiar home it was carving out in her throat. 

His voice echoed in her ears, calling her a good girl, as she took the initiative and swallowed around him each time he tucked himself far in her mouth. She kept the gagging at bay each time she swallowed, Harry's pleasure being the most rewarding side effect of the tactic.

"L-Look at you, darling," he praised her, voice filtering through gritted teeth, "Weren't lying when y'said y'could handle me, were you? Doing so good swallowing around my cock." 

If she could have, (Y/N) would have smiled at him. If she was being honest, she hadn't been completely sure of herself when she blurted out that promise—the promise that she could handle him, no breaks needed, with his prick being shoved down her throat in whichever way he saw fit. It was nice to know she hadn't been lying to him. 

Instead, she only hummed a keening noise around his length, her tummy tightening when his bucking hips stuttered in their pacing. The moment he recovered he seemed to only be spurred on by that momentary lapse, the rocking of his hips growing faster though the depth of his thrusts didn't change. (Y/N)'s grip on his leg pulsed, the coarse hair under her palm grounding her to that moment. Her blood pumped past her ears in roaring waves, almost blocking out the muttering she heard Harry doing under his breath, his fingertips tugging at the roots of her hair. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he murmured, the cursing seeming involuntary, "Letting me fuck your face—su-such a angel. Go-Gonna make me cum on your face." 

Something in her shifted at the idea of feeling his warmth spilling over her features, painting the highpoints of her face and dripping towards her open mouth. While it didn't inspire the prettiest of pictures of herself, (Y/N) could only imagine the loving praise that would fall from Harry's mouth. 

Slick sounds erupted from around her mouth as (Y/N) laved her tongue over his cock with each thrust he pushed into her mouth. She wanted that now—she wanted the picture of her decorated in his release as he praised her with hearts in his eyes and his kiss on her neck. It was with that thought that she met his hips halfway, disregarding the hands on either side of her face. 

She fixed her concentration onto the pacing of her breathing and the air filtering through her nose as she pushed herself further than Harry had done himself. Harry's own surprise was documented in the way his hips stuttered, stilling as he let her swallow as much of him as she pleased. With her focus on keeping her head from the clouds, (Y/N) didn't even realize just how far she has taken him, how much of his prick has pushed through her mouth, until the tip of her nose grazed the thatch of hair bordering his base. 

With her head moments from floating up into clouds she couldn't even fathom reaching, she realized just how surrounded she was by him; heavy hands in her hair, his length down her throat, thighs on either side of her head with her own hand wrapped around his ankle. The sound of his harsh breathing took over the room, choked and muffled with curse words thrown into the mix as her throat constricted around him and took the little bit of clarity he had left in his brain. 

(Y/N) held herself there for as long as she could stand. Her breathing was stilted, only the smallest amounts of air clearing to her lungs with her eyes watering and head growing cloudier and cloudier the longer she stayed there. His cock pulsed over her tongue, the vein along the bottom throbbing, balls tucked tight against his base with her chin nudging against them. 

He was going to cum, now, right? She probably needed to pull off and let him finish on her face, just like she wanted, but that sounded like too much work in the momen—

It wasn't until she felt Harry's hands in her hair change, his grip stiffening with fingers tight. He pulled her off as gently as he could manage in the moment, the sting at her roots bringing a ping of welcomed clarity when she was pushed back on her heels at his feet. 

Before she could peel her eyes open, Harry's hands in her hair disappeared, the sound of the mattress depressing filled the space between them as she fought for her breath. Finally finding the energy to blink her eyes open, she found Harry laid back on the bad, chest heaving as he sucked in lungfuls of air and his arms splayed out at his sides. 

A breathless, hoarse laugh fell from her lips as she climbed onto the bed beside him. His eyes were closed with his dark curls haloed around his head, lips pink and puffy just like his cheeks. 

"Harry?" she asked, her voice coming out as a croak. She really did take him deep, didn't she?

"Give me a minute," he whispered, sounding exhausted despite his cock still hard between his legs. 

A beat passed as she fought with herself to not throw her leg over his hips and straddle him, wanting him to take full advantage of the moment he was asking for. Was this his red?

"Are you okay?" she asked after a moment, itching to pull his shirt off and place her hands over his chest, dent her fingers into the garden of tattoos on his skin.

It took a minute before Harry seemed to urge his eyes open, the jade green of his irises drained to a forest shade that rivaled the black of his expanded pupils. He took her in, his gaze tracing over her features in slow runs as he took his time. 

"Angel," he started, voice thick, "Y'deepthroated me, and you're wondering if 'm okay?" 

(Y/N) canted her head at his words. She didn't know there was a special word for what just happened.

A breathy laugh fell from his lips as he smiled up at her. "'M perfect, baby," he said, "Had to make y'stop or I was gonna cum, and I haven't even fucked you yet." 

His eyes fell closed again as he sunk his head into the mattress, almost in disbelief at the beginning of the night's events. His tongue peeked out, the tip lining the full of his bottom lip before nudging the ring pierced through the side, his breathing still less than even. (Y/N) couldn't help herself as she watched him, reaching out and dragging a careful finger at the bottom of his shirt, pulling the hem upwards. More and more of his middle was revealed as she dragged her hands over his body: glistening tattoos pasted over tensed muscles, the pink tint to his skin that colored the designs between the black lines, and what she could have sworn was his heart thumping out his chest as she trailed her hand over him. 

Suddenly, just as she was getting close enough to possibly pull the shirt from his body completely, a tattooed hand complete with black painted nails reached out and grabbed for her wrist. Laying her gaze over his form, she traced the column of his neck and the hard line of his jaw until she found his darkened gaze pinned right to her and a smug smile on his lips. 

"No, not yet, love," he stopped her, edging her hand back down his body and pulling his shirt along with them in the process, "I don't think 's fair for me to be the only one naked on m'birthday." 

No wonder she felt so hot, (Y/N) realized. She was fully clothed, a pair of leggings that felt more like an hindrance than anything comfortable still wrapped around her legs and the slouchy sweater she couldn't believe made it through the night. 

Another breathy laugh came from Harry as he watched her reaction, his own hand landing on the thick of her legging covered thigh. He slid up the length of her leg before finding the rounded curve of her bottom from where she sat on her heels. He patted the soft curve, urging her towards the edge of the bed. 

"Go on, love," he crooned, "Get undressed for me, yeah? Wanna look at you." 

That was all it took for him to earn an eager nod of her head and a scramble of her limbs towards the edge. Another deep chuckle sounded from behind her as she landed on the flat of her feet, socks padding over the rug. She could feel his eyes on her back as she raced to join him, to shed layers of clothing that did nothing but keep her from feeling her Harry.

Her shirt was the first to go, leaving only a sheer, white triangle bralette to cover her chest before her leggings and socks were second to join the pile on the floor. The matching pair of panties tucked between her thighs did little to conceal the effect sucking his cock had on her, a wet patch darkening the delicate material. (Y/N) adjusted the cheeky cut of her underwear with her back to Harry, dipping her fingers beneath the waistline of it just as she heard him let out a low whistling exhale behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, (Y/N) furrowed her brows until she found Harry sitting up with his gaze pinned on her, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and a teasing look in his eyes that matched the tugs at the corner of his lips. "What?" she asked with a smile to her tone. 

Harry shook his head with a lopsided smile and single dimple denting his cheek. "Nothing, jus' like looking at you." 

She couldn't help herself before she was climbing onto his lap, core brushing his uncovered cock. Though a shiver ran up her spine, she didn't lose her smile as she straddled his hips and held his jaw in her hands. 

"You're not supposed to be saying stuff like that tonight, H. Its your birthday, so I'm supposed to be telling you how cute you are." Her argument was punctuated with a brief kiss to his lips, the contact soft and innocent despite the feral way her lips got so swollen in the first place. 

His head tilted in her hands, a teasingly pouted look on his face. "'M only cute? Y'take me all the way down your throat, and all I am is cute to you?"

A blurt of laughter fell from her lips at his reasoning, her hands on his face falling so she could wrap around his shoulders in a hug with her face tucked into his neck. "You can't say it like that," she giggled into his neck, lips brushing the tattoos she hoped would one day include a pair of angel's wings. 

"Why not?" he countered, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady as he jostled at her sudden hug, "That's what happened, right?" 

"Shhh," she teased, shaking her head as best she could in his neck. She melted in his hold, his arm around her waist and his chest against hers being the main things keeping her upright in that moment. Her next words came out in a whisper though her smile was still audible, "You're handsome, too, you know." 

She felt his laugh more than she heard it as it rumbled his chest. "I am?" 

"Mhm, not just cute," she explained, fingers splayed across the warm expanse of his back. She hesitated around her next words, drawing herself closer to him as if she could hide in his arms, "I—um—And, I think you're sexy." 

This earned her a full laugh that rumbled his chest and spilled over her bare shoulder as he held her. "You know," he said, falling back onto the mattress with her lying atop him, "I don't think I've ever heard y'say that about me—call me sexy, I mean." 

Her cheeks were hot as she tried to press closer to him. "Harry, I'm trying. Be nice," she whined, though her pout held little impact through her impending smile. 

"I am, I am," he argued, turning his face in an effort to press his lips against her temple, "Jus' think 's cute, that's all. I like that y'think 'm sexy." 

Hearing the word fall from his lips sounded much less juvenile than it did in her own voice. "Well, I do—I do think that," she whispered into his neck, dotting the skin with a kiss.

"I know, cutie," he murmured to her, words as gentle as his tone. He shifted over the bed with her, the comforter ruffling around them as he turned to her with the tip of his nose skimming her skin, "C'mere and give me a kiss." 

(Y/N) didn't take much coaxing before she listened to his instruction, drawing away from the warm home she made in his neck. Her mouth was smoothed over his in a moment, her bottom lip tucked between his two. She melted into the contact with a sigh that was swallowed by her Harry, her contentment coating over his tongue as he swiped it across her own after parting her mouth. Her arms she had fit around his shoulders kept her stable once she realized Harry was shifting under her, having become too lost in their kiss—the first real taste of him she'd had since retreating from her spot on her knees—to notice him rolling them over until her back was flat on the mattress. 

His arms were a cage around her before they retreated, the ruffled black duvet coming up in tufts around her body as she sunk into her skin, warm and pliant as he moved her. Her head came to rest on the pillows bordering the headboard, black silk cradling her head and splaying delicate strands of hair across the fabric. Harry drew away from her kiss, leaving (Y/N) with uneven breathing and heated cheeks. With delicate hands that had landed on either side of her head once he moved her, he plucked those rogue hairs off her face, disentangling them from her lashes and pulling pieces that stuck to the slick of her lips. His fingers moved like his eyes, delicately over her features in praising grazes of contact. A slow smile made its home on his lips, dimples deep and sweet in his cheeks. 

"You're so pretty, you know that?" he murmured, his voice dreamy and quiet like a secret, as if his prick wasn't pressing into the soft of her tummy, precum decorating the skin. "M'dream girl." 

He knew exactly the effect that specific compliment would grant him: a bashful smile, a flutter of her lashes, and a turn of her head towards her shoulder as if she couldn't handle being under his loving gaze any longer though she lived for the affection in his eyes. That's why he loved saying it—other than the fact that it was the truth, of course. 

"Stop, you're going to make me cry," she teasingly complained, threading her fingers through his hair. 

The smile on his lips only grew at her faux complaint. "You're right," he hummed, shaking his head, "Can't have y'crying jus' yet—that's for after I've had m'way with you, right?" 

She seemed to go speechless at his words, throat dry as she tried to imagine the kind of pleasure carting through her body that would elicit tears. Maybe he noticed the way her breathing hitched or the ratcheting of her pulse under the delicate skin of her neck, but Harry looked all too smug as he took her in. 

"Yeah? Like that idea?" he mused, dropping his head to kiss just where her blood was pumping at a hammering pace in her throat. He shifted over her as he did so, his cock pressing into her tummy, balls hitting her clit with a pressure that made his own prick jump and (Y/N)'s stomach tighten with a too-tight ribbon around her middle. 

In a shy nod, (Y/N) admitted her interest in the idea of being driven to tears by his touch alone. Taking advantage of the hiding place he offered with his bared neck and broad, tattooed shoulder, she whispered into his skin, "H-How would you make me cry?" 

The air in his lungs seemed to be heavy as he exhaled slowly, the air fanning over her skin. "Want me to tell you, or show you?" 

It only took a split second for her to make up her mind.

"Show me." 

A grumbled sigh of approval shook Harry's chest. His smile could be felt against the line of her jaw just before he drew back from her form. Escaping the hold of her thighs, Harry maneuvered to sit back on his heels between her legs. Running a heavy hand through his hair, he looked entirely too satisfied his gaze racked over her form. 

"Turn over for me, lovebug," he commanded, voice gentle and forgiving despite the steely suggestion. 

(Y/N) hesitated for only a moment, her eyes rounding out as she looked up at him with confusion swimming through her irises, before listening to his instruction. Backing up, he gave her space to sprawl over the bedding before she settled with her tummy against the mattress and her cheek smushed into the black satin pillowcase. Her body felt restless with Harry's presence hovering just behind her, the bed giving way under him as he made careful work of spreading her legs and settling himself on his heels between them once again. He'd never asked her to do something like this before, to lay in a position like this. 

With that thought, a stoplight pinged in (Y/N)'s head. 

Lifting her head from the pillow, and looking at Harry over her shoulder, she asked, "W-What's your color?" 

She just barely caught the way a smile bloomed over his features in a slow tug from the corner of her eye. Planting his fists on either side of her waist, Harry lent forward with that same tender grin and dropped a kiss to the full of her heated cheek once he was close enough. 

"'M so green, angel," he crooned into her skin, the full of his lips grazing her cheek, "What's your color, hm?" 

Nodding her head as best she could, she reveled in the familiar contact of his mouth pressing into her skin. "Green—I'm a little nervous because I don't think we've done something like this before, but I have good butterflies over it." 

His smile only grew at her explanation, the curve felt against her skin one more time before he dropped another kiss and lent back. "Good," he murmured, "Tell me if your butterflies change then, alright? We only want the good ones." 

Another nod of her head came as she sunk back into the black cased pillow, her cheek smushing into the down. "I will, daddy." 

Harry's eyes could be felt dragging over her skin as (Y/N) allowed herself to melt into the bedding with eyes closed. Despite the butterflies over the new position, she was comforted by the reminder that this was her Harry. He was going to take good care of her, no doubt. 

"Y'look so pretty spread out like this, you know that?" he mused, "You're right, I think. I've never had you on your tummy like this before, have I?" Though she was sure it was a rhetorical question, one of his musings he put out into the world for no other reason than to fluster her, she still hummed an agreement and shook her head as best she could. Harry hummed in response, his hands coming to lay on the backs of her thighs, palms warm and heavy over the soft skin. They made a teasing pass over the skin, his fingertips brushing against the crease where her thighs met her ass and lingered for only a second before repeating the trek downwards to safer territory over her skin. "Thinking I should do it more often, though, don't you think?" 

At this point, with his hands tracing a trail over her skin and his voice reverberating in her ears and echoing through her system, (Y/N) was sure he could suggest anything and she'd agree whole-heartedly, no questions asked. That was how easy it was for him to earn a nod of her head and a keening confirmation that she loved where his mind was going as he gazed at her body.

His appraisal of her body lingered for moments longer, Harry muttering praises beneath his breath that had her skin heating and tummy turning just before he stopped with his hands on her sides. His fingers wedged themselves between her hips and the bed before giving a gentle tug. "Budge up for me, angel." 

Lifting her hips, she did as told while Harry reached for a pillow laid askew on his side the bed. The plush square was folded beneath her hips, helping to prop her up as she let her weight sink into the down and the bent knees she planted on the bed. Her body was presented to him with her ass up and pussy on display with the help of her spread legs, the damp patch she felt clinging to her form no longer hidden. 

"This alright?" he asked her, refitting himself behind her, the slope of her body allowing only an obstructed view of him now. 

His question earned a quiet nod of her head, her breathing hitching when she felt the press of his hard cock on the inside of her thigh. 

"Still green?" 

"Still green, daddy." 

He hummed as he allowed his hands to settle on her raised hips, fingers splayed across the soft of her skin. It only took a moment for those same fingers to wiggle their way underneath the waistband of her panties, the cheeky cut of the fabric digging into the cheeks of her bottom. 

"Wish y'could see how pretty y'look for me like this," Harry murmured, his gaze burning almost as hot as his hands on her skin, "Got your ass up in my face like 's m'birthday present. Best birthday I've ever had, that's for sure." 

Absently, (Y/N) felt her back arch at his words, presenting herself to him in a way she hoped would garner more praise from her position. If he liked her butt, she wanted to make sure she gave him every bit of the present she was being described as. 

A breathy laugh was heard from behind her before the exhale fanned over her heated skin, the amused sound being punctuated with a whispered cutie, falling under Harry's breath. He stayed quiet then as he took her in, his hands under the line of her panties shifting until his heavy palms groped at her bottom. The inside of (Y/N)'s thigh grew wet as a blurt of precum leaked over the skin. 

"Y'like showing off for me like this?" Harry asked, a mocking edge to his tone that made the butterflies in her tummy sing and flutter, "Showing me your cute little ass and wet pussy though your panties?" 

Her lungs twisted, unable to hold much air in them as she listened to Harry. She hadn't quite thought of it as showing off when she arched her back for him, but maybe there was something to be said about the way she lent back into his touch and only wanted to do more—show more for him and see if he liked it just as much as this view. 

Harry exhaled another laugh when she pushed back against his hands. The motion caused his hands to graze over her backside, fingertips denting the delicate flesh and thumbs hooking into the fabric of her panties. Her underwear collected on the webbing between his thumb as forefinger, the clinging material following after him and pulling up tight against her bottom. (Y/N)'s breathing hitched when she stopped, Harry having taken over and tugged at her underwear until the fabric was bunched tight between her cheeks, showing off the full of her ass. 

(Y/N) fell still under his hands as one of them disappeared, the mattress depressing by her feet where she assumed he had planted his fist in the bed. That left one of his hands on her body. His palm lazily dragged over the waistband of her panties, a low breath being let out behind her as Harry's fist wrapped around her underwear, just above where majority of the fabric was bunched between the split in her backside. Even the front of her panties was tugged back, the outline of her slit clear as day through the sodden fabric as it was retched back. 

His grip tightened until all that was seen was a white sliver in the cleft of her bottom, a satisfied hum sounding from Harry at the view. 

"Knew y'liked showing off for me," he drawled, voice thick and heavy as he gripped her panties tighter and pulled just a hair on the waistband, the fabric beginning to wedge itself between the folds of her pussy. A sharp jolt was delivered through her system as her underwear pressed unforgivingly against her clit before Harry let up on the tug, her thighs relaxing now. "I don't blame you," Harry continued, knocking (Y/N) out of her stupor that even stopped her from breathing, "not at all, angel. Y'have such a pretty body, no reason to hide it—especially from me." 

The free hand she figured was planted by her feet returned as his thumb appeared at the apex between her thighs. The pad of his finger pushed against the clear split outlined through her underwear, trailing up and down in the same teasing runs he delivered when he was grazing her bare skin. He prodded gently at where he knew her weeping hole was, (Y/N) jumping when she felt the brush of her panties being pushed against her tight opening. Harry soothed her in quiet coos as he moved onto the top of her slit, where her clit was bundled against her fabric. 

"Gonna whine for me again if I touch y'here?" he murmured, the tip of his thumb just barely pushing against her clit as he spoke. 

The only response he got was a wet gasp as her mouth popped open, unable to suck in enough air in anticipation. 

He didn't hesitate then to smear the pad of his thumb over her covered pearl, the sticky fabric wetting his finger. Just as he suspected, (Y/N) felt her body sag at the relief of feeling something pressing into her—anything giving her the kind of pleasure she'd been aching for since she found herself at Harry's feet. 

Harry played with her, grazing over her in light circles that barely allowed anything to register other than the lingering brushes of his thumb. (Y/N) was only halfway aware of the arch to her back and the way she pressed back against him in hopes of earning more of his touch. She could have cried the second she felt his hand retreat, all the pleasure and the warmth leaving along with him. 

"H-Harr—" (Y/N) was cut off by her own moan, the second half of his name dying on her tongue when she felt a soft smack of his hand laying across her center. 

"Angel," Harry hummed, both hands now soothing the back of her thighs as if to make up for the momentary sting delivered to her most delicate parts. "Wanna tell me your color?" 

Her answer struggled its way through her throat, the priority of breathing taking precedent in that moment. The lag seemed to worry Harry as his presence behind her shifted, his hand landing on the outside of her thighs before he hovered over her back, necklace dragging cross the knobs of her spine. He was closer now as she could tell by the heat seeping into her skin from his chest and the rumble of his voice into her ear.

"'S okay if 's not green, okay? Tell me how y'feel and we'll work together to make y'feel good, remember?" 

Something akin to panic tugged at her tummy. He thought she didn't like it, didn't want that hot rush that followed after his hand departed from her pussy. He thought she wanted to stop—or slow down, or anything that wasn't continuing exactly what he started. 

"No, no," she rushed, shaking her head, eyes cinched shut with her cheek pressed into the down of his silken pillow, "I'm green, I'm green! I liked that—d-don't stop, please, daddy." 

Harry's breathing changed, the even paced exhales and silent inhales disappearing in a hitch. "Y'liked that, angel? Promise?" 

"I-I promise," she agreed as quick as she could get out the words, "I liked it, daddy." 

A kiss was draped to the cuff of her shoulder before Harry dragged himself away, taking his seat back between her legs. His hands on her thighs rounded to the backside again, one trailing dangerously close to where (Y/N) swore she could feel a flutter of a faux-heartbeat. His honey-thick gaze was almost as tangible as the hands she felt on her as she waited. 

"Then, I guess I'll jus' have to do it again, won't I, angel? Can't say no to you when you've been so good, telling me all your colors and being so sweet letting me be rough with you. 'S the least I can do to spank your pussy like y'like, isn't it?" 

Gosh, when he says it like that... She definitely had a second heartbeat. 

Before she could even form any kind of plea, she felt the loss of his hand on the back of her thigh before a swift smack was delivered to the softness between her legs. A gasp escaped her lips, body jolting at the extra bit of strength he added to this particular swat. A moment of reprieve was granted in the way Harry bent over and pressed a kiss to the curve of her bottom, his once offending hand now running laps along the back of her thigh in soothing runs. She knew she must have calmed down enough on the outside when Harry retreated, leaving only one hand on her thigh and the other waiting to deliver what (Y/N) was beginning to crave. 

A third swift spank came with a soft thump of his palm against her pussy, this one the hardest of the trio though still extremely gentle, Harry using the barest amount of his strength. (Y/N) arched her back at the contact, her clit throbbing in the aftermath. Her body vibrated like a cymbal for a moment as she didn't even attempt to collect herself.

"Oh look at that," Harry awed, his palms slipping down the backs of her thighs and settled on her calves, "Got your toes curling and everything. Y'really do like this, angel. Gonna have to remember that one." 

(Y/N) didn't even realize she was nodding her head until she heard Harry's adoring laugh filter through the room along with a declaration that she was so cute following right after. His touch shifted over her body then, traveling up the backs of her thighs to the soft of her ass before working under the waist of her panties. (Y/N) prepared herself for another of those teasing tugs to be given to the fabric, pulling it tight against her form, just before the opposite happened and Harry took them down. The underwear lingered over her center, the wet material clinging to her for a moment before it gave and he could work it down the soft of her thighs. She helped him as he pulled them down the length of her legs, lifting her knees and feet when he needed until her panties joined the pile on the floor. 

Now bare except for the flimsy make of her bralette, (Y/N) felt especially vulnerable in her position with Harry behind her. There was no way she could hide now, each of her reactions and most intimate places left on display for her lover. Harry's breathing was heavy behind her in the way she could picture his chest heaving with a pink flush coloring through his chest tattoos before working up his neck in search of his cheeks. She would even bet that the tip of his cock was now the same flushed red shade that matched his lips after he bit them or allowed her to kiss them to her heart's content.

"Look at you, lovebug," he crooned as he shuffled behind her, his knees knocking into her own before widening their berth, "You're so wet for me. Must have been really torturing you if you're this sticky, hm? Letting y'suck m'cock only to pull y'up here like 'm going to fuck you, but I jus' keep playing with you instead. Gonna have to take good care of you to make up for it all." 

(Y/N) didn't even think before she pushed up against him, his cock nudging at her inner thigh while her pussy kissed at the bottom of his tummy. The only thing that rung through her mind was his promise to take care of her now, that it was her turn to feel satisfaction. 

"Please, please," she pleaded, "I want you, Harry." 

His voice was strained as he spoke again, "Don't worry, love, you'll have me." His soothing came along with the feel of his palm landing heavily over the small of her back, fingers splaying out. 

One cursory rock of his hips slid his cock up against her pussy, slipping between her folds and brushing the underside along her pearled clit. (Y/N)'s cry was cut off with only half of her oh my— making its way out of her mouth before the rest fizzled in her throat. Harry's own praising groan was loud between the walls of his bedroom, loud enough (Y/N) heard it over the rushing of her heartbeat in her ears. 

She needed that—needed him—in her right now. That was going to be the only way her body was going to settle enough to be present in the moment with him, she knew that. 

Harry seemed to be on the same page when he asked through his ticked jaw: "Are we using a rubber tonight, love?" 

"No, no, I just want you, please," she bubbled, the response coming like second-nature. She wanted to feel all of him tonight, nothing to separate them. 

A whispered celebration of fuck, yes, slipped out of Harry's mouth, the words bringing a small smile to (Y/N)'s lips. Nice to know she wasn't the only one that liked that they had the option to go without now. 

"Tr-Try to stay up on your knees with your back arched for me like this, yeah?" Harry started, one of his hands fitting between the both of them, assumedly to grab for the base of his cock, "But if y'get tired, I gave y'that pillow for a reason. It'll hold y'up if y'need it, okay?" 

"Okay," she peeped out, already steeling herself in hopes of staying in position for him. She was still on her mission to be the best little birthday present he'd ever had, anyway. 

"And you'll tell me if your color changes from green." 

His words were less of a request and more of a direct order (Y/N) still nodded her confirmation to. 

"And, you'll tell me if yours changes?" she asked a moment later, voice breathless. 

The hand splayed over the small of her back moved in a soothing run over the line of her spine. "I will, love, don't worry," he assured her through a smile she could hear. 

(Y/N) felt the knock of his knees hit the inside of her own as he adjusted his stance behind her just before her heart was pushed off rhythm when the tip of his cock brushed the bump of her clit. A sigh escaped her lips at the contact, Harry's hand at the small of her back working to soothe her with his thumb circling in the dimple at the base of her spine. He continued to coo to her as he ran the head of his prick through her folds, collecting all of her wetness to join the glaze of his precum and the wet of her saliva over his shaft. 

"Ready?" he murmured to her, always the one wanting to double check with her. 

"Please," she answered, voice floating between them on a broken breath. 

Harry didn't waste anther second before he nudged the crown of his cock at the opening of her wetness, her walls fluttering at the minimal contact and making it that much harder for Harry to slip inside. 

"Relax, baby," he crooned, voice as soft as his fingertips on her back, "Want me in, right?" 

"I do, I do," she confirmed, her words running together in her haste to get them out, "I'm just ex-excited, I'm sorry." 

A huffed laugh sounded from behind her. "'S okay, love. 'M excited, too, trust me. Jus' relax a little so I can give y'what y'want." 

She let out a murmured string of okay, okay, as she nodded her head into the pillow beneath her cheek. Taking deep breaths, she felt Harry working another circuit of his cock through her slit, willing herself to calm down and settle when she felt him nudge at her entrance one more time. Keening into the bed, the arch of her back deepening, she felt him push in, the head pushing through her clinched walls. 

"There we go, baby," he praised her, slipping further and further inside once the ridge of his crown popped inside, "Doing so good for me." 

(Y/N) felt a smile curve her lips at his words, willing herself to keep the clenching of muscles to her thighs as he pushed forward before bottoming out. His thighs were pushed against the back of her own, balls flush against her, with his hands shifting over her heated skin and grabbing at her hips. Harry stilled inside her, allowing for an adjustment period she still needed no matter how many times he had her. 

With his thumbs following the flared line of her hips, (Y/N) felt his warmth spread over her as he folded himself over her back. The hard muscles that lined his chest and stomach were pressed against her back just as she felt the pillows of his lips press a kiss to her shoulder. 

"Harry," she whined without meaning to, the call quiet between the two of them. 

"'M here, 'm here," he cooed, dropping another kiss to the corner of her lips, "I've got you, love, don't worry." 

He earned an absent nod of her head with his reassurances before her next sentiment left her mouth: "I love you." 

His smile could be felt against the full of her cheek before he proceeded to try and kiss her through the curve. "I love you, too." 

Harry lingered over her for a few more moments, cradling her with his own body before smearing a kiss on her shoulder and straightening out his spine. He gave a cursory rock of his hips behind her, nothing more than a short grind of his pelvis into her center that knocked a breathless moan loose from (Y/N)'s chest. 

"More," she requested, the word more delicate than she intended with the breathlessness of her voice. 

Without hearing anything other than a short, rumbling hum from Harry, she felt the loss of his body as he reared back, her mourning was short-lived before he was pushing into her again. Harry bottomed out with a sigh, this new position allowing him to press as deep as he could into her without the cradle of her legs stopping him. 

"Y'feel so good, baby, so fucking good," he said, voice strained. 

(Y/N) wanted to say something back, tell him that he felt even better, that she felt so full with him inside her and he'd never been deeper, but every sentiment died in her throat when he gave her another deep thrust. Without a condom, she was able to feel every vein and ridge lining his cock, the head nudging as far as she'd ever felt him. Her walls fluttered around him as he curated a rhythm that had the breath knocked out of her with each stroke inside. The only other sounds that could be heard over her breathless moans was the slap of his skin against hers and the growing wetness that slicked his cock with each thrust. 

She couldn't help herself but bury her face in the pillow under her cheek, each of her breathless calls of his name and the heavy slices of air that came tumbling from her lungs now muffled by the down. Her body jolted with every heady thrust he delivered to her center, cock sliding through her walls, hips smacking into her bottom, and balls tapping her clit in way that felt similar to the way his hand had been brought down on her earlier. Her toes curled over themselves as she steeled her legs to keep from giving out and to ruin the position she was in for her Harry. Even her hands were bundled into the deep black of the duvet, wishing they were instead threaded between the fingers pinching at the full of her hips. 

Harry gave a particularly hard roll of his hips, the stroke quick and cutting though he lingered as he worked the crown of his prick against her farthest walls. (Y/N) couldn't stop the cry that left her mouth in a wet gasp, the Oh my gosh!, muffled by the pillow just before one of his hands on her hips disappeared. His unrelenting rhythm never ceased even when she felt that hand reappear in her hair, familiar fingers threading through her strands and tugging at the root. Though he was still much more gentle than she was sure other people would have been committing the same act, (Y/N) was still pulled away from the sanctuary she found in his pillow at the force of his grip, neck bared against the satin. 

"No, not allowed to hide from me like that, angel," Harry grumbled, breathless and panting though his command still maintained a steel edge, "Gotta let me hear you, or 'm stopping, alright? Be good for me." 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, daddy," she bubbled, voice throaty given her position, "I won't do it again, I'm sorry." 

"'S okay, baby," he told her, another roll of his hips delivered when he bottomed out, balls pressing into her swollen clit, "I know y'don't mean to be bad, 's okay. Daddy's still got you." 

His fingers left her hair in soothing runs over her scalp before he pet his palm over her mussed strands. As she adjusted herself to lay with her cheek smushed into the pillow once more, she felt his hand settle on the back of her neck, a welcome weight that reassured her that he really did have her. 

"Feel good, angel?" he asked her, hips stuttering when she felt her insides tighten at the use of her favorite petname, "L-Like having me like this?" 

"Uh-huh," she breathed, "Y-You're so deep. It's like you're in my tummy."  

When she heard the groan that worked its way out from behind his sternum fill the room, (Y/N) cracked open her eyes just enough to see him over the curve of her shoulder. He was a dirty dream as he thrust into her, raspberry lips parted and swollen while his attention was fixed on where he was disappearing inside her. The curls of his hair acted as a dark curtain falling around his shoulders, though the smallest of baby curls were pasted to the sides of his face and gleamed with sweat. His skin was covered in that same sheen of perspiration, animating his tattoos as he flexed his muscles and worked himself in and out of her at a rewarding pace. The length of his arm was on show with the way he had it stretched over her back with his palm pressed into the back of her neck, bicep tight while his grip was gentle. 

"Y-Yeah?" he gritted out, "Y'like that?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, sucking in a deep breath before it was knocked from her lungs by the driving of his hips, "I w-want more—want you everywhere." 

Harry's response came in the form of mumbled praises that (Y/N) was too gone to hear, only knowing that he said anything by the way his lips moved. His hand on the back of her neck shifted as she watched the muscles in his arm flex, his palm sliding down the line of her spine before rejoining the one that remained on her hips. She watched him work over her for a moment longer before she realized the strain on her hips he was putting on her, as if he were pushing down on them. 

"Harry, I-I can't—You're p-pushing—" 

"I know, angel," he murmured to her, "Jus' relax and lay into your pillow a little, okay? Gonna make sure 'm everywhere for you, like y'want." 

She didn't have much room to ask any questions, especially when she got the okay to lose the position that was beginning to make her thighs and back ache. Slowly sinking down into the fluff of the pillow propping her hips up, the slope of her body decreased until she was raised up only at her hips with her knees sliding out from under her until only a small bend remained. 

Harry slowed behind her, his grip on her switching to cradle the curve of her waist. (Y/N) used that moment to recover as she felt him shift behind her, her breathing coming in even paces now that he was warming himself inside of her instead of knocking her breath from her lungs with each stroke. Her eyes fell closed during this moment, leaving her only to feel Harry's body hover over hers. 

Unlike earlier in the night, Harry didn't settle with hovering over her. He allowed the weight of his body to press into her back, sinking her into the bed below her. The familiar cradle of his chest and stomach returned with the blocky muscles now heavy on her body as he pressed into her back. He tucked his face into her shoulder, his breathing coming out in humid puffs that clung to the bare of her skin. 

(Y/N) felt her insides pulse when she realized what he was doing: she felt him everywhere. 

His mouth was pasted to her skin in smearing kisses while he gave rocks of his hips into her, not even pulling his cock out before he was trying to press deeper into her. His body was heavy over her own, not allowing her to feel anything but the sheets beneath her and the hot press of his body from above. 

"This alright, baby? Can feel y'clenching around me." His tone was deep and lazy as it sunk into her pores, not even bothering to lift his mouth from her skin before talking. Just another bit of him she now felt inside her. 

"Y-You're everywhere," she keened, a wet gasp falling from her lips at the feel of his grinding hips.

"This is what y'wanted, right?" he breathed. 

"Yes, yes, daddy," she cried, "Thank you, thank you." 

Harry's smile was imprinted on her shoulder. His thumbs on her waist worked soothing circuits over the curve, a gentle reward for her politeness she couldn't seem to shake. "Good girl, so polite." 

As much as she was reveling in the full contact he was granting her with his body pressing her into the mattress, she was missing the heady strokes of his hips into hers. (Y/N) couldn't help herself before she hooked her ankles around Harry's own legs, the vining curve of her legs urging him into her while she pressed her bottom back into his hips. 

A breathy laugh was delivered to the back of her shoulder while his hands on her waist solidified their hold. "Yeah? Ready for more?" 

"Please." 

That was all it took for Harry to rear his hips back, crevices created between their bodies that left her cold for the moment before he was pushing into her again. With how close she wanted him, he didn't dare pull out of her as far as he had been before, instead staying near her and sinking into her with shallow thrusts though his pace quickened. 

His panting could be heard loud in her ear, his own breathing mimicking the knocked tempo of hers. With every bit of their bodies pressed together and the matching pace of their breathing, (Y/N) swore she wouldn't have been able to discern who was who in that moment; where one of them began and the other ended. She liked that. 

Just as her fingers began to curl into the tuft of bedding she was sure she was going to rip a hole into by the end of the night, one of Harry's hands abandoned her waist only to wiggle between her palm and the distressed patch of duvet she was imprinting her nails into. The second (Y/N) realized he was trying to hold her hand, she was quick to replace the comforter in her grip with his fingers threaded between her own. Her heart squeezed at the fact he still wanted to hold her hand in a moment like this. 

The familiar contact was enough to ground (Y/N) as Harry relentlessly thrust into her, her clit swollen and aching with each smack of his balls against the sensitive pearl. Even her eyes began to burn as she took in every inch of space that was being set ablaze by Harry's touch. If this was how he planned on making her cry tonight, he was definitely achieving as much. With his hand in hers, (Y/N) acted on instinct as she brought the bundle of limbs up to the pillow beside her head. 

At first, she only pressed innocent kisses to the line of his thumb. She could hear Harry's amusement at her affection in the breathless laugh that sounded between grinds of his hips, though he never dared to pull his hand away. Once she reached the tip of his finger, swollen lips kissing at the black of his fingernail, she gingerly pulled him into her mouth. 

The hard muscles of Harry's stomach twitched against the small of her back, pelvis stuttering as he drove into her, when the wet of her mouth enveloped the tip of his thumb. A whispered curse was smeared into her skin as he allowed her to pry his digit away from the bundle of their hands,  (Y/N) taking him in her mouth until his finger was completely wrapped in the warmth of her mouth. She sucked over his thumb much like she had with his cock at the beginning of the night, her tongue contentedly moving over him in lazy strokes. 

For (Y/N), this was, more than anything, another way to have him with her—another avenue to be close to him in the middle of all the lengths they were going to to be as near as possible to one another. It was comforting to have him in her mouth, anyway, and she knew Harry liked it when she sucked on his fingers, too. 

As much could be seen in the way he began to breathe like the wind had been knocked out of him and his cock twitched and throbbed inside of her. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum if y'keep doing that," he panted, voice seemingly dipped in honey and rolled in gravel with the way it rumbled through his chest and poured over her skin. 

(Y/N) only nodded her head in jerky motions, his thumb still cozied in her mouth, wanting to feel exactly what was churning behind his stomach muscles that were still pressed into her back. 

"Y'want that? Want me to cum for you?" 

"Please," she lisped around his thumb, the word sounding a lot more like pleathe. 

His sweats slicked forehead dropped against her shoulder, the curated pace he had made with the rolls of his hips coming undone as he seemed at war with himself. After a moment, (Y/N) all too content to lay right there with Harry all around and in her, she felt him shake his head. 

"I can't, baby, not yet," he told her, words coming out through gritted teeth, "Wanna see your pretty face when I cum, 's that alright?" 

The thought of being face to face with him again tugged at the bottom of her heart, urging her to smile though she was much more occupied with Harry's finger pressing into the pad of her tongue. Reluctantly, she drew it from her mouth, now spit slicked and shining in the low light of his bedroom. 

"I wanna see you too," she told him, voice hoarse, "I miss you." 

Harry's voice was unsteady as if he were on the verge of tears as he spoke, "You're so cute, baby." 

Just after pressing a heavy kiss to her cheek, Harry peeled himself off her back. His hand retreated from hers though he still offered her a small squeeze before he situated himself between her thighs once again. Pulling his cock from her warmth, she was left without any connection to him aside from his thighs pressed into hers. She felt cold laying there without him, hips still raised by the help of his pillow under them. 

"Wh—" 

(Y/N) didn't have a chance to finish her question before Harry barred his arm under her waist and flipped her over under him. He untangled the mess of her legs and pushed the pillow off the bed, as he positioned her just where he wanted her before she could even collect her head and reorient herself. 

"There y'are," he crooned as he placed himself between her thighs, her bent knees on either side of him, "Missed your face, too, angel." 

Her hands were quick to cradle his face between her palms, her smile bright though she was leaning towards exhausted after all that had happened since they stepped into his bedroom. She used that grip on him to tug him down for a kiss, missing his lips and detesting the fact they'd barely kissed all night. Harry was a more than willing participant to make up for the lost time, slotting his lips between hers and chasing the taste of the mouth he'd missed all night. 

Distracted by the taste of his tongue slipping over her own and the comfort of the familiar act, (Y/N) hadn't even realized he slipped one of his hands between them until he lined up his cock with her weeping hole and he slipped right inside with a slick noise sounding in the room. He swallowed the aching sigh that escaped her mouth, the breath laying over his tongue before he shared it with her. 

The tempo of his thrusts was much less curated this time around, evidence of the fact that she really was about to make him cum just a minute earlier. He kept kissing her, their mouths slick and wet against each other, even as he dragged his hands over her sides, tracing her form down her legs until he reached and found the line of her shins. His palms were heavy and sweat-slicked on her soft skin. 

Harry pushed against her, pressing her calves flush against the backs of her thighs. Even then he kept pushing, using the strength she had fantasied about on her pliant body until he had her folded over with her thighs pinned to either side of her body and Harry had unfettered access to her center below him. 

(Y/N) threw her head back at the first thrust Harry delivered at this new angle, mouth dropped in a gape though no sound came out. It rivaled that of the depth he achieved behind her, though this time she was able to see him. He shifted above her as he rolled his hips, his knees depressing into the mattress on either side of her to angle himself that much deeper inside of her. Her feet dangled just over his arms, his fists pressing into the bedding to help hold him up as he fucked into her. 

"H-Harry," she whined, her hands on his cheeks shifting until her fingers curled around his shoulders, nails digging into the soft flesh. 

"I know, I know," he panted, lips smeared over the column of her throat, "Feels so fucking good, so fucking good." He punctuated every sentiment with a stroke of his hips, nudging deeper and deeper inside of her every rock of his hips. "I love you, baby," he told her, voice broken and gritted out through a ticked jaw. 

She abandoned the hold on his shoulders in favor wrapping her arms around his neck. Tugging him to her, she fought to press her lips to his in a frantic kiss. "I love you too, H, so much," she cooed, "H-Happy birthday." 

His smile was felt against her mouth. "Thank you, baby," he smiled, "Best little present I've ever had, you are." 

Her own mouth curved into a smile just as Harry delivered a particularly hard thrust to her center, the base of his cock grinding against her clit relentlessly as he lingered. A broken moan made its way out of her mouth as she turned her head to the side, leaving Harry to work his mouth down her neck while her cheek was smushed against the pillow. Instinctively, she shifted to wrap her legs around his waist, toes curling against his back while her walls mimicked her hold all around him and wrapped around Harry's cock in snug ripples. 

"Oh, fuck, 'm gonna cum, angel," he groaned, words coming out over broken breaths and poured over the curve of her throat.

She almost felt panicked at his admission, her legs unraveling from around his waist. The vision of her face painted in his release he'd given her earlier in the night reappeared at the forefront of her mind. He wasn't supposed to finish like this.

"Wait, wait," she rushed out, Harry immediately slowing at her request, "I-I want it on my face." 

Her cheeks flooded with heat at the sound of her own words, the invitation sounding especially depraved with the breathlessness of her voice. But, gosh, the second that picture entered her mind, of her with his cum spilling over her face while Harry moaned above her and praised her for being so pretty with him all over her, she knew that was all she wanted to end the night on. 

Once Harry processed her words, there was something like awe filling his gaze before his features crumbled and he had no choice but to drop his forehead to her chest. His breathing was nothing more than shoddy pants spilling over her skin, humid and weak. 

"D-Daddy can do that for you, baby," he promised, though she knew what was coming next. "Are y'sure y'want that?" 

"I-I am, I am," she keened, "Please, please, H. Let me be good for you."

His cock twitched inside her, nudging the spongey spot Harry made his own, as he breathed into her skin. He lagged behind in response for a moment, no movement other than the heaving of his chest against hers. 

"I-I will, angel, I will," he told her once he found his voice, "Gotta make y'cum first though—gotta be good and cum first, then I'll give y'what y'want." 

(Y/N) nodded her head on instinct, to reassure him and herself that she was going to be good for him. "I'm close, Harry, I'm close, please." 

No response was given as he instead dropped his head to smear a line of wet kisses along her throat and down her chest until he hit the line of the bralette still covering her breasts. He made quick work of that, slipping one of his hands between their bodies and ripping the cups down to sit underneath the curve of her chest. The peaks of her nipples were hard as he took one between his lips, licking his tongue over her before sucking as much as he could into his mouth. (Y/N) keened into his touch, back arching and pressing him harder against her breast. The tip of his nose could be felt grazing her heated skin from where he lay over her, enough of a touch to make goosebumps erupt over her. The hand he bundled between their bodies moved down until his fingertips traced over the bud of her clit, making it that much harder for (Y/N) to keep a clear head. All the while, Harry drove his hips against hers in deep thrusts, a relentless pace being curated in hopes of bringing her over that edge she told him she was already close to. 

"C'mon, darling, cum for me," he murmured to her after he released her breast from his mouth only to move to the other and repeat the motions. 

The circles he was making around her clit grew tighter and tighter until the pad of his thumb smeared heavily over the pearled bud, her legs shaking on either side of him. It was all too much, she needed something to ground her, something to remind her of the moment she was in and not get lost in the pleasure the would take her somewhere she'd never been before. 

With her arms around his neck, (Y/N) urged Harry off her breasts and back to her mouth. She drew him in for a messy kiss, mouths not quite lining up right, but she didn't care. This was enough for her, to leash her back in and make it that much easier to cum knowing that this was still the love of her life hovering over her. 

That was all it took for the spiral that ribboned in her tummy to tie into an unbelievable knot, coiling around her muscles and stealing her breath, then unraveling. 

"Oh my—Har-Harry!" she whined against his mouth, eyes shuttered tight while her hands were fisted behind his neck.

Her toes curled and her back arched, breasts pressed against his sweaty chest. Nothing made sense while her body shook and ran to keep up with her head that was threatening to float up to the clouds and stay there. Harry was the only point of clarity in her mind as she repeated his name in breathless calls, his fingers on her clit and heavy hips working her through the haze to the otherside. He followed her in those moments that her orgasm wracked through her body, gently kissing the corner of her mouth and whispering sentiments she wished she could hear over the rushing sound filling her ears. In the smallest part of the back of her mind, she realized that the tiniest of tears had begun to leak from the corner of her eyes and into her hairline. 

Aftershocks settled in the second his touch became too much, feeling too good to actually revel in the pleasure. "T-Too much, Harry," she breathed, absently shaking her head.

It was then that Harry's own body seemed to bow under the pressure that had been lurking under his muscles. His hand left her clit and his forehead dropped to her shoulder. Every inch of him seemed to liquify except for the hard cock tucked snugly inside her shuddering pussy. He seemed content in just laying over her, basking in her own orgasm with mutterings of how she was such a good girl for him, cumming so hard for him like he wanted, but that wasn't what (Y/N) needed right then. 

"You're turn, H," she told him, voice as steady as she could manage as her arms slipped from around his neck and stopped with her hands on his sides, "You still need to cum, too." 

As if he just barely remembered the request she'd had minutes earlier, Harry's body tensed and his cock throbbed. "Still want me on your face?" 

"Please." 

The way Harry groaned as he slipped out of her told her just how on edge he already was before he started kneeing this way over the mattress. His cock was wet with her own orgasm, the ruddy head glimmering while his precum threatened to leak from the slit. (Y/N) watched from under him as he stopped and hovered over her chest, knees on either side of her body while his own chest heaved with heavy breaths. His eyelids fell over his eyes in a lazy hood, lashes dark like his smudged liner and curling in the low light while his cheeks matched the flush coloring his chest. His lips even matched the red color of the tip of his cock, spit slicked and swollen. 

"Ready?" he breathed, a hiss escaping his lips once he wrapped his hand around the base of his prick. 

"Uh-huh," (Y/N) answered, her hands reaching to land on his thighs, fingertips denting the tattooed skin. "I want it, H, please." 

His eyes squeezed shut as he listened to her, his hand stroking over his shaft in frantic runs. The slick noises filling the room almost made her want to shy away, knowing that it was her own slick that caused that sound. But, there was never going to be a time where she passed on watching Harry make himself feel good with his fist around his cock and face twisted in pleasure. With her much clearer head, she wanted to remember every detail of this vision of him above her, stroking his cock and breathing out obscenities. 

When his hand stuttered over his length and a bead of precum fell from the tip and landed on her chest, she knew he was close—seconds away, if she was lucky. She tightened his grip on his thighs in anticipation, eager to feel everything he had to offer. 

"Fuck, fuck, 'm cumming, baby," he gritted out, his features crumbling as he jerked his cock. 

The first rope of cum landed over her lips, her open mouth catching most of it with the pad of her tongue. (Y/N) jerked back at first, startled, but soon fell into contentment as soon as she saw how much Harry liked it with the way he couldn't draw his eyes away despite the fact the rest of him was succumbing to the pleasure. He worked over his cock, drawing out more and more of his cum that landed on (Y/N)'s face in streaks that splayed over her cheeks, chin, and mouth—stray beads even landing on the bridge of her nose. If not for the fact she didn't want to get anything in her eyes, she would have watched every second and committed this to memory for any lonely night she couldn't sleep in Harry's bed. 

Once the last stroke splashed across her cheek, glancing over the height of her cheekbone, with nothing following right after and Harry's groans quieting to huffed breaths, she peeked her eyes open. He kept going, fist over his shaft, though he seemed to be spent, finally. It wasn't until she saw him visibly shudder from oversensitivity that he relented, hand falling from around his sensitive cock. He moved on shaky legs to leave his position above her until it was safe for him to slump into the ruffled bedding beside her with the full of his weight.

Harry didn't waste time before he was hovering over her again, propped up by his elbow with dark eyes taking in the state of her face. That look of awe crashed over his irises again as he gazed down at her. The look only heightened when he watched (Y/N) flick her tongue out and lap up the streaks that landed across her lips as best she could. 

He still didn't say anything as he dragged his finger through a rope that landed over her cheek, a little too close to her eye, before returning that finger to her mouth. (Y/N) knew what he wanted as she licked over the digit, cleaning the cum he scooped up for her. A breathless groan left his mouth as he watched her, her tongue slipping back into her mouth now coated in white. 

"Jesus Christ," he cursed before slumping back against the pillows, even the sight of her apparently too stimulating in the moment. 

(Y/N) only had time to let out a breathless laugh, moments away from cleaning up her face by her own hand before Harry reached over the side of the bed and returned with his discarded shirt in his hand. 

"Oh, angel," he cooed to her when he wiped his shirt over her face in careful runs, collecting the streaks of his cum, "Y'have no idea how pretty y'look right now, do you? Y'almost made me cum again right then when y'looked at me like that." 

A shy smile curled her lips as she leaned into his hand, letting him clean her up. "I don't feel very pretty right now, but I'll take your word for it." 

Once she was cleaned up and his shirt was thrown somewhere in the direction of his hamper, Harry didn't bother to respond before he caught her lips in a kiss. The taste of him lingered over her tongue, but he didn't pay it any mind as he laid his affection heavily over her mouth, as if he hadn't seen her all night. 

"M'sweet girl," he murmured, quiet and lazy enough that (Y/N) wondered if he knew he was saying this all out loud. "So, so good for me. So brave, and gorgeous. Thank you, baby, thank you." 

With his hands cradling her cheeks, she smiled into his kiss. "Happy birthday, Harry." 

He crumbled at her well wish, his own mouth now pressing into a smile that mimicked hers. He drew away just enough to press his forehead to her own with the tip of his nose grazing the side of hers. Their lashes tangled at the proximity once he dared to open his eyes, (Y/N) already waiting with her own exhausted gaze. 

"I love you," he murmured, voice like a secret between them. 

"I love you, too," she reciprocated without hesitation.

That earned her one more kiss before Harry reluctantly drew away. He jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom, eyes tired and adoring. "Go wait for me in the bathroom, and I'll get some pajamas for us before we clean y'up, 'kay?" 

Though she didn't much like the idea of being separated from him right then, (Y/N) still nodded her head. She needed to use the bathroom anyway. 

Harry sent her off with a pat to her bare bottom as they crossed paths on the way to their separate destinations. Behind the bathroom door, (Y/N) took care of her business and cleaned herself up before washing her hands. The cool water on her palms was a welcome shock from the heated state her body had been in since setting foot in Harry's bedroom. With her chilled hands, she readjusted her bralette to cover her chest, feeling a little too exposed now that Harry wasn't with her. 

She only had a moment to yearn for him before he was knocking on the door before cracking it open. 

"Is it alright if I come in, baby?" he asked her, waiting for her hum of approval before he stepped over the threshold. He found her lent up against the bathroom counter, thighs crossed to protect her modesty with arms barred across her middle. A bright smile molded his features as soon as he took her in, a black t-shirt bundled under his arm as he shut the door behind him. A pair of dark green sweats covered his legs, but it was abundantly clear that was the only article of clothing he bothered to put on with his bare chest and lack of boxers peeking over the waist. "I only grabbed one of m'shirts for you," he told her as he held out the black shirt to her once he was close enough, "but I can pick some sweats out if y'wanted to wear some tonight." 

(Y/N) was quick to shake her head. He should know her better than that. "No pants," she murmured, taking the soft fabric in her hands before pulling it over her head while Harry let out a soft laugh. The top landed at the mid of her thigh and slouched off one shoulder, the article old and worn and even too big on Harry, but it smelled just like him and held signs of distress from years of love. It was her favorite thing already. "Thank you," she said as she flicked her hair out of the neckline. 

"Of course, love," he beamed at her, reaching for her hips before lifting her to sit on the countertop. Her back was to the mirror, where her line of skincare products was set up for the weekend sleepover they were planning. Harry trailed his gaze over the line before absently brushing his hands over the thighs that cradled his hips where he stood between them. "What first?" 

"Hm?" she hummed, twisting her neck to look behind her where his own gaze led, "What do you mean? 

"Told y'we were going to get y'cleaned up, right? You've still gotta wash your face after all that." A sly grinned worked its way over this mouth as he acknowledged what had gone on in his bedroom under the light of the bathroom. 

"Oh," she sounded, cheeks heating at the reminder, "Um—I need to wash my face first. That's this one." She picked the correct bottle out of the line, moving to slip off the counter and wash her features before Harry stopped her with his hands on her thighs. 

"Let me do it," he said, conviction laced throughout his words. Before she could utter the question she was sure was on her face, Harry pecked a kiss to her nose. "Yes, 'm sure. Jus' tell me what to do and we'll get y'cleaned up." 

"O-Okay," she stuttered, speaking through her smile, "We need to get my face wet first, then we just wash my face with my cleanser until its all foamy." 

She knew exactly what had clicked in his brain the second that a teasing glint flickered through his gaze though he tried to remain nonchalant as he ran the faucet with water flowing into his cupped hands. 

"Could've jus' done this part out there then," he started off innocently though his grin was anything but as he used his cupped hands to wet her features, "Since your face was already wet, anyway." 

"Harry, stop," she whined, though it held no conviction as she spoke through a grin rivaling his own, "Don't say it like that." 

"Sorry, sorry," he relented as he pumped some of her cleanser onto his fingers. 

A look of concentration settled over his features as he pressed his saturated fingers to either cheek. He moved in gentle circles over the planes of her face, his gaze following each run of his hands as he waited for the suds to appear. 

(Y/N) sat in pampered contentment under his attention, eyes fluttering closed after a moment, his ministrations far too relaxing to ignore. 

"Thank you," she peeped, careful to not move her mouth too much as he worked. 

"Of course, baby," he told her, voice sounding absent as his attention was fixed elsewhere, "Gotta clean up my mess, don't I?" 

With her eyes closed, it was much easier to utter her next words though she was sure Harry would be able to feel the resulting heat that filled her cheeks. "I liked being your mess." 

His fingers stuttered for just a moment over her features, his reaction lagging until she opened her eyes again. She found him with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, pupils dilated as he dropped his gaze to her own mouth. 

"Harry?" 

The sound of his name seemed to shake him from whatever moment he was having. Clearing his throat he returned to the faucet, swiping a handtowel from the rack before running it under the water. "Think we're good to wash off." 

She only nodded her head, fingers fumbling with the hem of her borrowed shirt in her lap. Was that the wrong thing to say? 

Harry stayed quiet as he wiped the foam of her cleanser from her face, taking care to keep from brushing too harshly or grazing her eyes. 

"What next?" he asked, voice graveled as he kept his gaze trained to the line behind her. 

"I—um—I have it all set up in order, so the toner's next," she instructed, feeling shy now that Harry took her comment the wrong way. 

Even with her direction, he took his time reading the next bottle in line before picking it up, shaking it well before tilting her head up with a tap under her chin. She did as instructed, closing her eyes as she felt the mist of her toner land over her face as Harry sprayed it out. He fanned her face for a moment just as the bottle instructed before he tucked it away, this time not asking for any guidance as he ran his eyes down the line. 

With the next product warmed on his hands before Harry began working the serum into her skin, his eyes dropped to her mouth once more. 

"Y'like being my mess, y'said?" 

"Harry, I—" 

"'S okay, angel," he soothed her, a quiet smile on his mouth, "Jus' had to wait a second before I dragged y'back to the bedroom with me." 

"Oh," she sounded, feeling a little silly now as Harry ran his fingers over the line of her nose, "I thought... I didn't know if that was the right thing to say when you didn't say anything." 

Harry seemingly rolled her words around as he canted his head, reaching for the next product behind her once this one had sunk in. "'S the right thing to say if you're ready for round two, but I think we're both a little too tired for that tonight, aren't we?" 

(Y/N) agreed in a shy nod, dropping her gaze to her lap before Harry tipped her chin up again with dots of her eye cream on his fingers. Instinctively, she looked up under her lashes before Harry mimicked the motion he'd probably seen from her thousands of times as he dragged his fingertips gently over her undereyes. 

"Was there anything you didn't like tonight?" Harry questioned.

Refraining from shaking her head, (Y/N) felt the heat under her skin inch higher over her features. "No, I-I liked everything." 

"Everything?" he pressed, a teasing edge to his tone. 

She was forced to match his eye contact once he was finished with applying her eye cream and reached for the final step of her moisturizer. Just as she thought, there was a layer of amusement soaking in his irises with the beginnings of a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Swallowing, she found her voice around her fluttering heartbeat. "You made me feel really good tonight, H. I liked everything." 

With a scoop of her face cream doled out on his fingers, he didn't stop the smile from spreading over his features. "Everything," he mused under his breath, rubbing her moisturizer into her skin, "Gonna have to remember that." 

"Harry," she whined, wishing she could hide her face. 

"What?" he countered, shaking his head though his smile never waned, "Don't have to be shy, you know. If I didn't like it too, then I wouldn't be almost hard again jus' talking about it, would I?" 

(Y/N) chanced a short peek down his body. He was telling the truth. 

Harry only shook his head again, catching every second of her perusal of his body. With a final swipe on her nose, he pressed a gentle kiss to the soft of her lips before backing up from the cradle of her thighs. "All done, angel." 

Hopping off the counter, she gave him a gracious smile that stretched her cheeks and warmed her skin. "Thank you, Harry. I know I'm supposed to be taking care of you since its your birthday, but I really liked that. It felt nice having you do it." 

"Anytime, love. 'M happy to help," he murmured, dropping a quick kiss to her forehead before reaching behind her. He came back with both of their toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste in his hand. His free hand nudged her to the sink. "C'mon, last part then we'll lay down." 

Taking her pink toothbrush from his hold, she waited as he positioned them in front of one of the sinks, Harry beside her. After wetting the brush, Harry put a a squeeze of the minty blue toothpaste he preferred onto the bristles, his hip bumping hers as he stowed the tube away. 

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror as she began to brush her teeth, aware of the way he was making a point to be careful not to nudge her with his elbow. He winked at her as soon as she caught his gaze, white foam beginning to collect at the corners of their mouths as they worked beside each other. Another slight bump to her side was delivered by Harry's hip, as much of a smile as he could manage around his toothbrush forming on his features. The curve only grew when (Y/N) reciprocated his teasing, a delicate bump being administered to the mid of his thigh from her own hip. 

Once it was time, Harry tugged her before the sink, letting her spit and clean up first before he followed. He gave her a soft smile in the mirror before murmuring to her to c'mon, that it was time for birthday cuddles before bed. (Y/N) would have skipped to the bed if not for how exhausted she was, climbing under the ruffled bedding after kicking the discarded pillow on the floor towards the hamper. They were going to have to do some odd laundry tomorrow. 

Harry joined her with open arms, his chest an inviting pillow as he cradled her into his side. Resting her head on his chest, she curled in on herself with her gaze pointed down towards their feet and one of her hands flat on his tummy. Sinking into the mattress, (Y/N) felt Harry's body relax under her with his chest expanding in a deep breath. 

"You had a good birthday, H?" she asked once her eyes fluttered closed, hooking her ankle over his under the duvet. 

His heartbeat under her ear fluttered but was quickly overshadowed by the rumbling of his voice. "Had the best birthday, angel. Don't know how we're gonna top this one." 

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," she smiled, her huffed laugh fanning over his stomach. 

"I already have a few ideas," he teased, his voice dropping an octave. A beat passed before he spoke again, his voice soft, "But really, I had a wonderful day, thanks to you, love. I had so much fun with you." 

(Y/N) couldn't help herself before she planted a delicate kiss to one of the roses tattooed on his skin. "Love you," she mumbled, growing sleepier the more she felt his voice rumble under her ear, "Happy birthday."

Harry's arm around her clutched at her hip, bringing her flush against his side. This time, she was allowed to hear the full symphony of his heart stuttering and fluttering. She liked to think that was because she told him she loved him. But, maybe that was just the call of her dreams talking. 

The last thing she heard before she was tucked away in her dreamland was Harry murmuring into her hair: "I love you, too, angel. Can't wait to spend all m'birthdays with you."

———————-

You set them down with a smile. “See you next week, Mr. Styles.”

“Y/N, wait,” he stopped you as you had barely turned to leave, and your friend Bailey raised a brow at you before you turned to look back at your professor fully. “I asked you to collect those because I wanted to give you a compliment on the essay you had turned in last week. Hearing your thoughts on the powerful women represented in Greek mythology had my attention captured the entire time.”

The smile on your lips grew bigger, and your chest swelled with pride at the compliment. “Thank you, Professor. That means a lot coming from you.”

Professor Styles had to have been the most profound professor you had ever had. He was not only intelligent, but he was so well-spoken. Earning any kind of praise from him felt like you were winning a prize. 

“You’ve written many great essays from the start of the semester, but I think this one was my favorite of yours. Excellent work, Y/N. I can’t wait to see what you do with the next one.”

Now you could feel the blush tinting your cheeks as you looked down at your feet before meeting his eyes once more, but now he had pushed his glasses onto the top of his head. “I appreciate that. I have to say that learning in this class comes pretty easy though when you’re the one teaching it - so thank you too.”

You watched as his lips quirked up on one side - causing that sweet dimple of his to indent into his cheek. “And I appreciate that.”

Before causing yourself to look like a blubbering idiot, you turned on your heels and walked over to Bailey who hooked her arm in yours. You made your way into the cafe in the middle of campus to kill time between your next class, and you and your friend sat yourselves down at a table with fresh coffees pressed against your palms - croissants in the middle to share.

“Isn’t it refreshing having a Professor like Mr. Styles?” Bailey took a moment to blow on her beverage to try and cool it down faster. “I feel like any other male professor would’ve shit on you for writing a whole essay about powerful women, but I could tell he was actually being honest when he told you that he really enjoyed yours.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached forward to rip off a piece of one of your pastries. “He also seems like one of the only professors we have that actually cares whether or not we succeed. I’ve heard him offer extra credit so many times to students who are struggling. He doesn’t like to see anyone fail, and I feel like there’s plenty of weirdo professors who feed off that sort of thing.”

“Not to mention he is kind of easy on the eyes,” your friend sighed as she also popped a piece of croissant into her mouth. “Something about those glasses he wears…”

“Bailey,” you cringed while shaking your head - slouching back in your seat while taking a sip of coffee.

“What? Don’t act like you haven’t noticed! For example, whenever he wears those sweater vests, and then rolls up the sleeves of the shirt he has underneath it to his elbows,” Bailey draped the back of her hand across her forehead like a true damsel. “Seeing his tattoos out like that. It’s so hot.”

Pursing your lips to the side, you suppressed the laughter that wanted to leave you. “Okay. Sure. He’s attractive, alright? But I honestly don’t notice that much when we’re in class. I’m actually focusing on the material.”

“Yeah, me too. The material of whatever trousers he’s wearing that accentuate those muscular thighs.”

Eventually you were able to steer the direction of the conversation away from your handsome professor, and before you knew it, it was time for the both of you to head to your next classes.

“Oh, Shauna’s party on Saturday- you’re coming right?” Bailey asked as you gathered your things.

“Uh, I can’t,” you cleared your throat as you tossed your trash into a nearby can. “I already have plans.”

“You do?” Bailey raised a suspecting eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

As much as you wanted to confess to your friend the secret that you had been keeping for months, you knew that you couldn’t. The only thing you could do now was lie. “I offered to help tutor one of my classmates in my Statistics class. She’s starting to fall behind a bit, and she wants to try to get ahead of what’s stumping her before it’s too late.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to offer to do that on a Saturday night. If you finish up early, you should still come.”

“I need the extra cash, especially since I had to replace all that shit in my car a couple of months ago. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” the two of you walked out of the cafe, but stopped before going your opposite ways. “If it does end early, I’ll swing by for a bit.”

You hated lying to Bailey. That wasn’t you. You weren’t a liar, and you despised how it made you feel inside. The only thing you could think of to say to cover yourself was that you were tutoring. You had already used the excuse too many times that you were studying and doing your schoolwork, and Bailey knew better than to keep believing that - considering you were a student who liked to get assignments done earlier into the week. There was no fooling her when she knew you in your first year of University, and now you were in your final one. Maybe you would feel comfortable enough to tell her your secret eventually, but for now, it was something you would be keeping all to yourself.

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

It was now Saturday night, and you found yourself up on stage at Silk & Lace. You were currently partaking in a half demonstration, half scene in one of your usual side rooms - feeling as confident as ever in your strappy lingerie that was slightly see through. Your nipples were just barely shining through the fabric and when you turned around, the lace left little to the imagination when it came to your ass.

Your partner was behind you as you continued to partake in your Shibari demonstration. The red cord rope was tied over your chest, rounding underneath your breasts before it was tied in an intricate pattern along your spine to hold it all together. From there, he lowered himself down to kneel behind you and he began to tie a separate set of ropes high over your hip bones, and then over the creases of your thighs. He then tied a few knots around one of the tops of your thighs before knotting everything together once again.

As you felt your partner finishing up the final knots, your eyes glanced over the crowd like they always did, but you quickly did a double take when they ran over a face you had never seen here before, however, it was one that you knew so well. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you realized you weren’t seeing things, and you were actually witnessing your professor sitting there.

Professor Styles.

It was shocking to see him, as you were sure you would’ve noticed had he been here before, but there he was dressed in a dark blue suit - the blazer having a white stripe down the side where the buttons were. Underneath he was wearing a white tank-top that showed off a patch of chest hair, and inked swallows that you had never seen before.  He had a glass of caramel colored liquor in his hand that he was bringing up to his lips, but he didn’t dare to take his eyes off of you.

Although a sense of nervousness washed over you, there was also something erotic about the way he was eying your body - all tied up. The ropes across your chest caused your tits to sit up a little higher, and the ropes tucked under the creases of your ass had your cheeks more pronounced. You kept your eyes on him so you could see exactly where his own trailed, and you had almost forgotten about the second part of all of this, the scene part, until your partner was draping you over the bench that was in the middle of the stage.

You closed your eyes when you felt him pulling your underwear over to the side, and you pressed your forehead against the cool surface to ground yourself for just a moment before placing your cheek down once more - positioning yourself so that the audience would be able to see every expression on your face. This was as far as you ever went with the scenes. You had never indulged in one that contained anything but oral sex. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy watching full sex scenes yourself, or that you were against them exactly, but it just wasn’t something you wanted to partake in.

Swallowing harshly, you fluttered your eyes open and could see that your professor still had his eyes glued to you. A gasp flooded from your lungs as you felt your partner’s tongue against your slit, and for the first time in a while, you knew that you were decently wet from the start. It’s not like you didn’t get turned on by any of this, because you did, but tonight you knew that you were already dripping because of who was in the crowd watching your every move. Even though what your partner was doing felt good to you, you were playing up your moans as always. You hardly ever actually came, and you really didn’t care. You honestly did this for fun and the money more than anything. Getting off was never your mission.

The scene went on for some time, and you alternated your noises between whimpers, whines and moans. You had allowed your eyes to close every now and then, to wander over the crowd as there was still a nervousness about looking directly at your professor, but when you looked back to him after a minute or so, you saw his large hand palming against his thick erection. Although you had already felt something switch within you by seeing Professor Styles in this setting, the image in front of you now had you absolutely reeling.

Soon your moans actually turned into genuine ones, and as you stared at your superior, you couldn’t help but imagine that he was the one behind you - the one with his tongue tucked up inside your cunt. With your wrists firmly secured against the small of your back due to the knots that were still in place, all you could do was dig your nails into your palms and picture that your fingers were gripping your professor’s hair instead. 

With just a few more pulses of your partner’s tongue inside of you, and his thumb applying pressure to your clit, you came for the first time during a scene in  a while right there on that stage. Your thighs trembled as you whimpered your way through your orgasm - fighting to keep your eyes open so that they didn’t disconnect from his. 

Now that the scene was over, the crowd began to disperse as your partner helped you up from the table so that you were standing up straight.  He untied you, and wiped between your thighs with a damp cloth before you were moving to pull your black silk robe on. From the time that you had turned your back to where the crowd was once sitting to cover yourself, to the time you turned back around, your professor was already gone. 

You tried not to wear your emotions on your face, and you quickly made your way into your private room at the club. Pouring yourself a drink, and plopping yourself down on the plush couch, you were now having post-orgasm clarity as you sipped your bourbon. Once Monday came, you knew what you had to do. 

You would be asking for a transfer from Professor Styles’ class. 

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

It was Monday morning, and you were sitting beside Bailey in Professor Styles’ classroom. The side of your thumb was against your teeth as she chewed nervously on your cuticle. All weekend you were panicked about what could come of Saturday’s events. You kept trying to be rational about it - reminding yourself that he obviously couldn’t hold anything against you considering he was also at the club, but the whole thing still made you incredibly anxious. 

Bailey had been side-eyeing you all morning, but you could tell that she was hesitant to ask what was wrong. You hoped that she wouldn’t. There were several different reasons that you knew that you could give her, but given your current state, you weren’t sure if any of them would come off as believable.

It was two minutes before class was supposed to start, a little later than usual for your professor, but your heart practically stilled as you saw him walking through the front of the room. He looked over the class like he usually did as he made his way to his desk, and you were grateful, but also a little shocked, that his eyes didn’t linger on you any longer than they usually did.

Throughout class, Professor Styles acted as usual. Nothing seemed the slightest bit off with him, but here you were practically crawling out of your skin after what happened over the weekend. Then you had to think to yourself - were you overreacting? It’s not like you had come into any sort of physical contact with each other. You didn’t even talk to each other. It was all eye contact, and nothing more. Your thoughts caused your mind to wander, and you realized you hadn’t been paying attention to a single thing that was being discussed during the lecture. That was unlike you. You were a good student, and it frustrated you that one night only filled with eye contact had you losing focus.

It wasn’t until you heard the regular verbiage that your professor gave every week when class was ending that you knew that it was over. You gathered your things into your bag, and as you stood, you tried to quickly think of a reason to tell Bailey why you had to stay behind.

“Hey, uhm,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “I need to discuss a paper with Professor Styles. I hope it won’t be too long, but I’ll meet you in the cafe soon?”

Bailey shrugged as she pulled the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. “Sure. I’ll see you there.”

You both walked down the steps as you usually sat on the third level of seats in the classroom, and once everyone was gone, you drew in a deep breath as you approached Professor Styles’ desk. He continued to type on the computer, avoiding your gaze as if he didn’t know you were right there, so you decided to just speak.

“I’d like to transfer out of your class, please. I haven’t sent the request in yet, but I know I’ll need you to sign off on the form once I get it from my course planner.”

Your professors’ typing ceased, and you watched as his fingers twitched before he responded to you, however, he kept his eyes on his computer screen. “And may I ask why you suddenly feel the need to transfer out of my class, Y/N?”

“Don’t do that,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Don’t ignore what you witnessed. I don’t need you playing dumb. That doesn’t make this any easier for me.”

You watched as your professor sighed - running a hand over his face after setting his glasses down on his desk. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to figure out how to navigate this myself.”

It gave you a weird sense of comfort to see that he was in as much distress as you were, but it still didn’t soothe that uneasiness that was knocking inside of your chest.

“I’m sure you are. I took all day yesterday to think about it, and I think it would be easier for both of us if I just removed myself from your class.”

Professor Styles then intertwined his fingers together and pushed his palms down against his desk as he finally looked up at you. You couldn't help but have the images from Saturday night rush through your mind once his eyes met yours, and you started to falter under his gaze.

“We’re both adults. I feel we can be mature about this, don’t you?” His head tilted to the side. “Given the place where the…situation happened, I feel like we’re more than capable of keeping the whole thing private.”

You knew what he meant. For the most part, anything done within the sex club was very secret, and wasn’t talked about outside those doors. Was this him telling you that he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone else? But then you reminded yourself of the thought you had yesterday - if he exposed you, then he exposed himself too.

Taking in a deep breath, you tilted your chin up to try and exude confidence as much as possible. “Fine. I’ll stay, however, if I end up changing my mind after thinking this over some more, I would very much appreciate you signing off on the transfer.”

It did kind of baffle you why you gave in so easily to staying in Professor Styles’ class, but you had to look back at all the times where he encouraged not only you, but everyone to succeed in his course. Regardless of what happened, he was a good mentor, and you would be more than fortunate to finish out a semester with someone as put together as he was.

“Absolutely,” he nodded at your request. “You have my word.”

Giving him another brief nod, you turned to walk out, but once you reached the doorway, he called your name.

“Oh, and Y/N?” Your hands shook at the anticipation of what he would say, or request from you with the tone he was using, but nonetheless, you looked over your shoulder at him. “If you see me there again for any reason, you can call me Harry.”

There were no words you could put together to answer him, and you gave just a silly little shake of your head in agreement before rushing out of the entire building. You knew you were supposed to meet Bailey at the cafe, but you needed some time to yourself. Once you reached the park that was on campus, you sat down on a bench to catch your breath - reviewing the entire encounter you just had over in your head. 

Had you made a mistake? Should you have pressed for him to sign the transfer right away instead of trying to hear him out? Regardless of the doubts you were having, you were also intrigued as to why he was so adamant about having you not transfer out of your class. You figured there was only one thing further that could settle what this was.

If you saw Harry at the club again, it would have to be for a specific reason given the circumstances, and you couldn’t deny that you would be tempted to uncover exactly what that was. 

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

It had been a couple of weeks since you had your discussion with Harry about transferring from his class, and you hadn’t seen him in the club since. You figured that he had made the decision to form that separation completely - that he wouldn’t be coming back ever, or at least until you were no longer his student. Part of you understood it, and you knew it was for the best, but another part of you almost found yourself disappointed every time you looked out into the crowd and he wasn’t there.

You were having an inner dilemma over that. It was hard to wrap your head around why you would want your professor to see you in this type of environment again. There was something not wired right in your brain - you were sure of it. You had even contemplated going to therapy to try and figure out why you were so eager to potentially see him here another time, but you forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. 

Tonight you had found yourself practically in the same setting that Harry had seen you in, however, this was truly just a demonstration - no scene. It was a woman tying you up tonight, and the lingerie you had on wasn’t as revealing as usual. You could hear your partner for tonight speaking to the crowd, and walking them through every step of how she was knotting up the ropes, but your mind wasn’t so into it.

“Is there anyone that would like to come up here and try?” Your partner asked the crowd as she loosened the ropes to have you free, and you rolled your shoulders and your wrists to stretch them out a bit before you were bound again.

A hand goes up towards the back of the audience, and due to the stage you were on tonight, the bright lights kept you from being able to see the faces of anyone past the first couple of seats. It wasn’t until the volunteer was coming up the steps on the side of the stage that you saw it was Harry, and your pulse quickened.

Your partner stepped back as Harry approached you from behind, and you listened as she gave him the usual run down.

“No touching other than what you have to do with the ropes. One inappropriate touch, and you’re banned - we could potentially consider the cops as well, got it?” She asked, and you smirked softly to yourself at her words. This was the usual lingo, but you knew she was being protective over you.

“Would never even think of touching her inappropriately.”

Goosebumps coated your skin as you felt Harry starting to drape the ropes across your body, and his chest was soon pressed against your back. His fingertips brushed down the back of our arms before he started tying you in knots - both figuratively in your stomach and literally against your skin. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered into your ear, and you swallowed harshly before nodding.

“Yes.”

The rest of the demonstration almost felt like a blur, and it wasn’t until you felt the ropes dropping away from your skin for a second time that you realized it was all over. You heard your partner dismissing your crowd of the night, and due to your routine, you immediately turned to grab your robe that was draped over a bar at the back of the stage. As you pulled it on, you started to walk down the stairs, but you soon felt a hand capture your wrist.

Turning around, you saw Harry staring right into your eyes, but he still held a bit of a gap between the two of you. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You looked around for a bit, and then looked down at the contact you had on your skin from him before looking into Harry’s eyes. “I don’t think it would be very wise for us to be seen like that in the open. I doubt we’ll see anyone we know here, but I had that same thought before seeing you and…here we are.”

“You’re right,” Harry nodded as he let go of you, and he stood up straight to run a hand over the button-up he had on - smoothing out the creases. “I’m sorry. I’ve already overstepped enough as it is. Goodnight, Y/N.”

Your eyes lingered on him as he turned to walk away, and although you were still on the stage for everyone to see, you reached out to wrap your hand around his bicep. Harry’s eyes looked down at where your hand held him, and you felt a stutter in your pulse once he looked at your face. “Follow me.”

The two of you didn’t speak another word as you led him off the stage and down the hallway of the club towards your own personal room. You were able to use this room however you saw fit, but you had never had someone in here with you before. As you dragged  Harry in behind you, you could feel your heart thumping against your chest.

“Sit,” you gestured towards the armchair that was across from the couch in the room - separated by a thin coffee table. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

Walking over to the bar in the corner, you poured you and Harry both a glass of bourbon. You guessed that’s what he liked to drink based on the color of the liquor you had seen that night. As you walked back over, you extended the glass out to him. “I hope this is right. I kind of guessed at what you like.”

“It is,” Harry nodded as he took it from you, and you walked over to the couch. You slouched against it, and the two of you raised your glasses in a silent ‘cheers’ before taking a sip.

The clinking of the ice against your glasses was the only sound resonating in the room for a while before you heard Harry clear his throat. 

“Can I ask how you first got into Shibari?”

“My ex,” you shrugged as you extended your legs out further on the couch, letting the two of them extend over one of the arms while your cheek rested against the opposite one - your eyes set on Harry. “It intrigued me while we were together. We indulged in it quite often and I enjoyed it. We’ve been broken up for almost a year now, but I was pursuing a different job a few months ago and this popped up. I don’t like to be tied up all the time while being intimate, of course. It just really excites me from time to time.”

You weren’t so sure why you were being so open and honest with your handsome professor, but you felt comfortable with him. Obviously he was in this club, he wasn’t here to judge, and that gave you some reassurance.

“Can I ask you a question now?” You ran the tip of your finger around the rim of your glass, and you watched as Harry nodded. “I had never seen you in the club before the other night. Was that your first time, or have we just somehow managed to avoid each other?”

Harry chuckled as he looked down into his glass that he was holding in his two hands between his thighs - properly manspread in the armchair he was occupying. “I’ve been coming here for a while, actually, but I tend to bounce around. It just so happened the night I wanted to check out something new, and decided on the Shibari scene, you were the participant.” 

It was silent again for a moment as you both kept sipping from your drinks before you decided to speak again.

“Why did you stay that night? You had to have realized it was me.”

“I did,” Harry looked up from his glass so he was holding your eyes. “And I stayed because I couldn’t get over how you looked tied up like that. Like I said, it was my first time seeing Shibari in general, and you made it look so beautiful - so elegant.”

You sucked in a deep breath as you processed his words before responding. “And the scene part of it? Why did you stay and watch that?”

“I wanted to know what you look like when you come.”

Pressing your thighs together subconsciously, you swallowed down the whimper that almost escaped you. Hearing him say that so openly, and without hesitation, had you starting to tingle all over.

“You were hard,” you whispered.

“Very,” Harry nodded before taking another sip of his bourbon.

“You touched yourself while you stared at me.”

“I did. I tried to resist for some time, but after a while, I just couldn’t help myself,” you watched as Harry’s eyes dropped to where your thighs were still glued to each other, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Did you…had you thought of me in that way before?” You asked. You weren’t sure exactly how that would make you feel if he had looked or thought of you in this kind of nature before. “Like have you thought of me in that way just from me being in your class?”

Harry shook his head. “I promise you that I hadn’t before the other night. Seeing you on that stage was the first time I ever viewed you as anything other than my student.”

If you thought the air around the two of you had shifted already, you were wrong. Hearing him confirm that he was truly seeing you differently now, and that it wasn’t until this club that he had, it was clear that the dynamic between the two of you was beginning to change. Quickly.

“And now?”

“Why do you think I volunteered to be the one responsible for having those knots press into your pretty skin tonight?” Harry tilted his head to the side as he let his eyes run over the length of your body. “You’ve intrigued me, Y/N. I’m more than aware of how wrong this is, but I can’t stop thinking about you - no matter how hard I try.”

Taking in a shaky breath, you sat up straight on the couch and downed the rest of the liquor in your glass before setting it down on the table, and you watched as Harry did the same.

“What do you think about when you think of me?” You were teetering into dangerous territory now. You well aware that you were, but you just couldn’t stop. Truthfully, you felt you were already in too deep.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about whether or not I’m delusional,” Harry started to spin the ring that was around his middle finger. “I question if I'm right in thinking that your moans changed that night when you noticed me touching myself while looking at you.”

You couldn’t help but gasp at the fact that he noticed that. You weren’t sure it was that obvious that your moans had changed once you could see Harry’s clear hard on, and that he was touching himself to the sight of your body, but clearly it had been something he couldn’t miss.

It grew just as silent as it was when the two of you first entered the room before Harry stood - making his way over to you. Your hands dropped from your lap to curl around the edges of the couch cushions underneath you as Harry came to stand between your legs, and he brought one of his feet back to press against the coffee table with the sole of his shoe to move it backwards. 

“Are you going to put me out of my misery? Or are you going to allow me to continue to suffer with those thoughts?”

“Yes,” the word barely came out as you watched Harry lower himself down onto his knees.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, my moans changed.”

Harry’s eyes wandered over your face, and his throat expanded as he stared up at you. “Why?”

You paused for a moment as you contemplated whether or not you should give him the real reason. If you admitted this information to him, you wouldn’t just be teetering on the line of dangerous territory anymore - you’d be diving headfirst into it. But the sight of Harry on his knees in front of you, as if he were so desperate for answers that he’d put himself in a vulnerable-like position, your mind had grown a bit fuzzy.

“Because once I saw how hard you were, and that you were touching yourself, I couldn’t help but picture that it was you who was eating me out.”

There was only a beat of quiet before Harry groaned and dropped his forehead to rest on the inside of one of your thighs. You hesitantly raised your hand before reaching forward to run your fingers through his cropped hair - causing Harry to lean even further against you.

“You’re right. This is wrong,” you said in agreement to the statement he made earlier, but you made no movement to retract your touch.

“Then tell me to get up,” Harry blinked his eyes back open as they met your own once more. “Tell me to walk out right now, and I’ll leave. I’ll sign your transfer on Monday. We’ll forget about all of this.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you stayed in your same position, and a few seconds passed before Harry pushed himself up to sit higher on his knees. He leaned forward so his face was just inches from yours - eyes dancing over each other's faces.

“Tell me to go, Y/N,” you could hear the strain in his voice.

Your hands started to shake as you raised them to rest on the sides of his neck, and you took the time to really drink in his features considering you had never been able to take him in this closely before. Leaning forward, you still left the littlest bit of space between your faces as you knocked your bottom lip against his top one. You could tell that Harry’s hands had crept forward as well, and you felt him toying with the tie of your robe.

You allowed him to pull it all the way loose, and once your robe fell open, Harry’s large palms ghosted across the tops of your thighs before traveling up your abdomen. He cupped right under your rib cage - the pads of his thumbs caressing right where your nipples would be from over your bra. A small moan left your mouth as you moved your head to have your lips tapping again, but this time you kept them there as you and Harry held each other’s eyes.

“Har-” You went to speak his name, but he cut you off by gluing your mouths together entirely, and you heard that groan that rattled in his throat.

One of his hands stayed on your abdomen, but the other reached up to tangle itself into the back of your hair. He tugged at it slightly, which caused you to gasp against his lips, and he took that opportunity to roll his tongue out and against yours. You opened your legs even further so that you could pull him closer - your heart pounding in your chest. This was hands down the riskiest thing you had ever done in your life, but something about the thrill of it all just had you turned on that much more.

You arched your back to have your robe falling off your body completely, and Harry pulled back so that he could look over you. “Shit,” he whispered, shaking his head before leaning back in to kiss over the side of your neck - journeying down over your collarbone while dropping his hands to your thighs. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

Harry lifted his body up so he was hovering over you as he pushed your thighs further apart. He continued to kiss down your body - stopping to suck gently on one of the swells of your breasts. You whimpered as you threw your head back against the couch, and you reached down to lace one set of your fingers with his. Harry wasn’t sure what it was about you doing that, but that one small gesture had his heart fluttering in the midst of all your lust.

“Will you let me make those images you had thought up in your head a reality, baby?” He brought your connected hands up to press a kiss to the back of yours.

“Yes,” you nodded your head adamantly as you kept your head against the back of the couch, but you dropped your eyes down to look at him. “Please.”

Harry lowered  your hands, still keeping them together, to rest on the cushion beside one of your legs. His other hand found its way between your thighs, and he brushed the pad of his thumb over your clit through the material of your underwear. He hummed as he could already feel it pulsing against his digit before dragging it down your covered slit. Licking over his bottom lip, he pushed a little harder so that he could feel how wet you were, and he was met with dampness starting to seep through.

“When did this start, hm? Was it when she was tying you up on stage?”

“No,” you swallowed harshly, and then moaned as Harry dragged his thumb back up to your clit - beginning to rub in precise circles. “It was when you started tying me up.”

You leaned your head to the side to rest your cheek on your shoulder as you kept a close eye on Harry’s every move, and you watched as a smirk grew on his perfect pink lips. “Does things to me that I can get you this wet without even having to really touch you. Can I take these off?”

“You don’t have to keep asking me for permission, Harry. Do whatever you want to me.”

Harry stared into your eyes as he let your hand go so that he could wrap both sets of his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips as he started to pull them down, and goosebumps covered your skin at the cool feeling against your core now that you were exposed to the air in the room. After tossing the undergarment to the side, Harry’s fingertips ghosted up the outside of your legs until he got to your knees, and one at a time, he draped the crooks of them over his shoulders.

“If I do anything you don’t like, or you want me to do something differently, you just tell me, alright?” He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you shuttered at just how close he was to where you wanted him most.

“I will, I promise. Just please…touch me,” if you weren’t so desperate for him, and blinded by the need for his mouth on you, you would’ve cringed at how whiny you sounded begging for him, but you couldn’t be bothered at the moment.

“I hope I live up to your expectations. I hope that I exceed them.”

With the first touch of the tip of Harry’s tongue against your clit, your eyes slipped shut, and your hand found its way into his hair again. You tugged on it as he swirled his tongue around the nub before sucking it between his lips. He hummed against you, and the vibrations had you clenching down around nothing as you bucked your hips up against his mouth.

“Harry, fuck,” you gasped as your toes curled. 

He was hardly doing anything to you yet, and you already were unable to keep still from just how good it felt. Parting his lips, Harry open-mouthed kissed his way down, properly making out with your cunt, before he began to lap at your dripping entrance. Your thighs threatened to close around his head as your brought your other hand up to join with the other, and you held one against the back of Harry’s head, the other continuing to run through his hair - pulling on it every now and then.

“You’re so messy down here, honey,” Harry blew against your hole, and you knew he could see that was causing it to pulse - desperately wanting to be filled. “Dripping all over my chin, but you taste so good, Y/N. I think I’m gonna be fucking addicted to your sweet pussy.”

His words left you breathless, and that feeling increased even further as he plunged his tongue inside of you while rutting the tip of his nose against your swollen bud. Biting down on your bottom lip, you tried to conceal just how loud you wanted to cry out for him, as if you had any reason to be quiet in the environment you were in. You made a noise of distress as you felt Harry’s mouth leave you again, but you were immediately met with a smack of his fingers against your core.

“Don’t you dare hide your noises from me,” Harry’s voice was stern as he then massaged his fingers against the area of impact to soothe it. “Let me hear you.”

He didn’t spare another second as he dove right back in, but this time, his lips were back around your clit, and he slipped his middle and ring fingers inside of you. A loud mewl flooded from your lungs as your hold on Harry’s hair grew tighter, and you began to roll your hips in time with the lapping of his tongue against your nub.

“You’re so fucking good,” you could barely get the words out as your thighs began to tremble again. “Never had someone eat me out like this before.”

You weren’t lying. Harry had such a vigor to the way he feasted on you, and you could tell he was focused more on giving you the utmost pleasure more than anything else.

His long and thick fingers plunged in and out of you - the coolness of his rings a stark contrast to how warm your core had become. Once he curled the tips of said fingers, and rubbed the pads of them right against your g-spot, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to hold off an orgasm much longer. 

“I’m gonna come soon.”

Those words had Harry working even harder against you - slipping in another finger and sucking harder on your clit. You matched his energy as you rocked your hips with more precision, and you could feel that band in your lower abdomen stretching to its fullest capacity. You knew it was going to snap any second.

“Harry,” your whole body tensed up, and your thighs were now trapping him in. “Oh, I’m…I’m coming.”

The band in your stomach shattered, and you let out the mix between a small scream and a moan as you felt yourself gushing around Harry’s fingers. He continued to work you through your high, almost to the point of overstimulation, before you dropped one of your legs and pressed the arch of your foot against his shoulder to push him back.  Your eyes fluttered open as you watched Harry bring his fingers up to his lips, humming as he cleaned your orgasm off of them. 

Sitting up, you grabbed his face to pull his mouth against yours, and you groaned as you tasted yourself on his tongue, but that just made everything hotter to you. You pulled back and kissed over the side of his neck before quickly moving the two of you so that he was now sitting on the couch, and with still shaking legs, you kneeled between his own.

“Your turn,” your chest heaved as you were still trying to catch your breath, and you reached forward to start undoing his belt after untucking his shirt from his trousers. Harry pushed himself up a bit higher on the couch by pressing his palms down against the cushions, and you glanced up at him with a smirk on your lips.

After getting the buckle undone, you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and just as you were going to pull the belt loose from the loops, Harry’s hands came down and captured your wrists. You looked at him with your lips parted and your eyes wide. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were shut tight - almost as if he was pained to look down and see your actions.

“Y/N. Stop.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you swallowed harshly as your hands began to shake. “I don’t have to. I didn’t mean to-”

“I can’t do this,” Harry shook his head as he moved your arms back so your hands dropped by your sides, and you remained on your knees while he stood up from the couch.

You watched him do his trousers and his belt back up, and your mouth opened and closed as you tried to think of what to say as he started towards the door.

“What…what just happened?” You asked, embarrassment washing over you. “Why are you leaving?”

Harry stopped with his hand around the doorknob, and you could see him glancing at you halfway over his shoulder, but instead of giving you any type of response, he opened the door and walked out. 

Rubbing your hands over the tops of your thighs, you stared blankly at the couch in front of you as you tried to understand Harry just leaving you the way he did. He seemed so into it. From the way that he was talking to you, to the way that he practically acted like he couldn’t get enough of you, this was the last thing that you expected to happen. Sighing, you pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes as you tried not to let yourself get too upset over this, but the open-endedness of it all had your mind reeling.

You gave yourself a few more minutes before you pushed yourself up from the floor, and you removed your fancy bra and changed back into comfy clothes so that you could go home for the night. Thoughts of what Monday was going to bring were rushing through your head, but you tried to push them down for the time being. You knew this would be another weekend of you trying to figure out how to move forward in the complicated situation you found yourself in with Harry, but this time, you weren’t even sure how you could ever face him again.

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

When Harry walked in and found you sitting in his classroom two weeks after the night you shared at Silk & Lace, he was a bit shocked. You had missed his next two classes, and he was sure that you were just going to either drop the course, or force him to drop you due to not continuing to attend. He froze when he saw you, but he was sure it was brief enough that no one else would’ve noticed, but you definitely did. 

You had decided that you needed time before seeing him again, so you skipped out the past two weeks. This past Saturday was the only other shift you had had at the club since that night, and you felt a bit foolish as you hoped that Harry would show up to try and talk to you - to explain what happened and apologize. Of course he didn’t show up. Why would he? He made it clear when he ran out of the room that night that he regretted what the two of you did, and you could only come to the conclusion that he was disgusted with not only himself, but also with you.

Bailey had noticed you had been off, and you had avoided seeing her outside of classes as much as you could. You knew if you went to the cafe with her that she would start to question you as to what was going on. It wasn’t like you could be honest with her at all about what happened with Harry. There were so many layers to that conversation you would have to have, and honestly, you didn’t have the energy for it right now. You kept making up the excuse that you were exhausted from both schoolwork and tutoring, but you knew that would only work for so long.

Once class ended, you let Bailey know that you had something that you needed to take care of between classes, and that you’d catch up with her later. The look she gave you was skeptical, but she didn’t try and pry, which you were grateful for. You busied yourself as your classmates left, acting as if you were organizing things to fit properly in your bag, and once everyone was gone, you approached Harry’s desk with your binder tight against your chest.

Swallowing harshly, you pulled the class transfer form from the front pocket, and you extended it out to him with a shaking hand - tears in your eyes. You felt silly for crying, but you couldn’t help it. The way he left you had you feeling so many different things. Things you still couldn’t properly wrap your head around.

Harry avoided looking up at you as he reached out to take the form, and you watched as he quickly scribbled his signature on the appropriate line before handing it back to you. As he continued to type on the computer, you stood there for a moment as anger started to take you over completely.

“Did you get what you were looking for that night?”

He still continued to type. To ignore.

“Tell me, Professor, what got you off more?” Your tone was sarcastic as you tilted your head to the side. “Was it the taste of my cunt on your tongue, or what is it the fact you had managed to wedge your head between the thighs of someone ten years younger than you?”

Harry’s typing quickly ceased, and he glanced over at the open door before looking up at you. It pissed you off that the sight of his beautiful green eyes behind those glasses still caused a feeling to stir in your stomach, but you pushed it away as he spoke up. “We cannot talk about that here.”

“No? Where would you like to then?” A laugh crawled its way up your throat. “You had the perfect opportunity to talk to me about it that night, but you ran out on me. My thighs were still fucking shaking from my orgasm when you left me there on my knees.”

“Y/N. Lower your voice,” Harry’s tone was clipped as his brows narrowed.

“You made me feel pathetic, but I guess I should’ve known it was never about me. It was just easy for you because the hard part was already done. You knew what I was into. You knew sex wasn’t something I was ashamed of, and you got me to admit to having thoughts I shouldn’t have about you. I fell right into your plan, didn’t I, Harry?”

Lifting your hand, you angrily wiped at the tears that had started to stream down your cheeks as you sucked in a deep breath. It was quiet between the two of you for a moment, so you decided to continue since it was clear Harry wasn’t going to answer you.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, but that’s mostly because I’m ashamed to let anyone know I was too naive to see it for anything more than what it truly was,” you bit at him.

“Yeah, and what was that?” His voice was even harsher now, and it almost made you draw back, but you held strong to what you were saying.

“I was just a fetish to you. A kink. And I should’ve realized that sooner because that’s literally why I’m there at that club. To allow people to indulge in a fantasy, and then go back to their normal lives the next day. I hate myself for thinking that would be any different when it came to you.”

You didn’t allow him the courtesy of giving you a response as you quickly turned around and walked out of his classroom - Harry making no indication of trying to stop you. 

There was a part of you that had been holding tight to the fact that after you got your transfer form signed, that the weight you were feeling in your chest over all of this would be lifted, but now, it was just heavier. Not wanting to wait any longer to get this done and over with, you started down the hallway towards the administrative offices so that you could turn in the form, and get a new course as soon as possible.

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

After taking some time off from the club, giving yourself a nice mental break after everything that had happened with Harry, you found you were a couple hundred bucks short on your rent. Tonight you were back up on the stage for the first time in over a month - doing both a demonstration and a scene. The demonstration went well, however, when your partner bent you over the bench as they usually did, starting up the scene part of all of this, they felt your body instantly tense up.

He walked around to the side of the bench so that he was covering your face from the crowd, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Y/N, are you alright?”

Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself down, but you knew you weren’t going to be able to. You hadn’t done anything sexual wise with anyone since Harry. Hell, you hadn’t done anything sexual outside of scenes in a while before Harry. You knew the minute your partner started to go down on you, all you were going to do was compare. That it wasn’t him. That it didn’t feel as good. 

“No,” you whispered. You knew you needed to call it. “I don’t think I can do this tonight.”

“That’s alright,” your partner ran a tender hand down your back to soothe you before helping you stand up. “I’m glad you’re telling me. Let’s get you untied, okay?”

Nodding, he turned you away from the audience and took you off the stage to untie you so that you weren’t in front of everyone when you were this vulnerable. The person that always helped set up the stage came over with your robe, and they helped you into it once your body was free of the cord knots.

“Thank you guys,” you wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked between the two of them. “I’m sorry. I’m just not in the right state of mind. The demonstration was okay…I just can’t do scenes right now.”

“Y/N,” your partner walked forward and pulled you into their chest. Leaning into him, you wrapped your arms around his torso as you sighed happily.

It had been a while since you had someone hug you like this. You had closed yourself off from everyone over these past few weeks after everything happened. Even though isolation was never your intention, it was ultimately the result of how you were choosing to cope with your current situation.

You remained in your partner’s arms for just a while before pulling back. “I needed that.”

“If you need anything else, you let me know. We’re all here for you.”

One thing about the club - they took everyone’s mental health very seriously. If anyone was struggling, everyone rallied together to do whatever was needed to help. You had no worries about your money after calling the scene tonight as the owners have always made it very clear that you would never be penalized for tapping out of something you didn’t feel comfortable with. That’s one of the main reasons you decided to join their team here. They actually cared about the well being of their employees.

Deciding that you needed to call it an early night, you started to walk towards your private room, and as you did, you heard your name being called from a distance. You stopped, eyes glancing around to search the groups of people around you before they landed on him.

Harry.

With a twitching jaw, you quickly turned away and started walking towards your original destination at a faster pace. You had nothing to say to him, and as far as you were concerned, there was nothing of worth he could say to you either. Harry ended up catching up to you, falling into a perfect pace with your steps, but you kept your sight forward.

“Y/N, please,” there was a hint of pleading to his tone, but you wouldn’t let it shake you. “I just want to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Harry - especially after you waited this long.”

“I know, alright? I know that I fucked up, but I do want to explain. I know I don’t deserve it. I know that I hurt you, and I feel like the biggest fuck-up in the world for that. I just…there’s things that I wish I could’ve told you that night. Things that I find really hard to talk about and explain. I’ve worked through it as best as I could to get to this point, and I feel ready to talk about it with you,” Harry had to resist reaching out to grab your hand, or to even just touch your wrist. 

You stopped walking after hearing what he had to say, and you gave yourself a moment before looking over at him. It was hard to believe, but you had almost forgotten just how handsome he was after going without seeing him for some time. With his chiseled jawline, and his sculpted features, he truly was one of the prettiest people you had ever come across in your life. Your mind and your heart were at war with each other. Your mind said to continue telling him to fuck off - that he had done enough, and you had finally started to move on. But your heart was eager to have him explain what happened as his demeanor did give off the impression that he was feeling guilty about it all.

“I don’t want to talk here,” Harry continued. “You said that I only wanted you here so that I could forget about you the next day and carry on with my normal life, but that’s not the case. So, I don’t want to do this here tonight. This place may have had me start seeing you in a different light, however, I don’t want you just up on that stage or in your room. Would you feel comfortable coming back to mine once you’re ready to go?”

Looking around, you wrapped your arms around yourself, and you brushed your palms up and down the outside of your arms - feeling small for the first time ever under his gaze. “I’ll think about it. I’ll have an answer for you once I’m done getting changed.”

“Take however long you need,” Harry nodded as he tucked his hands into the pockets of trousers. “I won’t be going anywhere until either you’re coming with me, or you tell me to leave.”

Your eyes trailed over him for a moment. “Okay,” you whispered before starting towards the hallway that you had been aiming for all along.

Once you got into your room, you dropped your arms back down by your side - shaking them out. You walked over to your wardrobe, and you pulled off your robe and the lingerie you had worn tonight, and you started to change back into a pair of mom jeans and a plain t-shirt. Walking over to your vanity, you sat down and stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You knew that you were stalling, but you were nervous.

As much as you were leaning more towards hearing Harry out, you also were worried that if things didn’t go your way, you’d be right back to step one when it came to trying to heal from this whole situation. You weren’t sure how you would handle having to try to get over him all over again when you thought there was a chance this could actually work out for the two of you.

“One more night,” you whispered to your reflection. “The only other chance you’ll give him, and that’s it.”

You pushed yourself up and grabbed your bag, draping the strap over your shoulder before heading back out into the main floor of the club. Looking around, your eyes searched for Harry, and soon you found him at the bar - hunched over what appeared to be a glass of bourbon. You rolled your shoulders back as you walked over to him. Raising your arm, you rested your elbow up against the bar as you slipped between two barstools with your body turned to face Harry’s.

“Ready?” You asked after clearing your throat.

Harry jumped a bit at the sound of your voice, and his lips parted as he raised his eyebrows. “You’ll come with me?”

“Yep. Let’s go before I change my mind. I’ll follow you to your place in my car.”

Not having to be told twice, Harry stood from the bar and threw a twenty down to cover his drink and a nice tip before hovering his hand over your lower back. “After you.”

The two of you walked out of the club and towards the parking lot, and you stopped by your car once you reached it. Harry pointed a few rows back to his own car. “I’ll go ahead and pull around so that you can follow behind me. Are you sure you don’t just want me to drive?”

“No thank you,” you shook your head. “I’d like to have my car in case I change my mind and want to leave.”

A frown tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips before he nodded. “Right. Well…I’ll see you soon.”

You kept your eyes on his back as he walked towards his car, and when you saw him getting into his car, you got into yours. Once you were following behind him, it only took about fifteen minutes until the two of you were heading down a driveway - parking in front of a medium sized home. You weren’t sure why it surprised you that a single man like Harry lived in a house, and not some type of flat in the busier part of town, but there was something very appealing about it.

Getting out of your car, you trailed behind him a bit as you made your way onto the front porch, and soon you were stepping into the foyer of his home. You looked around while shrugging the strap of your bag off your shoulder - setting it on the small table that was flush against the wall by the door.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Harry asked as he shrugged off the blazer he was wearing, and you watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to the creases of his elbows. You couldn’t help but remember what Bailey had said that day at the cafe, about how hot it was whenever he did that, and you hated that your mind was going there when you still wanted to be angry with him.

“Please.”

“Let me get you into the living room, and then I’ll grab us some.”

You followed Harry through a short hallway, and soon you were in a room with a couple of armchairs and a couch. A large rug was splayed in the middle of the floor, and a decently sized TV was mounted on the wall right across from the couch. There was a bookshelf filled to the brim tucked inside the corner, and a fireplace was built into one of the walls.

“Please sit, I’ll be just a moment,” Harry gestured in front of him as he spoke, and you watched as he disappeared a little further down the hall. 

Sighing, you dropped down into the armchair that was furthest away from the couch, and you nervously ran your hands up and down your thighs. It didn’t take long for Harry to return - extending a glass of bourbon out in your direction, which you took with a soft ‘thank you’.

It felt like a bit of deja vu when Harry sat down on the couch that was diagonally across from you. Crossing one leg over the other, you rested your glass on the top of your knee. Part of you wondered if you should speak up first, but you decided against it. He had asked you here to talk, and you had said everything you needed to say to him in his classroom the last time you saw him. It was his turn to do the talking.

“I want to start by saying, I don’t regret what happened that night, and that me leaving had nothing at all to do with you.”

You kept your eyes down on your drink as Harry spoke - running your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “You’re giving me the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ spiel?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, but you still kept your head down. “I know it sounds so stereotypical, but I have a lot more to explain, alright? I promise that it really was all me. This whole thing is my fault. My anxiety got the best of me that night, and it wasn’t because of what we were doing. I enjoyed every fucking minute of what happened up until my mind decided to go to a dark place that I’ve tried my hardest to forget.

“It had been so long since I had seen someone on their knees like that for me. It’s been a couple of years now. My girlfriend of six years just up and left me one day with no note while I was at work. We had been engaged for six months. I came home to an empty apartment, and that was that. I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in anyone since then.”

“What?” Your head snapped up at the last part of his statement. “You mean…not a single person - not doing anything at all in-”

“Two years,” Harry nodded. “That’s right.”

Each of you took a second to sip at your drinks, but instead of looking back down, you kept your eyes on him as he started to speak again.

“I got overwhelmed because I honestly didn’t expect to feel as much as I did for you once I allowed myself to give in, but kissing you Y/N - that was the most exhilarating thing to happen to me in years. And when I say years, I mean many. Looking back, my ex and I didn’t have a perfect relationship. We grew comfortable. I had suspected she may be cheating, but I looked past it because I didn’t really think there was anyone else out there for me. I didn’t want to go through the trouble of starting all over. Having to date after all that time is intimidating,” Harry ran his fingers through the front of his hair. “I still don’t know if she ever was seeing someone else, and I’m okay with not knowing for sure.

“So, when I saw you down on your knees for me like that, and knowing how vulnerable I was going to be with you, I got scared. I hope you don’t take what I’m about to say next the wrong way, but I was worried that what was going to happen was going to mean way more to me than it was to you. We didn’t discuss what any of it meant, and if it had been just a fun fling for you, I should’ve been okay with that. I would be now, but then, I couldn’t handle it, however, I know I wouldn’t have had a right upset.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Harry held up a hand.

“Just…I guess I’m telling you all of this to let you know how fucking sorry I am, Y/N. I realize how I must’ve made you feel, and I hate that I allowed my own insecurities to get the better of me. I’m an adult. I’m a grown man. I should have talked to you about it instead of just running away,” Harry’s hand shook as he brought his glass back up to his mouth to take a long sip of his liquor.

“I appreciate you being honest with me, but I’m still angry. Just like you said, you’re a grown man, and I understand that anxiety and insecurity can make us feel many different things, but just leaving me on that floor like you did was awful. I felt so worthless. Even though I was the one who got off, I still felt used by you. I see it all the time at the club - people who get off on giving pleasure more than receiving it,” you shifted in your seat a bit. “I thought that’s what had happened. That you just used me to explore that side of you or something, and then you wanted to run off. 

“I am sorry about what happened with you and your ex. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be with someone for that long, and for them to disappear on you out of the blue with no answers. However, I can relate to how your mind probably reacted to that. You thought of every scenario as to why you were just walked out on. It’s a terrible feeling. I want you to know that when I brought you back to my room, I did think that it would be a fun, one-time thing and that we’d move on, but once your mouth was on me, I knew it would be more than that. You took your time to figure out what I liked instead of rushing it, and it had been a while since I had hooked up with someone as well. Not as long as you, but long enough to where it did mean something to me too.”

Harry set his glass down on the coffee table, and he patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Please come sit next to me.”

Hesitation washed over you as you stared at where his hand rested, but eventually you got up and set your drink next to his before sitting down. You still left a good distance between the two of you, but now you were looking into each other’s eyes.

“I’m mad that when I approached you in your classroom, the last time we saw each other, that you didn’t give me any kind of reassurance that you weren’t just using me - especially if you were already starting to work through your reasons why you did what you did,” you told him honestly as you fidgeted with your fingers. 

“I know,” Harry nodded, and he started to reach for your hand, but he stopped himself. He raised his brows in silent permission, but instead of having him be the one to make contact first, you reached forward and grazed the tips of your fingers along the top of his wrist. “I promise that if you give me a chance to make this right, I’ll spend every moment making sure you know that I’m serious about whatever this is. We don’t have to label it right away - we don’t have to label it at all. I would just really like to see where this leads if you’re willing to forgive me.”

Capturing your fingers between his own, Harry then lifted your hands up to his mouth to press kisses to each of your knuckles before sponging one to the inside of your wrist. You wiggled your fingers out of his, and you saw a look of fear flash in his eyes until he felt your palm against his cheek - thumb grazing right underneath his eye. “One more chance, Harry, but that’s it.”

Harry sighed with relief as his eyes fluttered shut, and he cupped your forearm. “Thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve it. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“You don’t deserve it,” you smirked playfully so that he knew you were joking once he blinked his eyes open. “But I know that it takes a lot to be honest with someone like you were with me tonight. It’s not easy, and that alone showed me that you really knew you fucked up.”

“It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable opening up about it to you. I can’t wait to show you how much I want to get to know you.”

Leaning forward, your lips covered Harry’s, and he hummed happily before wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you closer to him so that your chests were flush together - your hand sliding to the bit of his chest that was showing due to a few buttons of his shirt being undone before you mumbled against his mouth.

“I want to get to know you too.”

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

Walking through the hallways of your University after hours, you knew that Harry was still here as you had just texted him to see what he was up to. The two of you exchanged numbers after you left his house a couple of weekends ago, and since then, the two of you had gone on a few dates. It was clear not even halfway through the first date that you had made the right decision by giving him a second chance. He was unlike anyone you had ever allowed to take you out. He opened car doors for you. Pulled your chair out at the table. He even made sure that when you were walking down the street next to each other, that you were always on the inside, and he was always on the outside - closest to the cars. Whenever you got around to meeting his parents, you’d have to thank them for raising him so right.

Harry didn’t know that you would be surprising him here tonight, but something had come over you earlier in the day, and you decided that you couldn’t wait any longer to take the next step with him. It was something the two of you had discussed, but after what happened last time, he said he wanted to take things a bit slower. At this point, you thought he was more scared than you were that you would retreat back into your old headspace, and somehow fall into thinking he was using you again.

You had never spoken with Harry in his office at the University, you had only ever talked to him in his classroom, but you were feeling bold. Adjusting yourself to make sure your trench coat was still covering you completely, the sound of your heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor echoed down the hallway before you were approaching his door. 

Not wanting to falter now, you lifted your fist and knocked against the wooden surface, and you waited until you heard a muffled ‘come in’. 

Fighting off your nerves, you wrapped your hand around the knob and when you walked inside, you watched as Harry moved his head to look around his computer - eyebrows lifting when he saw it was you. “Y/N,” he quickly stood up as you shut the door behind you.

Once he was in front of you, Harry didn’t hold back on pulling you into him immediately. “I wanted to surprise you,” you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”

“Have you missed me, baby?” Harry smirked before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips.

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you tilted your head to the side, and you quickly let your tongue enter his mouth. 

Harry sighed through his nose as he moved the two of you forward so your back was against the door, and he reached down to flick the lock on the knob. His hands gripped to your hips as you arched into him while deepening your kiss even further. It only grew heavier from there, and the next thing you knew, your ankles were crossed against his lower back as he walked you over to his desk. He sat you down on the top of it - knees locked against his hips as you ravished each other’s mouths.

“I have something for you,” you pulled back after a moment, resting your forehead against his.

“Another surprise? I’m more than happy with just having you here.”

“I think you’ll like this one too.”

Your fingers started to undo the buttons of your trench coat once Harry created a bit of distance, however, he didn’t leave the space between your legs. Once your coat was open, you shrugged it off to reveal a mauve pink, lace bodysuit, and you heard the breath that caught in the back of Harry’s throat.

“Y/N,” he whispered as his hands came out to touch you. “I’m…”

“Sit down.”

Harry took another step back, and you lifted your foot to press the heel of your boot against his chest. He stumbled back into his seat before you stood up, only to lower yourself down on your knees between his legs. “Is this okay?” You asked. “I really want to do this for you. Please let me make you feel good.”

It was only a beat of silence before Harry nodded, and just when you thought he was going to go shy on you, one side of his lips curled up. “Go ahead, honey,” he reached down with one hand to undo the buckle of his belt. “Show me what that pouty mouth can do.”

Hearing him speak to you like that again for the first time since you had initially given in had something inside you light up, and you swatted his hand out of the way so you could pull his belt off completely. It was no time before his briefs and his trousers were down around his ankles - his already hard prick slapping up against his stomach. You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of his cock.

“Now I’m angry at you again,” you commented as you looked up into his eyes while wrapping your hand around his shaft.

Harry hissed at the contact - nails digging into the arms of his desk chair. “Why’s that?”

“I’m angry that you didn’t let me have this before. That you’ve been keeping this from me,” you clicked your tongue against your teeth as you shook your head. “We could’ve been having so much fun.” You trailed the tips of your fingers over his beautiful fern tattoos. “I really like these.”

Gathering spit on your tongue, you spat down on his tip, and let it drip down before you started to work your palm over his length. Harry’s hips snapped up subconsciously - causing a cheshire grin to stretch across your lips. 

“I guess I didn’t think this all the way through,” you licked at his slit, and you moaned softly at the taste of the precome leaking from him. “I should’ve brought some rope to tie you up. I could keep you from being so squirmy.”

“Sorry,” Harry gasped as you started to kiss down his shaft. “It just feels so good.”

“Don’t apologize. I like it.”

After planting one final soft kiss against his balls, you lifted back up to close your lips down around his tip. You licked at the prominent vein that ran under his head, and you kept your eyes fixed on Harry as you slowly sunk down on him. 

“Fuck,” he whined as he reached out to gather your hair into his palm - wrapping it around his hand one time to make sure he kept it out of your face. You heard his breath shallow out as you nuzzled your nose into the line of Harry right below his belly button. “You’re unbelievable, baby.”

You lowered yourself down just a bit further before swallowing around him which caused him to moan out with his eyes now rolling into the back of his head. Spit dripped down his length and started to wet the groomed thatch of hair around the base of his cock. You actually liked giving head, and it had been a while since you had done it, so you knew you were enjoying this almost as much as he was.

Giving your throat a bit of a break, you moved back up to suck on his tip as your hand worked the slick part of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He leaked more onto your tongue and you parted your lips so he could see you licking up every last bit of it.

“Look at you,” Harry’s chest heaved as his eyes were now on you again. “Letting me work your tight little throat.”

You moaned around him as you lowered yourself back down - feeling yourself growing wet against your bodysuit. Bobbing your head up and down, you started working him harder, and you felt Harry’s hips stuttering again.

“Y/N,” his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you off his length - making his tip escape your tight lips with a ‘pop’. “I need to be inside of you.”

Nodding, you lifted your hand to wipe the back of it over your mouth as you reached down to your coat on the floor. You dug inside the pocket, and pulled out the condom that you had stashed away before you left your apartment.

“I came prepared, obviously,” you smirked as Harry helped you stand up, and you found yourself, once again, on the top of his desk.

Harry reached down and popped open the buttons on your bodysuit to have your cunt completely exposed, and he ran the tips of his fingers up and down your slit while pecking kisses to your lips. “This is by far the sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You mean showing up here, sucking on your cock and letting you take me on top of your desk?”

Smacking his fingertips against your clit, your pelvis jolted out towards Harry before he rubbed circles against it to ease the sting. “So sassy, but still so sweet. How about you slide that rubber on my cock so I can fill you up with it?”

Your hands trembled with anticipation as you ripped the packaging open, and you let your palm fist him a couple more times before rolling the condom down over his already wet length. 

Holding each other’s eyes, you guided Harry’s tip to your entrance and he tilted his hips forward just slightly to have it press inside of you. You gasped as your breath started to get siphoned from your lungs while he slowly started to enter you entirely - taking his time and treasuring you.

“Such a snug little thing,” he muttered as he dropped the pad of thumb to rub against your throbbing bud. “Swallowing me right up though, aren’t you?”

Your lips rolled into your mouth, and your teeth bared down against them until Harry was fully inside you. From there, your hands flew up to grip at his biceps - your fingers sinking into the dips of his muscles.

“Harry,” you whimpered, feeling so overwhelmed from how full you felt. “I-”

“I know, baby,” his lips sponged against your temple before he trailed them down to the corner of your lips. “It’s a tight fit, but I’ll get you stretched out.”

“No,” your lips pouted as you spread your legs further to pull him even closer, and you clenched down around him. “I don’t want to. I like it tight.”

Harry grunted at the feeling of your walls closing down on his prick, and he pulled the top of your bodysuit down just enough to have your tits springing free. Looking down, he took in the sight of your naked breasts for the first time - licking over his bottom lip.

“How’d I get so fucking lucky, hm? Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, and she’s wrapped around my cock,” he palmed at your chest before pinching your nipples. “You don’t know how happy I am that you gave me a second chance, Y/N.”

“Just promise me you’re not going to leave me with jello legs after making me come again,” you joked as you grazed your palm against his jawline. 

“Never.” Although you were joking, Harry’s voice went serious. “I’m not letting you get away.”

Drawing his hips back, you whined as Harry kept them there for a moment before sinking back in again. It was then he started up a slow pace with your mouths hovering over one another as you stared into each other’s eyes. He was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed, and you had hardly been going at it.

“More,” you whimpered. “Want more.”

Harry wrapped an arm around your waist, locking his forearm against your lower back to have you arching a bit, and his other hand rested against the side of your neck as his thrusts became powered with intent. If you wanted more - he’d have no problem giving you more. The only issue was that he knew it was going to be hard for him to last with how long he had gone without, but he would try to give it to you as long as possible.

“Is that it? Is that more?”

“Yes,” you moaned loudly. “Yes, Harry. Yes.”

He shushed you as he pressed the pad of his thumb against your mouth. “Careful, baby. I know it’s late here, but I might not be the only one still around.”

Separating your lips, you let his digit land against your tongue, and you closed down around it to keep yourself quiet. Harry let out a laugh of disbelief as he stared down at you, and he shook his head.

“Fucking hell,” his hips snapped against yours, and if his desk wasn’t bolted to the ground, you were sure it would be halfway across the room by now. “You like that?”

You nodded as you didn’t cower away from his gaze, and you started to lift your hips to meet his thrusts - that patch of hair surrounding his cock that you had wetted earlier with your spit hitting against your clit so perfectly. Reaching forward, you started to undo the buttons of Harry’s dress shirt, letting it open completely and your eyes widened as the sight of the large butterfly tattooed on his abdomen. You had seen those swallows so they weren’t a surprise, but the one in the center of his torso stunned you a bit.

He was so beautiful. So toned. It blew your mind that he was keeping all of this hidden underneath his dress clothes. You could tell that he was fit, but seeing him practically naked had you realizing just how muscular he was.

As you felt your orgasm approaching, the tips of your teeth clamped down on his thumb, and you fought to keep your eyes open.

“About to come?” Harry asked, and you nodded in response. “Let’s go, honey. Soak me.”

It was like his words truly commanded it, and you felt your climax wash over you. You sighed around his thumb before closing your eyes and letting your lips part. It felt like you could hardly hold yourself up at this point, but you wanted to keep giving it back to Harry so that you could feel him finish for the first time too.

Once Harry rode you through your orgasm completely, you opened your eyes again, and you ran your palms up and down bare chest. “It’s your turn now.”

Locking in, you met his thrusts even more than you were before, and this time, you shoved your thumb into his mouth instead. His eyes widened a bit, but then you saw his signature smirk peeking through as he started to suck on it - just as you had his a few moments ago. 

“Come on, Harry.”

Playing a bit dirty, you clenched around him, and that was it for him. He groaned as white ropes of pleasure filled the condom while he continued to pump into you before he collapsed against your chest. You pulled your thumb from his mouth so that you could wrap your arms around him - keeping him close to you.

“That was so good,” you praised him, pressing kisses against his cheek. “Oh my god.”

Harry lifted up after a minute and held your face in his hands before pulling you into a passionate kiss. Your heart swelled as you started to tingle even more than you were from your orgasm, and once you pulled away, small giggles escaped your mouth.

“Y/N,” his nose bumped against the tip of yours. “I want you. We can be smart about this, and technically you’re no longer my student so we’re not crossing lines now, but we still have to be careful.”

“I know. I want you too, Harry. It’s hard to explain how I feel around you, but I just…I want to be around you all the time. That’s why I showed up tonight. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

The smile that crossed his features caused one to press onto your lips as well, and the two of you shared a small fit of laughter.

“So, we’re doing this?” You asked.

“Yeah, honey,” Harry nodded as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re doing this.”

✵ • ✵ • ✵ • ✵

off campus housing was a curse sometimes.

but, if you had the option between dorming it out or paying for an apartment yourself, maybe it could be categorized as both a blessing and a curse.

but for YN and harry, it’s just a curse.

a dorm wasn’t in the cards for them in general—it was hard enough drowning in loans for tuition itself, and adding thousands more for shitty campus housing was just overboard.

but still, the illusion of choice would’ve been nice.

they lived in carson hall, off campus apartments that were filled to the brim with students. there might’ve been a few tenants in the building that weren’t a student, but they were probably there for the same reason as everyone else—affordability.

$850 per month felt like a rarity, and it was pretty much unheard of in new york. so, if you were a broke student that couldn’t dorm, this was your saving grace.

if the walls in the unit weren’t brick, it was cheap drywall that had the paint chipping off. there was a radiator that broke every month like clockwork, sat right underneath a window with glass so thin it shook with the breeze.

there was no carpet except for in the main lobby, everything else was either tiled linoleum and creaky wooden floors installed in the 90’s. there was a communal laundry unit in the basement that required four quarters exactly, nothing else. sometimes it’d swallow the coins, sometimes it wouldn’t, and sometimes it’d eat their coins and wouldn’t turn on at all.

there was a maintenance man that lived on the first floor—living there for half the rent since he was on call 24/7 on the weekdays to fix anything the apartment complex needed—but you’d have to be the luckiest person on earth for him to respond. if the washer ate your quarters, chances are, you won’t be getting them back. and if the sink continued to drip water in rhythm with your heartbeat, you’d be better off watching a youtube tutorial on plumbing basics than calling for the maintenance guy.

but, it was four walls and a roof—not to mention, it was only a five minute walk from the dining hall (the heart of campus, obviously).

YN and harry didn’t know each other, not exactly. they lived on the same floor, and harry was the guy that was known for dealing to make rent and loan payments.

and YN was the girl that always had sleepy eyes and smelt of vanilla and cinnamon—sugar and spice.

but that was it between them, fleeting glances of acknowledgment and the lingering scent of vanilla laced with weed in the hallway.

all until the first knock tapped against his door at one-thirty in the morning.

it was one of those nights where the due dates of assignments pressed down heavy, like it was daring you to breathe under the weight.

harry’s radiator was hissing again, spitting steam into his tiny apartment, a kind of mocking applause for everything breaking down. his desk was cluttered with blueprints—half-sketched, smudged, unfinished—and on the counter, the last edible he'd cut sat wrapped in foil, waiting for whoever was desperate enough to buy it.

the knock was soft. hesitant. not the kind of knock that screamed cops or where's the party? harry almost didn't get up. whatever it was, it could wait.

but something about it—how it lingered, quiet but insistent—dragged him to the door. barefoot, wearing nothing but a ratty tshirt and sweatpants, he swung it open without bothering to check who it was.

YN.

the girl who always smelled like a fucking christmas cookie. she stood in the hallway like she'd been arguing with herself for hours, her arms wrapped around her torso to keep warm. she didn't say anything right away, just looked at him with wide, tired eyes.

harry leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "are y’lost?"

her voice came out softer than he expected. “i need…something.”

he raised an eyebrow, scanning her quickly—her pink sweatpants, the hoodie that was two sizes too big, the way she kept glancing at the floor like she hated being here. "that's specific. milk? a lightbulb? help moving a body?"

"for my roommate," she rushed, ignoring the bite in his tone. "she's—she's having a panic attack or something, some stupid argument with her boyfriend i think—and i don't have anything that can help."

harry stared at her.

her voice cracked, the desperation cutting through the cool front she was trying to hold. "it's late, and the pharmacies are closed, and i just—someone said you might have something."

"someone.” he repeated, pushing off the doorframe, his tone sharp enough to slice through her composure.

"please."

something about that word caught him off guard. not the word itself, but the way she said it—like she was embarrassed to use it, like it physically hurt to ask him for anything. harry sighed, stepping back. "wait there."

he crossed the room to the counter, digging through the shoebox that held the operation he kept as low-key as possible. the old baggie of edibles rustled faintly in his hands, and for a second, he thought about saying no. this wasn't his problem.

but he grabbed one anyway, turning back to find her still standing in the hallway, arms wrapped tighter around herself. he shoved the baggie into her hand. "take this and go."

she hesitated, looking down at it. "is it safe?"

harry's laugh came out sharp and humorless. "you knock on my door at one in the morning, asking for something t’fix a panic attack, and you're worried about FDA approval? yeah, it's safe. s’low-dose."

her fingers curled around the bag. "how much do i owe you?"

he shook his head, already tired of this conversation. "don't worry about it. just go."

YN started to turn, but her gaze caught on the cluttered desk in the corner—blueprints stacked in uneven piles, a half-empty coffee cup balancing on the edge. "what's all that?" she asked, her voice quiet but curious.

"none of your business."

he stepped forward and shut the door before she could ask anything else. the lock clicked, and for a long second, he stood there, staring at the closed door, wondering why the hell he'd helped her at all.

*

friday nights strained. not the kind that made you feel like you’d accomplished something. no, this was the other kind. the kind that made harry want to throw his phone into the east river and spend the rest of the weekend in bed, ignoring the world.

by eight pm, the texts started rolling in like they always did.

can u drop to sigma chi?

emergency. we need molly asap. paying extra if u can get here by 10.

it wasn’t glamorous. it wasn’t even fun. but it paid the rent.

harry sat at his desk, staring at the mess of blueprints he hadn’t touched all week, his phone lighting up next to him with another text. the math was simple: weed, molly, shrooms, lsd. nothing heavy, nothing messy, and no one under twenty-one.

he grabbed his backpack, already packed from the night before—a hollowed-out calculus textbook buried inside. it was beat to shit, but nobody looked twice at a guy carrying around a heavy book and a bookbag on campus.

the first stop was sigma chi. always sigma chi.

by the time he got there, the party was in full swing. the air reeked of spilled beer and too much cologne, bass pounding through the walls like a heartbeat that refused to die. harry slipped in through the side door, past a crowd of girls laughing too loudly and holding plastic cups like they were accessories.

the guy waiting for him was leaned against the fridge, his baseball cap turned backwards, a grin plastered on his face. “harry, my man!”

he didn’t answer. didn’t smile. instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small baggie, handing it over like he was exchanging a pack of gum. the guy shoved some crumpled twenties into harry’s hand, already too distracted by his phone to say anything else.

“you’re a lifesaver, bro.”

he left through the back door without another word.

weekends were always like this. frat houses, dorm rooms, random street corners. most fridays, he had ten stops, maybe more if people got desperate.

his phone buzzed constantly. texts rolling in every fifteen minutes:

can you meet by the bodega?

do u have anything stronger? asking for a friend.

the last one made him roll his eyes. he didn’t do stronger. stronger got people killed, got cops asking questions. harry wasn’t stupid. this wasn’t about partying or fun; it was money.

he started dealing during his first year at nyu. not because he wanted to, but because the scholarships didn’t cover everything, and student loans only went so far.

at first, it was just weed. his guy, jeff, lived in brooklyn—a family man with a college degree, a wife, and two kids. harry used to think guys like jeff had it figured out: the house in a decent neighborhood, the minivan parked out front, the soccer games on weekends. but his life was no more stable than harry’s.

jeff’s business wasn’t just selling weed—it was growing it, right in his basement. his wife knew, of course. they kept it far from the kids, locked up tight behind a door that might as well have been a vault.

he hadn’t started out as a dealer, either. he ran his own small business—some business marketing firm that couldn’t compete with the bigger guys. now, the basement was his fallback, extra income, and harry couldn’t help but see a version of himself in jeff. same fire, same hustle, same gnawing ache of more, more, more.

“this isn’t enough,” he had said one night, halfway through weighing a fresh batch. the house smelled faintly of citrus and pine, a scent jeff swore masked the weed smell. “you ever thought about branching out?”

harry frowned, leaning back against the workbench “branching out how?”

“psychedelics—shrooms, lsd. same crowd, bigger profit. no one’s getting hooked, no one’s overdosing. it’s clean.”

harry’s gut twisted. he didn’t like the sound of it—too messy, too big. “i dunno, mate. weed’s easy. i don’t want t’get in deeper.”

jeff leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “i get it. but you’re already in. and if you play it smart, you don’t have to worry about the cops, or junkies, or any of that shit. i know a guy in the bronx—mutual friend. you’d like him. solid guy, clean product.”

he hesitated, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. “y’really think it’s worth it?”

jeff smiled faintly, shrugging. “depends on what you want. if it’s just enough to scrape by, keep doing what you’re doing. but if you want to breathe a little? yeah. it’s worth it.”

harry didn’t jump in right away.

it took a few weeks of thinking, weighing the risks against the reward. but eventually, he made the trip to the bronx. the guy jeff pointed him to was older, late thirties maybe, with a clean apartment and a habit of over-explaining. harry liked him immediately.

the product was good. better than he expected. shrooms, lsd tabs, packaged clean and easy to move. the kind of stuff that sold itself to the right crowd.

molly came later.

it started with frat guys asking for it at parties, offering triple what harry charged for weed. at first, he turned them down. molly was different—harder to control, riskier. but the money kept knocking at his door, and harry, tired of scraping by, finally let it in.

his guy in the bronx knew a supplier. harry kept it lowkey—low doses, clean product, no bullshit. but it still weighed on him, the way every step deeper into this life felt like standing on thin ice.

jeff always said this kind of hustle didn’t last forever. harry just hoped he’d find a way out before it swallowed him whole.

his voice stayed in his head more than he liked to admit—you can’t do this forever, kid. something’s gotta give.

but that was the problem, wasn’t it? harry didn’t know what would give first—his luck, his sanity, or the thin line he kept walking between survival and collapse.

the deeper he got into dealing, the more he saw how easy it was for people to lose themselves in it. not just the buyers—people like jeff, too.

there was this one night, months after harry started moving psychedelics. jeff had called him over, saying he had some fresh product he wanted harry to try. he drove out to brooklyn, expecting the usual.

but when he got there, he looked different. tired in a way that felt heavier.

“you good?” he had asked, leaning against the workbench.

he nodded, but his hands trembled slightly as he sealed a bag. “yeah, just a long week. car broke down, furnace is acting up… you know how it is.”

he did. too well.

when he left that night, the bag of weed tucked into his backpack, he couldn’t shake the thought—this doesn’t end well. jeff had everything harry thought he wanted—a family, a house, a life that looked solid from the outside. and still, it wasn’t enough.

he lit a cigarette as he drove back to the city, the smoke curling around him in the dark car. he couldn’t let this life be all there was. couldn’t let it pull him down the same way it was pulling jeff.

but even as he told himself he’d find a way out, harry’s phone buzzed with another text, another buyer, another deal.

just enough was never enough.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. he was tired. bone-tired. the kind of tired that lived in his spine and refused to leave, no matter how much sleep he got.

but he typed back anyway.

because this was life. grinding himself into the ground so someone else could forget their bullshit for a night.

and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t afford to.

*

the rain wasn’t letting up. the kind that soaked you through in seconds, cold and sharp like a thousand tiny needles stabbing your skin. the stairwell in the building was already a deathtrap on the best days—cheap tiles, no traction, old wood.

he was on the couch when he heard it. a thud, heavy and hollow, like someone had dropped a bag of bricks—or fallen. then the curses followed, muffled but furious, the kind of sound that pulled him out of the half-sleep he’d been drifting into.

he sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. for a second, he thought about ignoring it. again, wasn’t his problem. but something about the sound got under his skin.

grabbing the sweatshirt hanging off the back of the couch, he pulled it on and opened the door, peering out into the dimly lit hallway.

that’s when he saw her.

sprawled on the stairs, her sweater soaked through, hair sticking to her face, and an armful of books scattered around her like shrapnel.

fucking christ, harry thought, leaning against the doorframe. he crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you always this graceful, or is it a wednesday night special?”

she looked up, and if looks could kill, he’d have been dead on the spot. her cheeks were flushed, probably from a mix of frustration and exertion, and her jaw was clenched tight enough to crack. “are you always this much of an asshole, or do i just bring it out in you?”

harry let the smirk grow into something closer to a grin. “you okay?” he asked, his tone half-mocking, half-genuine.

YN didn’t answer right away. she was too busy untangling herself, her knee hitting the step as she tried to gather the mess of books and papers that had spilled everywhere.

harry sighed, pushing off the doorframe. “hold on.”

he jogged down the stairs, crouching to pick up a book near her feet. the cover was soaked, the pages already curling at the edges. he flipped it over in his hand, inspecting the damage. “you’re gonna fail with this,” he said, holding it up. “this thing’s toast.”

she snatched the book from him, glaring. “you’re toast.”

he chuckled under his breath, bending to pick up another one. this time, it was a notebook—thick, overstuffed, with half the pages threatening to fall out. “what are you even carrying all this for?”

“this is college, is it not?”

harry straightened, stacking the notebook on top of the book in her arms. “you’re gonna wreck your back lugging all this around.”

“not everyone has money for a decent bag.” she muttered, not looking at him as she grabbed the papers from his hand.

that made him pause. his jaw tightened, his usual sarcasm flickering into something harder, heavier. he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it just as fast.

he shifted, handing her the last book. “here. try not to break your neck next time.”

she snorted, a bitter laugh slipping out before she could stop it. she pushed herself up, wincing as she shifted her weight onto her right leg.

“you sure you’re okay?” harry asked again, watching the way she was favoring her left leg.

“i’m fine.”

“right.” harry muttered, crossing his arms as she started up the stairs. he followed her halfway up, more out of habit than concern, and watched as she struggled to balance her books against the wet fabric of her sweater.

when they reached the landing, she stopped, glancing back at him. “thanks,” she said, the word sounding like it physically hurt her to say.

harry shrugged. “don’t mention it.”

as she turned to head toward her apartment, she added over her shoulder, “no, seriously. don’t.”

he smirked again, shaking his head as he watched her limp away. he didn’t respond, just leaned against the wall, waiting until she disappeared into her unit before heading back to his own.

he dropped onto the couch, dragging a worn notebook off the coffee table and flipping it open. but his focus was shot. all he could picture was her on the stairs—soaked, pissed, and too stubborn to admit she wasn’t fine.

her comment stuck with him, too. not everyone has money for a decent bag. harry hated how much that hit home.

the world didn’t give a shit if you couldn’t afford what you needed. if you didn’t have it, you improvised. it was why he was out here selling weed and molly to spoiled frat boys and girls with trust funds so deep they could drown in them.

he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. his phone buzzed on the armrest beside him, breaking the silence.

it was one of his regulars, some sophomore who thought a couple grams of shrooms would make her weekend transformative.

yeah. same spot. 9pm.

he tossed the phone onto the table, leaning back against the couch, the springs groaning under his weight. this was the life: fixing busted radiators, chasing down half-earned engineering credits, and grinding himself into the ground so some kid could take a trip they’d forget by monday morning.

later that night, he was back out, a ballcap sat over his curls, backpack slung over his shoulder, heading to the usual corner just off washington square park. it wasn’t raining anymore, but the streets were still slick, reflecting the city lights like oil spills.

he spotted the girl waiting for him, leaning against a lamppost with her arms crossed. she waved when she saw him, a little too eager.

the exchange was quick, the shrooms passing from his hand to hers, the cash tucked into his pocket in one smooth motion. no small talk, no lingering.

when he got home, the hallway was quiet, except for the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead. YN’s door was closed, no sounds coming from the other side.

he paused for a second, staring at it. he shook his head, unlocking his door and stepping inside. the idea that popped into his brain was stupid, irrational. he didn’t owe her anything. she was just the girl down the hall, who gave as much shit as she took.

but still, he dug into his closet, pulling out the old army surplus bag he’d stopped using after high school. it wasn’t much, but it was better than what she had now.

the next morning, harry slipped out of his apartment early, the bag in hand. he dropped it just outside her door, no note, no explanation, before heading out to his first lecture of the day.

when YN found it later, she stared at it for a long moment, her brows knitting together. she didn’t have to ask who left it. and even though she muttered asshole under her breath, she brought it inside with a faint smile.

because she needed it. and harry—whether he’d admit it or not—knew that.

the next time they saw each other, he was coming up the stairs, his backpack slung low, the smell of rain clinging to his sweatshirt. it was late—nearly eleven—and he was tired, the kind of exhaustion that sank into his chest and refused to let go.

YN was coming down, her new bag bouncing lightly against her hip. she was in scrubs and a college hoodie, hair tied back, but there was a tension in her face that hadn’t been there before. maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was the unmistakable look of someone dragging themselves through another brutal shift.

they almost passed each other without a word. almost.

but as they crossed paths, she stopped, her hand gripping the railing. “hey.”

harry stopped mid-step, turning to look at her. “hey,” he echoed, noncommittal.

she tilted her head toward the bag. “this you?”

he leaned against the railing, shrugging like it was no big deal. “needed something better, right?”

her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with her. finally, she shook her head, letting out a dry laugh. “why, though? why do you care?”

he blinked, caught off guard. he didn’t have an answer for that—at least not one he could say out loud. instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging again. “call it charity,” he said. “or don’t. i don’t really care.”

YN stared at him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. then she nodded, her grip on the railing loosening. “thanks,” she muttered, her tone softer this time.

“don’t mention it.”

but before he could take another step, she smiled—the tiniest twitch upward. “no, seriously. don’t.”

he smirked at that, glancing back over his shoulder. “you’re welcome, cinnamon.”

her brows shot up at the nickname, her mouth opening to protest, but harry didn’t stick around to hear it. he was already heading back to his apartment, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

that should’ve been the end of it.

but the next day, when harry opened his door to grab the mail, there was a coffee cup sitting just outside, still warm, with no note or explanation.

he frowned, picking it up and staring at it like it might explode.

then, from down the hall, YN’s door opened, and she leaned out, raising an eyebrow at him. “drink it or don’t—i don’t care.”

he held up the cup, smirking. “what’s this? donations?”

“no,” she grinned, already retreating back inside. “just paying it forward, asshole.”

the door clicked shut, and he stood there, shaking his head, the faintest chuckle escaping him as he sipped the coffee.

*

their classes in south hall were evening ones, usually letting out at nine pm sharp.

YN stepped out of the biology lab first, tugging her sleeves down against the chill that crept into the building after dark. her bag was slung over her shoulders, the college crewneck rumpled from hours of sitting in the same chair. her jeans were stiff from the cold, her shoes scuffed with wear, and her hair fell loose around her face, sticking slightly to her cheek. she brushed it back absently, her eyes on the door ahead.

harry caught sight of her from the second-floor stairwell as he left his chemistry lecture—a rolling stones hoodie hung loose on his frame, sweatpants sitting low on his hips, his green sambas (that he bought second hand, his proudest find) practically falling apart at the seams.

he hadn’t planned on saying anything. hell, he wasn’t even sure she’d noticed him. but as he watched her push through the doors, her breath fogging in the cold, he felt something tug at him.

he hesitated for half a second before jogging down the stairs, his curls bouncing slightly as he caught up to her “hey.”

she glanced over her shoulder, her steps slowing just enough to register him. her brows furrowed when she saw him. “you’re in chemistry,” she said, like it was an accusation.

harry blinked, a bit confused as to what she was hinting at—but going with it anyway. “m’yeah. good observation, sherlock.”

“no, i mean,” she gestured vaguely behind her. “your class is upstairs. what’re you doing down here?”

harry shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching. “walking home. duh. our lectures must end at the same time.”

YN gave him a skeptical look, her pace picking up again as they stepped into the night. “you don’t have to do that,” she said quickly, her tone dismissive. “i’m fine.”

he fell into step beside her anyway, the straps of his backpack swinging slightly as he walked. “cool. didn’t ask.”

her jaw tightened, and she shot him a look. “seriously, i don’t need a babysitter.”

“good,” harry muttered, unbothered. “’cause I’m not volunteering.”

she sighed, tugging her bag closer to her body as they trudged through campus. the sound of their shoes against the pavement filled the space between them.

as they turned the corner, the streetlight flickered above, casting long, uneven shadows across the sidewalk. harry noticed the guy first.

it wasn’t unusual to be sketched out by randoms over here, their apartment was on the edge of campus—lots of stragglers where university police didn’t quite patrol.

he was leaning against a stop sign, his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. his gaze was lazy, his posture too casual, the way people got when they wanted you to feel like they were watching you without actually looking.

harry stepped closer to YN without thinking, his shoulder brushing hers as he moved between her and the road.

“seriously?” she muttered, stopping mid-step to glare at him.

harry didn’t look at her, his eyes locked forward as they passed. “what?” he asked, voice calm. “said i’d walk with you. didn’t say i wouldn’t get in the way.”

she scoffed, but she didn’t pull away. he brushed it off, and in a way, she appreciated that—the way he acknowledged her nerves but didn’t say anything. the way he acted like it was just a miss-step rather than a reassurance.

when they reached the entrance of their apartment building, YN stopped, finally turning to face him. her arms were crossed now, her expression sharp. “you didn’t have to do that.”

“you’re welcome.” his eyebrows knit together in stifled laughter, looking straight past her as he opened the heavy door to their building, holding it open for her to walk through.

they went up the narrow stairwell quietly, each step creaking under their weight.

she pursed her lips, stepping past him to unlock her door. but just before she disappeared inside, she glanced back at him, her tone softer this time. “thanks, i guess.”

harry tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “don’t mention it.”

the door clicked shut behind her, and harry lingered for a second, staring at the empty hallway beyond. then he shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, turned, and headed to his own door. his rings clicked against his keys as he unlocked it, the faintest smirk still on his lips.

*

the walk back from the hospital felt longer tonight.

the clock had just ticked past ten, but the streets were alive with people heading to bars, parties, anywhere but where she’d been. YN tugged on the sleeves of her hoodie, pulling them down farther, the fabric worn soft from too many washes. her scrub pants swished faintly as she walked, her badge clipped to her pocket, catching the glow of passing headlights.

her shift had been hell. the kind of night where you didn’t have time to think, let alone breathe. a kid came in after a bad bike crash, his face pale, his leg bent in a way it shouldn’t have been. then there was guy that coughed up blood over her sneakers—not to mention running around the er the entire rest of shift to do the work the nurses couldn’t get to.

her feet dragged as she pushed through the door to her building, climbing the stairs to the second floor one step at a time.

the music hit her first.

it wasn’t loud, just a faint rhythm seeping through the crack of harry’s door. something easy, mellow.

as she walked past his door, her steps slowed, her gaze flicking toward it. for a second, she lingered, her pulse ticking faster than it should’ve. but then she kept walking.

she tried to focus on her own door, just a few steps away, but her mind wouldn’t settle. work had been brutal. her roommate would be on a two hour facetime with her boyfriend, giggling about nothing. her friends were either pulling late shifts or at some frat house, three beers deep by now. and the quiet—god, the quiet—was going to eat her alive.

before she even realized what she was doing, she spun on her heel, walking back the way she came. her hand hesitated over harry’s door, her fingers curling into a loose fist before she knocked.

the door swung open after a moment, and there he was.

he stood there in loose jeans and an old band tee, his curls falling into his face like he hadn’t bothered to push them back. the rings on his fingers glinted faintly in the dim light behind him, chipped black polish catching her eye.

“cinnamon,” he grinned, leaning one arm against the doorframe. his voice was low, amused. “what’s up?”

behind him, she saw the room wasn’t empty.

lounging on harry’s couch was louis, a guy she vaguely recognized from her english lecture—he was always late, always cracking jokes that somehow landed. and in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter, was a tall guy she didn’t quite recognize.

she took the smallest step back, shaking her head. “sorry,” she mumbled quickly. “didn’t realize you had people over. never-mind.”

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from her to the empty hallway behind her. “y’sure? you look…” he trailed off, his lips quirking slightly. “rough.”

she glared at him. “thanks. really needed that.”

he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “you’re knocking on my door at ten o’clock, cinnamon. that’s gotta be for a reason, yeah?”

she hesitated, her fingers twitching at her side. the guy in the kitchen glanced over briefly, then went back to whatever he was doing, and louis didn’t seem to notice her at all. “forget it,” she muttered, stepping back again. “i’m fine.”

he didn’t move, his eyes narrowed as they locked onto hers. “bullshit.”

her jaw tightened, her shoulders straightening. “i was just gonna ask if you had anything. you know, to…” she gestured vaguely, avoiding his eyes. “take the edge off.”

his smile returned, slow and knowing. “didn’t peg you as the type.”

YN glared again, her cheeks flushing slightly. “for a dealer, you’re really bad at pushing sales.” she said flatly, spinning on her heel.

he chuckled lightly, stepping out into the hallway a bit. “hold on a sec.”

she paused, turning halfway back to face him.

he glanced over his shoulder, toward the couch and the kitchen, before meeting her eyes again. “come back in ten,” he nodded. “i’ll get rid of ‘em.”

she blinked, caught off guard. “you don’t have to—”

“i said ten.” he cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

before she could say anything else, he stepped back into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. YN stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door like it might open again. she bit the inside of her lip, fidgeting with her key and going inside.

and at exactly 10 minutes, she was back in front of harry’s door.

this time, she didn’t hesitate. she knocked twice, easier than before.

the door opened almost immediately.

harry stood there again, his curls pushed back out of his face this time. his expression was unreadable, somewhere between curiosity and amusement. “told you ten minutes.” he stepped back, leaving the door open for her. “c’mon.”

his apartment wasn’t what she expected, though she wasn’t sure what she’d pictured. it was small, dimly lit by a single desk lamp in the corner. the faint scent of weed hung in the air, but the room was surprisingly neat, except for a pile of papers and notebooks on the table.

lounging on the couch, louis was pulling on his jacket, his face lighting up in surprise when he saw her. “oh, hey. you’re…” he snapped his fingers, squinting. “chem lab, right? morning lecture?”

YN nodded stiffly, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie. “english,” she corrected. “i see you there sometimes.”

“right, right,” louis said, grinning. he turned to harry. “new buyer? good taste, man.”

harry rolled his eyes, stifling his own smile. “out.” he muttered, shoving a hand toward the door.

louis smirked but didn’t argue. he grabbed his bag, tossing a wink at YN before stepping into the hallway. the guy in the kitchen followed, slipping past her without so much as a glance, the scent of cheap cologne trailing behind him.

he shut the door with a sharp click, locking it before turning to face her. “there. happy?”

she crossed her arms, leaning against the wall near the door. “i didn’t ask you to kick them out.”

“you didn’t have to.”

she sighed, her gaze shifting to the desk in the corner. the blueprints stacked there caught her attention—clean lines, precise calculations, a world that felt miles away from hers.

“you gonna tell me what you want, or are we just standing here all night?”

her eyes snapped back to his, the sharpness in his tone cutting through the haze of her thoughts. “got anything that’ll knock me out for a few hours?”

he raised an eyebrow, walking past her to the desk. he opened a drawer, rummaging around before pulling out a small baggie with a single edible inside. “low-dose,” he said, holding it up. “won’t knock you out, but it’ll take the edge off.”

YN hesitated, glancing between him and the baggie. “how much?”

harry shook his head, tossing it onto the counter. “on the house.”

“i’m not—”

“just take it,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “call it a favor. or a bribe. whatever makes you feel better.”

she stepped closer, picking up the baggie with careful fingers. her eyes flicked to his, searching for something she wasn’t sure she’d find. “thanks.” she muttered, her voice quieter now.

harry leaned against the edge of the counter, his arms crossed. “you look like shit, by the way.”

she huffed, shoving the baggie into her hoodie pocket. “and you’re still a dick.” she shot back, heading for the door.

“fair enough.” he muttered. but just as she reached for the handle, his voice stopped her. “hey, cinnamon.”

she turned, her brow furrowed. “what?”

harry’s smirk softened slightly, the easy confidence in his tone faltering just enough to feel real. “you ever wanna talk, you know where i live.”

YN didn’t respond, didn’t trust herself to. she just nodded once and slipped out the door, her footsteps fading down the hall.

the next day, it was closer to four pm when YN got home from work.

she barely noticed the faint buzz of her roommate’s call as she slipped into the bathroom, peeling off her scrubs and stepping under the hot spray of the shower. the water hit her like a reset button, the ache in her shoulders easing as the steam curled around her.

when she finally emerged, her hair damp and loose, she threw on a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized sweater—something warm, something safe. the apartment was quiet now, her roommate having left a while ago, probably off to see her boyfriend.

it was around six when the knock came.

YN glanced up from her laptop, her brows furrowing. she wasn’t expecting anyone. she hesitated for a second, debating if she even wanted to answer, but curiosity won out.

when she opened the door, harry was leaning against the frame, his usual smirk softened into something more uncertain. he looked like he’d been pacing before this, his curls slightly disheveled, his hoodie hanging loose over a pair of black sweatpants.

“hey.”

YN raised an eyebrow. “hey.”

“you any good at chem?”

she blinked, “chemistry?”

he nodded, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “yeah. like, the basics. stoichiometry, balancing equations, all that shit.”

she tilted her head, leaning against the doorframe to mirror him. “i passed it with like an 85% so, i guess?”

he smiled, “fantastic. y’busy right now?”

“why?”

“thought maybe you could help me out. i’ve got a test coming up, and i’m…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely. “not great at it.”

“you want me to tutor you?”

he beamed, sarcastic, knowing. “sweet of you t’offer. let’s go.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. she sighed, pushing off the doorframe. “fine. but if i’m doing this, we’re going to the library. your apartment smells like weed, and i can’t think in there.”

he chuckled, stepping back as she grabbed her bag from the couch. “fair enough, cinnamon.”

the campus library wasn’t crowded, the usual sunday night stragglers scattered across the tables in hushed clusters. harry led her to a table in the back, far from the main entrance, where the buzz of conversation faded into the quiet hum of fluorescent lights.

he dropped his backpack onto the table, pulling out a battered notebook and a copy of the textbook that looked like it had been through hell. “alright, professor,” he said, smirking as he slid into the chair across from her. “teach me.”

“this is gonna be painful, isn’t it?”

harry grinned, flipping open the textbook. “probably.”

she sighed, leaning forward. “okay, first question—how the hell did you even make it to college if you don’t know the basics?”

harry shrugged, unbothered. “charm and good looks.”

she groaned, dropping her pen onto the table. “you’re gonna fail.”

“no,” he drawled with a smile, “that’s why you’re here.”

despite herself, YN smiled, shaking her head as she reached for the textbook. “alright, let’s see what we can do.”

the first twenty minutes were pure pain.

she flipped through harry’s beat-up textbook, squinting at the faint pencil notes scrawled in the margins. “alright,” she muttered, tapping her pen against the page. “let’s start with balancing equations. that’s pretty straightforward.”

harry slouched in his chair, spinning his pen between his fingers like he was bored out of his mind already. (and he was. if he was honest, he didn’t need help with chem at all). “straightforward for you, maybe. i’m just here trying not to flunk out.”

she furrowed her eyebrows, shooting him a look. “you’re not gonna flunk out. you just need to—” she hesitated, searching for the right word. “try.”

“i’m trying right now. see? look at all this effort.” he gestured toward the open book in front of him.

she sighed, leaning across the table and grabbing the pen out of his hand. “no. this is you sitting there, being useless. pay attention, harry.”

“yes, ma’am.” he mumbled, sitting up slightly straighter. his voice carried the faintest edge of mockery, but he kept his eyes on her, watching as she wrote out a problem on a fresh sheet of paper.

after another ten minutes of stumbling through coefficients, YN thought she saw a flicker of understanding cross harry’s face. he pointed at the page. “so you just make the numbers match? like, both sides need the same amount of atoms?”

YN stared at him, deadpan. “yes. that’s literally it.”

he leaned back, running a hand through his curls. “jesus. why the hell does it sound so much harder in class?”

“because you don’t listen in class,” she laughed, “and i’m guessing you don’t read the textbook either.”

he grinned, leaning forward again. “why would i, when you’re clearly better at explaining it?”

she rolled her eyes, turning the page in the book. “charm and good looks only get you so far, harry. you’re gonna have to put some actual work into this.”

“oh, so you do think i’m charming.”

YN didn’t dignify that with a response. instead, she handed him the pen and pointed to the next problem. “solve it. no shortcuts, no guesses. i wanna see the work.”

he groaned but did as he was told, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on the page.

by the time the clock struck eight thirty, they’d managed to get through most of the chapter. YN had to admit—he wasn’t completely hopeless.

and all he could do was smile—she bought it. if engineering didn’t work out, he thought, maybe he could be an actor. or a pathological liar.

“see?” she said, leaning back in her chair. “you’re not terrible at this. just lazy.”

harry huffed a laugh, closing the textbook with a loud thud. “lazy? you wound me, cinnamon.”

“you’ll live. anyway, i think we’re done for tonight. unless you wanna keep going?”

they walked out of the library together, the crisp night air hitting them like a wall. the campus was quiet now, most of the students holed up in their dorms or off at whatever weekend plans they’d made.

as they reached the edge of the quad, he glanced at her. “thanks for helping me out.”

she shrugged, her hands tucked into her hoodie pocket. “no big deal. just don’t make it a habit.”

“what if i do?”

YN shot him a look, her brow furrowing slightly. “then you’re buying the coffee next time.”

harry chuckled, the sound low and warm in the cold air. “deal.”

they reached the entrance, and YN hesitated for a moment before heading inside. “night, harry.”

“night, cinnamon.”

as the door clicked shut behind her, harry lingered on the steps for a moment, lighting a cigarette.

he smiled to himself again, he couldn’t help it. he was proficient in math, one of his best subjects—bordering the edge of genius, basically. but she didn’t need to know that, not when he just stole a couple hours from her, not when it was the perfect excuse just to hang out with her.

it was wednesday when she next saw him.

the clock on YN’s laptop read 11:03 pm, the harsh blue light illuminating her tired eyes as she highlighted yet another passage in the dense textbook sprawled across her lap. the apartment was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle from her roommate’s room and the faint hum of traffic filtering in through the drafty window.

she hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch in over an hour, legs curled under her, a growing pile of sticky notes cluttering the coffee table. her focus was razor-sharp, though her back ached from the awkward position she’d settled into.

when the knock came, she didn’t flinch. didn’t even glance toward the door. she knew exactly who it was.

with a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she set her laptop down carefully, nudging it closer to the stack of notes as she rose from the couch. her socked feet padded softly across the floor, her hand instinctively reaching for the lock. she swung the door open and leaned against the frame, her shoulder pressed into the wood as she tilted her head to the side.

“cinnamonnnn,” harry drawled, his voice almost melodic, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it had been hers all her life.

he stood there in a slightly oversized sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pair of gray sweatpants that were smaller than the ones from the other day—joggers maybe. a green packers beanie was snug over his curls, though a few stray strands peeked out, curling against his forehead. his hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels like he had all the time in the world.

YN narrowed her eyes slightly, the faintest smile ghosting her lips. “harryyyy,” she mimicked, dragging out his name in the same exaggerated tone.

“you busy?”

yes. “no.”

his dimples deepened as his grin grew wider, like he knew she’d lie. “hang out with me for a bit then.”

she let out a quiet laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. “to do what? it’s almost midnight.”

“come walk with me.”

her lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping as she gave him a hesitant look. he didn’t push, just waited, the silence between them comfortable, expectant. “you’re such a bad influence,” she muttered, shaking her head as she turned back into the apartment.

“oh, yeah,” harry said, stepping forward to catch the door before it closed. “terrible.”

she tugged a sweater over her head, the fabric swallowing her as she slipped her feet into an old pair of sneakers. they were loose, the kind she could slip on without bothering with laces.

when she stepped past him, harry held the door open before letting it fall shut behind them as they ambled into the narrow hallway.

“where are we going?” YN asked as they descended the stairs, the cool air of the building’s lobby settling around them.

“you’ll see.”

she huffed, though the corners of her mouth tugged upward as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. he moved like the world waited for him, unhurried but purposeful, his long legs carrying him down the steps in easy strides.

when they pushed through the front door and into the night, the cold air hit her immediately, making her shiver as she stuffed her hands into her pockets.

their path wound deeper into campus—the air quiet, save for the rustling of dead leaves underfoot and the occasional distant honk of a car. the faint glow of streetlights filtered through the thinning trees, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement.

harry walked slightly ahead, shoulders hunched against the cool air. she walked beside him, somewhat, perhaps a step behind, though the edge of her elbow would brush against his arm every so often. it wasn’t an accident, not really.

their breaths puffed out in white clouds, swirling in the breeze before disappearing. the last of the dead leaves fell from the trees with a soft crackle, catching in the wind before tumbling to the ground.

his pace slowed slightly, letting her match him, and he nudged her with his shoulder—just enough to jostle her. she looked up, her brow furrowing as she glanced at him.

“what was that for?”

he smirked, his gaze flicking ahead. “thought you were fallin’ asleep over there.”

she rolled her eyes but let her shoulder bump into his lightly as they walked. “sure. ‘cause nothing screams excitement like following you into the middle of nowhere.”

he let out a low chuckle, his breath visible in the cold air. “you’re dramatic, you know that?”

“you didn’t answer the question earlier.”

“what question?”

“about where we’re going,” she said, her voice teasing. “you could be leading me astray so you can murder me without any witnesses.”

he turned his head to look at her, his brows lifting, “i did answer, you just didn’t accept it.” he paused, pursing his lips as if he was in thought. “it would be a good plan, though. quiet enough out here. no one’d hear a thing.”

she snorted, her steps faltering slightly as she tried not to laugh. “you’re a terrible murderer. you’d leave a trail of evidence a mile wide.”

“would not.”

“would too.”

he turned to her fully now, his eyes narrowing as he stepped backward in front of her. his hands were still stuffed in his pockets, his pace matching hers even as he walked in reverse.

“alright, then,” he said, his voice laced with mock seriousness. “if i were to murder you—and that’s a big if, by the way—how exactly would i screw it up?”

she bit back a smile, “well, for starters, you’d forget to hide the body properly. probably just leave me in the middle of the path, thinking no one would notice.”

he let out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking as he shook his head. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it?” YN countered, raising a brow. “you’re the one who thinks this is a good place to kill someone.”

his grin widened, the faintest dimple appearing in his cheek. “you’re paranoid, cinnamon. that’s your problem.”

“and you’re too cocky. that’s yours.”

they fell into a rhythm again, walking side by side as the breeze picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of city streets and damp leaves. their arms brushed again, neither of them pulling away, the warmth of the contact lingering longer than it should.

harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, the smirk on his lips softening slightly. “for the record,” he said, his voice quieter now, “i know exactly where i’m going.”

she smiled, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “good,” she said lightly. “cause i’d hate to have to come back and haunt you if you got me lost.”

their steps grew softer as the buildings behind them thinned out, replaced by clusters of trees swaying in the light breeze. the path curved slightly, the faint hum of traffic fading into the distance.

he walked slightly ahead, his head turning now and then to glance at the towering oaks that lined their path. the trees began to part, revealing the outline of icahn stadium in the near distance. the track and field stretched wide beneath the faint glow of a single overhead light, casting long shadows across the ground. the bleachers stood tall and imposing, their sea of blue seats reaching into the sky like a wave frozen in time.

harry slowed to a stop as they approached, the chain-link fence surrounding the stadium standing between them and the field. he didn’t guide her toward the gate, knowing it would be locked after hours. instead, he stepped closer to the fence, pulling his hand out of his pocket and giving one of the links an experimental tug.

she watched him, her brow furrowing slightly. “if you think we’re going on a run,” she said, her voice flat, “you’ve completely lost it.”

he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as his fingers curled around the chain link. he glanced at her over his shoulder, “shut up and c’mere, cinnamon.”

YN hesitated for half a second, then stepped forward, the grass folding beneath her sneakers. the light breeze brushed against her skin, carrying the faint scent of earth and damp metal. he stepped back slightly, giving her room as she reached for the fence. without waiting for further instruction, she started to climb, her hands gripping the cold metal tightly as she hauled herself upward.

he watched her movements closely, his hands hovering near her hips in case she wobbled. “i got you,” he muttered, his voice soft enough to blend with the wind.

she didn’t respond, focusing instead on the rhythmic pull of her arms as she reached the top of the fence. for a moment, she perched there, the view of the stadium stretching out before her, before swinging one leg over and carefully lowering herself to the other side.

harry gave the fence one last tug, then started climbing after her. his movements were quick and efficient, as though he’d done this a hundred times before. his sleeve bunched at his elbows as he reached the top, pausing briefly to glance down at her. “how’s the weather down there?”

she glanced up, brushing her hands off on her pants. “you’d better not fall. i’m not catching you.”

he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he swung over the top and landed easily on the grass beside her. “wasn’t planning on it,” he breathed, brushing his hands off before shoving them back into his pockets.

they stood there for a moment, the quiet of the field settling around them like a blanket. the overhead light flickered slightly, casting their shadows long and thin against the ground.

she stared at him for a moment, then sighed, shaking her head as she followed him. “you’ve got way too much energy for this late at night.”

“and you were too stubborn t’say no.” harry shot back as he walked ahead, his steps light against the rubber surface. “used to hate running, y’know,” he breathed, glancing at YN as he spun around. he walked backward with an ease that made her slightly nervous, like he’d trip over himself any second but never actually would. “hated everything about it—your legs aching, your chest burnin’, that horrible feeling in your throat after.”

she caught up, her pace steady as she smiled faintly, her breath visible in the cool air. “now it’s your thing.”

he paused for a split second, his eyes catching hers in that unreadable way of his. then, to her surprise, he smiled. “yeah,” he nodded slightly. “now it’s my thing.”

the bleachers loomed ahead, their steel frame groaning faintly in the wind. harry reached them first, stepping aside to let her go up. “go on,” he muttered, gesturing upward with a nod. “all the way to the top.”

“what, you’re not going to race me?”

he smiled, his hand brushing against the cold metal railing. “wouldn’t be fair. your legs are shorter than mine.”

she narrowed her eyes but couldn’t help the faint laugh that slipped out. “wow. okay. guess i’ll just take my time then.”

she started up the concrete steps, her hands gripping the railings on either side. the cold bit at her palms, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of her feet against the uneven surface.

harry followed a few steps behind, his stride naturally longer than hers. “this is painful t’watch,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “are you always this slow, or is it just for me?”

YN stopped abruptly, her hands tightening around the railings as she shifted her weight. her hips jutted out slightly, throwing him off balance as he climbed.

he cursed under his breath, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady himself. his fingers found her hips, his grip firm but fleeting, as though he realized too late what he’d done. “jesus,” he muttered, pulling back as quickly as he’d touched her. “bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

she turned her head just enough to catch the faint flush creeping up his neck. she smirked, leaning her weight into the railing. “sorry—shorter legs and all.”

harry just blinked before the corner of his mouth twitched. he stepped back, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “you’re a child.”

she laughed softly, turning back to the stairs and continuing her climb. “yeah,” she called over her shoulder, her voice teasing. “but you’re still following me.”

they climbed higher, the steps echoing faintly beneath their feet, but harry's pace started to falter again—restlessness bleeding into his movements. "oh, for god's sake," he laughed, his patience snapping like a brittle thread. his fingers drummed against the railing briefly before he stopped altogether, grasping onto her wrist.

his grin was lopsided, dimples flashing as he let go of her hand and flung himself past her, his long legs taking the steps two at a time as he rushed toward the top. only a second and a half later, she met him up there, finding him standing there with a proud grin, his hands resting on his hips like he'd just conquered something monumental.

“impatience isn’t a virtue, by the way.”

he kept his smile, his dimples cutting deep as he lifted his hand in front of her face, palm out. his fingers wiggled dramatically, “talk to the hand, sista."

she paused, staring at him like she wasn't sure whether to laugh or push him off the railing. her expression cracked first, laughter spilling out before she could stop it. she swatted his hand away from her face as they leaned into each other, his own giggles breaking free in a low, rumbling sound that shook through him.

their laughter folded into each other, her shoulder pressing lightly into his chest as she tried to steady herself, his larger frame giving way slightly under the weight of their shared amusement.

harry’s laughter softened as he reached up, his fingers tugging at the edge of his packers beanie. his curls bounced free as he pulled it off, the cold air nipping at his now-exposed hair. without a word, he stretched his arm around her, carefully plopping the hat onto her head.

“what are you doing?” she asked, her voice laced with with something delicate as she adjusted it, the oversized beanie swallowing her hair and tilting slightly to one side.

“you looked cold,” he said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. his fingers lingered at the edge of the beanie for just a second before he gave her forehead a gentle push with the flat of his palm.

it wasn’t hard—just enough to tip her head backward a little, like an afterthought, his grin barely contained as she blinked up at him.

“seriously?” YN smiled, tilting her head forward again, a faint laugh escaping as she fixed the hat and gave him a mock glare.

he didn’t reply, already stepping to his left with an exaggerated flourish, gesturing toward the narrow row of faded blue seats that stretched across the top of the bleachers. “c’mon.”

he slid into one of the seats first, his long legs folding awkwardly into the tight space as he leaned back and let out a contented sigh. he patted the seat beside him without looking at her.

she hesitated for a beat, brushing her hair out of her face before following him into the row. the cold metal of the seat pressed through her sweats as she sat down beside him, her knees brushing against his for just a second as she settled.

she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. harry’s beanie slipped forward slightly, brushing against her eyebrows, but she didn’t bother adjusting it. instead, she rested her chin on her knees, her gaze drifting across the empty field below as the wind whistled faintly through the bleachers.

he shifted beside her, digging into the pocket of his sweats. his movements were easy as he pulled out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lime green lighter. sliding a cigarette between his lips, he leaned back, flicking the lighter once, twice

nothing.

his fingers were stiff from the cold, the wind catching the flame before it had a chance to hold. he tried again, his brows furrowing slightly as he muttered something under his breath.

YN turned her head, watching him with quiet curiosity. “you good over there?”

harry’s lips quirked around the cigarette. “just peachy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he tried one more time.

without a word, she reached over, her fingers brushing against his as she took the lighter from him. “hold still,” she murmured, leaning sideways as she cupped her hand over the cigarette perched between his lips, shielding it from the breeze.

her movements were practiced, easy, like she’d done this a hundred times before. she flicked the lighter once, and the small flame sprang to life, steady this time. she lit the end of the cigarette, her hand still shielding it from the wind as she glanced up at him. “there.”

harry took a drag, the ember glowing softly in the dim light, and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. his gaze flicked to her, an unreadable expression crossing his face before his lips tilted into a small, lopsided grin.

she shifted back into her seat and pulled the beanie lower over her ears, her chin finding its place against her knees again. they sat in the quiet for a while, the whispers of the wind weaving around them, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or harry’s exhales.

she looked him over, the way his curls danced around his face, the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette, how the ember’s reflection flickered in his eyes. she bit the inside of her cheek before she muttered softly, almost to herself, “you’re british.”

he let out a breathy chuckle, the sound slipping through his nose as he took another pull from the cigarette. he sighed slowly, the smoke curling up into the cold night air before he turned his head toward her, his smirk faint but amused. “good eye, sherlock.”

she kissed her teeth, rolling her eyes as she prepared to retort, her lips parting—

but harry cut her off before she could. “—cheshire,” he breathed, the word rolling off his tongue in a way that caught her off guard, soft and lilting. “born there, anyway. mum moved me and my sister here when i was thirteen.”

“for a job or..?”

he nodded, the glow of the cigarette tip briefly lighting his features as he took another drag. “she got an offer she couldn’t turn down. packed us up, left everything behind. started over.”

YN tilted her head slightly, watching the way his gaze lingered on the field below, distant but steady. “must’ve been hard.”

he shrugged, “it was… weird. missing home, trying t’fit in here. but she did what she had to do. mum’s always been good at that—doing what has to be done.”

there was a warmth in his voice, a quiet admiration that made her chest tighten. she didn’t push for more, sensing that he’d already said more than he usually would. “your accent is starting to fade,” she said instead, her lips curving into a small smile.

he smiled faintly, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “guess so. comes back strong when i’m drunk, though.”

she laughed softly, shaking her head as she turned her eyes back to the field.

he shifted slightly in his seat, his arm brushing hers as he glanced over, his cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. “what about you?”

she blinked, turning her head toward him. “me?”

“yes, you. where’s home?”

she hesitated for a moment, “about an hour north,” she mumbled, her voice carrying the faintest edge of something wistful. “right on the border between here and connecticut.”

he nodded, leaning back slightly as he tilted his head toward her. “family?”

YN huffed a quiet breath, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “brother’s in the army. mom and dad work all the time. and i’m just here.”

his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes studying her for a moment, thoughtful and quiet. “just here?”

she shrugged, hugging her knees closer to her chest as she rested her chin on them again. “yeah. they’re busy, you know? always have been. it’s not bad or anything, it’s just… how it is.”

harry didn’t respond right away, the glow of his cigarette catching the faint flicker of emotion in his gaze. “you don’t go home much, then.”

“no. they’re fine without me. and i’ve got everything i need here. school, this place… the occasional packers beanie to keep me warm.”

he chuckled gently at that, the sound low and warm as he reached out to tug the edge of the beanie further down over her ears.

YN tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the horizon as she broke the silence with a question that felt heavier than the moment. “ever fall in love?”

he turned to her, his brows furrowing slightly at the unexpectedness of it. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “once or twice.”

she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her lips twitching into a faint, almost knowing smile. “yeah,” she said softly. “me too. once or twice.”

his eyes lingered on her, studying the curve of her profile in the dim light. “what happened?”

“life, i guess. we grew apart, wanted different things.” she paused, her fingers idly tugging at her sleeves. “it wasn’t awful. just… wasn’t meant to be.”

he nodded slowly, his eyes drifting to the field below as he leaned back again, stretching his legs out in front of him.“same here.” he sighed. “things got complicated. fell apart before it could really go anywhere.”

YN turned to face him fully now, her cheek resting on her knees as she studied him. “do you think it’s worth it?”

“what, love?”

she nodded.

he was quiet for a beat, his features softening as he mulled over her question. “yeah,” he said finally, his voice low but certain. “for the right person.”

silence.

“—he treat you right?”

“what?”

he flicked the ash off the tip of his cigarette. “the guy you loved. did he treat you right?”

she hesitated before she nodded, check still flush against her knees. “most of the time.”

his jaw twitched at her answer, “most of the time isn’t enough, y’know?”

“think you could do better?” she teased lightly, though there was an edge of genuine curiosity in her tone.

harry turned to her then, his eyes meeting hers, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smirk. “yeah,” he said simply, taking another drag. “i know i could.”

her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t look away. instead, she lifted her chin off her knees, her lips curving into a small, sly smile. “yeah right, harry.”

“i don’t say shit i don’t mean, cinnamon. not like that.”

YN didn’t respond, just shook her head faintly as she turned her head back to the field, her chest tightening in a way she didn’t quite know how to name.

he stayed quiet too, the silence settling over them again, but this time it felt heavier, charged with something unspoken that neither of them was ready to unpack.

he let the cigarette drop to the concrete, the faint glow of its ember dying as he ground it under his sneaker. the scrape of rubber against stone was sharp in the quiet, and then he straightened, towering over YN as her gaze followed him.

“let’s go,” he mumbled, his voice even but lacking the warmth it held earlier.

something had shifted.

it was subtle—barely a flicker—but she felt it. the easy banter from earlier seemed to pull back, replaced by something quieter, something more guarded.

she didn’t question it, though. not yet.

harry gestured toward the steps, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he waited for her to stand.

she sighed softly, pulling his packers beanie tighter over her ears as she rose, the cold biting at her cheeks while she fell into step beside him as they made their way back down the bleachers.

when they reached the chain-link fence again, harry stepped forward first, gripping the metal links as he tested its sturdiness like he had before. he didn’t say anything, only nodded toward the fence as he stepped aside to let her climb.

YN rolled her eyes but moved toward it anyway, her hands curling around the cold metal as she pulled herself up. harry’s hands hovered near her hips just as they had earlier.

she glanced down briefly to meet his eyes before she swung her leg over the top and climbed down the other side.

he followed quickly, his movements smooth and quick, landing on the grass beside her with barely a sound. they fell into step together on the walk back, the cool night air nipping at exposed skin as the distant hum of traffic filled the silence.

harry’s hands stayed buried in his pockets, his head slightly lowered as his long strides matched her shorter ones.

she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, sensing the subtle shift in his demeanor. he wasn’t closed off, not entirely, but there was a distance now, like he was holding something back. "you okay?" she asked softly, her voice cutting through the silence.

"mm-hm,” he hummed, his tone even, but distant. "you?"

she nodded, even though something about his shift made her chest feel heavier. "yeah."

she didn’t press, didn’t push. instead, she let the silence stretch between them as their footsteps echoed softly against the pavement.

by the time they reached their building, the city felt quieter, the world around them settling into the stillness of the late night.

and though neither of them said a word as they split, the weight of the unspoken things between them lingered, threading itself into the space they shared.

another few days passed, and the walk back to the apartment felt lighter than usual.

YN had just said goodbye to a friend before rounding the corner to the building, her smile lingering as she adjusted the strap of her bag. it wasn’t often she felt this at ease.

but that lightness disappeared the moment she reached the stairwell.

as she climbed to their floor, her eyes landed on harry. he was standing at his door, his shoulders tense, his head down. his key trembled in his hand, the metal scraping against the lock as he missed the slot for what had to be the third time.

it was wrong. harry was steady. always steady. whether he was handing off a bag of weed or walking down the street like the world revolved around him, he had this uncanny knack for keeping his cool.

but not tonight.

she slowed her steps, her brow furrowing as she got closer. “harry?” her voice cut through the stillness, sharper than she intended.

his head snapped up. for a brief moment, she saw something raw in his eyes—panic, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it came. his mouth twisted into a faint smile, the one he always wore like armor. “you’re back early.” his voice was rough, low, like he’d been grinding it against a wall.

she took a step closer, her eyes scanning him. “was about to say the same thing.” her gaze flicked to his hand, the one holding the key, the knuckles split and bruised.

“what happened to your hand?”

he stiffened, tucking the injured hand into his hoodie pocket. “nothing’.”

“bullshit,” she muttered, shoving her keys and phone into her pockets to free her hands. “let me see.”

he let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “don’t worry about it, cinnamon.”

the nickname barely registered; her focus stayed on him, on the tension in his shoulders, the blood crusting his knuckles. “harry,” she said, her tone firmer now. “you’re bleeding. just let me—”

“it’s fine!” he shouted, his voice cutting.

YN snapped her head back up, averting her gaze from his hidden hands, right to his eyes. his chest rose and fell, his breathing shallow and uneven. she didn’t speak, just stood there, watching the way his jaw tightened like he was trying to swallow something bitter.

he finally sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “fuck.”he mumbled, almost to himself.

she moved closer again, slower this time, her voice softer. “let me help.”

his eyes flicked to hers, guarded but not as sharp. his lips parted, like he wanted to argue, but no words came out.

inside her apartment, the air felt too still, too quiet.

harry sat stiffly at her small kitchen table, his hoodie now pushed back to reveal the messy curls tumbling over his forehead. he cradled his injured hand in his lap, his jaw set as YN dug through her cabinet for the first aid kit.

“you really don’t have to do this,” he muttered, his voice low.

“yeah, well,” she sighed, pulling the kit down with a thud. “i’m doing it anyway.”

when she sat across from him, the silence between them grew heavy. she reached for his hand, but he hesitated, his fingers curling slightly.

“harry.”

he huffed but relented, letting her take his hand in hers.

the damage was worse up close. his knuckles were split and swollen, streaks of blood staining the spaces between his fingers. she inhaled sharply, her brows knitting as she reached for the antiseptic.

“jesus,” she muttered, shaking her head. “what the hell did you do?”

he didn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the floor. when he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “ran into someone.”

she paused, the antiseptic-soaked cotton ball hovering over his knuckles. “like?”

“someone who didn’t want to pay up front.”

her stomach twisted. she pressed the cotton to his knuckles, and he hissed through his teeth, his fingers twitching under hers.

“hold still.” she murmured, her voice softer, airy.

he didn’t respond, just watched her work. her touch was careful but firm, her hands steady as she cleaned the cuts.

“you can’t keep doing this.” she said quietly, not looking up.

harry’s lips twitched, a dry laugh escaping him. “you worried about me?”

YN shot him a look, her expression somewhere between annoyance and concern. “maybe, harry. you ever think about that?”

his smile faded, and for a moment, his eyes softened—just a fraction, but enough for her to notice. “it’s nothing.”

“it’s not nothing.’” she countered, wrapping a clean bandage around his hand. “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“maybe.” he whispered, watching her tie off the bandage.

“and you’re okay with that?”

his gaze flicked up to hers, and for a moment, something vulnerable passed between them—something unspoken but heavy. “depends on the day.”

she swallowed hard, her fingers lingering on the edge of the bandage before she leaned back.

“you’re an idiot.” she grumbled, standing to put the kit back in its place.

he grinned faintly, flexing his fingers against the bandage. “yeah, but you’re still patchin’ me up, aren’t you?”

she glanced over her shoulder, her lips pressing into a thin line. “someone has to.”

he stood, his frame filling the small kitchen as he neared the door.

“harry?”

he glanced back, his eyes soft as he looked at her expectantly.

“please be careful.”

his jaw clenched before he managed a tight nod, and then the door clicked shut behind him, leaving YN alone in the silence, the weight of his words—and his presence—lingering in the air.

it was thursday again, and the walk back from their evening lecture became an unspoken agreement.

it wasn’t something they talked about—there were no texts exchanged or plans made. but every tuesday and thursday, as the evening classes let out, they’d meet by the lecture hall’s exit. sometimes harry would already be there, leaning against the wall, pretending he wasn’t waiting. other times, YN would hang back near the doors, scrolling through her phone until she saw him.

tonight was no different.

harry was already outside when she came out of her bio lab, her bag slung over her shoulder and her hair a little messy from tying and retying it during the experiment. he fell into step beside her as they turned toward home, his bandaged hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his backpack slung low over one shoulder.

“that bad?” he asked, glancing at her as she adjusted her strap.

she sighed, shaking her head. “some idiot forgot to label their samples, so the whole lab got an extra hour of let’s go over the basics again.”

harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “you lot are a buncha losers, huh?”

“says the guy who’s probably failing chem,” she shot back, grinning.

he shrugged, unbothered—simply because it wasn’t true. “aggressively coasting.” he corrected.

what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

she rolled her eyes, giggling despite herself. the conversation drifted, easy and familiar, as they made their way through campus.

it was when they turned onto the last block before their building that harry stopped.

she noticed it immediately—the way his body went still, his eyes narrowing as they flicked to the other side of the street.

a man stood there, leaning against a lamppost, his hands shoved into the pockets of a heavy coat. he wasn’t doing anything—not technically—but there was something about the way he stared at the building’s exit that set harry on edge.

“go inside.”

she frowned, looking at him. “what?”

harry’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the man across the street. “just go inside, YN.”

her confusion deepened as she followed his gaze. “harry, what’s going on?”

he turned to her then, his expression sharper than she’d ever seen it. “i said go the fuck inside.” he snapped, his voice low, biting—the words cutting through the cool evening air like glass.

she flinched, her eyes widening slightly. but before she could say anything, harry was already crossing the street, his shoulders squared and his hands shoved into his pockets.

she stayed where she was, her heart racing as she watched the scene unfold.

harry approached the man with a deliberate calm, his posture loose but his movements sharp. she couldn’t hear the first thing he said, but the man straightened immediately, his eyes narrowing as he looked harry up and down.

the conversation wasn’t loud, but it was tense—harry’s voice low, steady, while the man’s tone was sharper, more aggressive.

she could only catch snippets.

the man stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides, and for a moment, YN thought it was going to escalate. but harry didn’t flinch. he held his ground, his voice even as he spoke again.

finally, the man pulled something from his pocket—a small bag, crumpled and poorly sealed—and shoved it into harry’s hand. he gave him a look, muttering something under his breath before turning on his heel.

he crossed the street, his shoulders tense, his face hard as stone. when he reached YN, he brushed past her—his shoulder catching hers, a silent signal that screamed follow me.

she hesitated, but only for a second before trailing after him. he didn’t look back as he pushed through the front door of their building, letting it slam shut behind them.

the silence between them stretched thin as they climbed the stairs, harry taking them two at a time, YN struggling to keep up with his longer stride.

“harry,” she started, her breath slightly uneven, “what the hell just happened?”

he didn’t answer, his hand gripping the stairwell railing tightly enough that his knuckles whitened.

“don’t ignore me,” she pressed, her voice sharper now. “who was that guy? why were you acting like—”

“drop it, YN.” he muttered, his voice sharp and clipped, but she wasn’t having it.

“no, i’m not dropping it!” she snapped, her tone cutting through the empty stairwell. “you don’t get to just walk away from this without explaining. i saw the way you looked at him. you knew him, didn’t you?”

he reached their floor and stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall, his back still to her.

“you knew he was trouble the second you saw him,” she continued, stepping closer. “so tell me why, harry. what’s going on—are you okay?”

he turned then, spinning on his heel so fast that she nearly bumped into him. his eyes were clouded, sharp, and for a moment, the force of his glare made her breath catch. “s’not your fucking concern, YN.” he spat, his voice cold and low, each word biting like frost. “it’s not like we’re friends. so just fucking stop.”

she froze mid-sentence, her jaw slack as the words sank in.

harry’s breathing was uneven, his hands balled into fists at his sides, but he didn’t look away.

she closed her mouth, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes stayed locked on his. after a long pause, she gave a single, curt nod. “got it.”

her voice was quiet but sharp, like the edge of a knife.

she stepped around him, her gaze never wavering as she turned toward her unit. the weight of her presence lingered, heavy and unforgiving, even as she unlocked her door and disappeared inside.

he stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway. his chest felt tight, his fists still clenched, but he didn’t move. he didn’t look for her.

Harry handed over the record, hesitating a little before letting go of it. He'd been listening to it nonstop since he'd left Los Angeles, and parting with it was more difficult than he originally thought it would be. When he first came to the cafe, he'd looked for it within the crammed shelves huddled in the corner. The shopkeeper had never even heard of it, and Harry could only imagine what Y/n would say if she knew. She'd been the one to introduce him to it, the memory of that conversation in her apartment seared into his brain.

"Wings?" Harry had asked, not quite suspiciously, but the glare Y/n sent over his shoulder made it seem like he'd already written it off. Her glare is so cute, he remembered thinking, admiring the adorable furrow of her brow as she rooted through a collection of vinyls that was bigger than anything Harry had ever seen.

"It'll change your life," she'd promised, before sliding the record out of its sleeve and putting it on the turntable. Her record player was littered with stickers, some too faded or covered by others to see them properly.

She'd grinned as the opening chords to the first track played, settling next to Harry as she picked up her wine glass, her lips puckering around it to take a sip. She hadn't noticed him staring until about a minute later, when her eyes met his. Her brows had furrowed once more, but this time it was more confused. She'd nudged Harry's leg with her foot, which was covered in a purple patterned fuzzy sock.

"It's your turn, isn't it?" she'd asked, eyes darting to the Scrabble board on the coffee table.

Harry remembered taking the wine glass from Y/n's hands and setting it on the table next to the board. He remembered taking her face in his hands and kissing her. He remembered her squeak of surprise but that she didn't pull away.

Their very first kiss.

The memory of her delicate hands sliding into his hair, of her crawling into his lap, the little noise she made as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip—it was all-consuming as Harry sat down at his usual table at the cafe a million miles from Y/n and Los Angeles.

"It'll changed your life," she'd promised him. Little did he know, she already had.

*.*

A week after Harry left, you received a text from your ex, a total surprise seeing as you hadn't spoken to him since you'd broken up.

Gavin: I heard about what happened with you and my sister. Can we meet somewhere and talk?

That message sat in your inbox without a response for hours as you tried to work up the courage to say yes. You knew you needed to, you knew you would feel better after the fact, that both of you deserved closure after the colossal end to your relationship, but every time your thumb hovered over the keyboard, you chickened out.

Until finally, you wrote, Okay.

Seeing Gavin again was a trip. He looked the same, yet so different at the same time. He had facial hair for one thing, and his hair was a couple inches longer than it had been when you were together. Deep down, you assumed a public shaming on his part, you feared he would just berate you for all the ways you'd hurt him and that he hated you for breaking his heart and humiliating him.

But that had never been who Gavin was. Your ex was kind and honorable, he tipped generously on dinner dates and warmed up socks for you in the dryer because he knew how cold you got after a long day at work. He was the definition of a sweetheart, and assuming the worst about him was just the fear and insecurity talking.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, Gavin," you said, trying to hold all the excess of emotion brimming to the surface as you walked beside him. You'd agreed on a walk through the park as opposed to sitting down somewhere, both of you perhaps too nervous to sit still.

Gavin merely nodded, which was more than you could've asked for given the circumstances. "Thank you. So much time has passed, but...it feels nice to hear."

It was a while before either of you said anything. Los Angeles wasn't a frozen tundra by any means, but it was quite brisk by the ocean, and you crossed your arms across your chest to retain a bit of heat.

Then, Gavin said, "I...I just need to know why. Did I do something? I thought things were good between us. I mean I wanted to—"

Maybe it was the cold, but his cheeks were rosy as his voice tapered off. "You didn't do anything wrong, Gav," you said, wanting to take his hand but refraining. It didn't feel like something you could do anymore. Even if two years had come and gone, you couldn't make yourself cross that line. It didn't feel right.

You didn't know how to sugarcoat your words, but you hoped time would soften the blow. "I just...I realized that you were in love with me and I—I just wasn't. I wanted to be, I wanted to be in love with you, but—And then I panicked. I overheard your mom and sister talking about you wanting to propose, and I just couldn't lead you on. I couldn't let you do that knowing you deserved better than what I could give you.

"But it killed me, Gavin," you said, tearing up just thinking about it. "Hurting you is the worst thing I've ever done, and I've—I've hated myself for putting you through that, and I couldn't face you after, which was unfair of me."

"I just wanted an explanation," Gavin said quietly, his head bent so you couldn't see his face. "All I ever wanted was to understand. I think that hurt more than you breaking up with me, that you couldn't offer me that decency."

You nodded with a sniffle, keeping your eye on the slate blue of the ocean and the clouds covering your favorite shade of sky blue. "It was selfish of me to ignore you, I know that. I just...couldn't. I was scared that you would convince me to come back when that wasn't really what I wanted, and with your family and friends constantly messaging me, I just thought staying away was for the best."

"Y/n, what—what messages? What are you talking about?"

"You really don't know?" Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Gavin's family would never do or say anything to him that would make them look bad in his eyes. But so much time had passed that you thought it would've slipped. He'd heard about the coffee house incident, after all.

With shaking hands, you reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. After scrolling through your messages, you passed it to Gavin, letting him look for himself. He was quiet as he looked over the messages from his sister. There were others, but Larissa's were the most vicious. A more mentally sound person would've deleted them ages ago, but you liked to punish yourself when you were feeling particularly low.

"I don't hold any of this against you," you said. "I know you're not your family, but I just...I don't know."

"I wish I'd known about all this before," Gavin mumbled with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry for them."

"Thank you."

You didn't know what to say after that, you weren't even sure you wanted to dwell on the past anymore. It had gone by so quickly in your eyes, but two years suddenly felt like ten. You felt older, more jaded as you walked next to the man you were almost engaged to.

"Are you happy?" you asked suddenly, stopping at a bench and sitting down.

Gavin sat down next to you. He handed your phone back before sighing. "I am. I wasn't for a while, but I am. You?"

You nodded. "Learning to be. I think I was...in a rough place before I started seeing you, and now I think I'm finally on the other side of it."

Gavin's grin was familiar. It felt good to see it, but it didn't give you the butterflies that it used to. Maybe just a little relief. You smiled back, nudging him with your shoulder. "You seeing anyone?"

The blush on Gavin's cheeks told you everything you needed to know, and knowing he moved on settled something in you. "Yeah. We've been together about a year now."

Sometimes you daydreamed about who Gavin would be with when he eventually moved on. Someone perky, but not in an obnoxious way. Maybe she liked to paint and drew pictures of his profile while they had picnics together, because picnics were the kind of dates they would go on. They would hold hands in the popcorn bowl at the movies and wear matching sweaters on Christmas. The girl who would truly steal Gavin's heart would be just as sweet and generous as he was and would make his lunches for work and wipe his mouth at dinner with a smile and love him with her entire being because he deserved it.

"That's wonderful, Gav," you said earnestly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed, hoping he knew you were telling the truth. The only thing you hoped was that he kept her far, far away from his family.

"Are you? Seeing anyone?"

A simple question, and yet you didn't know how to offer a simple answer. Eventually, you shook your head. "Uh...no."

"Brothers scaring the line of willing suitors?" he joked, knowing full well how your brothers could be.

Laughing, you shook your head. "No, nothing like that, I just—It's complicated, I guess."

You couldn't quite believe that you were having this conversation today, especially with Gavin. But talking to him had always come easy, it was one of the things you liked best about being with him.

"If you can believe it," you added, a little humor in your voice. "I was the one who was ready to take things further."

For a moment, you worried you'd taken things too far, but his brows just raised amusingly. "No shit. Really?"

"He wasn't ready. Just my luck. I finally get my shit together and he takes off to another continent."

You didn't resent Harry for leaving. He'd done what was best for him, but that didn't mean the timing didn't suck. You finally felt comfortable and confident enough to be open with someone, and they fled the country.

Okay, so Harry didn't flee the country, but you felt the blow to your ego no matter how rational you were about the situation.

"He'll come around," Gavin promised, which took you by surprise. "You're probably not aware, but you're very easy to fall in love with, Y/n."

Your cheeks flushed, feeling Gavin's words right down to your toes. It didn't feel romantic in any sort of way, but there was some reassurance. Gavin knew you well, and he had been a good friend.

And yet, the only thing you could think as you continued to catch up with your ex was, Then why is it so hard for me to fall in love?

*.*

Harry hadn't realized it, but he'd started to keep a list in his head, a mental tally of all the little things he learned about Y/n and that made her who she was.

The list had started with small trivial things like her coffee order and that she seemed to be particularly fond of wearing bandanas in her hair or that she always carried the same canvas tote on her shoulder, one that read, "You're Doing Great," in squiggly blue writing. From there, the list grew, and he suddenly began to collect bits of information from Y/n like valuable trading cards—what it was like growing up with three older brothers, how long she stayed in Nashville before moving out to Los Angeles, and what the perfect record was for when she was feeling sad. Harry wanted to know everything, every little piece she was willing to give him until he understood even the smallest gesture.

"Why don't you perform your songs?"

It was a question that lingered in the back of his mind for weeks now. Harry had heard Y/n sing on multiple occasions as they wrote together, and he couldn't help but think that she was the whole package. She could sing, had the kind of voice that was soft and low, a little raspy but easy to harmonize with. She wrote incredible songs that held so much depth and emotion and she could play multiple instruments. Harry could see her selling out stadiums and connecting to people through music that she wrote and performed. Yet she didn't.

"I never really had the desire to," Y/n said with a shrug. They were in his backyard, sitting around a bonfire with a bottle of wine between them. It was her turn to pick, and Chris Stapelton was crooning through her phone's speaker.

"Is it like a stage fright thing?"

"No, not at all," Y/n said. "I just don't think that life was made for me, you know? I don't know if I could handle being famous."

Harry supposed he understood what she meant. He loved his life, but it wasn't always a walk in the park. But it did make him wonder if she would ever be with someone like him, someone who did lead a life that she thought she couldn't handle. For the first time since he'd met her, Harry decided he didn't want to know.

"What about...singing backup or joining your favorite musician on tour once he releases the greatest album since...So?"

"I didn't peg you for a Peter Gabriel fan," she murmured, immediately recognizing the title, and Harry couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that she knew exactly what album he was referring to. "But, I guess so. If it was for a friend."

Harry tucked that little nugget of information away. Tour was worlds away at the moment, but it was always good to think ahead, especially when he knew he needed a keyboardist replacement.

Looking up, he admired Y/n in the glow of the bonfire, his heart beating rapidly even though she wasn't even doing anything. Ever since their first kiss a week ago, he just wanted more. His brain could hardly keep up with his heart and how badly it longed for her. And she didn't even realize the effect she had on him. She drove him crazy.

And that scared him. Harry had only recently broken up with his ex, and he didn't think it was possible to feel so strongly for someone after coming out of a pretty serious relationship with someone else. He knew he should untangle the strings, that if he let things get too far, they'd get messy, and he and Y/n would both end up hurt.

But that voice in his head that told him to be careful became a low buzz as Y/n stood up and shuffled over to him before placing herself in his lap. Her fingers came up to play with the hair that curled at the nape of Harry's neck, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at the feeling, at her closeness, at the smell of her perfume that lingered on her clothes.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered, almost like she was talking to herself and not to Harry. "And I don't have any expectations, but I'm okay with it if you are."

Yet. Y/n didn't have any expectations yet. He knew the familiar thudding of his heart, the excited flutter in his stomach as he leaned into her touch. Of course there would be expectations, but Harry found himself nodding anyway, unable to deny either of them the pleasure of her lips sliding lightly against his. Y/n had never initiated anything between them before, and her tentative kiss told Harry she was unsure of herself. At first glance, she came off as unsure when it came to most things, but Harry learned that she held within herself a quiet confidence that he admired.

Harry stood up with her in his arms as he led them back inside. He didn't know where this would lead, tonight or any night to follow. He didn't know if Y/n was ready to sleep with him, and he honestly wasn't sure if he was either. But he wanted her close and to feel those gentle hands a little firmer in his hair. That was all he knew, and he let himself not think about anything else.

The tangles of his feelings were positively knotted, and despite his long list of things he knew about Y/n, he still didn't know where her heart truly lay. But if she was willing to walk through the fire blind, then so was he.

*.*

Two weeks into Harry being gone, and you were starting to wonder when you'd become so pathetic.

In the time since Harry left for Japan, you hadn't written a single song, not even a lyric. It was ludicrous. You'd written by yourself your entire career, but after a couple months spent with a writing partner, you were rendered insipirationless.

Not to mention semi-friendless.

It wasn't that Harry's friends didn't want to hang out, you just weren't sure you could. Outside of Sylvia, you didn't hang out with Harry's team without him, and it just felt weird to start doing so now. You didn't shy away from them when you saw them in the hallways of the building you all worked in, but you never knew what to say past a casual greeting.

Funnily enough, though, you'd said everything you needed to say to Gavin. Meeting up with him eased a heaviness in your chest you'd been carrying around with you for the last two years. You both were able to get the closure that you'd been denying yourselves, and it felt good to get everything out in the open, to receive Gavin's forgiveness after punishing yourself for such a long time.

Seeing Gavin and talking to him left you feeling lighter, but it also left you a little hollow to. With no rain cloud hanging over your head anymore, you didn't know what to do with yourself. The concept of happiness was something you'd never thought you would get, and now that it was within reach you were hesitant.

"Maybe we need a sabbatical, pookie," you said to your dog, kissing his nose. "What do you think?"

Buddy Holly didn't have a response for you, he just tilted his head at the sound of your voice. Sighing, you scratched his head and pressed play on the movie you'd previously been watching before your dog unceremoniously climbed into your lap.

Now that Harry was gone on his journey of self-discovery, you'd gone back to spending your nights alone. In theory, it should've been easy. Before Harry, being alone was second nature, but your first night alone you were at a loss. You kept wanting to reach for your phone and call him, send him a text about the record you were listening to or the ridiculous thing Buddy had done that day. You didn't realize of much Harry had engrained himself into your life, and now he was half a world away.

Reaching out wasn't an option, either, no matter how much you wanted to. He didn't tell you much for his reasons for leaving, a "writing retreat," he claimed, but you knew it was more than that. There was shit he needed to figure out, shit regarding his past relationship, so you felt the ball was in his court.

The next day, you were on the elevator going up to work, arguing with your brother on the phone.

"Nothing's wrong, Hayden," you insisted, rubbing a tired hand over your face.

"No, there definitely is. Evan, Andrew, and I all agree," Hayden said. "Something's definitely wrong with you. And when something's wrong with you, it's usually one of three things. Menstruation, a guy, or one of us, and seeing as we haven't done anything, and your period doesn't—"

"Oh my God, Hayden!" you groaned as the elevator doors opened. "I'm not...menstruating. Jesus! The fuck is wrong with you?"

Hayden kept jabbering in your ear, but you weren't listening anymore because the elevator doors had opened to reveal someone on the other side. Mitch, Harry's friend was standing there, eyes wide as he looked at you, clearly having heard your side of the conversation with your brother.

God, could this day get any worse? you thought. Shutting your eyes, you wondered if you stood there long enough with your eyes closed, the elevator doors would close and take you straight to hell or you would maybe just disappear on the spot. Either would be appreciated.

"Hayden, I have to call you back."

"You're still coming to my game this weekend right?" he asked.

"Wearing the other team's jersey," you muttered, hanging up as your brother began to protest.

Since the elevator doors stayed open and you didn't spontaneously combust, you opened your eyes. "Hey."

Mitch nodded. "Hey, Y/n."

The air was so incredibly awkward, and you wondered why you weren't sprinting toward your studio and locking yourself in permanently. But neither of you moved, and now you felt the need to explain yourself. "I...I wish I had an explanation other than my brothers still seem to ruin my life from hundreds of miles away, but I don't."

You finally stepped out of the elevator and moved around Mitch, who stepped inside. He still had that tense smile on his face, and you wondered if the two of you would ever be able to make eye contact again. Not that you ever did all that much before this God-awful incident. Just another reason to avoid Harry's friends.

"Right. H mentioned you had brothers," he said. "See you around, Y/n."

For my own sanity, I hope not, you prayed to whoever was listening.

*.*

"Do you ever think about what you would be doing if you weren't doing...this?" Y/n asked, gesturing vaguely around her.

Harry looked down to where she was spread out on the floor, her head rested in his lap while he leaned against his sofa. He wasn't quite sure how they ended up on the floor, but he didn't dare move, resisting the urge to run his fingers through her hair. It was shiny, and smelled faintly of apples. He wondered if it was as soft as he imagined.

Blinking, he stumbled around in his brain for an answer, clearing his head of thoughts of silky hair passing through his fingers. "Honestly? No, not really."

"You don't?"

Harry shrugged even though Y/n's eyes were closed. She did that often if there was music playing, as if she was trying to absorb every note into her body while maintaining a conversation. Right now they were listening to one of Harry's current favorites: a Joni Mitchell album he'd grown up listening to with his mum. He remembered when he used to scramble for answers in interviews when he was asked about his favorite artist or album, trying to come up with an answer that the media would want to hear without appearing fake. He'd list classic rock bands like Fleetwood Mac and wear old band t-shirts from the seventies. He didn't not like those artists, he loved them. But when Y/n asked about his favorite record in his collection, he didn't hesitate to reach for Joni Mitchell, knowing she wouldn't judge him for his answer.

"No. I was so young when I auditioned for the X-Factor," Harry explained. "I don't even think I knew what I wanted to study in school then, so it's hard to know what I would be doing now if it weren't for all...this."

And I wouldn't have met you, he thought but kept that to himself. Neither of them was ready for those kinds of words if he was being honest. Y/n was skittish about feelings at the best of times, and he didn't know where his feelings for her started, and getting over his ex ended. It gave him a headache if he thought about it too long, so he didn't.

Y/n sat up, and Harry resisted the urge to pull her back to him. As they hung out more and more, he had this overwhelming desire to be near her as much as possible. A hollowness would form in his chest if he didn't seek her out at the studio, leaving him blushing like an idiot every time he left his friends behind as he walked down the familiar hallway to her door. None of them ever said anything outright, but he could practically hear their teasing thoughts, but he couldn't help it. Y/n had drawn him in from the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

"Maybe you'd be a florist," she said with a small grin.

"A florist?"

"Yeah." Y/n's grin grew, and Harry swore his heart grew with it. When he initially started spending time with her, or bugging her, more like, she hardly smiled. He thought it was such a shame. Not only because Y/n had a beautiful smile, but because she felt like she couldn't. Harry never wanted her to feel like she couldn't be happy, least of all around him. "You could have this big truck and deliver flowers to baby showers and weddings and other big occasions."

"Oh yeah? And where are you in this scenario?" he asked, somewhat nervous to hear the answer.

A blush crept up Y/n's cheeks as she looked at him. "In the passenger seat."

*.*

The third week Harry was gone, a stranger popped into your studio. A sense of deja vu had run through you as you looked up to find someone occupying the space in your doorframe, only Harry never knocked to make his presence known. You'd always just been aware of him when he entered the room.

"Can I help you?" you asked. You were working on a song that you actually quite liked. A new angle, a different approach to songs that you wanted to see through, and interruptions weren't going to help.

"Mitch said to come find you," he said. He looked a little nervous at having disrupted your work, so you eased up on your stare. "He said you could help us?"

Us? you thought. You supposed that it wasn't too far fetched that Harry's team would make themselves busy while he was off on sabbatical, or whatever it was he'd been doing in Japan. You hadn't heard from him much, and you tried not to let that hurt your feelings too much.

Brows furrowed, you said, "I'm sorry, I don't know how I would help—"

"He said you've written for country artists before?" the guy said. "We're sort of stuck and he said to come find you, so..."

Sighing, you stood up, but not before jotting a couple notes down in your journal. Perhaps it was kismet that the song you'd been playing around with today had been country in your mind. The prospect of writing with anyone other than Harry felt odd, uncomfortable. But Harry wasn't here, and you didn't know when he would be back and you couldn't just hide in your studio because he'd left.

You didn't know what to expect as you followed the man, Daniel, he'd finally introduced, led you to a studio a couple rooms away from yours. You'd met Harry's writing and production team a number of times, but Harry wasn't a country artist, so Mitch was clearly helping out with a different project, which meant introducing yourself to a whole new group.

Mitch was waiting with one other person, a young woman who was about your age or younger. She had blond curly hair and light blue eyes, a smile on her face at something Mitch said. When you entered the room, you couldn't help but think back to last week when you'd completely embarrassed yourself in front of Mitch. You hadn't seen him since, and even though it was probably unlikely, you'd hoped you'd never have to again.

Introductions were made quickly before a chair was pulled out for you. The young woman's name was Cam, and she was working on putting out her first ever single. "And album eventually, but we're starting out small," she said with a bashful grin. "I'm such a huge fan of your work, and when Mitch said you were just down the hall, I told him he had to introduce me. I swear I love every song you've ever written."

Nodding, you gripped the soft leather binding of your journal, wondering what Mitch was angling at here. From the short amount of time you'd spent with him, he seemed rather quiet. A chill person who mostly kept to himself. You weren't sure why you were being dragged into one of his projects.

"Yeah. That's where I started my career," you said. "I'm sorry—Did you want my help with a song?"

"The whole album too, hopefully," Cam said, and you could see it in her eyes how bad she wanted this. She was ambitious, but not in a way that made you want to run back to your room and have nothing to do with this project. You eyed her scuffed boots and the worn friendship bracelets on her wrists and the hope that lined her body as she waited for you to say something.

"I usually work alone," you said. "But, I—I did happen to be writing something a little country today if you wanted to take a look."

You handed your journal over to the young woman, trying to decide if you wanted to be part of this little team. On the one hand, you thought Harry would be the only person you'd feel comfortable writing with, but...if he had a team, why couldn't you? Perhaps Harry had opened you up to the possibility of branching out and trying things you'd closed yourself off to in the past.

At the very least, you decided, you would hear her out, see how you gelled with this small group. If not for any other reason than as a small favor to an acquaintance. You didn't know Mitch all that well, but you considered him someone you knew.

And to be honest, maybe you were getting tired of staying holed up in a studio by yourself all the time.

So now you were meeting with Cam, Mitch, and Daniel regularly. That first day, you stayed at the studio late at night workshopping ideas and getting a feel for the sound and vision Cam was going for. And it was easy. Bouncing ideas off each other, picking up the guitar and playing a potential riff and letting Mitch carry it somewhere else, working out harmonies and melodies with Cam. You'd left the studio later than you ever had that night, but energy coursed through your veins as you left the building.

You'd never been a part of something at the start with the means to see it through. You usually wrote songs and sold them to whoever wanted them, and with Harry, you'd joined in songwriting when he and his team were well underway, but this...this was new, and you didn't hate it. In fact, you were looking forward to meeting the next day, and the next, and the next...

Weeks flew by as you worked on this album, and you suddenly lived off takeout boxes and snacks as you spent many a late night as you worked on song after song, eager to see this project come to life. There wasn't necessarily a deadline, but you were all just eager to keep working on what you all knew was something special. And today Mitch was going to teach you how to play the drums while Cam met with her record label for an hour. It felt like there was finally light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel, one that you'd been winding through the last two years. It felt good to feel this light again, even your brothers got off your back a little, though you knew that wouldn't last very long.

"I'm on my way right now, and I'm bringing Buddy because he's being extra clingy today," you said into the phone. "He's also my reason for going home at a reasonable hour—"

Time stopped as you opened the door to your apartment. Your heart was in your throat, partly because you were startled to find someone on the other side, and then because your eyes finally registered who was on the other side.

"Y/n?"

Blinking, you quickly told Cam you had to go before hanging up the phone, slipping it in your coat pocket before letting it drop to the floor. You ran a hand over your face, wondering if you'd magically conjured him to your door, or if you were so tired you were suddenly delirious, but when you uncovered your eyes, he was still there, hands tucked in his pockets and a suitcase resting by his feet, a cat carrier on top of it.

"Harry? What—What are you doing here? When did you—"

There was no time to think or speak or breathe as Harry surged forward, his hands suddenly out of his pockets and settling deep in your hair, and kissed you.

The kiss was bruising, making it hard to think straight, making it hard to think about anything but him. His cologne flooded your senses as if you'd never smelled it before, making you sigh against his mouth and giving him ample opportunity to slide his tongue against yours as he backed you against the doorframe with a soft thud.

Your hands flew of their own accord, reaching beneath Harry's coat and gripping the shirt he wore beneath it. You needed to feel him, to know he was really here in front of you, that he wasn't going to evaporate in your hands leaving you with only the memory of his kiss. You'd had that particular dream one too many times.

Harry's hands smoothed down your sides, rucking up your shirt and setting your skin on fire when his thumbs brushed your ribcage. Your breaths stuttered until you finally had to pull back to catch it Instinctively, Harry followed, his mouth searching for yours, then your neck, but you held him in place for a moment.

"Wait," you said, breaths shallow. Harry stopped immediately, eyes roving your face in a similar way to how you were doing so. When he finally met your gaze, a small, shy smile, spread across your lips. "H—Hi."

Harry's responding grin was radiant. "Hi."

*.*

"I don't understand, when—when did you get back?"

It was safe to say you weren't going into the studio. There were about ten seconds of protesting before you finally caved, and it had nothing to do with Harry's lips on your neck or his hands sneaking beneath your shirt. "Stay," Harry had mumbled. "Please? There's so much I want to say."

So you stayed, though you hadn't really spoken much. You and Harry had ended up on your couch huddled up together under a blanket, Buddy Holly dozing at your feet. You kept waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say, but he kept quiet. It was nice for a while, but you began to itch with the need for answers. You didn't want to immediately fall back into old habits the second he came back, even if laying flush against his chest was the most peaceful you felt in weeks. You were nervous to talk to him, to hear him say that after staying away for two months, he still didn't want a relationship. But even so, it would be better to know the truth and start getting over it now than to hold out hope.

"Today," Harry said. "I came straight here from the airport."

"Why? Wouldn't you want to go home? Get settled. Sweet Pea probably misses home."

Harry raised his head from where he'd been resting it in the crook of your neck. His brows raised suspiciously to where his cat was dozing on top of Buddy, as if she'd never left. "I think she's rather comfortable."

"You're awfully comfortable too," you said under your breath. Then, even though you felt so warm in his embrace, you sat up, putting some distance between yourself and Harry.

You could tell he wanted to protest, his sleepy eyes and mussed brown curls covering his forehead in a messy tangle told you that all he wanted was to fall asleep next to you. You wanted that too, but your mind kept drifting back to that last conversation, to that last exchange of words, and you let them keep that small bubble of distance between you and him.

"I need to know why you're here, H," you said, raising your knees up to your chest.

Harry could hear the seriousness in your voice, his expression sobering a little. He sat up too, facing you as he took up his place at the corner of the couch. There were only a couple inches between you, but it felt like Harry was still in Japan with how distant you felt from him now. He was home, but was he really? You didn't know how your friendship was going to evolve from here. You supposed you could be okay with just being his friend. It would sting, but you would get over it.

Eventually.

You hoped.

"I...just knew that this was where I needed to be," he said, not meeting your eye. "I came home and the only person I wanted to see was you."

His words meant more than you cared to admit. They filled you with warmth, bringing a flush to your cheeks that you prayed Harry didn't see.

"I missed you too," was all you could think of to say.

"And I—I want more," Harry said. "I was halfway across the world, and I was writing and walking around the city, and all I wanted was to share those moments with you and write with you and wake up next to you. I just...I want you in my life, Y/n."

"As your friend?" you asked, your voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

"However you'll have me."

Your heart leaped in your chest, but you stopped yourself from launching across the couch into his arms. It was all too good to be true. Harry wasn't ready for a relationship before he left, and you'd been gracious and understood where he was coming from. And now that a few weeks had passed, he suddenly wanted to be whatever you wanted him to be. In the back of your mind, the fact that he hadn't said "boyfriend" pricked a sensitive part of your brain. It was silly and minuscule, and it shouldn't have mattered, so you tried not to let it.

Still, you were unsure. You knew Harry would never be so cruel as to feed you words for the sake of placating you, but something left you hesitating. Maybe it was that the last time you saw Harry, he told you he couldn't give you what you wanted and now he was saying he could, or maybe your heart was still protecting you from potential pain, you weren't sure. But you couldn't give in.

Almost as if he could read the jumbled thoughts running around in your head, Harry inched toward you, his expression soft and open. "I can tell you're unsure, and I don't blame you," he said, taking a chance and reaching a hand across the couch to hold yours. "Let me prove it to you."

Brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side. "Prove it?"

"We'll go slow," Harry said as he nodded and moved closer. Close enough to tip your chin up with his knuckle. "We can do that, can't we? We don't have to rush things. We can just...go on a date and see what happens, right?"

Despite the hesitation, a smile twitched at the corner of your lips. "Harry Styles...are you asking me on a date?"

Harry's responding grin was wide and sweet as honey. "Only if you're saying yes."

Eight weeks ago, you'd stepped out of your comfort zone by asking Harry for more, and watching him walk away hurt more than you ever thought it would. Your instinct was to hide, to crawl back into your shell before you could get hurt again. But you knew Harry had been hurt before too, and now he was trying. Even though they'd both had their hearts broken for different reasons and had every reason not to give into their feelings and hide, preferring to be alone.

It took you two years to..."forgive yourself" didn't seem like the right words. To be ready to put yourself into the world again, to allow yourself the possibility of hurting and being hurt in that way again. Your scars had healed over into faint white lines after two whole years. Nearly imperceptible, but still there, a subtle but constant reminder of what you stood to lose if you ruined things again. But also a reminder that you could love and lose and still heal, and maybe even love again. Harry hadn't been there when he left, and at the time you hoped he would be. And maybe part of you knew he would be, because you'd gotten there too in your own way.

The hope that kindled in your chest made you nervous, but it made you excited too.

"I—I don't want you to feel like you have to do this because—"

Harry's index finger was on your lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes nearly crossed as you looked down your nose at it, and you heard his chuckle at what was most likely a silly look on your face. "I know I don't have to do anything, Y/n. I needed some time to clear my thoughts and untangle all of my feelings. I want this. I want you."

Over your time spent with Harry, you'd come to realize he had expressive eyes. While he kept a lot to himself and didn't share much unless it was through songwriting, his eyes said everything. This close to his face, you could see the honesty, the earnestness. You decided to believe him, to believe in whatever had been forming between you since the first time you'd met.

Not holding back, you did lunge for him this time, but gently, seeing as he was so close. Harry seemed surprised by your sudden movements but didn't stop you as you took his face in your hands and kissed him for all he was worth. You felt his face slowly split into a grin as his hands roved up and down your back, as if he was finally reacquainting himself with your body. Or maybe it was that this kiss was different from all the others, with different expectations and intentions and promises for more.

"What happened to slow?" he asked, teasing as you nipped at his ear.

"Tell me to stop," you said, feeling out of breath.

He didn't, you knew he wouldn't, but that only made him grin even more. "I still want to do things properly," he told you, leaning back against the couch and taking you with so that you were on top of him, your body flush against his. "I want to take you out, I want to hold your hand and pull your chair out for you at dinner."

Resting on your elbows, you lightly traced the delicate planes of his face with your finger. Harry's eyes tracked your movements while he waited for you to answer, kissing the pad of your index finger when it passed over his lips. You smiled a little, unsure of where all this giddiness was coming from but hoping it wouldn't go away.

"I want that too," you murmured before kissing the tip of his nose. "But maybe that can start tomorrow."

Harry's hand came up to cradle the side of your face, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. Everything already felt different. New and fragile and breakable. So, so breakable.

"Your heart was glass, I dropped it," you'd written way back. You had the potential to break Harry's heart. But the notion that you wouldn't was so intrinsic in that moment, you felt like the only way you would crack the glass this time was by squeezing too hard, by liking him too much.

You didn't know what you would do if Harry would drop yours.

It was a terrifying thought, one that was too dreadful for the peaceful bliss taking over your apartment. Harry was looking at you like your hair was made of stars or pure sunlight, and it warmed every inch of you down to your bones as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone.

"I can get behind that," he said quietly.

After that, you finally relaxed. Your head found purchase on his chest, comfortable against the soft material of his sweatshirt despite the firmness of his body beneath you. You breathed in deep, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it all out in one soft exhale. With that breath, you felt the last of your doubts flutter away—for now, at least—allowing you to believe in the promise Harry offered you.

*.*

"Come on. If you're not going to let me go to work, you're gonna help me here."

You managed to untangle yourself from Harry, who pouted at you as he remained sprawled out on your bed. Leaving him there, you went to the front door to where you'd left your guitar case when you found him on your doorstep yesterday. Slipping your well-loved guitar from the case, you walked back over to Harry, who was now sitting up on the couch. His eyes tracked your every move as you made your way back over to him. His stare felt heated, causing a flush to your cheeks, but you ignored it as you settled on one end of the couch, resting the guitar in your lap.

"Looks like you already have something in mind," Harry said. He still sounded playful, but you knew he wasn't going to try and dissuade you from this. He was just as eager to write as a team as you were.

Writing without Harry while he was gone was strange. At first you thought you'd be fine, seeing as you'd preferred working in solitude most of your professional career. Yet when he left, you were unable to write. You found yourself looking for him, raising your head to ask what he thought of a melody when he wasn't there, thinking out loud as if he was still in the room to bounce ideas off of.

You'd missed him in more ways than one, that was certain. This new dynamic with Mitch had been good, fun even. You attributed your openness to teamwork to Harry, and now you were nearly finished with an album, a project you'd been part of from start to finish, something you'd never really been able to say before. You'd enjoyed going into the studio to work with Mitch, to share song ideas with Cam and see where she took them. If given the option, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

But something in you settled as you began to idly pluck at the strings of your guitar, Harry sifting through his duffle bag until he produced his leatherbound journal from it. You felt comfortable, complete, not an atom out of place as you began to sing the lyrics of a partial song you were going to work on with your team today.

"There is a town, somewhere down a country road," you sang softly. "I see it now, take it everywhere I go. The river sways, I can almost here it now. As if to say, 'You're not the only one who wants a way out.'"

"That's nice," Harry said, his thumb tapping against his knee in time with the music coming from your guitar. "Something new?"

"I've had the idea for a song about a small town for a while," you said, fingers still plucking at the guitar strings, though not with much intent while you spoke to Harry. "My hometown."

Nodding, Harry said, "You don't talk about your home much."

"Not much to say," you shrugged. "At least I thought so. Now I just keep thinking how so much has changed since I moved away. How much I've changed,"

"Good changes, I hope," he said.

You shrugged again, trying not to let the topic make you squirm. You normally didn't around Harry, but perhaps being away from him for so long had you shying away just a little. "Good and...neutral, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I've changed so much I can't even reconcile who I was then and the person I am now. Not really sure if that's a good or bad thing yet. To be determined, I suppose."

Harry processed the information quietly, letting the conversation end there. You fell into a comfortable silence as both of you played around with lyrics and melodies in your own heads. You eventually grabbed your own journal to jot notes down in, and at one point Harry took your guitar into his own lap to play around, humming quietly to himself.

His plucking of the strings slowly became something less abstract and more concrete, and it eventually became the backdrop to your thinking process. You liked the tune he played better than what you'd originally come up with, and you let it guide your pen as you jotted down words and phrases until you eventually had something that might've been a pre-chorus or a bridge. Shifting closer to Harry on the couch, you showed him what you had so far, hoping he'd be able to fill in the gaps like he normally could.

You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he took your journal and pen from your offering hands. For a minute, the only sound was the tapping of the pen in his hand in time with the melody he'd been playing moments ago. You watched with slow blinking eyes as he eventually began to scribble his own little notes beside yours, sometimes writing lyrics of his own and occasionally circling a word you'd written and putting a suggestion above it.

The scratching of pen on paper was an unusual lullaby, but sure enough, the warmth emanating from Harry's body and the familiarity of this moment, yet something precious and new blooming between you, was enough for your breaths to deepen, your blinks to become fewer and far between. Even after being on a plane all the way from Japan, the scent of Harry's cologne and whatever laundry detergent he used lingered on his clothes. It was so familiar, as much of a welcome home as him actually being here beside you.

Breathing in deep, you huddled closer to Harry. Feeling your movements at his side, Harry shifted so that you were leaning against him more comfortably, his body solid yet soft beneath your cheek. "I missed this," you murmured, the words clinging together as you inched closer and closer toward sleep. "I missed you."

There was no stiffening of his posture at the words, no hesitation or uncertainty as he said, "I missed you too."

*.*

"Don't leave again," Y/n said.

Harry was pretty sure she was already half asleep, was sure she wouldn't even remember this conversation when she woke up in a couple of hours. But even so, the words made him pause, the pen in his hand jerking almost imperceptibly.

Y/n hadn't brought up his departure since he'd come back yesterday. Even now, she didn't sound resentful, though that could've been the fact that she was seconds away from falling asleep, but Harry didn't think so. Yet in her current limbo between states of consciousness, she revealed something that she probably wouldn't have if she'd been fully awake.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you by going," he said, and he knew he was a bastard for saying it when she was seconds from falling asleep.

A deep breath, then another, then another.

"Don't leave me again," was all she said in reply, perhaps all she could muster just before unconsciousness finally settled over her like a blanket.

Harry's heart clenched. Don't leave me again, she told him. He'd learned rather quickly that despite all that she'd been through, Y/n hid a gentle heart behind all those walls she put up. A heart that had been battered and bruised and hidden away after so much unhappiness. Harry realized early on in their semi-friendship that he never wanted to be the reason for another wall between Y/n and the rest of the world; he wanted to be someone she could entrust to protect her gentle soul, to be someone who helped her realize she was much more fierce than she knew.

Knowing he'd caused her pain by leaving dug at him, even if leaving was in some ways very necessary. Harry needed that distance, that time away to clean up the mess his ex had left in him. Nothing about his previous relationship's demise was simple, and the things he'd begun to feel for Y/n while still trying to untangle himself from his ex only complicated things. Harry knew it would be a disservice to both himself and Y/n if he jumped into something he wasn't ready for. He felt horrible that night she'd laid all her cards on the table before him. He knew that it had taken a lot to state what she wanted from him so plainly, to realize that she was still deserving of more after what she'd been through. And Harry had to offer the same honesty, even if it was something even he didn't want to hear.

But it had been the right thing. For both of them. Of that he was sure. Harry had done a lot of introspecting, had allowed himself to simply be alone in a way he hadn't been for a long time. His last relationship was perhaps the most significant, but it was one in a rather long list of failed attempts to find love. His friends often teased him for not knowing how to not be in a relationship, and after this last breakup, he realized how right they were.

Harry liked Y/n. He was fascinated by her talent as a songwriter and enamoured by the person she was outside the studio. He liked her chunky patterned sweaters and the array of rings on her fingers that changed from day to day. He liked that she wasn't perfect, that she was shy to an almost stubborn degree, that he had to work hard to piece together who she was bit by bit until a beautiful mosaic was laid out in front of him.

But he needed to know that he knew how to be alone before giving himself over to her entirely. Who was he outside of a romantic relationship? Harry honestly had no idea, and while that had never even so much as itched his brain before, it terrified him after things ended with his ex. He owed it to himself to try to stand on his own two feet, to live on his own and know that he could be content to do so. He didn't need a relationship to be happy, that was what he set out to discover.

And once he did. Once he lived and wrote songs and got coffee and ate by himself, and didn't feel like an utter disaster, he knew he'd be okay.

Harry enjoyed himself in Japan. He'd committed himself to this soul-searching endeavor and actually came out on the other side of it pleased with himself. And at the end of it all, when he knew a relationship with Y/n wasn't something he needed but something he wanted, he knew he was ready to go home. He wanted her a lot, to be fair, so much so that he often wrote about her, and talked about her to the few friends he made in Japan. But being alone didn't kill him, and he was able to see that for himself the two months he was gone.

He left his feelings for his ex in Japan, letting every last bit of baggage he'd been quietly carrying around with him slide off his shoulders, holding onto those precious little blossoms of feeling for Y/n and bringing them home, right to her doorstep.

The plan hadn't been to go straight to her apartment, but that was where he told his driver to go when he slid into the backseat of the sleek black car his manager had sent to pick him up. Harry was actually supposed to go home and rest so he could meet with his label and discuss the progress of his album, but he stayed at Y/n's place anyway. He knew these next few months as the album went into recording and production mode wouldn't leave much time to spend alone with Y/n, and he needed these fleeting moments. He needed to hear all about the new album she was helping to write and what she and Buddy Holly had gotten up to while he was gone. He needed to kiss her, to touch her, to let her fall asleep against him while they wrote a song about a small town.

"I won't, I promise," Harry murmured, even though he knew Y/n was already asleep.

It was perhaps a promise to himself. He knew Y/n would never be that vulnerable, wouldn't reveal just how much she cared for him if she'd been entirely conscious. She'd been forgiving, if not a little hesitant when he showed up on her doorstep, but she'd never resented him for leaving. At least he thought she didn't. She'd been understanding when he left, but in her sleepy state, he saw a little bit of the hurt he'd inflicted by leaving, by rejecting her desire for something more with him.

Harry knew he'd done it for the right reasons, but guilt curled in his chest at the thought of hurting Y/n. He would commit himself to not doing it again, to be someone worthy of her vulnerability. Harry was aware of how precious it was for Y/n to open herself up to him like this. He wouldn't take that gift for granted.

Shifting around a bit, Harry took Y/n into his arms and stood up. He padded down the carpeted hallway to her bedroom, where a large, four-poster bed with a mountain of pillows and one stuffed animal lay on. He set her down on white sheets with little red polka dots, pulling up the covers over both of them. Y/n curled into Harry immediately, and he didn't even bother trying to shove away the warmth that spread through him.

With Y/n's cheek squished adorably against his chest, Harry rested his arm behind his head as his eyes flitted about her bedroom.

He'd been inside it a handful of times, but it never failed to amaze him, because for someone so convinced they were undeserving of love, they sure loved heart decorations. Retro Valentine hearts were mounted on one wall, twinkly lights dangling between them; pink and red heart-shaped candles remained unlit on her vanity, a heart-shaped guitar on a stand next to it. Everything centered around something pink or red—the sheets, the pillows, the jewelry dishes and mirrors, even the stuffed bunny under her pillow that Harry knew Y/n slept with, even if she wouldn't admit it.

It was a mystery he'd yet to solve, but he imagined that would come in time.

Soon enough, Harry's own eyes began to droop. He nestled deeper into the bed, trying not to completely drape himself over Y/n. They'd never actually spent the night in the same bed before last night. Sometimes they'd fall asleep together on the couch, but this was different. Last night, they'd collapsed into bed after staying up late talking, nearly well into the morning. There had been no tangled limbs or breaths keeping time because they slept so close together, just two people in dire need of sleep.

In some ways, Harry wondered if it was too much as they were only just beginning to explore this thing between them, but he couldn't make himself leave. He turned over so his back was to her, trying to provide a modicum of space should Y/n want it, but not even a minute later, an arm snaked around his waist, a cheek pressed against his back as one of her legs slotted between his.

It was safe to say Harry fell asleep with a small grin and a full heart.

*.*

The following weeks flew by, and you saw Harry every single moment that you could.

Now that his album was in the later stages of production, he was constantly in meetings for promotion—release dates, interviews, live performances, and concept art for the album. You stayed out of those conversations, as you had your own projects to complete and deadlines to meet. But you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious. You'd never been part of those conversations before, as you merely wrote your songs and sold the demos to artists or bands. Seeing an album from start to finish was intriguing, though perhaps part of the reason was the hand you played in it and how important Harry was to you.

But even with all of that going on, Harry stayed true to his word.

He made every moment count. Suddenly there were flowers on top of the grand piano when you entered your studio, and he stopped by whenever he could. Each petal, each little note attached to the bouquets, filled your stomach with butterflies. And after you were both done for the day, Harry invited you over to cook dinner and listen to records. The atmosphere was different than before Harry left, a more romantic feel in the air as you sat across from each other, the warm glow of candles the only lighting in the room.

With the public attention Harry tended to get, you both agreed to keep things quiet for now. You'd always preferred anonymity, and although you knew your relationship would eventually become public, you wanted it to stay between you and Harry and your friends and family. Hopefully in the future, when this precious thing between the two of you wasn't so new, you would feel more comfortable. Until then, it would be secret dates and romantic dinners from home, but that didn't make it feel any less special or real.

It didn't take long for your friends to notice, though.

You and Harry didn't have much to hide in front of Sylvia and the rest of the people who made up your little group, but neither you nor Harry really went out of your way to tell anyone about the slight change since he had come back from Japan.

One night, Sylvia decided to switch up the usual gatherings from game night to a night at a karaoke bar. You didn't mind. In fact, you loved watching everyone drink and take up a mic in the private room that had been rented out. Harry stayed by your side most of the night, an arm wrapped around your waist, his thumb subtly sneaking beneath the hem of your patchwork top to graze your skin and leave goosebumps in its wake, and a neat tequila in his other hand, your leather jacket draped over his arm after he insisted on carrying it for you. You opted for a margarita, sipping on it idly while you went between talking to Harry and watching the chaos unfold in front of you.

"What do you say, are we up next?"

"We?" you asked incredulously. "You go. I've actually been wanting to see you perform."

Harry chuckled, his nose brushing against your temple. "Come on, love. For me?"

You both knew you had a soft spot when Harry pleaded with you. Just one more hour at his place, just one more kiss, getting his favorite takeout, all of it just required a slight widening of his eyes and him saying, "Pleeeease," or, "For me?" as he nuzzled your cheek with his nose, and he had you. It was mostly harmless, but just like all the other times, it was working now.

"I don't know..." you said anyway, a small grin creeping its way onto your face. Harry only doubled down, which was exactly your goal.

"Please? I'll make it worth your while."

So that was how you ended up in front of the rest of your group of friends, a mic in your hand as you waited for Harry to pick the song. When the opening chords sounded through the speakers, you beamed, looking over at him with raised brows. Harry just sauntered over to you with a small grin, dancing over to you in that silly way of his that you learned was a unique trait he possessed.

"Islands in the Stream" was one of the songs the two of you had bonded over the last few months. You'd played it for him on the drive to Buddy Holly's favorite dog park, and the two of you sang it most car rides ever since.

Harry started the song, and you joined in, keeping your eyes on him for most of it. He definitely had more stage presence than you did, which you were fine with, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy yourself. Harry's eyes were on you the whole time too, his hip bumping against yours and spinning you around occasionally.

By the time it was over, there were cheers all around, and not just because Harry kissed you at the end. You'd made it all of two steps off the makeshift stage in the private room before you were tugged into a corner away from everyone else.

"What the hell was that?"

Sylvia was looking at you with wide, surprised eyes, though a grin stretched her cheeks. You couldn't hide your blush, opting to take the drink that Harry handed you once he found you again. "What?"

"You—You two are unbelievable," she laughed. "So this is real now? You two aren't acting like children anymore and pretending you aren't in love with each other?"

Trust Sylvia to make things between you and Harry awkward. Both of you laughed, though yours was more nervous because she'd revealed a truth you weren't quite ready to accept. Harry merely draped a hand over your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

*.*

"You look nervous," you said, taking Harry's hand that rested on the gear shift.

"Me? Never," Harry insisted, though he gripped your hand a little too tightly for you to believe it.

"It's just one brother," you said, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders.

You wouldn't lie to him and say meeting all three of your brothers at once would've been a walk in the park. But this was just Andrew, who was only in town for a night. You were pretty sure Hayden and Evan sent Andrew to investigate your relationship with Harry. For that exact reason, you hadn't divulged much to any of your brothers. After the whole, "Are you sure you're not menstruating" incident, you'd been giving Hayden the cold shoulder, so you knew for a fact that he'd enlisted Andrew's help to, at the very least, get back in your good graces, and hopefully get a little intel on your budding relationship.

"Andrew's harmless, I promise," you said. "He's about as threatening as a puppy."

Harry chuckled as he pulled into the trendy bar you had agreed to meet your brother at. "See, I want to believe you, but I've seen your brother play hockey, so...I don't."

Leaning across the center console, you kissed his cheek, quickly wiping away the lip gloss you'd left behind. Even in the dim lighting of the car, you saw Harry blush, which made you nudge him with your nose playfully. "I'll keep him in line, I promise."

You led Harry inside the bar, entering through a side door to remain relatively unnoticed, neck craning for your brother. Andrew wasn't hard to spot, his long arms waving back and forth from a tall table tucked in the corner of the bar. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you walked over to where your brother stood by waiting with open arms.

"How's my little sister?" Andrew asked as he squeezed the living daylights out of you.

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to remind him you were older. Instead, you stepped back and introduced him to Harry. For all his nerves, Harry didn't show it as he shook Andrew's hand and asked how he was doing. Even when you knew your brother squeezed his hand too hard, Harry just smiled and sat down on the barstool.

Things went surprisingly well. Despite your earlier reassurances, you'd been a little nervous about the questions Andrew might ask, ones not necessarily thought up by him, but by the brothers who were absent tonight.

"So, Harry, where do you see this relationship with my sister going? I noticed she didn't introduce you as her boyfriend."

Perhaps you'd spoken too soon.

"Andrew, seriously?" you said, kicking him under the table. "Tell Evan to butt out."

"Evan's not—"

"Oh please," you said. That question had your oldest brother written all over it. "Andrew, you leave our brothers out of this or I'll tell Harry what they used to call you in high school."

Blushing, Andrew backed down immediately, a flush crawling up his neck. You didn't like stooping to your brothers' level, usually the silent treatment got your brothers to grovel after pissing you off, but they really couldn't be surprised when you did from time to time. You learned from the best after all.

Clearing his throat, Harry broke up the stare down you and Andrew had been locked in. "Um, to answer your question, I think we both—not to speak for you, Y/n—but I think we both see this evolving into something more, we just haven't had that conversation yet."

His words filled you with warmth. You'd been thinking the same—you wanted more from Harry when he came back, and things had progressed from there. You didn't think boyfriend and girlfriend titles were far off, but now that you knew where you and Harry both stood, you were okay with taking things slow.

Not that Andrew, or your other brothers, for that matter, needed to know that.

The rest of the night went much better. Andrew eased up and was finally able to ask questions that had nothing to do with the intimate details of your relationship with Harry, and when Harry began asking Andrew about playoffs, it was all your brother could do to not talk about hockey.

Your brother left you and Harry in the parking lot with a final farewell of, "You're alright, Harry Styles, and you," he said facing you with a pointed stare. "Stop ignoring Hayden, please. You know how he gets when you don't give him attention."

Huffing, you said, "I'll think about it."

Andrew grinned. Your brothers were a lot of things, but from the moment you became a part of the family, you were a little princess to all of them. Evan, Hayden, and Andrew had their moments, but they never liked to make you too mad. Most of the time. Still, you knew Andrew, and you knew he liked to be the unspoken, "favorite brother."

Harry took you home, his hand in yours the whole way back. Neither of you said anything, unwinding from the interesting night. It honestly could've gone a lot worse, in your opinion. Andrew really was the least of your worries.

Like a gentleman, Harry walked you to the door when you got home. You held back from unlocking your apartment and stepping inside despite the cold, taking his hand in yours. "I'm sorry if things were a little tense tonight."

Harry shook his head. "You really have them wrapped around your finger, you know that?"

"They have good intentions. They just...they were all I had for a long time. They're protective. Especially Evan."

Growing up, your brothers were pretty much your whole family. You were all bonded by the same shitty father, growing up raising and protecting each other. You knew the questions and the protective attitudes came from a good place, especially after the way things broke down with Gavin and his family. Evan saw how much it affected you, and probably just didn't want to see you get hurt again.

"Well, I'm glad. Even if they do slightly terrify me."

"They're big pushovers," you said with a laugh. "And like you said, they're wrapped around my finger. You'll be fine, I promise."

Harry smiled, tipping your chin up. "Yeah? You promise?"

"Mhmm," was all you could manage as he began to kiss your neck, a chill that had nothing to do with the brisk weather licking down your spine. The excitement that surged through you almost had you leaping into his arms. You settled for wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know we've been taking things slow, but I—I wouldn't mind it."

"You wouldn't mind what?" Harry teased, pulling away slightly when you tried to kiss him. "Might need to do a little better than that if you want me to be your boyfriend."

Everything was so easy with Harry. The playful teasing, the serious conversations, getting drinks with your overprotective brother, all of it. You hadn't wanted someone this much since—well, since forever. Harry just made you so happy, and you wanted to chase that feeling, not hide from it. You spent way too much time hiding from life, from love.

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your fingers curling around the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Harry backed you against the door to your apartment, the hum coming from his chest once your tongues brushed together reverberating through you. His cheeks were cold as you held them in your hands, and you wanted nothing more than to haul him inside and never let him leave. But he had to be up early tomorrow and had to go back to his cat. You would make sure he'd regret leaving, though.

Eventually, you let go of him, your hands smoothing down the knit sweater he wore. You'd spent ages on the phone with him as he freaked out over what to wear. One coat was too flashy, but that t-shirt said he wasn't putting in any effort and didn't care about meeting a member of your family. On and on until you eventually made him turn the camera around to face his closet and pick something out for him. Black jeans and a black sweater with colorful depictions of the solar system eventually convinced him to finally leave the house. It was a little silly, but you appreciated how much effort he wanted to put into meeting Andrew, who absolutely would have reported back to Hayden and Evan what Harry wore, but Harry didn't need to know that.

"I don't want to be scared of feeling good anymore," you whispered. "I don't want to feel guilty for chasing something that feels right. Please tell me you feel the same."

"I do," Harry murmured. His forehead rested against yours as his hands found the perfect place on your waist, finding the sliver of skin revealed between your halter top and your jeans, and the look in his eyes was something so comforting, a safe assurance you hadn't felt in a long time.

Harry made you feel safe. He made you smile and knew things about you no one else did, not even your brothers, and he didn't seem put off by it. He understood your creative process, gave you space when you needed it, and was there for you when needed someone but didn't know how to ask.

You were still perhaps too scared to even think about the word love, but looking up at Harry then, you thought there might be a day where you felt brave enough to tell him how you really felt.

*.*

The club was packed tonight, bodies surrounding you on all sides. As someone bumped into you from behind, you gripped Mitch's arm on instinct, determined not to fall over or get swept up in the sea of people waiting for the band to start their set.

"Remind me why we're here again?" you asked, shouting over the crowd and thumping bass.

For a moment, you worried Mitch hadn't heard you, but then he shouted back, leaning in close so you could hear him. "Because they asked us to be here. We heard their demos, and you said they had potential. And—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. I just didn't think there'd be this many people."

"Kind of a good thing though, isn't it?" a voice said from behind you.

Turning around, you couldn't help the wide grin that took over your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mitch give you a pointed look, but you ignored it, throwing your arms around Harry. "You found us!"

"Course. I could spot my two best friends from a mile away."

Being regarded as Harry's friend made your stomach tighten despite knowing he didn't mean it that way, especially since you were around so many people. And yet, it had you overthinking.

Don't be stupid, you thought, blinking those thoughts away. Squeezing Harry's hand once, you let go. "Did you get into the venue okay?"

You, Harry, and Mitch talked to—talked at, more like—each other before the show, huddled together and trying not to draw attention to yourselves. Because of the packed venue, you and Harry were able to stand relatively close to one another, your hands brushing occasionally. With Harry so close to you like this and unable to kiss his cheek at the very least, and you could tell he was having the same struggle. He was pressed up against your back, at one point, then his arm was draped over your shoulders, and when the lights finally dimmed as the set began, he was as close as he could be, his arm wrapped around your waist as you watched the band perform.

The band played music that was loud, full of heavy base lines and guitar riffs and drum solos that had the crowd jumping and jostling around. Harry was a steady force at your back until you eventually joined in with the audience, dancing along to the music beside Mitch.

In the few weeks you and Mitch worked on writing Cam's album together, you'd ended up spending more time outside of the studio as well. It was almost always music related, the two of you going out to see live performances in some form or another—local bands, shows at the Troubador and the Whiskey, performers just starting out in dive bars. It was something you typically did on your own, a good way to discover new artists and experience different sounds, and Mitch was more than happy to join you, showing you a couple of his favorite haunts, ones that he played in from time to time.

It was nice to get out of your apartment, to hang out with someone who appreciated discovering new music as much as you did. Mitch had helped you expand your horizons and had even taught you a thing or two about playing drums after you were particularly enthralled by a grunge band. It had become part of your routine as much as writing in the studio had—going out once or twice a week to find new talent and sometimes meeting up with the artist or band afterward to see if they were interested in collaborating. That wasn't always the goal, but there were moments when you couldn't help yourself.

"You were right. They do have potential," Mitch said. Both of you were buzzing after the performance, talking animatedly about the band and their set.

"I know! And I really liked their sound. There was something so nostalgic about it, but not in a gimmicky way, you know?"

Harry walked a couple paces behind you and Mitch as you ambled down the sidewalk toward where you'd parked. He'd been quiet coming out of the show, but you didn't think anything of it.

You kept talking to Mitch, promising to stop by the studio for another drum lesson when you had the chance, or when he had the chance, more like. Now that Harry's album was less an idea and more a fully realized project with a release date, Harry and Co. had been pretty busy lately. And once the album finally came out...well, you'd cross that bridge eventually.

When Mitch was gone, headed home in his car, you walked a little further to your side-by-side with Harry. You leaned in close, not really caring if anyone saw. Even through the layers of his heavy coat, you could feel the warmth that he emanated naturally. You loved being tucked into his side or curled around him, or just being as close to him as possible, an alarming amount. The word "love" fluttered through your mind every now and again, but you swatted it away every time. It was much too soon, and while you'd made many strides, there were still parts of you that remained afraid.

Afraid of what would happen if you got too attached and things ended, afraid of the distance rapidly approaching once Harry's album came out, afraid of your inner saboteur. It was all there, lingering, waiting to strike at any moment.

"Good show, right?" you said to Harry, eager to shake off the dark turn your thoughts had taken. "Mitch and I have been wanting to see them for ages."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes remaining on the street ahead. Then, "I...I didn't realize you spent so much time with him while I was gone."

"I honestly didn't expect to, but he was still working in the studio. We made quite the team."

Because you were so close, you felt Harry's whole body stiffen. A split second too late, you realized your poor choice of words.

"I—I didn't mean—"

"It's okay, Y/n," Harry said, and he didn't sound mad at all. Maybe just a little hurt, but you had a feeling he was trying his best not to make you feel bad. "I can't be upset that you kept working when I left. That's silly of me."

"It's not," you assured. "I—You're kind of the reason I pushed myself to work with him, and others," you admitted.

"Really?"

Nodding, you said, "I've always worked on my own. Always. But then we started writing together and things just clicked, and when you left, I—I didn't want to deny myself the opportunity to make great music. I mean, you and your team were doing incredible stuff even before I came along. I guess I just wanted to be a part of something great in that way too. Mitch helped introduce me to a new artist and we collaborated on a project of our own. I didn't...I didn't want to go back to being alone again.

"But it isn't the same," you said, stopping Harry in his tracks. Looking up at him, you smiled, for no other reason than he was there and he was yours. "We...We work differently together. You have to know that."

Harry's responding grin was small. "It is quite magical, isn't it?"

Reaching up on your toes, you kissed him, your hand cupping his cheek gently. The kiss was slow, gentle, a reassurance for the both of you. When you leaned back, yours and Harry's cheeks were flushed as you grinned brightly at each other.

As you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car, you said, "I can't believe you'd be jealous of Mitch."

Harry ducked his head bashfully. "Oh hush. I was not."

"He's your best friend, H," you giggled. "Not to mention very, very taken."

"I believe I mentioned it was silly, didn't I?"

Taking his hand, you kissed the top of it. "You did."

Harry peeled out of his parking space, promising to make it up to you as he handed his phone over to choose the playlist for the ride home.

When you unlocked his phone, the home screen wasn't what popped up. Instead, the messages app was open, a string of messages that hadn't been replied to yet, going back a few weeks.

Can we talk?

I miss you. I miss us.

The silent treatment is childish, H.

Please call me.

Your hands suddenly felt cold and clammy, and Harry's phone nearly slipped out of them and onto the floor.

"Everything okay?"

Harry's voice dragged you out of whatever headspace you'd been launched into. Looking up, you mustered a smile, hoping the car's darkness would mask how flimsy it truly was.

"Yeah. Fine," you said, your voice not sounding like your own.

Quickly exiting out of the app, you pulled up his music, choosing a playlist at random before setting his phone down in the cup holder.

You felt like you were on one of those theme park rides, the ones that reach the heights of tall buildings just to fall straight down. You felt weightless, but not in a good way. It was as if you were falling and there was nowhere safe to land. That feeling in your stomach only grew until you were sure you were going to be sick.

Harry continued on none the wiser, chatting about this and that. You weren't exactly sure what he said, his voice was suddenly white noise. But you must've given him coherent responses because he didn't question your behavior. The only time he did was when you didn't invite him up to your apartment.

"I'm just really tired," you managed to say. "One too many margaritas, I guess."

Not putting up too much of a fight, Harry grinned and gave you a kiss. Despite the dread you felt, it still filled you with butterflies. You cared for him so much you didn't know what to do with yourself sometimes. And now there was...this.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said, a sweet smile on his face.

He acted as if nothing was wrong, and it was convincing too. Almost to the point that you wanted to believe it too. Those messages were days old, save the most recent one, and Harry hadn't replied to any of them. That had to mean something.

Right?

*.*

After mentioning what you found to Sylvia, she demanded that what you needed was retail therapy. Shopping wasn't your favorite pastime, but you desperately needed a friend.

You met with her at an outdoor shopping mall, bundled up in your softest sweatshirt and puffy coat for comfort more than because of the weather. You hadn't wanted to go out at all today, or the last couple days since you saw Harry's messages. There had been an attempt to have Sylvia just come over so you could day drink together, but she wasn't having it.

So now you were wading through store after store, internally freaking out about where your relationship was headed. It was just getting off the ground, and now it was crumbling before your eyes. Harry was none the wiser, of course, but that was only because he was busy this week and you pretended to be busy because you weren't sure if you could keep it together in front of him. You needed a third-party perspective, a voice of reason before you sat down and talked to him about all this.

"You wanna tell me what happened?" Sylvia asked gently.

One thing you liked about Sylvia was that she was bold and brash and didn't try to mince her words, but you appreciated her tone now. Friend of Harry's first or not, she was here for you, and seeing as there weren't many people you could turn to, you needed her now more than ever. You could talk to your brothers, but you didn't want them to come out and hurt him. You would go to them if there was something serious going on.

"I...I thought we were finally on the same page," you said, and then it all came spilling out of you. You replayed that night in Harry's car as you combed through a rack of dresses. Sylvia was quiet through all of it, not saying anything until you were finished. "I don't know what to do. Is he—I never asked because it wasn't really my business, but he was clearly torn up over their break up. Do you think it's possible that he's not over her?"

Because that was what kept you up at night. Before he left, Harry hadn't been ready for a relationship. You knew there wasn't an exact timeline for healing a broken heart, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and now all you could think about was him leaving you for his ex. The thought terrified you. It made you want to run before you learned the truth, spare yourself the trouble of looking like an idiot.

But you called Sylvia instead, knowing running was not the best option, even if it was the most familiar.

"Oh, babe," she sighed. "I'm not going to lie, Harry was in love with her. They were...there's no other way to put it. They loved each other."

The whimper that escaped your lips was an accident, and when Sylvia heard it, she pulled you in for a hug. "He was in love with her," she repeated as she ran a soothing hand up and down your back. "I truly believe he's moved on Y/n. Harry wouldn't do that to you."

"But what about her?" you said. "She wants him back, and he—he didn't tell me that she's been reaching out, and I just can't help but feel like their history will win out."

"I don't think you realize how happy you make him," Sylvia said. "Yes, Harry loved her, but they broke up for a reason. I don't see him giving things a second go, especially now that he's with you. He's happy, Y/n. He's happy because you make him happy. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this. You just have to sit down and hear him out."

"You really think so?"

"He lights up at the mere mention of your name. You—You're like the sun to him," Sylvia promised. "So don't run from this, okay? Talk to him. Hear him out. Make him sweat a little for keeping this from you, but you owe it to yourself to hear his side of things."

You nodded, feeling a little reassured by what she'd said. You wouldn't feel a hundred percent until you talked things out with Harry, but this is a good start. At the very least, it kept you from wanting to run and hide from all this.

Laughing a little, you wiped a stray tear from your eye. "You know, when you said you were Harry's life coach, I didn't imagine you'd end up being mine too."

"It's what I'm good for," she said. "Now, let's see about doing a little shopping, hm? Ooh! And maybe we get our nails done."

Looping her arm through yours, she dragged you into the next aisle, feeling lighter with every step you took.

*.*

"Where is he? I'll kill him!"

This was the third time you'd heard that in the last couple of hours.

"Stand down, Hayden," you said from beneath your mountain of blankets. "He's not here."

Your brother's eyes widened as he looked in your direction, as if he didn't expect the pile of blankets to speak. He stalked over to where Andrew and Evan were standing in front of you, taking on a perplexed disposition. None of your brothers had ever really seen you this way. All the pranks, all the times they royally pissed you off when you were younger, you never really let it get to you. You could tell that although they wanted to be here for you, they weren't entirely sure how.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Just let me know where he is, Y/n."

They were doing their best to help, and you knew you owed them answers. You did call them after all. Well, that wasn't entirely true. You called Evan, who proceeded to call Andrew because your younger brother was closest in proximity to you. And Andrew called Hayden because of course he did. It was sweet that they all dropped everything to come see you, but now you felt put on the spot.

And you knew Hayden would make good on his word, and your other two brothers would have no trouble helping him, and that wasn't exactly what you wanted.

"I ended things with Harry," you said quietly.

"You said as much in your text, Y/n," Evan said. "But what happened? It seemed like you guys were really happy."

The thought of last night's events replayed in your mind, bringing a fresh wave of tears to the surface. Taking a shuddering breath, you said, "I thought we were too."

It all started last night at this party Harry invited you too. Something about fundraising and live music and dancing, and he said it was the perfect opportunity to get dressed up and go out and not worry about being photographed. You agreed, wanting to put the text messages from his ex that had yet to be discussed far from your mind. You knew you should've said something, but you wanted to give Harry the opportunity to come clean himself. The fact that he hadn't kept you up at night, but you promised yourself—and Sylvia—that you would bring it up after the party.

"Just one more night of normalcy before we have this conversation," you assured her. It was all you wanted. Just one night where this cloud wasn't hanging over your head.

So you went. Harry picked you up in a sports car that usually sat in his garage, practically mauling you when he saw you in your dress. It was simple, but you felt great in it—a short black number with white ruffles at the top and bottom. With your hair blown out and curled to perfection, little pearl droplets hanging from your ears, you felt like a dream, and every time Harry's gaze fell on you to track your figure up and down, your entire body was filled with butterflies.

And the night carried on perfectly. You and Harry sipped on champagne and kept to yourselves most of the night. You didn't really know anyone, and he was perfectly happy to keep you all to himself, kissing your cheeks and neck whenever he could, his hand never leaving your waist for a moment. It was exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything that had been swirling around in your head the last few days. When Harry was dancing and spinning you around in and out of his arms in a corner of the event space, it felt like you were the only two people to exist. There was no way he had any lingering feelings for his ex when he was smiling so brightly and laughing as you spun him out and back into your arms.

And then...it all just fell apart.

"Harry?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, Harry dropped your hand, coming to an abrupt halt beside you. You looked up, confused by the tension that suddenly lined his shoulders, but when you looked at the women who'd come up to your little corner, you just knew.

"H—Hi." Harry sounded breathless, his eyes never leaving hers once. All you could do was watch it all unfold in slow motion, all you could feel was the loss of his touch now that his hand was no longer in yours.

You cleared your throat when Harry didn't say anything. It was as if you had to pull him from whatever trance he'd fallen into at the mere sight of her. Dread filled your belly as he seemed to remember where he was, as he remembered you were there, blinking as he embraced his ex and introduced her to you.

"This is my friend Y/n."

His words felt like a sucker punch, all the air stolen from your lungs. You knew you and Harry hadn't put a label on your relationship, but to hear him refer to you as his friend right in front of his ex was devastating.

Your heart was glass, I dropped it.

Was this what it felt like? You never imagined you would be in this position, you never thought you would love someone enough to feel like you were coming undone at the seams at this kind of rejection. But perhaps that was just the universe coming to collect after thoroughly breaking someone else's heart yourself.

"I—I need some air," you heard yourself saying, not even looking to see if Harry noticed you leave or if he was too caught up in seeing his ex.

You didn't just get air, you Ubered home, unable to handle everything rushing through you. That was when you texted Evan, who merely responded with, I'm on my way, and twenty-four hours later, he was there, along with Hayden and Andrew.

You explained to your brothers what happened briefly, doing your best to not go into detail so you wouldn't start crying uncontrollably, though you'd be surprised if you had any tears left. You mostly just felt defeated, almost as if deep down you knew the happiness wasn't meant to last.

"He's an idiot, Y/n," Andrew said, resting a hand on Buddy's head to scratch him behind the ears. Your dog had been resting by your side since you came back last night, somehow sensing your despair. "Don't let him steal your happiness."

You nodded, but only because you had nothing else to say. You knew your brother meant well, but you just didn't believe him. This was par for the course in your eyes. Of course, when you fell for someone, they chose someone else. Maybe you were destined to be on your own, maybe love was overrated.

"Do you need anything?" Evan asked you, Hayden standing next to you. You could tell that they didn't really know what to do in this situation but that they wanted to be there for you. It was sweet, but there really wasn't anything to do.

"I'm okay," you said, convincing no one. "I think I might just take a nap."

"We can take Buddy for a walk. Maybe grab some food while we're out," Evan said. "Andrew, why don't you stay here and make sure she doesn't text him."

You rolled your eyes. "I literally just said I was going to sleep—"

"On it," Andrew said, hopping up to take your phone from where it was resting on your kitchen counter and slipping it into his pocket.

It was utterly ridiculous, but you were sure that was what your brothers were going for. The four of you weren't the touchy-feely type, you never had been. But one thing your brothers could count on was their ability to make you smile, make you laugh. And that was maybe exactly what you needed.

Making good on your word, you retired to your room, but you didn't sleep a wink despite how exhausted you were. Instead, you stayed up listening to records, shared favorites of yours and Harry's, the ones you bonded over together. It was hard to imagine that after such deep connections, the number of stories shared and late nights talking over bottles of red wine. Harry meant so much to you, and it killed you to think you didn't mean as much to him.

At some point, you must've dozed off—your eyes fluttering shut to the sound of Joni Mitchell—because suddenly you were jolting awake with a start. Muffled shouts could be heard through your closed door, which could only mean one thing.

Taking a couple minutes to wake up a little more and bolster yourself for unwanted confrontation, you finally stepped out of your room. The voices grew louder as you walked down the hall—Andrew kept telling Harry to leave while Harry claimed he just wanted to talk to you. You weren't sure if you were ready for this conversation yet, but it was here whether you liked it or not, and it would probably be for the best before Evan and Hayden came back or the argument happening at your front door drew unwanted attention.

"You can let him in."

Your voice was quiet, but not unsteady, which came as a surprise to you. It surprised your brother and the person who would've been your boyfriend too, their argument ceasing immediately as they looked over at you.

"Y/n," Harry breathed.

For better or for worse, he looked about as awful as you felt. There were bags under his eyes, and he was in the clothes he wore to the party last night. His tan trousers were rumpled, belt missing; his satin shirt was heavily wrinkled, the buttons mismatched in the wrong holes. His hair was a mess too, as if he'd been tossing and turning all night.

You didn't like seeing him like this, hated it, in fact. This wasn't supposed to be yours and Harry's story. You thought both of you had experienced the heartbreak and had found each other on the other side of it. Now you felt like you were right back where you started, and you hated it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Andrew said, glancing warily between you and Harry. "Hayden and Evan will be back soon—"

"It's fine, Andrew. I promise," you told him, stepping closer to the front door cautiously, worrying that getting too close would ensnare you in Harry's magnetic pull. One whiff of his cologne might send you right into his arms, where your heart still thought it was safe. "Keep them occupied for me?"

It was clear that Andrew didn't agree with you on this decision. He stood there by the door for a long while, trying to assess your mental state. But he finally relented, taking a few steps toward you to hug you tightly. "Don't be afraid to give him hell," he murmured in your ear. Then, after passing back your phone, he left, but not before glaring murderously in Harry's direction.

When you and Harry were finally alone, your apartment was silent for the first time in hours. Almost too silent. Harry just stared at you with this broken look in his eyes, and you...you couldn't dredge up the energy to start this conversation. It was clear Harry didn't either. You watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but you had no desire to help him out.

"Can we sit?" he finally asked, his voice sounding tired and raw.

Unable to handle the look in his those devastated green eyes, you looked down at where your sweatshirt engulfed your hands. "I'd prefer it if we didn't."

Sitting meant forced proximity, and you were already pushing yourself to have this conversation. This distance between you and Harry would be where you drew the line.

"Oh," Harry said, sounding surprised. "Okay. I—I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/n."

"For what exactly?" you asked, not expecting the bitterness in your tone.

"For making it seem like we were just friends in front of her, for freezing last night. I—She'd been texting me the last few days and I've ignored her, but I didn't expect to see her."

"I know about the texts," you found yourself saying.

It was clear Harry hadn't expected that. A look of confusion passed over his face as he asked, "Wh—Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" you said, unable to hide the hurt, the betrayal.

"It was nothing, and I didn't want to bring any attention to it. I thought if I just ignored her enough, she would stop, and she did eventually stop, but then I saw her last night, and I didn't want to make her feel worse by showing her I'd moved on—"

"But you haven't," you said. "You're...protecting her. Sparing her feelings while fucking me over. I—I could've gotten over the texts. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt because you hadn't responded to her. But watching you call me your friend was such a slap in the face."

"I'm sorry, I fucked up. I know I did," Harry said, tears pooling in his eyes.

You could tell he meant it. You knew he realized what he'd done was shitty, but could you move on from it?

"I believe that you're sorry," you said. At that, something like hope flickered in his face, but you snuffed it out just as quickly as it came. "But I also think you still have unresolved feelings for her. And I—I don't want to be second to you. Not in that way."

"So that's it?"

You knew Harry like the back of your hand. You knew what the little quiver of his lip meant, understood the tight clench of his fists around the hem of his shirt. You could read every line of emotion on his face, and you wondered if he could pick you apart the same way.

"You know, all this time we've bonded over our respective heartbreak as if our pain was the same," you said, more to yourself than to him. "But what I'm realizing now, what I started to realize last night, was that mine stemmed from feelings of inadequacy, of never being enough for someone. I broke up with someone because I wasn't in love with them, and that devastated me. But you...no matter how the relationship fell apart or who ended it, you loved her, and she loved you. That feeling doesn't just wash away with the evening tide."

"Y/n—"

"And that's...that's okay, you know?" you continued. "You loved her. Love her. That's not a bad thing. But—But I'm in love with you too, and I can't—I'm not going to compete with someone who already has your heart. I won't."

Tears kissed your cheeks as you blinked. Your hands shook, but your voice was clear. Harry could deny it all he wanted, but you saw the truth laid bare before you. You weren't the only person occupying space in his heart, and after everything you'd been through, you didn't want to settle for anything less than what you deserved.

"That's not true, Y/n," Harry implored. He looked a little frantic now that he knew your mind was practically made up. "I fucked up, I know that. I saw her, and I froze. It was just—"

An instinct, a gut reaction, that was what he didn't want to say. "I don't want someone's initial reaction to be to let go of my hand," you said softly, wiping away a tear with a sleeve-covered hand. "I want—"

Your mom's ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet. That song you'd written all those months ago, the one that held your deepest regrets and insecurities, all the little things you'd run from. You didn't want to run from it anymore. You thought you found someone to run toward, but you were wrong.

"I don't want what we have to be over, Y/n," Harry pleaded.

I don't believe you, you thought, and you couldn't be with him if you didn't trust his sincerity. "I think you need more time," you said instead of voicing what you felt.

"There's no convincing how much I feel for you, is there?" he said, sounding resigned to the fate that had come to pass.

You shook your head, your heart begging you to hold onto him and not let go, to drag him to bed and sleep until you both forgot. But you didn't do any of those things. "No. Not right now."

Harry finally bridged the gap between you and him. He kept a sliver of distance, the only contact he made being gentle fingers tilting your chin so you'd meet his eye. There was so much emotion swirling there, and you longed to kiss away all the anguish and pain until only love was left, but that wasn't in the cards. Not today, or in the days that would follow.

"I promised you that I wouldn't leave again," Harry said, his gaze unrelenting. Your brow furrowed, not recalling when he made that promise, but he continued before you could ask. "Not in the ways that count anyway, but I intend to keep that promise, Y/n. If you want space, I'll give it to you, but don't think for one second that I won't spend every single moment we're apart wishing we were together. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's what it takes."

It was a surprise your body didn't turn to jello on the spot, that Harry couldn't hear the steady thump of your heart as it beat wildly in your chest. He said all the right things, every perfect word, but right now, that was all they were. And you didn't have it in you to believe him.

"I'm sorry that I did this to us, to you," he said. "I'll never not be sorry. "

Harry stood there, his fingers gingerly holding your chin, for a few moments longer. It was as if he was imploring you to read the message in his eyes, to understand everything he wasn't saying, but you just didn't have the energy.

When he finally left, one last promise that wasn't giving up on you and him yet on his lips before the door clicked shut, all the warmth in your body went with him. You briefly thought of all the times you clung to him to warm up, slipping his hands beneath his shirts and sweaters and nuzzling your face in his neck.

That last touch of Harry's fingers to your chin wasn't enough, not nearly enough, and now he was gone. The person you fell in love with, who knew you better than anyone else in the world, walked out the door, head held high as if this wouldn't be the last time you'd be standing so close.

You weren't convinced. Not when all your mind wanted to replay was his hand dropping yours, his dismissal of your relationship, and his disregard for your feelings to protect those of his ex.

*.*

You didn't see Harry in the weeks that followed, but you weren't sure if that had more to do with him working on his album. Sylvia kept you semi-updated, even though you insisted you were fine with not knowing what he was up to. It was a lie, of course, and she saw right through it, letting you know when Harry was gone for music video shoots, recording and producing music, album cover shoots, and meetings with his label.

Part of you was grateful he wasn't around because it made keeping your distance easier. After everything that happened, you convinced yourself Harry didn't know what he wanted, even if he claimed he was. The proof had been right in front of you, though, clear as day. There were unresolved feelings lingering in the corners of Harry's heart and mind, and he needed to deal with them or get back together with his ex, but you wanted no part of it.

That wasn't to say Harry wasn't on your mind. He was there constantly, taking up space and making you lose focus while writing or walking your dog. You'd never been in love before, and now that everything had imploded, you didn't know how to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

Blinking, you looked up to where Mitch stared at you, an acoustic guitar in his lap. You weren't sure why you agreed to meet with him for a writing session. You hadn't written much since everything fell apart, save the occasional depressing poem, but when Mitch reached out, you figured it was as good a time as any to get back to work and start writing again.

In theory, it was a good idea, but your heart just wasn't in it. It was thousands of miles away shooting a music video.

"Sorry, I thought this would be a good idea, but my head is just all over the place," you said, closing your notebook that only had a few disconnected lines written down.

"I'm sorry about everything," Mitch said. "I know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but he really does care about you. Like a lot."

"I know," you said dejectedly. "But he...he still loves her, I think. Or cares for her more than he lets on. Maybe even more than he realizes."

That night, you realized you had a losing hand. You didn't want to run like you'd done with Gavin, but you didn't want to fight either. You just felt...defeated, as if the fickle promise of love had bested you again.

"I can promise you he doesn't, but I know that's between you and him," Mitch said. Nodding to the journal in your lap, he asked, "Can I see?"

Shrugging, you handed it over. At this point, Mitch had learned a lot about you by being your writing partner, so you didn't mind him flipping through it. And honestly, there wasn't much to show anyway. A couple of measly lines did not a song make.

Mitch was quiet as he looked over the few things you'd written down, his expression gloriously passive as always. Since you started writing together, you'd struggled to read his expressions, not knowing what he thought until he voiced his opinion.

"Well, shit, kid," Mitch murmured on an exhale.

"What?"

Mitch looked up, one brow raised. Then, he began to read lines from your journal. "You've got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes...My hand's a risk I fold...Test of my patience, there's things that we'll never—"

"Hey wait a minute, that's not from today," you said, reaching for your journal. Mitch managed to land on one of your poems from a few days ago. That definitely wasn't meant to be part of today's writing session. "Give that back."

"This is good, Y/n. There's a song in here," Mitch insisted.

"Oh please. That's a terribly depressing poem fueled by a bottle of wine."

He pinned you with a stare, but you ignored it, and he eventually let it go. You didn't stay in the studio much longer after that, realizing that not much was going to come out of this session. And Mitch had to leave too, having to catch a redeye to London. "We're finishing up the album there," he explained.

It dawned on you then that you would be alone again. After becoming so used to having a partner of some kind while writing, too. It shouldn't have affected you so much, but it did. Somehow you'd grown to appreciate company while you were writing, and now your two favorite writing partners were leaving. They were the only two you'd ever had, but as history had shown, you weren't a huge fan of change.

You'd grown comfortable, but now the ground was shaking and crumbling beneath you. Though perhaps that should've been the familiar feeling.

"Can I keep the song?" Mitch asked on your way out of the studio. "I have an idea."

This time, you could read what was on your friend's face. And you could sense it, somehow. He wanted to show it to Harry. For the album, or because Mitch felt Harry needed to read the words. At this point, you were emotionally drained, and you weren't going to be there when Harry read your little poem, anyway. What did it matter?

"That's fine," you said, tearing the page out of your journal. "Don't be a stranger, okay? We can still collaborate over the phone or voice notes or whatever."

You thought that was where you and Mitch would leave things, but then he asked, "Do you think you'll ever write with him again?"

Harry was so much more than the person you were in love with. He was your friend, your first ever writing partner, someone you'd confided in. But he was also the person who made you feel betrayal and heartache. You didn't know how to reconcile those two people.

"I don't know," you said honestly. "I hope so."

*.*

There wasn't a single moment where Harry didn't think of Y/n while they were apart. He'd done what she'd asked of him, gave them the space to heal and settle. Harry understood where she was coming from, and he knew that he'd hurt her more than he ever imagined he would.

Everything fell apart so completely, too quickly for him to even pick up the pieces.

He knew he should've told her about the texts the minute he received them, and he couldn't really pinpoint why he didn't. It was in no way to hurt Y/n, or to protect his ex; honestly, he should've just deleted them as they came, but he didn't, and things only went downhill from there.

Harry didn't want space, he knew what he wanted, who he wanted. But he also knew that what he'd done, how he behaved, gave Y/n every right to push him away and not trust him. All he knew was that he'd never regretted anything more than seeing the devastated look on her face when they ran into his ex.

He couldn't take back what he'd done, all he could do was try to make things right the second Y/n gave him the opportunity. Thankfully, recording and producing his second album kept him busy enough to give her the space she'd asked for. Had he liked being so far away from her, both physically and emotionally? No. Hell no, but he just put everything he was feeling into his music, let it fuel him as he and his team found the sound he was going for with this project.

It wasn't until weeks after they'd ended things that he heard from Y/n. Really, Mitch had passed a folded up piece of paper with song lyrics on it and said it was Y/n's, but Harry was so desperate to get something from her that he'd counted it. "I have an idea for it. I just need you to finish it," Mitch had said.

"Finish it?" Harry asked as he unfolded the paper.

To him it looked like a poem, but Mitch seemed to be convinced it was a song. He read over it briefly, then again, and again and again until he was standing in front of his friend for an awkward amount of time.

"She's speaking to you in this," Mitch explained. "It could be a kind of conversation."

The idea had perplexed him, and at first, Harry had said no. It wasn't until the next evening when he was alone in his flat that he considered the folded piece of paper. He thought about all the songs he'd written with Y/n, the thoughts and feelings they'd shared with each and every lyric and melody. This wasn't the same, not even close. He just wanted things to go back to normal; he wanted to relive the moments where Y/n would sit with her guitar, her journal and his in his lap as they compared notes and ideas.

But this would have to do for now.

He didn't try to get in Y/n's head, to try to understand what she might've been feeling at the time she wrote the poem, though he had a pretty good idea. Harry merely did what Mitch suggested and responded to the lines already written down, adding them in where he saw fit.

"Put a price on...emotion, I'm looking for...something to buy," he murmured, quickly scribbling the words down before he forgot them. "I don't want to fight you, and I don't want to sleep in the dirt."

Writing this song gave Harry the opportunity to finally let go. Through it he was able to admit that he had been clinging to a crisp trepidation, a fear of giving all of himself over to Y/n with abandon. For a number of reasons—that things with Y/n would end up in flames like all his other relationships (check), that he didn't even know what love looked like anymore after so many failed attempts at finding it, that he wasn't good enough to be someone Y/n deserved, , that he was going to lose her forever if he didn't pull himself together enough for her.

By the time Harry was done, he felt dejected. The finished song was sad, too sad. It was about heartache and fear, it sounded finite. And that wasn't what he wanted his story with Y/n to be.

We'll be fine, he wrote before quickly crossing it our. Fine. Fine. Finefinefinefinefine—

"We'll be a fine line," Harry finally murmured.

He spent the rest of the night figuring out arrangements and melodies, all of it coming together in his head almost faster than he could write it all down. The album was pretty much in the final stretch. At this point, he and his team were finishing up recordings and working on the promotional aspects of the release, but he knew it down to every atom of his being that this song had to be on the album. It was the culmination of everything he'd experienced and felt, every emotion he'd embraced and shied away from. All of it crashed into each other in a blaze of horns and strings.

And maybe when he finally finished working through the main melody on his guitar, something soft and melancholic, yet soothing and hopeful, he should've gone right to sleep. He honestly should've been exhausted after the emotional whirlwind he'd been wrapped up in. Yet he somehow had his phone in his hands, his thumb hovering over a contact before he eventually hit the call button.

"Harry? What—Isn't it like four in the morning over there?"

Harry couldn't stop his breath from hitching when he heard Y/n's voice. He'd missed her so much it physically hurt sometimes. Part of him thought she wouldn't answer his call, but when she did, his entire body sagged with relief.

"I miss you," he said, not caring how pathetic he sounded. "I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you, and you probably were just being nice by suggesting the whole space thing when you really want nothing to do with me ever again—"

"Harry," Y/n said, her voice gently but firm. "Slow down, love."

Harry could've cried at the softness in her tone let alone the term of endearment. All he'd wanted for the last few weeks was to just hear her voice, her his name on her lips in a way that didn't sound hurt or disappointed.

"You were right," he told her. "I—I was holding back from you, and that wasn't fair to either of us, but especially to you. Y/n, I—I'm so sorry."

"I know you are," she whispered. "I think...I think I just wanted you to want me as much as I did."

"I do," Harry promised. "I know I haven't given you much to believe me, but Y/n the way I feel about you is so different than I've ever felt about anyone, and I think part of me was scared of that too after such a tremendous breakup."

For a moment, Y/n was silent over the phone, her breaths filling up his ear and making him long for the moments they spent huddled up in bed together.

"I know...I know we've been here before, but do you think we could try things again?" he asked. He almost didn't want to know, believing that perhaps ignorance really was bliss. But Y/n had put herself out there so many times, had taken so many risks despite everything she'd experienced. He could be brave too.

"What if—What if we started over?" she said.

"Start over?"

"I think we need a clean slate. If you're really and truly over your ex—"

"I am. I swear, Y/n," Harry said, not wanting hope to spark to life in him just yet.

"Then we need to put all of this mess behind us and start fresh."

"I—I'd like that." He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. When he called Y/n, he worried he'd come off a little crazy due to lack of sleep, but now he worried he might've fallen asleep in a songwriting craze and was now dreaming.

"I, um, I know you offered a few months ago, but if you were still looking for someone to join your band...maybe I could fill that spot?"

"You want to work for me?"

"I wasn't going to put it like that, but I guess technically yes," Y/n said. "I feel like you would pay a fair wage."

Harry chuckled, a satisfied sort of exhaustion taking over him now that he felt like his life was getting back on track. "I'll give you whatever you want if it means you'll join."

He just wanted her close, and if this was what a clean slate looked like to her, then he would oblige. Having her close, playing music together, being surrounded by their friends, it would be exactly what they needed to find their way back to each other.

"You should probably go to bed," Y/n said, breaking the content silence that had settled over them.

"Yeah, probably," Harry agreed, running a tired hand over his face. "So what have you been listening to recently?"

For a moment, he thought she would insist he get some rest. He supposed he'd be okay with it, finding peace in the fact things were finally looking up for them. But then she answered, and Harry was sure he'd never be able to wipe the smile from his face as he listened to his girl.

*.*

Months later

"Are you in love with Harry?"

The question wasn't directed at you, but you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

Sarah, who was much more quick on the draw than you would've been, smiled and said, "We all are, yeah."

You forced a soft laugh, unsure of where to direct your gaze. This whole interview had been one huge vat of chaos—and blatant misogyny—from the start, but Harry had conducted himself well so far, not balking or raising his voice once at the invasive and downright rude questions that were thrown at him. Perhaps you should've expected a question like this today, but you still struggled to keep your face neutral.

"So there's nothing going on romantically with Harry and the ladies?"

You suddenly found the keyboard in front of you incredibly interesting. What you really needed in this moment was a reassuring glance from Harry, but that would defeat the purpose of keeping your budding relationship a secret.

Attention from the public was still something you were getting used to. You'd gotten into songwriting because it was out of the public eye, but being with Harry would eventually lead you right into it. Not that you minded, you'd do whatever it took to be with him. But interviews like this one still left you feeling flustered.

"And who's back there on keys?"

Even though they were all your friends, you still felt your face flush as red as the leather skirt you wore for the interview.

"Y/n."

"That's Y/n."

"How are you doing back there, Y/n?"

"Fine," you managed to say, your voice barely above a squeak.

Risking a glance at Harry, you met his gaze. He gave you an encouraging smile, and it bolstered your confidence the slightest bit. Just enough to get you through this brief conversation.

"Just fine? Does Harry make you nervous?"

"Maybe Y/n's the one who's in love with him."

"Or maybe she just wants to fuck him!"

An awkward silence fell over the room after the interviewers' comments and questions. You didn't even know what to say, or how you were expected to respond. Feeling the sympathetic stares from the rest of the band, you took a deep breath and tried not to cry, feeling extremely embarrassed.

Harry's jaw ticked, and you were pretty sure you were the only one who noticed. It was the first time he'd reacted to any of the questions asked today. And you could see it in his face that he was beyond pissed off.

This wasn't what you expected, and clearly Harry hadn't expected it either. But you also didn't want him to storm off and make a big scene. You just wanted to get through today and go home and rest with Buddy and Sweet Pea while you and Harry watched a movie together in bed. That thought kept you grounded, and you tried your hardest to convey to Harry that you were okay without saying anything.

"I, um, I met Harry in the studio in LA," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Y/n's a songwriter, but she's generously lent her fabulous keyboarding skills to us this year," Harry said.

"A songwriter?" You felt the interviewer's gaze sweep over you, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

Another tick of Harry's jaw.

"Yeah. But I've enjoyed doing this too. Traveling and performing with Sarah's band," you said, a meek attempt at a joke.

"You must be getting laid a lot on the road as a proper rockstar now. You could probably get whoever you wanted. Well, maybe not Harry, but close to anyone. Are you taking advantage of being on the road with Harry? A new man every night?"

You swallowed thickly, the will not to cry hanging on by a thread. "I—I don't think my brothers be cool with—"

"Shut the fuck up, mate."

Shocked silence filled the room. Clearly, the interviewers didn't expect someone as laid back as Harry to speak up that way. A mix of relief and unease washed over you, unsure of how the rest of the interview was going to pan out now. But you couldn't say you didn't feel relieved that he'd spoken up.

"Harry, we're only—"

"You're being fucking disrespectful to the members of my band, and I'm not fucking putting up with it. Either ask me your fucking questions or let me go. My band and I aren't putting up with your bullshit."

Harry hadn't wanted to come here. He knew the reputation of the interviewer, but it had still somehow made it onto the list of interviews and appearances to promote the album. You'd watched as he grew more and more irritated with each question, but he seemed to take them in stride. But the minute they were directed at you, he'd snapped.

A brief break in the interview ensued, producers suggesting that a couple minutes to regroup would do everyone some good. When everyone was ready to record again, a stilted topic change led Harry to introduce and talk about the Peter Gabriel song they were about to play. The rest of the interview teetered between overly professional and awkward. You could tell by the tense line of Harry's shoulders that he wanted to be anywhere else.

At some point while Harry was talking, Sarah looked over at you. "You okay?" she mouthed, and you nodded subtly, giving her a tiny thumbs up from behind your keyboard setup. Everyone in the band knew about you and Harry. It was hard to hide your relationship when he was by your side whenever you weren't rehearsing a song, and like Mitch and Sarah, he was almost always facing you during rehearsals. It was sweet how he was always pulling you aside during lunch breaks and sitting beside you on the piano bench. One time, when Harry had a film crew film a performance of each song on the album, he asked if the recording of "Fine Line" could just be you and him. Both of you sat on stools with your respective guitars as you performed a stripped-back version of the song, your voice supporting Harry's with a soft harmony occasionally. It was a special moment for the two of you, especially because the song meant so much.

After that, there were no questions about what you meant to each other.

At the end of the interview, Harry was quick to leave, hardly sparing anyone a glance as he stalked out. You stayed back to break down your equipment like you normally did, your hands shaking a little as the desire to comfort Harry took over.

"Go, I got this," Mitch said, coming over to help.

"Really?"

Mitch nodded before bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah. We still on for dinner tonight?"

You nodded. "Might have to be at my apartment, though. I don't think he'll be up for going out."

You left soon after that, walking out of the recording room where the interview had taken place. The green room was down the hall, and you entered despite the closed door. "It's me," you said quietly before entering, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Harry was already out of his blue sweater and green trousers, a pair of brown corduroys on as he shrugged into a yellow t-shirt. He looked up briefly, then looked back down again as he slipped a pair of Vans on.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mad, upset, guilty," he said with a shrug.

"Why on earth do you feel guilty, love?"

"That never should've fucking happened," he seethed, but in Harry fashion, it just meant his voice was clipped and low as he tried to get a handle on his anger. "You didn't deserve that. I should've stood up for you."

"I...You did, H." You didn't want to say that it was okay, because obviously the whole situation wasn't, but you knew he wasn't to blame. The topic of him sticking up for you was a touchy one. "You were put in a tough position, yet you still put those assholes in their place. Let's just go home and forget about all this shit, okay?"

Harry nodded, but he still wouldn't meet your eye, which wasn't going to work for you one bit.

"Hey," you said, tilting his chin up with your fingertips. "Don't beat yourself up. Please? For me?"

For the first time since the midpoint of the interview, Harry grinned. He threaded his fingers through yours before giving you a kiss, his lips soft and familiar against yours. You felt some of the tension leave his body until he eventually pulled away and draped an arm over your shoulders, your hands still connected.

"Never fucking coming to this place again," Harry murmured on the way out, keeping you tucked closely to his side.

"Amen to that."

Harry looked down at you, the anger and frustration finally clearing from his eyes. When it came to you, to your feelings, he was very protective. And you were too, in your own way. You leaned on each other, supported each other, and spent time together without ever being sick of one another. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, and even though it might put him in hot water with his management or the interviewer, it meant a lot to you that he stood up for you the way he did. You didn't need him to throw punches or push people up against walls—honestly, that was what your brothers were for—but when it all boiled down, he put you and your feelings first, always and without question.

"I love you," he murmured, his thumb rubbing circles over the top of your hand.

"Even with my crazy brothers?"

"Even with your crazy brothers."

"Hm. Even when Buddy steals your spot on the bed?"

"Even then."

"Even in the mornings when my feet are cold and they brush up against your legs?"

When Harry didn't answer right away, you playfully pinched his side until he laughed and kissed the top of your head. "Babe, I'm gonna love you on your worst day, you know that."

And even though you did, your cheeks became rosy, your whole body tingling with warmth. "Good. Because I love you too. So much."

So much pain had been felt, so much devastation had been endured before you and Harry fell into a perfect rhythm. It wasn't easy, and if you were to look back at the girl who believed she was fucked in the head and incapable and undeserving of love and being loved, you would still think it was all worth it. You would endure it all again if it led you to this moment, if it ended up with Harry cradling your heart of glass in his hands and protecting it as if it was his own.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦

secrets cut wounds into the relationship.

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞